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diff --git a/16018-h/16018-h.htm b/16018-h/16018-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87b03a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/16018-h/16018-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18228 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Black Prophet by William Carleton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine +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 Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine + Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of + William Carleton, Volume Three + +Author: William Carleton + +Illustrator: M. L. Flanery + +Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16018] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK PROPHET *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + THE BLACK PROPHET: + </h1> + <h2> + A TALE OF IRISH FAMINE. + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By William Carleton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="pageBP853 (127K)" src="images/pageBP853.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="titlepage (59K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <h2> + CONTENTS + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — Glendhu, or the Black Glen; + Scene of Domestic Affection. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — The Black Prophet + Prophesies. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — A Family on the Decline—Omens. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — A Dance, and Double + Discovery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — The Black Prophet is + Startled by a Black Prophecy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — A Rustic Miser and His + Establishment </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — A Panorama of Misery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — A Middle Man and + Magistrate—Master and Man. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — Meeting of Strangers—Mysterious + Dialogue. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — The Black Prophet makes a + Disclosure. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — Pity and Remorse. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — Famine, Death, and Sorrow. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — Sarah's Defence of a + Murderer. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> CHAPTEE XIV. — A Middleman Magistrate of + the Old School, and his Clerk. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XV. — A Plot and a Prophecy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XVI. — Mysterious Disappearance + of the Tobacco-box. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVII. — National Calamity—Sarah + in Love and Sorrow. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVIII. — Love Wins the Race from + Profligacy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XIX. — Hanlon Secures the + Tobacco-box.—Strange Scene </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XX. — Tumults—Confessions + of Murder. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> CHAPTEE XXI. — Condy Datton goes to + Prison. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XXII. — Re-appearance of the Box—Friendly + Dialogue </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXIII. — Darby in Danger—Nature + Triumphs. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXIV. — Rivalry. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> CHAPTEE XXV. — Sarah Without Hope. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXVI. — The Pedlar Runs a Close + Risk of the Stocks. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXVII. — Sarah Ill—Mave + Again, Heroic. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXVIII. — Double Treachery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXIX. — A Picture of the Present—Sarah + Breaks her Word. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXX. — Self-sacrifice—Villany + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXXI. — A Double Trial—Retributive + Justice. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXXII. — Conclusion. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + List of Illustrations + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> Page 785— “It's False,” Replied the + Young Fellow </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> Page 807— Tom's Clutches Were Again at + his Throat </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> Page 834— The Prophet's Brow Darkened + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0004"> Page 847— I'll Tell You Nothing About + It </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0005"> Page 853— His Eye, Like That of His + Father, When Enraged </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0006"> Page 913— I'll Have Nothing to Do With + This Robbery </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — Glendhu, or the Black Glen; Scene of Domestic + Affection. + </h2> + <p> + Some twenty and odd years ago there stood a little cabin at the foot of a + round hill, that very much resembled a cupola in shape, and which, from + its position and height, commanded a prospect of singular beauty. This + hill was one of a range that ran from north to southwest; but in + consequence of its standing, as it were, somewhat out of the ranks, its + whole appearance and character as a distinct feature of the country were + invested with considerable interest to a scientific eye, especially to + that of a geologist. An intersection or abrupt glen divided it from those + which constituted the range or group alluded to; through this, as a pass + in the country, and the only one for miles, wound a road into an open + district on the western side, which road, about half a mile after its + entering the glen, was met by a rapid torrent that came down from the + gloomy mountains that rose to the left. The foot of this hill, which on + the southern side was green and fertile to the top, stretched off and was + lost in the rich land that formed the great and magnificent valley it + helped to bound, and to which the chasm we have described was but an + entrance; the one bearing to the other, in size and position, much the + same relation that a small bye-lane in a country town bears to the great + leading street which constitutes its principal feature. + </p> + <p> + Noon had long passed, and the dim sun of a wet autumnal day was sloping + down towards the west through clouds and gloom, when a young girl of about + twenty-one or twenty-two years of age came out of the cabin we have + mentioned, and running up to the top of a little miniature hill or knob + that rose beside it, looked round in every direction, as if anxious to + catch a glimpse of some one whom she expected. It appeared, however, that + she watched in vain; for after having examined the country in every + direction with an eye in which might be read a combined expression of + eagerness, anger and disappointment, she once more returned to the cabin + with a slow and meditating step. This she continued to do from time to + time for about an hour and a half, when at length a female appeared + approaching, whom she at once recognized. + </p> + <p> + The situation of this hovel, for such, in fact, it must be termed, was not + only strikingly desolate, but connected also with wild and supernatural + terrors. From the position of the glen itself, a little within which it + stood, it enjoyed only a very limited portion of the sun's cheering beams. + As the glen was deep and precipitous, so was the morning light excluded + from it by the northeastern hills, as was that of evening by those which + rose between it and the west. Indeed, it would be difficult to find a spot + marked by a character of such utter solitude and gloom. Naturally barren, + it bore not a single shrub on which a bird could sit or a beast browse, + and little, of course, was to be seen in it but the bare gigantic + projections of rock which shot out of its steep sides in wild and uncouth + shapes, or the grey, rugged expanses of which it was principally composed. + Indeed, we feel it difficult to say whether the gloom of winter or the + summer's heat fell upon it with an air of lonelier desolation. It mattered + not what change of season came, the place presented no appearance of man + or his works. Neither bird or beast was seen or heard, except rarely, + within its dreary bosom, the only sounds it knew being the monotonous + murmurs of the mountain torrent, or the wild echoes of the thunder storms + that pealed among the hills about it. Silence and solitude were the + characteristics which predominated in it and it would not be easy to say + whether they were felt more during the gloom of November or the glare of + June. + </p> + <p> + In the mouth of this glen, not far from the cabin we have described, two + murders had been committed about twenty years before the period of our + narrative, within the lapse of a month. The one was that of a carman, and + the other of a man named Sullivan, who also had been robbed, as it was + supposed the carman had been, for the bodies of both had been made way + with and were never found. This was evident—in the one case by the + horse and cart of the carman remaining by the grey stone in question, on + which the traces of blood were long visible; and in the other by the + circumstance of Sullivan's hat and part of his coat having been found near + the cabin in question on the following day, in a field through which his + path home lay, and in which was a pool of blood, where his foot-marks were + deeply imprinted, as if in a struggle for life and death. For this latter + murder a man named Dalton had been taken up, under circumstances of great + suspicion, he having been the last person seen in the man's company. Both + had been drinking together in the market, a quarrel had originated between + them about money matters, blows had been exchanged, and Dalton was heard + to threaten him in very strong language. Nor was this all. He had been + observed following or rather dogging him on his way home, and although the + same road certainly led to the residence of both, yet when his words and + manner were taken into consideration, added to the more positive proof + that the footmarks left on the place of struggle exactly corresponded with + his shoes, there could be little doubt that he was privy to Sullivan's + murder and disappearance, as well probably as to his robbery. At all + events the glen was said to be haunted by Sullivan's spirit, which was in + the habit, according to report, of appearing near the place of murder, + from whence he was seen to enter this chasm—a circumstance which, + when taken in connection with its dark and lonely aspect, was calculated + to impress upon the place the I reputation of being accursed, as the scene + of crime and supernatural appearances. We remember having played in it + when young, and the feeling we experienced was one of awe and terror, to + which might be added, on contemplating the “dread repose” and solitude + around us, an impression that we were removed hundreds of miles from the + busy ongoings and noisy tumults of life, to which, as if seeking + protection, we generally hastened with a strong sense of relief, after + having tremblingly gratified our boyish curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The young girl in question gave the female she had been expecting any + thing but a cordial or dutiful reception. In personal appearance there was + not a point of resemblance between them, although the <i>tout ensemble</i> + of each was singularly striking and remarkable. The girl's locks were + black as the raven's wing: her figure was tall and slender, but elastic + and full of symmetry. The ivory itself was not more white nor glossy than + her skin; her teeth were—bright and beautiful, and her mouth a + perfect rosebud. It is unnecessary to say that her eyes we're black and + brilliant, for such ever belong to her complexion and temperament; but it + in necessary to add, that they were piercing and unsettled, and you felt + that they looked into you rather than at you or upon you. In fact, her + features were all perfect, yet it often happened that their general + expression was productive of no agreeable feeling on the beholder. + Sometimes her smile was sweet as that of an angel, but let a single + impulse or whim be checked, and her face assumed a character of malignity + that made her beauty appear like that which we dream of in an evil spirit. + </p> + <p> + The other woman, who stood to her in the relation of step-mother, was + above the middle size. Her hair was sandy, or approaching to a pale red; + her features were coarse, but regular; and her whole figure that of a + well-made and powerful woman. In her countenance might be read a peculiar + blending of sternness and benignity, each evidently softened down by an + expression of melancholy—perhaps of suffering—as if some + secret care lay brooding at her heart. The inside of the hovel itself had + every mark of poverty and destitution about it. Two or three stools, a pot + or two, one miserable standing bed, and a smaller one gathered up under a + rug in the corner, were almost all that met the eye on entering it; and + simple as these meagre portions of furniture were, they bore no marks of + cleanliness or care. On the contrary, everything appeared to be neglected, + squalid and filthy—such, precisely, as led one to see at a glance + that the inmates of this miserable hut were contented with their wretched + state of life, and had no notion whatsoever that any moral or domestic + duty existed, by which they might be taught useful notions of personal + comfort and self-respect. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said the young woman, addressing her step-mother, as she entered, + “you're come back at last, an' a purty time you tuck to stay away!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the other, calmly, “I'm here now at any rate; but I see + you're in one of your tantrums, Sally, my lady. What's wrong, I say? In + the mean time don't look as if you'd ait us widout salt.” + </p> + <p> + “An' a bitter morsel you'd be,” replied the younger, with a flashing + glance—“divil a more so. Here am I, sittin', or running out an' in, + these two hours, when I ought to be at the dance in Kilnahushogue, before + I go to Barny Gormly's wake; for I promised to be at both. Why didn't you + come home in time?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise, achora, it wasn't agreeable to me to do so. I'm beginnin' to got + ould an' stiff, an' its time for me to take care of myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Stiffer may you be, then, soon, an' oulder may you never be, an' that's + the best I wish you!” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you afeard to talk to me in that way?” said the elder of the two. + </p> + <p> + “No—not a bit. You won't flake me now as you used to do. I am able + an' willin' to give blow for blow at last, thank goodness; an' will, too, + if ever you thry that thrick.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman gazed at her angrily, and appeared for a moment to meditate + an assault. After a pause, however, during which the brief but vehement + expression of rising fury passed from her countenance, and her face + assumed an expression more of compassion than of anger, she simply said, + in a calm tone of voice— + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that I ought to blame you so much for your temper, Sarah. + The darkness of your father's sowl is upon yours; his wicked spirit is in + you, an' may Heaven above grant that you'll never carry about with you, + through this unhappy life, the black an' heavy burden that weighs down his + heart! If God hasn't said it, you have his coorse, or something nearly as + bad, before you. Oh! go to the wake as soon as you like, an' to the dance, + too. Find some one that'll take you off of my hands; that'll put a house + over your head—give you a bit to ait, an' a rag to put on you; an' + may God pity him that's doomed to get you! If the woeful state of the + country, an' the hunger an' sickness that's abroad, an' that's comin' + harder an' faster on us every day, can't tame you or keep you down, I + dunna what will. I'm sure the black an' terrible summer we've had ought to + make you think of how we'll get over all that's before us! God pity you, I + say again, an' whatever poor man is to be cursed wid you!” + </p> + <p> + “Keep your pity for them that wants it,” replied the other, “an' that's + not me. As for God's pity, it isn't yours to give, and even if it was, you + stand in need of it yourself more than I do. You're beginning to praich to + us now that you're not able to bait us; but for your praichments an' your + baitins, may the divil pay you for all alike!—as he will—an' + that's my prayer.” + </p> + <p> + A momentary gush of the step-mother's habitual passion overcame her; she + darted at her step-daughter, who sprung to her limbs, and flew at her in + return. The conflict at first was brief, for the powerful strength of the + elder female soon told. Sarah, however, quickly disengaged herself, and + seizing an old knife which lay on a shell that served as a dresser, she + made a stab at the very heart of her step-mother, panting as she did it + with an exulting vehemence of vengeance that resembled the growlings which + a savage beast makes when springing on its prey. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” she exclaimed, “you have it now—you have it! Call on God's + pity now, for you'll soon want it. Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + The knife, however, owing to the thick layers of cloth with which the + dress of the other was patched, as well as to the weakness of the thin and + worn blade, did not penetrate her clothes, nor render her any injury + whatsoever. The contest was again resumed. Sarah, perceiving that she had + missed her aim, once more put herself into a posture to renew the deadly + attempt; and the consequence was, that a struggle now took place between + them which might almost be termed one for life and death. It was indeed a + frightful and unnatural struggle. The old woman, whose object was, if + possible, to disarm her antagonist, found all her strength—and it + was great—scarcely a match for the murderous ferocity which was now + awakened in her. The grapple between them consequently became furious; and + such was the terrible impress of diabolical malignity which passion + stamped upon the features of this young tigress, that her step-mother's + heart, for a moment quailed on beholding it, especially when associated + with the surprising activity and strength which she put forth., Her dark + and finely-pencilled eye-brows were fiercely knit, as it were, into one + dark line; her lips were drawn back, displaying her beautiful teeth, that + were now ground together into what resembled the lock of death: her face + was pale with over-wrought with resentment, and her deep-set eyes glowed + with a wild and flashing fire that was fearful, while her lips were + encircled with the white foam of revengeful and deadly determination; and + what added most to the terrible expression on her whole face was the + exulting smile of cruelty which shed its baleful light over it, resolving + the whole contest, as it were, and its object—the murder of her + step-mother—into the fierce play of some beautiful vampire that was + ravening for the blood of its awakened victim. + </p> + <p> + After a struggle of some two or three minutes, the strength and coolness + of the step-mother at length prevailed, she wrested the knife out of + Sarah's hands and, almost at the same moment, stumbled and fell. The + other, however, was far from relaxing her hold. On the contrary, she clung + to her fiercely, shouting out— + </p> + <p> + “I won't give you up yet—I love you too well for that—no, no, + it's fond of you I'm gettin'. I'll hug you, mother, dear; ay will I, and + kiss you too, an' lave my mark behind me!” and, as she spoke, her + step-mother felt her face coming in savage proximity to her own. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't keep away, Sarah,” said the other, “I'll stab you. What do + you mane, you bloody devil? It is going to tear my flesh with your teeth + you are? Hould off! or, as heaven's above us, I'll stab you with the + knife.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't,” shouted the other; “the knife's bent, or you'd be done for + before this. I'll taste your blood for all that!” and, as the words were + uttered, the step-mother gave a sudden scream, making at the same time a + violent effort to disentangle herself, which she did. + </p> + <p> + Sarah started to her feet, and flying towards the door, exclaimed with + shouts of wild triumphant laughter— + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! do you feel anything? I was near havin' the best part of one + of your ears—ha, ha, ha!—but unfortunately I missed it; an' + now look to yourself. Your day is gone, an' mine is come. I've tasted-your + blood, an' I like it—ha, ha, ha!—an' if as you say it's kind + father for me to be fond o' blood, I say you had better take care of + yourself. And I tell you more: we'll take care of your fair-haired beauty + for you—my father and myself will—an' I'm told to act against + her, an' I will too; an' you'll see what we'll bring your pet, <i>Gra Gal</i> + Sullivan, to yet! There's news for you!” + </p> + <p> + She then went down to the river which flowed past, in whose yellow and + turbid waters—for it was now swollen with rain—she washed the + blood from her hands and face with an apparently light heart. Having + meditated for some time, she fell a laughing at the fierce conflict that + had just taken place, exclaiming to herself— + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! Well now if I had killed her—got the ould knife into + her heart—I might lave the counthry. If I had killed her now, throth + it 'ud be a good joke, an' all in a fit of passion, bekase she didn't come + home in time to let me meet him. Well, I'll go back an' spake soft to her, + for, afther all, she'll give me a hard life of it.” + </p> + <p> + She returned; and, having entered the hut, perceived that the ear and + cheek of her step-mother were still bleeding. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry for what I did,” she said, with the utmost frankness and good + nature. “Forgive me, mother; you know I'm a hasty devil—for a + devil's limb I am, no doubt of it. Forgive me, I say—do now—here, + I'll get something to stop the blood.” + </p> + <p> + She sprang at the moment, with the agility of a wild cat, upon an old + chest that stood in the corner of the hut, exhibiting as she did it, a leg + and foot of surpassing symmetry and beauty. By stretching herself up to + her full length, she succeeded in pulling down several old cobwebs that + had been for years in the corner of the wall; and in the act of doing so, + disturbed some metallic substance, which fell first upon the chest, from + which it tumbled off to the ground, where it made two or three narrowing + circles, and then lay at rest. + </p> + <p> + “Murdher alive, mother!” she exclaimed, “what is this? Hallo! a + tobaccy-box—a fine round tobaccy-box of iron, bedad—an what's + this on it!—let me see; two letthers. Wait till I rub the rust off; + or stay, the rust shows them as well. Let me see—P. an' what's the + other? ay, an' M. P. M.—arra, what can that be for? Well, devil may + care! let it lie on the shelf there. Here now—none of your cross + looks, I say—put these cobwebs to your face, an' they'll stop the + bleedin'. Ha, ha, ha!—well—ha, ha, ha!—but you are a + sight to fall in love wid this minute!” she exclaimed, laughing heartily + at the blood-stained visage of the other. “You won't spake, I see. Divil + may care then, if you don't you'll do the other thing—let it alone: + but, at any rate, there's the cobwebs for you, if you like to put them on; + an' so <i>bannatht latht</i>, an' let that be a warnin' to you not to + raise your hand to me again. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'A sailor courted a farmer's daughter + That lived contageous to the isle of Man,'” &c. +</pre> + <p> + She then directed her steps to the dance in Kilnahushogue, where one would + actually suppose, if mirth, laughter, and extraordinary buoyancy of + spirits could be depended on, that she was gifted, in addition to her + remarkable beauty, with the innocent and delightful disposition of an + angel. + </p> + <p> + The step-mother having dressed the wound as well as she could, sat down by + the fire and began to ruminate on the violent contest which had just taken + place, and in which she had borne such an unfortunate part. This was the + first open and determined act of personal resistance which she had ever, + until that moment, experienced at her step-daughter's hands; but now she + feared that, if they were to live, as heretofore, under the same roof, + their life would be one of perpetual strife—perhaps of ultimate + bloodshed—and that these domestic brawls might unhappily terminate + in the death of either. She felt that her own temper was none of the best, + and knew that so long as she was incapable of restraining it, or + maintaining her coolness under the provocations to which the violent + passions of Sarah would necessarily expose her, so long must such + conflicts as that which had just occurred take place between them. She + began now to fear Sarah, with whose remorseless disposition she was too + well acquainted, and came to the natural conclusion, that a residence + under the same roof was by no means compatible with her own safety. + </p> + <p> + “She has been a curse to me!” she went on, unconsciously speaking aloud; + “for when she wasn't able to bate me herself, her father did it for her. + The divil is said to be fond of his own; an' so does he dote on her, + bekase she's his image in everything that's bad. A hard life I'll lead + between them from this out, espeshially now that she's got the upper hand + of me. Yet what else can I expect or desarve? This load that is on my + conscience is worse. Night and day I'm sufferin' in the sight of God, an' + actin' as if I wasn't to be brought in judgment afore him. What am I to + do? I wish I was in my grave! But then, agin', how am I to face death?—and + that same's not the worst; for afther death comes judgment! May the Lord + prepare me for it, and guide and direct me how to act! One thing, I know, + must be done—either she or I will lave this house; for live undher + the same roof wid her I will not.” + </p> + <p> + She then rose up, looked out of the door a moment, and, resuming her seat, + went on with her soliloquy— + </p> + <p> + “No; he said it was likely he wouldn't be home to-night. Wanst he gets + upon his ould prophecies, he doesn't care how long he stays away; an' why + he can take the delight he does in prophesyin' and foretellin' good or + evil, accordin' as it sarves his purpose, I'm sure I don't know—espeshially + when he only laughs in his sleeve at the people for believin' him; but + what's that about poor <i>Gra Gal</i> Sullivan? She threatened her, and + spoke of her father, too, as bein' in it. Ah, ah! I must watch him there; + an' you, too, my lady divil—for it 'ill go hard wid me if either of + you injure a hair of her head. No, no, plaise God!—none of your evil + doins or unlucks prophecies for her, so long, any way, as I can presarve + her from them. How black the evenin' is gatherin', but God knows that it's + the awful saison all out for the harvest—it is that—it is + that!” + </p> + <p> + Having given utterance to these sentiments, she took up the tobacco-box + which Sarah had, in such an accidental manner, tumbled out of the wall, + and surveying it for some moments, laid it hastily on the chest, and, + clasping her hands exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Saviour of life! it's the same! Oh, merciful God, it's thrue! it's thrue!—the + very same I seen wid him that evenin': I know it by the broken hinge and + the two letthers. The Lord forgive me my sins!—for I see now that do + what we may, or hide it as we like, God is above all! Saviour of life, how + will this end? an' what will I do?—or how am I to act? But any way, + I must hide this, and put it out of his reach.” + </p> + <p> + She accordingly went out, and having ascertained that no person saw her, + thrust the box up under the thatch of the roof, in such a way that it was + impossible to suspect, by any apparent disturbance of the roof, that it + was there; after which, she sat down with sensations of dread that were + new to her, and that mingled themselves as strongly with her affections as + it was possible for a woman of a naturally firm and undaunted character to + feel them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — The Black Prophet Prophesies. + </h2> + <p> + At a somewhat more advanced period of the same evening, two men were on + their way from the market-town of Ballynafail, towards a fertile portion + of the country, named Aughamuran, which lay in a southern direction from + it. One of them was a farmer, of middling, or rather of struggling, + circumstances, as was evident from the traces of wear and tear that were + visible upon a dress that had once been comfortable and decent, although + now it bore the marks of careful, though rather extensive repair. He was a + thin placid looking man, with something, however, of a careworn expression + in his features, unless when he smiled, and then his face beamed with a + look of kindness and goodwill that could not readily be forgotten. The + other was a strongly-built man, above the middle size, whose complexion + and features were such as no one could look on with indifference, so + strongly were they indicative of a twofold character, or, we should rather + say, calculated to make a twofold impression. At one moment you might + consider him handsome, and at another his countenance filled you with an + impression of repugnance, if not of absolute aversion; so stern and + inhuman were the characteristics which you read in it. His hair, beard, + and eye-brows were an ebon black, as were his eyes; his features were hard + and massive; his nose, which was somewhat hooked, but too much pointed, + seemed as if, while in a plastic state, it had been sloped by a trowel + towards one side of his face, a circumstance which, while taken in + connection with his black whiskers that ran to a point near his mouth, and + piercing eyes, that were too deeply and narrowly set, gave him, aided by + his heavy eyebrows, an expression at once of great cruelty and + extraordinary cunning. This man, while travelling in the same direction + with the other, had suffered himself to be overtaken by him: in such a + manner, however, that their coming in contact could not be attributed to + any particular design on his part. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, <i>Donnel Dhu</i>,” said the farmer, “sure it's a sight for + sore eyes to see you in this side of the country; an' now that I do see + you, how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Jist the ould six-an'-eight-pence, Jerry; an' how is the Sullivan blood + in you, man alive? good an' ould blood it is, in troth; how is the + family?” + </p> + <p> + “Why we can't—hut, what was I goin' to say?” replied his companion; + “we can't—complain—ershi—mishi!—why, then, God + help us, it's we that can complain, Donnel, if there was any use in it; + but, mavrone, there isn't; so all I can say is, that we're jist mixed + middlin', like the praties in a harvest, or hardly that same, indeed, + since this woful change that has come on us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” replied the other; “but if that change has come on you, you know + it didn't come without warnin' to the counthry; there's a man livin' that + foretould as much—that seen it comin'—ay, ever since the pope + was made prisoner, for that was what brought Bonaparte's fate—that's + now the cause of the downfall of everything upon him.” + </p> + <p> + “An' it was the hard fate for us, as well as for himself,” replied + Sullivan, “little he thought, or little he cared, for what he made us + suffer, an' for what he's makin' us suffer still, by the come-down that + the prices have got.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but he's sufferin' himself more than any of us,” replied Donnel; + “however, that was prophesied too; it's read of in the ould Chronicles. + 'An eagle will be sick,' says St. Columbkill, 'but the bed of the sick + eagle is not a tree, but a rock; an' there, he must suffer till the curse + of the Father* is removed from him; an' then he'll get well, an' fly over + the world.'” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This is—the Pope, in consequence of Bonaparte having + imprisoned him. +</pre> + <p> + “Is that in the prophecy, Donnel?” + </p> + <p> + “It's St. Columbian's words I'm spakin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, at any rate,” replied Sullivan, “I didn't care we had back the + war prices again; aither that, or that the dear rents were let down to + meet the poor prices we have now. This woeful saison, along wid the low + prices and the high rents, houlds out a black and terrible look for the + counthry, God help us!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” returned the Black Prophet, for it was he, “if you only knew it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, was that, too, prophesied?” inquired Sullivan. + </p> + <p> + “Was it? No; but ax yourself is it. Isn't the Almighty in his wrath, this + moment proclaimin' it through the heavens and the airth? Look about you, + and say what is it you see that does not foretel famine—famine—famine! + Doesn't the dark wet day, an' the rain, rain, rain, foretel it? Doesn't + the rotten' crops, the unhealthy air, an' the green damp foretel it? + Doesn't the sky without a sun, the heavy clouds, an' the angry fire of the + West, foretel it? Isn't the airth a page of prophecy, an' the sky a page + of prophecy, where every man may read of famine, pestilence, an' death? + The airth is softened for the grave, an' in the black clouds of heaven you + may see the death-hearses movin' slowly along—funeral afther funeral—funeral + afther funeral—an' nothing to folly them but lamentation an' wo, by + the widow an' orphan—the fatherless, the motherless, an' the + childless—wo an' lamentation—lamentation an' wo.” + </p> + <p> + Donnel Dhu, like every prophecy man of his kind—a character in + Ireland, by the way, that has nearly, if not altogether, disappeared—was + provided with a set of prophetic declamations suited to particular + occasions and circumstances, and these he recited in a voice of high and + monotonous recitative, that caused them to fall with a very impressive + effect upon the minds and feeling of his audience. In addition to this, + the very nature of his subject rendered a figurative style and suitable + language necessary, a circumstance which, aided by a natural flow of + words, and a felicitious illustration of imagery—for which, indeed, + all prophecy-men were remarkable—had something peculiarly + fascinating and persuasive to the class of persons he was in the habit of + addressing. The gifts of these men, besides, were exercised with such + singular delight, that the constant repetition of their oracular + exhibitions by degrees created an involuntary impression on themselves, + that ultimately rose to a kind of wild and turbid enthusiasm, partaking at + once of imposture and fanaticism. Many of them were, therefore, nearly as + much the dupes of the delusions that proceeded from their own heated + imaginations as the ignorant people who looked upon them as oracles; for + we know that nothing at all events so much generates imposture as + credulity. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Donnel,” replied Sullivan, “what you say is unfortunately too + thrue. Everything we can look upon appears to have the mark of God's + displeasure on it; but if we have death and sickness now, what'll become + of us this time twelve months, when we'll feel this failure most?” + </p> + <p> + “I have said it,” replied the prophet; “an' if my tongue doesn't tell + truth, the tongue that never tells a lie will.” + </p> + <p> + “And what tongue is that?” asked his companion. + </p> + <p> + “The tongue of the death-bell will tell it day afther day to every parish + in the land. However, we know that death's before us, an' the grave, + afther all, is our only consolation.” + </p> + <p> + “God help us,” exclaimed Sullivan, “if we hadn't betther and brighter + consolation than the grave. Only for the hopes in our Divine Redeemer an' + his mercy, it's little consolation the grave could give us. But indeed, + Donnel, as you say, everything about us is enough to sink the heart within + one—an' no hope at all of a change for the betther. However, God is + good, and, if it's His will that we should suffer, it's our duty to submit + to it.” + </p> + <p> + The prophet looked around him with a gloomy aspect, and, truth to say, the + appearance of everything on which the eye could rest, was such as gave + unquestionable indications of wide-spread calamity to the country. + </p> + <p> + The evening, which was now far advanced, had impressed on it a character + of such dark and hopeless desolation as weighed down the heart with a + feeling of cold and chilling gloom that was communicated by the dreary + aspect of every thing around. The sky was obscured by a heavy canopy of + low, dull clouds that had about them none of the grandeur of storm, but + lay overhead charged with those wintry deluges which we feel to be so + unnatural and alarming in autumn, whose bounty and beauty they equally + disfigure and destroy. The whole summer had been sunless and wet—one, + in fact, of ceaseless rain which fell, day after day, week after week, and + month after month, until the sorrowful consciousness had arrived that any + change for the better must now come too late, and that nothing was certain + but the terrible union of famine, disease, and death which was to follow. + The season, owing to the causes specified, was necessarily late, and such + of the crops as were, ripe had a sickly and unthriving look, that told of + comparative failure, while most of the fields which, in our autumns, would + have been ripe and yellow, were now covered with a thin, backward crop, so + unnaturally green that all hope of maturity was out of the question. Low + meadows were in a state of inundation, and on alluvial soils the ravages + of the floods Were visible in layers of mud and gravel that were deposited + over many of the prostrate corn fields. The peat turf lay in oozy and + neglected heaps, for there had not been sun enough to dry it sufficiently + for use, so that the poor had want of fuel, and cold to feel, as well as + want of food itself. Indeed, the appearance of the country, in consequence + of this wetness in the firing, was singularly dreary and depressing. Owing + to the difficulty with which it burned, or rather wasted away, without + light or heat, the eye, in addition to the sombre hue which the absence of + the sun cast over all things, was forced to dwell upon the long black + masses of smoke which trailed slowly over the whole country, or hung, + during the thick sweltering calms, in broad columns that gave to the face + of nature an aspect strikingly dark and disastrous, when associated, as it + was, with the destitution and suffering of the great body of the people. + The general appearance of the crops was indeed deplorable. In some parts + the grain was beaten down by the rain; in airier situations it lay cut but + unsaved, and scattered over the fields, awaiting an occasional glance of + feeble sunshine; and in other and richer soils, whole fields, deplorably + lodged, were green with the destructive exuberance of a second growth. The + season, though wet, was warm; and it is unnecessary to say that the + luxuriance of all weeds and unprofitable production was rank and strong, + while an unhealthy fermentation pervaded every thing that was destined for + food. A brooding stillness, too, lay over all nature; cheerfulness had + disappeared, even the groves and hedges were silent, for the very birds + had ceased to sing, and the earth seemed as if it mourned for the + approaching calamity, as well as for that which had been already felt. The + whole country, in fact, was weltering and surging with the wet formed by + the incessant overflow of rivers, while the falling cataracts, joined to a + low monotonous hiss, or what the Scotch term <i>sugh</i>, poured their + faint but dismal murmurs on the gloomy silence which otherwise prevailed + around. + </p> + <p> + Such was the aspect of the evening in question: but as the men advanced, a + new element of desolation soon became visible. The sun, ere he sank among + the dark western clouds, shot out over this dim and miserable prospect a + light so angry, yet so ghastly, that it gave to the whole earth a wild, + alarming, and spectral hue, like that seen in some feverish dream. In this + appearance there was great terror and sublimity, for as it fell on the + black shifting clouds, the effect was made still more awful by the + accidental resemblance which they bore to coffins, hearses, and funeral + processions, as observed by the prophecy-man, all of which seemed to have + been lit up against the deepening shades of evening by some gigantic + death-light that superadded its fearful omens to the gloomy scenes on + which it fell. + </p> + <p> + The sun, as he then appeared, might not inaptly be compared to some great + prophet, who, clothed with the majesty and terror of I an angry God, was + commissioned to launch! his denunciations against the iniquities of + nations, and to reveal to them, as they lay under the shadow of his wrath, + the terrible calamities with which he was about to visit their + transgressions. + </p> + <p> + The two men now walked on in silence for some time, Donnel Dhu having not + deemed it necessary to make any reply to the pious and becoming sentiments + uttered by Sullivan. + </p> + <p> + At length the latter spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Barrin' what we all know, Donnel, an' that's the saison an' the sufferin' + that's in it, is there no news stirrin' at all? Is it thrue that ould Dick + o' the Grange is drawin' near to his last account?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so bad as that; but he's still complainin'. It's one day up and + another day down wid' him—an' of coorse his laise of life can't be + long now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” responded Sullivan, “it's not for us to pass judgment on our + fellow-creatures; but by all accounts he'll have a hard reckonin'.” + </p> + <p> + “That's his own affair, you know,” said Donnel Dhu; “but his son, master + Richard, or 'Young Dick,' as they call him, will be an improvement upon + the ould stock.” + </p> + <p> + “As to that, some says ay, an' some says no; but I believe myself, that he + has, like his father, both good and bad in him; for the ould man, if the + maggot bit him, or that if he took the notion, would do one a good turn; + an' if he took a likin' to you, he'd go any lin'th to sarve you; but, + then, you were never sure of him—nor he didn't himself know this + minute what he'd do the next.” + </p> + <p> + “That's thrue enough,” replied Donnel Dhu; “but lavin' him to shift for + himself, I'm of opinion that you an' I are likely to get wet jackets + before we're much oulder. Ha! Did you see that lightnin'? God presarve us! + it was terrible—an'—ay, there it is—the thundher! God be + about us, thundher at this hour is very fearful. I would give a thrifle to + be in my own little cabin, an' indeed I'm afeard that I won't be worth the + washin' when I get there, if I can go back sich a night as it's goin' to + be.” + </p> + <p> + “The last few years, Donnel, has brought a grievous change,upon me and + mine,” replied Sullivan. “The time was, an' it's not long since, when I + could give you a comfortable welcome as well as a willin' one; however, + thank God, it isn't come to sich a hard pass wid me yet that I haven't a + roof an' a bit to ait to offer you; an' so to sich as it is you're + heartily welcome. Home! oh, you mustn't talk of home this night. Blood, + you know, is thicker than wather, an' if it was only on your wife Nolly's + account, you should be welcome. Second an' third cousins by the mother's + side we are, an' that's purty strong. Oh, no, don't talk of goin' home + this night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the other, “I'm thankful to you, Jerry, an' indeed as the + night's comin' on so hard and stormy, I'll accept your kind offer; a + mouthful of any thing will do me, an' a dry sate at your hearth till + mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, as I said,” replied Sullivan, “it's but poor an' humble + treatment I can give you; but if it was betther you should be jist as + welcome to it, an' what more can I say?” + </p> + <p> + “What more can you say, indeed! I know your good heart, Jerry, as who + doesn't? Dear me, how it's poorin' over there towards the south—ha, + there it is again, that thundher! Well, thank goodness, we haven't far to + go, at any rate, an' the shower hasn't come round this far yet. In the + mean time let us step out an' thry to escape it if we can.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us cross the fields, then,” said Sullivan, “an' get up home by the + Slang, an' then behind our garden: to be sure, the ground is in a sad + plash, but then it will save a long twist round the road, an' as you say, + we may escape the rain yet.” + </p> + <p> + Both accordingly struck off the highway, and took a short path across the + fields, while at every step the water spurted up out of the spongy soil, + so that they were soon wet nearly to their knees, so thoroughly saturated + was the ground with the rain which had incessantly fallen. After toiling + thro' plashy fields, they at length went up, as Sullivan had said, by an + old unfrequented footpath, that ran behind his garden, the back of which + consisted of a thick elder hedge, through which scarcely the heaviest rain + could penetrate. At one end of this garden, through a small angle, forming + a <i>cul de sac</i>, or point, where the hedge was joined by one of white + thorn, ran the little obsolete pathway alluded to, and as another angle + brought them at once upon the spot we are describing, it would so happen + that if any one had been found there when they appeared, it would be + impossible to leave it if they wished to do so, without directly meeting + them, there being no other mode of egress from it except by the footpath + in question. + </p> + <p> + In that sheltered nook, then, our travellers found a young man about two + or three and twenty, holding the unresisting hand of a very beautiful and + bashful-looking girl, not more than nineteen, between his. From their + position, and the earnestness with which the young peasant addressed her, + there could be but little doubt as to the subject matter of their + conversation. If a bolt from the thunder which had been rolling a little + back among the mountains, and which was still faintly heard in the + distance, had fallen at the feet of the young persons in question, it + could not have filled them with more alarm than the appearance of Sullivan + and the prophet. The girl, who became pale and red by turns, hung her + head, then covered her face with her hands; and after a short and + ineffectual struggle, burst into tears, exclaiming— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God, it is my father!” + </p> + <p> + The youth, for he seemed scarcely to have reached maturity, after a + hesitating glance at Sullivan, seemed at once to have determined the + course of conduct he should pursue. His eye assumed a bold and resolute + look—he held himself more erect—and, turning towards the girl, + without removing his gaze from her father, he said in a loud and manly + tone— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mave, it is foolish to be frightened. What have you done that ought + to make you aither ashamed or afeared? If there's blame anywhere, it's + mine, not yours, and I'll bear it.” + </p> + <p> + Sullivan, on discovering this stolen interview—for such it was—felt + precisely as a man would feel, who found himself unexpectedly within the + dart of a rattlesnake, with but one chance of safety in his favor and a + thousand against him. His whole frame literally shook with the deadly + depth of his resentment; and in a voice which fully betrayed its + vehemence, he replied— + </p> + <p> + “Blame! ay, shame an' blame—sin an' sorrow there is an' ought to + rest upon her for this unnatural and cursed meetin'! Blame! surely, an' as + I stand here to witness her shame, I tell her that there would not be a + just God in Heaven, if she's not yet punished for holdin' this guilty + discoorse with the son of the man that has her uncle's blood—my + brother's blood—on his hand of murdher—” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/pageBP785.jpg" + alt="Page 785-- 'it's False,' Replied the Young Fellow " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “It's false,” replied the young fellow, with kindling eye; “it's false, + from your teeth to your marrow. I know my father's heart an' his thought—an' + I say that whoever charges him with the murder of your brother, is a liar—a + false and damnable li—” + </p> + <p> + He checked himself ere he closed the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Jerry Sullivan,” said he, in an altered voice, “I ax your pardon for the + words—-it's but natural you should feel as you do; but if it was any + other man than yourself that brought the charge of blood against my + father, I would thramp upon him where he stands.” + </p> + <p> + “An' maybe murdher him, as my poor brother was murdhered. Dalton, I see + the love of blood in your eye,” replied Sullivan, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the other, “you have no proof that the man was murdered at + all. His body was never found; and no one can say what became of him. For + all that any one knows to the contrary, he may be alive still.” + </p> + <p> + “Begone, sirra,” said Sullivan, in a burst of impetuous resentment which + he could not restrain, “if I ever know you to open your lips to that + daughter of mine—if the mane crature can be my daughter—I'll + make it be the blackest deed but one that ever a Dalton did; and as for + you—go in at wonst—I'll make you hear me by and by.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton looked at him once more with a kindling but a smiling eye. + </p> + <p> + “Speak what you like,” said he—“I'll curb myself. Only, if you wish + your daughter to go in, you had better leave the way and let her pass.” + </p> + <p> + Mave—for such was her name—with trembling limbs, burning + blushes and palpitating heart, then passed from the shady angle where they + stood; but ere she did, one quick and lightning glance was bestowed upon + her lover, which, brief though it was, he felt as a sufficient consolation + for the enmity of her father. + </p> + <p> + The prophet had not yet spoken; nor indeed had time been given him to do + so, had he been inclined. He looked on, however, with' surprise, which + soon assumed the appearance, as well as the reality, of some malignant + satisfaction which he could not conceal. + </p> + <p> + He eyed Dalton with a grin of peculiar bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “it's the general opinion that if any one knows or can + tell what the future may bring about, I can; an', if my knowledge doesn't + desave me, Dalton, I think, while you're before me, that I'm lookin' at a + man that was never born to be drowned at any rate. I prophecy that, die + when you may, you'll live to see your own funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “If you're wise,” replied the young man, “you'll not provoke me now Jerry + Sullivan may say what he wishes—he's safe, an he knows why; but I + warn you, Donnel Dhu, to take no liberty with me; I'll not bear it. + </p> + <p> + “Troth, I don't blame Jerry Sullivan,” rejoined the prophet. “Of coorse no + man would wish to have a son-in-law hanged. It's in the prophecy that + you'll go to the surgeons yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you foresee in your prophecies this mornin' that you'd get yourself + well drubbed before night?” asked Dalton, bristling up. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the other; “my prophecy seen no one able to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “You and your prophecy are liars, then,” retorted the other: “an' in the + doom you're kind enough to give me, don't be too sure but you meant + yourself. There's more of murdher an' the gallows in your face than there + is in mine. That's all I'll say, Donnel. Anything else you'll get from me + will be a blow; so take care of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him alone, Donnel,” said Sullivan; “it's not safe to meddle with one + of his name. You don't know what harm he may do you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not afeard of him,” said the prophet, with a sneer; “he'll find + himself a little mistaken, if he tries his hand. It won't be for me you'll + hang, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + The words were scarcely uttered when a terrific blow on the eye, struck + with the rapidity of lightning, shot him to the earth, where he lay for + about half a minute, apparently insensible. He then got up, and after + shaking his head, as if to rid himself of a sense of confusion and stupor, + looked at Dalton for some time. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “it's all over now—but the truth is, the fault was + my own. I provoked him too much, an' without any occasion. I'm sorry you + struck me, Condy, for I was only jokin' all the time. I never had ill-will + against you; an' in spite of what has happened, I haven't now.” + </p> + <p> + A feeling of generous regret, almost amounting to remorse, instantly + touched Dalton's heart; he seized the hand of Donnel, and expressed his + sorrow for the blow he had given him. + </p> + <p> + “My God,” he exclaimed, “why did I strike you? But sure no one could for a + minute suppose that you weren't in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said the other, “let it be a warnin' to both of us; to me, + in the first place, never to carry a joke too far; and to you, never to + allow your passion to get the betther of you, afaird that you might give a + blow in anger that you'd have cause to repent of all the days of your + life. My eye and cheek is in a frightful state; but no matther, Condy, I + forgive you, especially in the hope that you'll mark my advice.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton once more asked his pardon, and expressed his unqualified sorrow at + what had occurred; after which he again shook hands with Dalton and + departed. + </p> + <p> + Sullivan felt surprised at this rencontre, especially at the nature of its + singular termination; he seemed, however, to fall into a meditative and + gloomy mood, and observed when Dalton had gone— + </p> + <p> + “If I ever had any doubt, Donnel, that my poor brother owed his death to a + Dalton, I haven't it now.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame you much for sayin' so,” replied Donnel. “I'm sorry myself + for what has happened, and especially as you were present. I'm afeard, + indeed', that a man's life would be but little in that boy's hands under a + fit of passion. I provoked him too much, though.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” said Sullivan. “Indeed, to tell you the truth, I had as + little notion that you wore jokin' as he had.” + </p> + <p> + “That's my drame out last night, at all events,” said Donnel. + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” asked Sullivan, as they approached the door. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, “I dreamed that I was lookin' for a hammer at your house, + an' I thought that you hadn't one to give me; but your daughter Mave came + to me, and said, 'here's a hammer for you, Donnel, an' take care of it, + for it belongs to Condy Dalton.' I thought I took it, an' the first thing + I found myself doin' was drivin' a nail in what appeared to be my own + coffin. The same dhrame would alarm me but that I know that dhrames goes + by contrairies, as I've reason to think this will.” + </p> + <p> + “No man understands these things better than yourself, Donnel,” said + Sullivan; “but, for my part, I think there's a dangerous kick in the boy + that jist left us; and I'm much mistaken or the world will hear of it an' + know it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Donnel Dhu, in a very Christian-like spirit, “I fear + you're right, Jerry; but still let us hope for the best.” + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke, they entered the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — A Family on the Decline—Omens. + </h2> + <p> + Jerry Sullivan's house and place had about them all the marks and tokens + of gradual decline. The thatch on the roof had begun to get black, and in + some places was sinking into rotten ridges; the yard was untidy and dirty; + the walls and hedges were broken and dismantled; and the gates were lying + about, or swinging upon single hinges. The whole air of the premises was + uncomfortable to the spectator, who could not avoid feeling that there + existed in the owner either wilful neglect or unsuccessful struggle. The + chimneys, from which the thatch had sank down, stood up with the + incrustations of lime that had been trowelled round their bases, + projecting uselessly out from them; some of the quoins had fallen from the + gable; the plaster came off the walls in several places, and the whitewash + was sadly discolored. + </p> + <p> + Inside, the aspect of everything was fully as bad, if not worse. Tables + and chairs, and the general furniture of the house, had all that character + of actual cleanliness and apparent want of care which poverty superinduces + upon the most strenuous efforts of industry. The floor was beginning to + break up into holes; tables and chairs were crazy; the dresser, though + clean, had a cold, hungry, unfurnished look; and, what was unquestionably + the worst symptom of all, the inside of the chimney brace, where formerly + the sides and flitches of deep, fat bacon, grey with salt, were arrayed in + goodly rows, now presented nothing but the bare and dust-covered hooks, + from which they had depended in happier times. About a dozen of herrings + hung at one side of a worn salt-box, and at the other a string of onions + that was nearly Stripped, both constituting the principal kitchen, varied, + perhaps, with a little buttermilk,—which Sullivan's family were then + able to afford themselves with their potatoes. + </p> + <p> + We cannot close our description here, however; for sorry we are to say, + that the severe traces of poverty were as visible upon the inmates + themselves as upon the house and its furniture. Sullivan's family + consisted of his eldest daughter, aged nineteen, two growing boys, the + eldest about sixteen, and several younger children besides. These last + were actually ragged—all of them were scantily and poorly clothed; + and if any additional proof were wanting that poverty, in one of its most + trying shapes, had come among them, it was to be found in their pale, + emaciated features, and in that languid look of care and depression, which + any diminution in the natural quantity of food for any length of time + uniformly impresses upon the countenance. In fact, the whole group had a + sickly and wo-worn appearance, as was evident from the unnatural dejection + of the young, who, instead of exhibiting the cheerfulness and animation of + youth, now moped about without gayety, sat brooding in corners, or + struggled for a warm place nearest to the dull and cheerless fire. + </p> + <p> + “The day was, Donnel,” said Sullivan, whilst he pointed, with a sigh, to + the unfurnished chimney, “when we could give you—as I said awhile + agone—a betther welcome—in one sense—I mane betther + tratement—than we can give you now; but you know the times that is + in it, an' you know the down-come we have got, an' that the whole country + has got—so you must only take the will for the deed now—to + such as we have you're heartily welcome. Get us some dinner, Bridget,” he + added, turning to his wife; “but, first and foremost, bring that girl into + the room here till she hears what I have to say to her; and, Donnel, as + you wor a witness to the disgraceful sight we seen a while agone, come in + an' hear, too, what I'm goin' to say to her. I'll have no black thraisin + in my own family against my own blood, an' against the blood of my loving + brother, that was so traicherously shed by that boy's father.” + </p> + <p> + The persons he addressed immediately passed into the cold, damp room as he + spoke—Mave, the cause of all this anxiety, evidently in such a state + of excitement as was pitiable. Her mother, who, as well as every other + member of the family, had been ignorant of this extraordinary attachment, + seemed perfectly bewildered by the language of her husband, at whom, as at + her daughter, she looked with a face on which might be read equal + amazement and alarm. + </p> + <p> + Mave Sullivan was a young creature, shaped with extraordinary symmetry, + and possessed of great natural grace. Her stature was tall, and all her + motions breathed; unstudied ease and harmony. In color, her long, abundant + hair was beautifully fair—precisely of that delightful shade which + generally accompanies a pale but exquisitely clear and almost transparent + complexion. Her face was oblong, and her features so replete with an + expression of innocence and youth, as left on the beholder a conviction + that she breathed of utter guilelessness and angelic purity itself. This + was principally felt in the bewitching charm of her smile, which was + irresistible, and might turn the heart of a demon into love. All her + motions were light and elastic, and her whole figure, though not + completely developed, was sufficiently rounded by the fulness of health + and youth to give promise of a rich and luxurious maturity. On this + occasion she became deadly pale, but as she was one of those whose beauty + only assumes a new phase of attraction at every change, her paleness now + made her appear, if possible, an object of greater interest. + </p> + <p> + “In God's name, Jerry,” asked her mother, looking from father to daughter + in a state of much distress, “what is wrong, or what has happened to put + you in such a condition? I see by the anger in your eye an' the whiteness + of your cheeks, barrin' the little red spot in the middle, that something + out o' the way all out has happened to vex you.” + </p> + <p> + “You may well say so, Bridget,” he replied; “but when I tell you that I + came upon that undutiful daughter of ours coortin' wid the son of the man + that murdhered her uncle—my only brother—you won't be + surprised at the state you see me in—coortin' wid a fellow that Dan + M'Gowan here knows will be hanged yet, for he's jist afther tellin' him + so.” + </p> + <p> + “You're ravin', Jerry,” exclaimed his wife, who appeared to feel the + matter as incredible; “you don't mane to tell me that she'd spake to, or + know, or make any freedoms whatsomever wid young Condy Dalton, the son of + her uncle's murdherer? Hut, no, Jerry, don't say that, at all events—any + disgrace but that—death, the grave—or—or anything—but + sich an unnatural curse as that would be.” + </p> + <p> + “I found them together behind the garden not many minutes ago,” replied + Sullivan. “Donnel here seen them as well as I did—deny it she can't; + an' now let her say what brought her there to meet him, or rather what + brought him all the way to meet her? Answer me that, you disgrace to the + name—answer me at wanst!” + </p> + <p> + The poor girl trembled and became so weak as to be scarcely able to stand: + in fact, she durst not raise her eye to meet that of either parent, but + stood condemned and incapable of utterance. + </p> + <p> + The night had now nearly set in, and one of her little sisters entered + with a rush candle in her hand, the light of which, as it fell dimly and + feebly on the group, gave to the proceedings a wild and impressive + appearance. The prophecy-man, with his dark, stern look, peculiar nose, + and black raven hair that fell thickly over his shoulders, contrasted + strongly with the fair, artless countenance and beautiful figure of the + girl who stood beside him, whilst over opposite them were Sullivan himself + and his wife, their faces pale with sorrow, anxiety, and indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the candle,” proceeded her father; “hand it to me, child, and + leave the room; then,” he proceeded, holding it up to a great-coat of + frieze which hung against the wall—“there's his coat—there's + my lovin' brother's coat; look upon it now, an' ax yourself what do you + desarve for meeting against our will an' consint the son of him that has + the murdher of the man that owned it on his hands an' on his heart? What + do you desarve, I say?” + </p> + <p> + The girl spoke not, but the black prophet, struck by the words and the + unexpected appearance of the murdered man's coat, started; in a moment, + however, he composed himself, and calmly turned his eyes upon Sullivan, + who proceeded to address his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing to say, then? You're guilty, an' of coorse you have no + excuse to make; however, I'll soon put an end to all this. Bring me a + prayerbook. If your book oath can bind you down against ever——” + </p> + <p> + He could proceed no further. On uttering the last words, his daughter + tottered, and would have fallen to the ground, had not Donnel Dhu caught + her in his arms. She had, in fact, become almost insensible from excess of + shame and over excitement, and, as Donnel carried her towards a bed that + was in the corner of the room, her head lay over against his face. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to say that Sullivan's indignation was immediately lost + in alarm. On bringing the candle near her, the first thing they observed + were streaks of blood upon Donnel Dhu's face, that gave to it, in + connection with the mark of the blow he had received, a frightful and + hideous expression. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” exclaimed her mother, seizing the candle and holding it to + the beautiful features of her trembling daughter, which were now also + dabbled with blood. “In God's name, what ails my child? O Mave, Mave, my + darlin', what's come over you? Blessed mother of marcy, what blood is + this? <i>Achora, machree</i>, Mave, spake to! me—to the mother that + 'ud go distracted, an' that will, too, if anything's wrong wid you. It was + cruel in you, Jerry, to spake to; her so harsh as you did, an' to take her + to task before a sthranger in such a cuttin' manner. Saiver of Airth, + Mave, darlin', won't you spake to me, to your own mother?”' + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I did spake to her too severely,” said the father, now relenting, + “an' if I did, may God forgive me; for sure you know, Bridget, I wouldn't + injure a hair of my darlin's head. But this blood! this blood! oh, where + did it come from?” + </p> + <p> + Her weakness, however, proved of but short duration, and their + apprehension was soon calmed. Mave looked around her rather wildly, and no + sooner had her eyes rested on Donnel Dhu than she shrieked aloud, and + turning her face away from him, with something akin to fear and horror, + she flung herself into her mother's arms, exclaiming, as she hid her face + in her bosom: “Oh save me from that man; don't let! him near me; don't let + him touch me. I can't tell why, but I'm deadly afraid of him. What blood + is that upon his face? Father, stand between us!” + </p> + <p> + “Foolish girl!” exclaimed her father, “you don't know what you're sayin'. + Of coorse, Donnel, you'll not heed her words for, indeed, she hasn't come + to herself yet. But, in God's name, where did this blood come from that's + upon you and her?” + </p> + <p> + “You can't suppose, Jerry,” said Donnel, “that the poor girl's words would + make me take any notice of them. She has been too much frightened, and + won't know, maybe in a few minutes, that she spoke them at all.” + </p> + <p> + “That's thrue,” said her mother; “but with regard to the blood——” + </p> + <p> + She was about to proceed, when Mave rose up, and requested to be taken out + of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Bring me to the kitchen,” said she, “I'm afraid; and see this blood, + mother.” + </p> + <p> + Precisely as she spoke, a few drops of blood fell from her nose, which, of + course, accounted for its appearance on Donnel's face, and probably for + her terror also at his repulsive aspect. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you afeard of poor Donnel, asthore?” asked her mother—“a + man that wouldn't injure a hair of your head, nor of one belongin' to you, + an' never did.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, when my father,” she returned, “spoke about the coat there, an' just + as Donnel started, I looked at it, an' seen it movin', I don't know why, + but I got afeard of him.” + </p> + <p> + Sullivan held up the candle mechanically, as she spoke, towards the coat, + upon which they all naturally gazed; but, whether from its dim flickering + light, or the force of imagination, cannot be determined, one thing was + certain, the coat appeared actually to move again, as if disturbed by some + invisible hand. Again, also, the prophet involuntary started, but only for + a single moment. + </p> + <p> + “Tut,” said he, “it's merely the unsteady light of the candle; show it + here.” + </p> + <p> + He seized the rushlight from Sullivan, and approaching the coat, held it + so close to it, that had there been the slightest possible motion, it + could not have escaped their observation. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he added, “you see whether it moves or not; but, indeed, the poor + girl is so frightened by the great scowldin' she got, that I don't wondher + at the way she's in.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sullivan kept still gazing at the coat, in a state of terror almost + equal to that of her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, “I've often heard it said that one is sometimes to + disbelieve their own eyes; an' only that I known the thing couldn't + happen, I would swear on the althar that I seen it movin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so myself, too,” observed Sullivan, who also seemed to have + been a good deal perplexed and awed by the impression; “but of coorse I + agree wid Donnel, that it was the unsteady light of the rush that made us + think so; howaniver, it doesn't matther now; move or no move, it won't + bring him that owned it back to us, so God rest him!—and now, + Bridget, thry an' get us some-thin' to ait.” + </p> + <p> + “Before the girl leaves the room,” said the prophecy man, “let me spake + what I think an' what I know. I've lost many a weary day an' night in + studyin' the further, an' in lookin' into what's to come. I must spake, + then, what I think an' what I know, regardin' her. I must; for when the + feelin' is on me, I can't keep the prophecy back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! let me go, mother,” exclaimed the alarmed girl; “let me go; I can't + bear to look at him.” + </p> + <p> + “One minute, acushla, till you hear what he has to say to you,” and she + held her back, with a kind of authoritative violence, as Mave attempted to + leave the room. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed my purty creature,” spoke the prophet; “don't be alarmed + at what I'm goin' to say to you, an' about you, for you needn't. I see + great good fortune before you. I see a grand an' handsome husband at your + side, and a fine house to live in. I see stairs, an' carpets, an' horses, + an' hounds, an' yourself, with jewels in your white little ears, an' + silks, an' satins on your purty figure. That's a wakin' dhrame I had, an' + you may all mark my words, if it doesn't come out thrue; it's on the leaf, + an' the leaf was open to me. Grandeur an' wealth is before her, for her + beauty an' her! goodness will bring it all about, an' so I read it.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what about the husband himself?” asked the mother, whose affections + caused! her to feel a strong interest in anything that might concern the + future interest of her daughter; “can you tell us nothing about his + appearance, that we might give a guess at him?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied M'Gowan, for such was the prophet's name, “not to you; to + none but herself can I give the marks an' tokens that will enable her to + know the man that is to be her husband when she sees him; and to herself, + in the mornin', I will, before I go that is if she'll allow me—for + what is written in the dark book ought to be read and expounded. Her + beauty an' her goodness will do it all!” + </p> + <p> + The man's words were uttered m a voice so replete with those soft and + insinuating tones that so powerfully operate upon the female heart; they + breathed, too such an earnest spirit of good will, joined to an evident + admiration of the beauty and goodness he alluded to, that the innocent + girl, not-withstanding her previous aversion, felt something like + gratification at what he said, not on account ol the prospects held out to + her, but because of the singular charm and affectionate spirit which + breathed in his voice; or, might it not have been that delicate influence + of successful flattery which so gently pervades the heart of woman, and + soothes that vanity which unconsciously lurks in the very purest and most + innocent of the sex? So far from being flattered by his predictions, she + experienced a strong sensation of disappointment, because she knew where + her affections at that moment rested, and felt persuaded that if she were + destined to enjoy the grandeur shadowed out for her, it never could be + with him whom she then loved. Notwithstanding all this, she felt her + repugnance against the prophet strongly counterbalanced by the strange + influence he began to exercise over her; and with this impression she and + they passed to the kitchen, where in a few minutes she was engaged in + preparing food for him, with a degree of good feeling that surprised + herself. + </p> + <p> + There is scarcely anything so painful to hearts naturally generous, like + those of the Sullivans, as the contest between the shame and exposure of + the conscious poverty on the one hand, and the anxiety to indulge in a + hospitable spirit on the other. Nobody unacquainted with Ireland could + properly understand the distress of mind which this conflict almost + uniformly produces. On the present occasion it was deeply felt by this + respectable but declining family, and Mave, the ingenuous and kind-hearted + girl, felt much of her unaccountable horror of this man removed by its + painful exercise. Still her aversion was not wholly overcome, although + much diminished; for, ever as she looked at his swollen and disfigured + face, and thought of the mysterious motions of the murdered man's coat, + she could not avoid turning away her eyes, and wishing that she had not + seen him that evening. The scanty meal was at length over; a meal on which + many a young eye dwelt with those yearning looks that take their character + from the hungry and wolfish spirit which marks the existence of a “hard + year,” as it is called in our unfortunate country, and which, to a + benevolent heart, forms such a sorrowful subject for contemplation. Poor + Bridget Sullivan did all in her power to prevent this evident longing from + being observed by M'Gowan, by looking significantly, shaking' her head, + and knitting her brows, at the children; and when these failed she had + recourse to threatening attitudes, and all kinds of violent gestures: and + on these proving also unsuccessful, she was absolutely forced to speak + aloud— + </p> + <p> + “Come, childhre, start out now, an' play yourselves; be off, I say, an' + don't stand ready to jump down the daicent man's throat wid every bit he + aits.” + </p> + <p> + She then drove them abroad somewhere, but as the rain fell heavily the + poor creatures were again forced to return, and resume their pitiable + watch until the two men had finished their scanty repast. + </p> + <p> + Seated around the dull and uncomfortable fire, the whole family now forgot + the hunger and care for a time, in the wild legends with which M'Gowan + entertained them, until the hour of rest. + </p> + <p> + “We haven't the best bed in the world,” observed Sullivan, “nor the best + bed-clothes aither, but, as I said before, I wish, for all our sakes, they + were betther. You must take your chance with these two slips o' boys + to-night as well as you can. If you wish to tumble in now you may; or, may + be you'd join us in our prayers. We sthrive, God! help us, to say a Rosary + every night; for, afther all, there's nothin' like puttin' oneself! undher + the holy protection of the Almighty, blessed be His name! Indeed, this + sickness that's goin' is so rife and dangerous that it's good to sthrive + to be prepared, as it is indeed, whatever comes, whether hunger or plenty, + sickness or health; an' may God keep us prepared always!” + </p> + <p> + M'Gowan seemed for a moment at a loss, but almost immediately said in + reply— + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Jerry, but as for me, I say whatever prayers I do say, + always by myself; for I can then get my mind fixed upon them betther. I'll + just turn into bed, then, for troth I feel a little stiff and tired; so + you must only let me have my own way to-night. To-morrow night I'll pray + double.” He then withdrew to his appointed place of rest, where, after + having partially undressed himself, he lay down, and for some time could + hear no other sound than the solemn voices of this struggling and + afflicted little fold, as they united in offering up their pious and + simple act of worship to that Great Being, in whose providential care they + felt such humble and confiding trust. + </p> + <p> + When their devotions were concluded, they quietly, and in a spirit at once + of resignation and melancholy, repaired to their respective sleeping + places, with the exception of old Sullivan himself, who, after some + hesitation, took down the great coat already so markedly alluded to—and + exclaiming, partly to those within hearing— + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—but still there can't be any harm in it; sure it's + betther that it should be doin' some good than hangin' up there idle, + against the wall, such a night as this. Here, Dan, for the first time + since I put it up wid my own hands, except to shake the dust off of it, + I'm goin' to turn this big coat to some use. There,” he added, spreading + it over them; “let it help to keep you warm to-night—for God knows, + you want it, you an' them poor gorsoons. Your coverin' is but light, an' + you may hear the downpowrin' of rain that's in it; an' the wind, too, is + risin' fast, every minute—gettin' so strong, indeed, that I doubt it + 'ill be a storm before it stops; an' Dan, if it 'udn't be too much, may be + you'd not object to offer up one pather an' avy for the poor sowl of him + that owned it, an' that was brought to his account so suddenly and so + terribly. There,” he added, fixing it upon them; “it helps to keep you + warm at any rate; an' it's surely betther to have it so employed than + hangin' idle, as I said, against the wall.” + </p> + <p> + M'Gowan immediately sat up in the bed, and putting down his hands, removed + the coat. + </p> + <p> + “We don't want it at all,” he replied; “take it away, Jerry—do, for + heaven's sake. The night's not at all so cowld as you think, an' we'll + keep one another warm enough wid-out it, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth you do want it,” said Sullivan; “for fareer gair, it's the light + coverin' that's over you an' them, poor boys. Heighho, Dan, see what + innocence is—poor things, they're sound already—an' may God + pity them an' provide for them, or enable me to do it!” And as he looked + down upon the sleeping lads, the tears came so abundantly to his eyes, + that he was forced to wipe them away. “Keep the coat, Dan,” he added; “you + do want it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the other. “The truth is, I couldn't sleep under it. I'm + very timersome, an' a little thing frightens me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Sullivan, “I didn't think of that: in troth, if you're + timersome, it's more than the world b'lieves of you. Well, well—I'll + hang it up again; so good night, an' a sound sleep to you, an' to every + man that has a free conscience in the sight of God!” + </p> + <p> + No response was given to this prayer, and his words were followed by a + deep and solemn silence, that was only broken occasionally by the heavy + pattering of the descending rain, and the fitful gusts of the blast, as + they rushed against the house, and sung wildly among the few trees by + which it and the garden were enclosed. + </p> + <p> + Every one knows that a night of wind and storm, if not rising actually to + a tempest or hurricane, is precisely that on which sleep is with its + deepest influence upon men. Sullivan's family, on that which we are + describing, were a proof of this; at least until about the hour of three + o'clock, when they were startled by a cry for help, so loud and frightful, + that in a moment he and the boys huddled on their dress, and hurried to + the bed in which the prophet lay. In a minute or two they got a candle + lit; and truly the appearance of the man was calculated to drive fear and + alarm into their hearts. They found him sitting in the bed, with his eyes + so wild and staring that they seemed straining out of their sockets. His + hair was erect, and his mouth half open, and drawn back; while the + perspiration poured from him in torrents. His hands were spread, and held + up, with their palms outwards, as if in the act of pushing something back + that seemed to approach him. “Help,” he shouted, “he is comin' on me—he + will have me powerless in a minute. He is gaspin' now, as he—Stay + back, stay back—here—here, help; it's the murdhered man—he's + upon me. Oh!—Oh, God! he's comin' nearer and nearer. Help me—save + me!” + </p> + <p> + Sullivan on holding the candle to his face, perceived that he was still + asleep; and suspecting the nature of his dream, he awoke him at once. On + seeing a portion of the family about him, he started again, and looked for + a moment so completely aghast that he resembled horror personified. + </p> + <p> + “Who—what—what are you? Oh,” he exclaimed, recovering, and + striving to compose himself, “ha—Good God! what a frightful drame I + had. I thought I was murdherin' a man; murdherin' the”—he paused, + and stared wildly about him. + </p> + <p> + “Murdherin' who?” asked Jerry. + </p> + <p> + “Murdherin'! eh—ha—why, who talks about murdherin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Compose yourself,” added Sullivan; “you did; but you're frightened. You + say you thought you were murdherin' some one; who was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yesr” he replied; “it was myself. I thought the murdhered man was—I + mean, that the man was murdherin' myself.” And he looked with a terrible + shudder of fear towards the great coat. + </p> + <p> + “Hut,” said Sullivan, “it was only a drame; compose yourself; why should + you be alarmed?—your hand is free of it. So, as I said, compose + yourself; put your trust in God, an' recommend yourself to his care.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a terrible drame,” said the other, once more shuddering; “but then + it was a drame. Good God; yes! However, I ax pardon for disturbin' you + all, an' breaking in upon your sleep. Go to bed now; I'm well enough; only + jist set that bit of candle by the bed-side for awhile, till I recover, + for I did get a fearful fright.” + </p> + <p> + He then laid himself down once more, and having wiped the perspiration + from his forehead, which was now cadaverous, he bade them good night, and + again endeavored to compose himself to rest. In this he eventually + succeeded, the candle burning itself out; and in about three-quarters of + an hour the whole family were once more wrapped in sound and uninterrupted + repose. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the Sullivan family rose to witness another weary and + dismal day of incessant rain, and to partake of a breakfast of thin + stirabout, made and served up with that woful ingenuity, which necessity, + the mother of invention in periods of scarcity, as well as in matters of a + different character, had made known to the benevolent hearted wife of + Jerry Sullivan. That is to say, the victuals were made so unsubstantially + thin, that in order to impose, if possible, on the appetite, it was deemed + necessary to deceive the eye by turning the plates and dishes round and + round several times, while the viands were hot, so as by spreading them + over a larger surface, to give the appearance of a greater quantity. It + is, heaven knows, a melancholy cheat, but one with which the periodical + famines of our unhappy country have made our people too well acquainted. + Previous, however, to breakfast, the prophet had a private interview with + Mave, or the <i>Gra Gal</i>, as she was generally termed to denote her + beauty and extraordinary power of conciliating affection; <i>Gra Gal</i> + signifying the fair love, or to give the more comprehensive meaning which + it implied, the fair-haired beauty whom all love, or who wins all love. + This interview lasted, at least, a quarter of an hour, or it might be + twenty minutes, but as the object of it did not then transpire, we can + only explain the appearances which followed it, so far at least, as the + parties themselves were concerned. The <i>Gra Gal</i>, as we shall + occasionally call her, seemed pleased, if not absolutely gratified, by the + conversation that passed between them. Her eye was elated, and she moved + about like one who appeared to have been relieved from some reflection + that had embarrassed and depressed her; still it might have been observed + that this sense of relief had nothing in it directly affecting the person + of the prophet himself, on whom her eyes fell from time to time with a + glance that changed its whole expression of satisfaction to one of pain + and dislike. On his part there also appeared a calm sedate feeling of + satisfaction, under which, however, an eye better acquainted with human + nature might easily detect a triumph. He looked, to those who could + properly understand him, precisely as an able diplomatist would who had + succeeded in gaining a point. + </p> + <p> + When breakfast was over, and previous to his departure, he brought Jerry + Sullivan and his wife out to the barn, and in a tone and manner of much + mystery, assuming at the same time that figurative and inflated style so + peculiar to him, and also to his rival the Senachie, he thus addressed + them— + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said he, “listen, Jerry Sullivan, and Bridget, his wife; a child + was born, and a page was written—the moon saw it, and the stars saw + it; but the sun did not, for he is dark to fate an' sees nothing but the + face of nature. Do you understand that, Jerry Sullivan, an' you Bridget, + his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, troth we can't say we do yet, at all events,” they replied; “but + how could we, ye know, if it's regardin' prophecy you're spakin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Undherstand it!” he replied, contemptuously, “you undherstand it!—no + nor Father Philemy Corcoran himself couldn't undherstand it, barrin' he + fasted and prayed, and refrained from liquor, for that's the way to get + the ray o' knowledge; at laist it's, the way I got it first—however, + let that pass. As I was sayin' a child was born and a page was written—and + an angel from heaven was sent to Nebbychodanazor, the prophet, who was + commanded to write. What will I write? says Nebbychodanazor, the prophet. + Write down the fate of a faymale child, by name Mave Sullivan, daughter to + Jerry Sullivan and his wife Bridget, of Aughnmurrin. Amin, says the + prophet; fate is fate, what's before is not behind, neither is what's + behind before, and every thing will come to pass that's to happen. Amin, + agin, says the prophet, an' what am I to write? Grandeur an' wealth—up + stairs and down stairs—silks-an' satins—an inside car—bracelets, + earrings, and Spanish boots, made of Morroccy leather, tanned at Cordovan. + Amin, agin, says Nebbychodanazor, the prophet; this is not that, neither + is that the other, but every is everything—naither can something be + nothing, nor nothing something, to the end of time; and time itself is but + cousin jarmin to eternity—as is recorded in the great book of fate, + fortune and fatality. Write again, says the angel. What am I to write? At + the name of Mabel Sullivan place along wid all the rest, two great + paragons of a woman's life, Marriage and Prosperity—write marriage + happy, and prosperity numerous—and so the child's born, an' the page + written—beauty and goodness, a happy father, and a proud mother—both + made wealthy through her means.” + </p> + <p> + “And so,” he proceeded, dropping the recitative, and resuming his natural + voice— + </p> + <p> + “Be kind and indulgent to your daughter, for she'll yet live to make all + your fortunes. Take care of her and yourself till I sees yez again.” + </p> + <p> + And without adding another word he departed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — A Dance, and Double Discovery. + </h2> + <p> + The dance to which Sarah M'Gowan went after the conflict with her + step-mother, was but a miserable specimen of what a dance usually is in + Ireland. On that occasion, there were but comparatively few assembled; and + these few, as may be guessed, consisted chiefly of those gay and + frolicsome spirits whom no pressure of distress, nor anything short of + sickness or death, could sober down into seriousness. The meeting, in + fact, exhibited a painful union of mirth and melancholy. The season + brought with it none of that relief to the peasantry which usually makes + autumn so welcome. On the contrary, the failure of the potato crop, + especially in its quality, as well as that in the grain generally, was not + only the cause of hunger and distress, but also of the sickness which + prevailed. The poor were forced, as they too often are, to dig their + potatoes before they were fit for food; and the consequences were + disastrous to themselves in every sense. Sickness soon began to appear; + but then it was supposed that as soon as the new grain came in, relief + would follow. In this expectation, however, they were, alas! most wofully + disappointed. The wetness of the summer and autumn had soured and + fermented the grain so lamentably, that the use of it transformed the + sickness occasioned by the unripe and bad potatoes into a terrible and + desolating epidemic. At the period we are treating of, this awful scourge + had just set in, and was beginning to carry death and misery in all their + horrors throughout the country. It was no wonder, then, that, at the dance + we are describing, there was an almost complete absence of that cheerful + and light-hearted enjoyment which is, or at least which was, to be found + at such meetings. It was, besides, owing to the severity of the evening, + but thinly attended. Such a family had two or three members of it sick; + another had buried a fine young woman; a third, an only son; a fourth, had + lost the father, and the fifth, the mother of a large family. In fact, the + conversation on this occasion was rather a catalogue of calamity and + death, than that hearty ebullition of animal spirits which throws its + laughing and festive spirits into such assemblies. Two there were, + however, who, despite of the gloom which darkened both the dance and the + day, contrived to sustain our national reputation for gayety and mirth. + One of these was our friend, Sarah, or, as she was better known, Sally + M'Gowan, and the other a young fellow named Charley Hanlon, who acted as a + kind of gardener and steward to Dick o' the Grange. This young fellow + possessed great cheerfulness, and such an everlasting fund of mirth and + jocularity, as made him the life and soul of every dance, wake, and + merry-meeting in the parish. He was quite a Lothario in his sphere—a + lady-killer—and so general an admirer of the sex, that he invariably + made I love to every pretty girl he met, or could lure into conversation. + The usual consequences followed. Nobody was such a favorite with the sex + in general, who were ready to tear each other's caps about him, as they + sometimes actually did; and indeed this is not at all to be wondered at. + The fellow was one of the most open, hardy liars that ever lived. Of shame + he had heard; but of what it meant, no earthly eloquence could give him + the slightest perception; and we need scarcely add, that his assurance was + boundless, as were his powers of flattery. It is unnecessary to say, then, + that a man so admirably calculated to succeed with the sex, was properly + appreciated by them, and that his falsehood, flattery, and assurance were + virtues which enshrined the vagabond in their hearts. In short, he had got + the character of being a rake; and he was necessarily obliged to suffer + the agreeable penalty of their admiration and favor in consequence. The + fellow besides, was by no means ill-looking, nor ill-made, but just had + enough of that kind of face and figure which no one can readily either + find fault with or praise. + </p> + <p> + This gallant and Sally M'Gowan, were in fact, the life of the meeting; and + Sally, besides, had the reputation of being a great favorite with him—a + circumstance which considerably diminished her popularity with her own + sex. She herself felt towards him that kind of wild, indomitable + affection, which is as vehement as it is unregulated in such minds as + hers. For instance, she made no secret of her attachment to him, but on + the contrary, gloried in it, even to her father, who, on this subject, + could exercise no restraint whatsoever over her. It is not our intention + to entertain our readers with the history of the occurrences which took + place at the dance, as they are, in fact, not worth recording. Hanlon, at + its close, prepared to see Sally home, as is usual. + </p> + <p> + “You may come with me near home,” she replied; “but I'm not goin' home + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where the dickens are you goin' then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To Barny Gorrnly's wake; there 'ill be lots of fun there, too,” she + replied. “But come—you can come wid me as far as the turn-up to the + house; for I won't go in, nor go home neither, till afther the berril, + tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” said he, rather gravely, “the Grey Stone that's at the + mouth of the Black Glen?” + </p> + <p> + “I ought,” said she; “sure that's where the carman was found murdhered.” + </p> + <p> + “The same,” added Hanlon. “Well, I must go that far to-night,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “And that's jist where I turn off to the Gormly's.” + </p> + <p> + “So far, then, we'll be together,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “But why that far only, Charley—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what you could never guess,” said he, “and very few else aither; + but go I must, an' go I will. At all events, I'll be company for you in + passin' it. Are you never afeard at night, as you go near it?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a taste,” she replied; “what 'ud I be afeard of? my father laughs + at sich things; although,” she added, musing, “I think he's sometimes + timorous for all that. But I know he's often out at all hours, and he says + he doesn't care about ghosts—I know I don't.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation now flagged a little, and Hanlon, who had been all the + preceding part of the evening full of mirth and levity, could scarcely + force himself to reply to her observations, or sustain any part in the + dialogue. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what the sorra's comin' over you?” she asked, as they began to enter + into the shadow of the hill at whose foot her father's cabin stood, and + which here, for about two hundred yards, fell across the road. “It is + gettin' afeard you are?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied; “but I was given to undherstand last night, that if I'd + come this night to the Grey Stone, I'd find out a saicret that I'd give a + great deal to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she replied, we'll see that; an' now, raise your spirits. + Here we're in the moonlight, thank goodness, such as it is. Dear me, thin, + but it's an awful night, and the wind's risin'; and listen to the flood, + how it roars in the glen below, like a thousand bulls!” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” he replied; “but hould your tongue now for a little, and as + you're here stop wid me for a while, although I don't see how I'm likely + to come by much knowledge in sich a place as this.” + </p> + <p> + They now approached the Grey Stone, and as they did the moon came out a + little from her dark shrine of clouds, but merely with that dim and feeble + light which was calculated to add ghastliness and horror to the wildness + and desolation of the place. + </p> + <p> + Sally could now observe that her companion was exceedingly pale and + agitated, his voice, as he spoke, became disturbed and infirm; and as he + laid his hand upon the Grey Stone he immediately withdrew it, and taking + off his hat he blessed himself, and muttered a short prayer with an + earnestness and solemnity for which she could not account. Having + concluded it, both stood in silence for a short time, he awaiting the + promised information—for which on this occasion he appeared likely + to wait in vain;—and she without any particular purpose beyond her + natural curiosity to watch and know the event. + </p> + <p> + The place at that moment was, indeed, a lonely one, and it was by no means + surprising that, apart from the occurrence of two murders, one on, and the + other near, the spot where they stood, the neighboring peasantry should + feel great reluctance in passing it at night. The light of the moon was + just sufficient to expose the natural wildness of the adjacent scenery. + The glen itself lay in the shadow of the hill, and seemed to the eye so + dark that nothing but the huge outlines of the projecting crags, whose + shapes appeared in the indistinctness like gigantic spectres, could been + seen; while all around, and where the pale light of! the moon fell, + nothing was visible but the muddy gleams of the yellow flood as it rushed, + with its hoarse and incessant roar, through a flat country on whose + features the storm and the hour had impressed a character of gloom, and + the most dismal desolation. Nay, the still appearance of the Grey Stone, + or rock, at which they stood, had, when contrasted with the moving + elements about them, and associated with the murder committed at its very + foot, a solemn appearance that was of itself calculated to fill the mind + with awe and terror. Hanlon felt this, as, indeed, his whole manner + indicated. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said his companion, alluding to the short prayer he had just + concluded, “I didn't expect to see you at your prayers like a voteen this + night at any rate. Is it fear that makes you so pious upon our hands? + Troth, I doubt there's a white feather,—a cowardly dhrop—in + you, still an' all.” + </p> + <p> + “If you can be one minute serious, Sally, do, I beg of you. I am very much + disturbed, I acknowledge, an' so would you, mabe, if you knew as much as I + do.” + </p> + <p> + “You're the color of death,” she replied putting her fingers upon his + cheek; “—an, my God! is it paspiration I feel such a night as this? + I declare to goodness it is. Give me the white pocket-handkerchy that you + say Peggy Murray gave you. Where is it?” she proceeded, taking it out of + his pocket. “Ah, ay, I have it; stoop a little; take care of your hat; + here now,” and while speaking she wiped the cold perspiration from his + forehead. “Is this the one she made you a present of, an' put the letthers + on?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” he replied, “the very same—but she didn't make me a present + of it, she only hemmed it for me.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a lie of you,” she replied, fiercely; “she bought it for you out + of her own pocket. I know that much. She tould Kate Duffy so herself, and + boasted of it: but wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Hanlon, anxious to keep down the gust of jealousy which he + saw rising, “and if she did, how could I prevent her?” + </p> + <p> + “What letthers did she put on it?” + </p> + <p> + “P. and an M.,” he replied, “the two first letthers of my name.” + </p> + <p> + “That's another lie,” she exclaimed; “they're not the two first letthers + of your name, but of her own; there's no M in Hanlon. At any rate, unless + you give the same handkerchy to me, I'll make it be a black business to + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep it, keep it, wid all my heart,” he replied, glad to get rid of a + topic which at that moment came on him so powerfully and unseasonably. “Do + what you like wid it.” + </p> + <p> + “You say so willingly, now—do you?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do; an' you may tell the whole world that I said so, if you + like.” + </p> + <p> + “P. M.—oh, ay, that's for Peggy Murray—maybe the letthers I + saw on the ould tobaccy-box I found in the hole of the wall to-day were + for Peggy Murray. Ha! ha! ha! Oh, may be I won't have a brag over her!” + </p> + <p> + “What letthers?” asked Hanlon eagerly; “a tobaccy-box, did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay did I—a tobaccy-box. I found it in a hole in the wall in our + house to-day; it tumbled out while I was gettin' some cobwebs to stop a + bleedin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it a good one?” asked Hanlon, with apparent carelessness, “could one + use it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly; but no, it's all rusty, an' has but one hinge.” + </p> + <p> + “But one hinge!” repeated the other, who was almost breathless with + anxiety; “an' the letthers—what's this you say they wor?” + </p> + <p> + “The very same that's on your handkerchy,” she replied—“a P. an' an + M.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” he exclaimed, “is this possible! Heavens! What is that? Did + you hear anything?” + </p> + <p> + “What ails you?” she enquired. “Why do you look so frightened?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear nothing?” he again asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha!—hear!” she replied, laughing—“hear; I thought I heard + something like a groan; but sure 'tis only the wind. Lord! what a night! + Listen how the wind an' storm growls an' tyrannizes and rages down in the + glen there, an' about the hills. Faith there'll be many a house stripped + this night. Why, what ails you? Afther all, you're but a hen-hearted + divil, I doubt; sorra thing else.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon made her no reply, but took his hat off, and once more offered up a + short prayer, apparently in deep and most extraordinary excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she observed, after he had concluded, “that you're bent on your + devotions this night; and the devil's own place you've pitched upon for + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” replied Hanlon, “I'll be biddin' you good-night; but before + you go, promise to get me that tobaccy-box you found; it's the least you + may give it to me for Peggy Murray's handkerchy.” + </p> + <p> + “Hut,” returned Sally, “it's not worth a thraneen; you couldn't use it + even if you had it; sure it's both rusty and broken.” + </p> + <p> + “No matther for that,” he replied; “I want to play a thrick on Peggy + Murray wid it, so as to have a good laugh against her—the pair of us—you + wid the handkerchy, and me wid the tobaccy-box.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she replied. “Ha! ha! ha!—that'll be great. At any + rate, I've a crow to pluck wid the same Peggy Murray. Oh, never you fear, + you must have it; the minnit I get my hands on it, I'll secure it for + you.” After a few words more of idle chat they separated; he to his + master's house, which was a considerable distance off; and this + extraordinary creature—unconscious of the terrors and other + weaknesses that render her sex at once so dependent on and so dear to man—full + only of delight at the expected glee of the wake—to the house of + death where it was held. + </p> + <p> + In the country parts of Ireland it is not unusual for those who come to a + wake-house from a distance, to remain there until the funeral takes place: + and this also is frequently the case with the nearest door neighbors. + There is generally a solemn hospitality observed on the occasion, of which + the two classes I mention partake. Sally's absence, therefore, on that + night, or for the greater portion of the next day, excited neither alarm + nor surprise at home. On entering their miserable sheiling, she found her + father, who had just returned, and her step-mother in high words; the + cause of which, she soon learned, had originated in his account of the + interview between young Dalton and Mave Sullivan, together with its + unpleasant consequences to himself. + </p> + <p> + “What else could you expect,” said his wife, “but what you got? You're + ever an' always too ready wid your divil's grin an' your black prophecy to + thim you don't like. I wondher you're not afeard that some of them might + come back to yourself, an' fall upon your own head. If ever a man tempted + Providence you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear me!” he exclaimed, with a derisive sneer, rendered doubly + repulsive by his own hideous and disfigured face, “how pious we are! + Providence, indeed! Much I care about Providence, you hardened jade, or + you aither, whatever puts the word into your purty mouth. Providence! oh, + how much we regard it, as if Providence took heed of what we do. Go an' + get me somethin' to put to this swellin', you had betther; or if it's + goin' to grow religious you are, be off out o' this; we'll have none of + your cant or pishthrougues here.” + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” inquired Sarah, seating; herself on a three legged stool, + “the ould work, is it? bell-cat, bell-dog. Ah, you're a blessed pair an' a + purty pair, too; you, wid your swelled face an' blinkin' eye. Arrah, what + dacent man gave you that? An' you,” she added, turning to her step-mother, + “wid your cheeks poulticed, an' your eye blinkin' on the other side—what + a pair o' beauties you are, ha! ha! ha! I wouldn't be surprised if the + divil an' his mother fell in consate wid you both!—ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your manners, afther spendin' the night away wid yourself?” asked + her father, angrily. “Instead of stealin' into the house thremblin' wid + fear, as you ought to be, you walk in wid your brazen face, ballyraggin' + us like a Hecthor.” + </p> + <p> + “Devil a taste I'm afeard,” she replied, sturdily; “I did nothin' to be + afeard or ashamed of, an' why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see Mr. Hanlon on your travels, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't say eh about it,” she replied, “to be sure I did; it was to + meet him that I went to the dance; I have no saicrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you'll come to a good end yet, I doubt,” said her father. + </p> + <p> + “Sure she needn't be afeard of Providence, any how,” observed his wife. + </p> + <p> + “To the divil wid you, at all events,” he replied; “if you're not off out + o' that to get me somethin' for this swellin' I'll make it worse for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, I'll go,” looking at him with peculiar bitterness, “an wid the + help of the same Providence that you laugh at, I'll take care that the + same roof won't cover the three of us long. I'm tired of this life, and + come or go what may, I'll look to my sowl an' lead it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mane to break our hearts?” he replied, laughing; “for sure we + couldn't do less afther her, Sally; eh, ha! ha! ha! Before you lave us, + anyhow,” he added, “go and get me some Gaiharrawan roots to bring down + this swellin'; I can't go to the Grange wid sich a face as this on me.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have a blacker an' a worse one on the day of judgment,” replied + Nelly, taking up an old spade as she spoke, and proceeding to look for the + Casharrawan (Dandelion) roots he wanted. + </p> + <p> + When she had gone, the prophet, assuming that peculiar sweetness of + manner, for which he was so remarkable when it suited his purpose, turned + to his daughter, and putting his hand into his waistcoat pocket, pulled + out a tress of fair hair, whose shade and silky softness were exquisitely + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that,” said he, “isn't that pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Show,” she replied, and taking the tress into her hand, she looked at it. + </p> + <p> + “It is lovely; but isn't that aquil to it?” she continued, letting loose + her own of raven black and equal gloss and softness—“what can it + brag over that? eh,” and as she compared them her black eye flashed, and + her cheek assumed a rich glow of pride and conscious beauty, that made her + look just such a being as an old Grecian statuary would have wished to + model from. + </p> + <p> + “It is aiquil to hers any day,” replied her father, softening into + affection as he contemplated her; “and indeed, Sally, I think you're her + match every way except—except—no matter, troth are you.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do wid it?” she asked; “is it to the Grange it's + goin'?” + </p> + <p> + “It is an' I want you to help me in what I mentioned to you. If I get what + I'm promised, we'll lave the country, you and I, and as for that ould + vagabond, we'll pitch her to ould Nick. She's talking about devotion and + has nothing but Providence in her lips.” + </p> + <p> + “But isn't there a Providence?” asked his daughter, with a sparkling eye. + </p> + <p> + “Devil a much myself knows or cares,” he replied, with indifference, + “whether there is or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Bekase if there is,” she said, pausing—“if there is, one might as + well—” + </p> + <p> + She paused again and her fine features assumed an intellectual meaning—a + sorrowful and meditative beauty, that gave a new and more attractive + expression to her face than her father had ever witnessed on it before. + </p> + <p> + “Don't vex me, Sarah,” he replied, snappishly. “Maybe it's goin' to + imitate her you are. The clargy knows these things maybe—an' maybe + they don't. I only wish she'd come back with the caaharrawan. If all goes + right, I'll pocket what'll bring yourself an' me to America. I'm beginnin' + somehow to get unaisy; an' I don't wish to stay in this country any + longer.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst he spoke, the sparkling and beautiful expression which had lit up + his daughter's countenance passed away, and with it probably the moment in + which it was possible to have opened a new and higher destiny to her + existence. + </p> + <p> + Nelly, in the meantime, having taken an old spade with her to dig the + roots she went in quest of, turned up Glendhu, and kept searching for some + time in vain, until at length she found two or three bunches of the herb + growing in a little lonely nook that lay behind a projecting ledge of + rock, where one would seldom think of looking for herbage at all. Here she + found a little, soft, green spot, covered over with dandelion; and + immediately she began to dig it up. The softness of the earth and its + looseness surprised her a good deal; and moved by an unaccountable + curiosity, she pushed the spade further down, until it was met by some + substance that felt rather hard. From this she cleared away the earth as + well as she could, and discovered that the spade had been opposed by a + bone; and on proceeding to examine still further, she discovered that the + spot on which the dandelions had grown, contained the bones of a full + grown human body. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — The Black Prophet is Startled by a Black Prophecy. + </h2> + <p> + Having satisfied herself that the skeleton was a human one, she cautiously + put back the earth, and covered it up with the green sward, as graves + usually are covered, and in such a way that there should exist, from the + undisturbed appearance of the place, as little risk as possible of + discovery. This being-settled, she returned with the herbs, laying aside + the spade, from off which she had previously rubbed the red earth, so as + to prevent any particular observation; she sat down, and locking her + fingers into each other, swayed her body backwards and forwards in + silence, as a female does in Ireland when under the influence of deep and + absorbing sorrow, whilst from time to time she fixed her eyes on the + prophet, and sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said he, “I sent you for the dandelion; where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she replied, unrolling it from the corner of her apron, “here it is—I + forgot it—ay, I forgot it—and no wondher—oh, no wondher, + indeed!—Providence! You may blaspheme Providence as much as you + like; but he'll take his own out o' you yet; an' indeed, it's comin' to + that—it is, Donnel, an' you'll find it so.” + </p> + <p> + The man had just taken the herbs into his hand and was about to shred them + into small leaves for the poultice, when she uttered the last words. He + turned his eyes upon her; and in an instant that terrible scowl, for which + he was so remarkable, when in a state of passion, gave its deep and deadly + darkness to his already disfigured visage. His eyes blazed, and one half + of his face became ghastly with rage. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mane?” he asked; “what does she mane, Sarah? I tell you, + wanst for all, you must give up ringing Providence into my ears, unless + you wish to bring my hand upon you, as you often did! mark that!” + </p> + <p> + “Your ears,” she replied, looking at him calmly, and without seeming to + regard his threat; “oh, I only wish I could ring the fear of Providence + into your heart—I wish I I could; I'll do for yourself what you + often pretend to do for others: but I'll give you warnin'. I tell you now, + that Providence: himself is on your track—that his judgment's + hangin' over you—and that it'll fall upon! you before long. This is + my prophecy, and; a black one you'll soon find it.” + </p> + <p> + That Nelly had been always a woman of some good nature, with gleams of + feeling and humanity appearing in a character otherwise apathetic, hard, + and dark, M'Gowan well knew; but that she was capable of bearding him in + one of his worst and most ferocious moods, was a circumstance which amazed + and absolutely overcame him. Whether it was the novelty or the moral + elevation of the position she so unexpectedly assumed, or some lurking + conviction within himself which echoed back the truth of her language, it + is difficult to say. Be that, however, as it might, he absolutely quailed + before her; and instead of giving way to headlong violence or outrage, he + sat down, and merely looked on her in silence and amazement. + </p> + <p> + Sarah thought he was unnecessarily tame on the occasion, and that her + prophecy ought not to have been listened to in silence. The utter absence + of all fear, however, on the part of the elder female, joined to the + extraordinary union of determination and indifference with which she + spoke, had something morally impressive in it; and Sarah, who felt, + besides, that there seemed a kind of mystery in the words of the + denunciation, resolved to let the matter rest between them, at least for + the present. + </p> + <p> + A silence of some time now ensued, during which she looked from the one to + the other with an aspect of uncertainty. At length, she burst into a + hearty laugh— + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha!—well,” said she, “it's a good joke at any rate to see + my father bate with his own weapons. Why, she has frightened you more wid + her prophecy than ever you did any one wid one of your own. Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + To this Sally neither replied, nor seemed disposed to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” added Sarah, handing her stepmother a cloth, “remimber you have to + go to Darby Skinadre's for meal. I'd go myself, an' save you in the + journey, but that I'm afraid you might fall in love wid one another in my + absence. Be off now, you ould stepdivle, an' get the meal; or if you're + not able to go, I will.” + </p> + <p> + After a lapse of a few minutes, the woman rose, and taking the cloth, + deliberately folded it up, and asked him for money to purchase the meal + she wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said he, handing her a written paper, “give him that, an' it will + do as well as money. He expects Master Dick's interest for Dalton's farm, + an' I'll engage he'll attend to that.” + </p> + <p> + She received the paper, and looking at it, said— + </p> + <p> + “I hope this is none of the villainy I suspect.” + </p> + <p> + “Be off,” he replied, “get what you want, and that's all you have to do.” + </p> + <p> + “What's come over you?” asked Sarah of her father, after the other had + gone. “Did you get afeard of her?” + </p> + <p> + “There's something in her eye,” he replied, “that I don't like, and that I + never seen there before.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” returned the other, a good deal surprised, “what can there be in + her eye that you need care about? You have nobody's blood on your hands, + an' you stole nothing. What made you look afeard that time?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't look afeard.” + </p> + <p> + “But I say you did, an' I was ashamed of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind—I may tell you something some o' these days about + that same woman. In the meantime, I'll throw myself on the bed, an' take a + sleep, for I slept but little last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so,” replied Sarah; “but at any rate, never be cowed by a woman. Lie + down, an' I'll go over awhile to Tom Cassidy's. But first, I had better + make the poultice for your face, to take down the ugly swellin'.” + </p> + <p> + Having made and applied the poultice, she went off, light-hearted as a + lark, leaving her worthy father to seek some rest if he could. + </p> + <p> + She had no sooner disappeared than the prophet, having closed and bolted + the door, walked backwards and forwards, in a moody and unsettled manner. + </p> + <p> + “What,” he exclaimed to himself, “can be the matther with that woman, that + made her look at me in sich a way a while agone? I could not mistake her + eye. She surely knows more than I thought, or she would not fix her eye + into mine as she did. Could there be anything in that dhrame about Dalton + an' my coffin? Hut! that's nonsense. Many a dhrame I had that went for + nothin'. The only thing she could stumble on is the Box, an' I don't think + she would be likely to find that out, unless she went to throw down the + house; but, anyhow, it's no harm to thry.” He immediately mounted the old + table, and, stretching up, searched the crevice in the wall where it had + been, but, we need not add, in vain. He then came down again, in a state + of dreadful alarm, and made a general search for it in every hole and + corner visible, after, which his agitation became wild and excessive. + </p> + <p> + “She has got it!” he exclaimed—“she has stumbled on it, aided by the + devil'—an' may she soon be in his clutches!—and it's the only + thing I'm afeard of! But then,” he added, pausing, and getting somewhat + cool—“does she know it might be brought against me, or who owned it? + I don't think she does; but still, where can it be, and what could she + mane by Providence trackin' me out?—an' why did she look as if she: + knew something? Then that dhrame I can't get it out o' my head this whole + day—and the terrible one I had last night, too! But that last is + aisily 'counted for. As it is, I must only wait, and watch her; and if I + find she can be dangerous, why—it'll be worse for her—that's + all!” + </p> + <p> + He then threw himself on the wretched bed, and, despite of his tumultuous + reflections, soon fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — A Rustic Miser and His Establishment + </h2> + <p> + There is to be found in Ireland, and, we presume, in all other countries, + a class of hardened wretches, who look forward to a period of dearth as to + one of great gain and advantage, and who contrive, by exercising the most + heartless and diabolical principles, to make the sickness, famine, and + general desolation which scourge their fellow-creatures, so many sources + of successful extortion and rapacity, and consequently of gain to + themselves. These are Country Misers or Money-lenders, who are remarkable + for keeping meal until the arrival of what is termed a hard year, or a + dear summer, when they sell it out at an enormous or usurious prices, and + who, at all times, and under all circumstances, dispose of it only at + terms dictated by their own griping spirit and the crying necessity of the + unhappy purchasers. + </p> + <p> + The houses and places of such persons are always remarkable for a + character in their owners of hard and severe saving, which at a first + glance has the appearance of that rare virtue in our country, called + frugality—a virtue which, upon a closer inspection, is found to be + nothing with them but selfishness, sharpened up into the most unscrupulous + avarice and penury. + </p> + <p> + About half a mile from the Sullivan's, lived a remarkable man of this + class, named Darby Skinadre. In appearance he was lank and sallow, with a + long, thin, parched looking face, and a miserable crop of yellow beard, + which no one could pronounce as anything else than “a dead failure;” added + to this were two piercing ferret eyes, always sore and with a tear + standing in each, or trickling down his fleshless cheeks; so that, to + persons disposed to judge only by appearances, he looked very like a man + in a state of perpetual repentance for his transgressions, or, what was + still farther from the truth, who felt a most Christian sympathy with the + distresses of the poor. In his house, and about it, there was much, no + doubt, to be commended, for there was much to mark the habits of the + saving man. Everything was neat and clean, not so much from any innate + love of neatness and cleanliness, as because these qualities were + economical in themselves. His ploughs and farming implements were all + snugly laid up, and covered, lest they might be injured by exposure to the + weather; and his house was filled with large chests and wooden hogsheads, + trampled hard with oatmeal, which, as they were never opened unless during + a time of famine, had their joints and crevices festooned by innumerable + mealy-looking cobwebs, which description of ornament extended to the + dresser itself, where they might be seen upon most of the cold-looking + shelves, and those neglected utensils, that in other families are mostly + used for food. His haggard was also remarkable for having in it, + throughout all the year, a remaining stack or two of oats or wheat, or + perhaps one or two large ricks of hay, tanned by the sun of two or three + summers into tawny hue—each or all kept in the hope of a failure and + a famine. + </p> + <p> + In a room from the kitchen, he had a beam, a pair of scales, and a set of + weights, all of which would have been vastly improved by a visit from the + lord-mayor, had our meal-monger lived under the jurisdiction of that civic + gentleman. He was seldom known to use metal weights when disposing of his + property; in lieu of these he always used round stones, which, upon the + principle of the Scottish proverb, that “many a little makes a muckle,” he + must have found a very beneficial mode of transacting business. + </p> + <p> + If anything could add to the iniquity of his principles, as a plausible + but most unscrupulous cheat, it was the hypocritical prostitution of the + sacred name and character of religion to his own fraudulent impositions + upon the poor and the distressed. Outwardly, and to the eye of men, he was + proverbially strict and scrupulous in the observation of its sanctions, + but outrageously severe and unsparing upon all who appeared to be + influenced either by a negligent or worldly spirit, or who omitted the + least tittle of its forms. Religion and its duties, therefore, were + perpetually in his mouth but never with such apparent zeal and sincerity + as when enforcing his most heartless and hypocritical exactions upon the + honest and struggling creatures whom necessity or neglect had driven into + his meshes. + </p> + <p> + Such was Darby Skinadre; and certain we are that the truth of the likeness + we have given of him will be at once recognized by our readers as that of + the roguish hypocrite, whose rapacity is the standing curse of half the + villages of the country, especially during the seasons of distress, or + failure of crops. + </p> + <p> + Skinadre on the day we write of, was reaping a rich harvest from the + miseries of the unhappy people. In a lower room of his house, to the right + of the kitchen as you entered it, he stood over the scales, weighing out + with a dishonest and parsimonious hand, the scanty pittance which poverty + enabled the wretched creatures to purchase from him; and in order to give + them a favorable impression of his piety, and consequently of his justice, + he had placed against the wall a delf crucifix, with a semi-circular + receptacle at the bottom of it for holding holy water This was as much as + to say “how could I cheat you, with the image of our Blessed Redeemer + before my eyes to remind me of my duty, and to teach me, as He did, to + love my fellow-creatures?” And with many of; the simple people, he + actually succeeded in making the impression he wished; for they could not + conceive it possible, that any principle, however rapacious, could drive a + man to the practice of such sacrilegious imposture. + </p> + <p> + There stood Skinadre, like the very Genius of Famine, surrounded by + distress, raggedness, feeble hunger, and tottering disease, in all the + various aspects of pitiable suffering, hopeless desolation, and that agony + of the heart which impresses wildness upon the pale cheek, makes the eye + at once dull and eager, parches the mouth and gives to the voice of misery + tones that are hoarse and hollow. There he stood, striving to blend + consolation with deceit, and in the name of religion and charity + subjecting the helpless wretches to fraud and extortion. Around him was + misery, multiplied into all her most appalling shapes. Fathers of families + were there, who could read in each other's faces too truly the gloom and + anguish that darkened the brow and wrung the heart. The strong man, who + had been not long-before a comfortable farmer, now stood dejected and + apparently broken down, shorn of his strength, without a trace of either + hope or spirit; so wofully shrunk away too, from his superfluous apparel, + that the spectators actually wondered to think that this was the large + man, of such powerful frame, whose feats of strength had so often + heretofore filled them with amazement. But, alas! what will not sickness + and hunger do? There too was the aged man—the grand-sire himself—bent + with a double weight of years and sorrow—without food until that + late hour; forgetting the old pride that never stooped before, and now + coming with, the last feeble argument, to remind the usurer that he and + his father had been schoolfellows and friends, and that although he had + refused to credit his son and afterwards his daughter-in-law, still, for + the sake of old times, and of those who were now no more, he hoped he + would not refuse his gray hairs and tears, and for the sake of the living + God besides, that which would keep his son, and his daughter-in-law, and + his famishing grandchildren, who had not a morsel to put in their mouths, + nor the means of procuring it on earth—if he failed them. + </p> + <p> + And there was the widower, on behalf of his motherless children, coming + with his worn and desolate look of sorrow, almost thankful to God that his + Kathleen was not permitted to witness the many-shaped miseries of this + woful year; and yet experiencing the sharp and bitter reflection that now, + in all their trials—in his poor children's want and sickness—in + their moanings by day and their cries for her by night, they have not the + soft affection of her voice nor the tender touch of her hand to soothe + their pain—nor has he that smile, which was ever his, to solace him + now, nor that faithful heart to soothe him with its affection, or to cast + its sweetness into the bitter cup of affliction. Alas! no; he knows that + her heart will beat for him and them no more; that that eye of love will + never smile upon them again; and so he feels the agony of her loss + superadded to all his other sufferings, and in this state he approaches + the merciless usurer. + </p> + <p> + And the widow—emblem of desolation and dependence—how shall + she meet and battle with the calamities of this fearful season? She out of + whose heart these very calamities draw forth the remembrances of him she + has lost, with such vividness that his past virtues are added to her + present sufferings; and his manly love as a husband—his tenderness + as a parent—his protecting hand and ever kind heart, crush her + solitary spirit by their memory, and drag it down to the utmost depths of + affliction. Oh! bitter reflection!—“if her Owen wore now alive, and + in health, she would not be here; but God took him to Himself, and now + unless he—the miser—has compassion on her, she and her + children—her Owen's children—must lie down and die! If it were + not for their sakes, poor darlings, she would I wish to follow him out of + such a world; but now she and the Almighty are all that they have to look + to, blessed be His name!” + </p> + <p> + Others there were whose presence showed; how far the general destitution + had gone into the heart of society, and visited many whose circumstances + had been looked upon as beyond its reach. The decent farmer, for instance, + whom no one had suspected of distress, made his appearance among them with + an air of cheerfulness that was put on to baffle suspicion. Sometimes he + laughed as if his heart were light, and again expressed a kind of + condescending sympathy with some poor person or other, to whom he spoke + kindly, as a man would do who knew nothing personally of the distress + which he saw about him, but who wished to encourage those who did with the + cheering hope that it must soon pass away. Then affecting the easy manner + of one who was interesting himself for another person, he asked to have + some private conversation with the usurer, to whom he communicated the + immediate want that pressed upon him and his family. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible, however, to describe the various aspects and claims of + misery which presented themselves at Skinadre's house. The poor people + flitted to and fro silently and dejectedly, wasted, feeble, and sickly—sometimes + in small groups of twos and threes, and sometimes a solitary individual + might be seen hastening with earnest but languid speed, as if the life of + some dear child or beloved parent, of a husband or wife, or perhaps, the + lives of a whole farcify, depended upon his or her arrival with food. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — A Panorama of Misery. + </h2> + <p> + Skinadre, thin and mealy, with his coat off, but wearing a waistcoat to + which were attached flannel sleeves, was busily engaged in his agreeable + task of administering to their necessities. Such was his smoothness of + manner, and the singular control which a long life of hypocrisy had given + him over his feelings, that it was impossible to draw any correct + distinction between that which he only assumed, and that which he really + felt. This consequently gave him an immense advantage over every one with + whom he came in contact, especially the artless and candid, and all who + were in the habit of expressing what they thought. We shall, however, take + the liberty of introducing him to the reader, and allow honest Skinadre to + speak for himself. + </p> + <p> + “They're beggars—them three—that woman and her two children; + still my heart bleeds for them, bekase we should love our neighbors as + ourselves; but I have given away as much meal in charity, an' me can so + badly afford it, as would—I can't now, indeed, my poor woman! Sick—troth + they look sick, an' you look sick yourself. Here, Paddy Lenahan, help that + woman an' her two poor children out of that half bushel of meal you've + got; you won't miss a handful for God's sake.” + </p> + <p> + This he said to a poor man who had just purchased some oat-meal from him; + for Skinadre was one of those persons who, however he might have neglected + works of mercy himself, took great delight in encouraging others to + perform them. + </p> + <p> + “Troth it's not at your desire I do it, Darby,” replied the man; “but + bekase she an' they wants it, God help them. Here, poor creature, take + this for the honor of God: an' I'm only sorry, for both our sakes, that I + can't do more.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jemmy Duggan,” proceeded the miser, addressing a new-comer, “what's + the news wid you? They're hard times, Jemmy; we all know that an' feel it + too, and yet we live, most of us, as if there wasn't a God ta punish us.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” replied the man, “we feel what sufferin' is now, God help + us! Between hunger and sickness, the counthry was never in such a state + widin the memory of man, What, in the name o' God, will become of the poor + people, I know not. The Lord pity them an' relieve them!” + </p> + <p> + “Amen, amen, Jemmy! Well, Jemmy, can I do any thing for you? But Jemmy, in + regard to that, the thruth is, we have brought all these scourges on us by + our sins and our transgressions; thim that sins, Jemmy, must suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no one denyin' it, Darby; but you're axin' me can you do any + thing for me, an' my answer to that is, you can, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Jemmy, you wor ever an' always a wild, heedless, heerum-skeerum rake, + that never was likely to do much good; little religion ever rested on you, + an' now I'm afeard no signs on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, who's widout sin? I'm sure I'm not. What I want is, to know + if you'll credit me for a hundred of meal till the times mends a trifle. I + have the six o' them at home widout their dinner this day, an' must go + widout if you refuse me. When the harvest comes round, I'll pay you.” + </p> + <p> + “Jemmy, you owe three half-year's, rent; an' as for the harvest an' what + it'll bring, only jist look at the day that's in it. It goes to my heart + to refuse you, poor man; but Jemmy, you see you have brought this on + yourself. If you had been an attentive, industrious man, an' minded your + religion, you wouldn't be as you are now. Six you have at home, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, not to speak of the woman; an' myself. I know you won't, refuse them, + Darby, bekase if we're hard pushed now, it's, a'most every body's case as + well as mine. Be what I may, you know I'm honest.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt your honesty, Jemmy; but Jemmy, if I sell my meal to a man + that can pay and won't, or if I sell my meal to a man that would pay and + can't, by which do I lose most? There it is, Jemmy—think o' that + now. Six in family, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Six in family, wid the woman an' myself.” + </p> + <p> + “The sorra man livin' feels more for you than I do, an' I would let you + have the meal if I could; but the truth is, I'm makin' up my rent—an' + Jemmy, I lost so much last year by my foolish good nature, an' I gave away + so much on trust, that now I'm brought to a hard pass myself. Troth I'll + fret enough this night for havin' to refuse you. I know it was rash of me + to make the promise I did; but still, God forbid that ever any man should + be able to throw it in my face, an' say that Darby Skinadre ever broke his + promise.” + </p> + <p> + “What promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, never to sell a pound of meal on trust.” + </p> + <p> + “God help us, then!—for what to do or where to go I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “It goes to my heart, Jemmy, to refuse you—six in family, an' the + two of yourselves. Troth it does, to my very heart itself; but stay, maybe + we may manage it. You have no money, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “No money now, but won't be so long, plaise God.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but haven't you value of any kind?—: sure, God help them, + they can't starve, poor cratures—the Lord pity them!” Here he wiped + away a drop of villainous rheum which ran down his cheek, and he did it + with such an appearance of sympathy, that almost any one would have + imagined it was a tear of compassion for the distresses of the poor man's + family. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, they can't starve. Have you no valuables of any kind, Jemmy!—ne'er + a baste now, or anything that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there's a young heifer; but I'm strugglin' to keep it to help me in + the rent. I was obliged to sell my pig long ago, for I had no way of + feedin' it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, bring me the heifer, Jemmy, an' I won't let the crathurs starve. + We'll see what can be done when it comes here. An' now, Jemmy, let me ax + if you wint to hear mass on last Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth I didn't like to go in this trim. Peggy has a web of frieze half + made this good while; it'll be finished some time, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Jemmy, Jemmy, it's no wondher the world's the way it is, for indeed + there's little thought of God or religion in it. You passed last Sunday + like a haythen, an' now you see how you stand to-day for the same.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll let me bring some o' the meal home wid me now,” said the man; “the + poor cratures tasted hardly anything to-day yet, an' they wor cryin' whin + I left home. I'll come back wid the heifer fullfut. Troth they're in + utther misery, Darby.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor things!—an' no wondher, wid such a haythen of a father; but, + Jemmy, bring the heifer here first till I look at it, an' the sooner you + bring it here the sooner they'll have relief, the crathurs.” + </p> + <p> + It is not our intention to follow up this iniquitous bargain any further; + it is enough to say that the heifer passed from Jemmy's possession into + his, at about the fourth part of its value. + </p> + <p> + To those who had money he was a perfect honey-comb, overflowing with + kindness and affection, expressed in such a profusion of warm and sugary + words, that it was next to an impossibility to doubt his sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “Darby,” said a very young female, on whose face was blended equal beauty + and sorrow, joined to an expression that was absolutely death-like, “I + suppose I needn't ax you for credit?” He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It's for the couple,” she added, “an' not for myself. I wouldn't ax it + for myself. I know my fault, an' my sin, an' may God forgive myself in the + first place, an' him that brought me to it, an' to the shame that followed + it! But what would the ould couple do now widout me?” + </p> + <p> + “An' have you no money? Ah, Margaret Murtagh! sinful creature—shame, + shame, Margaret. Unfortunate girl that you are, have you no money?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not, indeed; the death of my brother Alick left us as we are; he's + gone from them now; but there was no fear of me goin' that wished to go. + Oh, if God in His goodness to them had took me an' spared him, they + wouldn't be sendin' to you this day for meal to keep life in them till + things comes round.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth I pity them—from my heart I pity them now they're helpless + and ould—especially for havin' sich a daughter as you are; but if it + was my own father an' mother, God rest them, I couldn't give meal out on + credit. There's not in the parish a poorer man than I am. I'm done wid + givin' credit now, thank goodness; an' if I had been so long ago, it isn't + robbed, and ruined, an' beggared by rogues I'd be this day, but a warm, + full man, able and willin' too to help my neighbors; an' it is not empty + handed I'd send away any messenger from your father or mother, as I must + do, although my heart bleeds for them this minute.” + </p> + <p> + Here once more he wiped away the rheum, with every appearance of regret + and sorrow. In fact, one would almost suppose that by long practice he had + trained one of his eyes—for we ought to have said that there was one + of them more sympathetic than the other—to shed its hypocritical + tear at the right place, and in such a manner, too, that he might claim + all the credit of participating in the very distresses which he refused to + relieve, or by which he amassed his wealth. + </p> + <p> + The poor heart-broken looking girl, who by the way carried an unfortunate + baby in her arms, literally tottered out of the room, sobbing bitterly, + and with a look of misery and despair that it was woeful to contemplate. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then, Harry Hacket,” said he, passing to another, “how are you? an' + how are you all over in Derrycloony, Harry? not forgettin' the ould + couple?” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, middlin' only, Darby. My fine boy, Denis, is down wid this + illness, an' I'm wantin' a barrel of meal from you till towards + Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “Come inside, Harry, to this little nest here, till I tell you something; + an', by the way, let your father know I've got a new prayer that he'll + like to learn, for it's he that's the pious man, an' attinds to his duties—may + God enable him! and every one that has the devotion in the right place; <i>amin + a Chiernah!</i>” + </p> + <p> + He then brought Hacket into a little out-shot behind the room in which the + scales were, and shutting the door, thus proceeded in a sweet, + confidential kind of whisper— + </p> + <p> + “You see, Harry, what I'm goin' to say to you is what I'd not say to e'er + another in the parish, the divil a one—God pardon me for swearin'—<i>amin + a Chiernah!</i> I'm ruined all out—smashed down and broke horse and + foot; there's the Slevins that wint to America, an' I lost more than + thirty pounds by them.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” replied Hacket, “they paid you before they went; they were + always a daicent and an honest family, an' I never heard any one speak an + ill word o' them.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a penny, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “That's odd, then, bekaise it was only Sunday three weeks, that Murty + Slevin, their cousin, if you remember, made you acknowledge that they paid + you, at the chapel green.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' I do acknowledge; bekaise, Harry, one may as well spake + charitably of the absent as not; it's only in private to you that I'm + lettin' out the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” exclaimed the other, rather impatiently, “what have they to + do wid us?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, have they; it was what I lost by them an' others—see now, don't + be gettin' onpatient, I bid you—time enough for that when you're + refused—that prevints me from bein' able to give credit as I'd wish. + I'm not refusin' you, Harry; but <i>achora</i>, listen; you'll bring your + bill at two months, only I must charge you a trifle for trust, for + chances, or profit an' loss, as the schoolmasther says; but you're to keep + it a saicret from livin' mortal, bekaise if it 'ud get known in these + times that I'd do sich a thing, I'd have the very flesh ait off o' my + bones by others wantin' the same thing; bring me the bill, then, Harry, + an' I'll fill it up myself, only be <i>dhe husth</i> (* hold your tongue) + about it.” + </p> + <p> + Necessity forces those who are distressed to comply with many a rapacious + condition of the kind, and the consequence was that Hacket did what the + pressure of the time compelled him to do, passed his bill to Skinadre, at + a most usurious price, for the food which was so necessary to his family. + </p> + <p> + It is surprising how closely the low rustic extortioner and the city + usurer upon a larger scale resemble each other in the expression of their + sentiments, in their habits of business, their plausibility, natural tact, + and especially, in that hardness of heart and utter want of all human pity + and sympathy, upon which the success of their black arts of usury and + extortion essentially depends. With extortion in all its forms Skinadre, + for instance, was familiar. From those who were poor but honest, he got a + bill such as he exacted from Hacket, because he knew that, cost what it + might to them, he was safe in their integrity. If dishonest, he still got + a bill and relied upon the law and its cruel list of harassing and + fraudulent expenses for security. From others he got property of all + descriptions; from some, butter, yarn, a piece of frieze, a pig, a cow, or + a heifer. In fact, nothing that possessed value came wrong to him, so that + it is impossible to describe adequately the web of mischief which this + blood-sucking old spider contrived to spread around him, especially for + those whom he knew to be too poor to avail themselves of a remedy against + his villany. + </p> + <p> + “Molly Cassidy, how are you?” he said, addressing a poor looking woman who + carried a parcel of some description rolled up under her cloak; “how are + all the family, achora?” + </p> + <p> + “Glory be to God for it, they can scarcely be worse;” replied the woman, + in that spirit of simple piety and veneration for the Deity, which in all + their misery characterizes the Irish people; “but sure we're only + sufferin' like others, an' indeed not so bad as many; there's Mick Kelly + has lost his fine boy Lanty; and his other son, young Mick, isn't expected + to live, an' all wid this sickness, that was brought on them, as it is + everywhere, wid bad feedin'.” + </p> + <p> + “They're miserable times, Molly, at least I find them so; for I dunna how + it happens, but every one's disappointment falls upon me, till they have + me a'most out of house an' home—throth it 'ud be no wondher I'd get + hard-hearted some day wid the way I'm thrated an' robbed by every one; + aye, indeed, bekase I'm good-natured, they play upon me.” + </p> + <p> + The poor creature gave a faint smile, for she knew the man's character + thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + “I have a dish of butther here, Darby,” she said, “an' I want meal instead + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Butther, Molly; why thin, Molly, sure it isn't to me you're bringing + butther—me that has so much of it lyin' on my hands here already. + Sure, any way, it's down to dirt since the wars is over—butther is; + if it was anything else but butther, Molly: but—it's of no use; I've + too much of it.” + </p> + <p> + “The sorra other thing I have, thin, Mr. Skinadre; but sure you had + betther look at it, an' you'll find it's what butther ought to be, firm, + claine, and sweet.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't take it, achora; there's no market for it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, as we're distressed, take it for sixpence a pound, and that's the + lowest price—God knows, if we wern't as we are, it isn't for that + you'd get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, I dar' say, you're ill off—as who isn't in these times? an' + it's worse they're gettin' an' will be gettin' every day. Troth, I say, my + heart bleeds for you; but we can't dale; oh, no! butther, as I said, is + only dirt now.” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, thin,” exclaimed the alarmed creature, “take it for + whatever you like.” + </p> + <p> + “It 'ud go hard wid me to see your poor family in a state of outther + want,” he replied, “an' it's not in my nature to be harsh to a struggling + person—-so whether I lose or gain, I'll allow you three-pence a + pound for it.” + </p> + <p> + A shade of bitterness came across her features at this iniquitous + proposal; but she felt the truth of that old adage in all its severity, + that necessity has no law. + </p> + <p> + “God help us,” she exclaimed—“threepence a pound for such butther as + this!—however, it's the will of God sure, an' it can't be helped—take + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it's aisy said, take it; but not to say what'll I do wid it, when I + have it; however, that's the man I am, an' I know how it'll end wid me—sarvin' + every one, workin' for every one, an' thinkin' of every one but myself, + an' little thanks or gratitude for all—I know I'm not fit for sich a + world—but still it's a consolation to be doin' good to our + fellow-creatures when we can, an' that's what lightens my heart.” + </p> + <p> + A woman now entered, whose appearance excited general sympathy, as was + evident from the subdued murmurs of compassion which were breathed from + the persons assembled, as soon as she entered the room. There was + something about her which, in spite of her thin and worn dress, intimated + a consciousness of a position either then or at some previous time, above + that of the common description of farmer's wives. No one could mistake her + for a highly-educated woman—but there was in her appearance that + decency of manner resulting from habits of independence and from moral + feeling, which at a first glance, whether it be accompanied by superior + dress or not, indicates something which is felt to entitle its proprietor + to unquestionable respect. The miser, when she entered, had been putting + away the dish of butter into the outshot we have mentioned, so that he had + not yet an opportunity of seeing her, and, ere he returned to the scales, + another female possessing probably not less interest to the reader, + presented herself—this was Mave or Mabel, the young and beautiful + daughter of the pious and hospitable Jerry Sullivan. + </p> + <p> + Skinadre on perceiving the matron who preceded her, paused for a moment, + and looked at her with a wince in his thin features that might be taken + for an indication of either pleasure or pain. He' closed the sympathetic + eye, and wiped it—but this not seeming to satisfy him, he then + closed both, and blew his nose with a little skeleton mealy handkerchief + that lay on a sack beside him for that purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Hem—a-hem! why, thin, Mrs. Dalton, it isn't to my poor place I + expected you would come.” + </p> + <p> + “Darby,” she replied, “there is no use for any length of conversation + between you and me—I'm here contrary to the wishes of my family—but + I am a mother, and cannot look upon their destitution without feeling that + I should not allow my pride to stand between them and death: we are + starving, I mean—they are; and I'm come to ask you for credit; if we + are ever able to pay you, we will; if not, it's only one good act done to + a family that often did many to you when they thought you grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm the worst in the world—I'm the worst in the world,” replied + Skinadre; “but it wasn't till I knew that you'd be put out o' your farm + that I offered for it, and now you've taken away my carrecther, an' spoken + ill o' me everywhere, an' said that I bid for it over your heads; ay, + indeed, an' that it was your husband that set me up, by the way—oh, + yes—an' supposin' it was, an' I'm not denyin' it, but is that any + raisin that I'd not bid for a good farm, when I knew that yez 'ud be put + out of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am now spakin' about the distress of our family,” said Mrs. Dalton, + “you know that sickness has been among us, and is among us—poor Tom + is just able to be up, but that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, an' it 'ud be well for you all, an' for himself too, that he had + been taken away afore he comes in a bad end. What he will come too, if God + hasn't said it. I hope he feels the affliction he brought on poor Ned + Munay an' his family by the hand he made of his unfortunate daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “He does feel it. The death of her brother and their situation has touched + his heart, an' he's only waitin' for better health and better times to do + her justice; but now what answer do you give me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this: I'm harrished by what I've done for every one; an'—an'—the + short and the long of it is, that I've naither male nor money to throw + away. I couldn't afford it and I can't. I'm a rogue, Mrs. Dalton—a + miser, an extortioner, an ungrateful knave, and everything that is bad an' + worse than another; an' for that raison, I say, I have naither male nor + money to throw away. That's what I'd say if I was angry; but I'm not + angry. I do feel for you an' them; still I can't afford to do what you + want, or I'd do it, for I like to do good for evil, bad as I am. I'm + strivin' to make up my rent an' to pay an unlucky bill that I have due + to-morrow, and doesn't know where the money's to come from to meet both.” + </p> + <p> + “Mave Sullivan, achora, what can I—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton, from her position in the room, could not have noticed the + presence of Mave Sullivan, but even had she been placed otherwise, it + would have been somewhat difficult to get a glimpse of the young + creature's face. Deeply did she participate in the sympathy which was felt + for the mother of her mother, and so naturally delicate were her feelings, + that she had drawn up the hood of her cloak, lest the other might have + felt the humiliation to which Mave's presence must have exposed her by the + acknowledgment of her distress. Neither was this all the gentle and + generous girl had to suffer. She experienced, in her own person, as well + as Mrs. Dalton did, the painful sense of degradation which necessity + occasions, by a violation of that hereditary spirit of decent pride and + independence which the people consider as the prestige of high respect, + and which, even while it excites compassion and sympathy, is looked upon, + to a certain extent, as diminished by even a temporary visitation of + poverty. When the meal-man, therefore, addressed her, she unconsciously + threw the hood of her cloak back, and disclosed to the spectators a face + burning with blushes and eyes filled with tears. The tears, however, were + for the distress of Mrs. Dalton and her family, and the blushes for the + painful circumstances which compelled her at once to witness them, and to + expose those which were left under her own careworn father's roof. Mrs. + Dalton, however, on looking round and perceiving what seemed to be an + ebullition merely of natural shame, went over to her with a calm but + mournful manner that amounted almost to dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mave,” she said, “there is nothing here to be ashamed of. God forbid + that the struggle of an honest family with poverty should bring a blot + upon either your good name or mine. It does not, nor it will not: so dry + your tears, my darlin' girl; there are better times before us all, I + trust. Darby Skinadre,” she added, turning to the miser, “you are both + hard-hearted and ungrateful, or you would remember, in our distress, the + kindness we showed you in yours. If you can cleanse your conscience from + the stain of ingratitude, it must be by a change of life.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever stain there may be on my ungrateful conscience,” he replied, + turning up his red eyes, as it were with thanksgiving, “there's not the + stain of blood and murdher on it—that's one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton did not seem to hear him, neither did she seem to look in the + direction of where he stood. As the words were uttered she had been in the + act of extending her hand to Mave Sullivan, who had hers stretched out to + receive it. There now occurred, however, a mutual pause. Her hand was + withdrawn, as was that of Mave also, who had suddenly become pale as + death. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my darlin' girl!” exclaimed Mrs. Dalton, sighing, as if + with some hidden sorrow; “God bless you and yours, prays my unhappy heart + this day!” + </p> + <p> + And with these words she was about to depart, when Mave, trembling and + much agitated, laid her hand gently and timidly upon her,—adding, in + a low, sweet, tremulous voice, + </p> + <p> + “My heart is free from that suspicion—I can't tell why—but I + don't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + And while she spoke, her small hand gradually caught that of Mrs. Dalton, + as a proof that she would not withhold the embrace on that account. Mrs. + Dalton returned her pressure, and at the same moment kissed the fair + girl's lips, who sobbed a moment or two in her arms, where she threw + herself. The other again invoked a blessing upon her head, and walked out, + having wiped a few tears from her pale cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The miser looked upon this exhibition of feeling with some surprise; but + as his was not a heart susceptible of the impressions it was calculated to + produce, he only said in a tone of indifference: + </p> + <p> + “Well, to be sure now, Mave, I didn't expect to see you shakin' hands wid + and kissin' Condy Dalton's wife, at any rate, considerin' all that has + happened atween the families. However, it's good to be forgivin'; I hope + it is; indeed I know that; for it comes almost to a feelin' in myself. + Well, <i>achora</i>, what am I to do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me speak to you inside a minute?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Will I? Why, then, to be sure I will; an' who knows but it's my + daughter-in-law I might have you yet, <i>avillish!</i> Yourself and + Darby's jist about an age. Come inside, <i>ahagur</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Their dialogue was not of very long duration. Skinadre, on returning to + the scales, weighed two equal portions of oatmeal, for one of which Mave + paid him. + </p> + <p> + “I will either come or send for this,” she said laying her hand on the one + for which she had paid. “If I send any one, I'll give the token I + mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, a suchar—very well,” he replied; “it's for nobody livin' + but yourself I'd do it; but sure, now that I must begin to coort you for + Darby, it won't be aisy to refuse you for anything in raison.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind, then,” she observed, as she seized one of the portions, in order to + proceed home; “mind,” said she, laying her hand upon that which she was + leaving behind her; “mind it's for this one I have paid you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, achora, it makes no difference; sure a kiss o' them red, purty + lips o' yours to Darby will pay the inthrest for all.” + </p> + <p> + Two other females now made their appearance, one with whom our readers are + already acquainted. This was no other than the prophet's wife, who had for + her companion a woman whom neither she herself nor any one present knew. + </p> + <p> + “Mave Sullivan, darlin',” exclaimed the former, “I'm glad to see you. Are + you goin' home, now?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, Nelly,” replied Mave, “jist on my step.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thin, if you stop a minute or two, I'll be part o' the way wid you. + I have somethin' to mention as we go along.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” replied Mave; “make as much haste as you can, Nelly, + for I'm in a hurry;” and an expression of melancholy settled upon her + countenance as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + The stranger was a tall thin woman, much about the age and height of the + prophet's 'wife, but neither so lusty nor so vigorous in appearance, She + was but indifferently dressed, and though her features had evidently been + handsome in her younger days, yet there was now a thin, shrewish + expression about the nose, and a sharpness about the compressed lips, and + those curves which bounded in her mouth, that betokened much firmness if + not obstinancy in her character, joined to a look which might as well be + considered an indication of trial and suffering, as of a temper naturally + none of the best. + </p> + <p> + On hearing Mave Sullivan's name mentioned, she started, and looked at her + keenly, and for a considerable time; after which she asked for a drink of + water, which she got in the kitchen, where she sat, as it seemed to rest a + little. + </p> + <p> + Nelly, in the meantime, put her hand in a red, three-cornered pocket that + hung by her side, and pulling out a piece of writing, presented it to the + meal man. That worthy gentleman, on casting his eye over it, read as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Skinadre: Give Daniel M'Gowan, otherwise the Black Prophet, any + quantity of meal necessary for his own family, which please charge, (and + you know why,) to your friend, + </p> + <p> + “Dick o' the Grange, Jun.” + </p> + <p> + Skinadre's face, on perusing this document, was that of a man who felt + himself pulled in different directions by something at once mortifying and + pleasant. He smiled at first, then bit his lips, winked one eye, then + another; looked at the prophet's wife with complacency, but immediately + checked himself, and began to look keen and peevish. This, however, + appeared to be an error on the other side; and the consequence was, that, + after some comical alterations, his countenance settled down into its + usual expression. + </p> + <p> + “Troth,” said he, “that same Dick o' the Grange, as he calls himself, is a + quare young gintleman; as much male as you want—a quare, mad—your + family's small, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “But sharp an' active,” she replied, with a hard smile, as of one who + cared not for the mirth she made, “as far as we go.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said he, abruptly, “divil a much—God pardon me for swearin'—ever + they wor for good that had a large appetite. It's a bad sign of either man + or woman. There never was a villain hanged yet that didn't ait more to his + last breakfast than ever he did at a meal in his life before. How-an-ever, + one may as well have a friend; so I suppose, we must give you a thrifle.” + </p> + <p> + When her portion was weighed out, she and Mave Sullivan left this scene of + extortion together, followed by the strange woman, who seemed, as it were, + to watch their motions, or at least to feel some particular interest in + them. + </p> + <p> + He had again resumed his place at the scales, and was about to proceed in + his exactions, when the door opened, and a powerful young man, tall, big + boned and broad shouldered, entered the room, leading or rather dragging + with him the poor young-woman and her child, who had just left the place + in such bitterness and affliction. He was singularly handsome, and of such + resolute and manly bearing, that it was impossible not to mark him as a + person calculated to impress one with a strong anxiety to know who and + what he might be. On this occasion his cheek was blanched and his eye + emitted a turbid fire, which could scarcely be determined as that of + indignation or illness. + </p> + <p> + “Is it thrue,” he asked, “that you've dared to refuse to this—this—unfor—is + it thrue that you've dared to refuse this girl and her starvin' father and + mother the meal she wanted? Is this thrue, you hard-hearted ould + scoundrel?—bekaise if it is, by the blessed sky above us, I'll pull + the wind-pipe out of you, you infernal miser!” + </p> + <p> + He seized unfortunate Skinadre by the neck, as he spoke, and almost at the + same moment forced him to project his tongue about three inches out of his + mouth, causing his face at the same time to assume, by the violence of the + act, an expression of such comic distress and terror, as it was difficult + to look upon with gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Is it thrue,” he repeated, in a voice of thunder, “that you've dared to + do so scoundrelly an act, an' she, the unfortunate creature, famishing wid + hunger herself?” + </p> + <p> + While he spake, he held Skinadre's neck as if in a vice—firm in the + same position—and the latter, of course, could do nothing more than + turn his ferret eyes round as well as he could, to entreat him to relax + his grip. + </p> + <p> + “Don't choke him, Tom,” exclaimed Hacket, who came forward, to interpose; + “you'll strangle him; as Heaven's above, you will.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what great crime would that be?” answered the other, relaxing his + awful grip of the miser. “Isn't he an' every cursed meal-monger like him a + curse and a scourge to the counthry—and hasn't the same counthry + curses and scourges enough widhout either him or them? Answer me now,” he + proceeded, turning to Skinadre, “why did you send her away widout the food + she wanted?” + </p> + <p> + “My heart bled for her; but—” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie, you born hypocrite—it's a lie—your heart never + bled for anything, or anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't know,” replied the miser, “what I lost by—” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie, I say,” thundered out the gigantic young fellow, once more + seizing the unfortunate meal-monger by the throat, when out again went his + tongue, like a piece of machinery touched by a spring, and again were the + red eyes now almost starting out of his head, turned round, whilst he + himself was in a state of suffocation, that rendered his appearance + ludicrous beyond description—“it's a lie, I say, for you have + neither thruth nor heart—that's what we all know.” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake, let the man go,” said Hacket, “or you'll have his + death to answer for “—and as he spoke he attempted to unclasp the + young man's grip; “Tom Dalton, I say, let the man go.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton, who was elder brother to the lover of Mave Sullivan, seized Hacket + with one of his hands, and spun him like a child to the other end of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Keep away,” he exclaimed, “till I settle wid him—here now, + Skinadre, listen to me—you refused my father credit when we wanted + it, although you knew we were honest—you refused him credit when we + were turned out of our place, although you knew the sickness was among us—well, + you know whether we that wor your friends, an'—my father at least—the + makin' of you”—and as he spoke, he accompanied every third word by a + shake or two, as a kind of running commentary upon what he said; “ay—you + did—you knew it well, and I could bear all that; but I can't bear + you to turn this unfortunate girl out of your place, widout what she + wants, and she's sinkin' wid hunger herself. If she's in distress, 'twas I + that brought her to it, an' to shame an' to sorrow too—but I'll set + all right for you yet, Margaret dear—an' no one has a betther right + to spake for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” said the young woman, with a feeble voice, “for the love of God let + him go or he'll drop.” + </p> + <p> + “Not,” replied Dalton, “till he gives you what you come for. Come now,” he + proceeded, addressing the miser, “weigh her. How much will you be able to + carry, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind, now, Tom,” she replied, “I don't want any, it's the ould + people at home—it's them—it's them.” + </p> + <p> + “Weigh her out,” continued the other, furiously; “weigh her out a stone of + meal, or by all the lies that ever came from your lips, I'll squeeze the + breath out of your body, you deceitful ould hypocrite.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said the miser, panting, and adjusting his string of a cravat, + “I will, Tom; here, I ain't able, weigh it yourself—I'm not—indeed + I'm not able,” said he, breathless; “an' I was thinkin when you came in of + sendin' afther her, bekase, when I heard of the sickness among them, that + I mayn't sin, but I found my heart bleedin' inwar—” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/pageBP807.jpg" + alt="Page 807-- Tom's Clutches Were Again at his Throat " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Tom's clutches were again at his throat. “Another lie,” he exclaimed, “and + you'r a gone man. Do what I bid you.” + </p> + <p> + Skinadre appeared, in point of fact, unable to do so, and Dalton seeing + this, weighed the unhappy young woman a stone of oatmeal, which, on + finding it too heavy for her feeble strength, he was about to take up + himself when he put his hands to his temples, then staggered and fell. + </p> + <p> + They immediately gathered about him to ascertain the cause of this sudden + attack, when it appeared that he had become insensible. His brow was now + pale and cold as marble, and a slight dew lay upon his broad forehead; his + shirt was open, and exposed to view a neck and breast, which, although + sadly wasted, were of surpassing whiteness and great manly beauty. + </p> + <p> + Margaret, on seeing him fall, instantly placed her baby in the hands of + another woman, and flying to him, raised his head and laid it upon her + bosom; whilst the miser, who had now recovered, shook his head, lifted his + hands, and looked as if he felt that his house was undergoing pollution. + In the meantime, the young woman bent her mouth down to his ear, and said, + in tones that were wild and hollow, and that had more of despair than even + of sorrow in them— + </p> + <p> + “Tom, oh, Tom, are you gone?—hear me!” + </p> + <p> + But he replied not to her. “Ah! there was a day,” she added, looking with + a mournful smile around, “when he loved to listen to my voice; but that + day has passed forever.” + </p> + <p> + He opened his eyes as she spoke; hers were fixed upon him. He felt a few + warm tears upon his face, and she exclaimed in a low voice, not designed + for other ears— + </p> + <p> + “I forgive you all, Tom, dear—I forgive you all!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, and starting to his feet, exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, my own Margaret, hear me! She is dyin',” he shouted, in a + hoarse and excited voice—“she is dyin' with want. I see it all. + She's dead!” + </p> + <p> + It was too true; the unhappy girl had passed into another life; but, + whether from a broken heart, caused by sin, shame, and desertion, or from + famine and the pressure of general destitution and distress, could never + properly be ascertained. + </p> + <p> + “I see!” exclaimed Dalton, his eyes again blazing, and his voice hollow + with emotion—“I see—there she lies; and who brought her to + that? But I intended to set all right. Ay—there she lies. An' again, + how are we at home? Brought low down, down to a mud cabin! Now, Dick o' + the Grange, an' now, Darby Skinadre—now for revenge. The time is + come. I'll take my place at the head of them, and what's to be done, must + be done. Margaret Murtagh, you're lying dead before me, and by the broken + heart you died of—” + </p> + <p> + He could add no more; but with these words, tottering and frantic, he + rushed out of the miser's house. + </p> + <p> + “Wid the help o' God, the young savage is as mad as a March hare,” + observed Skinadre, coolly; “but, as it's all over wid the unfortunate + crature, I don't see why an honest man should lose his own, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst uttering these words, he seized the meal, and deliberately emptied + it back into the chest from which young Dalton had taken it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — A Middle Man and Magistrate—Master and Man. + </h2> + <p> + Having mentioned a strange woman who made her appearance at Skinadre's, it + may be necessary, or, at least, agreeable to the reader, that we should + account for her presence under the roof of that worthy individual, + especially as she is likely to perform a part of some interest in our + tale. We have said already that she started on hearing Mave Sullivan's + name mentioned, and followed her and the Black Prophet's wife like a + person who watched their motions, and seemed to feel some peculiar + interest in either one or both. The reader must return, then, to the Grey + Stone already alluded to, which to some of the characters in our narrative + will probably prove to be a “stone of destiny.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon, having departed from Sarah M'Gowan in a state of excitement, + wended his way along a lonely and dreary road, to the residence of his + master, Dick o' the Grange. The storm had increased, and was still + increasing at every successive blast, until it rose to what might be + termed a tempest. It is, indeed, a difficult thing to describe the + peculiar state of his feelings as he struggled onwards, sometimes blown + back to a stand-still, and again driven forward by the gloomy and + capricious tyranny of the blast, as if he were its mere plaything. In + spite, however, of the conflict of the external elements as they careered + over the country around him, he could not shake from his imagination the + impression left there by the groan which he had heard at the Grey Stone. A + supernatural terror, therefore, was upon him, and he felt as if he were in + the presence of an accompanying spirit—of a spirit that seemed + anxious to disclose the fact that murder would not rest; and so strongly + did this impression gain upon him, that in the fitful howling of the + storm, and in its wild wailing and dying sobs among the trees and hedges, + as he went along, he thought he could distinguish sounds that belonged not + to this life. Still he proceeded, his terrors thus translating, as it + were, the noisy conflict of the elements into the voices of the dead, or + thanking Heaven that the strong winds brought him to a calmer sense of his + position, by the necessity that they imposed of preserving himself against + their violence. In this anomalous state he advanced, until he came to a + grove of old beeches that grew at the foot of one of the hill-ranges we + have described, and here the noises he heard were not calculated to + diminish his terrors. As the huge trees were tossed and swung about in the + gloomy moonlight, his ears were assailed by a variety of wild sounds which + had never reached them before. The deep and repeated crashes of the + tempest, as it raged among them, was accompanied by a frightful repetition + of hoarse moanings, muffled groans, and wild unearthly shrieks, which + encountered him from a thousand quarters in the grove, and he began to + feel that horrible excitement which is known to be occasioned by the mere + transition from extreme cowardice to reckless indifference. + </p> + <p> + Still he advanced homewards, repeating his prayers with singular energy, + his head uncovered notwithstanding the severity of the night, and the rain + pouring in torrents upon him, when he found it necessary to cross a level + of rough land, at all times damp and marshy, but in consequence of the + rains of the season, now a perfect morass. Over this he had advanced about + half a mile, and got beyond the frightful noises of the woods, when some + large object rose into the air from a clump of plashy rushes before him, + and shot along the blast, uttering a booming sound, so loud and stunning + that he stood riveted to the earth. The noise resembled that which + sometimes proceeds from a humming-top, if a person could suppose one made + upon such a gigantic scale as to produce the deep and hollow buzz which + this being emitted. Nothing could now convince him that he was not + surrounded by spirits, and he felt confident that the voice of + undiscovered murder was groaning on the blast—shrieking, as it were, + for vengeance in the terrible voice of the tempest. He once more blessed + himself, repeated a fresh prayer, and struggled forward, weak, and nearly + exhausted, until at length he reached the village adjoining which his + master, Dick o' the Grange, resided. + </p> + <p> + The winds now, and for some minutes previously, had begun to fall, and the + lulls in the storm were calmer and more frequent, as well as longer in + duration. Hanlon proceeded to his master's, and peering through the + shutters, discovered that the servants had not yet retired to rest; then + bending his steps further up the village, he soon reached a small isolated + cabin, at the door of which he knocked, and in due time was admitted by a + thin, tall female. + </p> + <p> + “God protect us, dear, you're lost!—blessed father, sich a night! + Oh! my, my! Well, well; sit near the spark o' fire, sich as it is; but, + indeed, it's little you'll benefit by it. Any way, sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon sat on a stool, and laying his hat beside him on the floor, he + pressed the rain as well as he could out of his drenched hair, and for + some time did not speak, whilst the female, squatted upon the ground, + somewhat like a hare in her form, sat with the candle in her hand, which + she held up in the direction of his face, whilst her eyes were riveted on + him with a look of earnest and solemn inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she at length said, “did your journey end, as I tould you it + would, in nothing? And yet, God presarve me, you look—eh!—what + has happened?—you look like one that was terrified, sure enough. + Tell me, at wanst, did the dhrame come out thrue?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not have a light heart this many a day,” he replied; “let no one say + there's not a Providence above us to bring murdher to light.” + </p> + <p> + “God of glory be about us!” she exclaimed, interrupting him; “something + has happened! Your looks would frighten one, an' your voice isn't like the + voice of a livin' man. Tell me—and yet, for all so curious as I + feel, I'm thremblin' this minute—but tell me, did the dhrame come + out thrue, I say?” + </p> + <p> + “The dhrame came out thrue,” he replied, solemnly. “I know where the + tobaccy box is that he had about him; the same that transported my poor + uncle, or that was partly the means of doin' it.” + </p> + <p> + The woman crossed herself, muttered a short ejaculatory prayer, and again + gathered her whole features into an expression of mingled awe and + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Did you go to the place you dhramed of?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I went to the Grey Stone,” he replied, “an' offered up a prayer for his + sowl, afther puttin' my right hand upon it in his name, jist as I did on + yesterday; afther I got an account of the tobaccy box, I heard a groan at + the spot—as heaven's above me, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Savior of earth, <i>gluntho shin!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “But that wasn't all. On my way home, I heard, as I was passin' the ould + trees at the Rabbit Bank, things that I can't find words to tell you of.” + </p> + <p> + “Well acushla, glory be to God for everything! it's all his will, blessed + be his name! What did you hear, avick?—but wait till I throw a drop + o' the holy wather that I have hangin' in the little bottle at the + bed-post upon us.” + </p> + <p> + She rose whilst speaking and getting the bottle alluded to, sprinkled both + herself and him, after which she hung it up again in its former position. + </p> + <p> + “There, now, nothin' harmful, at any rate, can come near us afther that, + blessed be his name. Well, what did you hear comin' home?—I mean at + the Rabbit Bank. Wurrah,” she added, shuddering, “but it's it that's the + lonely spot after night! What was it, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I can scarcely tell you—sich groans, an' wild shoutins, an' + shrieks, man's ears never hard in this world, I think; there I hard them + as I was comin' past the trees, an' afther I passed them; an' when I left + them far behind me, I could hear, every now and then, a wild shriek that + made my blood run cowld. But there was still worse as I crossed the Black + Park; something got up into the air out o' the rushes before me, an' went + off wid a noise not unlike what Jerry Hamilton of the Band makes when he + rubs his middle finger up against the tamborine.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven be about us!” she exclaimed, once more crossing herself, and + uttering a short prayer for protection from evil; “but tell me, how did + you know it was his Box, and how did you find it out?” + </p> + <p> + “By the letters P. M., and the broken hinge,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be the name of God!” she exclaimed again—“He won't let the + murdher lie, that's clear. But what I want to know is, how did your goin' + to the Grey Stone bring you to the knowledge of the box?” + </p> + <p> + He then gave her a more detailed account of his conversation with Sarah + M'Gowan, and the singular turn which it chanced to take towards the + subject of the handkerchief, in the first instance; but when the + coincidence of the letters were mentioned, together with Sarah's admission + that she had the box in her possession, she clasped her hands, and looking + upwards exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be the name of the Almighty for that! Oh, I feel there is no + doubt now the hand of God is in it, an' we'll come at the murdher or the + murdherers yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” he replied; “but I'm lost Wid wet an' cowld; so in the + meantime I'll be off home, an' to my bed. I had something to say to you + about another matther, but I'll wait till mornin'; dear knows, I'm in no + condition to spake about anything else to-night. This is a snug little + cabin; but, plaise God, in the coorse of a week or so, I'll have you more + comfortable than you are. If my own throuble was over me, I wouldn't stop + long in the neighborhood; but as the hand of God seems to be in this + business, I can't think of goin' till it's cleared up, as cleared up it + will be, I have no doubt, an' can have none, afther what has happened this + awful night.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon's situation with his master was one with which many of our readers + are, no doubt, well acquainted. He himself was a clever, active, ingenious + fellow, who could, as they say in the country, put a hand to anything, and + make himself useful in a great variety of employments. He had in the + spring of that year, been engaged as a common laborer by Dick o' the + Grange, in which capacity he soon attracted his employer's notice, by his + extraordinary skill in almost everything pertaining to that worthy + gentleman's establishment. It is true he was a stranger in the country, of + whom nobody knew anything—for there appeared to be some mystery + about him; but as Dick cared little of either his place of birth or + pedigree, it was sufficient for him to find that Hanlon was a very useful, + not to say valuable young man, about his house, that he understood + everything, and had an eye and hand equally quick and experienced. The + consequence was, that he soon became a favorite with the father, and a + kind of <i>sine qua non</i> with the son, into whose rustic gallantries he + entered, with a spirit that satisfied the latter of his capacity to serve + him in that respect as well as others. Hanlon, in truth, was just the + person for such a master, and for such an establishment as he kept. Dick + o' the Grange was not a man who, either by birth, education, or position + in society, could entertain any pretensions to rank with the gentry of the + surrounding country. It is true he was a magistrate, but then he was a + middleman, and as such found himself an interested agent in the operation + of one of the worst and most cruel systems that ever cursed either the + country or the people. We of course mean that which suffered a third party + to stand between the head landlord, and those who in general occupied the + soil. Of this system, it may be with truth said, that the iniquity lay + rather in the principal on which it rested, than in the individual who + administered it; because it was next to an impossibility that a man + anxious to aggrandize his family—as almost every man is—could, + in the exercise of the habits which enable him to do so, avoid such a + pressure upon those who were under him as amounted to great hardships and + injustice. The system held out so many temptations to iniquity in the + management of land, and in the remuneration of labor, that it required an + amount of personal virtue and self-denial to resist them, that were + scarcely to be expected from any one, so difficult was it to overlook or + neglect the opportunities for oppression and fraud which it thus offered. + </p> + <p> + Old Dick, although bearing the character of being a violent and outrageous + man, was, however, one of those persons of whom there will be always + somebody found to speak favorably. Hot and ungovernable in temper, he + unquestionably was, and capable of savage and cruel acts; but at the same + time his capricious and unsteady impulses rendered him uncertain, whether + for good or evil; so much so, indeed, that it was impossible to know when + to ask him for a favor; nor was it extraordinary to find him a friend this + day to the man whose avowed enemy he proclaimed himself yesterday; and + this same point of character was true the other way—-for whilst + certain that you had him for a friend, perhaps you found him hard at work + to oppress or over-reach you if he could. The consequence of this + peculiarity was that he had a two-fold reputation in the country. Some + were found to abuse him, and others to mention many acts of generosity and + kindness which he had been known to perform under circumstances where they + were least to be expected. This perhaps was one reason why they made so + strong an impression upon the people, and were so distinctly remembered to + his advantage. It is true he was a violent party man, but then he wanted + coolness to adjust his principles, and thus make them subservient to his + private interests. For this reason, notwithstanding his strong and + out-spoken prejudices, it was a well know fact, that the Roman Catholic + population preferred him as a magistrate to many who were remarkable for a + more equal and even tenor of life, and in whom, under greater plausibility + of manner, there existed something which they would have readily exchanged + for his violent abuse of them and their creed. + </p> + <p> + Such was Dick o' the Grange, a man who, as a middleman and a magistrate, + stood out a prominent representative of a class that impressed themselves + strongly upon their times, and who, whether as regards their position or + office, would not find at the present day in the ranks of any party in + Ireland a single man who could come forward and say they were not an + oppressive evil to the country. + </p> + <p> + Dick o' the Grange, at this period of our narrative, was far advanced in + years, and had, some time past, begun to feel what is known in men who + have led a hard convivial life, as that breaking down of the constitution, + which is generally the forerunner of dissolution. On this account he had + for some time past resigned the management of his property altogether to + his son, young Dick, who was certainly wild and unreflecting, but neither + so impulsively generous, nor so habitually violent as his father. The + estimate of his character which went abroad was such as might be expected—many + thought him better than the old man. He was the youngest son and a + favorite—two circumstances which probably occasioned his education + to be neglected, as it had been. All his sisters and brothers having been + for some years married and settled in life, he, and his father, who was a + widower, kept a bachelor's house, where we regret to say the parental + surveillance over his morals was not so strict as it ought to have been. + Young Dick was handsome, and so exceedingly vain of his person, that any + one wishing to gain a favor either from himself or his worthy sire, had + little more to do than dexterously apply a strong dose of flattery to this + his weakest point, and the favor was sure to be granted, for his influence + over old Dick was boundless. + </p> + <p> + In this family, then, it was that Hanlon held the situation we have + described—that is, partly a gardener, and partly a steward, and + partly a laboring man. There was a rude and riotous character in and about + Dick's whole place, which marked it at once as the property of a person + below the character of a gentleman. Abundance there was, and great wealth; + but neither elegance nor neatness marked the house or furniture. His + servants partook of the same equivocal appearance, as did the father and + son, and the “Grange” in general; but, above all and everything in his + establishment, must we place, in originality and importance, Jemmy + Branigan, who, in point of fact, ought to receive credit for the greater + portion of old Dick's reputation, or at least for all that was good of it. + Jemmy was his old, confidential—enemy—for more than forty + years, during the greater portion of which period it could scarcely be + said with truth that, in Jemmy's hands, Dick o' the Grange ought to be + looked to as a responsible person. When we say “enemy,” we know perfectly + well what we mean; for if half a dozen battles between Jemmy and his + master every day during the period above mentioned constituted friendship, + then, indeed, the reader may substitute the word friend, if he pleases. + </p> + <p> + In fact, Dick and Jemmy had become notorious throughout the whole country; + and we are certain that many of our readers will, at first glance, + recognize these two remarkable individuals. Truly, the ascendancy which + Jemmy had gained over the magistrate, was surprising; and nothing could be + more amusing than the interminable series of communications, both written + and oral, which passed between them, in the shape of dismissals from + service on the one side, and notices to leave on the other; each of which + whether written or oral, was treated by the party noticed with the most + thorough contempt. Nothing was right that Jemmy disapproved of, and + nothing wrong that had his sanction, and this without any reference + whatsoever to the will of his master, who, if he happened to get into a + passion about it, was put down by Jemmy, who got into a greater passion + still; so that, after a long course of recrimination and Billinsgate on + both sides, delivered by Jemmy in an incomparably louder voice, and with a + more consequential manner, old Dick was finally forced to succumb. + </p> + <p> + The worthy magistrate and his son were at breakfast next morning, when + young “Master Richard,” as he was called, rung the bell, and Jemmy + attended—for we must add, that Jemmy discharged the duties of + butler, together with any other duty that he himself deemed necessary, and + that without leave asked or given. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Hanlon, Jemmy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Hanlon? troth, it's little matther where he is, an' devil a one o' myself + cares.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I care, Jemmy, for I want him. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He's gone up to that ould streele's, that lives in the cabin above there. + I don't like the same Hanlon; nobody here knows anything about him, nor he + won't let them know anything about him. He's as close as Darby Skinadre, + and as deep as a dhraw-well. Altogether, he looks as if there was a weight + on his conscience, for all his lightness an' fun—an' if I thought + so, I'd discharge him at wanst.” + </p> + <p> + “And I agree with you for once,” observed his master; “there is some + cursed mystery about him. I don't like him, either, to say the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “An' why don't you like him?” asked Jemmy, with a contemptuous look. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say; but I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “No! you can't? I know you can't say anything, at all events, that you + ought to say,” replied Jemmy, who, like, his master, would have died + without contradiction; “but I can say why you don't like him; it's bekaise + he's the best sarvint ever was about your place; that's the raison you + don't like him. But what do you know about a good sarvint or a bad one, or + anything else that's useful to you, God help you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were near my cane, you old scoundrel, I'd pay you for your + impertinence, ay would I.” + </p> + <p> + “Ould scoundrel, is it? Oh, hould your tongue; I'm not of your blood, + thank God!—and don't be fastenin' your name upon me. Ould scoundrel, + indeed!—Troth, we could spare an odd one now and then out of our own + little establishment.” + </p> + <p> + “Jemmy, never mind,” said the son, “but tell Hanlon I want to speak to him + in the office after breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “If I see him I will, but the devil an inch I'll go out o' my way for it—if + I see him I will, an' if I don't I won't. Did you put a fresh bandage to + your leg, to keep in them Pharisee (* Varicose, we presume) veins o' + yours, as the docthor ordhered you?” + </p> + <p> + This, in fact, was the usual style of his address to the old magistrate, + when in conversation with him. + </p> + <p> + “Damn the quack!” replied his master: “no, I didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “An' why didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “You're beginning this morning,” said the other, losing temper. “You had + better keep quiet, keep your distance, if you're wise—that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you, I ax,” continued Jemmy, walking up to him, with his hands + in his coat pocket, and looking coolly, but authoritatively in his face. + “I tell you, and if you don't know how to take care of yourself, I do, and + I will. I'm all that's left over you now; an' in spite of all I can do, + it's a purty account I'd be able to give of you, if I was called on.” + </p> + <p> + “This to my face!” exclaimed Dick—“this to my face, you villain!”—and, + as he spoke, the cane was brandished over Jemmy's head, as if it would + descend every moment. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” replied Jemmy, without budging, “ay, indeed—an' a purty face + it is—a nice face hard drinkin' an' a bad life has left you. Ah! do + it if you dare,” he added, as the other swung his staff once or twice, as + if about to lay it down in reality; “troth, if you do, I'll know how to + act.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you do, you old cancer—what would you do if I did?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, what you'll force me to do some day. I know you will, for heaven + an' earth couldn't stand you; an' if I do, it's not me you'll have to + blame for it. Ah, that same step you'll drive me to—I see that.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do, you old viper, that has been like a blister to me my + whole life—what will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Send you about your business,” replied Jemmy, coolly, but with all the + plenitude of authority in his manner; “send you from about the place, an' + then I'll have a quiet house. I'll send you to your youngest daughter's or + somewhere, or any where, out of this. So now that you know my + determination you had betther keep yourself cool, unless, indeed, you wish + to thravel. Oh, then heaven's above, but you wor a bitther sight to me, + an' but it was the unlucky day that ever the divil druv you acrass me!” + </p> + <p> + “Dick,” said the father, “as soon as you go into the office, write a + discharge, as bad a one, for that old vagabond, as the English language + can enable you to do—for by the light of heaven, he shan't sleep + another night under this roof.” + </p> + <p> + “Shan't I?—we'll see that, though. To the divil I pitch yourself an' + your discharge—an' now mark my words: I'll be no longer throubled + wid you; you've been all my life a torment and a heart-break to me—a + blister of French flies was swan's down, compared to you, but by the book, + I'll end it at last—ay, will I—I give you up—I + surrendher you as a bad bargain—I wash my hands of you—This is + Tuesday mornin', God bless the day and the weather—an' woeful + weather it is—but sure it's betther than you desarve, an' I don't + doubt but it's you and the likes o' you that brings it on us! Ay, this is + Tuesday mornin', an' I now give you warnin' that on Saturday next, you'll + see the last o' me—an' don't think that this warnin' is like the + rest, or that I'll relint again, as I was foolish enough to do often + before. No—my mind's made up—an' indeed—” here his voice + sank to a great calmness and philosophy, like a man who was above all + human passion, and who could consequently talk in a voice of cool and + quiet determination;—“An' indeed,” he added, “my conscience was + urgin' me to this for some time past—so that I'm glad things has + taken this turn.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you'll keep your word, then,” said his master, “but before you go, + listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to you—to be sure I will; God forbid I wouldn't; let there + be nothing at any rate, but civility between us while we're together. What + is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You asked me last night to let widow Leary's cow out o' pound?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, did I!” + </p> + <p> + “And I swore I wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you did. Who would doubt that, at any rate?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, before you leave us, be off now, and let the animal out o' the + pound.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that it? Oh, God help you! what'll you do when you'll be left to + yourself, as you will be on Saturday next? Let her out, says you. Troth, + the poor woman had her cow safe and sound at home wid her before she went + to bed last night, and her poor childre had her milk to kitchen their + praties, the craythurs. Do you think I'd let her stay in till the maggot + bit you? Oh, ay, indeed! In the mane time, as soon as you are done + breakfast, I want you in the study, to put the bindage on that ould, + good-for-nothin' leg o' yours; an' mark my words, let there be no shirkin' + now, for on it must go, an' will, too. If I see that Hanlon, I'll tell him + you want to see him, Master Richard; an' now that I'm on it, I had betther + say a word to you before I go; bekaise when I do go, you'll have no one to + guide you, God help you, or to set you a Christian patthern. You see that + man sittin' there wid that bad leg, stretched out upon the chair?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, Jemmy—ha, ha, ha! Well, what next?” + </p> + <p> + “That man was the worst patthern ever you had. In the word, don't folly + his example in anything—in any one single thing, an' then there may + be some chance o' you still. I'll want you by-an'-by in the study, I tould + you.” + </p> + <p> + These last words were addressed to his master, at whom he looked as one + might be supposed to do at a man whose case, in a moral sense, was + hopeless; after which, having uttered a groan that seemed to imitate the + woeful affliction he was doomed, day by day, to suffer, he left the room. + </p> + <p> + It is not our intention, neither is it necessary that we should enter into + the particulars of the interview which Hanlon had that morning with young + Dick. It is merely sufficient to state that they had a private + conversation in the old magistrate's office, at which the female whom + Hanlon had visited the night before was present. When this was concluded, + Hanlon walked with her a part of the way, evidently holding serious and + interesting discourse touching a subject which we may presume bore upon + the extraordinary proceedings of the previous night. He closed by giving + her directions how to proceed on her journey; for it seemed that she was + unacquainted with the way, being, like himself, but a stranger in the + neighborhood:—“You will go on,” said he, “till you reach the height + at Aughindrummon, from that you will see the trees at the Rabbit Bank + undher you; then keep the road straight till you come to where it crosses + the ford of the river: a little on this side, and where the road turns to + your right, you will find the Grey Stone, an' jist opposite that you will + see the miserable cabin where the Black Prophet lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do they call him the Black Prophet?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly, they tell me, from his appearance, an' partly bekaise he takes + delight in prophesyin' evil.” + </p> + <p> + “But could he have anything to do wid the murdher?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinkin' about that,” he replied, “and had some talk this mornin' + wid a man that's livin' a long time—indeed that was born—a + little above the place—and he says that the Black Prophet, or + M'Gowan, did not come to the neighborhood till afther the murdher. I + wasn't myself cool enough last night to ask his daughter many questions + about it; an' I was afraid, besides, to appear over-anxious in the + business. So now that you have your instructions in that and the other + matthers, you'll manage every thing as well as you can.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon then returned to the Grange, and the female proceeded on her + mission to the house, if house it could be called, of the Black Prophet, + for the purpose, if possible, of collecting such circumstances as might + tend to throw light upon a dark and mysterious murder. + </p> + <p> + When Sarah left her father, after having poulticed his face, to go a + kailley, as she said, to a neighbor's house, she crossed the ford of the + river, and was proceeding in the same directions that had been taken by + Hanlon the preceding night, when she met a strange woman, or rather she + found her standing, apparently waiting for herself, at the Grey Stone. + From the position of the stone, which was a huge one, under one ledge of + which, by the way, there grew a little clump of dwarf elder, it was + impossible that Sarah could pass her, without coming in tolerable close + contact; for the road was an old and narrow one, though perfectly open and + without hedge or ditch on either side of it. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you could tell me, young woman, whereabouts here a man lives that + they call Donnel Dhu, or the Black Prophet; his real name is M'Gowan, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be able to tell you, at any rate,” replied Sarah; “I'm his + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + The strange woman, on surveying Sarah more closely, looked as if she never + intended to remove her eyes from her countenance and figure. She seemed + for a moment, as it were, to forget every other object in life—her + previous conversation with Hanlon—the message on which she had been + sent—and her anxiety to throw light upon the awful crime that had + been committed at the spot whereon she stood. At length she sighed deeply, + and appeared to recover her presence of mind, and to break through the + abstraction in which she had been wrapped. “You're his daughter, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I do say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know a young man by name Pierce—och, what am I sayin'!—by + name Charley Hanlon?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do—I'm not ashamed of knowin' Charles Hanlon.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a good opinion of him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a good opinion of him, but not so good as I had thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Mush a why then, might one ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afeard he's a cowardly crathur, and rather unmanly a thrifle. I like + a man to be a man, an' not to get as white as a sheet, an' cowld as a + tombstone, bekaise he hears what he thinks to be a groan at night, an' it + may be nothin' but an owld cow behind a ditch. Ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “An' where did he hear the groan?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, here where we're standin'. Ha! ha! ha! I was thinkin' of it since, + an' I did hear somethin' very like a groan; but what about it? Sich a + night as last night would make any one groan that had a groan in them.” + </p> + <p> + “You spoke about ditches, but sure there's no ditches here.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a matther—who cares what it was? What did you want wid my + father?” + </p> + <p> + “It was yourself that I wanted to see.” + </p> + <p> + “Faix, an' you've seen me, then, an' the full o' your eye you tuck out o' + me. You'll know me again, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your mother livin'?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “How long is she dead, do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not; I hardly remember anything about her. She died when I was a + young slip—a mere child, I believe. Still,” she proceeded, rather + slowly, musing and putting her beautiful and taper fingers to her chin—“I + think that I do remember—it's like a dhrame to me though, an' I + dunna but it is one—still it's like a dhrame to me, that I was wanst + in her arms, that I was cryin', an' that she kissed me—that she + kissed me! If she had lived, it's a different life maybe I'd lead an' a + different creature I'd be to-day, maybe, but I never had a mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Did your father marry a second time?” + </p> + <p> + “He did.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have a step-mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay have I.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she kind to you, an' do you like her?” + </p> + <p> + “Middlin'—she's not so bad—better than I deserve, I doubt; I'm + sorry for what I did to her; but then I have the divil's temper, an' have + no guide o' myself when it comes on me. I know whatever she may be to me, + I'm not the best step-daughter to her.” + </p> + <p> + The strange female was evidently much struck with the appearance and + singularly artless disposition of Sarah, as well as with her extraordinary + candor; and indeed no wonder; for as this neglected creature spoke, + especially with reference to her mother, her eyes flashed and softened + with an expression of brilliancy and tenderness that might be said to + resemble the sky at night, when the glowing corruscations of the Aurora + Borealis sweep over it like expanses of lightning, or fade away into those + dim but graceful undulations which fill the mind with a sense of such + softness and beauty. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” observed her companion, sighing and looking at her + affectionately, “how any step-mother could be harsh to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha! don't you, indeed? Faix, then, if you had me, maybe you + wouldn't think so—I'm nothin' but a born divil when the fit's on + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Charley Hanlon,” proceeded the strange woman, “bid me ax you for the ould + tobaccy-box you promised him last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but he promised me a handkerchy; have you got it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have,” replied the other, producing it; “but, then, I'm not to give it + to you, unless you give me the box for it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't the box now,” said Sarah, “how-and-ever, I'll get it for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that you can an' will?” inquired the other. + </p> + <p> + “I had it in my hand yesterday,” she said, “an' if it's to be had I'll get + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” observed the other mildly, “as soon as you get him the box, + he'll give you this handkerchy, but not till then.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” she exclaimed, kindling, “is that his bargain; does he think I'd + thrick him or cheat him?—hand it here.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” replied the other; “I'm only to give it to you when I get the + box.” + </p> + <p> + “Hand it here, I say,” returned Sarah, whose eyes flashed in a moment; + “it's Peggy Murray's rag, I suppose—hand it here, I bid you.” + </p> + <p> + The woman shook her head and replied, “I can't—not till you get the + box.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah replied not a word, but sprang at it, and in a minute had it in her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “I would tear it this minute into ribbons,” she exclaimed, with eyes of + fire and glowing cheeks, “and tramp it undher my feet too; only that I + want it to show her, that I may have the advantage over her.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sharp, fierce smile of triumph on her features as she spoke; + and altogether her face sparkled with singular animation and beauty. + </p> + <p> + “God bless me!” said the strange woman, looking at her with a wondering + yet serious expression of countenance; “I wanst knew a face like yours, + an' a temper the aiquil of it—at any rate, my good girl, you don't + pay much respect to a stranger. Is your stepmother at home?” + </p> + <p> + “She is not, but my father is; however, I don't think he'll see you now. + My stepmother's gone to Darby Skinadre, the meal-monger's.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' there.” + </p> + <p> + “An' if you see her,” replied the other, “you'll know her; a score on her + cheek—ha, ha, ha; an' when you see it, maybe you'll thank God that I + am not your step-daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there a family named Sullivan that lives not far from Skinadre's?” + </p> + <p> + “There is; Jerry Sullivan, it's his daughter that's the beauty—<i>Gra + Gal</i> Sullivan. Little she knows what's preparin' for her!” + </p> + <p> + “How am I to go to Skinadre's from this?” asked the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Up by that road there; any one will tell you as you go along.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear,” replied the woman, tenderly; “God bless you; you are a + wild girl, sure enough; but above all things, afore I go, don't forget the + box for—for—och, for—Charley Hanlon. God bless you, a <i>colleen + machree</i>, an' make you what you ought to be!” + </p> + <p> + Sarah, during many a long day, had not heard herself addressed in an + accent of kindness or affection; for it would be wrong to bestow upon the + rude attachment which her father entertained for her, or his surly mode of + expressing it, any term that could indicate tenderness, even in a remote + degree. She looked, therefore, at the woman earnestly, and as she did, her + whole manner changed to one of melancholy and kindness. A soft and benign + expression came like the dawn of breaking day over her features, her voice + fell into natural melody and sweetness, and, approaching her companion, + she took her hand and exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “May God bless you for them words! it's many a day since I heard the voice + o' kindness. I'll get the box, if it's to be had, if it was only for your + own sake.” + </p> + <p> + She then passed on to her neighbor's house, and the next appearance of her + companion was that in which the reader caught, a glimpse of her in the + house of Darby Skinadre, from which she followed Nelly M'Gowan and Mave + Sullivan with an appearance of such interest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — Meeting of Strangers—Mysterious Dialogue. + </h2> + <p> + <i>Gra Gal</i> Sullivan and the prophet's wife, having left the meal-shop, + proceeded in the direction of Aughamurran, evidently in close, and if one + could judge by their gestures, deeply important conversation. The strange + woman followed them at a distance, meditating, as might be perceived by + her hesitating manner, upon the most seasonable moment of addressing + either one or both, without seeming to interrupt or disturb their + dialogue. Although the actual purport of the topic they discussed could + not be known by a spectator, yet even to an ordinary observer, it was + clear that the elder female uttered something that was calculated to warn + or alarm the younger. + </p> + <p> + She raised her extended forefinger, looked earnestly into the face of her + companion, then upwards solemnly, and, clasping her hands with vehemence, + appeared to close her assertion by appealing to heaven in behalf of its + truth; the younger looked at her with wonder, seemed amazed, paused + suddenly on her step, raised her hands, and looked as if about to express + terror; but, checking herself, appeared as it were perplexed by + uncertainty and doubt. After this the elder woman seemed to confide some + secret or sorrow to the other, for she began to weep bitterly, and to + wring her hands as if with remorse, whilst her companion looked like one + who had been evidently transformed into an impersonation of pure and + artless sympathy. She caught the rough hand of the other—and, ere + she had proceeded very far in her narrative, a few tears of compassion + stole down her youthful cheek—after which she began to administer + consolation in a manner that was at once simple and touching. She pressed + the hand of the afflicted woman between hers, then wiped her eyes with her + own handkerchief, and soothed her with a natural softness of manner that + breathed at once of true tenderness and delicacy. + </p> + <p> + As soon as this affecting scene had been concluded, the strange woman + imperceptibly mended her pace, until her proximity occasioned them to look + at her with that feeling which prompts us to recognize the wish of a + person to address us, as it is often expressed, by an appearance of + mingled anxiety and diffidence, when they approach us. At length Mave + Sullivan spoke— + </p> + <p> + “Who is that strange woman that is followin' us, an' wants to say + something, if one can judge by her looks?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know,” replied Nelly; “but whatsomever it may be, she + wishes to speak to you or me, no doubt of it.” + </p> + <p> + “She looks like a poor woman,'”* said Mave, “an' yet she didn't ask + anything in Skinadre's, barring a drink of water; but, God pity her if + she's comin' to us for relief poor creature! At any rate, she appears to + have care and distress in her face; I'll spake to her.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * A common and compassionate name for a person forced + to ask alms. +</pre> + <p> + She then beckoned the female to approach them, who did so; but they could + perceive as she advanced, that they had been mistaken in supposing her to + be one of those unhappy beings whom the prevailing famine had driven to + mendicancy. There was visible in her face a feeling of care and anxiety + certainly, but none of that supplicating expression which is at once + recognized as the characteristic of the wretched class to which they + supposed her to belong. This circumstance particularly embarrassed the + inexperienced girl, whose gentle heart at the moment sympathized with the + stranger's anxieties, whatever they may have been, and she hesitated a + little, when the woman approached, in addressing her. At length she spoke: + </p> + <p> + “We wor jist sayin' to one another,” she observed, “that it looked as if + you wished to spake to either this woman or me.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right enough, then,” she replied; “I have something to say to her, + and a single word to yourself, too.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what is it you have to say to me?” asked Nelly; “I hope it isn't to + borrow money from me, bekase if it is, my banker has failed, an' left me + as poor as a church mouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in distress, poor woman,” inquired the generous and kind-hearted + girl. “Maybe you're hungry; it isn't much we can do for you; but little as + it is, if you come home with me, you'll come to a family that won't + scruple to share the little they have now with any one that's worse off + than themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you may well say 'now,'” observed the prophet's wife; “for until now, + it's they that could always afford it; an' indeed it was the ready an' the + willin' bit was ever at your father's table.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger looked upon the serene and beautiful features of Mave with a + long gaze of interest and admiration; after which she added, with a sigh: + </p> + <p> + “And you, I believe, are the girl they talk so much about for the fair + face and good heart? Little pinetration it takes to see that you have + both, my sweet girl. If I don't mistake, your name is Mave Sullivan, or <i>Gra + Gal</i>, as the people mostly call you.” + </p> + <p> + Mave, whose natural delicacy was tender and pure as the dew-drop of + morning, on hearing her praises thus uttered by the lips of a stranger, + blushed so deeply, that her whole neck and face became suffused with that + delicious crimson of modesty which, alas! is now of such rare occurrence + among the sex, unconscious that, in doing so, she was adding fresh + testimony to the impressions which had gone so generally abroad of her + extraordinary beauty, and the many unostentatious virtues which adorned + her humble life. + </p> + <p> + “Mave Sullivan is my name,” she replied, smiling through her blushes: “as + to the nickname, the people will call one what they like, no matther + whether it's right or wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “The people's seldom wrong, then, in givin' names o' the kind,” returned + the stranger; “but in your case, they're right at all events, as any one + may know that looks upon you: that sweet face an' them fair looks is + seldom if ever found with a bad heart. May God guard you, my purty and + innocent girl, an' keep you safe from all evil, I pray his holy name.” + </p> + <p> + The prophet's wife and Mave exchanged looks as the woman spoke: and the + latter said: + </p> + <p> + “I hope you don't think there's any evil before me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is there,” replied the stranger, “that can say there's not? Sure it's + before us and about us every hour in the day; but in your case, darlin', I + jist say, be on your guard, an' don't trust or put belief in any one that + you don't know well. That's all I can say, an' indeed all I know.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel thankful to you,” replied Mave; “and now that you wish me well, + (for I'm sure you do,) maybe you'd grant me a favor?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is widin the bounds of my power, I'll do it,” returned the other; + “but it's little I can do, God help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nelly,” said Mave, “will you go on to the cross-roads there, an' I'll be + with you in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + The cross-roads alluded to were only a couple of hundred yards before + them. The prophet's wife proceeded, and Mave renewed the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “What I want you to do for me is this—that is if you can do it—maybe + you could bring a couple of stones of meal to a family of the name of—of—” + here she blushed again, and her confusion became so evident that she felt + it impossible to proceed until she had recovered in some degree her + composure. “Only two or three years agone,” she continued, “they were the + daicentest farmers in the parish; but the world went against them as it + has of late a'most against every one, owing to the fall of prices, and now + they're out of their farm, very much reduced, and there's sickness amongst + them, as well as want. They've been living,” she proceeded, wiping away + the tears which were now fast flowing, “in a kind of cabin or little + cottage not far from the fine house an' place that was not long ago their + own. Their name,” she added, after a pause in which it was quite evident + that she struggled strongly with her feelings, “is—is—Dal-ton.” + </p> + <p> + “O was the young fellow one of them,” asked the woman, “that was so + outrageous awhile ago in the miser's? I think I heard the name given to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have nothing to say for him,” replied Mave; “he was always wild, + but they say never bad-hearted; it's the rest of the family I'm thinking + about—and even that young man isn't more than three or four days up + out o' the fever. What I want you to do is to bring the male I'm spakin' + of to that family; any one will show you their little place; an' to leave + it there about dusk this evenin', so that no one will ever know that you + do it; an' as you love God an' hope for mercy, don't breathe my name in + the business at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do it for you,” replied the other; “but in the meantime where am I + to get the meal?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, at the miser's,” replied Mave; “and when you go there, tell him that + the person who told him they wouldn't forget it to him, sent you for it, + an' you'll get it.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid I refused you that much,” said the stranger; “an' although + it'll keep me out longer than I expected, still I'll manage it for you, + an' come or go what will, widout mentioning your name.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you for that,” said Mave, “an grant that you may never be + brought to the same hard pass that they're in, and keep you from ever + having a heavy or a sorrowful heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, <i>acushla oge</i>,” replied the woman with a profound sigh, “that + prayer's too late for me; anything else than a heavy and sorrowful heart + I've seldom had: for the last twenty years and upwards little but care and + sorrow has been upon me. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, one might easily guess as much,” said Mave, “you have a look of + heart-break and sorrow, sure enough. But answer me this: how do you know + that there's evil before me or, about me?' + </p> + <p> + “I don't know much about it,” returned the other; “but I'm afeard there's + something to your disadvantage planned or plannin' against you. When I + seen you awhile ago I didn't know you till I heard your name; I'm a + stranger here, not two weeks in the neighborhood, and know hardly anybody + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Mave, who had fallen back upon her own position, and the + danger alluded to by the stranger, “I'll do nothing that's wrong myself, + and if there's danger about me, as I hear there is, it's a good thing to + know that God can guard me in spite of all that any one can do against + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let that be your principle, ahagur—sooner or latter the hand o' God + can and will make everything clear, and after all, dear, he is the best + protection, blessed be his name!” + </p> + <p> + They had now reached the cross-roads already spoken of, where the + prophet's wife again joined them for a short time, previous to her + separation from Mave, whose way from that point lay in a direction + opposite to theirs. + </p> + <p> + “This woman,” said Mave, “wishes to go to Condy Dalton's in the course of + the evening, and you, Nelly, can show her from the road the poor place + they now live in, God help them.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” replied the other, “an' the house where they did live when + they wor as themselves, full, an' warm, an' daicent; an' it is a hard case + on them, God knows, to be turned out like beggars from a farm that they + spent hundreds on, and to be forced to see the landlord, ould Dick o' the + Grange, now settin' it at a higher rent and putting into his own pocket + the money they had laid out upon improvin' it an' makin' it valuable for + him and his; troth, it's open robbery an' nothin' else.” + </p> + <p> + “It in a hard case upon them, as every body allows,” said Mave, “but it's + over now, and can't be helped. Good-bye, Nelly, an' God bless you; an' God + bless you too,” she added, addressing the strange woman, whose hand she + shook and pressed. “You are a great deal oulder than I am, an' as I said, + every one may read care an' sorrow upon your face. Mine doesn't show it + yet, I know, but for all that the heart within me is full of both, an' no + likelihood of its ever bein' otherwise with me.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, the tears again gushed down her cheeks; but she checked her + grief by an effort, and after a second hurried good-bye, she proceeded on + her way home. + </p> + <p> + “That seems a mild girl,” said the strange woman, “as she is a lovely + creature to look at.” + </p> + <p> + “She's better than she looks,” returned the prophet's wife, “an' that's a + great deal to say for her.” + </p> + <p> + “That's but truth,” replied the stranger, “and I believe it; for indeed + she has goodness in her face.” + </p> + <p> + “She has and in her heart,” replied Nelly; “no wondher, indeed, that every + one calls her the <i>Gra Gal</i>, for it's she that well deserves it. I + You are bound for Condy Dalton's, then?” she added, inquiringly. “I am,” + said the other. “I think you must be a stranger in the country, otherwise + I'd know your face,” continued Nelly—“but maybe you're a relation of + theirs.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a stranger,” said the other; “but no relation.” + </p> + <p> + “The Daltons,” proceeded Nelly, “are daicent people,—but hot and + hasty, as the savin' is. It's the blow before the word wid them always.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, tut they say,” returned her companion, “that a hasty heart was never + a bad one.” + </p> + <p> + “Many a piece o' nonsense they say as well as that,” rejoined Nelly; “I + know them that 'ud put a knife into your heart hastily enough—ay, + an' give you a hasty death, into the bargain. They'll first break your + head—cut you to the skull, and then, indeed, they'll give you a + plaisther. That was ever an' always the carrecther of the same Daltons; + an', if all accounts be thrue, the hand of God is upon them, an' will be + upon them till the bloody deed is brought to light.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” inquired the other, with intense interest, whilst her eyes + became riveted upon Nelly's hard features. + </p> + <p> + “Why, a murdher that was committed betther than twenty years ago in this + neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “A murdher!” exclaimed the stranger. “Where?—when?—how?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you where, an' I can tell you when,” replied Nelly; “but there + I must stop—for unless I was at the committin' of it, you might know + very well I couldn't tell you how.” + </p> + <p> + “Where then?” she asked, and whilst she did so, it was by a considerable + effort that she struggled to prevent her agitation from being noticed by + the prophet's wife. + </p> + <p> + “Why, near the Grey Stone at the crossroads of Mallybenagh—that's + the where!” + </p> + <p> + “An' now for the when?” asked the stranger, who almost panted with anxiety + as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” replied Nelly, “fourteen and six makes twenty, an' two + before that or nearly—I mane the year of the rebellion, Why it's not + all out two-and-twenty years, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Aisey,” said the other, “I'm but very weak an' feeble—will you jist + wait till I rest a minute upon this green bank by the road.” + </p> + <p> + “What ails you?” asked Nelly. “You look as if you got suddenly ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I did get a little—but it'll soon pass away,” she answered—“thrue + enough,” she added in a low voice, and as if in a soliloquy; “God is a + just Judge—he is—he is! Well, but—oh, I'll soon get + better—well, but listen, what became of the murdhered man?—was + the body ever got?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knows that—the body was never got—that is to say + nobody knows where it's now lyin', snug enough too.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” thought the stranger, eying her furtively—“snug enough!—there's + more knowledge where that came from. What do you mane by snug enough?” she + asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Mane!” replied the other, who at once perceived the force of the + unguarded expression she had used;—“mane, why what could I mane, but + that whoever did the deed, hid the body where very few would be likely to + find it.” + </p> + <p> + Her companion now stood up, and approaching the prophet's wife, raised her + hand, and said in a tone that was both startling and emphatic— + </p> + <p> + “I met you this day as you may think, by accident; but take my word for + it, and, as sure as we must both account for our acts, it was the hand o' + God that brought us together. I now look into your face, and I tell you + that I see guilt and throuble there—ay, an' the dark work of a + conscience that's gnawin' your heart both night and day.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst speaking, she held her face within about a foot of Nelly's, into + which she looked with an expression so searching and dreadful in its + penetration, that the other shrunk back, and felt for a moment as if + subdued by a superior spirit. It was, however, only for a moment; the + sense of her subjection passed away, and she resumed that hard and + imperturbable manner, for which she had been all her life so remarkable, + unless, like Etna and Vesuvius, she burst out of this seeming coldness + into fire and passion. There, however, they stood looking sternly into + each others' faces, as if each felt anxious that the other should quail + before her gaze—the stranger, in order that her impressions might be + confirmed, and the prophet's wife, that she should, by the force of her + strong will, fling off those traces of inquietude which she knew very well + were often too legible in her countenance. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” said Nelly, “an' have only mistaken my face for a + lookin'-glass. It was your own you saw, all it was your own you wor + spaking of—for if ever I saw a face that publishes an ill-spent life + on the part of its owner, yours is it.” + </p> + <p> + “Care an' sorrow I have had,” replied the other, “an' the sin that causes + sorrow, I grant; but there's somethin' that's weighin' down your heart, + an' that won't let you rest until you give it up. You needn't deny it, for + you can't hide it—hard your eye is, but it's not clear, and I see + that it quivers, and is unaisy before mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I said you're mistaken,” replied the other; “but even supposin' you wor + not, how is it your business whether my mind is aisy or not? You won't + have my sins to answer for.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said the stranger; “and God sees my own account will be too + long and too heavy, I doubt. I now beg of you, as you hope to meet + judgment, to think of what I said. Look into your own heart, and it will + tell you whether I am right or whether I am wrong. Consult your husband, + and if he has any insight at all into futurity, he must tell you that, + unless you clear your conscience, you'll have a hard death-bed of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You're goin' to Condy Dalton's,” replied Nelly, with much coolness, but + whether assumed or not it is difficult to say; “look into his face, and + try what you can find there. At any rate, report has it that there's blood + upon his hand, an' that the downfall of himself and his family is only the + vengeance of God, an' the curse of murdher that's pursuin' him and them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” inquired the other, eagerly, “was he accused of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' taken up for it; but bekaise the body wasn't found, they could do + nothing to him.” + </p> + <p> + “May Heaven assist me!” exclaimed the stranger, “but this day is——however, + God's will be done, as it will be done! Are you goin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin',” replied Nelly; “by crossin' the fields here, I'll save a + great deal of ground; and when you get as far as the broken bridge, you'll + see a large farm-house widout any smoke from it; about a quarter of a mile + or less beyant that you'll find the house you're lookin' for—the + house where Condy Dalton lives.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus directed the stranger, the prophet's wife entered a gap that + led into a field, and proceeded on her way homewards, having, ere she + parted, glanced at her with a meaning which rendered it extremely + difficult to say whether the singular language addressed to her had left + behind it any such impression as the speaker wished to produce. Their + glances met and dwelt on each other for a short time: the strange woman + pointed solemnly towards the sky, and the prophet's wife smiled + carelessly; but yet, by a very keen eye, it might have been noticed that, + under this natural or affected indifference, there lurked a blank or + rather an unquiet expression, such as might intimate that something within + her had been moved by the observations of her strange companion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — The Black Prophet makes a Disclosure. + </h2> + <p> + The latter proceeded on her way home, having marked the miserable hovel of + Condy Dalton. At present our readers will accompany us once more to the + cabin of Donnel Dhu, the prophet. + </p> + <p> + His wife, as the reader knows, had been startled into something like + remorse, by the incidents which had occurred within the last two days, and + especially by the double discovery of the dead body and the Tobacco box. + Sarah, her step-daughter, was now grown, and she very reasonably + concluded, her residence in the same house with this fiery and violent + young female was next to an impossibility.—The woman herself was + naturally coarse and ignorant; but still there was mixed, up in her + character a kind of apathetic or indolent feeling of rectitude or vague + humanity, which rendered her liable to occasional visitations of + compunction for whatever she did that was wrong. The strongest principle + in her, however, was one which is frequently to be found among her class—I + mean such a lingering impression of religious feeling as is not + sufficiently strong to prevent the commission of crime, but yet is capable + by its influence to keep the conscience restless and uneasy under its + convictions. Whether to class this feeling with weakness or with virtue, + is indeed difficult; but to whichsoever of them it may belong, of one + thing we are certain, that many a mind, rude and hardened by guilt, is + weak or virtuous only on this single point. Persons so constituted are + always remarkable for feelings of strong superstition, and are easily + influenced by the occurrence of slight incidents, to which they are + certain to attribute a peculiar significance, especially when connected + with anything that may occasion them uneasiness for the time, or which may + happen to occupy their thoughts, or affect their own welfare or interests. + </p> + <p> + The reader need not be surprised, therefore, on learning that this woman, + with all her apathy of character on the general matters of life, was + accessible to the feeling or principle we have just described, nor that + the conversation she had just had with the strange woman, both disturbed + and alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + On returning, she found her husband and step-daughter both at home; the + latter hacking up some white thorn wood with an old hatchet, for the fire, + and the other sitting with his head bent gloomily upon his hand, as if + ruminating upon the vicissitudes of a troubled or ill-spent life. + </p> + <p> + Having deposited her burthen, she sat down, and drawing a long breath, + wiped her face with the corner of a blue praskeen which she always wore, + and this she did with a serious and stern face, intimating, as it were, + that her mind was engaged upon matters of deep interest, whatever they + might have been. + </p> + <p> + “What's that you're doin'?” she inquired of Sarah, in a grave, sharp + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Have you no eyes?” replied the other; “don't you see what I am doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get them white thorns that you're cuttin' up?” + </p> + <p> + “Where did I get them, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; I said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where they grew—ha, ha, ha! There's information for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God help you! how do you expect to get through life at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as well as I can—although not, maybe, as well as I wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you cut them thorns, I ax?” + </p> + <p> + “An' I tould you; but since that won't satisfy you, I cut them on the <i>Rath</i> + above there.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven presarve us, you hardened jade, have you no fear of anything about + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a much that I know of, sure enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you know that them thorns belongs to the fairies, and that some + evil will betide any one that touches or injures a single branch o' them.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a single branch I injured,” replied Sarah, laughing; “I cut down + the whole tree at wanst.” + </p> + <p> + “My sowl to glory, if I think its safe to live in the house wid you, you + hardened divil.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, I think you may well say so, afther yesterday's escape,” returned + Sarah; “an' I have no objection that you should go to glory, body an' + soul; an' a purty piece o goods will be in glory when you're there—ha, + ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Throw out them thorns, I bid you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? Don't we want them for the fire?” + </p> + <p> + “No matther for that; we don't want to bring 'the good people'—this + day's Thursday, the Lord stand between us an' harm—amin!—about + our ears. Out wid them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, the sorra branch.” + </p> + <p> + “Out wid them, I say, Are you afeard of neither God nor the divil?” + </p> + <p> + “Not overburdened with much fear of either o' them,” replied the daring + young creature. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you afeard o' the good people, then?” + </p> + <p> + “If they're good people, why should we be afeard o' them? No, I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + “Put the thorns out, I bid you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a chip, mother dear; if your own evil conscience or your dirty + cowardice makes you afeard o' the fairies, don't think I am. I don't care + that about them. These same thorns must boil the dinner in spite of all + the fairies in Europe; so don't fret either yourself or me on the head o' + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see what's to come! There's a doom over this house, that's all, an' + over some, if not all o' them that's in it. Everything's leadin' to it; + an' come it will.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, mother, dear, at this rate you'll leave my father nothin' to say. + You're keepin' all the black prophecies to yourself. Why don't you rise + up, man alive,” she added, turning to him, “and let her hear how much of + the divil's lingo you can give?—It's hard, if you can't prophesy as + much evil as she can. Shake yourself, ruffle your feathers, or clap your + wings three times, in the divil's name, an' tell her she'll be hanged; or, + if you wish to soften it, say she'll go to Heaven in a string. Ha, ha, + ha!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, a poor, famine-struck looking woman, with three or four + children, the very pictures of starvation and misery, came to the door, + and, in that voice of terrible destitution, which rings feeble and hollow + from an empty and exhausted frame, she implored them for some food. + </p> + <p> + “We haven't it for you, honest woman,” said Nelly, in her cold, + indifferent voice—“it's not for you now.” + </p> + <p> + The hope of relief was nearly destroyed by the unfeeling tones of the + voice in which she was answered. She looked, however, at her famishing + children, and once more returned to the door, after having gone a few + steps from it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what will become of these?” she added, pointing to the children. “I + don't care about myself—I think my cares will soon be over.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the divil out o' that!” shouted the prophet—“don't be + tormentin' us wid yourself and your brats.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you hear already,” repeated his wife, “that you got your answer? + We're poor ourselves, and we can't help every one that comes to us. It's + not for you now.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you hear that there's nothing for you?” again cried the prophet, in + an angry voice; “yet you'll be botherin' us!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, we haven't it, good woman,” repeated Nelly; “so take your + answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know that's a lie?” said Sarah, addressing her step-mother. + “You have it, if you wish to give it.” + </p> + <p> + “What's a lie?” said her father, starting, for he had again relapsed into + his moodiness. “What's a lie?—who—who's a liar?” + </p> + <p> + “You are!” she replied, looking him coolly and contemptuously in the face; + “you tell the poor woman that there's nothing for her. Don't you know + that's a lie? It may be very well to tell a lie to them that can bear it—to + a rich bodagh, or his proud lady of a wife—although it's a mean + thing even to them; but to tell a lie to that heartbroken woman and her + poor childhre—her childhre—aren't they her own?—an' who + would spake for them if she wouldn't. If every one treated the poor that + way, what would become of them? Ay, to look in her face, where there's + want an' hunger, and answer distress wid a lie—it's cruel—cruel!” + </p> + <p> + “What a kind-hearted creature she is,” said her step-mother, looking + towards her father—“isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Come here, poor woman,” said Sarah, calling her back; “it is for you. If + these two choose to let you and your childhre die or starve, I won't;” and + she went to the meal to serve them as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + The woman returned, and looked with considerable surprise at her; but + Nelly went also to the meal, and was about to interpose, when Sarah's + frame became excited, and her eyes flashed, as they always did when in a + state of passion. + </p> + <p> + “If you're wise, don't prevent me,” she said. “Help these creatures I + will. I'm your match now, an' more than your match, thank God; so be + quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “If I was to die for it, you won't have your will now, then,” said Nelly. + </p> + <p> + “Die when you like, then,” replied Sarah; “but help that poor woman an' + her childhre I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Fight it out,” said Donnel Dhu, “its a nice quarrel, although Sal has the + right on her side.” + </p> + <p> + “If you prevent me,” said she, disregarding her step-mother, “you'll rue + it quickly; or hould—I'm beginnin' to hate this kind of quarrellin'—here, + let her have as much meal as will make my supper; I'll do without any for + the sake of the childhre, this night.” + </p> + <p> + This was uttered in a tone of voice more mitigated, but at the same time + so resolute, that Nelly stepped back and left her to pursue her own + course. + </p> + <p> + She then took a wooden trencher, and with a liberal hand assisted the poor + creatures, who began to feel alarmed at the altercation which their + distress had occasioned in the family. + </p> + <p> + “You're starvin', childre,” said she, whilst emptying the meal into the + poor woman's bag. + </p> + <p> + “May the blessin' of God rest upon you,” whispered the woman, “you've + saved my orphans;” and, as she uttered the words, her hollow eyes filled, + and a few tears ran slowly down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Sarah gave a short, loud laugh, and snatching up the youngest of the + children, stroked its head and patted its cheek, exclaiming— + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing; you won't go without your supper this night, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + She then laughed again in the same quick, abrupt manner, and returned into + the house. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” said her step-mother, looking at her with mingled anger and + disdain, “is it tears you're sheddin'—cryin', no less! Afther that, + maricles will never cease.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah turned towards her hastily; the tears, in a moment, were dried upon + her cheeks, and as she looked at her hard, coarse, but well-shaped + features, her eyes shone with a brilliant and steady light for more than a + minute. The expression was at once; lofty and full of strong contempt, + and, as she stood in this singular but striking mood, it would indeed be + difficult to conceive a finer type of energy, feeling, and beauty, than + that which was embodied in her finely-turned and exquisite figure. Having + thus contemplated the old woman for some time, she looked upon the ground, + and her face passed rapidly into a new form and expression of beauty. It + at once became soft and full of melancholy, and might have been mistaken + for an impersonation of pity and sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she exclaimed, in a low voice, that was melody itself; “I never + got it from either the one or the other—the kind or soft word—an' + it's surely no wondher that I am as I am.” + </p> + <p> + And as she spoke she wept. Her heart had been touched by the distress of + her fellow creatures, and became, as it were, purified and made tender by + its own sympathies, and she wept. Both of them looked at her; but as they + were utterly incapable of understanding what she felt, this natural + struggle of a great but neglected spirit excited nothing on their part but + mere indifference. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the prophet, who seemed laboring under a fierce but gloomy + mood, rose suddenly up, and exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Nelly—Sarah!—I can bear this, no longer; the saicret must + come out. I am—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” screamed Sarah, “don't say it—don't say it! Let me leave the + counthry. Let me go somewhere—any where—let me—let me—die + first.” + </p> + <p> + “I am——,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” replied his wife; “a murdherer! I know it now—I knew it + since yesterday mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Give him justice,” said Sarah, now dreadfully excited, and seizing him by + the breast of his coat,—“give him common justice—give the man + justice, I say. You are my father, aren't you? Say how you did it. It was + a struggle—a fight; he opposed you—he did, and your blood riz, + and you stabbed him for fear he might stab you. That was it. Ha! ha! I + know it was, for you are my father, and I am your daughter; and that's + what I would do like a man. But you never did it—ah! you never did + it in cowld blood, or like a coward.” + </p> + <p> + There was something absolutely impressive and commanding in her sparkling + eyes, and the energetic tones of her voice, whilst she addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “Donnel,” said the wife, “it's no saicret to me; but it's enough now that + you've owned it. This is the last night that I'll spend with a murdherer. + You know what I've to answer for on my own account; and so, in the name of + God, we'll part in the mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” exclaimed Sarah, “you'd leave him now, would you? You'd desart him + now; now that all the world will turn against him; now that every tongue + will abuse him; that every heart will curse him; that every eye will turn + away from him with hatred; now that shame, an' disgrace, an' guilt is all + upon his head; you'd leave him, would you, and join the world against him? + Father, on my knees I go to you;” and she dropped down as she spoke; “here + on my knees I go to you, an' before you spake, mark, that through shame + an' pain, an' sufferin', an' death, I'll stay by you, an' with you. But, I + now kneel to you—what I hardly ever did to God—an for his + sake, for God's sake, I ask you; oh say, say that you did not kill the man + in cowld blood; that's all! Make me sure of that, and I'm happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you're both mad,” replied Donnel. “Did I say that I was a + murdherer? Why didn't you hear me out?” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't,” returned Nelly; “I knew it since yestherday mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “So you think,” he replied, “an' it's but nathural you should, I was at + the place this day, and seen where you dug the <i>Casharrawan</i>. I have + been strugglin' for years to keep this saicret, an' now it must come out; + but I'm not a murdherer.” + </p> + <p> + “What saicret, father, if you're not a murdherer?” asked Sarah; “what + saicret; but there is not murder on you; do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “I do say it; there's neither blood nor murdher on my head! but I know who + the murdherer is, an' I can keep the saicret no longer!” + </p> + <p> + Sarah laughed, and her eyes sparkled up with singular vividness. “That'll + do,” she exclaimed; “that'll do; all's right now; you're not a murdherer, + you killed no man, aither in cowld blood or otherwise; ha! ha! you're a + good father; you're a good father; I forgive you all now, all you ever + did.” + </p> + <p> + Nelly stood contemplating her husband with a serious, firm, but + dissatisfied look; her chin was supported upon her forefinger and thumb; + and instead of seeming relieved by the disclosure she had just heard, + which exonerated him from the charge of blood, she still kept her eyes + riveted upon him with a stern and incredulous aspect. + </p> + <p> + “Spake out, then,” she observed coolly, “an' tell us all, for I am not + convinced.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah looked as if she would have sprang at her. + </p> + <p> + “You are not convinced,” she exclaimed; “you are not convinced! Do you + think he'd tell a lie on such a subject as this?” But no sooner had she + uttered the words than she started as if seized by a spasm. “Ah, father,” + she exclaimed, “it's now your want of truth comes against you; but still, + still I believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us all about it,” said Nelly, coldly; “let us hear all.” + </p> + <p> + “But you both promise solemnly, in the sight of God, never to breathe this + to a human being till I give yez lave.” + </p> + <p> + “We do; we do,” replied Sarah; “in the sight of God, we do.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't spake,” said he, addressing Nelly. + </p> + <p> + “I promise it.” + </p> + <p> + “In the sight of God?” he added, “for I know you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” said she, “in the sight of God, since you must have it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said he, “the common report is right; the man that murdhered + him is Condy Dalton. I have kept it in till I can bear it no longer. It's + my intention to go to a magistrate's as soon as my face gets well. For + near two-and-twenty years, now, this saicret is lyin' hard upon me; but + I'll aise my mind, and let justice take it's coorse. Bad I have been, but + never so bad as to take my fellow-crature's life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad to hear it,” said his wife; “an' now I can undherstand + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm both glad and sorry,” exclaimed Sarah; “sorry for the sake of the + Daltons. Oh! who would suppose it! and what will become of them?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no peace,” her father added; “I have not had a minute's peace ever + since it happened; for sure, they say, any one that keeps their knowledge + of murdher saicret and won't tell it, is as bad as the murdherer himself. + There's another thing I have to mention,” he added, after a pause; “but + I'll wait for a day or two; it's a thing I lost, an', as the case stands + now, I can do nothing widout it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, father?” asked Sarah, with animation; “let us know what it + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Time enough yet,” he replied; “it'll do in a day or two; in the mean time + it's hard to tell but it may turn up somewhere or other; I hope it may; + for if it get into any hands but my own—” + </p> + <p> + He paused and bent his eyes with singular scrutiny first upon Sarah, who + had not the most distant appreciation of his meaning. Not so Nelly, who + felt convinced that the allusion he made was to the Tobacco-box, and her + impression being that it was mixed up in some way with an act of murder, + she determined to wait until he should explain himself at greater length + upon the subject. Had Sarah been aware of its importance, she would have + at once disclosed all she knew concerning it, together with Hanlon's + anxiety to get it into his possession. But of this she could know nothing, + and for that reason there existed no association, in her mind, to connect + it with the crime which the Prophet seemed resolved to bring to light. + </p> + <p> + When Donnel Dhu laid himself down upon the bed that day, he felt that by + no effort could he shake a strong impression of evil from off him. The + disappearance of the Box surprised him so much, that he resolved to stroll + out and examine a spot with which the reader is already acquainted. On + inspecting the newly-disturbed earth, he felt satisfied that the body had + been discovered, and this circumstance, joined with the disappearance of + the Tobacco-box, precipitated his determination to act as he was about to + do; or, perhaps altogether suggested the notion of taking such steps as + might bring Condy Dalton to justice. At present it is difficult to say why + he did not allude to the missing Box openly, but perhaps that may be + accounted for at a future and more appropriate stage of our narrative. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — Pity and Remorse. + </h2> + <p> + The public mind, though often obtuse and stupid in many matters, is in + others sometimes extremely acute and penetrating. For some years previous + to the time laid in our tale, the family of Condy Dalton began to decline + very perceptibly in their circumstances. There had been unpropitious + seasons; there had been failure of crops and disease among the cattle—and, + perhaps what was the worst scourge of all, there existed a bad landlord in + the person of Dick-o'-the-Grange. So long, however, as they continued + prosperous, their known principles of integrity and strict truth caused + them to be well spoken of and respected, in spite of the imputation which + had been made against them as touching the murder of Sullivan. In the + course of time, however, when the evidences of struggle succeeded those of + comfort and independence, the world began to perceive the just judgments + of God as manifested in the disasters which befel them, and which seemed + to visit them as with a judicial punishment. Year after year, as they sank + in the scale of poverty, did the almost forgotten murder assume a more + prominent and distinct shape in the public mind, until at length it became + too certain to be doubted, that the slow but sure finger of God's justice + was laid upon them as an additional proof that crime, however it may + escape the laws of men, cannot veil itself from the all-seeing eye of the + Almighty. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, an individual member of the family, whose piety and + many virtues excited a sympathy in her behalf, as general as it was deep + and compassionate. This was Mrs. Dalton, towards whom only one universal + impression of good-will, affection, and respect prevailed. Indeed, it + might be said that the whole family were popular in the country; but, + notwithstanding their respectability, both individually and collectively, + the shadow of crime was upon them; and as long as the people saw that + everything they put their hand to failed, and that a curse seemed to + pursue them, as if in attestation of the hidden murder, so long did the + feeling that God would yet vindicate His justice by their more signal + punishment, operate with dreadful force against them, with the single + exception we have mentioned. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton, on her return home from her unsuccessful visit to the + miser's, found her family in the same state of grievous privation in which + she had left them. 'Tis true she had not mentioned to any of them her + intention of appealing to the gratitude or humanity of Skinadre; yet they + knew, by an intuitive perception of her purpose, that she had gone to him, + and although their pride would not allow them to ask a favor directly from + him, yet they felt pleased that she had made the experiment, and had + little doubt that the miser, by obliging her in the request she went to + prefer, would gladly avail himself of the circumstance to regain their + good will, not so much on their own account, as for the sake of standing + well in the world, in whose opinion he knew he had suffered by his + treachery towards them in the matter of their farm. She found her husband + seated in an old arm-chair, which, having been an heir-loom in the family + for many a long year, had, with one or two other things, been purchased in + at the sheriff's sale. There was that chair, which had come down to them + from three or four generations; an old clock, some smaller matters, and a + grey sheep, the pet of a favorite daughter, who had been taken away from + them by decline during the preceding autumn. There are objects, otherwise + of little value, to which we cling for the sake of those unforgotten + affections, and old mournful associations that invest indifferent things + with a feeling of holiness and sorrow by which they are made sacred to the + heart. + </p> + <p> + Condy Dalton was a man tolerably well stricken in years; his face was + pale, but not unhealthy looking; and his hair, which rather flowed about + his shoulders, was almost snow white—a circumstance which, in this + case, was not attributed to the natural progress of years, but to that + cankered remorse which turns the head grey before its time. Their family + now consisted of two sons and two daughters, the original number having + been two sons and three daughters—one of the latter having fallen a + victim to decline, as we have already stated. The old man was sitting in + the arm-chair, in which he leant back, having his chin at the same time on + his breast, a position which gave something very peculiar to his + appearance. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Dalton had occupied a good deal of time in unsuccessfully seeking + for relief from other sources, it is unnecessary to say that the day had + now considerably advanced, and the heavy shadows of this dismal and + unhealthy evening had thrown their gloom over the aspect of all nature, to + which they gave an appearance of desolation that was in painful keeping + with the sickness and famine that so mercilessly scourged the kingdom at + large. A pot of water hung upon a dark slow fire, in order that as little + time as possible might be lost in relieving their physical wants, on Mrs. + Dalton's return with the relief which they expected. + </p> + <p> + “Here's my mother,” said one of her daughters, looking with a pale cheek + and languid eye out of the door; for she, too, had been visited by the + prevailing illness; “an', my God! she's comin' as she went—empty + handed!” + </p> + <p> + The other sister and Con, her brother, went also to look out, and there + she was, certainly without relief. + </p> + <p> + “She isn't able to carry it herself,” said their father; “or maybe she's + comin' to get one of you—Con, I suppose—to go for it. Bad as + Skinadre is, he wouldn't have the heart to refuse us a lock o' meal to + keep the life in us. Oh! no, he'd not do that.” + </p> + <p> + In a few moments Mrs. Dalton entered, and after looking upon the scene of + misery about her, she sat down and burst into tears. “Mother,” said the + daughter, “there's no relief, then? You came as you went, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “I came as I went, Nanty; but there is relief. There's relief for the poor + of this world in Heaven; but on this earth, an' in this world, there is + none for us—glory be to the name of God, still.” + </p> + <p> + “So Skinadre refused, then?” said her husband; “he wouldn't give the + meal?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “he would not; but the truth is, our woful' state is + now so well known, that nobody will trust us; they know there's no chance + of ever bein' paid, an' they all say they can't afford it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not surprised at what Tom says,” observed our friend, young Con, + “that the meal-mongers and strong farmers that keep the provisions up on + the poor desarves to be smashed and tramped under foot; an' indeed they'll + get it, too, before long, for the people can't stand this, especially when + one knows that there's enough, ay, and more than enough, in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “If had tobacco,” said the old man, “I didn't care—that would keep + the hunger off o' me; but it's poor Mary, here, now recoverin' from the + sickness, that I pity; don't cry, Mary, dear; come here, darlin', come + here, and turn up that ould creel, and sit down beside me. It's useless to + bid you not to cry, avourneen machree, bekaise we all know what you feel; + but you have one comfort—you are innocent—so are you all—there's + nothing on any of your minds—no dark thought to lie upon your heart—oh, + no, no; an' if it was only myself that was to suffer, I could bear it; but + to see them that's innocent sufferin' along wid me, is what kills me. This + is the hand of God that's upon us, an' that will be upon us, an' that has + been upon us, an' I knew it would be so; for ever since that black night, + the thought—the thought of what happened!—ay, it's that that's + in me, an' upon me—it's that that has put wrinkles in my cheek + before their time, an' that has made my hair white before its time, and + that has—” + </p> + <p> + “Con, dear,” observed his wife, “I never wished you to be talkin' of that + before them; sure you did as much as a man could do; you repented, an' + were sorry for it, an' what more could be expected from you?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, dear,” said Mary, drying, or struggling to dry her tears, “don't + think of me, or of any of us, nor don't think of anything that will + disturb your mind—don't think of the, at any rate—I'm very + weak, but I'm not so hungry as you may think; if I had one mouthful of + anything just to take this feelin' that I have inwardly, an' this weakness + away, I would be satisfied—that would do me; an' although I'm cryin' + it's more to see your misery, father dear, an' all your miseries, than for + what I'm sufferin' myself; but there's a kiss for you, it's all I have to + give you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, dear,” said her sister, smote to the heart by her words, “you're + sufferin' more than any of us, you an' my father,” and she encircled her + lovingly and mournfully in her arms as she spoke, and kissed her wan lips, + after which she went to the old man, and said in a voice of compassion and + consolation that was calculated to soothe any hearers— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father, dear, if you could only banish all uneasy thoughts from your + mind—if you could only throw that darkness that's so often over you, + off you, we could bear anything—anything—Oh, anything, if we + seen you aisy in your mind, an' happy!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton had dried her tears, and sat upon a low stool musing and + silent, and apparently revolving in her mind the best course to be pursued + under such circumstances. It was singular to observe the change that had + taken place in her appearance even within a few hours; the situation of + her family, and her want of success in procuring them food, had so broken + down her spirits and crushed her heart, that the lines of her face were + deepened and her features sharpened and impressed with the marks of + suffering as strongly as if they had been left there by the affliction of + years. Her son leant himself against a piece of the broken wall that + partially divided their hut into something like two rooms, if they could + be called so, and from time to time he glanced about him, now at his + father, then at his poor sisters, and again at his heart-broken mother, + with an impatient agony of spirit that could scarcely be conceived. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, clenching his hands and grinding his teeth, “it is + expected that people like us will sit tamely undher sich tratement as we + have resaved from Dick o' the Grange. Oh, if we had now the five hundre + good pounds that we spent upon our farm—spent, as it turned out, not + for ourselves, but to enable that ould villain of a landlord to set it to + Darby Skinadre; for I b'lieve it's he that's to get it, with strong + inthrest goin' into his pocket for all our improvements; if we had now,” + he continued, his passion rising, “if we had that five hundre pounds now, + or one hundre, or one pound, great God! ay, or one shillin' now, wouldn't + it save some of you from starving” + </p> + <p> + This reflection, which in the young man excited only wrath, occasioned the + female portion of the family to burst into fresh sorrow; not so the old + man; he arose hastily, and paced up and down the floor in a state of + gloomy indignation and fury which far transcended that of his son. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said he, “if I was a young man, as I was wanst—but the young + men now are poor, pitiful, cowardly—I would—I would;” he + paused suddenly, however, looked up, and clasping his hands, exclaimed—“forgive + me, O God! forgive the thought that was in my unhappy heart! Oh, no, no, + never, never allow yourself, Con, dear, to be carried away by anger, for + 'fraid you might do in one minute, or in a short fit of anger, what might + make you pass many a sleepless night, an' maybe banish the peace of God + from your heart forever!” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you for them last words, Condy!” exclaimed his wife, “that's + the way I wish you always to spake; but what to do, or where to go, or who + to turn to, unless to God himself, I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “We're come to it at last,” said their daughter Peggy; “little we thought + of it, but at all events, it's betther to do that than to do worse—betther + than to rob or steal, or do an ondaicent act of any kind. In the name of + God, then, rather than you should die of hunger, Mary—you an' my + father an' all of yez—I'll go out and beg from the neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg!” shouted the old man, with a look of rage—“beg!” he repeated, + starting to his feet and seizing his staff—“beg! you shameless and + disgraceful strap. Do you talk of a Dalton goin' out to bee? taka that!” + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke, he hit her over the arm with a stick he always carried. + </p> + <p> + “Now that will teach you to talk of beg-gin'. No!—die—die + first—die at wanst; but no beggin' for any one wid the blood of a + Dalton in their veins. Death—death—a thousand times sooner!” + </p> + <p> + “Father—oh! father, father, why, why did you do that?” exclaimed his + son, “to strike poor kind an' heart-broken Peggy, that would shed her + blood for you or any of us. Oh! father, I am sorry to see it.” + </p> + <p> + The sorrowing girl turned pale by the blow, and a few tears came down her + cheeks; but she thought not of herself, nor of her sufferings. After the + necessary pause caused by the pain, she ran to him, and, throwing her arms + about his neck, exclaimed in a gush of sorrow that was perfectly + heart-rending to witness— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! father dear, forgive me—your own poor Peggy; sure it was + chiefly on your account and Mary's I was goin' to do it. I won't go, then, + since you don't wish it; but I'll die with you.” + </p> + <p> + The old man flung the stick from him, and clasping her in his arms, he + sobbed and wept aloud. + </p> + <p> + “My darlin' child,” he exclaimed, “that never yet gave one of us a bad + word or angry look—will you forgive your unhappy father, that + doesn't know what he's doin'! Oh! I feel that this state we're in—this + outher desolation an' misery we're in—will drive me mad! but that + hasty blow, <i>avourneen machree</i>—that hasty blow an' the hot + temper that makes me give it, is my curse yet, has always been my curse, + an' ever will be my curse; it's that curse that's upon me now, an' upon + all of us this minute—it is, it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Condy,” said his wife, “we all know that you're not as bad as you make + yourself. Within the last few years your temper has been sorely tried, and + your heart too, God knows; for our trials and our downcome in this world + has been great. In all these trials, however, and sufferings, its a + consolation to us, that we never neglected to praise an' worship the + Almighty—we are now brought almost to the very last pass—let + us go to our knees, then, an' throw ourselves upon His mercy, and beg of + Him to support us, an' if it's His holy will, to aid us, and send us + relief.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mary dear,” exclaimed her husband, “but you are the valuable and + faithful wife! If ever woman was a protectin' angel to man, you wor to me. + Come children, in the name of the merciful God, let us kneel and pray.” + </p> + <p> + The bleak and depressing aspect of twilight had now settled down upon the + sweltering and deluged country, and the air was warm, thick, moist, and + consequently unhealthy. The cabin of the Daltons was placed in a low, damp + situation; but fortunately it was approached by a remnant of one of those + old roads or causeways which had once been peculiar to the remote parts of + the country, and also of very singular structure, the least stone in it + being considerably larger than a shilling loaf. This causeway was nearly + covered with grass, so that in addition to the antique and desolate + appearance which this circumstance gave it, the footsteps of a passenger + could scarcely be heard as they fell upon the thick close grass with which + its surface was mostly covered. + </p> + <p> + Along this causeway, then, at the very hour when the Daltons, moved by + that piety which is characteristic of our peasantry, had gone to prayer, + was the strange woman whom we have already noticed, proceeding with that + relief which it may be God in His goodness had ordained should reach them + in answer to the simple but trustful spirit of their supplications. On + reaching the miserable looking cabin, she paused, listened, and heard + their voices blend in those devout tones that always mark the utterance of + prayer among the people. They were, in fact, repeating a Rosary, and + surely, it is not for those who differ with them in creed, or for any one + who feel the influence of true charity, to quarrel with the form of + prayer, when the heart is moved as theirs were, by earnestness and humble + piety. + </p> + <p> + The strange woman on approaching the door more nearly, stood again for a + minute or two, having been struck more forcibly by something which gave a + touching and melancholy character to this simple act of domestic worship. + She observed, for instance, that their prayers were blended with many + sighs, and from time to time, a groan escaped from one of the males, which + indicated either deep remorse or a sense of some great misery. One of the + female voices, too, was so feeble as scarcely to be heard, yet there ran + through it, she felt, a spirit of such tender and lowly resignation, + mingled with such an expression of profound sorrow, as almost moved her to + tears. The door was open, and the light so dim, that she could not + distinctly see their persons—two circumstances which for a moment + induced her to try if it were possible to leave the meal there without + their knowledge. She determined otherwise, however, and as their prayers + were almost immediately concluded, she entered the house. The appearance + of a stranger in the dusky gloom carrying a burden, caused them to suppose + that it was some poor person coming to ask charity, or permission to stop + for the night. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this?” asked Condy. “Some poor person, I suppose, axin' charity,” + he added. “But God's will be done, we haven't it to give this many a long + day. Glory be to his name!” + </p> + <p> + “This is Condy Dalton's house?” said the strange woman in a tone of + inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Sich as it is, it's his house, an' the best he has, my poor creature. I + wish it was betther both for his sake and yours,” he replied, in a calm + and resigned voice, for his heart had been touched and solemnized by the + act of devotion which had just concluded. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton, in the meantime, had thrown a handful of straw on the fire to + make a temporary light. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said the stranger, “is a present of meal that a' friend sent you.” + </p> + <p> + “Meal!” exclaimed Peggy Dalton, with a faint scream of joy; “did you say + meal?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” replied the other; “a friend that heard of your present distress, + and thinks you don't desarve it, sent it to you.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton raised the burning straw, and looked for about half a minute + into her face, during which the woman carried the meal over and placed it + on the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “I met you to-day, I think,” said Mrs. Dalton, “along with Donnel Dhu's + wife on your way to Darby Skinadre's?” + </p> + <p> + “You might,” replied the woman; “for I went there part o' the road with + her.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are we indebted to for the present?” she asked again. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not at liberty to say,” replied the other; “barrin' that it's from a + friend and well-wisher.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton clasped her hands, and looking with an appearance of + abstraction, on the straw as it burned in the fire, said in a voice that + became infirm by emotion— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know it; it can be no other. The friend that she speaks of is the + girl—the blessed girl—whose goodness is in every one's mouth—<i>Gra + Gal</i> Sullivan. I know it, I feel it.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the woman, “I must go; but before I go, I wish to look on the + face of Condy Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a bit of rush on the shelf there,” said Mrs. Dalton to one of her + daughters; “bring it over and light it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl did so, and the strange woman, taking the little taper in her + hand, approached Dalton, and looking with a gaze almost fearfully solemn + and searching into his face. + </p> + <p> + “You are Condy Dalton?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me now,” she proceeded, “as if you were in the presence of God at + judgment, are you happy?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton, who felt anxious for many reasons, to relieve her unfortunate + husband from this unexpected and extraordinary catechist, hastened to + reply for him. + </p> + <p> + “How, honest woman, could a man be happy who is in a state of such + destitution, or who has had such misfortunes as he has had;” and as she + spoke her eyes filled with tears of compassion for her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Don't break it upon me,” said the woman, solemnly, “but let me ax my + question, an' let him give his answer. In God's name and presence, are you + a happy man?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't speak a lie to that, for I must yet meet my judge—I am + not.” + </p> + <p> + “You have one particular thought that makes you unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “I have one particular thought that makes me unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has it made you unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + “For near two-and-twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough,” she replied; “God's hand is in it all—I must now + go. I have done what I was axed to do; but there's a higher will at work. + Honest woman,” she added, addressing Mrs. Dalton, “I wish you and your + childre good night!” + </p> + <p> + The moment she went they almost ceased to think of her. The pot still hung + on the fire, and little time was lost in preparing a meal of food. + </p> + <p> + From the moment <i>Gra Gal</i> Sullivan's name was mentioned, the whole + family observed that young Con started and appeared to become all at once + deeply agitated; he walked backwards and forwards—sat down—and + rose up—applied his hands to his forehead—appeared sometimes + flushed, and again pale—and altogether seemed in a state which it + was difficult to understand. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you, Con?” asked his mother, “you seem dreadfully + uneasy.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ill, mother,” he replied—“the fever that was near taking Tom + away, is upon me; I feel that I have it by the pains that's in my head and + the small o' my back.” + </p> + <p> + “Lie down a little, dear,” she added, “its only the pain, poor boy, of an + empty stomach—lie down on your poor bed, God help you, and when the + supper's ready you'll be better.” + </p> + <p> + “It's her,” he replied—“it's her—I know it”—and as he + uttered the words, touched by her generosity, and the consciousness of his + own poverty, he wept bitterly, and then repaired to his miserable bed, + where he stretched himself in pain and sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Con,” said his wife, in a tone of consolation and encouragement, + “will you ever despair of God's mercy, or doubt his goodness, after what + has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm an unhappy man, Nancy,” he replied, “but it never went to that with + me, thank God—but where is that poor wild boy of ours, Tom,—oh, + where is he now, till he gets one meal's mate?” + </p> + <p> + “He is up at the Murtaghs,” said his sister, “an' I had better fetch him + home; I think the poor fellow's almost out of his senses since Peggy + Murtagh's death—that an' the dregs of the fever has him that he + doesn't know what he's doin', God help him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — Famine, Death, and Sorrow. + </h2> + <p> + It has never been our disposition, either in the living life we lead, or + in the fictions, humble and imperfect as they are, which owe their + existence to our imagination, to lay too heavy a hand upon human frailty, + any more than it has been to countenance or palliate vice, whether open or + hypocritical. Peggy Murtagh, with whose offence and death the reader is + already acquainted, was an innocent and affectionate girl, whose heart was + full of kind, generous, and amiable feelings. She was very young, and very + artless, and loved not wisely but too well; while he who was the author of + her sin, was nearly as young and artless as herself, and loved her with a + first affection. She was, in fact, one of those gentle, timid, and + confiding creatures who suspect not evil in others, and are full of + sweetness and kindness to every one. Never did there live—with the + exception of her offence—a tenderer daughter, or a more affectionate + sister than poor Peggy, and for this reason, the regret was both sincere + and general, which was felt for her great misfortune. Poor girl! she was + but a short time released from her early sorrows, when her babe followed + her, we trust, to a better world, where the tears were wiped from her + eyes, and the weary one got rest. + </p> + <p> + The scene in her father's house on this melancholy night, was such as few + hearts could bear unmoved, as well on account of her parents' grief, as + because it may be looked upon as a truthful exponent both of the + destitution of the country, and of the virtues and sympathies of our + people. + </p> + <p> + Stretched upon a clean bed in the only room that was off the kitchen, lay + the fair but lifeless form of poor Peggy Murtagh. The bed was, as is + usual, hung with white, which was simply festooned about the posts and + canopy, and the coverlid was also of the same spotless color, as were the + death clothes in which she was laid out. To those who are beautiful—and + poor Peggy had possessed that frequently fatal gift—death in its + first stage, bestows an expression of mournful tenderness that softens + while it solemnizes the heart. In her case there was depicted all the + innocence and artlessness that characterized her brief and otherwise + spotless life. Over this melancholy sweetness lay a shadow that manifested + her early suffering and sorrow, made still more touching by the presence + of an expression which was felt by the spectator to have been that of + repentance. Her rich auburn hair was simply divided on her pale forehead, + and it was impossible to contemplate the sorrow and serenity which blended + into each other upon her young brow, without feeling that death should + disarm us of our resentments, and teach us a lesson of pity and + forgiveness to our poor fellow-creatures, who, whatever may have been + their errors, will never more offend either God or man. Her extreme + youthfulness was touching in the highest degree, and to the simplicity of + her beauty was added that unbroken stillness which gives to the lifeless + face of youth the only charm that death has to bestow, while it fills the + heart I to its utmost depths with the awful conviction that that is the + slumber which no human care nor anxious passion shall ever break, The + babe, thin and pallid, from the affliction of its young and unfortunate + mother, could hardly be looked, upon, in consequence of its position, + without tears. They had placed it by her side, but within her arm, so that + by this touching arrangement all the brooding tenderness of the mother's + love seemed to survive and overcome the power of death itself. There they + lay, victims of sin, but emblems of innocence, and where is the heart that + shall, in the inhumanity of its justice, dare to follow them out of life, + and disturb the peace they now enjoy by the heartless sentence of + unforgiveness? + </p> + <p> + It was, indeed, a melancholy scene. The neighbors having heard of her + unexpected death, came to the house, as is customary, to render every + assistance in their power to the bereaved old couple, who were now left + childless. And here too, might we read the sorrowful impress of the famine + and illness which desolated the land. The groups around the poor departed + one were marked with such a thin and haggard expression as general + destitution always is certain to leave behind it. The skin of those who, + with better health and feeding, had been fair and glossy as ivory, was now + wan and flaccid;—the long bones of others projected sharply, and as + it were offensively to the feelings of the spectators—the + over-lapping garments hung loosely about the wasted and feeble person, and + there was in the eyes of all a dull and languid motion, as if they turned + in their socket by an effort. They were all mostly marked also by what + appeared to be a feeling of painful abstraction, which, in fact, was + nothing else than that abiding desire for necessary food, which in seasons + of famine keeps perpetually gnawing, as they term it, at the heart, and + pervades the system by that sleepless solicitation of appetite, which, + like the presence of guilt, mingles itself up, while it lasts, with every + thought and action of one's life. + </p> + <p> + In this instance it may be remembered, that the aid which the poor girl + had come to ask from Skinadre was, as she said, 'for the ould couple,' who + had, indeed, been for a long time past their last meal, a very common + thing during such periods, and were consequently without a morsel of food. + The appearance of her corpse, however, at the house, an event so + unexpected, drove, for the time, all feelings of physical want from their + minds; but this is a demand which will not be satisfied, no matter by what + moral power or calamity it may be opposed, and the wretched couple were + now a proof of it. Their conduct to those who did not understand this, + resembled insanity or fatuity more than anything else. The faces of both + were ghastly, and filled with a pale, vague expression of what appeared to + be horror, or the dull staring stupor, which results from the fearful + conflict of two great opposing passions in the mind—passions, which + in this case were the indomitable ones of hunger and grief. After dusk, + when the candles were lighted, they came into the room where their + daughter was laid out, and stood for some time contemplating herself and + her infant in silence. Their visages were white and stony as marble, and + their eyes, now dead and glassy, were marked by no appearance of distinct + consciousness, or the usual expression of reason. They had no sooner + appeared, than the sympathies of the assembled neighbors were deeply + excited, and there was nothing heard for some minutes, but groans, + sobbings, and general grief. Both stood for a short time, and looked with + amazement about them. At length, the old man, taking the hand of his wife + in his, said— + </p> + <p> + “Kathleen, what's this?—what ails me? I want something.” + </p> + <p> + “You do, Brian—you do. There s Peggy there, and her child, poor + thing; see how quiet they are! Oh, how she loved that child! an' see her + darlin'—see how she keeps her arm about it, for fear anything! might + happen it, or that any one might take it away from her; but that's her, + all over—she loved everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said the old man, “I know how she loved it; but, somehow, she was + ever and always afeard, poor thing, of seemin' over fond of it before us + or before strangers, bekaise you know the poor unhappy—bekaise you + know—what was I goin' to say? Oh, ay, an' I'll tell you, although I + didn't let on to her, still I loved the poor little thing myself—ay, + did I. But, ah! Kathleen, wasn't she the good an' the lovin' daughter?” + The old woman raised her head, and looked searchingly around the room. She + seemed uneasy, and gave a ghastly smile, which it was difficult to + understand. She then looked into her husband's face, after which she + turned her eyes upon the countenances of the early dead who lay before + her, and going over to them, stooped and looked closely into their still + but composed faces, She then put her hand upon her daughter's forehead, + touched her lips with her fingers, carried her hand down along her arm, + and felt the pale features of the baby with a look of apparent wonder; and + whilst she did this, the old man left the room and passed into the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “For God's love, an' take her away,” said a neighboring woman, with tears + in her eyes; “no one can stand this.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” exclaimed another, “it's best to let her have her own will; for + until they both shed plenty of tears, they won't get the betther of the + shock her unexpected death gave them.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it thrue that Tom Dalton's gone mad, too?” asked another; “for it's + reported he is.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but they say he's risin' the counthry to punish Dick o' the Grange + and Darby Skinadre—the one, he says, for puttin' his father and + themselves out o' their farm; and the other for bein' the death, he says, + of poor Peggy there and the child; an' for tak in', or offerin' to take, + the farm over their heads.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman then looked around, and, asked— + </p> + <p> + “Where is Brian? Bring him to me—I want him here. But wait,” she + added, “I will find him myself.” + </p> + <p> + She immediately followed him into the I kitchen, where the poor old man + was found searching every part of the house for food. + </p> + <p> + “What are you looking for, Brian?” asked another of his neighbors. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he replied, “I am dyin' wid fair hunger—wid fair hunger, an' I + want something to ait;” and as he spoke, a spasm of agony came over his + face. “Ah,” he added, “if Alick was livin' it isn't this way we'd be, for + what can poor Peggy do for us afther her 'misfortune?' However, she is a + good girl—a good daughter to us, an' will make a good wife, too, for + all that has happened yet; for sure they wor both young and foolish, an' + Tom is to marry her. She is now all we have to depend on, poor thing, an' + it wrings my heart to catch her in lonesome places, cryin' as if her heart + would break; for, poor thing, she's sorry—sorry for her fault, an' + for the shame an' sorrow it has brought her to; an' that's what makes her + pray, too, so often as she does; but God's good, an' he'll forgive her, + bekaise she has repented.” + </p> + <p> + “Brian,” said his wife, “come away till I show you something.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, she led him into the other room. + </p> + <p> + “There,” she proceeded, “there is our dearest and our best—food—oh, + I am hungry, too; but I don't care for that—sure the mother's love + is stronger than hunger or want either: but there she is, that was wanst + our pride and our delight, an' what is she now? She needn't cry now, the + poor heartbroken child; she needn't cry now; all her sorrow, and all her + shame, and all her sin is over. She'll hang her head no more, nor her pale + cheek won't get crimson at the sight of any one that knew her before her + fall; but for all her sin in that one act, did her heart ever fail to you + or me? Was there ever such love an' care, an' respect, as she paid us? an' + we wouldn't tell her that we forgave her; we wor too hardhearted for that, + an' too wicked to say that one word that she longed for so much—oh + an' she our only one—but now—daughter of our hearts—now + we forgive you when it's too late—for, Brian, there they are! there + they lie in their last sleep—the sleep that they will never waken + from! an' it's well for them, for they'll waken no more to care an' + throuble, and shame! There they lie! see how quiet an' calm they both lie + there, the poor broken branch, an' the little withered flower!” + </p> + <p> + The old man's search for food in the kitchen had given to the neighbors + the first intimation of their actual distress, and in a few minutes it was + discovered that there was not a mouthful of anything in the house, nor had + they tasted a single morsel since the morning before, when they took a + little gruel which their daughter made for them. In a moment, with all + possible speed, the poor creatures about them either went or sent for + sustenance, and in many a case, almost the last morsel was shared with + them, and brought, though scanty and humble, to their immediate + assistance. In this respect there is not in the world any people so + generous and kind to their fellow-creatures as the Irish, or whose + sympathies are so deep and tender, especially in periods of sickness, + want, or death. It is not the tear alone they are willing to bestow—oh + no—whatever can be done, whatever aid can be given, whatever + kindness rendered, or consolation offered, even to the last poor shilling, + or, “the very bit out of the mouth,” as they say themselves, will be given + with a good will, and a sincerity that might in vain be looked for + elsewhere. But alas! they know what it is to want this consolation and + assistance themselves, and hence their promptitude and anxiety to render + them to others. The old man, touched a little by the affecting language of + his wife, began to lose the dull stony look we have described, and his + eyes turned upon those who were about him with something like meaning, + although at that moment it could scarcely be called so. + </p> + <p> + “Am I dhramin'?” he asked. “Is this a dhrame? What brings the people all + about us? Where's Alick from us—an' stay—where's her that I + loved best, in spite of her folly? Where's Peggy from me—there's + something wrong wid me—and yet she's not here to take care o' me?” + </p> + <p> + “Brian, dear,” said a poor famished-looking woman approaching him, “she's + in a betther place, poor thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Go long out o' that,” he replied, “and don't put your hands on me. It's + Peggy's hands I want to have about me, an' her voice. Where's Peggy's + voice, I say? 'Father, forgive me,' she said, 'forgive me, father, or I'll + never be happy more;' but I wouldn't forgive her, although my heart did at + the same time; still I didn't say the word: bring her here,” he added, + “tell her I'm ready now to forgive her all; for she, it's she that was the + forgivin' creature herself; tell her I'm ready now to forgive her all, an' + to give her my blessin' wanst more.” + </p> + <p> + It was utterly impossible to hear this language from the stunned and + heart-broken father, and to contemplate the fair and lifeless form of the + unhappy young creature as she lay stretched before him in the peaceful + stillness of death, without being moved even to tears. There were, indeed, + few dry eyes in the house as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Brian dear,” said her weeping mother, “we helped ourselves to break + her heart, as well as the rest. We wouldn't forgive her; we wouldn't say + the word, although her heart was breakin' bekaise we did not. Oh, Peggy,” + she commenced in Irish, “oh, our daughter—girl of the one fault! the + kind, the affectionate, and the dutiful child, to what corner of the world + will your father an' myself turn now that you're gone from us? You asked + us often an' often to forgive you, an' we would not. You said you were + sorry, in the sight of God an' of man, for your fault—that your + heart was sore, an' that you felt our forgiveness would bring you + consolation; but we would not. Ould man,” she exclaimed abruptly, turning + to her husband, “why didn't you forgive our only daughter? Why, I say, + didn't you forgive her her one fault—you wicked ould man, why didn't + you forgive her?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Kathleen, I'll die,” he replied, mournfully, “I'll die if I don't get + something to ait. Is there no food? Didn't Peggy go to thry Darby + Skinadre, an' she hoped, she said, that she'd bring us relief; an' so she + went upon our promise to forgive her when she'd come back wid it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, indeed, I had a drop o' gruel or something myself,” replied his + wife, now reminded of her famished state by his words. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, however, relief, so far as food was concerned, did come. + The compassionate neighbors began, one by one, to return each with + whatever could be spared from their own necessities, so that in the course + of a little time this desolate old couple were supplied with provisions + sufficient to meet the demands of a week or fortnight. + </p> + <p> + It is not our intention to describe, or rather to attempt to describe, the + sorrow of Brian Murtagh and his wife, as soon as a moderate meal of food + had awakened them, as it were, from the heavy and stupid frenzy into which + the shock of their unhappy daughter's death, joined to the pangs of + famine, had thrown them. It may be sufficient to say, that their grief was + wild, disconsolate, and hopeless. She was the only daughter they had ever + had: and when they looked back upon the gentle and unfortunate girl's many + virtues, and reflected that they had, up to her death, despite her earnest + entreaties, withheld from her their pardon for her transgression, they + felt, mingled with their affliction at her loss, such an oppressive agony + of remorse as no language could describe. + </p> + <p> + Many of the neighbors now proposed the performance of a ceremony, which is + frequently deemed necessary in cases of frailty similar to that of poor + Peggy Murtagh:—a ceremony which, in the instance before us, was one + of equal pathos and beauty. It consisted of a number of these humble, but + pious and well-disposed people joining in what is termed the Litany of the + Blessed Virgin, which was an earnest solicitation of mercy, through her + intercession with her Son, for the errors, frailties, and sins of the + departed; and, indeed, when her youth and beauty, and her artlessness and + freedom from guile, were taken into consideration, in connection with her + unexpected death, it must be admitted that this act of devotion was as + affecting as it was mournful and solemn. When they came to the words, + “Mother most pure, Mother most chaste, Mother undefiled, Mother most + loving, pray for her!”—and again to those, “Morning Star, Health of + the Weak, Refuge of Sinners, Comfortress of the Afflicted, pray for her!”—their + voices faltered, became broken, and, with scarcely a single exception, + they melted into tears. And it was a beautiful thing to witness these + miserable and half-famished creatures, shrunk and pinched with hunger and + want, laboring, many of them, with incipient illness, and several only + just recovered from it, forgetting their own distress and afflictions, and + rendering all the aid and consolation in their power to those who stood in + more need of it than themselves. When these affecting prayers for the dead + had been concluded, a noise was heard at the door, and a voice which in a + moment hushed them into silence and awe. The voice was that of him whom + the departed girl had loved with such fatal tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of God,” exclaimed one of them, “let some of you keep that + unfortunate boy out; the sight of him will kill the ould couple.” The + woman who spoke, however, had hardly concluded, when Thomas Dalton entered + the room, panting, pale, tottering through weakness, and almost frantic + with sorrow and remorse. On looking at the unhappy sight before him, he + paused and wiped his brow, which was moistened by excitement and + over-exertion. + </p> + <p> + There was now the silence of death in the room so deep, that the shooting + of a spark from one of the death-candles was heard by every one present, + an incident which, small as it was, deepened the melancholy interest of + the moment. + </p> + <p> + “An' that's it,” he at last exclaimed, in a voice which, though weak, + quivered with excess of agony—“that's it, Peggy dear—that's + what your love for me has brought you to! An' now it's too late, I can't + help you now, Peggy dear. I can't bid you hould your, modest face up, as + the darlin' wife of him who loved you betther than all this world besides, + but that left you, for all that a stained name an' a broken heart! Ay! an' + there's what your love for me brought you to! What can I do now for you, + Peggy dear? All my little plans for us both—all that I dreamt of an' + hoped to come to pass, where are they now, Peggy dear? And it wasn't I, + Peggy, it was poverty—oh you know how I loved you!—it was the + downcome we got—it was Dick-o'-the-Grange, that oppressed us—that + ruined us—that put us out without house or home—it was he, and + it was my father—my father that they say has blood on his hand, an' + I don't doubt it, or he wouldn't act the part he did—it was he, too + that prevented me from doin' what my heart encouraged me to do for you! O + blessed God,” he exclaimed, “what will become of me! when I think of the + long, sorrowful, implorin' look she used to give me. I'll go mad!—I'll + go mad!—I've killed her—I've murdhered her, an' there's no one + to take me up an' punish me for it! An' when I was ill, Peggy dear, when I + had time to think on my sick bed of all your love and all your sorrow and + distress and shame on my account, I thought I'd never see you in time to + tell you what I was to do, an' to give consolation to your breakin' heart; + but all that's now over; you are gone from me, an' like the lovin' crathur + you ever wor, you brought your baby along wid you! An' when I think of it—oh + God, when I think of it, before your shame, my heart's delight, how your + eye felt proud out of me, an' how it smiled when it rested on me. Oh, + little you thought I'd hould back to do you justice—me that you + doted on—an' yet it was I that sullied you—I! me! Here,” he + shouted—“here, is there no one to saize a murdherer!—no one to + bring him to justice!” + </p> + <p> + Those present now gathered about him, and attempted as best they might, to + soothe and pacify him; but in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he proceeded, “if she was only able to upbraid me—but what am + I sayin'—upbraid! Oh, never, never was her harsh word heard—oh, + nothing ever to me but that long look of sorrow—that long look of + sorrow, that will either drive me mad, or lave me a broken heart! That's + the look that'll always, always be before me, an' that, 'till death's day, + will keep me from ever bein' a happy man.” + </p> + <p> + He now became exhausted, and received a drink of water, after which he + wildly kissed her lips, and bathed her inanimate face, as well as those of + their infant, with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, at length; “now, Peggy dear, listen—so may God never + prosper me, if I don't work bitther vengeance on them that along wid + myself, was the means of bringin' you to this—Dick-o'-the-Grange, + an' Darby Skinadre, for if Darby had given you what you wanted, you might + be yet a livin' woman. As for myself, I care not what becomes of me; you + are gone, our child is gone, and now I have nothing in this world that + I'll ever care for; there's nothing in it that I'll ever love again.” + </p> + <p> + He then turned to leave the room, and was in the act of going out of it, + when her father, who had nearly recovered the use of his reason, said: + </p> + <p> + “Tom Dalton, you are lavin' this house, an' may the curse of that girl's + father, broken-hearted as you've left him, go along wid you.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” exclaimed his wife, “but may the blessin' of her mother rest upon + you for the sake of the love she bore you!” + </p> + <p> + “You've spoken late, Kathleen Murtagh,” he replied; “the curse of the + father is on me, an' will folly me; I feel it.” + </p> + <p> + His sister then entered the room to bring him home, whither he accompanied + her, scarcely conscious of what he did, and ignorant of the cloud of + vengeance which was so soon to break upon his wretched father's head. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — Sarah's Defence of a Murderer. + </h2> + <p> + Our readers are not, perhaps, in general, aware that a most iniquitous + usage prevailed among Middlemen Landlords, whenever the leases under which + their property was held were near being expired. Indeed, as a landed + proprietor, the middleman's position differed most essentially from that + of the man who held his estate in fee. The interest of the latter is one + that extends beyond himself and his wants, and is consequently transmitted + to his children, and more remote descendants; and on his account he is, or + ought to be, bound by the ties of a different and higher character, to see + that it shall not pass down to them in an impoverished or mutilated + condition. The middleman, on the contrary, feels little or none of this, + and very naturally endeavors to sweep from off the property he holds, + whilst he holds it, by every means possible, as much as it can yield, + knowing that his tenure of it is but temporary and precarious. For this + reason, then, it too frequently happened that on finding his tenant's + leases near expiring, he resorted to the most unscrupulous and oppressive + means to remove from his land those who may have made improvements upon + it, in order to let it to other claimants at a rent high in proportion to + these very improvements. + </p> + <p> + Our readers know that this is not an extreme case, but a plain, + indisputable fact, which has, unfortunately, been one of the standing + grievances of our unhappy country, and one of the great curses attending + the vicious and unsettled state of property in Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Dick-o'-the-Grange's ejectment of Condy Dalton and his family, therefore, + had, in the eyes of many of the people, nothing in it so startlingly + oppressive as might be supposed. On the contrary, the act was looked upon + as much in the character of a matter of right on his part, as one of + oppression to them. Long usage had reconciled the peasantry to it, and up + to the period of our tale, there had been no one to awaken and direct + public feeling against it. + </p> + <p> + A fortnight had now elapsed since the scene in which young Dalton had + poured out his despair and misery over the dead body of Peggy Murtagh, and + during that period an incident occurred, which, although by no means akin + to the romantic, had produced, nevertheless, a change in the position of + Dick-o'-the-Grange himself, without effecting any either in his designs or + inclinations. His own leases had expired, so that, in one sense, he stood + exactly in the same relation to the head landlord, in which his own + tenants did to him. Their leases had dropped about a twelvemonth or more + before his, and he now waited until he should take out new ones himself, + previous to his proceeding any further in the disposition and readjustment + of his property. Such was his position and theirs, with reference to each + other, when one morning, about a fortnight or better subsequent to his + last appearance, young Dick, accompanied by the Black Prophet, was seen to + proceed towards the garden—both in close conversation. The Prophet's + face was now free from the consequences of young Dalton's violence, but it + had actually gained in malignity more than it had lost by the + discoloration and disfigurement resulting from the blow. There was a calm, + dark grin visible when he smiled, that argued a black and satanic + disposition; and whenever the lips of his hard, contracted, and unfeeling + mouth expanded by his devilish sneer, a portion of one of his vile side + fangs became visible, which gave to his features a most hateful and + viper-like aspect. It was the cold, sneering, cowardly face of a man who + took delight in evil for its own sake, and who could neither feel + happiness himself, nor suffer others to enjoy it. + </p> + <p> + As they were about to enter the garden Donnel Dhu saw approaching him at a + rapid and energetic pace, his daughter Sarah, whose face, now lit up by + exercise, as well as by the earnest expression of deep interest which + might be read in it, never before appeared so strikingly animated and + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this lovely girl approaching us?” asked the young man, whose eyes + at once kindled with surprise and admiration. + </p> + <p> + “That is my daughter,” replied Donnel, coldly; “what can she want with me + now, and what brought her here?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor, Donnel, that girl surpasses anything I have seen yet. Why + she's perfection—her figure is—is—I haven't words for it—and + her face—good heavens! what brilliancy and animation!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/pageBP834.jpg" + alt="Page 834-- the Prophet's Brow Darkened " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The Prophet's brow darkened at his daughter's unseasonable appearance in + the presence of a handsome young fellow of property, whose character for + gallantry was proverbial in the country. + </p> + <p> + “Sarah, my good girl,” said he, whilst his voice, which at once became low + and significant, quivered with suppressed rage—“what brought you + here, I ax? Did any one send for you? or is there a matther of life and + death on hands, that you tramp afther me in this manner—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “It may be life an' death for any thing I know to the contrary,” she + replied; “you are angry at something, I see,” she proceeded—“but to + save time, I want to spake to you.” + </p> + <p> + “You must wait till I go home, then, for I neither can nor will spake to + you now.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, you will—you must,” she replied—“and in some private + place too. I won't detain you long, for I haven't much to say, and if I + don't say it now, it may be too late.” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce, M'Gowan!” said Dick, “speak, to the young woman—you + don't know but she may have something of importance to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the speaker, but with a face of such indifference, as if + she had scarcely taken cognizance of him, beyond the fact that she found + some young man there in conversation with her father. + </p> + <p> + Donnel, rather to take her from under the libertine gaze of his young + friend, walked a couple of hundred yards to the right of the garden, + where, under the shadow of some trees that over-hung a neglected fishpond, + she opened the purport for her journey after him to the Grange. + </p> + <p> + “Now, in the divil's name,” he asked, “what brought you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” she replied, “hear me, and do not be angry, for I know—at + laste I think—that what I am goin' to say to you is right.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame, let us hear what you have to say.” + </p> + <p> + “I will—an' I must spake plain, too. You know me; that I cannot + think one thing and say another.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know you very well—go on—ay, and so does your + unfortunate step-mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—well!” she replied—“yes, I suppose so—ha! ha!” In a + moment, however, her face became softened with deep feeling; “O, father,” + she proceeded, “maybe you don't know me, nor she either; it's only now I'm + beginnin' to know myself. But listen—I have often observed your + countenance, father—I have often marked it well. I can see by you + when you are pleased or angry—but that's aisy; I can tell, too, when + the bad spirit is up in you by the pale face but black look that scarcely + any one could mistake. I have seen every thing bad, father, in your face—bad + temper, hatred, revenge—an' but seldom any thing good. Father, I'm + your daughter, an' don't be angry!” + </p> + <p> + “What, in the devil's name, are you drivin' at, you brazen jade?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, you said this mornin', before you came out, that you felt your + conscience troublin' you for not discoverin' the murdher of Sullivan; that + you felt sorry for keepin' it to yourself so long—sorry!—you + said you were sorry, father!” + </p> + <p> + “I did, and I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, I have been thinkin' of that since; no, father—your words + were false; there was no sorrow in your face, nor in your eye,—no, + father, nor in your heart. I know that—I feel it. Father, don't look + so: you may bate me, but I'm not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Go home out o'this,” he replied—“be off, and carry your cursed + madness and nonsense somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, here I stand—your own child—your only daughter; look + me in the face—let your eye look into mine, if you can. I challenge + you to it! Now mark my words—you are goin' to swear a murdher + against the head of a poor and distressed family—to swear it—and, + father, you know he never murdhered Sullivan!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started and became pale, but he did not accept the challenge. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, however, after a struggle to recover his composure, and + there she stood firm—erect; her beautiful face animated with + earnestness, her eyes glowing with singular lustre, yet set, and sparkling + in the increasing moisture which a word or thought would turn into tears. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mane, Sarah?” said he, affecting coolness; “What do you mane? + I know! Explain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, I will. There was a bad spirit in your face and in your heart + when you said you were sorry; that you repented for consalin' the murdher + so long; there was, father, a bad spirit in your heart, but no repentance + there!” + </p> + <p> + “An' did you come all the way from home to tell me this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, father, not to tell you what I have said, but, father, dear, what I + am goin' to say; only first answer me. If he did murdher Sullivan, was it + in his own defence? was it a cool murdher? a cowardly murdher? because if + it was, Condy Dalton is a bad man. But still listen: it's now near + two-an'-twenty years since the deed was done. I know little about + religion, father; you know that; but still I have heard that God is + willin' to forgive all men their sins if they repent of them; if they're + sorry for them. Now, father, it's well known that for many a long year + Condy Dalton has been in great sorrow of heart for something or other; can + man do more?” + </p> + <p> + “Go home out o' this, I say; take yourself away.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, who can tell, father, the inward agony and bitther repentance that + that sorrowful man's heart, maybe, has suffered. Who can tell the tears he + shed, the groans he groaned, the prayers for mercy he said, maybe, and the + worlds he would give to have that man that he killed—only by a hasty + blow, maybe—again alive and well! Father, don't prosecute him; leave + the poor heartbroken ould man to God! Don't you see that God has already + taken him an' his into His hands; hasn't He punished them a hundred ways + for years? Haven't they been brought down, step by step, from wealth an' + respectability, till they're now like poor beggars, in the very dust? Oh, + think, father, dear father, think of his white hairs; think of his pious + wife, that every one respects; think of his good-hearted, kind daughters; + think of their poverty, and all they have suffered so long; an' above all, + oh, think, father dear, of what they will suffer if you are the manes of + takin' that sorrowful white-haired ould man out from the middle of his + poor, but lovin' and dacent and respected family, and hangin' him for an + act that he has repented for, maybe, and that we ought to hope the + Almighty himself has forgiven him for. Father, I go on my knees to you to + beg that you won't prosecute this ould man; but leave him to God!” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered the last few sentences, the tears fell in torrents from her + cheeks; but when she knelt—which she did—her tears ceased to + flow, and she looked up into her father's face with eyes kindled into an + intense expression, and her hands clasped as if her own life and + everlasting salvation depended upon his reply. + </p> + <p> + “Go home, I desire you,” he replied, with a cold sneer, for he had now + collected himself, and fell back into his habitual snarl; “Go home, I + desire you, or maybe you'd wish to throw yourself in the way of that young + profligate that I was spakin' to when you came up. Who knows, affcher all, + but that's your real design, and neither pity nor compassion for ould + Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I his daughter?” she replied, whilst she started to her feet, and her + dark eyes flashed with disdain: “Can I be his daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you don't mean to cast a slur upon your—.” He paused a + moment and started as if a serpent had bitten him; but left the word + “mother” unuttered. + </p> + <p> + Again she softened, and her eyes filled with tears. “Father, I never had a + mother!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied; “or if you had, her name will never come through my + lips.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with wonder for a few moments, after which she turned, + and with a face of melancholy and sorrow, proceeded with slow and + meditating steps in the direction of their humble cabin. + </p> + <p> + Her father, who felt considerably startled by some portions of her appeal, + though by no means softened, again directed his steps towards the garden + gate, where he left young Dick standing. Here he found this worthy young + gentleman awaiting his return, and evidently amazed at the interview + between him and his daughter; for although he had been at too great a + distance to hear their conversation, he could, and did see, by the + daughter's attitudes, that the subject of their conversation was + extraordinary, and consequently important. + </p> + <p> + On approaching him, the Prophet now, with his usual coolness, pulled out + the tress which he had, in some manner, got from <i>Gra Gal</i> Sullivan, + and holding it for a time, placed it in Dick's hands. + </p> + <p> + “There's one proof,” said he, alluding to a previous part of their + conversation, “that I wasn't unsuccessful, and, indeed, I seldom am, when + I set about a thing in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it possible,” asked the other, “that she actually gave this lovely + tress willingly—you swear that?” + </p> + <p> + “As Heaven's above me,” replied the Prophet, “there never was a ringlet + sent by woman to man with more love than she sent that. Why, the purty + creature actually shed tears, and begged of me to lose no time in givin' + it. You have it now, at all events—an' only for young Dalton's + outrage, you'd have had it before now.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there's no truth in the report that she's fond of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—ahem—n—no—oh, no—not now—fond of + him she was, no doubt; an' you know it's never hard to light a half-burned + turf, or a candle that was lit before. If they could be got out of the + counthry, at all events—these Daltons—it would be so much out + of your way, for between, you an' me, I can tell you that your life won't + be safe when he comes to know that you have put his nose out of joint with + the <i>Gra Gal</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange, however, that she should change so soon!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Master Richard! how little you know of woman, when you say so. + They're a vain, uncertain, selfish crew—women are—there's no + honesty in them, nor I don't think there's a woman alive that could be + trusted, if you only give her temptation and opportunity; none of them + will stand that.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you account for the change in her case, I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you that. First and foremost, you're handsome—remarkably + handsome.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, no nonsense, Donnel; get along, will you, ha! ha! ha!—handsome + indeed! Never you mind what the world says—well!” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the other, gravely, “there's no use in denyin' it, you + know; it's a matther that tells for itself, an' that a poor girl with eyes + in her head can judge of as a rich one—at any rate, if you're not + handsome, you're greatly belied; an' every one knows that there's never + smoke without fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, confound you!—since they'll have it so, I suppose I may as + well admit it—I believe I am a handsome dog, and I have reason to + know that, that——” here he shook his head and winked + knowingly: “Oh, come Donnel, my boy, I can go no further on that subject—ha! + ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no dispute about it,” continued Donnel, gravely; “but still I + think, that if it was not for the mention made of the dress, an' grandeur, + and state that she was to come to, she'd hardly turn round as she did. + Dalton, you know, is the handsomest young fellow, barring yourself, in the + parish; an' troth on your account an' hers, I wish he was out of it. He'll + be crossin' you—you may take my word for it—an' a dangerous + enemy he'll prove—that I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? what do you mean?” Here the prophet, who was artfully trying to fill + the heart of his companion with a spirit of jealousy against Dalton, + paused for a moment, as if in deep reflection, after which he sighed + heavily. “Mane!” he at length replied; “I am unhappy in my mind, an' I + know I ought to do it, an' yet I'm loth now after sich a length of time. + Mane, did you say, Masther Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I said so, and I say so; what do you mean by telling me that young + Dalton will be a dangerous enemy to me?” + </p> + <p> + “An' so he will; an' so he would to any one that he or his bore ill-will + against. You know there's blood upon their hands.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know any such thing; I believe he was charged with the murder + of Mave Sullivan's uncle, but as the body could not be found, there were + no grounds for a prosecution. I don't, therefore, know that there's blood + upon his hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if you don't—may God direct! me!” he added, “an' guide + me to the best—if you don't, Masther Richard—Heaven direct me + agin!—will I say it?—could you get that family quietly out of + the counthry, Masther Richard? Bekaise if you could, it would be betther, + maybe, for all parties.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know something about these Daltons, Mr. M'Gowan?” asked Dick, + “and to speak mysteriously of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I do,” he replied; “but! what I have to say, I ought to say + it to your father, who is a magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + The other stared at him with surprise, but said nothing for a minute or + two. + </p> + <p> + “What is this mystery?” he added at length; “I cannot understand you; but + it is clear that you mean something extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “God pardon me, Masther Richard, but you are right enough. No; I can't + keep it any longer. Listen to me, sir, for I am goin' to make a strange + and a fearful discovery; I know who it was that murdhered Sullivan; I'm in + possession of it for near the last two-an'-twenty years; I have travelled + every where; gone to England, to Wales, Scotland, an' America, but it was + all of no use; the knowledge of the murdher! and the murdherer was here,” + he laid his! hand upon his heart as he spoke; “an' durin' all that time I + had peace neither by night nor by day.” + </p> + <p> + His companion turned towards him with amazement, and truly his appearance + was startling, if not frightful; he looked as it were into vacancy; his + eyes had become hollow and full of terror; his complexion assumed the hue + of ashes; his voice got weak and unsteady, and his limbs trembled + excessively, whilst from every pore the perspiration came out, and ran + down his ghastly visage in large drops. + </p> + <p> + “M'Gowan,” said his companion, “this is a dreadful business. As yet you + have said nothing, and from what I see, I advise you to reflect before you + proceed further in it. I think I can guess the nature of your secret; but + even if you went to my father, he would tell you, that you are not bound + to criminate yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, in the mean time, had made an effort to recover himself, + which, after a little time, was successful. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you think,” he added, with a gloomy and a bitter smile, “that + it was I who committed the murdher; oh no! if it was, I wouldn't be apt to + hang myself, I think. No! but I must see your father, as a magistrate; an' + I must make the disclosure to him. The man that did murdher Sullivan is + livin', and that man is Condy Dalton. I knew of this, an' for + two-an'-twenty years let that murdherer escape, an' that is what made me + so miserable an' unhappy. I can prove what I say; an' I know the very spot + where he buried Sullivan's body, an' where it's lyin' to this very day.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, then,” replied the other, “you have only one course to + pursue, and that is, to bring Dalton to justice.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” returned the Prophet; “but still I feel that it's a hard case + to be the means of hangin' a fellow-crature; but of the two choices, + rather than bear any longer what I have suffered an' am still sufferin', I + think it betther to prosecute him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go in and see my father at once about it, and a devilish difficult + card you'll have to play with him; for my part, I think he is mad ever + since Jemmy Branigan left him. In fact, he knows neither what he is saying + or doing without him, especially in some matters; for to tell you the + truth,” he added, laughing, “Jemmy, who was so well acquainted with the + country and every one in it, took much more of the magistrate on him than + ever my father did; and now the old fellow, when left to himself, is + nearly helpless in every sense. He knows he has not Jemmy, and he can bear + nobody else near him or about him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will see him, then, before I lave the place; an' now, Masther Richard, + you know what steps you ought to take with regard to <i>Gra Gal</i> + Sullivan. As she is willin' herself, of course there is but one way of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am aware of that,” said Dick; “but still I feel that it's + devilish queer she should change so soon from Dalton to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That's bekaise you know nothing about women,” replied the Prophet. “Why, + Masther Richard, I tell you that a weathercock is constancy itself + compared with them. The notion of you an' your wealth, an' grandeur, an' + the great state you're to keep her in—all turned her brain; an' as a + proof of it, there you have a lock of her beautiful hair that she gave me + with her own hands. If that won't satisfy you it's hard to say what can; + but indeed I think you ought to know by this time o' day how far a + handsome face goes with them. Give the divil himself but that, and they'll + take his horns, hooves, and tail into the bargain—ay, will they.” + </p> + <p> + This observation was accompanied by a grin so sneering and bitter, that + his companion, on looking at him, knew not how to account for it, unless + by supposing that he must during the course of his life have sustained + some serious or irreparable injury at their hands. + </p> + <p> + “You appear not to like the women, Donnel; how is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Like them!” he replied, and as he spoke his face, which had been, a + little before, ghastly with horror, now became black and venomous; “ha! + ha! how is that, you say? oh, no matther now; they're angels; angels of + perdition; their truth is treachery, an' their—but no matther. I'll + now go in an' spake to your father on this business; but I forgot to say + that I must see <i>Gra Gal</i> soon, to let her know our plans; so do you + make your mind aisy, and lave the management of the whole thing in my + hands.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTEE XIV. — A Middleman Magistrate of the Old School, and his + Clerk. + </h2> + <p> + Dick-o'-the-Grange—whose name was Henderson—at least such is + the name we choose to give him—held his office, as many Irish + magistrates have done before him, in his own parlor; that is to say, he + sat in an arm-chair at one of the windows, which was thrown open for him, + while those who came to seek justice, or, as they termed it, law, at his + hands, were compelled to stand uncovered on the outside, no matter whether + the weather was stormy or otherwise. We are not now about to pronounce, + any opinion upon the constitutional spirit of Dick's decisions—inasmuch + as nineteen out of every twenty of them were come to by the only + “Magistrates' Guide” he ever was acquainted with—to wit, the + redoubtable Jemmy Branigan. Jemmy was his clerk, and although he could + neither read nor write, yet in cases where his judgments did not give + satisfaction, he was both able and willing to set his mark upon the + discontented parties m a fashion that did not allow his blessed signature + to be easily forgotten. Jemmy, however, as the reader knows, was absent on + the morning we are writing about, having actually fulfilled his threat of + leaving his master's service—a threat, by the way, which was held + out and acted upon at least once every year since he and the magistrate + had stood to each other in the capacity of master and servant. Not that we + are precisely correct in the statement we had made on this matter, for + sometimes his removal was the result of dismissal on the part of his + master, and sometimes the following up of the notice which he himself had + given him to leave his service. Be this as it may, his temporary absences + always involved a trial of strength between the parties, as to which of + them should hold out, and put a constraint upon his inclinations the + longest; for since the truth must be told of Jemmy, we are bound to say + that he could as badly bear to live removed from the society of his + master, as the latter could live without him. For many years of his life, + he had been threatening to go to America, or to live with a brother that + he had in the Isle of White, as he called it, and on several occasions he + had taken formal leave of the whole family, (always in the presence of his + master, however,) on his departure for either the one place or the other, + while his real abode was a snug old garret, where he was attended and kept + in food by the family and his fellow-servants, who were highly amused at + the outrageous distress of his master, occasioned sometimes by Jemmy's + obstinate determination to travel, and sometimes by his extreme brotherly + affection. + </p> + <p> + Donnel, having left his son cracking a long whip which he held in his + hand, and looking occasionally at the tress of Mave Sullivan's beautiful + hair, approached the hall door, at which he knocked, and on the appearance + of a servant, requested to see Mr. Henderson. The man waived his hand + towards the space under the window, meaning that he should take his stand + there, and added— + </p> + <p> + “If it's law you want, I'm afeard you'll get more abuse than justice from + him now, since Jemmy's gone.” + </p> + <p> + The knowing grin, and the expression of comic sorrow which accompanied the + last words, were not lost upon the prophet, who, in common with every one + in the neighborhood for a circumference of many miles, was perfectly well + aware of the life which master and man both led. + </p> + <p> + “Is that it?” said the prophet; “however, it can't be helped. Clerk, or no + clerk, I want to see him on sarious business, tell him; but I'll wait, of + coorse, till he's at leisure.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” said Henderson from within, “Who's there?—is that him? If it + is, tell him, confound him! to come in, and I'll forgive him. If he'll + promise to keep a civil tongue in his head, I'll forget all, say. Come in, + you old scoundrel, I'm not angry with you; I want to speak to you, at all + events.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not him, sir; it's only Donnel M'Gowan, the Black Prophet, that + wants some law business.” + </p> + <p> + “Send him to the devil for law business What brings him here now? Tell him + he shall have neither law nor justice from me. Did you send to his + brother-in-law? May be he's there?” + </p> + <p> + “We did, sir. Sorra one of his seed, breed, or generation but we sent to. + However, it's no use—off to America he's gone, or to the Isle o' + White, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “May the devil sink America and the Isle of White both in the ocean, an' + you, too; you scoundrel, and all of you! Only for the cursed crew that's + about me, I'd have him here still—and he the only man that + understood my wants and my wishes, and that could keep me comfortable and + easy.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, then, he hadn't an overly civil tongue in his head, sir,” replied + the man; “for, when you and he, your honor, were together, there was + little harmony to spare between you.” + </p> + <p> + “That was my own fault, you cur. No servant but himself would have had a + day's patience with me. He never abused me but when I deserved it—did + he?” + </p> + <p> + “No, your honor; I know he didn't, in troth.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie, you villain, you know no such thing. Here am I with my sore leg, + and no one to dress it for me. Who's to help me upstairs or downstairs?—who's + to be about me?—or, who cares for me, now that he's gone? Nobody—not + a soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't Masther Richard, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No sir; Master Richard gives himself little trouble about me. He has + other plots and plans on his hands—other fish to fry—other + irons in the fire. Masther Richard, sirra, doesn't care a curse if I was + under the sod to-morrow, but would be glad of it; neither does, any one + about me—but he did; and you infernal crew, you have driven him away + from me.” + </p> + <p> + “We, your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all of you; you put me first out of temper by your neglect and your + extravagance; then I vented it on him, because he was the only one among + you I took any pleasure in abusin'—speaking to. However, my mind's + made up—I'll call an auction—sell everything—and live in + Dublin as well as I can. What does that black hound want?” + </p> + <p> + “Some law business, sir; but I donna what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the scoundrel honest, or a rogue?” + </p> + <p> + “Throth it's more than I'm able to tell your honor, sir. I don't know much + about him. Some spakes well, and some spakes ill of him—just like + his neighbors—ahem!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' that's all you can say of him? but if he was here, I could soon + ascertain what stuff he's made of, and what kind of a hearing he ought to + get. However, it doesn't matter now—I'll auction everything—in + this grange I won't live; and to be sure but I was a precious-old + scoundrel to quarrel with the best servant a man ever had.” + </p> + <p> + Just at this moment, who should come round from a back passage, carrying a + small bundle in his hand, but the object of all his solicitude. He + approached quietly on tiptoe, with a look in which might be read a most + startling and ludicrous expression of anxiety and repentance. + </p> + <p> + “How is he?” said he—“how is his poor leg? Oh, thin, blessed saints, + but I was the double distilled villain of the airth to leave him as I did + to the crew that was about him! The best masther that ever an ould + vagabond like me was ongrateful to! How is he, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the other, “if you take my advice, you'll keep from him at + all events. He's cursin' an' abusin' you ever since you went, and won't + allow one of us even to name you.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, an' it only shows his sense; for I desarved nothing else at his + hands. However, if what you say is true, I'm afeared he's not long for + this world, and that his talkin' sense at last is only the lightening + before death, poor gintleman! I can stay no longer from him, any how, let + him be as he may; an' God pardon me for my ongratitude in desartin' him + like a villain as I did.” + </p> + <p> + He then walked into the parlor; and as the prophet was beckoned as far as + the hall, he had an opportunity of witnessing the interview which took + place between this extraordinary pair. Jemmy, before entering, threw aside + his bundle and his hat, stripped off his coat, and in a moment presented + himself in the usual striped cotton jacket, with sleeves, which he alway's + wore. Old Dick was in the act of letting fly an oath at something, when + Jemmy, walking in, just as if nothing had happened, exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Why, thin, Mother o' Moses, is it at the ould work I find you? Troth, + it's past counsel, past grace wid you—I'm afraid you're too ould to + mend. In the manetime, don't stare as if you seen a ghost—only tell + us how is that unfortunate leg of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—eh?—ay,—oh, ah,—you're back are you?—an' + what the devil brought you here again?—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Come now, keep yourself quiet, you onpenitent ould sinner, or it'll be + worse for you. How is your leg?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you provokin' ould rascal—eh?—so you are back?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see I am—who would stick to you like myself, afther all? + Troth I missed your dirty tongue, bad as it is—divil a thing but + rank pace and quietness I was ever in since I seen you last.” + </p> + <p> + “And devil a scoundrel has had the honesty to give me a single word of + abuse to my face since you left me.” + </p> + <p> + “And how often did I tell you that you couldn't depind upon the crew + that's around you—the truth's not in them—an' that you ought + to know. However, so far as I am concerned, don't fret—Grod knows I + forgive you all your folly and <i>feasthalaga</i>, (* nonsense,) in hopes + always that you'll mend your life in many respects. You had meself before + you as an example, though I say it, that ougtn't to say it, but you know + you didn't take pattern by me as you ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Shake hands, Jemmy; I'm glad to see you again; you were put to expense + since you went.” + </p> + <p> + “No, none; no, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I say you were.” + </p> + <p> + “There, keep yourself quiet now; no I wasn't; an' if I was, too, what is + it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, put that note in your pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorra bit, now,” replied Jemmy, “to plaise you,” gripping it tightly at + the same time as he spoke; “do you want to vex me again?” + </p> + <p> + “Put it in your pocket, sirra, unless you want me to break your head.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he would,” said Jemmy, looking with a knowing face of terror towards + Tom Booth and the Prophet,—“it's the weight of his cane I'd get, + sure enough—but it's an ould sayin' an' a true one, that when the + generosity's in, it must come out. There now, I've put it in my pocket for + you—an' I hope you're satisfied. Devil a sich a tyrant in Europe,” + said he, loudly, “when he wishes—an' yet, after all,” he added, in a + low, confidential voice, just loud enough for his master to hear,—“where + 'ud one get the like of him? Tom Booth, desire them to fetch warm water to + the study, till I dress his poor leg, and make him fit for business.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is Donnel Dhu,” replied Booth, “waitin' for law business.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the windy, Donnel,” said Jemmy, with an authoritative air; “go to + your ground; but before you do—let me know what you want.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do no such thing,” replied the Prophet; “unless to say, that it's a + matter of life an' death.” + </p> + <p> + “Go out,” repeated Jemmy, with brief and determined authority, “an wait + till it's his honor's convanience, his full convanience, to see you. As + dark a rogue, sir,” he continued, having shoved the Prophet outside, and + slapped the door in his face; “and as great a schamer as ever put a coat + on his back. He's as big a liar too, when he likes, as ever broke bread; + but there's far more danger in him when he tells the truth, for then you + may be sure he has some devil's design in view.” + </p> + <p> + Dick-o'-the-Grange, though vulgar and eccentric, was by no means deficient + in shrewdness and common sense—neither was he, deliberately, an + unjust man; but, like too many in the world, he generally suffered his + prejudices and his interests to take the same side. Having had his leg + dressed, and been prepared by Jemmy for the business of the day, he took + his place, as usual, in the chair of justice, had the window thrown open, + and desired the Prophet to state the nature of his business. + </p> + <p> + The latter told him that the communication must be a private one, as it + involved a matter of deep importance, being no less than an affair of life + and death. + </p> + <p> + This startled the magistrate, who, with a kind of awkward embarrassment, + ordered, or rather requested Jemmy to withdraw, intimating that he would + be sent for, if his advice or opinion should be deemed necessary. + </p> + <p> + “No matther,” replied Jemmy; “the loss will be your own; for sure I know + the nice hand you make of law when you're left to yourself. Only before I + go, mark my words;—there you stand, Donnel Dhu, an' I'm tellin' him + to be on his guard against you—don't put trust, plaise your honor, + in either his word or his oath—an' if he's bringin' a charge against + any one, give it in favor of his enemy, whoever he is. I hard that he was + wanst tried for robbery, an' I only wondher it wasn't for murdher, too; + for in troth and sowl, if ever a man has both one and the other in his + face, he has. It's known to me that he's seen now and then colloguin' an' + skulkin' behind the hedges, about dusk, wid red Rody Duncan, that was in + twiste for robbery. Troth it's birds of a feather wid them—and I + wouldn't be surprised if we were to see them both swing from the same rope + yet. So there's my carrecther of you, you villain,” he added, addressing + M'Gowan, at whom he felt deeply indignant, in consequence of his not + admitting him to the secret of the communication he was about to make. + </p> + <p> + Henderson, when left alone with the Prophet, heard the disclosures which + the latter made to him, with less surprise than interest. He himself + remembered the circumstances perfectly well, and knew that on the occasion + of Condy Dalton's former arrest, appearances had been very strong against + him. It was then expected that he would have disclosed the particular spot + in which the body had been concealed, but as he strenuously persisted in + denying any knowledge of it, and, as the body consequently could not be + produced, they were obliged of necessity to discharge him, but still under + strong suspicions of his guilt. + </p> + <p> + The interview between Henderson and M'Gowan was a long one; and the + disclosures made were considered of too much importance for the former to + act without the co-operation and assistance of another magistrate. He + accordingly desired the Prophet to come to him on the following day but + one, when he said he would secure the presence of a Major Johnson; who was + also in the commission, and by whose warrant old Condy Dalton had been + originally arrested on suspicion of the murder. It was recommended that + every thing that had transpired between them should be kept strictly + secret, lest the murderer, if made acquainted with the charge which was + about to be brought home to him, should succeed in escaping from justice. + Young Dick, who had been sent for by his father, recommended this, and on + those terms they separated. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — A Plot and a Prophecy. + </h2> + <p> + Our readers cannot forget a short dialogue which took place between + Charley Hanlon and the strange female, who has already borne some part in + the incidents of our story. It occurred on the morning she had been sent + to convey the handkerchief which Hanlon had promised to Sarah M'Gowan, in + lieu of the Tobacco-Box of which we have so frequently made mention, and + which, on that occasion, she expected to have received from Sarah. After + having inquired from Hanlon why Donnel Dhu was called the Black Prophet, + she asked: + </p> + <p> + “But could he have anything to do with the murdher?” + </p> + <p> + To which Hanlon replied, that “he had been thinkin' about that, an' had + some talk, this mornin', wid a man that's livin' a long time—indeed, + that was born a little above the place, an' he says that the Black + Prophet, or M'Gowan, did not come to the neighborhood till afther the + murdher.” + </p> + <p> + Now this person was no other than Red Rody Duncan, to whom our friend + Jemmy Branigan made such opprobrious allusion in the character of the + Black Prophet to Dick-o'-the-Grange. This man, who was generally known by + the sobriquet of Red Body, had been for some time looking after the + situation of bailiff or driver to Dick-o'-the-Grange; and as Hanlon was + supposed to possess a good deal of influence with young Dick, Duncan very + properly thought he could not do better than cultivate his acquaintance. + This was the circumstance which brought them together at first, and it was + something of a dry, mysterious manner which Hanlon observed in this + fellow, when talking about the Prophet and his daughter, that caused him + to keep up the intimacy between them. + </p> + <p> + When Donnel Dhu had closed his lengthened conference with Henderson, he + turned his steps homewards, and had got half-way through the lawn, when he + was met by Red Rody. He had, only a minute or two before, left young Dick, + with whom he held another short conversation; and as he met Rody, Dick was + still standing within about a hundred yards of them, cracking his whip + with that easy indolence and utter disregard of everything but his + pleasures, which chiefly constituted his character. + </p> + <p> + “Don't stand to spake to me here,” said the Prophet; “that young scoundrel + will see us. Have you tried Hanlon yet, and will he do? Yes or no?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't tried him, but I'm now on way to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Caution!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; I'm no fool, I think. If we can secure him, the business may + be managed aisily; that is, provided the two affairs can come off on the + same night.” + </p> + <p> + “Caution, I say again.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; I'm no fool, I hope. Pass on.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet and he passed each other very slowly during this brief + dialogue; the former, when it was finished, pointing naturally towards the + Grange, or young Dick, as if he I had been merely answering a few + questions respecting some person about the place that the other was going + to see. Having passed the Prophet, he turned to the left, by a back path + that led to the garden, where, in fact, Hanlon was generally to be found, + and where, upon this occasion, he found him. After a good deal of + desultory chat, Rody at last inquired if Hanlon thought there existed any + chance of his procuring the post of bailiff. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think there is, then, to tell you the truth,” replied Hanlon; + “old Jemmy is against you bitterly, an' Masther Richard's interest in this + business isn't as strong as his.” + </p> + <p> + “The blackguard ould villain!” exclaimed Rody; “it will be a good job to + give him a dog's knock some night or other.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see that either,” replied Hanlon; “Ould Jemmy does a power of + good in his way; and indeed many an act of kindness the master himself + gets credit for that ought to go to Jemmy's account.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can give me a lift in the drivership, Charley, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afeard not, so long as Jemmy's against you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but couldn't you thry and twist that ould scoundrel himself in my + favor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the other, “there is something in that, and whatever I can + do with him, I will, if you'll thry and do me a favor.” + </p> + <p> + “Me! Name it, man—name it, and it's done, if it was only to rob the + Grange. Ha! ha! An' by the way, I dunna what puts robbin' the Grange into + my head!” + </p> + <p> + And, as he spoke, his eye was bent with an expression of peculiar + significance on Hanlon. + </p> + <p> + “No!” replied Hanlon with indifference; “it is not to rob the Grange. I + believe you know something about the man they call the Black Prophet?” + </p> + <p> + “Donnel Dhu? Why—ahem!—a little—not much. Nobody, + indeed, knows or cares much about him. However, like most people, he has + his friends and his enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember a murdher that was committed here about + two-and-twenty-years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that before or afther the Black Prophet came to live in this + counthry?” + </p> + <p> + “Afther it—afther it. No, no!'” he replied, correcting himself; “I + am wrong; it was before he came here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he could have had no hand in it?” + </p> + <p> + “Him! Is it him! Why, what puts such a thing as that into your head'?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, to tell you the truth, Rody, his daughter Sarah an' myself is + beginnin' to look at one another; an', to tell you the truth again, I'd + wish to know more about the same Prophet before I become his son-in-law, + as I have some notion of doin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I hard indeed that you wor pullin' a string wid her, an' now that I think + of it, if you give me a lift wid ould Jemmy, I'll give you one there. The + bailiff's berth is jist the thing for me; not havin' any family of my own, + you see I could have no objection to live in the Grange, as their bailiff + always did; but, aren't you afeard to tackle yourself to that divil's + clip, Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know,” replied the other; “I grant it's a hazard, by all + accounts.” + </p> + <p> + “An' yet” continued Rody, “she's a favorite with every one; an' indeed + there's not a more generous or kinder-hearted creature alive this day than + she is. I advise you, however, not to let her into your saicrets, for if + it was the knockin' of a man on the head and that she knew it, and was + asked about it, out it would go, rather than she'd tell a lie.” + </p> + <p> + “They say she's handsomer than <i>Gra Gal</i> Sullivan,” said Hanlon; “and + I think myself she is.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; it's a dead tie between them; however, I can give you a + lift with her father, but not with herself, for somehow, she doesn't like + a bone in my skin.” + </p> + <p> + “She and I made a swop,” proceeded Hanlon, “some time ago, that 'ud take a + laugh out o' you: I gave her a pocket-hand-kerchy; and she was to give me + an ould Tobaccy-Box—but she says she can't find it, altho' I have + sent for it, an' axed it myself several times. She thinks the step-mother + has thrown it away or hid it somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Body looked at him inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “A Tobaccy-Box,” he exclaimed; “would you like to get it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied Hanlon, “the poor girl has nothing else to give, an' I'd + like to have something from her, even if a ring never was to go on us, + merely as a keepsake.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied Duncan, with something approaching to solemnity in + his voice, “mark my words—you promise to give me a lift for the + drivership with old Jemmy and the two Dicks?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, listen: If you will be at the Grey Stone to-morrow night at + twelve o'clock—midnight—I'll engage that Sarah will give you + the box there.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, in troth, Eody, to tell you the truth if she could give it to me at + any other time an' place, I'd prefer it. That Grey Stone is a wild place + to be in at midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a wild place; still it's there, an' nowhere else, that you must get + the box. And now that the bargain's made, do you think it's thrue that + this old Hendherson”—here he looked very cautiously about him—“has + as much money as they say he has?” + </p> + <p> + “I b'lieve he's very rich.” + </p> + <p> + “It is thrue that he airs the bank notes in the garden here, and turns the + guineas in the sun, for fraid—for fraid—they'd get blue-mowled—is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “It may, for all I know; but it's more than I've seen yet.” + </p> + <p> + “An' now between you and me, Charley—whisper—I say, isn't it a + thousand pities—nobody could hear us, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense—who could hear us?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, isn't it a thousand pities, Charley, avia, that dacent fellows, + like you and me, should be as we are, an' that mad ould villain havin' his + house full 'o money? eh, now?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a hard case,” replied Hanlon, “but still we must put up with our + lot. His father I'm tould was as poor in the beginnin' as either of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but it's the son we're spakin about—the ould tyrannical villain + that dhrives an' harries the poor! He has loads of money in the house, + they say—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a know myself knows, Rody:—nor—not makin' you an ill + answer—divil a hair myself cares, Rody. Let him have much, or let + him have little, that's your share an' mine of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Charley, they say America's a fine place; talkin' about money—wid a + little money there, they say a man could do wondhers.” + </p> + <p> + “Who says that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why Donnel Dhu, for one; an' he knows, for he was there.” + </p> + <p> + “I b'lieve that Donnel was many a place;—over half the world, if + all's thrue.” + </p> + <p> + “Augh! the same Donnel's a quare fellow—a deep chap—a cute + follow; but, I know more about him than you think—ay, do I.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “No matther—a thing or two about the same Donnel; an' by the same + token, a betther fellow never lived—an' whisper—you're a + strong favorite wid him, that I know, for we wor talkin' about you. In the + meantime I wish to goodness we had a good scud o' cash among us, an' we + safe an' snug in America! Now shake hands an' good bye—an' mark me—if + you dhrame of America an' a long purse any o' these nights, come to me an' + I'll riddle your dhrame for you.” + </p> + <p> + He then looked Hanlon significantly in the face, wrung his hand, and left + him to meditate on the purport of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + The latter as he went out gazed at him with a good deal of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “So,” thought he, “you were feelin' my pulse, were you? I don't think it's + hard to guess whereabouts you are; however I'll think of your advice at + any rate, an' see what good may be in it. But, in the name of all that's + wondherful, how does it come to pass that that red ruffian has sich + authority over Sarah M'Gowan as to make her fetch me the very thing I + want?—that tobacco-box; an' at sich a place, too, an' sich an hour! + An' yet he says that she doesn't like a bone in his skin, which I b'lieve! + I'm fairly in the dark here; however time will make it all clear, I hope; + an' for that we must wait.” + </p> + <p> + He then resumed his employment. + </p> + <p> + Donnel Dhu, who was a man of much energy and activity, whenever his + purposes required it, instead of turning his steps homewards, directed + them to the house of our kind friend Jerry Sullivan, with whose daughter, + the innocent and unsuspecting Mave, it was his intention to have another + private interview. During the interval that had elapsed since his last + journey to the house of this virtuous and hospitable family, the gloom + that darkened the face of the country had become awful, and such as + wofully bore out to the letter the melancholy truth of his own + predictions. Typhus fever had now set in, and was filling the land with + fearful and unexampled desolation. Famine, in all cases the source and + origin of contagion, had done, and was still doing, its work. The early + potato crop, for so far as it had come in, was a pitiable failure; the + quantity being small, and the quality watery and bad. The oats, too, and + all early grain of that season's growth, were still more deleterious as + food, for it had all fermented and become sour, so that the use of it, and + of the bad potatoes, too, was the most certain means of propagating the + pestilence which was sweeping away the people in such multitudes. Scarcely + any thing presented itself to him as he went along that had not some + melancholy association with death or its emblems. To all this, however, he + paid little or no attention. When a funeral met him, he merely turned back + three steps in the direction it went, as was usual; but unless he happened + to know the family from which death had selected its victim, he never even + took the trouble of inquiring who it was they bore to the grave—a + circumstance which strongly proved the utter and heartless selfishness of + the man's nature. On arriving at Sullivan's, however, he could not help + feeling startled, hard and without sympathy as was his heart, at the wild + and emaciated evidences of misery and want which a couple of weeks' severe + suffering had impressed upon them. The gentle Mave herself, patient and + uncomplaining as she was, had become thin and cheerless; yet of such a + character was the sadness that rested upon her, that it only added a + mournful and melancholy charm to her beauty—a charm that touched the + heart of the beholder at once with love and compassion. As yet there had + been no sickness among them; but who could say to-day that he or she might + not be stricken down at once before to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “Donnel,” said Sullivan, after he had taken a seat, “how you came to + prophecy what would happen, an' what has happened, is to me a wondher; but + sure enough, <i>fareer gair</i>, (* bitter misfortune) it has all come to + pass.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell myself,” replied the other, “how I do it; all I know is, + that the words come into my mouth, an' I can't help spakin' them. At any + rate, that's not surprisin'. I'm the seventh son of the seventh son, + afther seven generations; that is I'm the seventh seventh son that was in + our family; an' you must know that the knowledge increases as they go on. + Every seventh son knows more than thim that wint before him till it comes + to the last, and he knows more than thim all. There were six seventh sons + before me, so that I'm the last; for it was never known since the world + began that ever more than seven afther one another had the gift of + prophecy in the same family. That's the raison, you see, that I have no + sons—the knowledge ends wid me.” + </p> + <p> + “It's very strange,” replied Sullivan, “an' not to be accounted for by any + one but God—glory be to his name!” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange—an' when I find that I'm goin' to foretell any thing + that's bad or unlucky, I feel great pain or uneasiness in my mind—but + on the other hand, when I am to prophesy what's good, I get quite + light-hearted and aisy—I'm all happiness. An' that's the way I feel + now, an' has felt for the last day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to God, Donnel,” said Mrs. Sullivan, “that you could prophesize + something good for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Or,” continued her charitable and benevolent husband, “for the thousands + of poor creatures that wants it more still than we do—sure it's + thankful to the Almighty we ought to be—an' is, I hope—that + this woful sickness hasn't come upon us yet. Even Condy Dalton an' his + family—ay, God be praised for givin' me the heart to do it—I + can forgive him and them.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say them, Jerry ahagur,” observed his wife, “we never had any bad + feelin' against them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” continued the husband, “I can forgive him an' all o' them + now—for God help them, they're in a state of most heart-breakin' + distitution, livin' only upon the bits that the poor starvin' neighbors is + able to crib from their own hungry mouths for them!” And here the tears—the + tears that did honor not only to him, but to human nature and his country—rolled + slowly down his emaciated cheeks, for the deep distress to which the man + that he believed to be the murdherer of his brother had been. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Donnel,” said Mrs. Sullivan, “it would be a hard an' uncharitable + heart that wouldn't relent if it knew what they are suffering. Young Con + is jist risin' out of the faver that was in the family, and it would wring + your—” + </p> + <p> + A glance at Mave occasioned her to pause. The gentle girl, upon whom the + Prophet had kept his eye during the whole conversation, had been + reflecting, in her wasted but beautiful features, both the delicacy and + depth of the sympathy that had been expressed for the unhappy Daltons. + Sometimes she became pale as ashes, and again her complexion assumed the + subdued hue of the wild rose; for—alas that we must say it—sorrow + and suffering—in other words, want, in its almost severest form, had + thrown its melancholy hue over the richness of her blush—which, on + this occasion, borrowed a delicate grace from distress itself. Such, + indeed, was her beauty, and so gently and serenely did her virtues shine + through it, that it mattered not to what condition of calamity they were + subjected; in every situation they seemed to shed some new and unexpected + charm upon the eyes of those who looked upon her. The mother, we said on + glancing at her, paused—but the chord of love and sorrow had been + touched, and poor Mave, unable any longer to restrain her feelings, burst + out into tears, and wept aloud on heading the name and sufferings of her + lover. Her father looked at her, and his brow got sad; but there was no + longer the darkness of resentment or indignation there; so true is it that + suffering chastens the heart into its noblest affections, and purges it of + the gloomier and grosser passions. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mave,” he exclaimed, “when I let the tears down for the man that has + my doother's blood on his hands, it's no wonder you, should cry for him + you love so well.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear father,” she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms, and + embracing him tenderly, “I feel no misery nor sorrow now—the words + you have spoken have made me happy. All these sufferings will pass away; + for it cannot be but God will, sooner or later, reward your piety and + goodness. Oh, if I could do anything for—for—for any one,” and + she blushed as she spoke; “but I cannot. There is nothing here that I can + do at home; but if I could go out and work by the day, I'd do it an' be + happy, in ordher to help the—that—-family that's now brought + so low, and that's so much to be pitied!” + </p> + <p> + We have already said that the Prophet's eye had been bent upon her ever + since he came into the house, but it was with an expression of benignity + and affection which, notwithstanding the gloomy character of his + countenance, no one could more plausibly or willingly assume. + </p> + <p> + Mave, in the mean time, could scarcely bear to look upon him; and it was + quite clear from her manner that she had, since their last mysterious + interview, once more fallen back into those feelings of strong aversion + with which she had regarded him at first. M'Gowan saw this, and without + much difficulty guessed at the individual who had been instrumental in + producing the change. + </p> + <p> + “God pardon an' forgive me,” he exclaimed, as if giving unconscious + utterance to his I own reflections—“for what I had thoughts of about + that darlin' an' lovely girl; but sure I'll make it up to her; an', + indeed, I feel the words of goodness that's to befall her breakin' out o' + my lips. <i>A colleen dhas</i>, I had some private discoorse wid you when + I was here last, an' will you let me spake a few words to you by ourselves + agin?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “I'll hear nothing from you: I don't like you—I + can't like you, an' I I'll hold no private discoorse with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, but that voice is music itself, an' you are, by all accounts, + the best of girls; I but sure we have all turned over a new leaf, poor + child. I discovered how I was taken in an' dasaved; but sure I can't ait + you—an' a sweet morsel you'd be, <i>a lanna dhas</i>—nor' can + I run away wid you—an' I seen the day that it's not my heart would + hinder me to do that same. Oh, my goodness, what a head o' hair! an' + talkin' about that—you undherstand—I'd like to have a word or + two wid yourself.' + </p> + <p> + “Say whatever you have to say before my father and mother, then,” she + replied; “I have no—” she paused a moment and seemed embarrassed. + The Prophet, who skilfully threw in the allusion to her hair, guessed the + words she was on the point of uttering, and availing' himself of her + difficulty, seemed to act as if she had completed what she was about to + say. + </p> + <p> + “I know, dear,” he added, “you have no saicrets from them: I'm glad to + hear it, an' for that raison I'm willin' to say what I had to say in their + presence; so far as I'm concerned, it makes no difference.” + </p> + <p> + The allusion to her hair; added to the last observations, reminded her + that it might be possible that he had some message from her lover, and she + consequently seemed to waver a little, as if struggling against her + strong, instinctive abhorrence of him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afeard, Mave dear,” said her mother, “sure, poor honest Donnel + wishes you well, an' won't prophesize any harm to you. Go with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, achora,” added the father; “Donnel can have nothing to say to you + that can have any harm in it—go for a minute or two, since he wishes + it.” + </p> + <p> + Reluctantly, and with an indomitable feeling against the man, she went + out, and stood under the shelter of a little elder hedge that adjoined the + house. + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me,” she asked, quickly, “what is it you have to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I gave young Condy Dalton the purty ringlet of hair you sent him.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” he replied, “till I tould him it was the last token that ever + you could send him afther what your father said to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he cursed your father, an' said he desirved to get his neck broke.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe that,” she replied, “I know he never said them words, or + anything like them. Don't mislead me, but tell me what he did say.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! poor Mave,” he replied, “you little know what hot blood runs in the + Daltons' veins. He said very little that was creditable to himself—an' + indeed I won't repate it—but it was enough to make any girl of + spirit have done wid him.” + </p> + <p> + “An' don't you know,” she replied, mournfully, “that I have done with him; + an' that there never can be anything but sorrow and good will between us? + Wasn't that my message to him by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “It was, dear, an' I hope you're still of the same mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” she said; “but you are not tellin' me the truth about him. He + never spoke disrespectfully of my father or me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, asthore, he did not then—oh, the sorra syllable—oh + no; if I said so, don't believe me.” And yet the very words he uttered, in + consequence of the meaning which, they received from his manner, made an + impression directly the reverse of their natural import. + </p> + <p> + “Well then,” she said, “that's all you have to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “it is not; I want to know from you when you'll be goin' + to your uncle's, at Mullaghmore.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” replied the artless and unsuspicious girl, without a moment's + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said he, “you pass the Grey Stone, at the foot of + Mallybenagh—of coorse, I know you must. Now, my dear Mave, I want to + show you that I have some insight into futurity. What hour will you pass + it at?” + </p> + <p> + “About three o'clock, as near as I think; it may be a little more or a + little less.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, acushlee; when you pass the Grey Stone about a few hundred + yards on the right hand side, the first person you will meet will be a + young man, well made, and very handsome. That young man will be the + person, whosoever he is—an' I don't know myself—that will + bring you love, and wealth, and happiness, and all that a woman can wish + to have with a man. Nor, dear, if this doesn't happen, never b'lieve + anything I say again; but if this does happen, I hope you'll have good + sense, <i>acushla machree</i>, to be guided by one that's your true friend—an' + that's myself. The first person you meet, afther passin' the Grey Stone, + on your right hand side; remember the words. I know there's great luck an' + high fortune before you; for, indeed, your beauty an' goodness well + desarves it, an' they'll get both.” + </p> + <p> + They then returned into the house; Mave somewhat surprised, but no way + relieved, while the Prophet seemed rather in better spirits by the + interview. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jerry Sullivan,” said he, “an' you, Bridget his wife, lend your ears + an' listen. The heart of Prophet is full of good to you and yours, and the + good must come to his lips, and flow from them when it comes. There are + three books known to the wise: the Book of Marriage, the Book of Death, + and the Book of Judgment. Open a leaf, says the Angel of Marriage—the + Garden Angel of Jericho—where he brings all love, happiness and + peace to; open a' leaf, says the Angel of Marriage—him that has one + head and ten horns—and read us a page of futurity from the prophecy + of St. Nebbychodanazor, the divine. The child is a faymale child, says the + angel with one head and ten horns—by name Mabel Sullivan, daughter + to honest Jerry Sullivan and his daicent wife Bridget, of Aughnamurrin. + Amin, says the Prophet. Time is not tide, nor is tide time, and neither + will wait for man. Three things will happen. A girl, young and handsome, + will walk forth upon the highway, and there she will meet a man, young and + handsome too, who will rise her to wealth, happiness and grandeur. So be + it, says the Book of Marriage, and amin, agin, says the Prophet. Open a + new leaf, says Nebbychodanazor, the divine; a new leaf in the Book of + Judgment, and another in the Book of Death. A man was killed and his body + hid, and a man lived with his blood upon him. Fate is fate, and Justice is + near. For years he will keep the murther to himself, till a man's to come + that will bring him to judgment. Then will judgment be passed, and the + Book of Death will be opened. Read, says the Prophet; it is done at last; + Judgment is passed, and Death follows; the innocent is set free, and the + murdherer that consaled the murdher so long swings at last; and all these + things is to be found by the Wise in the Books of Marriage, Death, and + Judgment. He then added, as he had done at the conclusion of his former + prophecy: + </p> + <p> + “Be kind and indulgent to your daughter, for she'll soon make all your + fortunes; an' take care of her and yourselves till I see yez again.” + </p> + <p> + As before, he gave them no further opportunity of asking for explanations, + but immediately departed; and as if he had been moved by some new impulse + or afterthought, he directed his steps once more to the Grange, where he + saw young Henderson, with whom he had another private interview, of the + purport of which our readers may probably form a tolerably accurate + conjecture. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — Mysterious Disappearance of the Tobacco-box. + </h2> + <p> + M'Gowan's mind, at this period of our narrative, was busily engaged in + arranging his plans—for we need scarcely add here, that whether + founded on justice or not, he had more than one ripening. Still there + preyed upon him a certain secret anxiety, from which, by no effort, could + he succeed in ridding himself. The disappearance of the Tobacco-box kept + him so ill at ease and unhappy, that he resolved, on his way home, to make + a last effort at finding it out, if it could be done; and many a time did + he heartily curse his own stupidity for ever having suffered it to remain + in his house or about it, especially when it was so easy to destroy it. + His suspicions respecting it most certainly rested upon. Nelly, whom he + now began to regard with a feeling of both hatred and alarm. Sarah, he + knew, had little sympathy with him; but then he also knew that there + existed less in common between her and Nelly. He thought, therefore, that + his wisest plan would be to widen the breach of ill-feeling between them + more and more, and thus to secure himself, if possible, of Sarah's + co-operation and confidence, if not from affection or good feeling towards + himself, at least from ill-will towards her step-mother. For this reason, + therefore, as well as for others of equal, if not of more importance, he + came to the determination of taking, to a certain extent, Sarah into his + confidence, and thus making not only her quickness and activity, but her + impetuosity and resentments, useful to his designs. It was pretty late + that night, when he reached home; and, as he had devoted the only portion + of his time that remained between his arrival and bed-time, to a + description of the unsettled state of the country, occasioned by what were + properly called the Famine Outrages, that were then beginning to take + place, he made no allusion to anything connected with his projects, to + either Nelly or his daughter, the latter of whom, by the way, had been out + during the greater part of the evening. The next morning, however, he + asked her to take a short stroll with him along the river, which she did; + and both returned, after having had at least an hour's conversation—Sarah, + with a flushed cheek and indignant eye, and her father, with his brow + darkened, and his voice quivering from suppressed resentment; so that, so + far as observation went, their interview and communication had not been + very agreeable on either side. After breakfast, Sarah put on her cloak and + bonnet, and was about to go out, when her father said— + </p> + <p> + “Pray, ma'am, where are you goin' now?” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't signify,” she replied; “but at all events you needn't ax me, + for I won't tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of answer is that to give me? Do you forget that I'm your + father?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could; for indeed I am sorry you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know,” observed Nelly, “she was always a dutiful girl—always + a quiet good crathur. Why, you onbiddable sthrap, what kind o' an answer + is that to give to your father?” + </p> + <p> + Ever since their stroll that morning, Sarah's eyes had been turned from + time to time upon her step-mother with flash after flash of burning + indignation, and now that she addressed her, she said— + </p> + <p> + “Woman, you don't know how I scorn you! Oh, you mane an' wicked wretch, + had you no pride during all your life! It's but a short time you an' I + will be undher the same roof together—an' so far as I am consarned, + I'll not stoop ever to bandy abuse or ill tongue with you again. I know + only one other person that is worse an' meaner still than you are—an' + there, I am sorry to say, he stands in the shape of my father.” + </p> + <p> + She walked out of the cabin with a flushed check, and a step that was full + of disdain, and a kind of natural pride that might almost be termed + dignity. Both felt rebuked; and Nelly, whose face got blanched and pale at + Sarah's words, now turned upon the Prophet with a scowl.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be possible,” said she, “that you'd dare to let out anything to + that madcap?” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “that the coast is clear, I desire you to answer me a + question that I'll put to you—an' mark my words—by all that s + above us, an' undher us, an' about us, if you don't spake thruth, I'll be + apt to make short work of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she inquired, looking at him with cool and collected + resentment, and an eye that was perfectly fearless. + </p> + <p> + “There was a Tobaccy-Box about this house, or in this house. Do you know + anything about it?” + </p> + <p> + “A tobaccy-box—is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, a tobaccy-box.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, an' what about it? What do you want wid it? An ould, rusty + Tobaccy-box; musha, is that what's throublin' you this mornin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he darkening, “I'll have no humbuggin'—answer me at + wanst. Do you know anything about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it about your ould, rusty Tobaccy-box? Arrah, what 'ud I know about + it? What the sorra would a man like you do wid a Tobaccy-box, that doesn't + ever smoke? Is it mad or ravin' you are? Somehow I think the stroll you + had wid the vagabone gipsy of a daughter of yours, hasn't put you into the + best of timper, or her aither. I hope you didn't act the villain on me: + for she looks at me as if she could ait me widout salt. But, indeed, she's + takin' on her own hands finely of late; she's gettin' too proud to answer + me now when I ax her a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't you ax her as you ought?” + </p> + <p> + “She was out all yesterday evenin', and when I said 'You idle sthrap, + where wor you?' she wouldn't even think it worth her while to give me an + answer, the vagabone.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you give me one in the manetime. What about the Box I want? Spake the + truth, if you regard your health.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about your box, an' I wish I could say as much of + yourself. However, I won't long trouble you, that I can tell you—ay, + an' her too. She needn't fear that I'll be long undher the same roof wid + her. I know, any way, I wouldn't be safe. She would only stick me in one + of her fits, now that she's able to fight me.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Nelly,” said the Prophet, deliberately shutting the door, “I know + you to be a hardened woman, that has little fear in your heart. I think + you know me, too, to be a hardened and a determined man. There, now, I + have shut an' boulted the door an' by Him that made me, you'll never lave + this house, nor go out of that door a livin' woman, unless you tell me all + you know about that Tobaccy-Box. Now you know my mind an' my coorse—act + as you like now.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! Do you think to frighten me?” she asked, laughing derisively. + “Me!—oh, how much you're mistaken, if you think so! Not that I don't + believe you to be dangerous, an' a man that one ought to fear; but I have + no fear of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Answer me quickly,” he replied—and as he spoke, he seized the very + same knife from which she had so narrowly escaped in her conflict with + Sarah—“answer me, I say; an' mark, I have no reason to wish you + alive.” + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke, the glare in his eyes flashed and became fearful. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said she, “there's your daughter's look an' the same knife, too, + that was near doin' for me wanst. Well, don't think that it's fear makes + me say what I'm goin' to say; but that's the same knife; an' besides I + dhramed last night that I was dressed in a black cloak—an' a black + cloak, they say, is death! Ay, death—an' I know I'm not fit to die, + or to meet judgment, an' you know that too. Now, then, tell me what it is + you want wid the Box.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/pageBP847.jpg" + alt="Page 847-- I'll Tell You Nothing About It " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “No,” he replied, sternly and imperatively, “I'll tell you nothing about + it; but get it at wanst, before my passion rises higher and deadlier.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, mark me, I'm not afeard of you—but I have the box.” + </p> + <p> + “An' how did you come by it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sarah was lookin' for a cobweb to stop the blood where she cut me in our + fight the other day, an' it came tumblin' out of a cranny in the wall.” + </p> + <p> + “An' where is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get it for you,” she replied; “but you must let me out first.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it's not in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “An' where is it? Don't think you'll escape me.” + </p> + <p> + “It's in the thatch o' the roof.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet deliberately opened the door, and catching her by the + shoulder, held her prisoner, as it were, until she should make her words + good. The roof was but low, and she knew the spot too well to make any + mistake about it. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said she, “is the cross I scraped on the stone undher the place.” + </p> + <p> + She put up her hand as she spoke, and searched the spot—but in vain. + There certainly was the cross as she had marked it, and there was the + slight excavation under the thatch where it had been; but as for the box + itself, all search for it was fruitless—it had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — National Calamity—Sarah in Love and Sorrow. + </h2> + <p> + The astonishment of the Prophet's wife on discovering that the Tobacco-box + had been removed from the place of its concealment was too natural to + excite any suspicion of deceit or falsehood on her part, and he himself, + although his disappointment was dreadful on finding that it had + disappeared, at once perceived that she had been perfectly ignorant of its + removal. With his usual distrust and want of confidence, however, he + resolved to test her truth a little further, lest by any possibility she + might have deceived him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Nelly,” said he sternly, “mark me—is this the way you produce + the box? You acknowledge that you had it—that you hid it even—an' + now, when I tell you I want it, an' that it may be a matther of life an' + death to me—you purtend its gone, an' that you know nothing about it—I + say again, mark me well—produce the box!” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” she replied, chafed and indignant as well at its disappearance as + at the obstinacy of his suspicions—“here's my throat—dash your + knife into it, if you like—but as for the box, I tell you, that + although I did put it in there, you know as much about it now as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “for wanst I believe you—but mark me still—this + box munt be gotten, an' it's to you I'll look for it. That's all—you + know me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” she replied, “I know you.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh—what do you mane by that?” he asked—“what do you know? + come now; I say, what do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “That you're a hardened and a bad man:—oh! you needn't brandish your + knife—nor your eyes needn't blaze up that way, like your + daughter's,” she added, “except that you're hard an' dark, and widout one + spark o' common feelin', I know nothin' particularly wicked about you—but, + at the same time, I suspect enough.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you suspect, you hardened vagabond?” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matther what I suspect,” she answered; “only I think you'd + have bad heart for anything—so go about your business, for I want to + have nothing more either to do or say to you—an' I wish to glory I + had been always of that way o' thinkin', <i>a chiernah!</i>—many a + scalded heart I'd a missed that I got by you.” + </p> + <p> + She then walked into the cabin, and the Prophet slowly followed her with + his fixed, doubtful and suspicious eye, after which he flung the knife on + the threshold, and took his way, in a dark and disappointed mood, towards + Glendhu. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible for us here to detail the subject matter of his + reflections, or to intimate to our readers how far his determination to + bring Condy Dalton to justice originated in repentance for having + concealed his knowledge of the murder, or in some other less justifiable + state of feeling. At this moment, indeed, the family of the Daltons wore + in anything but a position to bear the heavy and terrible blow which was + about to fail upon them. Our readers cannot forget the pitiable state in + which we left them, during that distressing crisis of misery, when the + strange woman arrived with the oat-meal, which the kind-hearted Mave + Sullivan had so generously sent them. On that melancholy occasion her + lover complained of being ill, and, unfortunately, the symptoms were, in + this instance, too significant of the malady which followed them. Indeed, + it would be an infliction of unnecessary pain to detail here the + sufferings which this unhappy family had individually and collectively + borne. Young Condy, after a fortnight's prostration from typhus fever, was + again upon his legs, tottering about, as his father had been, in a state + of such helplessness between want of food on the one hand, and illness on + the other, as it is distressing even to contemplate. If, however, the + abstract consideration of it, even at a distance, be a matter of such + painful retrospect to the mind, what must not the actual endurance of that + and worse have been to the thousands upon thousands of families who were + obliged, by God's mysterious dispensation, to encounter these calamities + in all their almost incredible and hideous reality. + </p> + <p> + At this precise period, the state of the country was frightful beyond + belief; for it is well known that the mortality of the season we are + describing was considerably greater than that which even cholera + occasioned in its worst and most malignant ravages. Indeed, the latter was + not attended by such a tedious and lingering train of miseries as that, + which in so many woful shapes, surrounded typhus fever. The appearance of + cholera was sudden, and its operations quick, and although, on that + account, it was looked upon with tenfold terror, yet for this very reason, + the consequences which it produced were by no means so full of affliction + and distress, nor presented such strong and pitiable claims on human aid + and sympathy as did those of typhus. In the one case, the victim was cut + down by a sudden stroke, which occasioned a shock or moral paralysis both + to himself and the survivors—especially to the latter—that + might, be almost said to neutralize its own inflictions. In the other, the + approach was comparatively so slow and gradual, that all the sympathies + and afflictions were allowed full and painful time to reach the utmost + limits of human suffering, and to endure the wasting series of those + struggles and details which long illness, surrounded by destitution and + affliction, never fails to inflict. In the cholera, there was no time left + to feel—the passions were wrenched and stunned by a blow, which was + over, one may say, before it could be perceived; while in the wide-spread + but more tedious desolation of typhus, the heart was left to brood over + the thousand phases of love and misery which the terrible realities of the + one, joined to the alarming exaggerations of the other, never failed to + present. In cholera, a few hours, and all was over; but in the awful fever + which then prevailed, there was the gradual approach—the protracted + illness—the long nights of racking pain—day after day of + raging torture—and the dark period of uncertainty when the balance + of human life hangs in the terrible equilibrium of suspense—all + requiring the exhibition of constant attention—of the eye whose + affection never sleeps—the ear that is deaf only to every sound but + the moan of pain—the touch whose tenderness is felt as a solace, so + long as suffering itself is conscious—the pressure of the aching + head—the moistening of the parched and burning lips—and the + numerous and indescribable offices of love and devotedness, which always + encompass, or should encompass, the bed of sickness and of death. There + was, we say, all this, and much more than the imagination itself, unaided + by a severe acquaintance with the truth, could embody in its gloomiest + conceptions. + </p> + <p> + In fact, Ireland during the season, or rather the year, we are describing, + might be compared to one vast lazar-house filled with famine, disease and + death. The very skies of Heaven were hung with the black drapery of the + grave; for never since, nor within the memory of man before it, did the + clouds present shapes of such gloomy and funereal import. Hearses, + coffins, long funeral processions, and all the dark emblems of mortality + were reflected, as it were, on the sky, from the terrible work of + pestilence and famine, which was going forward on the earth beneath them. + To all this, the thunder and lightning too, were constantly adding their + angry peals, and flashing, as if uttering the indignation of Heaven + against our devoted people; and what rendered such fearful manifestations + ominous and alarming to the superstitious, was the fact of their + occurrence in the evening and at night—circumstances which are + always looked upon With unusual terror and dismay. + </p> + <p> + To any person passing through the country, such a combination of startling + and awful appearances was presented as has probably never been witnessed + since. Go where you might, every object reminded you of the fearful + desolation that was progressing around you. The features of the people + were gaunt, their eyes wild and hollow, and their gait feeble and + tottering. Pass through the fields, and you were met by little groups + bearing home on their shoulders, and that with difficulty, a coffin, or + perhaps two of them. The roads were literally black with funerals, and as + you passed along from parish to parish, the death-bells were pealing + forth, in slow but dismal tones, the gloomy triumph which pestilence was + achieving over the face of our devoted country—a country that each + successive day filled with darker desolation and deeper mourning. + </p> + <p> + Nor was this all. The people had an alarmed and unsettled aspect; and + whether you met them as individuals or crowds, they seemed, when closely + observed, to labor under some strong and insatiable want that rendered + them almost reckless. The number of those who were reduced to mendicancy + was incredible, and if it had not been for the extraordinary and + unparalleled exertions of the clergy of all creeds, medical, men, and + local committees, thousands upon thousands would have perished of disease + or hunger on the highways. Many, indeed, did so perish; and it was no + unusual sight to meet the father and mother, accompanied by their + children, going they knew not whither, and to witness one or other of them + lying down on the road side; and well were they off who could succeed in + obtaining a sheaf of straw, on which, as a luxury, to lay down their + aching head, that was never more to rise from it, until borne, in a parish + shell, to a shallow and hasty grave. + </p> + <p> + Temporary sheds were also erected on the road sides, or near them, + containing fever-stricken patients, who had no other-home; and when they + were released, at last, from their sorrows, nothing was more common than + to place the coffin on the road side also, with a plate on the lid of it, + in order to solicit, from those who passed, such aid as they could afford + to the sick or starving survivors. + </p> + <p> + That, indeed, was the trying and melancholy period in which all the + lingering traces of self-respect—all recollection of former + independence—all sense of modesty was cast to the winds. Under the + terrible pressure of the complex destitution which prevailed, everything + like shame was forgotten, and it was well known that whole families, who + had hitherto been respectable and independent, were precipitated, almost + at once, into all the common cant of importunity and clamor during this + frightful struggle between life and death. Of the truth of this, the + scenes which took place at the public Soup Shops, and other appointed + places of relief, afforded melancholy proof. Here were wild crowds, + ragged, sickly, and wasted away to skin and bone, struggling for the dole + of charity, like so many hungry vultures about the remnant of some carcase + which they were tearing, amid noise, and screams, and strife, into very + shreds; for, as we have said, all sense of becoming restraint and shame + was now abandoned, and the timid girl, or modest mother of a family, or + decent farmer, goaded by the same wild and tyrannical cravings, urged + their claims with as much turbulent solicitation and outcry, as if they + had been trained, since their very infancy, to all the forms of impudent + cant and imposture. + </p> + <p> + This, our readers will admit, was a most deplorable state of things; but, + unfortunately, we cannot limit the truth of our descriptions to the scenes + we have just attempted to portray. The misery which prevailed, as it had + more than one source, so had it more than one aspect. There were, in the + first place, studded over the country, a vast number of strong farmers + with bursting granaries and immense haggards, who, without coming under + the odious denomination of misers or mealmongers, are in the habit of + keeping up their provisions, in large quantities, because they can afford + to do so, until a year of scarcity arrives, when they draw upon their + stock precisely when famine and prices are both at their highest. In + addition to these, there was another still viler class; we mean the + hard-hearted and well known misers—men who, at every time, and in + every season, prey upon the distress and destitution of the poor, and who + can never look upon a promising spring or an abundant harvest, without an + inward sense of ingratitude against God for his goodness, or upon a season + of drought, or a failing crop, unless with a thankful feeling of devotion + for the approaching calamity. + </p> + <p> + During such periods, and under such circumstances, these men—including + those of both classes—and the famished people, in general, live and + act under antagonistic principles. Hunger, they say, will break through + stone walls, and when we reflect, that in addition to this irresistible + stimulus, we may add a spirit of strong prejudice and resentment against + these heartless persons, it is not surprising that the starving multitudes + should, in the ravening madness of famine, follow up its outrageous + impulses, and forget those legal restraints, or moral principles, that + protect property under ordinary or different circumstances. It was just at + this precise period, therefore, that the people, impelled by hunger and + general misery, began to burst out into that excited stupefaction which + is, we believe, peculiar to famine riots. And what rendered them still + more exasperated than they probably would have been, was the long lines of + provision carts which met or intermingled with the funerals on the public + thoroughfares, while on their way to the neighboring harbors, for + exportation. Such, indeed, was the extraordinary fact! Day after day, + vessels laden with Irish provisions, drawn from a population perishing + with actual hunger, as well as with the pestilence which it occasioned, + were passing out of our ports, while, singular as it may seem, other + vessels came in freighted with our own provisions, sent back through the + charity of England to our relief. + </p> + <p> + It is not our business, any more than it is our inclination, to dwell here + upon the state of those sumptuary enactments, which reflected such honor + upon the legislative wisdom, that permitted our country to arrive at the + lamentable condition we have attempted to describe. We merely mention the + facts, and leave to those who possess position and ability, the task of + giving to this extraordinary state of things a more effectual attention. + Without the least disposition, however, to defend or justify any violation + of the laws, we may be permitted to observe, that the very witnessing of + such facts as these, by destitute and starving multitudes, was in itself + such a temptation to break in upon the provisions thus transmitted, as it + was scarcely within the strength of men, furious with famine, to resist. + Be this as it may, however, it is our duty as a faithful historian to + state, that at the present period of our narrative, the famine riots had + begun to assume something of an alarming aspect. Several carts had been + attacked and pillaged, some strong farmers had been visited, and two or + three misers were obliged to become benevolent with rather a bad grace. At + the head of these parties were two persons mentioned in these pages; to + wit, Thomas Dalton and Red Eody Duncan, together with several others of + various estimation and character; some of them, as might be naturally + expected, the most daring and turbulent spirits in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + Such, then, was the miserable state of things in the country at that + particular period. The dreadful typhus was now abroad in all his deadly + power, accompanied, on this occasion, as he always is among the Irish, by + a panic which invested him with tenfold terrors. The moment fever was + ascertained, or even supposed to visit a family, that moment the infected + persons were avoided by their neighbors and friends, as if they carried + death, as they often did, about them; so that its presence occasioned all + the usual interchanges of civility and good neighborhood to be + discontinued. Nor should this excite our wonder, inasmuch as this terrific + scourge, though unquestionably an epidemic, was also ascertained to be + dangerously and fatally contagious. None, then, but persons of + extraordinary moral strength, or possessing powerful impressions of + religious duty, had courage to enter the houses of the sick or dead, for + the purpose of rendering to the afflicted those offices of humanity which + their circumstances required; if we except only their nearest relatives, + or those who lived in the same family. + </p> + <p> + Having thus endeavored to give what we feel to be but a faint picture of + the state of the kingdom at large in this memorable year, we beg our + readers to accompany us once more to the cabin of our moody and mysterious + friend, the Black Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Evening was now tolerably far advanced; Donnel Dhu sat gloomily, as usual, + looking into the fire, with no agreeable aspect; while on the opposite + side sat Nelly, as silent and nearly as gloomy-looking as himself. Every + now and then his black, piercing eye would stray over to her, as if in a + state of abstraction, and again with that undetermined kind of + significance which made it doubtful whether the subject-matter of his + cogitations was connected with her at all or not. In this position were + they placed when Sarah entered the cabin, and throwing aside her cloak, + seated herself in front of the fire, something about halfway between each. + She also appeared moody; and if one could judge by her countenance, felt + equally disposed to melancholy or ill-temper. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madam,” said her father, “I hope it's no offence to ask you where + you have been sportin' yourself since? I suppose you went to see Charley + Hanlon; or, what is betther, his masther, young Dick o' the Grange?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “I did not. Charley Hanlon! Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, his masther?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't vex me—don't vex me,” she replied, abruptly; “I don't wish to + fight about nothing, or about thrifles, or to give bad answers; but still, + don't vex me, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “There's something in the wind now,” observed Nelly; “she's gettin' fast + into one o' her tantrums. I know it by her eyes; she'd as soon whale me + now as cry; and she'd jist as soon cry as whale me. Oh! my lady, I know + you. Here, at any rate, will you have your supper?” + </p> + <p> + The resentment which had been gathering at Nelly's coarse observations, + disappeared the moment the question as to supper had been put to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! why don't you,” she said; “and why didn't you always spake to me in a + kind voice?” + </p> + <p> + “But about young Dick,” said the suspicious prophet; “did you see him + since?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, calmly and thoughtfully; but, as if catching, by + reflection, the base import of the query, she replied, in a loud and + piercing voice, rendered at once full and keen by indignation. “No! I say, + an' don't dare to suspect me of goin' to Dick o' the Grange, or any sich + profligate.” + </p> + <p> + “Hollo! there's a breeze!” After a pause, “You won't bate us, I hope. + Then, madame, where were you?” + </p> + <p> + Short as was the period that had passed since her reply and the putting of + this last question, she had relapsed or fallen into a mood of such + complete abstraction, that she heard him not. With her naturally beautiful + and taper hand under her still more finely chiseled chin, she sat looking, + in apparent sorrow and perplexity, into the fire, and while so engaged, + she sighed deeply two or three times. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind her, man,” said Nelly; “let her alone, an' don't draw an ould + house on our heads. She has had a fight with Charley Hanlon, I suppose; + maybe he has refused to marry her, if he ever had any notion of it—which + I don't think he had.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah rose up and approaching her, said: + </p> + <p> + “What is that you wor saying? Charley Hanlon!—never name him an' me + together, from this minute out. I like him well enough as an acquaintance, + but never name us together as sweethearts—mark my words now. I would + go any length to sarve Charley Hanlon, but I care nothin' for him beyond + an acquaintance, although I did like him a little, or I thought I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Charley!” exclaimed Nelly, “he'll break his heart. Arra what'll he + do for a piece o' black crape to get into murnin'? eh—ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “If you had made use of them words to me only yesterday,” she replied, + “I'd punish you on the spot; but now, you unfortunate woman, you're below + my anger. Say what you will or what you wish, another quarrel with you I + will never have.” + </p> + <p> + “What does she mane?” said the other, looking fiercely at the Prophet; “I + ax you, you traitor, what she manes?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' you'll ax me till you're hoarse, before you get an answer,” he + replied. + </p> + <p> + “You're a dark an' deep villain,” she uttered, while her face became + crimson with rage, and the veins of her neck and temples swelled out as if + they would burst; “however, I tould you what your fate would be, an' that + Providence was on your bloody trail. Ay did I, and you'll find it true + soon.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet rose and rushed at her; but Sarah, with the quickness of + lightning, flew between them. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be so mane,” she said—“don't now, father, if you rise your + hand to her I'll never sleep a night undher the roof. Why don't you + separate yourself from her? Oh, no, the man that would rise his hand to + sich a woman—to a woman that must have the conscience she has—especially + when he could put the salt seas between himself an' her—is worse and + meaner than she is. As for me, I'm lavin' this house in a day or two, for + my mind's made up that the same roof won't cover us.” + </p> + <p> + “The divil go wid you an' sixpence then,” replied Nelly, disdainfully—“an' + then you'll want neither money nor company; but before you go, I'd thank + you to tell me what has become o' the ould Tobaccy Box, that you pulled + out o' the wall the other day. I know you were lookin' for it, an' I'm + sure you got it—there was no one else to take it; so before you go, + tell me—unless you wish to get a knife put into me by that dark + lookin' ould father of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about your ould box, but I wish I did.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a lie, you sthrap; you know right well where it is.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied her father, “she does not, when she says she doesn't. Did + you ever know her to tell a lie?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—did I—fifty.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet rushed at her again, and again did Sarah interpose. + </p> + <p> + “You vile ould tarmagint,” he exclaimed, “you're statin' what you feel to + be false when you say so; right well you know that neither you nor I, nor + any one else, ever heard a lie from her lips, an' yet you have the brass + to say to the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Sarah, “there's but one coorse for you; as for me, my + mind's made up—in this house I don't stay if she does.” + </p> + <p> + “If you'd think of what I spoke to you about,” he replied, “all would soon + be right wid us; but then you're so unraisonable, an' full of foolish + notions, that it's hard for me to know what to do, especially as I wish to + do all for the best.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” rejoined Sarah, “I'll spake to you again, about it; at this time + I'm disturbed and unaisy in my mind; I'm unhappy—unhappy—an' I + hardly knows on what hand to turn. I'm afeared I was born for a hard fate, + an' that the day of my doom isn't far from me. All, father, is dark before + me—my heart is, indeed, low an' full of sorrow; an' sometimes I + could a'most tear any one that 'ud contradict me. Any way I'm unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered the last words, her father, considerably surprised at the + melancholy tenor of her language, looked at her, and perceived that, + whilst she spoke, her large black eyes were full of distress, and swam in + tears. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool, Sarah,” said he, “it's not a thrifle should make any one + cry in sich a world as this. If Charley Hanlon and you has quarrelled, it + was only the case with thousands before you. If he won't marry you, maybe + as good or better will; for sure, as the ould proverb says, there's as + good fish in the say as ever was catched. In the mane time think what I + said to you, an' all will be right.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah looked not at him; but whilst he spoke, she hastily dried her tears, + and ere half a minute had passed, her face had assumed a firm and somewhat + of an indignant expression. Little, however, did her father then dream of + the surprising change which one short day had brought about in her + existence, nor of the strong passions which one unhappy interview had + awakened in her generous but unregulated heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — Love Wins the Race from Profligacy. + </h2> + <p> + Donnel Dhu M'Gowan's reputation as a Prophecy-man arose, in the first + instance, as much on account of his mysterious pretensions to a knowledge + of the quack prophecies of his day—Pastorini, Kolumbkille, &c, + and such stuff—as from any pretensions he claimed to foretell the + future. In the course of time, however, by assuming to be a seventh son, + he availed himself of the credulity and ignorance of the people, and soon + added a pretended insight into futurity to his powers of interpreting + Pastorini, and all the catchpenny trash of the kind which then circulated + among the people. This imposture, in course of time, produced its effect, + Many, it is true, laughed at his impudent assumptions, but on the other + hand, hundreds were strongly impressed with a belief in the mysterious and + rhapsodical predictions which he was in the habit of uttering. Among the + latter class we may reckon simple-hearted Jerry Sullivan and family, all + of whom, Mave herself included, placed the most religious confidence in + the oracles he gave forth. It was then with considerable agitation and a + palpitating heart, that on the day following that of Donnel's visit to her + father's she approached the Grey Stone, where, in the words of the + prophet, she should meet “the young man who was to bring her love, wealth, + and happiness, and all that a woman can wish to have with a man.” The + agitation she felt, however, was the result of a depression that almost + amounted to despair. Her faithful heart was fixed but upon one alone, and + she knew that her meeting with any other could not, so far as she was + concerned, realize the golden visions of Donnel Dhu. The words, however, + could not be misunderstood; the first person she met, on the right hand + side of the way, after passing the Grey Stone, was to be the individual; + and when we consider her implicit belief in Donnel's prophecy, contrasted + with her own impressions and the state of mind in which she approached the + place, we may form a tolerably accurate notion of what she must have + experienced. On arriving within two hundred yards or so of the spot + mentioned, she observed in the distance, about a half mile before her, a + gentleman, on horseback, approaching her at rapid speed. Her heart, on + perceiving him, literally sank within her, and she felt so weak as to be + scarcely able to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what,” she at length asked herself, “would I not now give but for one + glance of young Condy Dalton! But it is not to be. The unfortunate murdher + of my uncle has prevented that for ever; although I can't get myself to + believe that any of the Daltons ever did it; but maybe that's because I + wish they didn't. The general opinion is, that his father is the man that + did it. May the Lord forgive them, whoever they are, that took his life—for + it was a black act to me at any rate!” + </p> + <p> + Across the road, before her, ran one of those little deep valleys, or + large ravines, and into this had the horseman disappeared as she closed + the soliloquy. He had not, however, at all slackened his pace, but, on the + contrary, evidently increased it, as she could hear by the noise of his + horse's feet. At this moment she reached the brow of the ravine, and our + readers may form some conception of what she felt when, on looking down it + she saw her lover, young Dalton, toiling up towards her with feeble and + failing steps, while pressing after him from the bottom, came young + Henderson, urging his horse with whip and spur. Her heart, which had that + moment bounded with delight, now utterly failed her, on perceiving the + little chance which the poor young man had of being the first to meet her, + and thus fulfill the prophecy. Henderson was gaining upon him at a rapid + rate, and must in a few minutes have passed him, had not woman's wit and + presence of mind come to her assistance. “If he cannot run up the hill,” + she said to herself, “I can run to him down it”—and as the thought + occurred to her, she started towards him at her greatest speed, which + indeed was considerable, as her form was of that light and elastic + description which betokens great powers of activity and exertion. The + struggle indeed was close; Henderson now plied whip and spur with + redoubled energy, and the animal was approaching at full speed. Mave, on + the other hand, urged by a thousand motives, forgot everything but the + necessity of exertion. Dalton was incapable of running a step, and + appeared not to know the cause of the contest between the parties. At + length Mave, by her singular activity and speed reached her lover, into + whose arms she actually ran, just as Henderson had come within about half + a dozen yards of the spot where she met him. This effort, on the part of + Mave, was in perfect accordance with the simple earnestness of her + character; her youthful figure, her innocence of manner, the glow of + beauty, and the crowd of blushing graces which the act developed, together + with the joyous exultation of her triumph on reaching her lover's arms, + and thus securing to herself and him completion of so delightful a + prediction—all, when taken in at one view, rendered her being so + irresistibly fascinating, that her lover could scarcely look upon the + incident as a real one, but for a moment almost persuaded himself that his + beloved Mave had undergone some delightful and glorious transformation—such + as he had seen her assume in the dreams of his late illness. + </p> + <p> + Henderson, finding himself disappointed, now pulled up his horse and + addressed her: + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, Miss Sullivan—I believe,” he added, “I have the + pleasure of addressing Jeremy Sullivan's daughter—so far famed for + her beauty—I say, upon my word, Miss Sullivan, your speed outstrips + the wind—those light and beautiful feet of yours scarcely touch the + ground—I am certain you must dance delightfully.” + </p> + <p> + Mave again blushed, and immediately extricated herself from her lover's + arms, but before she did, she felt his frame trembling with indignation at + the liberty Henderson had taken in addressing her at all. + </p> + <p> + “Dalton,” the latter proceeded, unconscious of the passion he was + exciting, “I cannot but envy you at all events; I would myself delight to + be a winning post under such circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/pageBP853.jpg" + alt="Page 853-- his Eye, Like That of His Father, When Enraged " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Dalton looked at him, and his eye, like that of his father, when enraged, + glared with a deadly light. + </p> + <p> + “Pass on, sir,” he replied; “Mave Sullivan is no girl for the like of you + to address. She wishes to have no conversation with you, and she will + not.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't take your word for that, my good friend,” replied Henderson, + smiling; “she can speak for herself; and will, too, I trust.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Condy,” whispered Mave, “don't put yourself in a passion; you are + too weak to bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Sullivan,” proceeded young Dick, “is a pretty girl, and as such I + claim a portion of her attention, and—should she so far favor me—even + of her conversation; and that with every respect for your very superior + judgment, my good Mr. Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your object, now, in wishin' to spake to her?” asked the latter, + looking him sternly in the face. + </p> + <p> + “I don't exactly see that I'm bound to answer your catechism,” said Dick; + “it is to Miss Sullivan I would address myself. I speak to you, Miss + Sullivan; and, allow me to say, that I feel a very warm interest in your + welfare, and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to promote it by + any means in my power.” + </p> + <p> + Mave was about to reply, but Dalton anticipated her. + </p> + <p> + “The only favor you can bestow upon Miss Sullivan, as you are plaised to + call her, is to pass her by,” said Dalton; “she wishes to have no intimacy + nor conversation of any kind with such a noted profligate. She knows your + carrechter, Mr. Henderson; or if she doesn't, I do—an' that it's as + much as a daicent girl's good name is worth to be seen spakin' to you. + Now, I tell you again to pass on. Don't force either yourself or your + conversation upon her, if you're wise. I'm here to protect her—an' I + won't see her insulted for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that as a threat, my good fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “If you think it a threat, don't deserve it, an' you won't get it. If + right was to take place, our family would have a heavy account to settle + with you and yours; and it wouldn't be wise in you to add this to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! I see—oh, I understand you, I think—more threatening—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “As I said before,” replied Dalton, “that's as you may deserve it. Your + cruelty, and injustice, and oppression to our family, we might overlook; + but I tell you, that if you become the means of bringin' a stain—the + slightest that ever was breathed—upon the fair name of this girl, it + would be a thousand times betther that you never were born.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! indeed, Master Dalton! but in the mean time, what does Miss Sullivan + herself say? We are anxious to hear your own sentiments on this matter, + Miss Sullivan.” + </p> + <p> + “I would feel obliged to you to pass on, sir,” she replied; “Condy Dalton + is ill, and badly able to bear sich a conversation as this.” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Dalton, fiercely, laying his hand upon Mave's shoulder, “if + you cross my path here—or lave but a shadow of a stain, as I said, + upon her name, woe betide you!” + </p> + <p> + “Your wishes are commands to me, Miss Sullivan,” replied Henderson, + without noticing Dalton's denunciation in the slightest degree; “and, I + trust that when we meet again, you won't be guarded by such a terrible + bow-wow of a dragon as has now charge of you. Good bye! and accept my best + wishes until then.” + </p> + <p> + He immediately set spurs once more to his horse, and in a few minutes had + turned at the cross roads, and taken that which led to his father's house. + </p> + <p> + “It was well for him,” said Dalton, immediately after he had left them, + “that I hadn't a loaded pistol in my hand—but no, dear Mave,” he + added, checking himself, “the hasty temper and the hasty blow is the fault + of our family, an' so far as I am consarned, I'll do everything to + overcome it.” + </p> + <p> + Mave now examined him somewhat more earnestly than she had done; and + although grieved at his thin and wasted appearance, yet she could not help + being forcibly struck by the singular clearness and manly beauty of his + features. And yet this beauty filled her heart with anything but + satisfaction; for on contemplating it, she saw that it was over-shadowed + by an expression of such settled sorrow and dejection, as it was + impossible to look upon without the deepest compassion and sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “We had betther rest a little, dear Mave,” he said; “you must be fatigued, + and so am I. Turn back a little, will you, an' let us sit upon the Grey + Stone; it's the only thing in the shape of a seat that is now near us. + Have you any objection?” + </p> + <p> + “None in the world,” she replied; “I'll be time enough at my uncle's, + especially as I don't intend to come home to-night.” + </p> + <p> + They accordingly sauntered back, and took their seat upon a ledge of the + stone in question, that almost concealed them from observation; after + which the dialogue proceeded as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Condy,” observed Mave, “I was glad to hear that you recovered from the + fever; but I'm sorry to see you look so ill: there is a great deal of care + in your face.” + </p> + <p> + “There is, dear Mave; there is,” he replied, with a melancholy smile, “an' + a great deal of care in my heart. You look thin yourself, and careworn + too, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not without our own struggles at home,” she replied, “as, indeed, + who is now? But we had more than ourselves to fret for.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” he asked; but on putting the question, he saw a look of such tender + reproach in her eye as touched him. + </p> + <p> + “Kind heart!” he exclaimed; “kindest and best of hearts, why should I ax + such a question? Surely I ought to know you. I am glad I met you, Mave, + for I have many things to say to you, an' it's hard to say when I may have + an opportunity again.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that is true,” said she; “but I did not expect to meet you here.” + </p> + <p> + “Mave,” he proceeded, in a voice filled with melancholy and sadness, “you + acknowledged that you loved me.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, and that look moved him to the heart. + </p> + <p> + “I know you do love me,” he proceeded, “and now, dear Mave, the thought of + that fills my heart with sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + She started slightly, and looked at him again with a good deal of + surprise; but on seeing his eyes filled with tears, she also caught the + contagion, and asked with deep emotion: + </p> + <p> + “Why, dear Condy? Why does my love for you make your heart sorrowful?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have no hope,” said he—“no hope that ever you can be + mine.” + </p> + <p> + Mave remained silent; for she knew the insurmountable obstacles that + prevented their union; but she wept afresh. + </p> + <p> + “When I saw your father last, behind your garden, the day I struck Donnel + Dhu,” Dalton proceeded, “I tould him what I then believed to be true, that + my father never had a hand in your uncle's death. Mave, dear, I cannot + tell a lie; nor I will not. I couldn't say as much to him now; I'm afeard + that his death is on my father's sowl.” + </p> + <p> + Mave started and got pale at the words. “Great God!” she exclaimed, “don't + say so, Con dear. Oh, no, no—is it your father that was always so + good, an' so generous to every one that stood in need of it at his hands, + an' who was also so charitable to the poor?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said he, “he was charitable to the poor; but of late I've heard him + say things that nobody but a man that has some great crime to answer for + could or would say. I believe too that what the public says is right: that + it's the hand of God Himself that's upon him an' us for that murdher.” + </p> + <p> + “But maybe,” said Mave, who still continued pale and trembling; “maybe it + was accidentally afther all; a chance blow, maybe; but whatever it was, + dear Con, let us spake no more about it. I am not able to listen to it; it + would sicken me soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, dear, we'll drop it; an' I hope I'm wrong; for I can't think, + afther all, that a man with such a kind and tendher heart as my father—a + pious man, too; could—” he paused a moment, and then added; “oh! no; + I'm surely wrong; he never did the act. However, as we said, I'll drop it; + for indeed, dear Mave, I have enough that's sorrowful and heartbreakin' to + spake about, over and above that unfortunate subject.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said Mave, “that there's nothing worse than your own illness; + an' you know, thanks be to the Almighty, you're recoverin' fast from + that.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor lovin' sister Nancy,” said he, “was laid down yesterday morning + with this terrible faver; she was our chief dependence; we could stand it + out no longer; I could, an' can do nothing; an' my mother this mornin'”—His + tears fell so fast, and his affliction was so deep, that he was not able, + for a time to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what about her?” asked Mave, participating in his grief; “oh! what + about her that every one loves?” + </p> + <p> + “She was obliged to go out this mornin',” he proceeded, “to beg openly in + the face of day among the neighbors! Now, Mave Sullivan, farewell!” said + he rising, while his face was crimsoned over with shame; “farewell, Mave + Sullivan; all, from this minute, is over between you an' me. The son of a + beggar must never become your husband; will never call you his wife; even + if there was no other raison against it.” + </p> + <p> + The melancholy but lovely girl rose with him; she trembled; she blushed—and + again got pale; then blushed once more; at length she spoke: + </p> + <p> + “An' is that, dear Con, all that you yet know of Mave Sullivan's heart, or + the love for you that's in it? Your mother! Oh! an' is it come to that + with her? But—but—do you think that even that, or anything + that wouldn't be a crime in yourself; or, do you think; oh! I know not + what to say; I see now, dear Con, the raison for the sorrow that's in your + face; the heart-break an' the care that's there; I see, indeed, how low in + spirits an' how hopeless you are; an' I see that although your eye is + clear still it's heavy; heavy with hard affliction; but then, what is + love, Con dear, if it's to fly away when these things come on us? Is it + now, then, that you'd expect me to desert you?—to keep cool with + you, or to lave you when you have no other heart to go to for any comfort + but mine? Oh, no! Con dear. You own Mave Sullivan is none of these. God + knows it's little comfort,” she proceeded, weeping bitterly; “it's little + comfort's in my poor heart for any one; but there's one thing in it, Con, + dear; that, poor as I stand here this minute; an' where, oh! where is + there or could' there be a poorer girl than I am; still there's one thing + in it that I wouldn't exchange for this world's wealth; an' that, that, + dear Con, is my love for you! That's the love, dear Con, that neither this + world nor its cares, nor its shame, nor its poverty, nor its sorrow, can + ever overcome or banish; that's the love that would live with you in + wealth; that would keep by your side through good and through evil; that + would share your sickness; that would rejoice with you; that would grieve + with you; beg with you, starve with you, an', to go where you might, die + by your side. I cannot bid you to throw care and sorrow away; but if it's + consolation to you to know an' to feel how your own Mave Sullivan loves + you, then you have that consolation. Dear Con, I am ready to marry you, + an' share your distress tomorrow; ay, this day, or this minute, if it + could be done.” + </p> + <p> + There was a gentle, calm, but firm enthusiasm about her manner, which + carried immediate conviction with it, and as her tears fell in silence, + she bestowed a look upon her lover which fully and tenderly confirmed all + that her tongue had uttered. + </p> + <p> + Both had been standing; but her lover, taking her hand, sat down, as she + also did; he then turned around and pressed her to his heart; and their + tears in this melancholy embrace of love and sorrow both literally mingled + together. + </p> + <p> + “I would be ungrateful to God, my beloved Mave,” he replied, “and unworthy + of you—and, indeed, at best I'm not worthy of you—if I didn't + take hope an' courage, when I know that sich a girl Joves me; as it is, I + feel my heart aisier, an' my spirits lighter; although, at the same time, + dear Mave, I'm very wake, and far from being well.” + </p> + <p> + “That's bekaise this disturbance of your mind is too much for you yet—but + keep your spirits up; you don't know,” she continued, smiling sweetly + through her tears; “what a delightful prophecy was fulfilled for us this + day—ay, awhile ago, even when I met you.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “what was it?” She then detailed the particulars of + Donnel Dhu's prediction, which she dwelt upon with a very cheerful spirit, + after which she added: + </p> + <p> + “And now, Con dear, don't you think that's a sign we'll be yet happy?” + </p> + <p> + Dalton, who placed no reliance whatever on Donnel Dhu's impostures, still + felt reluctant to destroy the hope occasioned by such an agreeable + illusion. “Well,” he replied, “although I don't much believe in anything + that ould scoundrel says; I trust, for all that, that he has tould you + truth for wanst.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you happen to come here, Con?” she asked; “to be here at the + very minute, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, “I was desired to be the first to meet you after you + passed the Grey Stone—the very one we're sittin' on—if I loved + you, an' wished to sarve you.” + </p> + <p> + “But who on earth could tell you this?” she asked; “bekaise I thought no + livin' bein' knew of it but myself and Donnel Dhu.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Sarah, his daughter,” said Dalton; “but when I asked her why I + should come to do so, she wouldn't tell me—she said if I wished to + save you from evil, or at any rate from trouble. That's a strange girl—his + daughter,” he added; “she makes one do whatever she likes.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she very handsome?” said Mave, with an expression of admiration. “I + think she's without exception, the prettiest girl I ever seen; an' her + beautiful figure beats all; but somehow they say every one's afraid of + her, an' durstn't vex her.” + </p> + <p> + “She examined me well yesterday, at all events,” replied Con. “I thought + them broad, black, beautiful eyes of hers would look through me. Many a + wager has been laid as to which is the handsomest—you or she; an' I + know hundreds that 'ud give a great deal to see you both beside one + another.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, an' she has it then,” said Mave, “far an' away, in face, in + figure, an' in everything.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” he replied; “but at any rate not in everything—not + in the heart, dear Mave—not in the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “They say she's kind hearted, then,” replied Mave. + </p> + <p> + “They do,” said Con, “an' I don't know how it comes; but somehow every one + loves her, and every one fears her at the same time. She asked me + yestherday if I thought my father murdhered Sullivan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! for God's sake, don't talk about it,” said Mave, again getting pale; + “I can't bear to hear it spoken of.” + </p> + <p> + The Grey Stone—on a low ledge of which, nearly concealed from public + view, our lovers had been sitting—was, in point of size, a very + large rock of irregular size. After the last words, alluding to the + murder, had been uttered, an old man, very neatly but plainly dressed, and + bearing a pedlar's pack, came round from behind a projection of it, and + approached them. From his position, it was all but certain that he must + have overheard their whole conversation. Mave, on seeing him, blushed + deeply, and Dalton himself felt considerably embarrassed at the idea that + the stranger had been listening, and become acquainted with circumstances + that were never designed for any other ears but their own. + </p> + <p> + The old man, on making his appearance, surveyed our lovers from head to + foot with a curious and inquisitive eye—a circumstance which, taken + in connection with his eaves-dropping, was not at all relished by young + Dalton. + </p> + <p> + “I think you will know us again,” said he in no friendly voice. “How long + have you been sittin' behind the corner there?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I may know yez agin,” replied the pedlar, for he was one; “I was + jist long enough behind the corner to hear some of what you were spakin' + about last.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what was that?” said Dalton, putting him to the test. + </p> + <p> + “You were talkin' about the murdher of one Sullivan.” + </p> + <p> + “We were,” replied Dalton; “but I'll thank you to say nothing further + about it; it's disagreeable to both of us—distressin' to both of + us.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand that,” said the old pedlar; “how can it be so to + either of you, if you're not consarned in it one way or other?” + </p> + <p> + “We are, then,” said Dalton, with warmth; “the man that was killed was + this girl's uncle, and the man that was supposed to take his life is my + father. Maybe you understand me now?” + </p> + <p> + The blood left the cheeks of the old man, who staggered over to the ledge + whereon they sat, and placed himself beside them. + </p> + <p> + “God of Heaven!” said he, with astonishment, “can this be thrue?” + </p> + <p> + “Now that you know what you do know,” said Dalton, “we'll thank you to + drop the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will,” said he; “but first, for Heaven's sake, answer me a + question or two. What's your name, avick?” + </p> + <p> + “Condy Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Condy Dalton!—the Lord be about us! An' Sullivan—Sullivan + was the name of the man that was murdhered, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bartley Sullivan—God rest him!” + </p> + <p> + “An' whisper—tell me—God presarve us!—was there anything + done to your father, avick? What was done to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he was taken up on suspicion soon afther it happened; but—but—there + was nothing done: they had no proof against him, an' he was let go again.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your father alive still?” + </p> + <p> + “He is livin',” replied Dalton; “but come—pass on, ould man,” he + added, bitterly; “I'll give you no more information.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thank you, dear,” said the pedlar; “I ax your pardon for givin' you + pain—an' the colleen here—ay, you're a Sullivan, then—an' + a purty but sorrowful lookin' crature your are, God knows. Poor things! + God pity you both an' grant you a betther fate than what appears to be + before you! for I did hear a thrifle of your discoorse.” + </p> + <p> + There was something singularly benevolent and kind in the old pedlar's + voice, as he uttered the last words, and he had not gone many perches from + the stone, when Dalton's heart relented as he reflected on his harsh and + unfriendly demeanor towards him. + </p> + <p> + “That is a good ould man,” he observed, “and I am now sorry that I spoke + to him so roughly—there was kindness in his voice and in his eye as + he looked upon us.” + </p> + <p> + “There was,” replied Mave, “and I think him a good ould man too. I don't + think he would harm any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mave,” said Dalton, “I must now get home as soon as I can; I don't + feel so well as I was—there is a chill upon me, and I'm afeared I + won't have a comfortable night.” + </p> + <p> + “And I can do nothing for you!” added Mave, her eyes filling with tears. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't thank you for that lock of hair you sent me by Donnel Dhu,” he + added. “It is here upon my heart, and I needn't say that if anything had + happened me, or if anything should happen me, it an' that heart must go to + dust together.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too much cast down,” she replied, her tears flowing fast, “an' it + can't surely be otherwise; but, dear Con, let us hope for better days—an' + put our trust in God's goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, dear Mave,” he replied, “an may God bless and presarve you till + I see you again!” + </p> + <p> + “An' may He send down aid to you all,” she added, “an' give consolation to + your breakin' hearts!” + </p> + <p> + An embrace, long, tender, and mournful, accompanied their words, after + which they separated in sorrow and in tears, and with but little hope of + happiness on the path of life that lay before them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — Hanlon Secures the Tobacco-box.—Strange Scene + at Midnight. + </h2> + <p> + The hour so mysteriously appointed by Red Rody for the delivery of the + Tobacco-box to Hanlon, was fast approaching, and the night though by no + means so stormy as that which we have described on the occasion of that + person's first visit to the Grey Stone, was nevertheless dark and rainy, + with an occasional slight gust of wind, that uttered a dreary and + melancholy moan, as it swept over the hedges. Hanlon, whose fear of + supernatural appearances had not been diminished by what he had heard + there before as well as on his way home, now felt alarmed at every gust of + wind that went past him. He hurried on, however, and kept his nerves as + firmly set as his terrors would allow him, until he got upon the plain old + road which led directly to the appointed place. The remarkable interest + which he had felt at an earlier stage of the circumstances that compose + our narrative, was beginning to cool a little, when it was revived by his + recent conversation with Red Rody concerning the Black Prophet, and the + palpable contradictions in which he detected that person, with reference + to the period when the Prophet came to reside in the neighborhood. His + anxiety therefore, about the Tobacco-box began, as he approached the Grey + Stone, to balance his fears; so that by the time he arrived there, he + found himself cooler and firmer a good deal than when he first crossed the + dark fields from home. Hanlon, in fact, had learned a good deal of the + Prophet's real character, from several of those who had never been duped + by his impostures; and the fact of ascertaining that the very article so + essential to the completion of his purpose, had been found in the + Prophet's house or possession, gave a fresh and still more powerful + impulse to his determinations. The night, we have already observed, was + dark, and the heavy gloom which covered the sky was dismal and monotonous. + Several flashes of lightning, it is true, had shot out from the impervious + masses of black clouds, that lay against each other overhead. These, + however, only added terror to the depression which such a night and such a + sky were calculated to occasion. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” thought Hanlon, as he approached the stone, “that there will be + no disappointment, and that I won't have my journey on sich a dark and + dismal night for nothing. How this red ruffian can have any authority over + a girl like Sarah, is a puzzle that I can't make out.” + </p> + <p> + It was just as these thoughts occurred to him that he arrived at the + Stone, where he stood anxiously waiting and listening, and repeating his + pater noster, as well as he could, for several minutes, but without + hearing or seeing any one. + </p> + <p> + “I might have known,” thought he, “that the rascal could bring about + nothing of the kind, an' I am only a fool for heedin' him at all.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, however, he heard the noise of a light, quick footstep + approaching, and almost immediately afterwards Sarah joined him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am glad you are come,” said he, “for God knows when I thought of + our last stand here, I was anything but comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied Sarah, “what wor you afeard of? I hate a cowardly man, an' + you are cowardly.” + </p> + <p> + “Not where mere flesh and blood is consarned,” he replied; “I'm afeard of + neither man nor woman—but I wouldn't like to meet a ghost or spirit, + may the Lord presarve us!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, now? What harm could a ghost or spirit do you? Did you ever hear + that they laid hands on or killed any one?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but for all that, it's well known that several persons have died of + fright, in consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, of cowardliness; but it wasn't the ghost killed them. Sure the poor + ghost only comes to get relief for itself—to have masses said; or, + maybe, to do justice to some one that is wronged in this world. There's + Jimmy Beatty, an' he lay three weeks of fright from seein' a ghost, an' it + turned out when all was known, that the ghost was nothing more or less + than Tom Martin's white-faced cow—ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, let us change the subject,” said Hanlon; “you heard yourself + the last night we wor here, what I'll never forget.” + </p> + <p> + “We heard some noise like a groan, an' that was all; but who could tell + what it was, or who cares either?” + </p> + <p> + “I, for one, do; but, dear Sarah, have you the box?” + </p> + <p> + “Why does your voice tremble that way for? Is it fear? bekaise if I + thought it was, I wouldn't scruple much to walk home with' out another + word, an' bring the box with me.” + </p> + <p> + “You have it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I have, an' my father an' Nelly is both huntin' the house for + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what could your father want with it?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell?—an' only that I promised it to you, I wouldn't + fetch it at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had given it up for lost; how did you get it again?” + </p> + <p> + “That's nothing to you, an' don't trouble your head about it. There it is + now, an' I have kept my word; for while I live, I'll never break it if I + can. Dear me, how bright that flash was!” + </p> + <p> + As Hanlon was taking the box out of her hand, a fearful flash of sheeted + lightning opened out of a cloud almost immediately above them, and + discovered it so plainly, that the letters P. M. were distinctly legible + on the lid of it, and nearly at the same moment a deep groan was heard, as + if coming-out of the rock. + </p> + <p> + “Father of Heaven!” exclaimed Hanlon, “do you hear that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, “I did hear a groan; but here, do you go—oh, it + would be useless to ask you—so I must only do it myself; stand here + an' I'll go round the rock; at any rate let us be sure that it is a + ghost.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Sarah,” he exclaimed, seizing her arm; “for God's sake, don't—it + is a spirit—I know it—don't lave me. I understand it all, an' + maybe you will some day, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she exclaimed indignantly, and in an incredulous voice; “in God's + name, what has a spirit to do with an old rusty Tobaccy-box? It's surely a + curious box; there's my father would give one of his eyes to find it; an' + Nelly, that hid it the other day, found it gone when she went to get it + for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you toll me so?” said Hanlon, placing it as he spoke in his safest + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she replied; “an' only that I promised it to you, and would not + break my word, I'd give it to my father; but I don't see myself what use + it can be of to him or anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon, despite of his terrors, heard this intelligence with the deepest + interest—indeed, with an interest so deep, that he almost forgot + them altogether; and with a view of eliciting from her as much information + in connection with it as he could, he asked her to accompany him a part of + the way home. + </p> + <p> + “It's not quite the thing,” she replied, “for a girl like me to be walkin' + with a young fellow at this hour; but as I'm not afeard of you, and as I + know you are afeard of the ghost—if there is a ghost—I will go + part of the way with you, although it does not say much for your courage + to ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sarah; you are a perfect treasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever I was, or whatever I am, Charley, I can never be anything more + to you than a mere acquaintance—I don't think ever we were much more—but + what I want to tell you is, that if ever you have any serious notion of + me, you must put it out of your head.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “Why so,” she replied, hastily; “why, bekaise I don't wish it—isn't + that enough for you, if you have spirit?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I'd like to know why you changed your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said she; “well, afther all, that's only natural—it is but + raisonable; an' I'll tell you; in the first place, there's a want of + manliness about you that I don't like—I think you've but little + heart or feelin'. You toy with the girls—with this one and that one—an' + you don't appear to love any one of them—in short, you're not + affectionate, I'm afeard. Now, here am I, an' I can scarcely say, that + ever you courted me like a man that had feelin'. I think you're + revengeful, too; for I have seen you look black an' angry at a woman, + before now. You never loved me, I know—I say I know you did not. + There, then, is some of my raisons—but I'll tell you one more, + that's worth them all. I love another now—ay,” she added, with a + convulsive sigh, “I love another; and, I know, Charley, that he can't love + me—there's more lightnin'—what a flash! Oh, I didn't care this + minute if it went through my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk so, Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what's before me—disappointment—disappointment in + everything—the people say I'm wild and very wicked in my temper—an' + I am, too; but how could I be otherwise? for what did I ever see or hear + undher our own miserable roof, but evil talk and evil deeds? A word of + kindness I never got from my father or from Nelly; nothing but the bad + word an' the hard blow—until now that she is afeard of me; but + little she knew, that many a time when I was fiercest, an' threatened to + put a knife into her, there was a quiver of affection in my heart; a + yearnin', I may say, afther kindness, that had me often near throwin' my + arms about her neck, and askin' her why she mightn't as well be kind as + cruel to me; but I couldn't, bekaise I knew that if I did, she'd only + tramp on me, an' despise me, an' tyrannize over me more and more.” + </p> + <p> + She uttered these sentiments under the influence of deep feeling, + checkered with an occasional burst of wild distraction, that seemed to + originate from much bitterness of heart. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a fair question,” replied Hanlon, whose character she had + altogether misunderstood, having, in point of fact, never had an + opportunity of viewing it in it's natural light; “is it a fair question to + ask you who is it that you're in love wid?” + </p> + <p> + “It's not a fair question,” she replied; “I know he loves another, an' for + that raison I'll never breathe it to a mortal.” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise,” he added, “if I knew, maybe I might be able to put in a good + word for you, now and then, accordin' as I got an opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “For me!” she replied indignantly; “what! to beg him get fond o' me! Oh, + its wondherful the maneness that's in a'most every one you meet. No,” she + proceeded, vehemently; “if he was a king on his throne, sooner than stoop + to that, or if he didn't, or couldn't love me on my own account, I'd let + the last drop o' my heart's blood out first. Oh, no!—no, no, no—ha! + He loves another,” she added, hastily; “he loves another!” + </p> + <p> + “An' do you know her?” asked Hanlon. + </p> + <p> + “Do I know her!” she replied; “do I know her! it's I that do; ay, an' I + have her in my power, too; an' if I set about it, can prevent a ring from + ever goin' on them. Ha! ha! Oh, ay; that divil, Sarah M'Gowan, what a fine + character I have got! Well, well, good night, Charley! Maybe it's a folly + to have the bad name for nothin'; at laist they say so. Ha! ha! + Good-night; I'll go home. Oh, I had like to forgot; Red Body tould me he + was spakin' to you about something that he says you can't but understhand + yourself; and he desired me to get you, if I could, to join him in it. I + said I would, if it was right an' honest; for I have great doubts of it + bein' either the one or the other, if it comes from him. He said that it + was both; but that it 'ud be a great piece of roguery to have it undone. + Now, if it is what he says it is, help him in it, if you can; but if it + isn't, have no hand in it. That's all I tould him I would say, an' that's + all I do say. Keep out of his saicrets I advise you; an', above all + things, avoid everything mane an' dishonest; for, Charley, I have a kind + o' likin' for you that I can't explain, although I don't love you as a + sweetheart. Good-night again!” + </p> + <p> + She left him abruptly, and at a rapid pace proceeded back to the Grey + Stone, around which she walked, with a view of examining whether or not + there might be any cause visible, earthly or otherwise, for the groans + which they had heard; but notwithstanding a close and diligent search, she + could neither see nor hear anything whatsoever to which they might + possibly be ascribed. + </p> + <p> + She reached home about one o'clock, and after having sat musing for a time + over the fire, which was raked for the night—that is, covered over + with greeshaugh, or living ashes—she was preparing to sleep in her + humble bed, behind a little partition wall about five feet high, at the + lower end of the cabin, when her father, who had been moaning, and + staring, and uttering abrupt exclamations in his sleep, at length rose up, + and began deliberately to dress himself, as if with an intention of going + out. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, “in the name of goodness, where are you goin' at this + time o' the night?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to the murdhered man's grave,” he replied, “I'm goin' to toll + them all how he was murdhered, an' who it was that murdhered him.” + </p> + <p> + A girl with nerves less firm would have felt a most deadly terror at such + language, on perceiving, as Sarah at once did, that her father, whose eyes + were shut, was fast asleep at the time. In her, however, it only produced + such a high degree of excitement and interest, as might be expected from + one of her ardent and excitable temperament, imbued as it was with a good + deal of natural romance. + </p> + <p> + “In God's name,” she said to herself, “what can this mean? Of late he + hasn't had one hour's quiet rest at night; nothin' but startin' and + shoutin' out, an' talkin' about murdher an' murdherers! What can it mane? + for he's now walkin' in his sleep? Father,” said she, “you're asleep; go + back to bed, you had betther.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not asleep,” he replied; “I'm goin' down to the grave here below, + behind the rocks down in Glendhu, where the murdhered man is lyin' + buried.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what brings you there at this time o' the night?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha!” he replied, uttering an exclamation of caution in a low, guarded + voice—“what brings me?—whisht, hould your tongue, an' I'll + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + She really began to doubt her senses, notwithstanding the fact of his eyes + being shut. + </p> + <p> + “Whisht yourself,” she replied; “I don't want to hear anything about it; I + have no relish for sich saicrets. I'm ready enough with my own hand, + especially when there's a weapon in it—readier then ever I'll be + again; but for all that I don't wish to hear sich saicrets. Are you asleep + or awake?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm awake, of coorse,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “An' why are your eyes shut then? You're frightful, father, to look at; no + corpse ever had sich a face as you have; your heavy brows are knit in sich + a way; jist as if you were in agony; your cheeks are so white too, an' + your mouth is down at the corners, that a ghost—ay, the ghost of the + murdhered man himself—would be agreeable compared to you. Go to bed, + father, if you're awake.” + </p> + <p> + To all this he made no reply, but having dressed himself, he deliberately, + and with great caution, raised the latch, and proceeded out at that dismal + and lonely hour. Sarah, for a time, knew not how to act. She had often + heard of sleep-walking, and she feared now, that if she awakened him, he + might imagine that she had heard matters which he wished no ears whatever + to hear; for the truth was, that some vague suspicions of a dreadful + nature had lately entered her mind; suspicions, which his broken slumbers—his + starts, and frequent exclamations during sleep, had only tended to + confirm. + </p> + <p> + “I will watch him at all events,” said she to herself, “and see that he + comes to no ganger.” She accordingly shut the door after her, and followed + him pretty closely into the deep gloom of the silent and solitary glen. + With cautious, but steady and unerring steps, he proceeded in the + direction of the loneliest spot of it, which having reached, he went by a + narrow and untrodden circuit—a kind of broken, but natural pathway—to + the identical spot where the body, which Nelly had discovered, lay. + </p> + <p> + He then raised his hand, as if in caution, and whispered—“Whisht! + here is where the murdhered man's body lies.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not do it,” said Sarah, “I'll not do it; it would be mane and + ungenerous to ax him a question that might make him betray himself.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the moon which had been for some time risen, presented a + strange and alarming aspect. She seemed red as blood; and directly across + her centre there went a black bar—a bar so ominously and intensely + black, that it was impossible to look upon it without experiencing + something like what one might be supposed to feel in the presence of a + supernatural appearance; at the performance of some magic or unnatural + rite, where the sorcerer, by the wickedness of his spell, forced her, as + it were, thus to lend a dreadful and reluctant sanction to his + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + Her father, however, proceeded: “Ay—who murdhered him, my lord? Why, + my lord—hem—it was—Condy Dalton, an' I have another man + to prove it along wid myself—one Rody Duncan; now Rody answer + strong; swear home; mind yourself, Rody.” + </p> + <p> + These words were spoken aside, precisely as one would address them when + instructing any person to give a particular line of evidence. He then + stooped down, and placed his hand upon the grave said, as if he were + addressing the dead man: + </p> + <p> + “Ha! you sleep cool there, you guilty Villain! an' it wasn't my fault that + the unfaithful an' dishonest sthrap that you got that for, didn't get as + much herself. There you are, an' you'll tell no tales at all events! You + know, Rody,” he proceeded, “it was Dalton that murdhered him; mind that—but + you're a coward at heart; as for myself there's nothing troubles me but + that Tobaccy-Box; but you know nothing about that; may the divil confound + me, at any rate, for not destroyin' it! an' that ould sthrap, Nelly, + suspects something; for she's always ringin Providence into my ears; but + if I had that box destroyed, I'd disregard Providence; if there is a + Providence.” + </p> + <p> + The words had barely proceeded out of his lips, when a peal of thunder, + astonishingly loud, broke, as it were, over their very heads, having been + preceded by a flash of lightning, so bright, that the long, well-defined + grave was exposed, in all its lonely horrors, to Sarah's eye. + </p> + <p> + “That's odd, now,” said she, “that the thunder should come as he said them + very words; but thank God that it was Dalton that did the deed, for if it + was himself he'd not keep it back now, when the truth would be sure to + come out.” + </p> + <p> + “It was he, my lord, and gentlemen of the jury,” proceeded her father, + “an' my conscience, my lord, during all this long time—” + </p> + <p> + He here muttered something which she could not understand, and after + stooping down, and putting his hand on the grave a second time, he turned + about and retraced his steps home. It appeared, however, that late as the + hour was, there were other persons abroad as well as themselves, for Sarah + could distinctly hear the footsteps of several persons passing along the + adjoining road, past the Grey Stone, and she also thought that among the + rest might be distinguished the voice of Red Rody Duncan. The Prophet + quietly opened the door, entered as usual, and went to bed; Sarah having + also retired to her own little sleeping place, lay for some time, musing + deeply over the incidents of the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — Tumults—Confessions of Murder. + </h2> + <p> + The next morning opened with all the dark sultry rain and black cloudy + drapery, which had, as we have already stated, characterized the whole + season. Indeed, during the year we are describing, it was known that all + those visible signs which prognosticate any particular description of + weather, had altogether lost their significance. If a fine day came, for + instance, which indeed was a rare case, or a clear and beautiful evening, + it was but natural that after such a dark and dreary course of weather, + the heart should become glad and full of hope, that a permanent change for + the better was about to take place; but alas, all cheerful hope and + expectation were in vain. The morrow's sun rose as before, dim and gloomy, + to wade along his dismal and wintry path, without one glimpse of + enlivening light from his rising to his setting. + </p> + <p> + We have already mentioned slightly, those outrages, to which the disease + and misery that scourged the country in so many shapes had driven the + unfortunate and perishing multitudes. Indeed, if there be any violation of + the law that can or ought to be looked upon with the most lenient + consideration and forbearance, by the executive authorities, it is that + which takes place under the irresistible pressure of famine. And singular + as it may appear, it is no less true, that this is a subject concerning + which much ignorance prevails, not only throughout other parts of the + empire, but even at home here in Ireland, with ourselves. Much for + instance is said, and has been said, concerning what are termed “Years of + Famine,” but it is not generally known that since the introduction of the + potato in this country, no year has ever past, which in some remote + locality or other, has not been such to the unfortunate inhabitants. The + climate of Ireland is so unsettled, its soil so various in quality and the + potato so liable to injury from excess of either drought or moisture, that + we have no hesitation in stating the startling fact of this annual famine + as one we can vouch for, upon our personal knowledge, and against the + truth of which we challenge contradiction. Neither does an autumn pass + without a complaint peculiar to those who feed solely upon the new and + unripe potato, and which, ever since the year '32 is known by the people + as the potato cholera. With these circumstances the legislature ought to + be acquainted, inasmuch as they are calamities that will desolate and + afflict the country so long as the potato is permitted to be, as it + unfortunately is, the staple food of the people. That we are subject in + consequence of that fact, to periodical recurrences of dearth and disease, + is well known and admitted; but that every season brings its partial + scourge of both these evils to various remote and neglected districts in + Ireland, has not been, what it ought long since to have been, an + acknowledged and established fact in the sanatory statistics of the + country. Indeed, one would imagine, that after the many terrible + visitations which we have had from destitution and pestilence, a + legislature sincerely anxious for the health and comfort of the people, + would have devoted itself, in some reasonable measure, to the human + consideration of such proper sumptuary and sanatory enactments, as would + have provided not only against the recurrence of these evils, but for a + more enlightened system of public health and cleanliness, and a better and + more comfortable provision of food for the indigent and poor. As it is at + present, provision dealers of all kinds, meal-mongers, forestallers, + butchers, bakers, and hucksters, combine together, and sustain such a + general monopoly in food, as is at variance with the spirit of all law and + humanity, and constitutes a kind of artificial famine in the country; and + surely; these circumstances ought not to be permitted, so long as we have + a deliberative legislature, whose duty it is to watch and guard the health + and morals of the people. + </p> + <p> + At the present period of our narrative, and especially on the gloomy + morning following the Prophet's unconscious visit to the grave of the + murdered man, the popular outrages had risen to an alarming height. Up to + the present time occasional outbreaks, by small and detached groups of + individuals, had taken place at night or before dawn, and rather in a + timid or fugitive manner, than with the recklessness of men who assemble + in large crowds, and set both law and all consequences at open defiance. + Now, however, destitution and disease had wrought such woeful work among + the general population, that it was difficult to know where or how to + prescribe bounds to the impetuous resentment with which they expressed + themselves against those who held over large quantities of food in order + to procure high prices. At this moment the country, with its waste, + unreaped crops, tying in a state of plashy and fermenting ruin, and its + desolate and wintry aspect, was in frightful keeping with the appearance + of the people when thus congregated together. We can only say, that the + famine crowds of that awful year should have been seen in order to have + been understood and felt. The whole country was in a state of dull but + frantic tumult, and the wild crowds as they came and went in the + perpetration of their melancholy outrages, were worn down by such starling + evidences of general poverty and suffering, as were enough to fill the + heart with fear as well as pity, even to look upon. Their cadaverous and + emaciated aspects had something in them so wild and wolfish, and the fire + of famine blazed so savagely in their hollow eyes, that many of them + looked like creatures changed from their very humanity by some judicial + plague, that had been sent down from Heaven to punish and desolate the + land. And in truth there is no doubt whatsoever, that the intensity of + their sufferings, and the natural panic which was occasioned by the united + ravages of disease and famine, had weakened the powers of their + understanding, and impressed upon their bearing and features an expression + which seemed partly the wild excitement of temporary frenzy, and partly + the dull, hopeless apathy of fatuity—a state to which it is well + known that misery, sickness, and hunger, all together, had brought down + the strong intellect and reason of the wretched and famishing multitudes. + Nor was this state of feeling confined to those who were goaded by the + frightful sufferings that prevailed. On the contrary, thousands became + victims of a quick and powerful contagion which spread the insane spirit + of violence at a rapid rate, affecting many during the course of the day, + who in the early part of the morning had not partaken of its influence. To + no other principle than this can we attribute the wanton and irrational + outrages of many of the people. Every one acquainted with such awful + visitations must know that their terrific realities cause them, by wild + influences that run through the whole masses, to forget all the decencies + and restraints of ordinary life, until fear and shame, and becoming + respect for order, all of which constitute the moral safety of society—are + thrown aside or resolved into the great tyrannical instinct of + self-preservation, which, when thus stimulated, becomes what may be termed + the insanity of desolation. We know that the most savage animals as well + as the most timid will, when impelled by its ravenous clamors, alike + forget every other appetite but that which is necessary for the + sustainment of life. Urged by it alone, they will sometimes approach and + assail the habitations of man, and, in the fury of the moment, expose + themselves to his power, and dare his resentment; just as a famine mob + will do, when urged by the same instinct, in a year of scarcity. + </p> + <p> + There is no beast, however, in the deepest jungle of Africa itself, so + wild, savage and ferocious, as a human mob, when left to its own blind and + headlong impulses. On the morning in question, the whole country was + pouring forth its famished hordes to intercept meal-carts and provision + vehicles of all descriptions, on their way to market or to the next + sea-port for shipment; or to attack the granaries of provision dealers, + and all who, having food in large quantities, refused to give it gratis, + or at a nominal price to the poor. Carts and cars, therefore, mostly the + property of unoffending persons, were stopped on the highways, there + broken, and the food which they carried openly taken away, and, in case of + resistance, those who had charge of them were severely beaten. Mills were + also attacked and pillaged, and in many instances large quantities of + flour and grain not only carried off, but wantonly and wickedly strewn + about the streets and destroyed. + </p> + <p> + In all these acts of violence there was very little shouting; the fact + being that the wretched people were not able to shout; unless on rare + occasions; and sooth to say, their vociferations were then but a faint and + feeble echo of the noisy tumults which in general characterize the + proceedings of excited and angry crowds. Truly, those pitiable gatherings + had their own peculiarities of misery. During the progress of the pillage, + individuals of every age, sex, and condition—so far as condition can + be applied to the lower classes—might be seen behind ditches, in + remote nooks—in porches of houses, and many on the open highways and + streets, eating, or rather gobbling up raw flour, or oat-meal; others, + more fortunate, were tearing and devouring bread, with a fury, to which + only the unnatural appetites of so many famished maniacs could be + compared. As might be expected, most of these inconsiderate acts of + license were punished by the consequences which followed them. Sickness of + various descriptions, giddiness, retchings, fainting fits, convulsions, + and in some cases, death itself, were induced by this wolfish and + frightful gluttony on the part of the starving people. Others, however, + who possessed more sense, and maintained a greater restraint over their + individual sufferings, might be seen in all directions, hurrying home, + loaded with provisions of the most portable descriptions, under which they + tottered and panted, and sometimes fell utterly prostrate from recent + illness or the mere exhaustion of want. Aged people, grey-haired old men, + and old women bent with age, exhibited a wild and excited alacrity that + was grievous to witness, while hurrying homewards—if they had a + home, or if not, to the first friendly shelter they could get—a kind + of dim exulting joy feebly blazing in their heavy eyes, and a wild sense + of unexpected good fortune working in unnatural play upon the muscles of + their wrinkled and miserable faces. The ghastly impressions of famine, + however, were not confined to those who composed the crowds. Even the + children were little living skeletons, wan and yellow, with a spirit of + pain and suffering legible upon their fleshless but innocent features—while + the very dogs, as was well observed, were not able to bark, unless they + stood against a wall; for indeed, such of them as survived, were nothing + but ribs and skin. At all events, they assisted in making up the terrible + picture of general misery which the country at large presented. Both day + and night, but at night especially, their hungry howlings could be heard + over the country, or mingling with wailings which the people were in the + habit of pouring over those whom the terrible typhus was sweeping away + with such wide and indiscriminate fatality. + </p> + <p> + Our readers may now perceive, that the sufferings of these unhappy crowds, + before they had been driven to these acts of violence, were almost beyond + belief. At an early period of the season, when the potatoes could not be + dug, miserable women might be seen early in the morning, and in fact, + during all hours of the day, gathering weeds of various descriptions, in + order to sustain life; and happy were they who could procure a few + handfuls of young nettles, chicken-weed, sorrel, preshagh, buglass, or + seaweed, to bring home as food, either for themselves or their unfortunate + children. Others, again, were glad to creep or totter to stock-farms, at + great distances across the country, in hope of being able to procure a + portion of blood, which, on such melancholy occasions, is taken from the + heifers and bullocks that graze there, in order to prevent the miserable + poor from perishing by actual starvation and death. + </p> + <p> + Alas! little do our English neighbors know or dream of the horrors which + attend a year of severe famine in this unhappy country. The crowds which + kept perpetual and incessant siege to the houses of wealthy and even of + struggling small farmers, were such! as scarcely any pen could describe. + Neither can we render anything like adequate justice to the benevolence + and charity—nay, we ought to say, the generosity and magnanimity of + this and the middle classes in general, In no country on earth could such + noble instances of self-denial and sublime humanity be witnessed. It has + happened in thousands of instances that the last miserable morsel, the + last mouthful of nourishing liquid, the last potato, or the last + six-pence, has been divided with wretched and desolate beings who required + it more, and this, too, by persons who, when that was gone, knew not to + what quarter they could turn with a hope of replacing for themselves that + which they had just shared in a spirit of such genuine and exalted piety.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It is as well to state here that the season described + in this tale is the dreadful and melancholy one of + 1817; and we may add, that in order to avoid the charge + of having exaggerated the almost incredible sufferings + of the people in that year, we have studiously kept our + descriptions of them within the limits of truth. Dr. + Cokkigan, in his able and very sensible pamphlet on + “Fever and Famine as Cause and Effect in Ireland”—a + pamphlet, by the way, which has been the means of + conveying most important truths to statesmen, and which + ought to be looked on as a great public benefit—has + confirmed the accuracy of the gloomy pictures I was + forced to draw. Here follow an extract or two: + + “It is scarcely necessary to call to recollection the + summer of 1810, cold and wet—corn uncut in November, + or rotting in the sheaves on the ground—potatoes not + ripened (and when unripe there cannot be worse food), + containing more water than nutriment—straw at such an + extravagant price as to render the obtaining of it for + bedding almost impossible, and when procured, retaining + from its half-fermented state, so much moisture, that + the use was, perhaps, worse than the want of it. The + same agent that destroyed the harvest spoiled the turf. + Seldom had such a multiplication of evils come + together. In some of the former years, although food + and bedding were deficient, the portion saved was of + good quality, and fuel was not wanting: but in 1815 + every comfort that might have compensated for partial + want was absent. This description applies to the two + years of 1816 and 1817. In midsummer of 1817, the blaze + of fever was over the entire country. It had burst + forth in almost a thousand different points. Within the + short space of a month, in the summer of 1817, the + epidemic sprung forth in Tramore, Youghal, Kinsale, + Tralee, and Clonmel, in Carrick-on-Suir, Iloscrea, + Ballina, Castlebar, Belfast, Armagh, Omagh, + Londonderry, Monasterevan, Tullamore and Slane. This + simultaneous break-out shows that there must have been + some universal cause.” + + Again: + + “The poor were deprived of employment and were driven + from the doors where before they had always received + relief, lest they should introduce disease with them. + Thus, destitution and fever continued in a vicious + circle, each impelling the other, while want of + presence of mind aggravated a thousandfold the terrible + infliction. Of the miseries that attend a visitation of + epidemic fever, few can form a conception. The mere + relation of the scenes that occurred in the country, + even in one of its last visitations, makes one shudder + in reading them. As Barker and Cheyne observe in their + report, 'a volume might be filled with instances of the + distress occasioned by the visitation of fever in + 1817.'” + + “'On the road leading from Cork, within a mile of the + town (Kanturk), I visited a woman laboring under + typhus; on her left lay a child very ill, at the foot + of the bed another child just able to crawl about, and + on her right the corpse of a third child who had died + two days previously, which the unhappy mother could not + get removed.'—Letter from Dr. O'Leary, Kanturk. + + “'Ellen Pagan, a young woman, whose husband was + obliged, in order to seek employment, to leave her + almost destitute in a miserable cabin, with three + children, gave the shelter of her roof to a poor beggar + who had fever. She herself caught the disease, and from + the terror created in the neighborhood, was, with her + three children, deserted—except that some person left + a little water and milk at the window for the + children,—one about four, the other about three years + old, and the other an infant at her breast. In this way + she continued for a week, when a neighbor sent her a + loaf of bread, which was left in the window. Four days + after this he grew uneasy about her, and one night + having prepared some tea and bread, he set off to her + ralief. When he arrived, the following scene presented + itself:—In the window lay the loaf, where it had been + deposited four days previously; in one corner of the + cabin, on a little straw, without covering of any kind, + lay the wretched mother, actually dying, and her infant + dead by her side, for the want of that sustenance which + she had not to give; on the floor lay the children, to + all appearance dying also of cold and hunger. At first + they refused to take anything, and he had to pour a + little liquid down their throats—with the cautious + administration of food they gradually recovered. The + woman expired before the visitor quitted the house.'— + Letter from Dr. Mucarthney, Monivae. + + “'A man, his wife, and two children lay together in a + fever. The man died in the night; his wife, nearly + convalescent, was so terrified with his corpse in the + same bed with her, that she relapsed, and died in two + days after; the children recovered from fever, but the + eldest lost his reason by the fright. Many other scenes + have I witnessed, which would be too tedious to + relate.'—Barker & Oheyne's Report. + + “I know not of any visitation so much to be dreaded as + epidemic fever; it is worse than the plague, for it + lasts throughout all seasons. Cholera may seem more + frightful, but it is in reality less destructive. It + terminates rapidly in death, or in as rapid recovery. + Its visitation, too, is short, and it leaves those who + recover unimpaired in health and strength. Civil war, + were it not for its crimes, would be, as far as regards + the welfare of a country, a visitation less to be + dreaded than epidemic fever.” + +</pre> + <hr /> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “It is not possible, then, to form an exaggerated + picture of the sufferings of a million and a half of + people in these countries, in their convalescence from + fever, deprived of, not only the comforts, but even the + necessaries of life, with scanty food, and fuel, and + covering, only rising from fever to slowly fall victims + to those numerous chronic diseases that are sure to + seize upon enfeebled constitutions. Death would be to + many a more merciful dispensation than such a + recovery.”—Famine and Fever, as Clause and Effect in + Ireland, &a., &o. By D. J. Cohkigan, Esq., M.D., + M.K.C.S.B. Dublin: J. Fannin & Co., Grafton Street. +</pre> + <p> + It was to such a state of general tumult that the Prophet and his family + arose on the morning of the following day. As usual, he was grim and + sullen, but on this occasion his face had a pallid and sunken look in it, + which apparently added at least ten years to his age. There was little + spoken, and after breakfast he prepared to go out. Sarah, during the whole + morning, watched his looks, and paid a marked attention to every thing he + said. He appeared, however, to be utterly unconscious of the previous + night's adventure, a fact which his daughter easily perceived, and which + occasioned her to feel a kind of vague compassion for him, in consequence + of the advantage it might give Nelly over him; for of late she began to + participate in her father's fears and suspicions of that stubborn and + superstitious personage. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, as he was about to go out, “is it fair to ax where you + are going?” + </p> + <p> + “It's neither fair nor foul,” he replied; “but if it's any satisfaction to + you to know, I won't tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any objections then, that I should walk a piece of the way with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you have come to your senses, as you ought, about what I mentioned + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have something to say to you,” she replied, without noticing the + allusion he had made; “something that you ought to know.” + </p> + <p> + “An' why not mention it where we are?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise I don't wish her there to know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am,” replied Nelly; “I feel your kindness—an,' dear + me, what a sight o' wisdom I'll lose by bein' kep' out o' the saicret—saicret + indeed! A fig for yourself an' your saicret; maybe I have my saicret as + well as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied Sarah, “if you have, do you keep yours as I'll keep + mine, and then we'll be aiquil. Come, father, for I must go from home too. + Indeed I think this is the last day I'll be with either of you for some + time—maybe ever.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mane?” said the father. + </p> + <p> + “Hut!” said the mother, “what a goose you are! Charley Hanlon, to be sure; + I suppose she'll run off wid him. Oh, thin, God pity him or any other one + that's doomed to be blistered wid you!” + </p> + <p> + Sarah flashed like lightning, and her frame began to work with that + extraordinary energy which always accompanied the manifestation of her + resentment. + </p> + <p> + “You will,” said she, approaching the other—“you will, after your + escape the other day; you—no, ah! no—I won't now; I forgot + myself. Come, father,—come, come; my last quarrel with her is over.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” returned Nelly, as they went out, “there you go, an' a sweet pair + you are—father and daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, father,” resumed Sarah, after they had got out of hearing, “will you + tell me if you slep' well last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ax?” he replied; “to be sure I did.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you why I ax,” she answered; “do you know that you went last + night—in the middle of the night—to the murdhered man's grave, + in the glen there?” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to express the look of astonishment and dismay which he + turned up on her at these words. + </p> + <p> + “Sarah!” he said, sternly; but she interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “It's thruth,” said she; “an I went with—” + </p> + <p> + “What are you spakin' about? Me go out, an' not know it! Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “You went in your sleep, she rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Did I spake?” said he, with a black and; ghastly look. “What—what—tell + me—eh? What did I say?” + </p> + <p> + “You talked a good deal, an' said that it was Condy Dalton that murdhered + him, and that you had Red Rody to prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “That was what I said?—eh, Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what you said, an' I thought it was only right to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “It was right, Sarah; but at the same time, at the peril of your life, + never folly me there again. Of coorse, you know now that Sullivan is + buried there.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said she; “but that's no great comfort, although it is to know + that you didn't murdher him. At any rate, father, remember what I tould + you about Condy Dalton. Lave him to God; an' jist that you may feel what + you ought to feel on the subject, suppose you were in his situation—suppose + for a minute that it was yourself that murdhered him—then ask, would + you like to be dragged out from us and hanged, in your ould age, like a + dog—a disgrace to all belongin' to you. Father, I'll believe that + Condy Dalton murdhered him, when I hear it from his own lips, but not till + then. Now, Good-bye. You won't find me at home when you come back, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where are you goin'?” + </p> + <p> + “There's plenty for me to do,” she replied; “there's the sick an' the + dyin' on all hands about me, an' it's a shame for any one that has a heart + in their body, to see their fellow-creatures gaspin' for want of a dhrop + of cowld wather to wet their lips, or a hand to turn them where they lie. + Think of how many poor sthrangers is lyin' in ditches an' in barns, an' in + outhouses, without a livin' bein' a'most to look to them, or reach them + any single thing they want; no, even to bring the priest to them, that + they might die reconciled to the Almighty. Isn't it a shame, then, for me, + an' the likes o' me, that has health an' strength, an' nothin' to do, to + see my fellow-creatures dyin' on all hands about me, for want of the very + assistance that I can afford them. At any rate, I wouldn't live in the + house with that woman, an' you know that, an' that I oughtn't.” + </p> + <p> + “But aren't you afeard of catchin' this terrible faver, that's takin' away + so many, if you go among them'?” + </p> + <p> + “Afeard!” she replied; “no, father, I feel no fear either of that or + anything else. If I die, I lave a world that I never had much happiness + in, an' I know that I'll never be happy again in it. What then have I to + fear from death? Any change for me must now be for the betther; at all + events it can hardly be for the worse. No; my happiness is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “What in Heaven's name is the matther with you?” asked her father; “an' + what brings the big tears into your eyes that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” said she; and as she spoke, a melancholy smile—at once + sad and brilliant—irradiated her features. “It's not likely, father, + that ever you'll see me under your roof again. Forgive me all my follies + now, maybe it's the last time ever you'll have an opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, you foolish girl; it's enough to sicken one to hear you spake such + stuff!” + </p> + <p> + She stood and looked at him for a moment, and the light of her smile + gradually deepened, or rather faded away, until nothing remained but a + face of exquisite beauty, deeply shadowed by anxiety and distress. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet pursued his way to Dick o' the Grange's, whither, indeed, he + was bent; Sarah, having looked after him for a moment with a troubled + face, proceeded in the direction of old Dalton's, with the sufferings and + pitiable circumstances of whose family she was already but too well + acquainted. Her journey across the country presented her with little else + than records of death, suffering, and outrage. Along the roads the + funerals were so frequent, that, in general, they excited no particular + notice. They could, in fact scarcely be termed funerals, inasmuch as they + were now nothing more than squalid and meagre-looking knots of those who + were immediately related to the deceased, hurrying onward, with reckless + speed and disturbed looks to the churchyard, where their melancholy + burthen was hastily covered up with scarcely any exhibition of that simple + and affecting decorum, or of those sacred and natural sorrows, which in + other circumstances throw their tender but solemn light over the last + offices of death. As she went along, new and more startling objects of + distress attracted her notice. In dry and sheltered places she observed + little temporary sheds, which, in consequence of the dreadful panic which + always accompanies an epidemic in Ireland, had, to a timid imagination, + something fearful about them, especially when it is considered that death + and contagion were then at work in them in such terrible shapes. To Sarah, + however, they had no terrors; so far from that, a great portion of the day + was spent by her in relieving their wretched, and, in many cases, dying + inmates, as well as she could. She brought them water, lit fires for them, + fixed up their shed, and even begged aid for them from the neighbors + around, and, as far as she could, did everything to ease their pain, or + smooth their last moment by the consolation of her sympathy. If she met a + family on the highway, worn with either illness or fatigue—perhaps + an unhappy mother, surrounded by a helpless brood, bearing, or rather + tottering under a couple of sick children, who were unable to walk—she + herself, perhaps, also ill, as was often the case—she would + instantly take one of them out 'of the poor creature's arms, and carry it + in her own as far as she happened to go in that direction, utterly + careless of contagion, or all other consequences. + </p> + <p> + In this way was she engaged towards evening when at a turn of the road she + was met by a large crowd of rioters, headed by Red Rody, Tom Dalton, and + many others in the parish who were remarkable only for a tendency to + ruffianism and outrage; for we may remark here, that on occasions such as + we are describing, it is generally those who have suffered least, and have + but little or nothing to complain of, that lead the misguided and + thoughtless people into crime, and ultimately into punishment. + </p> + <p> + The change that had come over young Dalton was frightful; he was not half + his former size; his clothes were now in rags, his beard grown, his whole + aspect and appearance that of some miscreant, in whom it was difficult to + say whether the ruffian or the idiot predominated the most. He appeared + now in his glory—frantic and destructive; but amidst all this + drivelling impetuosity, it was not difficult to detect some desperate and + unshaken purpose in his heavy but violent and bloodshot eyes. + </p> + <p> + Far different from him was Red Rody, who headed his own section of them + with an easy but knowing swagger; now nodding his head with some wonderful + purpose which nobody could understand; or winking at some acquaintance + with an indefinite meaning, that set them a guessing at it in vain. It was + easy to see that he was a knave, but one of those knaves on whom no + earthly reliance could be placed, and who would betray to-morrow, for good + reasons, and without a moment's hesitation, those whom he had corrupted + to-day. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Tom,” said Rody, “we have scattered a few of the meal-mongin' + vagabonds; weren't you talkin' about that blessed voteen, ould Darby + Skinadre? The villain that allowed Peggy Murtagh an' her child to starve + to death! Aren't we to pay him a visit?” + </p> + <p> + Dalton coughed several times, to clear his throat; a settled hoarseness + having given a frightful hollowness to his voice. “Ay,” said he—“ha, + ha, ha—by the broken-heart she died of—well—well—eh, + Rody, what are we to do to him?” + </p> + <p> + Rody looked significantly at the crowd, and grinned, and touched his + forehead, and pointed at Dalton. + </p> + <p> + “That boy's up to everything,” said he; “he's the man to head us all—ha, + ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind laughin' at him, anyway,” observed one of his friends; “maybe + if you suffered what he did, poor fellow, an' his family too, that it's + not fun you'd be makin' of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” asked a new comer; “what's wrong wid him?” + </p> + <p> + “He's not at himself,” replied the other, “ever since he had the faver; + that, they say, an' the death of a very purty girl he was goin' to be + married to, has put him beside himself, the Lord save us!” + </p> + <p> + “Come on now,” shouted Tom, in his terrible voice; “here's the greatest of + all before us still. Who wants meal now? Come on, I say—ha, ha, ha! + Is there any of you hungry? Is there any of you goin' to die for want of + food? Now's your time—ho, ho! Now, Peggy, now. Amn't I doin' it? Ay, + am I, an' it's all for your sake, Peggy dear, for, I swore by the broken + heart you died of—ay, an' didn't I tell you that last night on your + grave where I slep'. No, he wouldn't—he wouldn't—but now—now—he'll + see the differ—ay, an' feel it too. Come on,” he shouted, + “who-ever's hungry, folly me! ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + This idiotic, but ferocious laugh, echoing such a dreadful purpose, was + appalling; but the people who knew what he had suffered, only felt it as a + more forcible incentive to outrage. Darby's residence was now quite at + hand, and in a few minutes it was surrounded by such a multitude, both of + men and women, as no other occasion could ever bring together. The people + were, in fact, almost lost in their own garments; some were without coats + or waistcoats to protect them from the elements, having been forced, poor + wretches, to part with them for food; others had nightcaps or + handkerchiefs upon their heads instead of hats; a certain proof that they + were only in a state of convalescence from fever—the women stood + with dishevelled hair—some of them half naked, and others leading + their children about, or bearing them in their arms; altogether they + presented such an appearance as was enough to wring the benevolent heart + with compassion and. sorrow for their sufferings. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at Darby's house, they found it closed, but not deserted. At + first, Tom Dalton knocked, and desired the door to be opened, but the + women who were present, whether with shame or with honor to the sex, we + are at a loss to say, felt so eager on the occasion, probably for the + purpose of avenging Peggy Murtagh, that they lost not a moment in + shivering in the windows, and attacking the house with stones and missiles + of every description. In a few minutes the movement became so general and + simultaneous that the premises were a perfect wreck, and nothing was to be + seen but meal and flour, and food of every description, either borne off + by the hungry crowd, or scattered most wickedly and wantonly through the + streets, while, in the very midst of the tumult, Tom Dalton was seen + dragging poor Darby out by the throat, and over to the centre of the + street. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “here I have you at last—ha, ha, ha!”—his + voice, by the way, as he spoke and laughed, had become fearfully deep and + hollow—“now, Peggy dear, didn't I swear it—by the broken heart + you died of, I said, an' I'll keep that sacred oath, darlin'.” While + speaking, the thin fleshless face of the miser was becoming black—his + eyes were getting blood-shot, and, in a very short time, strangulation + must have closed his wretched existence, when a young and tall female + threw herself by a bound upon Dalton, whom she caught by the throat, + precisely as he himself had caught Darby. It was Sarah, who saw that there + was but little time to lose in order to save the wretch's life. Her grip + was so effectual, that Dalton was obliged to relax his hold upon the other + for the purpose of defending himself. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this?” said he; “let me go, you had better, till I have his life—let + me go, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “It's one,” she replied, “that's not afeard but ashamed of you. You, a + young man, to go strangle a weak, helpless ould creature, that hasn't + strength or breath to defend himself no more then a child.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't he starve Peggy Murtagh?” replied Tom; “ha, ha, ha!—didn't + he starve her and her child?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied aloud, and with glowing cheeks; “it's false—it + wasn't he but yourself that starved her and her child. Who deserted her—who + brought her to shame, an' to sorrow, in her own heart an' in the eyes of + the world? Who left her to the bitter and vile tongues of the whole + counthry? Who refused to marry her, and kept her so that she couldn't + raise her face before her fellow cratures? Who sent her, without hope, or + any expectation of happiness in this life—this miserable life—to + the glens and lonely ditches about the neighborhood, where she did nothing + but shed blither tears of despair and shame at the heartless lot you + brought her to? An' when she was desarted by the wide world, an' hadn't a + friendly face to look to but God's, an' when one kind word from your lips + would give her hope, an' comfort, an' happiness, where were you? and where + was that kind word that would have saved her? Let the old man go, you + unmanly coward; it wasn't him that starved her—it was yourself that + starved her, and broke her heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Did yez hear that?” said Dalton; “ha, ha, ha—an' it's all thrue; + she has tould me nothing but the thruth—here, then, take the ould + vagabond away with you, and do what you like with him—” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'I am a bold and rambling boy, + My lodging's in the isle of Throy; + A rambling boy, although I be, + I'd lave them all an' folly thee.' +</pre> + <p> + Ha, ha, ha!—but come, boys, pull away; we'll finish the wreck of + this house, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Wreck away,” said Sarah, “I have nothin' to do with that; but I think + them women—man-women I ought to call them—might consider that + there's many a starvin' mouth that would be glad to have a little of what + they're throwin' about so shamefully. Do you come with me, Darby; I'll + save you as far as I can, an' as long as I'm able.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, achora,” replied Darby, “an' may God bless you, for you have + saved my life; but why should they attack me? Sure the world knows, an' + God knows, that my heart bleeds—” + </p> + <p> + “Whisht,” she exclaimed, “the world an' God both know it's a lie, if you + say your heart bleeds for any thing but the destruction that you see on + your place. If you had given Peggy Murtagh the meal, she might be a livin' + woman to-day; so no more falsehoods now, or I'll turn you back to Tom + Dalton's clutches.” + </p> + <p> + “No, then,” replied the trembling wretch, “I won't; but between you an' + me, then,—an' it needn't go farther—troth my heart bleeds for + the severity that's—” + </p> + <p> + “One word more,” she replied, “an' I lave you to what you'll get.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah's interference had a singular effect upon the crowd. The female + portion of it having reflected upon her words, soon felt and acknowledged + their truth, because they involved a principle of justice and affection to + their sex; while the men, without annexing any moral consideration to the + matter, felt themselves influenced by her exquisite figure and great + beauty. + </p> + <p> + “She's the Black Prophet's daughter,” exclaimed the women; “an' if the + devil was in her, she tould Tom Dalton nothing but the truth, at any + rate.” + </p> + <p> + “An' they say the devil is in her, the Lord save us, if ever he was in any + one—keep away from her—my sowl in Heaven! but she'd think no + more of tearin' your eyes out, or stickin' you wid a case-knife, than you + would of aitin' bread an' butther.” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed Father!” exclaimed another, “did you see the brightness of her + eyes while she was spakin?” + </p> + <p> + “No matther what she is,” said a young fellow beside them; “the devil a + purtier crature ever was made; be my soul, I only wish I had a thousand + pounds, I wouldn't be long without a wife at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd having wrecked Skinadre's dwelling, and carried off and + destroyed almost his whole stock of provisions, now proceeded in a + different direction, with the intention of paying a similar visit to some + similar character. Sarah and Darby—for he durst not venture, for the + present, towards his own house—now took their way to the cabin of + old Condy Dalton, where they arrived just in time to find the house + surrounded by the officers of justice, and some military. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” thought Sarah, on seeing them; “it is done, then, an' you lost but + little time about it. May God forgive you, father.” + </p> + <p> + They had scarcely entered, when one of the officers pulling out a paper, + looked at it and asked, “Isn't your name Condy or Cornelius Dalton?”— + </p> + <p> + “That is my name,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “I arrest you, then,” he continued, “for the murder of one Bartholomew + Sullivan.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the will of God,” replied the old man, while the tears flowed down + his cheeks—“it's God's will, an' I won't consale it any longer; take + me away—I'm guilty—I'm guilty.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTEE XXI. — Condy Datton goes to Prison. + </h2> + <p> + The scene that presented itself in Condy Dalton's miserable cabin was one, + indeed, which might well harrow any heart not utterly callous to human + sympathy. The unhappy old man had been sitting in the armchair we have + alluded to, his chin resting on his breast, and his mind apparently + absorbed in deep and painful reflection, when the officers of justice + entered. Many of our Landlord readers, and all, probably, of our Absentee + ones, will, in the simplicity of their ignorance regarding the actual + state of the lower classes, most likely take it for granted that the + picture we are about to draw exists nowhere but in our own imagination. + Would to God that it were so! Gladly and willingly would we take to + ourselves all the shame; acknowledge all the falsehood; pay the highest + penalty for all the moral guilt of our misrepresentations, provided only + any one acquainted with the country could prove to us that we are wrong, + change our nature, or, in other words, falsify the evidence of our senses + and obliterate our experience of the truths we are describing. + </p> + <p> + Old Dalton was sitting, as we have said, in the only memorial of his + former respectability now left him—the old arm-chair—when the + men bearing the warrant for his arrest presented themselves. The rain was + pouring down in that close, dark, and incessant fall, which gives scarcely + any hope of its ending, and throws the heart into that anxious and gloomy + state which every one can feel and perhaps no one describe. + </p> + <p> + The cabin in which the Daltons now lived was of the poorest description. + When ejected from their large holding by Dick o' the Grange, or in other + words, were auctioned out, they were unhappily at a loss where to find a + place in which they could take a temporary refuge. A kind neighbor who + happened to have the cabin in question lying unoccupied, or rather waste + upon his hands, made them an offer of it; not, as he said, in the + expectation that they could live in it for any length of time, but merely + until they could provide themselves with a more comfortable and suitable + abode. + </p> + <p> + “He wished,” he added, “it was better for their sakes; and sorry he was to + see such a family brought so low as to live in it at all!” + </p> + <p> + Alas! he knew not at the time how deeply the unfortunate family in + question were steeped in distress and poverty. They accepted this + miserable cabin; but in spite of every effort to improve their condition, + days, weeks, and months passed, and still found them unable to make a + change for the better. + </p> + <p> + When Darby and Sarah entered, they found young Con, who had now relapsed, + lying in one corner of the cabin, on a wretched shake-down bed of damp + straw; while on another of the same description lay his amiable and + affectionate sister Nancy. The cabin stood, as we have said, in a low, + moist situation, the floor of it being actually lower—which is a + common case—than the ground about it outside. It served, therefore, + as a receptacle for the damp and under-water which the incessant + down-pouring of rain during the whole season had occasioned. It was + therefore, dangerous to tread upon the floor, it was so soft and slippery. + The rain, which fell heavily, now came down through the roof in so many + places that they were forced to put under it such vessels as they could + spare, not even excepting the beds over each of which were placed old + clothes, doubled up under dishes, pots, and little bowls, in order, if + possible, to keep them dry. The house—if such it could be called—was + almost destitute of furniture, nothing but a few pots, dishes, wooden + noggins, some spoons, and some stools being their principal furniture, + with the exception of one standing short-posted bed, in a corner, near the + fire. There, then, in that low, damp, dark, pestilential kraal, without + chimney or window, sat the old man, who, notwithstanding its squalid + misery, could have looked upon it as a palace, had he been able to say to + his own heart—I am not a murderer. + </p> + <p> + There, we say, he sat alone, surrounded by pestilence and famine in their + most fearful shapes, listening to the moanings of his sick family, and the + ceaseless dropping of the rain, which fell into the vessels that were + placed to receive it. Mrs. Dalton was “out,” a term which was used in the + bitter misery of the period, to indicate that the person to whom it + applied had been driven to the last resource of mendicancy; and his other + daughter, Mary, had gone to a neighbor's house to beg a little fire. + </p> + <p> + As the old man uttered the words, no language could describe the misery + which was depicted on his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Take me,” he exclaimed; “ah, no; for then what will become of these?” + pointing to his son and daughter, who were sick. + </p> + <p> + The very minions of the law felt for him; and the chief of them said, in a + voice of kindness and compassion: + </p> + <p> + “It's a distressin' case; but if you'll be guided by me, you won't say + anything that may be brought against yourself. I was never engaged,” said + he, looking towards Darby and Sarah, to whom he partly addressed his + discourse, “in anything so painful as this. A man of his age, now afther + so many years! However—well—it can't be helped; we must do our + duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the rest of your family?” asked another of them; “is this young + woman a daughter of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” replied a third; “this is a daughter of the Black Prophet + himself; and, by japers, you hardened gipsey, it's a little too bad for + you to come to see how your blasted ould father's work gets on. It's his + evidence that's bringin' this dacent ould man from his family to a gaol, + this miserable evenin'. Be off out o' this, I desire you; I wondher you're + not ashamed to be present here, above all places in the world, you brazen + devil.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah's whole soul, however, in all its best and noblest sympathies, had + passed into and mingled with the scene of unparalleled misery which was + then before her. She went rapidly to the bed in which young Con was I + stretched; stooped down, and looking closely at him, perceived that he was + in a broken and painful slumber. She then passed to that in which his + sister lay, and saw that she was also asleep. After a glance at each, she + rubbed her hands with a kind of wild satisfaction, and going up to old + Dalton, exclaimed—for she had not heard a syllable of the language + used towards her by the officer of justice— + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said she, laying her hand upon his white hairs; “you are to be + pitied this night, poor ould man; but which of you, oh, which of you is to + be pitied most, you or them! an' your wife, too; an' your other daughter, + an' your other son, too; but he's past under-standin' it; oh, what will + they do? At your age, too—at your age! Oh, couldn't you die?—couldn't + you contrive, someway, to die?—couldn't you give one great struggle, + an' then break your heart at wanst, an' forever!” + </p> + <p> + These words were uttered rapidly, but in a low and cautious voice, for she + still feared to awaken those who slept. + </p> + <p> + The old man had also been absorbed in, his own misery; for he looked at + her inquiringly, and only replied, “Poor girl, what is it you're saying?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm biddin' you to die,” she replied, “if you can, you needn't be afeard + of God—he has punished you enough for the crime you have committed. + Try an' die, if you can—or if you can't—oh,” she exclaimed, “I + pray God that you—that he, there—” and she ran and bent over + young Con's bed for a moment; “that you—that you may never recover, + or live to see what you must see.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a fact, that between hunger and this sickness,” continued he who had + addressed her last, “they say an' I know that there's great number of + people silly; but I think this lady is downright mad; what do you mane, + you clip?” + </p> + <p> + Sarah stared at him impatiently, but without any anger. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't hear me,” she added, again putting her hand in a distracted + manner upon Dalton's gray hair; “no, no; but since it can't be so, there's + not a minute to be lost. Oh, take him away, now,” she proceeded, “take him + away while they're asleep, an' before his wife and daughter comes home—take + him away, now; and spare him—spare them—spare them all as much + sufferin' as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “There's not much madness in that, Jack,” returned one of them; “I think + it would be the best thing we could do. Are you ready to come now, + Dalton?” asked the man. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that,” said the old man, in a voice of indescribable woe and + sorrow; “who's that was talkin' of a broken heart? Oh, God,” he exclaimed, + looking up to Heaven, with a look of intense agony, “support me—support + them; and if it be your blessed will, pity us all; but above all things, + pity them, oh, Heavenly Father, and don't punish them for my sin!” + </p> + <p> + “It's false,” exclaimed Sarah, looking on Dalton, and reasoning apparently + with herself; “he never committed a could blooded murdher; an' the + Sullivans are—are—oh—take him away,” she said, still in + a low, rapid voice; “take him away! Come now,” she added, approaching + Dalton again; “come—while they're asleep, an' you'll save them an' + yourself much distress. I'm not afeard of your wife—for she can bear + it if any wife could—but I do your poor daughter, an' she so weak + an' feeble afther her illness; come.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton looked at her, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Who is this girl that seems to feel so much for me? but whoever she is, + may God bless her, for I feel that she's right. Take me away before they + waken! oh, she is right in every word she says, for I am not afeard of my + wife—her trust in God is too firm for anything to shake. I'm ready; + but I fear I'll scarcely be able to walk all the way—an' sich an + evenin' too—Young woman, will you break this business to these ones, + and to my wife, as you can?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will, I will,” she replied; “as well as I can; you did well to say + so,” she added, in a low voice to herself; “an' I'll stay here with your + sick family, an' I'll watch an' attend them. Whatever can be done by the + like o' me for them, I'll do. I'll—I'll not lave them—I'll + nurse them—I'll take care of them—I'll beg for them—oh, + what would I not do for them?” and while speaking she bent over young + Con's bed, and clasping her hands, and wringing them several times, she + repeated “oh what wouldn't I do for you!” + </p> + <p> + “May God bless you, best of girls, whoever you are! Come, now, I'm ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Sarah, running over to him, “that's right—I'll break the + bitter news to them as well as it can be done; come, now.” + </p> + <p> + The old man stood, in the midst of his desolation, with his hat in his + hand, and he looked towards the beds. + </p> + <p> + “Poor things!” he exclaimed; “what a change has come over you, for what + you wanst, an' that not long since, wor. Never, my darlin' childhre—oh, + never did one harsh or undutiful word come from your lips to your unhappy + father. In my ould age and misery I'm now lavin' you—may be forever—never, + maybe, to see you again in this world; an' oh, my God, if we are never to + meet in the other; if the innocent and the guilty is never to meet, then + this is my last look at you, for everlastin', for everlastin'! I can't do + it,” he added, weeping bitterly—“I must take my lave of them; I must + kiss their lips.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah, while he spoke, had uttered two or three convulsive sobs; but she + shed no tears; on the contrary, her eyes were singularly animated and + brilliant. She put her arms about him, and said, in a soothing and + solicitous tone: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, it's all thrue; but if you kiss them, you'll disturb and waken + them; and then, you know, when they see you taken away in this manner, an' + hears what it's for, it may be their death.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrue, achora; thrue: well, I will only look at them, then. Let me keep + my eyes on them for a little; may be they may go first, an' may be I may + go first; the last time, may be, for everlastin', that I'll see them!” + </p> + <p> + He went over, as he spoke, Sarah still having her hand upon his arm, as if + to intimate her anxiety to keep him under such control as might prevent + him from awakening them; and, standing first over the miserable bed where + Nancy slept, he looked down upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said he, while the tears showered down his cheeks, “there lies the + child that never vexed a parent's heart or ruffled one of our tempers. May + the blessin', if it is a blessin', or can be a blessin'—” + </p> + <p> + “It is, it is,” said Sarah, with a quick, short sob; “it is a blessin', + an' a holy blessin'; but bless him—bless him, too!” + </p> + <p> + “May my blessin' rest upon you, or rather may the blessin' of Almighty + God, rest upon you, daughter of my heart! And you too,” he proceeded, + turning to the other bed; “here is him that among them all I loved the + best; my youngest, an' called afther myself—may my blessin' an' the + blessin' of God and my Saviour rest upon you, my darlin' son; an' if I + never see either of you in this unhappy world, grant, oh, merciful Father, + that we may meet in the glory of Heaven, when that stain will be taken + away from me for that crime that I have repented for so long an' so + bittherly?” + </p> + <p> + Sarah, while he spoke, had let go his arm, and placing her two hands over + her eyes, her whole breast quivered; and the men, on looking at her, saw + the tears gushing out in torrents from between her finger. She turned + round, however, for a few moments, as if to compose herself; and, when she + again approached the old man, there was a smile—a smile, brilliant, + but agitated, in her eyes and upon her lips. + </p> + <p> + “There now,” she proceeded; “you have said all you can say; come, go with + them. Ah,” she exclaimed with a start of pain, “all we've done or tried to + do is lost, I doubt. Here's his wife and daughter. Come out now,” said she + addressing him, “say a word or two to them outside.” + </p> + <p> + Just as she spoke, Mrs. Dalton and the poor invalid, Mary, entered the + house: the one with some scanty supply of food, and the other bearing a + live coal between two turf, one under and the other over it. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” said Sarah, “I'll speak to them before they come in.” And, ere the + words were uttered, she met them. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Mrs. Dalton,” said she; “stop a minute, speak to this poor + girl, and support her. These sogers, and the constables inside, is come + about Sullivan's business, long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” replied Mrs. Dalton; “I've just heard all about it, there + beyond; but she,” pointing to her daughter, “has only crossed the ditch + from the commons, and joined me this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me these,” said Sarah to the girl, “and stay here till I come out + again, wet as it is. Your mother will tell you why.” + </p> + <p> + She took the fire from her as she spoke, and, running in, laid it upon the + hearth, placing, at the same time, two or three turf about in a hurried + manner, but still in a way that argued great presence of mind, amid all + her distraction. On going out again, however, the first object she saw was + one of the soldiers supporting the body of poor Mary, who had sunk under + the intelligence. Mrs. Dalton having entered the cabin, and laid down the + miserable pittance of food which she had been carrying, now waved her hand + with authority and singular calmness, but at the same time with a face as + pallid as death itself. + </p> + <p> + “This is a solemn hour,” said she, “an' a woful sight in this place of + misery. Keep quiet, all of you. I know what this is about, dear Condy,” + she said; “I know it; but what is the value of our faith, if it doesn't + teach us obedience? Kiss your child, here,” said she, “an' go—or + come, I ought to say, for I will go with you. It's not to be wondhered at + that she couldn't bear it, weak, and worn, and nearly heartbroken as she + is. Bless her, too, before you go. An' this girl,” she said, pointing at + Mary, and addressing Sarah, “you will spake to her, an' support her as + well as you can, and stay with them all for an hour or two. I can't lave + him.” + </p> + <p> + Dalton, while she spoke, had taken Mary in his arms, kissed her, and, as + in the case of the others, blessed her with a fervor only surpassed by his + sorrow and utter despair. + </p> + <p> + “I will stay with them,” said Sarah; “don't doubt that—not for an + hour or two, but till they come to either life or death; so I tould him.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a bitther case,” said Mrs. Dalton; “a bitther case; but then it's + God's gracious will, an' them that He loves He chastises. Blessed be His + name for all He does, and blessed be His name ever for this!” + </p> + <p> + Mary now recovered in her father's arms; and her mother, in a low but + energetic voice, pointing to the beds, said: + </p> + <p> + “Think of them, darlin'. There now, part with him. This world, I often + tould you dear, Mary, is not our place, but our passage; an' although it's + painful let us not forget that it is God Himself that is guidin' and + directin' us through it. Come, Con dear, come.” + </p> + <p> + A long mournful embrace, and another sorrowful but fervent blessing, and + with a feeble effort at consolation, Dalton parted with the weeping girl; + and placing his hat on his white head, he gave one long look—one + indescribable look—upon all that was so dear to him in this scene of + unutterable misery, and departed. He had not gone far, however, when he + returned a step or two towards the door; and Mary, having noticed this, + went to him, and throwing her arms once more about his neck, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Father, darlin' an' is it come to this? Oh, did we ever complain or + grumble about all we suffered, while we had you wid us? no, we wouldn't. + What was our sufferins, father, dear—nothing. But, oh, nothing ever + broke our hearts, or troubled us, but to see you in sich sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “It's thrue, Mary darlin'; you wor all—all a blessin' to me; but I + feel, threasure of my heart, that my sorrows an' my cares will soon be + over. It's about Tom I come back. Och, sure I didn't care what he or we + might suffer, if it had plased God to lave him in his senses; but maybe + now he's happier than we are. Tell him—if he can understand it, or + when he does understand it—that I lave my blessin' and God's + blessin' with him for evermore—for evermore: an' with you all; an' + with you, too, young woman, for evermore, amen! And now come; I submit + myself to the will of my marciful Saviour.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up to heaven as he spoke, his two hands raised aloft; after + which he covered his venerable head, and, with this pious and noble + instance of resignation, did the affectionate old man proceed, as well as + his feeble limbs could support him, to the county prison, accompanied by + his pious and truly Christian wife. + </p> + <p> + As the men were about to go, he who had addressed Sarah so rudely, + approached her with as much regret on his face as its hardened and + habitual indifference to human misery could express, and said, tapping her + on the shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “I was rather rough to you, jist now, my purty girl—to' be jabers, + it' is you that is the purty girl. I dunna, by the way, how the ould Black + Prophet came by the likes o' you; but, then he was a handsome vagabond in + his day, himself, an' you are like him.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to say?” she asked, impatiently; “but stand outside, I + won't speak to you here—your voice would waken a corpse. Here, now,” + she added, having gone out upon the causeway, “what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, devil a thing,” he replied; “only you're a betther girl than I tuck + you to be. It's a pitiful case, this—a woful case at his time o' + life. Be heaventhers, but I'd rather a thousand times see Black Boy, your + own precious father, swing, than this poor ould man.” + </p> + <p> + A moment's temporary fury was visible, but she paused, and it passed away; + after which she returned slowly and thoughtfully into the cabin. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to say, that almost immediately the general rumor of + Dalton's arrest for the murder had gone through the whole parish, together + with the fact that it was upon the evidence of the Black Prophet and Red + Rody Duncan, that the proof of it had been brought home to him. Upon the + former occasion there had been nothing against him, but such circumstances + of strong suspicion as justified the neighboring magistrates in having him + taken into custody. On this, however, the two men were ready to point out + the identical spot where the body had been buried, and to identify it as + that of Bartholomew Sullivan. Nothing remained, therefore, now that Dalton + was in custody, but to hold an inquest upon the remains, and to take the + usual steps for the trial of Dalton at the following assizes, which were + not very far distant. Indeed, notwithstanding the desolation that + prevailed throughout the country, and in spite of the care and sorrow + which disease and death brought home to so many in the neighborhood, there + was a very general feeling of compassion experienced for poor old Dalton + and his afflicted family. And among those who sympathized with them, there + was scarcely one who expressed himself more strongly upon the subject than + Mr. Travers, the head agent of the property on which they had lived, + especially upon contrasting the extensive farm and respectable residence, + from which their middleman landlord had so harshly and unjustly ejected + them, with the squalid kennel in which they then endured such a painful + and pitiable existence. This gentleman had come to the neighborhood, in + order to look closely into the condition of the property which had been + entrusted to his management, in consequence of a great number of leases + having expired; some of which had been held by extensive and wealthy + middlemen, among the latter of whom was our friend, Dick o' the Grange. + </p> + <p> + The estate was the property of an English, nobleman, who derived an income + of thirty-two or thirty-three thousand a year from it; and who though, as + landlords went, was not, in many respects, a bad one; yet when called upon + to aid in relieving the misery of those from whose toil he drew so large + an income, did actually remit back the munificent sum of one hundred + pounds! [A recent fact.] The agent, himself, was one of those men who are + capable of a just, but not of a generous action. He could, for instance, + sympathize with the frightful condition of the people—but to + contribute to their relief was no part of his duty. Yet he was not a bad + man. In his transactions with his landlord's tenancy, he was fair, + impartial, and considerate. Whenever he could do a good turn, or render a + service, without touching his purse, he would do it. He had, it is true, + very little intercourse with the poorer class of under tenants, but, + whenever circumstances happened to bring them before him, they found him a + hard, just man, who paid attention to their complaints, but who, in a case + of doubt, always preferred the interest of his employer, or his own, to + theirs. He had received many complaints and statements against the + middlemen who resided upon the property, and he had duly and carefully + considered them. His present visit, therefore, proceeded from a + determination to look closely into the state and condition of the general + tenancy, by which he meant as well those who derived immediately from the + head landlord, as those who held under middlemen. One virtue he possessed, + which, in an agent, deserves every praise; he was inaccessible to bribery + on the one hand, or flattery on the other; and he never permitted his + religious or political principles to degenerate into prejudice, so far as + to interfere with the impartial discharge of his duty. Such was Robert + James Travers, Esq., and we only wish that every agent in the country at + large would follow his example. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — Re-appearance of the Box—Friendly Dialogue + Between Jimmy Branighan and the Pedlar + </h2> + <p> + The next morning but one after the committal of Condy Dalton, the strange + woman who had manifested such an anxious interest in the recovery of the + Tobacco-Box, was seated at her humble fireside, in a larger and more + convenient cottage than that which we have described, where she was soon + joined by Charley Hanlon, who had already made it so comfortable and + convenient that she was able to contribute something towards her own + support, by letting what are termed in the country parts of Ireland, “Dry + Lodgings.” Her only lodger on this occasion was our friend the pedlar, who + had been domiciled with her ever since his arrival in the neighborhood, + and whose principal traffic, we may observe, consisted in purchasing the + flowing and luxuriant heads of hair which necessity on the one hand, and + fear of fever on the other, induced the country maidens to part with. This + traffic, indeed, was very general during the period we are describing, the + fact being that the poor people, especially the females, had conceived a + notion, and not a very unreasonable one, too, that a large crop of hair + not only predisposed them to the fever which then prevailed, but rendered + their recovery from it more difficult. These notions, to be sure, resulted + naturally enough from the treatment which medical men found it necessary + to adopt in dealing with it—every one being aware that in order to + relieve the head, whether by blister or other application, it is necessary + to remove the hair. Be this, however, as it may, it is our duty to state + here that the traffic we allude to was very general, and that many a + lovely and luxuriant crop came under the shears of the pedlars who then + strolled through the country. + </p> + <p> + “Afther all, aunt,” said Hanlon, after having bidden her good morrow, “I'm + afraid it was a foolish weakness to depend upon a dhrame. I see nothing + clear in the business yet. Here now we have got the Box, an' what are we + the nearer to the discovery?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied his aunt, for in that relation she stood to him, “is it + nothing to get even that? Sure we know now that it was his, an' do you + think that M'Gowan, or as they call him, the Black Prophet, would be in + sich a state to get it—an' his wife, too, it seems—unless + there was some raison on their part beyond the common, to come at it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a dark business altogether; but arn't we thrown out of all trace of + it in the mane time? Jist when we thought ourselves on the straight road + to the discovery, it turns out to be another an' a different murdher + entirely—the murdher of one Sullivan.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the pedlar, who had been dressing himself in another small + apartment, made, his appearance, just in time to catch his concluding + words. + </p> + <p> + “An' now,” Hanlon added, “it appears that Sullivan's body has been found + at last. The Black Prophet and Body Duncan knows all about the murdher, + an' can prove the act home to Condy Dalton, and identify the body, they + say, besides.” + </p> + <p> + The pedlar looked at the speakers with a face of much curiosity and + interest, then mused for a time, and at length took a turn or two about + the floor, after which he sat down and began to drum his fingers on the + little table which had been placed for breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Afther I get my breakfast,” he said at length, “I'll thank you to let me + know what I have to pay. It's not my intention to stop undher this roof + any longer; I don't think I'd be overly safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!—arrah why so?” asked the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he replied, “ever since I came here, you have done nothing but + collogue—collogue—an' whisper, an' lay your heads together, + an' divil a syllable can I hear that hasn't murdher at the front an' rear + of it—either spake out, or get me my bill. If you're of that stamp, + it's time for me to thravel; not that I'm so rich as to make it worth any + body's while to take the mouthful of wind out o' me that's in me. What do + you mean by this discoorse?” + </p> + <p> + “May God rest the sowls of the dead!” replied the woman, “but it's not for + nothing that we talk as we do, an' if you knew but all, you wouldn't think + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” he replied, in a dry but dissatisfied voice; “maybe, sure + enough, that the more I'd know of it, the less I'd like of it—here + now is a man named Sullivan—Barney, Bill, or Bartley, or some sich + name, that has been murdhered, an' it seems the murdherer was sent to gaol + yestherday evenin'—the villain! Get me my bill, I say, it's an + unsafe neighborhood, an' I'll take myself out of it, while I'm able.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not widout raisin we talk of murdher then,” replied the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Faith may be so—get me my bill, then, I bid you, an' in the mane + time, let me have, my breakfast. As it is, I tell you both that I carry no + money to signify about me.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him the truth, aunt,” said Hanlon, “there's no use in lyin' under + his suspicion wrongfully, or allowin' him to lave your little place for no + raison.” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, then,” she proceeded, throwing the corner of her apron over + her left shoulder, and rocking herself to and fro, “that this young man + had a dhrame some time ago—he dremt that a near an' dear friend of + his an' of mine too, that was murdhered in this neighborhood, appeared to + him, an' that he desired him to go of a sartain night, at the hour of + midnight, to a stone near this, called the Grey Stone, an' that there he + would get a clue to the murdherer.” + </p> + <p> + 'Well, an' did he?” + </p> + <p> + “He went—an'—but you had betther tell it yourself, avillish,” + she added, addressing Hanlon; “you know best.” + </p> + <p> + The pedlar instantly fixed his anxious and lively eyes on the young man, + intimating that he looked to him for the rest of the story. + </p> + <p> + “I went,” proceeded Hanlon, “and you shall hear everything that happened.” + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary for us, however, to go over the same ground a second + time. Hanlon minutely detailed to him all that had taken place at the Grey + Stone, precisely as it occurred, if we allow for a slight exaggeration + occasioned by his terrors, and the impressions of supernatural + manifestations which they left upon his imagination. + </p> + <p> + The pedlar heard all the circumstances with an astonishment which changed + his whole bearing into that of deep awe and the most breathless attention. + The previous eccentricity of his manner by degrees abandoned him; and as + Hanlon proceeded, he frequently looked at him in a state of abstraction, + then raised his eyes towards heaven, uttering, from time to time, + “Merciful Father!”—“Heaven preserve us!” and such like, thus + accompanying him by a running comment of exclamations as he went along. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, when Hanlon had concluded, “surely the hand of God is in + this business; you may take that for granted.” + </p> + <p> + “I would fain hope as much,” replied Hanlon; “but as the matthers stand + now, we're nearly as far from it as ever. Instead of gettin' any knowledge + of the murdherer we want to discover, it proves to be the murdher of + Sullivan that has been found out.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Sullivan!” he exclaimed; “well, to be sure—oh, ay—well, + sure that same is something; but, in the mane time, will you let me look + at this Box you spoke of? I feel a curiosity to see it.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon rose and taking the Box from a small deal chest which was strongly + locked, placed it in the pedlar's hands. After examining it closely for + about half a minute, they could observe that he got very pale, and his + hands began to tremble, as he held and turned it about in a manner that + was very remarkable. + </p> + <p> + “Do you say,” he asked, in an agitated voice, “that you have no manes of + tracin' the murdher?” + </p> + <p> + “None more than what we've tould you.” + </p> + <p> + “Did this Box belong to the murdhered man?—I mane, do you think he + had it about him at the time of his death?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' for some time before it,” replied the woman. “It's all belongin' + to him that we can find now.” + </p> + <p> + “And you got it in the keeping of this M'Gowan, the Black Prophet, you + say?” + </p> + <p> + “We did,” replied the woman, “from his daughter, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this Black Prophet?” he asked; “or what is he? for that comes + nearer the mark. Where did he come from, where does he live, an' what way + does he earn his bread?” + </p> + <p> + “The boy here,” she replied, pointing to Hanlon, “can tell you that + betther than I can; for although I've been at his place three or four + times, I never laid eyes on him yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued the pedlar, “you have both a right to be thankful that + you tould me this. I now see the hand of God in the whole business. I know + this box an' I can tell you something that will surprise you more than + that. Listen—but wait—I hear somebody's foot. No matter—I'll + surprise you both by an' by.” + </p> + <p> + “Godsave all here,” said the voice of our friend, Jemmy Branigan, who + immediately entered. “In troth, this change is for the betther, at any + rate,” said he, looking at the house; “I gave you a lift wid the masther + yestherday,” he added, turning to the woman. “I think I'll get him to + throw the ten shillings off—he as good as promised me he would.” + </p> + <p> + “Masther!” exclaimed the pedlar, bitterly—“oh, thin, it's he that's + the divil's masther, by all accounts, an' the divil's landlord, too. Be me + sowl, he'll get a warm corner down here;” and as he uttered the words, he + very significantly stamped with his heel, to intimate the geographical + position of the place alluded to. + </p> + <p> + “It would be only manners to wait till your opinion is axed of him,” + replied Jemmy; “so mind your pack, you poor sprissaun, or when you do + spake, endeavor to know something of what you're discoorsin' about. + Masther, indeed! Divil take your impidence!” + </p> + <p> + “He's a scourge to the counthry,” continued the pedlar; “a worse landlord + never faced the sun.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what we call in this part of the counthry—a lie,” replied + Jemmy. “Do you understand what that manes?” + </p> + <p> + “No one knows what an' outrageous ould blackguard he is betther than + yourself,” proceeded the pedlar; “an' how he harrishes the poor.” + </p> + <p> + “That's ditto repated,” responded Jemmy; “you're improvrn'—but tell + me now do you know any one that he harrished?” + </p> + <p> + This was indeed a hazardous question on the part of Jemmy; who, by the + way, put it solely upon the presumption of the peddlar's ignorance of + Dick's proceedings as a landlord, in consequence of his (the pedlar) being + a stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Who did you ever know that he harrished, i' you please?” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the Daltons,” replied the other; “what do you call his conduct to + them?” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy, who, whenever he felt himself deficient in truth, always made up + for the want of it by warmth of temper, now turned shortly upon his + antagonist, and replied, in a spirit very wide of the argument— + </p> + <p> + “What do I call his conduct to them? What do you call the nose on your + face, my codger? Divil a sich an impident crature ever I met.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be no wondher that the curse o' God would come on him for his + tratement to that unfortunate and respectable family,” responded the + pedlar. + </p> + <p> + “The curse o' God knows where to fall best,” replied Jemmy, “or it's not + in the county jail ould Condy Dalton 'ud be for murdher this day.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” returned the other, “isn't it a disgraceful thing to be, as they + say he and yourself is, a pair o' scourges in the hands o' God for your + fellow-creatures; an' in troth you're both fit for it by all accounts.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth,” replied Jemmy, whose gall was fast rising, “it's a scourge wid + nine tails to it ought to go to your back. The Daltons desarved all they + got at his hands; an' the same pack was never anything else than a + hot-brained crew, that 'ud knock you on the head to-day, and groan over + you to-morrow. He sarved them right, an' he's a liar that says to the + contrary; so if you have a pocket for that put it in it.” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy, in fact, was now getting rapidly into a towering passion, for it + mattered little how high in violence his own pitched battles with Dick + ran, he never suffered, nor could suffer a human being to abuse his master + behind his back, but himself. So confirmed, however, by habit, was his + spirit of contradiction, that had the pedlar begun to praise Dick, Jemmy + would immediately have attacked him without remorse, and scarcely have + left a rag of his character together. + </p> + <p> + “It's a shame for you,” proceeded the pedlar, “to defend an' ould sinner + like him; but then as there's a pair of you, that's not unnatural; every + rogue will back his brother. I could name the place, any way, that'll + hould you both yet.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I could,” replied Jemmy, “name the piece of machinery that'll be apt + to hould you, if you give the masther any more abuse. Whether you'll grow + in it or not, is more than I know, but be me sowl, we'll plant you there + any how. Do you know what the stocks manes? Faith, many a spare hour + you've sarved there, I go bail, that is, when, you had nothing else to do—an' + by the way of raycreation jist.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said the pedlar, “listen how he sticks to the ould villain—but + sure, if you put any other two blisthers together, they'll do the same.” + </p> + <p> + “My own opinion is,” observed Hanlon's aunt, “that it's a pity of the + Daltons, at any raite. Every one feels for them—but still the hand + o' God an' his curse, I'm afeard, is upon them.” + </p> + <p> + “An' that's more, maybe, than you know,” replied Jemmy. “Maybe God's only + punishing them, bekaise he loves them. It's good to have our suffering in + this world.” + </p> + <p> + “Afther all,” said the pedlar, “I'm afeard myself, too, that the wrath o' + the Almighty has marked them out. Indeed, I'm sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “An' maybe that's not the only lie you're sure of,” replied Jemmy. “It's a + subject, any way, you don't undherstand. No,” he proceeded, “by all + accounts, Charley, it would wring any one's heart to see him taken away in + his ould age from his miserable family and childre, and then he's so + humble, too, and so resigned to the will an' way o' God. He's lyin' ill in + the gaol. I seen him yestherday—I went to see him an' to say + whatever I could to comfort him. God pity his gray hairs! an'—hem—have + compassion on him and his this day!” + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow's heart could stand the sudden contemplation of Dalton's + sorrow no longer—and on uttering the last words he fairly wept. + </p> + <p> + “If I had known what it was about,” he proceeded; “but that ould scoundrel + of a Prophet—ay, an' that other ould scoundrel of a masther o' mine—hem + ay—whish—but—what am I sayin'?—but if I had known + it, 'ud go hard but I'd give him a lift—so that he might get out o' + the way, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said the pedlar, “at any rate, indeed—faith, you may well say + it; but I say, that at any rate he'll be hanged as sure as he murdhered + Sullivan, and as sure as he did, that he may swing, I pray this day!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll hould no more discoorse wid that circulatin' vagabone,” replied + Jemmy; “I'm a Christian man—a peaceable man; an' I know what my + religion ordhers me to do when I meet the likes of him—and that is + when he houlds the one cheek towardst me to give him a sound Christian rap + upon the other. So to the divil I pitch, you, you villain, sowl and body, + an' that's the worst I wish you. If you choose to be unchristian, be so; + but, be my sowl, I'll not set you the example. Charley,” he proceeded, + addressing Hanlon, “I was sent for you in a hurry. Masther Dick wants you, + and so does Red Rody—the villain! and I tell you to take care of + him, for, like that vagabone, Judas, he'd kiss you this minute and betray + you the next.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you're purty near the truth,” replied Jemmy, “but I was near + forgettin'—it seems the Crowner of the country is sick, an' there + can't be an inquest held till he recovers; if he ever does recover, an' if + it 'ud sarve poor ould Dalton, that he never may, I pray God this day!—come + away, you'll be killed for stayin'.” + </p> + <p> + Just then young Henderson himself called Hanlon forth, who, after some + conversation with him, turned towards the garden, where he held a second + conference with Red Rody, who, on leaving him appeared in excellent + spirits, and kept winking and nodding, with a kind of burlesque good + humor, at every one whom he knew, until he reached home. + </p> + <p> + In this state stood the incidents of our narrative, suspended for some + time by the illness of the coroner, when Mr. Travers, himself a + magistrate, came to the head inn of the county town in which he always put + up, and where he held his office. He had for several days previously gone + over the greater portion of the estate, and inspected the actual condition + of the tenantry on it. It is unnecessary to say that he was grieved at the + painful consequences of the middleman system, and of sub-letting in + general. Wherever he went, he found the soil in many places covered with + hordes of pauper occupants, one holding under another in a series that + diminished from bad to worse in everything but numbers, until he arrived + at a state of destitution that was absolutely! disgraceful to humanity. + And what rendered this state of things doubly painful and anomalous was + the fact, that while these starving wretches lived upon his employer's + property, they had no claim on him as a landlord, nor could he recognize + them as tenants. It is true that these miserable creatures, located upon + small patches of land, were obliged to pay their rents to the little + tyrant who was over them, and he again, probably to a still more important + little tyrant, and so on; but whenever it happened that the direct tenant, + or any one of the series, neglected to pay his or their rent, of course + the landlord had no other remedy than to levy it from off the soil, thus + rendering it by no means an unfrequent case that the small occupiers who + owed nothing to him or those above them were forced to see their property + applied to the payment of the head rent, in consequence of the inability, + neglect, or dishonesty of the middleman, or some other subordinate + individual from whom, they held. This was a state of things which Mr. + Travers wished to abolish, but to do so, without inflicting injury, + however unintentional, or occasioning harshness to the people, was a + matter not merely difficult but impossible. As we are not, however, + writing a treatise upon the management of property, we shall confine + ourselves simply to the circumstances only of such of the tenants as have + enacted a part in our narrative. + </p> + <p> + About a week had now elapsed since the abusive contest between Jemmy + Branigan and the pedlar; the coroner was beginning to recover, and Charley + Hanlon's aunt had disappeared altogether from the neighborhood. Previous + to her departure, however, she, her nephew, and the pedlar, had several + close, and apparently interesting conferences, into which their parish + priest, the Rev. Anthony Devlin, was ultimately admitted. It was clear, + indeed, that whatever secret the pedlar communicated, had inspired both + Hanlon and his aunt with fresh energy in their attempts to discover the + murderer of their relative; and there could be little doubt that the + woman's disappearance from the scene of its perpetration was in some way + connected with the steps they were taking to bring everything connected + with it to light. + </p> + <p> + Travers, already acquainted with the committal of old Dalton, as he was + with all the circumstances of his decline and eviction from his farm, was + sitting in his office, about twelve o'clock, when our friend, the pedlar, + bearing a folded paper in his hand, presented himself, with a request that + he might be favored with a private interview. This, without any + difficulty, was granted, and the following dialogue took place between + them:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, my good friend,” said the agent; “what is the nature of this + private business of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, plase your honor, it's a petition in favor of ould Condy Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + “A petition! Of what use is a petition to Dalton? Is he not now in gaol, + on a charge of murder? You would not have me attempt to obstruct the + course of justice, would you? The man will get a fair trial, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, your honor; but this petition is not about the crime the + unfortunate man is in for; it's an humble prayer to your honor, hopin' you + might restore him—or, I ought rather to say, his poor family, to the + farm that they wor so cruelly put out of. Will your honor read it, sir, + and look into it, bekaise, at any rate, it sets forth too common a case.” + </p> + <p> + “I am partly acquainted with the circumstances, already; however, let me + see the paper.” + </p> + <p> + “The pedlar placed it in Mr. Travers' hands,—who on looking over it, + read, somewhat to his astonishment, as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “The humble petition of Cornelius Dalton, to his Honor, Mr. John Robert + Travers, Esq., on behalf of himself, his Wife, and his afflicted family; + now lying in a state of almost superhuman Destitution—by Eugenius + M'Grane, Philomath and classical Instructor in the learned Languages of + Latin, English, and the Hibernian Vernacular, with an inceptive Initiation + into the Rudiments of Greek, as far as the Gospel of St. John the Divine; + attended with copious Disquisitions on the relative Merits of moral and + physical Philosophy, as contrasted with the pusillanimous Lectures of that + Ignoramus of the first Water, Phadrick M'Swagger, falsely calling himself + Philomath—<i>cum multis aliis quos enumerare longum est</i>: + </p> + <p> + “Humbly Sheweth— + </p> + <p> + “That Cornelius Dalton, late of Cargah, gentleman agriculturist, held a + farm of sixty-six Irish acres, under the Right Honorable (the reverse + could be proved with sound and legitimate logic) Lord Mollyborough, an + absentee nobleman, and proprietor of the Tullystretchem estate. That the + said Cornelius Dalton entered upon the farm of Cargah, with a handsome + capital and abundant stock, as became a man bent on improving it, for both + the intrinsic and external edification and comfort of himself and family. + That the rent was originally very high; and, upon complaint of this, + several well indited remonstrances, urged with most persuasive and + enthusiastic eloquence, as the inditer hereof can testify, were most + insignificantly and superciliously disregarded. That the said Mr. + Cornelius Dalton persisted notwithstanding this great act of + contemptuosity and discouragement to his creditable and industrious + endeavors, to expend, upon the aforesaid farm, in solid and valuable + improvements, a sum of seven hundred pounds and upwards, in building, + draining, enclosing, and manuring—all of which improvements + transcendantly elevated the value of the farm in question, as the whole + rational population of the country could depose to—<i>me ipso teste + quoque</i>. That when this now highly emendated tenement was brought to + the best condition of excellence of which it was susceptible, the + middleman landlord—<i>va miseris agricolis!</i>—called upon + him for an elevation of rent, which was reluctantly complied with, under + the tyrannical alternative of threatened ejection, incarceration of + cattle, &c, &c, and many other proceedings equally inhuman and + iniquitous. That this rack-rent, being now more than the land could pay, + began to paralyze the efforts, and deteriorate the condition of the said + Mr. Cornelius Dalton; and which, being concatenated with successive + failures in his crops, and mortality among his cattle, occasioned him, as + it were, to retrogade from his former state; and in the course of a few + calamitous years, to decline, by melancholy gradation and oppressive + treatment from Richard Henderson, Esq., J.P., his landlord, to a state of + painful struggle and poverty. That the said Richard Henderson, Esq., his + unworthy landlord, having been offered a still higher rent, from a + miserable disciple, named Darby Skinadre, among others, unfeelingly + availed himself of Dalton's <i>res augusta</i>—and under play of his + privileges as a landlord, levied an execution upon his property, auctioned + him out, and expelled him from the farm; thus turning a respectable man + and his family, hopeless and houseless, beggars upon the world, to endure + misery and destitution. That the said Mr. Cornelius Dalton, now plain + Corny Dalton—for vile poverty humilifies even the name—or + rather his respectable family, among whom, <i>facile princeps</i>, for + piety and unshaken trust in her Redeemer, stands his truly unparalleled + wife, are lying in a damp wet cabin within about two hundred perches of + his former residence, groaning with the agonies of hunger, destitution, + dereliction, and disease, in such a state of complicated and multiform + misery as rarely falls to the lot of human eyes to witness. That the + burthen and onus of this petition is, to humbly supplicate that Mr. + Cornelius Dalton, or rather his afflicted and respectable family, may be + reinstated in their farm as aforesaid, or if not, that Richard Henderson, + J.P., may be compelled to swallow such a titillating emetic from the head + landlord as shall compel him to eructate to this oppressed and plundered + man all the money he expended in making improvements, which remain to + augment the value of the farm, but which, at the same time, were the means + of ruining himself and his most respectable family: for, as the bard says, + '<i>sio vos non vobis</i>,' &c, &c. Of the remainder of this + appropriate quotation, your honor cannot be incognizant, or any man who + has had the advantage of being college-bred, as every true gentleman or '<i>homo + factus ad unguem</i>' must have, otherwise he fails to come under this + category.—And your petitioner will ever pray.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you the Mr. Eugenius McGrane,” asked the agent, “who drew up this + extraordinary document?” + </p> + <p> + “No, your honor; I'm only merely a friend of the Daltons, although a + stranger in the neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “But what means have Dalton or his family, granting that he escapes from + this charge of murder that's against him, of stocking or working so large + a farm? I am aware myself that the contents of this petition, with all its + pedantry, are too true.” + </p> + <p> + “But consider, sir, that he sunk seven hundred pounds in it, an' that, + according to everything like fair play, he ought either to get his farm + again, at a raisonable rate, or his money that raised its value for the + landlord, back again; sure, that's but fair, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not here to discuss the morality of the subject, my good friend, + neither do I question the truth of your argument, simply as you put it. I + only say, that what you ask, is impracticable. You probably know not Dick + o' the Grange, for you say you are a stranger—if you did, you would + not put yourself to the trouble of getting even a petition for such a + purpose written.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a hard case, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a hard case; but the truth is, I see nothing that can be done for + the Daltons. To talk of putting a family, in such a state as they are now + in, back again, upon such a farm, is stark nonsense—without stock or + capital of any kind—the thing is ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose they had stock and capital?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, they certainly would have the best right to the farm—but + where's the use of talking about stock or capital, so far as they are + concerned?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish your honor would interfere for an oppressed and ill-treated + family, against as great a rogue, by all accounts, as ever broke bread—I + wish you would make me first sure that they'd get their farm.” + </p> + <p> + “To what purpose, I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, for a raison I have. If your honor will make me sure that + they'll get their land again, that's all I want.”' + </p> + <p> + “What is your reason? Have you capital, and are you willing to assist + them?” + </p> + <p> + The pedlar shook his head. “Is it the likes o' me, your honor? No, but + maybe it might be made up for them some way.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” said the agent, “that your intentions are good; only that + they are altogether impracticable. However, a thought strikes me. Go to + Dick o' the Grange, and lay your case before him. Ask a new lease for your + friends, the Daltons—of course he won't give it; but at all events, + come back to me, and let me know, as nearly in his own words as you can, + what answer he will give you; go now, that is all that I can do for you in + the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Barrin' this, your honor, that set in case the poor heart-broken Daltons + wor to get capital some way.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Travers, interrupting him, “you can assist them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I could!—no, but that set in case, as I said, that it was to + be forthcomin', you persave. Me!—oh, the Lord that <i>I was</i> + able!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied the other, anxious to rid himself of the pedlar, + “that will do, now. You are, I perceive, one of those good-natured, + speculating creatures, who are anxious to give hope and comfort to every + one. The world has many like you; and it often happens, that when some + good fortune does throw the means of doing good into your power, you turn + out to be a poor, pitiful, miserable crew, without actual heart or + feeling. Goodbye, now. I have no more time to spare—try Dick o' the + Grange himself, and let me know his answer.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he rang the bell, and our friend the pedlar, by no means + satisfied with the success of his interview, took his leave. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — Darby in Danger—Nature Triumphs. + </h2> + <p> + The mild and gentle Mave Sullivan, with all her natural grace and + unobtrusive modesty, was yet like many of the fair daughters of her + country, possessed of qualities which frequently lie dormant in the heart + until some trying calamity or startling event of more than ordinary + importance, awakens them into life and action. Indeed, any one in the + habit of observing the world, may have occasionally noticed, that even + within the range of his own acquaintances, there has been many a quiet and + apparently diffident girl, without pretence or affectation of any kind, + who when some unexpected and stunning blow has fallen either upon herself + or upon some one within the circle of her affections, has manifested a + spirit so resolute or a devotion so heroic, that she has at once + constituted herself the lofty example whom all admire and endeavor to + follow. The unrecorded calamities of ordinary life, and the annals of + human affection, as they occur from day to day around us, are full of such + noble instances of courage and self sacrifice on the part of woman for the + sake of those who are dear to her. Dear, holy, and heroic woman! how + frequently do we who too often sneer at your harmless vanities and + foibles, forget the light by which your love so often dispels the darkness + of our affliction, and the tenderness with which your delicious sympathy + charms our sorrows and our sufferings to rest, when nothing else can + succeed in giving us one moment's consolation! + </p> + <p> + The situation of the Daltons, together with the awful blow which fell upon + them at a period of such unexampled misery, had now become the melancholy + topic of conversation among their neighbors, most, if not all, of whom + were, however, so painfully absorbed in their own individual afflictions + either of death, or famine, or illness, as to be able to render them no + assistance. Such as had typhus in their own families were incapable of + attending to the wants or distress of others, and such as had not, acting + under the general terror of contagion which prevailed, avoided the sick + houses as they would a plague. + </p> + <p> + On the morning after old Dalton's removal to prison, Jerry Sullivan and + his family were all assembled around a dull fire, the day being, as usual, + so wet that it was impossible to go out unless upon some matter of unusual + importance; there was little said, for although they had hitherto escaped + the fever, still their sufferings and struggles were such as banished + cheerfulness from among them. Mave appeared more pale and dejected than + they had ever yet seen her, and it was noticed by one or two of the + family, that she had been occasionally weeping in some remote corner of + the house where she thought she might do so without being observed. + </p> + <p> + “Mave, dear,” said her father, “what is the matter wid you? You look, + darlin', to be in very low spirits to-day. Were you cryin'?” + </p> + <p> + She raised her large innocent eyes upon him, and they instantly filled + with tears. + </p> + <p> + “I can't keep it back from you, father,” she replied, “let me do as I will—an' + oh, father dear, when we look out upon the world that is in it, an' when + we see how the hand o' God is takin' away so many from among us, and when + we see how the people everywhere is sufferin' and strugglin' wid so much—how + one is here this day, and in a week to come in the presence of their + Judge! Oh, surely, when we see all the doin's of death and distress about + us, we ought to think that it's no time to harbor hatred or any other bad + or unchristian feelin's in our hearts!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not, indeed, darlin'; an' I hope nobody here does.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied; and as she spoke, the vibrations of sorrow and of + sympathy shook her naturally sweet voice into that tender expression which + touches the heart of the hearer with such singular power—“no, + father,” she proceeded, “I hope not; religion teaches us a different + lesson—not only to forgive our enemies, but to return good for + evil.” + </p> + <p> + “It does, <i>achora machree</i>,” replied her father, whose eyes expressed + a kind of melancholy pride, as he contemplated his beautiful but sorrowful + looking girl, giving utterance to truths which added an impressive and + elevated character to her beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Young and ould, <i>achushla machree</i>, is fallin' about us in every + direction; but may the Father of Mercy spare you to us, my darlin' child, + for if anything was to happen you, where—Oh, where could we look + upon your aiquil, or find anything that could console us for your loss?” + </p> + <p> + “If it's my fate to go, father, I'll go, an if it isn't God will take care + of me; whatever comes, I'm resigned to His will.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, dear, an' you ever wor, too—and for the same raison God's + blessin' will be upon you; but what makes you look so low, avourneen? I + trust in my Saviour, you are not unwell, Mave, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks be to God, no, father; but there's a thing on my mind, that's + distressin' me very much, an' I hope you'll allow me my way in it.” + </p> + <p> + “I may say so, dear; because I know you wouldn't ax me for anything that + 'ud be wrong to grant you. What is it, Mave?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the unhappy an' miserable state that these poor Daltons is in,” she + replied. “Father, dear, forgive me for what I'm about to say; for, + although it may make you angry, there's nothin' farther from my heart than + to give you offence.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't tell me so, Mave; you need not, indeed; but sure you know, + darlin', that unfortunately, we have nothing in our power to do for them; + I wish to the Lord we had! Didn't we do all that people in our poor + condition could do for them? Didn't you, yourself, achora, make us send + them such little assistance as we could spare?—ay, even to sharin' I + may say, our last morsel wid them; an' now, darlin', you know we haven't + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” she replied, as she wiped away the tears; “where is there a + poorer family than we are, sure enough? but, father, dear; we can assist + them—relieve them; ay, maybe save them—for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “God be praised then!” exclaimed Sullivan; “only show me how, an' we'll be + glad to do it; for I can forget everything now, Mave, but their distress.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you know the condition they're in at this moment?” she asked, “do + you know, father, that they're stretched on the bed of sickness? I mean + Nancy an'—an' young Con, who has got into a relapse; poor Mary is + scarcely able to go about, she's so badly recovered from the fever; an' + Tom, the wild unfortunate young man, is out of his senses, they say. Then + there's nobody to look to them but Mrs. Dalton herself; an' she, you know, + has to go 'out' to ask their poor bit from the neighbors. Only think,” she + proceeded, with a fresh burst of sorrow, “oh, only think, father, of sich + a woman bein' forced to this!” + </p> + <p> + “May the Lord pity her an' them, this woeful day!” exclaimed Sullivan. + </p> + <p> + “Now, father,” proceeded Mave; “I know—oh who knows better or so + well—what a good an' a kind an' a forgivin' heart you have; an' I + know that even in spite of the feelin' that was, and maybe is, upon your + mind against them, you'll grant me my wish in what I'm goin' to ask.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it then?—let me hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's this: you know that here, in our family I can do nothing to help + ourselves—that is, there is nothing for me to do—an' I feel + the time hang heavy on my hands. I have been thinkin', father dear, of + this miserable state the poor Daltons is in, without any one to attend + them in their sickness—to say a kind word to them, or to hand them + even a drink of clean water, if they wanted it. Them that hasn't got the + fever yet, won't go near them for fear of catchin' it. What, then, will + become of them? There they are, without the face, or hand, or voice of + kindness about them. Oh, what on God's blessed earth will become of them? + They may die an' they must die, for want of care and assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “But sure that's not our fault, dear Mave; we can't help them.” + </p> + <p> + “We can, father—an' we must; for if we don't they'll die. Father,” + she added, laying her wasted hand in his; “it is my intention to go over + to them—an' as I have nothing that I can do at home, to spend the + greater part of the day with them in takin' care of them—an'—an' + in doin' what I can for them, Yes, father dear—it is my intention—for + there is none but me to do it for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Saviour of earth, Mave dear, is it mad you are? You, <i>achora machree</i>, + that's! dearer to us all than the apple of our eye, or the very pulse of + our hearts—to let you into a plague-house—to let you near the + deadly faver that's upon them—where you'd be sure to catch it; an' + then—oh, blessed Father. Mave what's come over you, to think of sich + a thing?—ay, or to think that we'd let you expose yourself? But it's + all the goodness and kindness of your affectionate heart; put it out of + your head, however—don't name it, or let us hear of it again.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father, it's a duty that our religion teaches us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—what's come over you, Mave?—all at wanst too—you + that was so much afeard of it that you wouldn't go on a windy side of a + feverish house, nor walk near any one that was even recoverin' from it. + Why, what's come over you?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply, father, the thought if I don't go to them and help them, they + will die. I was afeard of the fever, and I am afeard of it—but am I + to let my own foolish fears prevent me from doin' the part of a Christian + to them? Let us put ourselves in their place—an' who knows—although + may God forbid!—but it may be our own before the season passes—suppose + it was our own case—an' that all the world was afeard to come near + us; oh, what would we think of any one, man or woman, that trustin' in + God, would set their own fears at defiance, an' come to our relief.” + </p> + <p> + “Mave, I couldn't think of it; if anything happened you, an' that we lost + you, I never would lay my head down without the bitther thought that I had + a hand in your death.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the mother who had been in another room, came in to the + kitchen—and having listened for a minute to the subject of their + conversation, she immediately joined her husband; but still with feelings + of deep and almost tearful sympathy for the Daltons. + </p> + <p> + “It's like her, poor affectionate girl,” she exclaimed, looking tenderly + at her daughter; “but it's a thing, Mave, we could never think of; so put + it out of your head.” + </p> + <p> + She approached her mother, and, seizing her hands, exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother, for the sake of the livin' God, make it your own case!—think + of it—bring it home to you—look into the frightful state + they're in. Are they to die in a Christian country for want of some kind + person to attend upon them? Is it not our duty, when we know how they are + sufferin'? I cannot rest, or be at ease; an' I am not afeard of fever + here. You may say I love young Condy Dalton, an' that it is on his account + I am wishin' to go. Maybe it is; an' I will now tell you at wanst, that I + do love him, and that if it was the worst plague that ever silenced the + noise of life in a whole country, it wouldn't prevent me from goin' to his + relief, nor to the relief of any one belongin' to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said her father, “that that was at the bottom of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I do love him,” she continued, “an' this is more than ever I had courage + to tell you openly before; but, father, I feel that I am called upon here + to go to their assistance, and to see that they don't die from neglect in + a Christian country. I have trust an' confidence in the Almighty God. I am + not afeard of fever now; and even if I take it an' die, you both know that + I'll die in actin' the part of a Christian girl; an' what brighter hope + could anything bring to us than the happiness that such a death would open + to me? But here I feel that the strength and protection of God is upon me, + and I will not die.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very well Mave,” said her mother; “but if you took it, and did + die—oh, darlin'———” + </p> + <p> + “In God's name, then, I'll take my chance, an' do the duty that I feel + myself called upon to do; and, father dear, just think for a minute—the + thrue Christian doesn't merely forgive the injury but returns good for + evil; and then, above all things, let us make it our own case. As I said + before, if we were as they are—lyin' racked with pain, burnin' with + druth, the head splittin', the whole strength gone—not able, maybe, + to spake, and hardly able to make a sign—to wake ourselves, to put a + drink to our lips;—suppose, I say, we wor lyin' in this state, an' + that all the world had deserted us—oh, wouldn't we say that any + fellow-crature that had the kindness and the courage to come and aid us—wet + our lips, raise our heads, and cheer our sinkin' hearts by the sound of + their voice alone—oh, wouldn't we say that it was God that in His + mercy put it into their heart to come to us, and relieve us, and save us?” + </p> + <p> + The mother's feelings gave way at this picture; and she said, addressing + her husband— + </p> + <p> + “Jerry, maybe it's right that she should go, bekaise, afther all, what if + it's God Himself that has put it into her heart?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, but it was clear that his opposition began to waver. + </p> + <p> + “Think of the danger,” he replied; “think of that. Still if I thought it + was God's own will that was setting her to it—” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” she replied, “let us do what is right, and lave the rest to God + Himself. Surely you aren't afeard to trust in <i>Him</i>. I may take the + fever here at home, without goin' at all, and die; for if it's His blessed + will that I should die of it, nothing can save me, let me go or stay where + I plaise; and if it's not, it matthers little where I go; His divine grace + and goodness will take care of me and protect me. It's to God Himself, + then, you are trustin' me, an' that ought to satisfy you.” + </p> + <p> + Her parents looked at each other—then at her; and, with tears in + their eyes, as if they had been parting with her as for a sacrifice, they + gave a consent, in which that humble confidence in the will of God which + constitutes the highest order of piety, was blended with a natural + yearning and terror of the heart, lest they were allowing her to place + herself rashly within the fatal reach of the contagion which prevailed. + Having obtained their permission, she lost very little time in preparing + for the task she had proposed to execute. A very small portion of meal, + and a little milk, together with one or two jugs of gruel, whey, &c, + she put under her cloak; and after getting the blessings of her parents, + and kissing them and the rest of the family, she departed upon her pious—her + sublime mission, followed by the tears and earnest prayers of her whole + family. + </p> + <p> + How anomalous, and full of mysterious and inexplicable impulses is the + human heart! Mave Sullivan, who, in volunteering to attend at the + contagious beds of the unfortunate Daltons, gave singular and noble proof + of the most heroic devotedness, absolutely turned from the common road, on + her way to their cabin, rather than meet the funeral of a person who had + died of fever, and on one or two occasions kept aloof from men who she + knew to be invalids by the fact of their having handkerchiefs about their + heads—a proof, in general, that they had been shaved or blistered, + while laboring under its severest form. + </p> + <p> + When she had gone within about a quarter of a mile of her destination, she + met two individuals, whose relative positions indicated anything but a + state of friendly feeling between them. The persons we allude to were + Thomas Dalton and the miserable object of his vengeance, Darby Skinadre. + Our readers are aware that Sarah caused Darby to accompany her, for + safety, to the cabin of the Daltons, as she feared that, should young + Dalton again meet him at the head of his mob, and he in such a furious and + unsettled state, the hapless miser might fall a victim to his vengeance. + No sooner, therefore, had the meal-monger heard Tom's name mentioned by + his father, when about to proceed to prison, than he left a dark corner of + the cabin, into which he had slunk, and, passing out, easily disappeared, + without being noticed, in the state of excitement which prevailed. + </p> + <p> + The very name of Tom reminded him that he was in his father's house, and + that should he return, and find him there, he might expect little mercy at + his hands. Tom, however, amidst the melancholy fatuity under which he + labored, never forgot that he had an account to settle with Skinadre. It + ran through his unsettled understanding like a sound thread through a + damaged web; for ever and anon his thought and recollection would turn to + Peggy Murtagh, and the miser's refusal to give her credit for the food she + asked of him. During the early part of that day he had gone about with a + halter in his hand, as if seeking some particular individual; and whenever + he chanced to be questioned as to his object, he always replied with a + wild and ferocious chuckle— + </p> + <p> + “The fellow that killed her!—the fellow that killed her!” + </p> + <p> + Upon the present occasion, Mave was surprised by meeting him and the + miser, whom he must have met accidentally, walking side by side, but in a + position which gave fearful intimation of Dalton's purpose respecting him. + Around the unfortunate wretch's neck was the halter aforesaid, made into a + running noose, while, striding beside him, went his wild and formidable + companion, holding the end of it in his hand, and eyeing him from time to + time with a look of stupid but determined ferocity. Skinadre's appearance + and position were ludicrously and painfully helpless. His face was so pale + and thin that it was difficult to see, even in those frightfuf times of + sickness and famine, a countenance from which they were more significantly + reflected. He was absolutely shrunk up with terror into half his size, his + little thin, corded neck appearing as if it were striving unsuccessfully + to work its way down into his trunk, and his small ferret eyes looking + about in every direction for some one to extricate him out of the deadly + thrall in which he was held. Mave, who had been aware of the enmity which + his companion bore him, as well as of its cause, and fearing that the + halter was intended to hang the luckless mealman, probably upon the next + tree they came to, did not, as many another female would do, avoid or run + away from the madman. On the contrary, she approached him with an + expression singularly winning and sweet on her countenance, and in a voice + of great kindness, laid her hand upon his arm to arrest his attention, + asked him how he did. He paused a moment, and looking upon her with a dull + but turbid eye, exclaimed with an insane laugh, pointing at the same time, + to the miser—“This is the fellow that killed her—ha, ha, ha, + but I have him now—here he is in the noose; in the noose. Ay, an' I + swore it, an' there's another, too, that's to get it, but I won't rob any + body, nor join in that at all; I'll hang him here, though—ha, Darby, + I have you now.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, poor Skinadre received a chuck of the halter which almost + brought his tongue out as far as in the throttling process which we have + before described. + </p> + <p> + “Mave, achora,” said he, looking at her after his recovery from the + powerful jerk he had just got, “for the sake of heaven, try an' save my + life; if you don't he'll never let me out of his hands a livin' man.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed, Darby,” she replied, “poor Tom won't injure you; so far + from that, he'll take the halter from about your neck, an' let you go. + Won't you let poor Darby go, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” he replied, “after I hang him—ha, ha, ha; 'twas he that + killed her; he let her die wid hunger, but now he'll swing for it, ha, + ha!” + </p> + <p> + These words were accompanied by another chuck, which pulled miserable + Skinadre almost off his legs. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, for shame,” said Mave, “why would you do sich an unmanly thing with + this poor ould crature?—be a man, and let him go.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, when he's, hangin', wid his tongue out, ha, ha, ha; wait till we get + to the Rabbit Bank, where there's a tree to be had; I've sworn it, ay, on + her very grave too; so good-by, Mave! Come along, Darby.” + </p> + <p> + “Mave, as you expect to have the gates of Heaven opened to your sowl, an' + don't lave me,” exclaimed the miser with clasped hands. + </p> + <p> + Mave looked up and down the road, but could perceive no one approach who + might render the unfortunate man assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” said she, “I must insist on your settin' the poor man at liberty; I + insist upon it. You cannot, an' you must not take his life in a Christian + country; if you do, you know you will be hanged yourself. Let him go + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ay,” he replied, “you insist, Mave; but I'll tell you what—I'll + put Peggy in a coach yet, when I come into my fortune; an' so you'll + insist, will you? Jest look at that wrist of yours,” he replied, seizing + hers, but with gentleness, “and then look at this of mine; an' now will + you tell me that you'll insist? Come, Darby, we're bound for the Bank; + there's not a beech there but's a hundred feet high, an' that's higher + than ever I'll make you swing from. Your heart bled for her, didn't it! + but how will you look when I have you facin' the sun, wid your tongue + out?” + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” replied the wretch, “I go on my knees to you, an' as you hope, Tom—” + </p> + <p> + “Hope, you hard-hearted hound! isn't her father's curse upon me? ay, an' + in me? Wasn't she destroyed among us? an' you bid me hope. By the broken + heart she died of, you'll get a double tug for that,” and he was about to + drag him on in a state of great violence, when Mave again placed her hand + upon, his arm, and said— + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, Tom, you are not ungrateful; I am sure you would not forget a + kind act done to poor Peggy, that's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Peggy!” he replied, “what's about her? gone!—Peggy gone!—is + she gone?” + </p> + <p> + “She is gone,” replied Mave, “but not lost; an' it is most likely that she + is now looking down with displeasure at your conduct and intentions + towards this poor man; but listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you goin' to spake about Peggy, though?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, and listen. Do you remember one evenin' in the early part of this + summer, it was of a Sunday, there was a crowd about old Brian Murtagh's + house, and the report of Peggy's shame had gone abroad and couldn't be + kept from people's eyes any longer. She was turned out of her father's + house—she was beaten by her brother who swore that he would take the + life of the first person, whether man or woman, young or ould, that would + give her one hour's shelter. She was turned out, poor, young, misled and + mistaken crature, and no one would resave her, for no one durst. There was + a young girl then passin' through the village, on her way home, much about + Peggy's own age, but barring in one respect, neither so good nor so + handsome. Poor Peggy ran to that young girl, an' she was goin' to throw + herself into her arms, but she stopped. 'I am not worthy,' she said, + cryin' bitterly; 'I am not worthy,—but oh, I have no roof to shelter + me, for no one dare take me in. What will become of me?'” + </p> + <p> + While she spoke, Dalton's mind appeared to have been stirred into + something like a consciousness of his situation, and his memory to have + been brought back, as it were, from the wild and turbulent images, which + had impaired its efficacy, to a personal recollection of circumstances + that had ceased to affect him. His features, for instance, became more + human, his eye more significant of his feeling, and his whole manner more + quiet and restored. He looked upon the narrator with an awakened interest, + surveyed Darby, as if he scarcely knew how or why he came there, and then + sighed deeply. Mave proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “'I am an outcast now,' said poor Peggy; 'I have neither house nor home; I + have no father, no mother, no brother, an' he that I loved, an' said that + he loved me, has deserted me. Oh,' said she, 'I have nothing to care for, + an' nobody to care for me now, an' what was dearest of all—my good + name—is gone: no one will shelter me, although I thought of nothing + but my love for Thomas Dalton!' She was scorned, Thomas Dalton, she was + insulted and abused by women who knew her innocence and her goodness till + she met him; every tongue was against her, every hand was against her, and + every door was closed against her; no, not every one—the young woman + she spoke to, with tears in her eyes, out of compassion for one so young + and unfortunate, brought Peggy Murtagh home, and cried with her, and gave + her hope, and consoled her, and pleaded with her father and mother for the + poor deluded girl in such a way that they forgot her misfortune and + sheltered her; till, after her brother's death, she was taken in again to + her own father's house. Now, Tom, wouldn't you like to oblige that girl + who was kind to poor Peggy Murtagh?” + </p> + <p> + “It was in Jerry Sullivan's—it was into your father's house she was + taken.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Tom; and the young woman who befriended Peggy Murtagh is now + standin' by your side and asks you to let Darby Skinadre go; do, then, let + him go, for the sake of that young woman!” + </p> + <p> + Mave, on concluding, looked up into his face, and saw that his eyes were + moist; he then smiled moodily, and, placing his hand upon her head in an + approving manner, said— + </p> + <p> + “You wor always good, Mave—here, set Darby free; but my mind's + uneasy; I'm not right, I doubt:—nor as I ought to be; but I'll tell + you what—I'll go back towards home wid you, if you'll tell me more + about Peggy.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so,” she replied, delighted at such a proposal; “an' I will tell you + many a thing about her; an' you, Darby,” she added, turning round to that + individual—short, however, as the time was, the exulting, but still + trembling usurer was making his way, at full speed, towards his own house; + so that she was spared the trouble of advising him, as she had intended, + to look to his safety as well as he could. Such was the gentle power with + which Mave softened and subdued this ferocious and unsettled young man to + her wishes; and, indeed, so forcible in general was her firm but serene + enthusiasm, that wherever the necessity for exerting it occurred, it was + always crowned with success. + </p> + <p> + Thomas Dalton as might be expected, swayed by the capricious impulse of + his unhappy derangement, did not accompany her to his father's cabin. When + within a few hundred yards of it, he changed his intention, and struck + across the country like one who seemed uncertain as to the course he + should take. Of late, indeed, he rambled about, sometimes directing, + otherwise associating himself with, such mobs as we have described; + sometimes wandering, in a solitary manner, through the country at large; + and but seldom appearing at home. On the present occasion, he looked at + Mave, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I hate sick people, Mave, an' I won't go home; but, whisper, when you see + Peggy Murtagh's father, tell him that I'll have her in a coach, yet, + plaise God, an' he'll take the curse off o' me, when he hears it, maybe, + an' all will be right.” + </p> + <p> + He then bid her good-bye, turned from the road, and bent his steps in the + direction of the Rabbit Bank, on one of the beeches of which he had + intended to hang the miser. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — Rivalry. + </h2> + <p> + If the truth were known, the triumph which Mave Sullivan achieved over the + terror of fever which she felt in common with almost every one in the + country around her, was the result of such high-minded devotion, as would + have won her a statue in the times of old Greece, when self-sacrifice for + human good was appreciated and rewarded. In her case, indeed, the triumph + was one of almost unparalleled heroism; for among all the difficulties + which she had to overcome, by far the greatest was her own constitutional + dread of contagion. It was only on reaching the miserable pest-house in + which the Daltons lived, and on witnessing, with her own eyes, the clammy + atmosphere which, in the shape of dark heavy smoke, was oozing in all + directions from its roof, that she became conscious of the almost fatal + step that she was about to take, and the terrible test of Christian duty + and exalted affection, to which she was in the act of subjecting herself. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at the door, and when about to enter, even the resolution she + had come to, and the lofty principle of trust in God, on which it rested, + were scarcely able to support her against the host of constitutional + terrors, which, for a moment, rushed upon her breast. The great act of + self-sacrifice, as it may almost be termed, which she was about to + perform, became so diminished in her imagination, that all sense of its + virtue passed away; and instead of gaining strength from a consciousness + of the pure and unselfish motive by which she was actuated, she began to + contemplate her conduct as the result of a rash and unjustifiable + presumption on the providence of God, and a wanton exposure of the life he + had given her. She felt herself tremble; her heart palpitated, and for a + minute or two her whole soul became filled with a tumultuous and + indistinct! perception of all she had proposed to do, as well as of + everything about her. Gradually, however, his state of feeling cleared + away—by and by the purity and Christian principle that were involved + in her conduct, came to her relief. + </p> + <p> + “What,” she asked herself, “if they should die without assistance? In + God's name, and with his strength to aid me, I will run all risks, and + fulfil the task I have taken upon me to do. May he support and protect me + through it.” + </p> + <p> + Thus resolved, and thus fortified, she entered the gloomy scene of + sickness and contagion. + </p> + <p> + There were but four persons within: that is to say, her lover, his sister + Nancy, Mary the invalid, and Sarah M'Gowan. Nancy and her brother were now + awake, and poor Mary occupied her father's arm-chair, in which she sat + with her head reclined upon the back of it, somewhat, indeed, after his + own fashion—and Sarah opposite young Con's bed, having her eyes + fixed, with a mournful expression, on his pale and almost deathlike + countenance. Mave's appearance occasioned the whole party to feel much + surprise—and Mary rose from her arm-chair, and greeting her + affectionately, said— + </p> + <p> + “I cannot welcome you, dear Mave, to sick a place as this—and indeed + I am sorry you came to see us—for I needn't tell you what I'd feel—what + we'd all feel,” and here she looked quickly, but with the slightest + possible significance at her brother, “if anything happened you in + consequence; which may God forbid! How are you all at home?” + </p> + <p> + “We are all free from sickness, thank God,” said Mave, whom the presence + of Sarah caused to blush deeply; “but how are you all here? I am sorry to + find that poor Nancy is ill—and that Con has got a relapse.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her eyes upon him as she spoke, and, on contemplating his + languid and sickly countenance, she could only, by a great effort, repress + her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Do not come near us, dear Mave,” said Dalton, “and, indeed, it was wrong + to come here at all.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, an' guard you, Mave,” said Nancy, “an' we feel your + goodness; but as Con says, it was wrong to put yourself in the way of + danger. For God's sake, and as you hope to escape this terrible sickness, + lave the house at wanst. We're sensible of your kindness—but lave us—lave + us—for every minute you stop, may be death to you.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah, who had never yet spoken to Mave, turned her black mellow eyes from + her to her lover, and from him to her alternately. She then dropped them + for a time on the ground, and again looked round her with something like + melancholy impatience. Her complexion was high and flushed, and her eyes + sparkled with unaccustomed brilliancy. + </p> + <p> + “It's not right two people should run sich risk on our account,” said Con, + looking towards Sarah; “here's a young woman who has come to nurse, tend + and take care of us, for which, may God bless her, and protect her!—it's + Sarah M'Gowan, Donnel Dhu's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of Mave Sullivan,” said Sarah—“think only' of Mave Sullivan—she's + in danger—ha—but as for me—suppose I should take the + faver and die?” + </p> + <p> + “May God forbid, poor girl,” exclaimed Con; “it would lave us all a sad + heart. Dear Mave don't stop here—every minute is dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah went over to the bedside, and putting her hand gently upon his + forehead, said— + </p> + <p> + “Don't spake to pity me—I can't bear pity; anything at all but pity + from you. Say you don't care what becomes of me, or whether I die or not—but + don't pity me.” + </p> + <p> + It is extremely difficult to describe Sarah's appearance and state of mind + as she spoke this. Her manner towards Con was replete with tenderness, and + the most earnest and anxious interest, while at the same time there ran + through her voice a tone of bitter feeling, an evident consciousness of + something that pressed strongly on her heart, which gave a marked and + startling character to her language. + </p> + <p> + Mave for a moment forgot everything but the interest which Sarah, and the + mention of her, excited. She turned gently round from Mary, who had been + speaking to her, and fixing her eyes on Sarah, examined her with + pardonable curiosity, from head to foot; nor will she be blamed, we trust, + if, even then and there, the scrutiny was not less close, in consequence + of it having been I known to her that in point of beauty, and symmetry of + figure, they had stood towards each other, for some time past, in the + character of rivals. Sarah who had on, without stockings, a pair of small + slippers, a good deal the worse for wear, had risen from the bed side, and + now stood near the fire, directly opposite the only little window in the + house, and, consequently, in the best light it afforded. Mave's glance, + though rapid, was comprehensive; but she felt it was sufficient: the + generous girl, on contemplating the wild grace and natural elegance of + Sarah's figure, and the singular beauty and wonderful animation of her + features, instantly, in her own mind, surrendered all claim to + competition, and admitted to herself that Sarah was, without exception, + the most perfectly beautiful girl she ever seen. Her last words, too, and + the striking tone in which they were spoken, arrested her attention still + more; so that she passed naturally from the examination of her person to + the purport of her language. + </p> + <p> + We trust that our readers know enough of human nature, to understand that + this examination of Sarah, upon the part of Mave Sullivan, was altogether + an involuntary act, and one which occurred in less time than we have taken + to write any one of the lines in which it is described. + </p> + <p> + Mave, who perceived at once that the words of Sarah were burdened by some + peculiar distress, could not prevent her admiration from turning into pity + without exactly knowing why; but in consequence of what Sarah had just + said, she feared to express it either by word or look, lest she might + occasion her unnecessary pain. She consequently, after a slight pause, + replied to her lover— + </p> + <p> + “You must not blame me, dear Con, for being here. I came to give whatever + poor attendance I could to Nancy here, and to sich of you as want it, + while you're sick. I came, indeed, to stay and nurse you all, if you will + let me; an' you won't be sorry to hear it, in spite of all that has + happened, that I have the consent of my father an' mother for so doin'.” + </p> + <p> + A faint smile of satisfaction lit up her lover's features, but this was + soon overshadowed by his apprehension for her safety. + </p> + <p> + Sarah, who had for about a half minute been examining Mave on her part, + now started, and exclaimed with flashing eyes, and we may add, a bursting + and distracted heart— + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mave Sullivan, I have often seen you, but never so well as now. You + have goodness an' truth in your face. Oh, it's a purty face—a lovely + face. But why do you state a falsehood here—for what you've just + said is false; I know it.” + </p> + <p> + Mave started, and in a moment her pale face and neck were suffused by one + burning blush, at the idea of such an imputation. She looked around her, + as if enquiring from all those who were present the nature of the + falsehood attributed to her; and then with a calm but firm eye, she asked + Sarah what she could mean by such language. + </p> + <p> + “You're afther sayin',” replied Sarah, “that you're come here to nurse + Nancy there. Now that's not true, and you know it isn't. You come here to + nurse young Con Dalton: and you came to nurse him, bekaise you love him. + No, I don't blame you for that, but I do for not saying so, without fear + or disguise—for I hate both.” + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn't be altogether true either,” replied Mave, “if I said so; + for I did come to nurse Nancy, and any others of the family that might + stand in need of it. As to Con, I'm neither ashamed to love him, nor + afeard to acknowledge it; and I had no notion of statin' a falsehood when + I said what I did. I tell you, then, Sarah M'Gowan, that you've done me + injustice. If there appeared to be a falsehood in my words, there was none + in my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “That's truth; I know, I feel that that's truth,” replied Sarah, quickly; + “but oh, how wrong I am,” she exclaimed, “to mention that or anything else + here that might distract him! Ah,” she proceeded, addressing Mave, “I did + you injustice—I feel I did, but don't be angry with me, for I + acknowledge it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I be angry with you?” replied Mave, “you only spoke what you + thought, an' this, by all accounts, is what you always do.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us talk as little as possible here,” replied Sarah, the sole + absorbing object of whose existence lay in Dalton's recovery. “I will + speak to you on your way home, but not here—not here;” and while + uttering the last words she pointed to Dalton, to intimate that further + conversation might disturb him. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mave,” observed Mary, now rising from her chair, “you are stayin' + too long; oh, for God's sake, don't stop; you can't dhrame of the danger + you're in.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” replied Mave, calmly, “you know, Mary, that I came to stop and to + do whatever I can do till the family comes round. You are too feeble to + undertake anything, and might only get into a relapse if you attempted + it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, then we have Sarah M'Gowan,” she replied, “who came, as few would—none + livin' this day, I think, barrin' yourself and her—to stay with us, + and to do anything that she can do for us all. May God for ever bless her! + for short as the time is, I think she has saved some of our lives—Condy's + without a doubt.” + </p> + <p> + Mave turned towards Sarah, and, as she looked upon her, the tears started + to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Sarah M'Gowan,” said she, “you are fond of truth, an' you are right; I + can't find words to thank you for doin' what you did, God bless and reward + you!” + </p> + <p> + She extended her hand as she spoke, but Sarah put it back. “No,” said she, + indignantly, “never from you; above all that's livin' don't you thank me. + You, you, why you arn't his wife yet,” she exclaimed, in a suppressed + voice of deep agitation, “an maybe you never will. You don't know what may + happen—you don't know—” + </p> + <p> + She immediately seemed to recollect something that operated as a motive to + restrain any exhibition of strong feeling or passion on her part, for all + at once she composed herself, and sitting down, merely said:— + </p> + <p> + “Mave Sullivan, I'm glad you love truth, and I believe you do; I can't, + then, resave any thanks from you, nor I won't; an' I would tell you why, + any place but here.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't at all understand you,” replied Mave; “but for your care and + attention to him, I'm sure it's no harm to say, may God reward you! I will + never forget it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “While I have life,” said Dalton feebly, and fixing his eyes upon Sarah's + face, “I, for one, won't forget her kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness!” she re-echoed—“ha, ha!—well, it's no matter—it's + no matter!” + </p> + <p> + “She saved my life, Mave; I was lyin' here, and hadn't even a drink of + water, and there was no one else in the house; Mary, there, was out, an' + poor Nancy was ravin' an' ragin' with illness and pain; but she, Sarah, + was here to settle us, to attend us, to get us a drink whenever we wanted + it—to raise us up, an' to put it to our lips, an' to let us down + with as little pain as possible. Oh, how could I forget all this? Dear, + dear Sarah, how could I forget this if I was to live a thousand years?” + </p> + <p> + Con's face, while he spoke, became animated with the enthusiasm of the + feeling to which he gave utterance, and, as his eyes were fixed on Sarah + with a suitable expression, there appeared to be a warmth of emotion in + his whole manner which a sanguine person might probably interpret in + something beyond gratitude. + </p> + <p> + Sarah, after he had concluded, looked upon him with a long, earnest, but + uncertain gaze; so long, indeed, and so intensely penetrating was it, that + the whole energy of her character might, for a time, be read clearly in + the singular expression of her eyes. It was evident that her thoughts were + fluttering between pleasure and pain, cheerfulness and gloom; but at + length her countenance lost, by degrees its earnest character, the + alternate play of light and shadow over it ceased, and the gaze changed, + almost imperceptibly, into one of settled abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “It might be,” she said, as if thinking aloud—“it might be—but + time will tell; and, in the manetime, everything must be done fairly—fairly; + still, if it shouldn't come to pass—if it should not—it would + be betther if I had never been born; but it may be, an' time will tell.” + </p> + <p> + Mave had watched her countenance closely, and without being able to + discover the nature of the conflict that appeared in it, she went over, + and placing her hand gently upon Sarah's arm, exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Don't blame me for what I'm goin' to say, Sarah—if you'll let me + call you Sarah; but the truth is, I see that your mind is troubled. I wish + to God I could remove that trouble, or that any one here could! I am sure + they all would, as willingly as myself.” + </p> + <p> + “She is troubled,” said Mary; “I know by her manner that there's something + distressing on her mind. Any earthly thing that we could do to relieve her + we would; but I asked her, and she wouldn't tell me.” + </p> + <p> + It is likely that Mary's kindness, and especially Mave's, so gently, but + so sincerely expressed, touched her as they spoke. She made no reply, + however, but approached Mave with a slight smile on her face, her lips + compressed, and her eyes, which were fixed and brilliant, floating in + something that looked like moisture, and which might as well have been + occasioned by the glow of anger as the impulse of a softer emotion, or + perhaps—and this might be nearer the truth—as a conflict + between the two states of feeling. For some moments she looked into Mave's + very eyes, and after a little, she seemed to regain her composure, and sat + down without speaking. There was a slight pause occasioned by the + expectation that she had been about to reply, during which Dalton's eyes + were fixed upon her. In her evident distress, she looked upon him. Their + eyes met, and the revelation that that glance of anguish, on the part of + Sarah, gave to him, disclosed the secret. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he exclaimed, involuntarily and unconsciously, “is this + possible?” + </p> + <p> + Sarah felt that the discovery had been made by him at last; and seeing + that all their eyes were still upon her, she rose up, and approaching + Mave, said— + </p> + <p> + “It is true, Mave Sullivan, I am troubled—Mary, I am troubled;” and + as she uttered the words, a blush so deep and so beautiful spread itself + over her face and neck, that the very females present were, for the + moment, lost in admiration of her radiant youth and loveliness. Dalton's + eyes were still upon her, and after a little time, he said— + </p> + <p> + “Sarah, come to me.” + </p> + <p> + She went to his bedside, and kneeling, bent her exquisite figure over him; + and as her dark brilliant eyes looked into his, he felt the fragrance of + her breath mingling with his own. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “You are too near me,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I feel I am,” she said, shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + “I mane,” he added, “for your own safety. Give me your hand, dear Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + He took her hand, and raising himself a little on his right side, he + looked upon her again; and as he did so, she felt a few warm tears falling + upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said, “lay me down again, Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments of ecstatic tumult, in which Sarah was unconscious of + anything about her, passed. She then rose, and sitting down on the little + stool, she wept for some minutes in silence. During this quiet paroxysm no + one spoke; but when Dalton turned his eyes upon Mave Sullivan, she was + pale as ashes. + </p> + <p> + Mary, who had noticed nothing particular in the incidents just related, + now urged Mave to depart; and the latter, on exchanging glances with + Dalton, could perceive that a feeble hectic had overspread his face. She + looked on him earnestly for a moment, then paused as if in thought, and + going round to his bedside, knelt down, and taking his hand, said— + </p> + <p> + “Con, if there is any earthly thing that I can do to give ease and comfort + to your mind, I am ready to do it. If it would relieve you, forget that + you ever saw me, or ever—ever—knew me at all. Suppose I am not + living—that I am dead. I say this, dear Con, to relieve you from any + pain or distress of mind that you may feel on my account. Believe me, I + feel everything for you, an' nothing now for myself. Whatever you do, I + tell you that a harsh word or thought from me you will never have.” + </p> + <p> + Mave, while she spoke, did not shed a tear; nor was her calm, sweet voice + indicative of any extraordinary emotion. Sarah, who had been weeping until + the other began to speak, now rose up, and approaching Mave, said— + </p> + <p> + “Go, Mave Sullivan—go out of this dangerous house; and you, Condy + Dalton, heed not what she has said. Mave Sullivan, I think I understand + your words, an' they make me ashamed of myself, an' of the thoughts that + have been troublin' me. Oh, what am I when compared to you?—nothing + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Mave had, on entering, deposited the little matters she had brought for + their comfort, and Mary now came over, and placing her hand on her + shoulder, said: + </p> + <p> + “Sarah is right, dear Mave; for God's sake do not stay here. Oh, think—only + think if you tuck this faver, an' that anything happened you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Sarah, “leave this dangerous place; I will see you part of + the way home—you can do nothing here that I won't do, and everything + that I can do will be done.” Her lover's eyes had been fixed upon her, and + with a feeble voice—for the agitation had exhausted him—he + added his solicitations for her departure to theirs. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I will soon be better, dear Mave, and able to get up too—but + may God bless you and take care of you till then!” + </p> + <p> + Mave again went round and took his hand, on which he felt a few tears + fall. + </p> + <p> + “I came here, dear Con,” she said, “to take care of you all, and why need + I be ashamed to say so—to do all I could for yourself. Sarah here + wishes me to spake the truth, an' why shouldn't I? Think of my words then, + Con, and don't let me or the thoughts of me occasion you one moment's + unhappiness. To see you happy is all the wish I have in this world.” + </p> + <p> + She then bade them an affectionate farewell, and was about to take her + departure, when Sarah, who had been musing for a moment, went to Dalton, + and having knelt on one knee, was about to speak, and to speak, as was + evident from her manner, with great earnestness, when she suddenly + restrained herself, clasped her hands with a vehement action, looked + distractedly from him to Mave, and then suddenly rising, took Mave's hand, + and said: + </p> + <p> + “Come away—it's dangerous to stop where this fever is—you + ought to be careful of yourself—you have friends that loves you, and + that would feel for you if you were gone. You have a kind good father,—a + lovhin' mother—a lovin' mother, that you could turn to, an' may turn + to, if ever you should have a sore heart—a mother—oh, that + blessed word—what wouldn't I give to say that I have a mother! Many + an' outrage—many a wild fit of passion—many a harsh word, too—oh, + what mightn't I be now if I had a mother? All the world thinks I have a + bad heart—that I'm without feelin'; but, indeed, Mave Sullivan, I'm + not without feelin', an' I don't think I have a bad heart.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not a bad heart,” replied Mave, taking her hand; “no one, dear + Sarah, could look into your face and say so; no, but I think so far from + that, your heart is both kind and generous.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” she replied, “I hope I have—now come you and leave this + dangerous house; besides I have something to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + Mave and she proceeded along the old causeway that led to the cabin, and + having got out upon the open road, Sarah stood. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mave Sullivan,” said she, “listen—you do me only justice to + say that I love truth, an' hate a lie, or consalement of any kind. I ax + you now this—you discovered awhile ago that I love Condy Dalton? + Isn't that thrue?” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't altogether certain,” replied Mave, “but I thought I did—an' + now I think you do love him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do love him—oh, I do—an' why as you said, should I be + ashamed of it?—ay, an' it was my intention to tell you so the first + time I'd see you, an' to give you fair notice that I did, an' that I'd + lave nothing undone to win him from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied the other, “this is open and honest, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “That was my intention,” pursued Sarah, “an' I had, for a short time, + other thoughts; ay, an' worse thoughts; my father was pursuadin' me—but + I can't spake on that—for he has my promise not to do so. Oh, I'm + nothing, dear Mave—nothing at all to you. I can't forget your words + awhile ago—bekaise I knew what you meant at the time, when you said + to Con, 'any earthly thing that I can do to give aise and comfort to your + mind. I am ready to do it. If it would relieve you, forget that you ever + saw me or ever knew me.' Now, Mave, I've confessed to you that I love Con + Dalton—but I tell you not to trouble your heart by any thoughts of + me; my mind's made up as to what I'll do—don't fear me, I'll never + cross you here. I'm a lonely creature,” she proceeded, bursting into + bitter tears; “I'm without friends and relations, or any one that cares at + all about me—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say so,” replied Mave, “I care about you, an' it's only now that + people is beginning to know you—but that's not all, Sarah, if it's + any consolation to you to know it—know it—Condy Dalton loves + you—ay, loves you, Sarah M'Gowan—you may take my word for that—I + am certain this day that what I say is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Loves me!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Loves you,” repeated Mave, “is the word, an I have said it.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't suspect that when I spoke,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + Each looked upon the other, and both as they stood were as pale as death + itself. At length Mave spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I have only one thought, Sarah, an' that is how to make him happy; to see + him happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I can scarcely spake,” replied Sarah; “I wouldn't know what to say if I + did. I'm all confused; Mave, dear, forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you,” replied Mave, “for you are truth an' honesty itself. God + bless an' you, make him happy! Good-bye, dear Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + She put her hand into Sarah's and felt that it trembled excessively—but + Sarah was utterly passive; she did not even return the pressure which she + had received, and when Mave departed, she was standing in a reverie, + incapable of thought, deadly pale, and perfectly motionless. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTEE XXV. — Sarah Without Hope. + </h2> + <p> + How Sarah returned to Dalton's cabin she herself knew not. Such was the + tumult which the communication then made to her by Mave, had occasioned in + her mind, that, the scene which had just taken place, altogether appeared + to her excited spirit like a troubled dream, whose impressions were too + unreal and deceptive to be depended on for a moment. The reaction from the + passive state in which Mave had left her, was, to a temperament like + her's, perfectly overwhelming. Her pulse beat high, her cheek burned, and + her eye flashed with more than its usual fire and overpowering brilliancy, + and, with the exception of one impression alone, all her thoughts were so + rapid and indistinct as to resemble the careering clouds which fly in + tumult and confusion along the troubled sky, with nothing stationary but + the sun far above, and which, in this case, might be said to resemble the + bright conviction of Dalton's love for her, that Mave's assurance had left + behind it. On re-entering the cabin, without being properly conscious of + what she either did or said, she once more knelt by the side of Dalton's + bed, and hastily taking his unresisting hand, was about to speak; but a + difficulty how to shape her language held her in a painful and troubled + suspense for some moments, during which Dalton could plainly perceive the + excitement, or rather rapture, by which she was actuated. At length a gush + of hot and burning tears enabled her to speak, and she said: + </p> + <p> + “Con Dalton—dear Con, is it true? can it be true?—oh, no—no—but, + then, she says it—is it true that you like me—like me!—no, + no—that word is too wake—is it true that you love me? but no—it + can't be—there never was so much happiness intended for me; and + then, if it should be true—oh, if it was possible, how will I bear + it? what will I do? what—is to be the consequence? for my love for + you is beyond all belief—beyond all that tongue can tell. I can't + stand this struggle—my head is giddy—I scarcely know what I'm + sayin', or is it a dhrame that I'll waken from, and find it false—false?” + </p> + <p> + Dalton pressed her hand, and looking tenderly upon her face, replied: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sarah, forgive me; your dhrame is both thrue and false. It is true + that I like you—that I pity you; but you forbid me to say that—well + it is true, I say, that I like you; but I can't say more. The only girl I + love in the sense you mane, is Mave Sullivan. I could not tell you an + untruth, Sarah; nor don't desave yourself. I like you, but I love her.” + </p> + <p> + She started up, and in an instant dashed the tears from her cheeks; after + which she said: + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to know it; you have said the truth—the bitther truth; + ay, bitther it will prove, Condy Dalton, to more than me. My happiness in + this world is now over forever. I never was happy; an' its clear that the + doom is against me; I never will be happy. I am now free to act as I like. + No matther what I do, it can't make me feel more than I feel now. I might + take a life; ay, twenty, an' I couldn't feel more miserable than I am. + Then, what is there to prevent me from workin' out my own will, an' doin' + what my father wishes? I may make myself worse an' guiltier; but unhappier + I cannot be. That poor, weak hope was all I had in this world; but that is + gone; and I have no other hope now.” + </p> + <p> + “Compose yourself, dear Sarah; calm yourself,” said Dalton. + </p> + <p> + “Don't call me dear Sarah,” she replied; “you were wrong ever to do so. + Oh, why was I born! an' what has this world an' this life been to me but + hardship an' sorrow? But still,” she added, drawing herself up, “I will + let you all see what pride can do. I now know my fate, an' what I must + suffer: an' if one tear would gain your love, I wouldn't shed it—never, + never.” + </p> + <p> + “Sarah,” said Mary, in a soothing voice, “I hope you won't blame poor Con. + You don't know maybe that himself an' Mave Sullivan has loved one another + ever since they were—” + </p> + <p> + “No more about Mave Sullivan,” she replied, almost fiercely; “lave her to + me. As for me, I'll not brake my word, either for good or evil; I was + never the one to do an ungenerous—an ungenerous—no—” She + paused, however, as if struck by some latent conviction, and, in a panting + voice, she added, “I must lave you for a while, but I will be back in an + hour or two; oh, yes I will; an' in the mane time, Mary, anything that is + to be done, you can do it for me till I come agin. Mave Sullivan! Mave + Sullivan! lave Mave Sullivan to me!” + </p> + <p> + She then threw an humble garment about her, and in a few minutes was on + her way to have an interview with her father. On reaching home, she found + that he had arrived only a few minutes before her; and to her surprise he + expressed something like; good humor, or, perhaps, gratification at her + presence there. On looking into her face more closely, however, he had + little trouble in perceiving that something extraordinary had disturbed + her. He then glanced at Nelly, who, as usual, sat gloomily by the fire, + knitting her brows and groaning with suppressed ill-temper as she had been + in the habit of doing, ever since she suspected that Donnel had made a + certain disclosure, connecting with her, to Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “has there been another battle? have you been <i>ding + dust</i> at it as usual? What's wrong, Sally? eh? Did it go to blows wid + you, for you looked raised?” + </p> + <p> + “You're all out of it,” replied Nelly; “her blood's up, now, an' I'm not + prepared for a sudden death. She's dangerous this minute, an' I'll take + care of her. Blessed man, look at her eyes.” + </p> + <p> + She repeated these words with that kind of low, dogged ridicule and scorn + which so frequently accompany stupid and wanton brutality; and which are, + besides, provoking, almost beyond endurance, when the mind is chafed by a + consideration of an exciting nature. + </p> + <p> + Sarah flew like lightning to the old knife, which we have already + mentioned, and, snatching it from the shelf of the dresser, on which it + lay, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “I have now no earthly thought, nor any hope of good in this world, to + keep my hand from evil; an' for all ever you made me suffer, take this—” + </p> + <p> + Her father had not yet sat down, and it was, indeed, well that he had not—for + it required all his activity and strength united, to intercept the + meditated blow, by seizing his daughter's arm.' + </p> + <p> + “Sarah,” said he, “what is this? are you mad, you murdhering jade, to + attempt the vagabond's life? for she is a vagabond, and an ill-tongued + vagabond. Why do you provoke the girl by sich language, you + double-distilled ould sthrap? you do nothin' but growl an' snarl, an' + curse, an' pray—ay, pray, from mornin' to night, in sich a way, that + the very devil himself could not bear you, or live wid you. Begone out o' + this, or I'll let her at you, an' I'll engage she'll give you what'll + settle you.” + </p> + <p> + Nelly rose, and putting on her cloak went out. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin',” she replied, looking at, and addressing the Prophet; “an' + plaise God, before long I'll have the best wish o' my heart fulfilled, by + seein' you hanged; but, until then, may my curse, an' the curse o' God + light on you and pursue you. I know you have tould her everything, or she + wouldn't act towards me as she has done of late.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah stood like the Pythoness, in a kind of savage beauty, with the knife + firmly grasped in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad she's gone,” she said; “but it's not her, father, that I ought + to raise my hand against.” + </p> + <p> + “Who then, Sarah?” he asked, with something like surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You asked me,” she proceeded, “to assist in a plan to have Mave Sullivan + carried off by young Dick o' the Grange—I'm now ready for anything, + and I'll do it. This world, father, has nothing good or happy in it for me—now + I'll be aquil to it; if it gives me nothing good, it'll get nothing out of + me. I'll give it blow for blow; kindness, good fortune, if it was to + happen—but it can't now—would soften me; but I know, I feel + that ill-treatment, crosses, disappointments, an' want of all hope in this + life, has made, an' will make me a devil—ay, an' oh! what a + different girl I might be this day!” + </p> + <p> + “What has vexed you?” asked the father “for I see that something has.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it a cruel thing,” she proceeded, without seeming to have attended + to him; “isn't it a cruel thing to think that every one you see about you + has some happiness except yourself; an' that your heart is burstin', an' + your brain burnin', an' no relief for you; no one point to turn to, for + consolation—but everything dark and dismal, and fiery about you?” + </p> + <p> + “I feel all this myself,” said the Prophet; “so, don't be disheartened, + Sarah; in the coorse o' time your heart will get so hardened that you'll + laugh at the world—ay, at all that's either bad or good in it, as I + do.” + </p> + <p> + “I never wish to come to that state,” she replied; “an' you never felt + what I feel—you never had that much of what was good in your heart. + No,” she proceeded, “sooner than come to that state—that is, to your + state—I'd put this knife into my heart. You, father, never loved one + of your own kind yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I?” he replied, while his eyes lightened into a glare like those + of a provoked tiger; “ay, I loved one of our kind—of your kind; + loved her—ay, an' was happy wid her—oh, how happy. Ah, Sarah + M'Gowan, an' I loved my fellow-creatures then, too, like a fool as I was: + loved, ay, loved; an' she that I so loved proved false to me—proved + an adulteress; an' I tell you now, that it may harden your heart against + the world, that that woman—my wife—that I so loved, an' that + so disgraced me, was your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie—it's as false as the devil himself,” she replied, + turning round quickly, and looking him with frantic vehemence of manner in + the face. “My mother never did what you say. She's now in her grave, an' + can't speak for or defend herself; but if I were to stand here till + judgment day, I'd say it was false. You were misled or mistaken, or your + own bad, suspicious nature made you do her wrong; an' even if it was thrue—which + it is not, but false as hell—why would you crash and wring her + daughter's heart by a knowledge of it? Couldn't you let me get through the + short but bitther passage of life that's before me, without addin' this to + the other thoughts that's distractin' me?” + </p> + <p> + “I did it, as I said,” he replied, “to make you harden your heart, an' to + prevent you from puttin' any trust in the world, or expectin' anything + either of thruth or goodness from it.” + </p> + <p> + She started, as if some new light had broken in upon her, and turning to + him, said— + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I undherstand you, father—I hope I do. Oh, could it be that + you wor wanst—a—a—a betther man—a man that had a + heart for fellow-creatures, and cared for them? I'm lookin' into my own + heart now, and I don't doubt but I might be brought to the same state yet. + Ha, that's terrible to think of; but again, I can't believe it. Father, + you can stoop to lies an' falsity—that I could not do; but no + matther; you wor wanst a good man, maybe. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet turned round, and fixing his eyes upon his daughter, they + stood each gazing upon the other for some time. He then looked for a + moment into the ground, after which he sat down upon a stool, and covering + his face with both his hands, remained in that position for two or three + minutes. + </p> + <p> + “Am I right, father?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes, and looking upon her with his usual composure, replied— + </p> + <p> + “No—you are wrong—you are very wrong. When I was a + light-hearted, affectionate boy, playing with my brothers and sisters, I + was a villain. When I grew into youth, Sarah, an' thought every one full + of honesty an' truth, an' the world all kindness, an' nothin' about me but + goodness, an' generosity, an' affection, I was, of coorse, a villain. When + I loved the risin' sun—when I looked upon the stars of heaven with a + wonderin' and happy heart—when the dawn of mornin' and the last + light of the summer evening filled me with joy, and made me love every one + and everything about me—the trees, the runnin' rivers, the green + fields, and all that God—ha, what am I sayin'?—I was a + villain. When I loved an' married your mother, an' when she—but no + matther—when all these things happened, I was, I say, a villain; but + now that things is changed for the betther, I am an honest man!” + </p> + <p> + “Father, there is good in you yet,” she said, as her eyes sparkled in the + very depth of her excitement, with a hopeful animation that had its source + in a noble and exalted benevolence, “you're not lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't I say,” he replied, with a cold and bitter sneer, “that I am an + honest man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she replied, “that's gone too, then—look where I will, + everything's dark—no hope—no hope of any kind; but no matther + now; since I can't do betther, I'll make them think o' me: aye, an' feel + me too. Come, then, what have you to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us have a walk, then,” replied her father. “There is a weeny glimpse + of sunshine, for a wondher. You look heated—your face is flushed + too, very much, an' the walk will cool you a little.” + </p> + <p> + “I know my face is flushed,” she replied; “for I feel it burnin', an' so + is my head; I have a pain in it, and a pain in the small o' my back too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come,” he continued, “and a walk will be of sarvice to you.” + </p> + <p> + They then went out in the direction of the Rabbit Bank, the Prophet, + during their walk, availing himself of her evident excitement to draw from + her the history of its origin. Such a task, indeed, was easily + accomplished, for this singular creature, in whom love of truth, as well + as a detestation of all falsehood and subterfuge, seemed to have been a + moral instinct, at once disclosed to him the state of her affections, and, + indeed, all that the reader already knows of her love for Dalton, and her + rivalry with Mave Sullivan. These circumstances were such precisely as he + could have wished for, and our readers need scarcely be told that he + failed not to aggravate her jealousy of Mave, nor to suggest to her the + necessity on her part, if she possessed either pride or spirit, to prevent + her union with Dalton by every means in her power. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it,” she replied, “I'll do it; to be sure I feel it's not right, + an' if I had one single hope in this world, I'd scorn it; but I'm now + desperate; I tried to be good, but I'm only a cobweb before the wind—everything + is against me, an' I think I'm like some one that never had a guardian + angel to take care of them.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet then gave her a detailed account of their plan for carrying + away Mave Sullivan, and of his own subsequent intentions in life. + </p> + <p> + “We have more than one iron in the fire,” he proceeded, “an' as soon as + everything comes off right, and to our wishes, we'll not lose a single + hour in going to America.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think,” said Sarah, “that Dalton ever murdered Sullivan till I + heard him confess it; but I can well understand it now. He was hasty, + father, and did it in a passion, but it's himself that has a good heart. + Father, don't blame me for what I say, but I'd rather be that pious, + affectionate ould man, wid his murdher on his head, than you in the state + you're in. An' that's thrue, I must turn back and go to them—I'm too + long away: still, something ails me—I'm all sickish, my head and + back especially.” + </p> + <p> + “Go home to your own place,” he replied; “maybe it's the sickness you're + takin.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she replied, “I felt this way once or twice before, an' I know + it'll go off me—good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Sarah, an' remember, honor bright and saicresy.” + </p> + <p> + “Saicresy, father, I grant you, but never honor bright for me again. It's + the world that makes me do it—the wicked, dark, cruel world, that + has me as I am, widout a livin' heart to love me—that's what makes + me do it.” + </p> + <p> + They then separated, he pursuing his way to Dick o' the Grange's, and she + to the miserable cabin of the Daltons. They had not gone far, however, + when she returned, and calling after him, said— + </p> + <p> + “I have thought it over again, and won't promise altogether till I see you + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you goin' back o' your word so soon!” he asked, with a kind of + sarcastic sneer. “I thought you never broke your word, Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and after looking about her as if in perplexity, she turned on + her heel, and proceeded in silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. — The Pedlar Runs a Close Risk of the Stocks. + </h2> + <p> + Nelly's suspicions, apparently well founded as they had been, were removed + from the Prophet, not so much by the disclosure to her and Sarah, of his + having been so long cognizant of Sullivan's murder by Dalton, as by that + unhappy man's own confession of the crime. Still, in spite of all that had + yet happened, she could not divest herself of an impression that something + dark and guilty was associated with the Tobacco-box; an impression which + was strengthened by her own recollections of certain incidents that + occurred upon a particular night, much about the time of Sullivan's + disappearance. Her memory, however, being better as to facts than to time, + was such as prevented her from determining whether the incidents alluded + to had occurred previous to Sullivan's murder, or afterwards. There + remained, however, just enough of suspicion to torment her own mind, + without enabling her to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion as to + Donnel's positive guilt, arising from the mysterious incidents in + question. A kind of awakened conscience, too, resulting not from any + principle of true repentance, but from superstitious alarm and a + conviction that the Prophet had communicated to Sarah a certain secret + connected with her, which she dreaded so much to have known, had for some + time past rendered her whole life a singular compound of weak terror, + ill-temper, gloom, and a kind of conditional repentance, which depended + altogether upon the fact of her secret being known. In this mood it was + that she left the cabin as we have described. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not fit to die,” she said to herself, after she had gone—“an' + that's the second offer for my life she has made. Any way, it's the best + of my play to lave them; an' above all, to keep away from her. That's the + second attempt; and I know to a certainty, that if she makes a third one, + it'll do for me. Oh, no doubt of that—the third time's always the + charm!—an' into my heart that unlucky knife 'ill go, if she ever + tries it a third time! They tell me,” she proceeded, soliloquizing, as she + was in the habit of doing, “that the inquest is to be held in a day or + two, an' that the crowner was only unwell a trifle, and hadn't the + sickness afther all. No matther—not all the wather in the sky 'ud + clear my mind that there's not villany joined with that Tobaccy-box, + though where it could go, or what could come of it (barrin' the devil + himself or the fairies tuck it,) I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + So far as concerned the coroner, the rumor of his having caught the + prevailing typhus was not founded on fact. A short indisposition, arising + from a cold caught by a severe wetting, but by no means of a serious or + alarming nature, was his only malady; and when the day to which the + inquest had been postponed had arrived, he was sufficiently recovered to + conduct that important investigation. A very large crowd was assembled + upon the occasion, and a deep interest prevailed throughout that part of + the country. The circumstances, however, did not, as it happened, admit of + any particular difficulty Jerry Sullivan and his friends attended as, was + their duty, in order to give evidence touching the identity of the body. + This, however, was a matter of peculiar difficulty. On disinterring the + remains, it was found that the clothes worn at the time of the murder had + not been buried with them—in other words, that the body had been + stripped of all but the under garment, previous to its interment. The + evidence, nevertheless, of the Black Prophet and of Red Rody was + conclusive. The truth, however, of most if not of all the details, but not + of the fact itself, was denied by old Dalton, who had sufficiently + recovered from his illness, to be present at the investigation. The + circumstances deposed to by the two witnesses were sufficiently strong and + home to establish the fact against him, although he impugned the details + as we have stated, but admitted that—after a hard battle with + weighty sticks, he did kill Sullivan with an unlucky blow, and left him + dead in a corner of the field for a short time near the Grey Stone. He + said that he did not bury the body, but that he carried it soon afterwards + from the field in which the unhappy crime had been committed, to the + roadside, where he laid it for a time, in order to procure assistance. He + said he then changed his mind, and having become afraid to communicate the + unhappy accident to any of the neighbors, he fled in great terror across + the adjoining mountains, where he wandered nearly frantic until the + approach of day-break the next morning. He then felt himself seized with + an uncontrollable anxiety to return to the scene of conflict, which he + did, and found, not much to his surprise indeed, that the body had been + removed, for he supposed at the time that Sullivan's friends must have + brought it home. This he declared was the truth, neither more nor less, + and he concluded by solemnly stating, that he knew no more than the child + unborn what had become of the body, or how it disappeared. He also + acknowledged that he was very much intoxicated at the time of the quarrel, + and that were it not for the shock he received by perceiving that the man + was dead, he thought he would not have had anything beyond a confused and + indistinct recollection of the circumstance at all. He admitted also that + he had threatened Sullivan in the market, and followed him closely for the + purpose of beating him, but maintained that the fatal blow was not given + with an intention of taking his life. + </p> + <p> + The fact, on the contrary, that the body had been privately buried and + stripped before interment, was corroborated by the circumstance of + Sullivan's body-coat having been found the next morning in a torn and + bloody state, together with his great coat and hat; but indeed, the + impression upon the minds of many was, that Dalton's version of the + circumstances was got up for the purpose of giving to what was looked upon + as a deliberate assassination, the character of simple homicide or + manslaughter, so as that he might escape the capital felony, and come off + triumphantly by a short imprisonment. The feeling against him too was + strengthened and exasperated by the impetuous resentment with which he + addressed himself to the Prophet and Rody Duncan, while giving their + evidence, for it was not unreasonable to suppose that the man, who at his + years, and in such awful circumstances, could threaten the lives of the + witnesses against him, as he did, would not hesitate to commit, in a fit + of that ungovernable passion that had made him remarkable through life, + the very crime with which he stood charged through a similar act of blind + and ferocious vengeance. Others, on the contrary held different opinions; + and thought that the old man's account of the matter was both simple and + natural, and bore the stamp of sincerity and truth upon the very face of + it. Jerry Sullivan only swore that, to the best of his opinion, the + skeleton found was much about the size of what his brother's would be; but + as the proof of his private interment by Dalton had been clearly + established by the evidence of the Prophet and Rody, constituting, as it + did, an unbroken chain of circumstances which nothing could resist, the + jury had no hesitation in returning the following verdict:— + </p> + <p> + “We find a verdict of wilful murder against Cornelius Dalton, Senior, for + that he, on or about the night of the fourteenth of December, in the year + of grace, 1798, did follow and waylay Bartholomew Sullivan, and deprive + him of his life by blows and violence, having threatened him to the same + effect in the early part of the aforesaid day.” + </p> + <p> + During the progress of the investigation, our friend the pedlar and + Charley Hanlon were anxious and deeply attentive spectators. The former + never kept his eyes off the Prophet, but surveyed him with a face in which + it was difficult to say whether the expression was one of calm conviction + or astonishment. When the investigation had come to a close, he drew + Hanlon aside and said— + </p> + <p> + “That swearin', Charley, was too clear, and if I was on the jury myself I + would find the same verdict. May the Lord support the poor old man in the + mane time! for in spite of all that happened one can't help pity'n' him, + or at any rate his unfortunate family. However see what comes by not + havin' a curb over one's passions when the blood's up.” + </p> + <p> + “God's a just God,” replied Hanlon—“the murderer deserves his + punishment, an' I hope will meet it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is little doubt of it,” said the pedlar, “the hand of God is in it + all.” + </p> + <p> + “That's more than I see, or can at the present time, then,” replied + Hanlon. “Why should my aunt stay away so long?—but I dare say the + truth is, she is either sick or dead, an' if that's the case, what's all + you have said or done worth? You see it's but a chance still.” + </p> + <p> + “Trust in God,” replied the pedlar, “that's all either of us can do or say + now. There's the coffin. I'm tould they're goin' to bury him, and to have + the greatest funeral that ever was in the counthry; but, God knows, + there's funerals enough in the neighborhood widout their making a show of + themselves wid this.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no truth in that report either,” said Hanlon. “I was speakin' to + Jerry Sullivan this mornin', an' I have it from him that they intend to + bury him as quietly as they can. He's much changed from what he was—Jerry + is—an' doesn't wish to have the old man hanged at all, if he can + prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hanged or not, Charley, I must go on with my petition to Dick o' the + Grange. Of course I have no chance, but maybe the Lord put something good + into Travers's heart, when he bid me bring it to him; at any rate it can + do no harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor any earthly good,” replied the other. “The farm is this minute the + property of Darby Skinadre, an' to my knowledge Master Dick has a good + hundred pounds in his pocket for befriendin' the meal-monger.” + </p> + <p> + “Still an' all, Charley, I'll go to the father, if it was only bekaise the + agent wishes it; I promised I would, an' who knows at any rate but he may + do something for the poor Daltons himself, when he finds that the villain + that robbed and ruined them won't.” + </p> + <p> + “So far you may be right,” said Hanlon, “an' as you say, if it does no + good it can do no harm; but for my part, I can scarcely think of anything + but my poor aunt. What, in God's name, except sickness or death, can keep + her away, I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Put your trust in God, man—that's my advice to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And a good one it is,” replied the other, “if we could only follow it up + as we ought. Every one here wondhers at the change that's come over me—I + that was so light and airy, and so fond of every divarsion that was to be + had, am now as grave as a parson; but indeed no wondher, for ever since + that awful night at the Grey Stone—since both nights indeed—I'm + not the same man, an' feel as if there was a weight come over me that + nothing will remove, unless we trace the murdher, an' I hardly know what + to say about it, now that my aunt isn't forthcommin'” + </p> + <p> + “Trust in God, I tell you, for as you live, truth will come to light yet.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation took various changes as they proceeded, until they + reached the Grange, where the first person they met was Jemmy Branigan, + who addressed his old enemy, the pedlar, in that peculiarly dry and + ironical tone which he was often in the habit of using when he wished to + disguise a friendly act in an ungracious garb—a method of granting + favors, by the way, to which he was proverbially addicted. In fact, a + surly answer from Jemmy was as frequently indicative of his intention to + serve you with his master as it was otherwise; but so adroitly did he + disguise his sentiments, that no earthly penetration could develop them + until proved by the result. Jemmy, besides, liked the pedlar at heart for + his open, honest scurrility—a quality which he latterly found + extremely beneficial to himself, inasmuch as now that, increasing + infirmity had incapacitated his master from delivering much of the + alternate abuse that took place between them, he experienced great relief + every moment from a fresh breathing with his rather eccentric opponent. + </p> + <p> + “Jemmy,” said Hanlon, “is the master in the office?” + </p> + <p> + “Is he in the office?—Who wants him?” and as he put the query he + accompanied it by a look of ineffable contempt at the pedlar. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend, the pedlar, wants him; and so now,” added Hanlon, “I leave + you both to fight it out between you.” + </p> + <p> + “You're comin' wid your petition, an' a purty object you are, goin' to + look afther a farm for a man that'll be hanged, (may God forbid—this + day, amin!” he exclaimed in an under-tone which the other could not hear): + “an' what can you expect but to get kicked out or put in' the stocks for + attemptin' to take a farm over another man's head.” + </p> + <p> + “What other man's head?—nobody has it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, has there—a very daicent respectable man has it, by name one + Darby Skinadre. (May he never warm his hungry nose in the same farm, the + miserable keowt that he is this day,” he added in another soliloquy, which + escaped the pedlar): “a very honest man is Darby Skinadre, so you may save + yourself the trouble, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate there's no harm in tryin'—worse than fail we can't, an' + if we succeed it'll be good to come in for anything from the ould + scoundrel, before the devil gets him.” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy gave him a look. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what have you to say against the ould boy? Sure it's not casting + reflections on your own masther you'd be.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not at all,” replied the pedlar, “especially when I'm expectin' a + favor from one of his sarvints. Throth he'll soon by all accounts have his + hook in the ould Clip o' the! Grange—an' afther that some of his + friends will soon folly him. I wouldn't be mainin' one Jemmy Branigan. Oh, + dear no—but it's a sure case that's the Black Boy's intention to + take the whole family by instalments, an' wid respect to the sarvints to + place them in their ould situations. Faith you'll have a warm berth of it, + Jemmy, an' well you desarve it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why then you circulating vagabone,” replied Jemmy; “if you wern't a close + friend to him, you'd not know his intentions so well. Don't let out on + yourself, man alive, unless you have the face to be proud of your + acquaintance, which in throth is more than anyone, barrin' the same set, + could be of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” retorted the pedlar, “sure blood alive, as we're all of the + same connection, let us not quarrel now, but sarve another if we can. Go + an' tell the old blackguard I want to see him about business.” + </p> + <p> + “Will I tell him you're itchy about the houghs?—eh? However, the + thruth is, that they,”—and he pointed to the stocks—“might be + justice, but no novelty to you. The iron gathers is an ornament you often + wore, an' will again, plase goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, and. your ornament is one you'll never wear a second time—the + hemp collar will grace your neck yet; but never mind, you're leadin' the + life to desarve it. See now if I can spake a word wid your masther for a + poor family.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, to avoid your tongue, I may as well tell you that himself, + Masther Richard, and Darby Skinadre's in the office; an' if you can use + the same blackguard tongue as well in a good cause as you can in a bad + one, it would be well for the poor crayturs. Go in now, an',” he added in + another soliloquy, “may the Lord prosper his virtuous endayvors, the + vagabone; although all hope o' that's past, I doubt; for hasn't Skinadre + the promise, and Masther Richard the bribe? However, who can tell?—-so + God prosper the vagabone, I say again.” + </p> + <p> + The pedlar, on entering, found old Henderson sitting in an arm-chair, with + one of his legs, as usual, bandaged and stretched out before him on + another chair. He seemed much worn and debilitated, and altogether had the + appearance of a man whose life was not worth a single week's purchase. + Skinadre was about taking leave of his patron, the son, who had been + speaking to him as the pedlar entered. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be unaisy, Darby,” he said. “We can't give you a lease for about a + week or fortnight; but the agent is now here, an' we must first take out + new leases ourselves. As soon as we do you shall have yours.” + </p> + <p> + “If you only knew, your honor, the scrapin' I had in these hard times, to + get together that hundhre—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush—there,” said the other, clapping his hand, with an air of + ridicule and contempt upon the miser's mouth; “that will do now; be off, + and depend upon——mum, you understand mo! Ha, ha, ha!—that's + not a bad move, father,” he added; “however, I think we must give him the + farm.” + </p> + <p> + The pedlar had been standing in the middle of the floor, when young Dick, + turning round suddenly, asked him with a frown, occasioned by the fact of + his having overheard this short dialogue, what he wanted. + </p> + <p> + “God save you honors, gintlemen,” said the pedlar, in a loud + straightforward voice. “I'm glad to see your honor looking so well,” he + added, turning to the father; “it's fresh an' young your gettin', sir!—glory + be to God!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this fellow, Dick? Do you think I look better, my man?” + </p> + <p> + “Says Jemmy Branigan to me afore I came in,” proceeded the pedlar,—“he's + a thrue friend o' mine, your honor, Jemmy is, an' 'ud go to the well o' + the world's end to sarve me—says he, you'll be delighted, Harry, to + see the masther look so fresh an' well.” + </p> + <p> + “And the cursed old hypocrite is just after telling me, Dick, to prepare + for a long journey; adding, for my consolation, that it won't be a + troublesome one, as it will be all down hill.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the son, “he has given you that information for the ten + thousandth time, to my own knowledge. What does this man want? What's your + business, my good fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Beggin' your pardon, sir,” replied the pedlar, “will you allow me to ask + you one question; were you ever in the forty-seventh foot? Oh, bedad, it + must be him to a sartinty,” he added, as if to himself. “No,” replied + Dick; “why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, your honor,” said the pedlar, smiling roguishly;—“take + care now, your honor, if it wasn't you—” + </p> + <p> + “What are you speaking about—what do you mean?” asked the young man. + </p> + <p> + The pedlar went over to him, and said, in a low voice, looking cautiously + at the father, as if he didn't wish that he should hear him— + </p> + <p> + “It was surely your honor took away Lord Handicap's daughter when you wor + an ensign—the handsome ensign, as they called you in the + forty-seventh? Eh? faix I knew you the minute I looked at you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha! Do you know what, father? He says I'm the handsome ensign of + the forty-seventh, that took away Lord Handicap's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “The greatest beauty in all England,” added the pedlar; “an' I knew him at + wanst, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dick, that's a compliment, at any rate,” replied the father. + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever in the forty-seventh?” asked the son, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” returned the pedlar, with a knowing wink, “behave yourself, + captain; I'm not so soft as all that comes to; but sure as I have a favor + to ax from his honor, your father, I'm glad to have your assistance. Faix, + by all accounts you pleaded your own cause well, at any rate; and I hope + you'll give me a lift now wid his honor here.” + </p> + <p> + Dick the younger laughed heartily, but really had not ready virtue + sufficient about, to disclaim the pedlar's compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Come, then,” he added; “let us hear what your favor is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thin, thank you, an' God bless you, captain. It's this: only to know + if you'd be good enough to grant a new lease of Cargah Farm to young Condy + Dalton; for the ould man, by all accounts, is not long for this world.” + </p> + <p> + Both turned their eyes upon him with a look of singular astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you at all, my good fellow?” asked the father; “or what devil + drove you here on such an impudent message? A lease to the son of that + ould murderer and his crew of beggars! That's good, Dick! Well done, + soger! will you back him in that, captain? Ha, ha, ha! D—n me, if I + ever heard the like of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will back me, captain,” said the pedlar. + </p> + <p> + “Upon what grounds, comrade? Ha, ha, ha! Go on! Let us hear you!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, your honor, bekaise he's best entitled to it. Think of what it was + when he got it, an' think of what it is now, and then ax yourselves—'Who + raised it in value an' made it worth twiste what it was worth?' Wasn't it + the Daltons? Didn't they lay out near eight hundre pounds upon it? An, + didn't you, at every renewal, screw them up—beggin' your pardon, + gintlemen—until they found that the more they improved it the poorer + they were gettin'? An' now that it lies there worth double its value, an' + they that made it so (to put money into your pocket) beggars—within + a few hundred yards of it—wouldn't it be rather hard to let them die + an' starve in destitution, an' them wishin' to get it back at a raisonable + rint?” + </p> + <p> + “In this country, brother soldier,” replied Dick ironically, “we generally + starve first and die afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “You may well say so, your honor, an' God knows, there's not upon the face + of the arth a counthry where starvation is so much practised, or so well + understood. Faith, unfortunately, it's the national divarsion wid us. + However, is what I'm sayin' raisonable, gintlemen?” + </p> + <p> + “Exceedingly so,” said Dick; “go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I wish to know, will you give them a new lease of their + farm?” + </p> + <p> + “You do! do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth I do, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied the son, “I beg to inform you that we will not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply, you knave,” exclaimed the father, in a passion, “because we don't + wish it. Kick him out, Dick!” + </p> + <p> + “My good friend and brother soldier,” said Dick, “the fact is, that we are + about to introduce a new system altogether upon our property. We are + determined to manage it upon a perfectly new principle. It has been too + much sublet under us, and we have resolved to rectify this evil. That is + our answer. You get no lease. Provide for yourself and your friends, the + Daltons, as best you can, but on this property you get no lease. That is + your answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Begone, now, you scoundrel,” said the father, “and not a word more out of + your head.” + </p> + <p> + “Gintlemen!—gintlemen!”—exclaimed the pedlar, “have you no + consciences? Is there no justice in the world? The misery, and sorrow, and + sufferin's of this misfortunate family, will be upon you, I doubt, if you + don't do them justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Touch the bell, Dick! Here some one! Jemmy Branigan! Harry Lowry! Jack + Clinton! Where are you all, you scoundrels? Here, put this rascal in the + stocks immediately! in with him!” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy, who, from an adjoining room, had been listening to every word that + passed, now entered. + </p> + <p> + “Here, you, sir: clap this vagabond in the stocks for his insolence. He + has come here purposely to insult myself and my son. To the stocks with + him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” replied Jemmy; “the devil resave the stock will go on him this day. + Didn't I hear every word that passed? An' what did he say but the thruth, + an' what every one knows to be the thruth?” + </p> + <p> + “Put him in the stocks, I desire you, this instant!” + </p> + <p> + “Throth if you wor to look at your mug in the glass, you'd feel that + you'll soon be in a worse stocks yourself than ever you put any poor + craythur into,” replied the redoubtable Jemmy. “Do you be off about your + business, in the mane time, you good-natured vagabone, or this ould + fire-brand will get some one wid less conscience than I have, that'll clap + you in them.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, father,” observed the son; “let the fellow go about his + business—he's not worth your resentment.” + </p> + <p> + The pedlar took the hint and withdrew, accompanied by Jemmy, on whose face + there was a grin of triumph that he could not conceal. + </p> + <p> + “I tould you,” he added, as they went down the steps, “that the same + stocks was afore you; an' in the mane time, God pardon me for the + injustice I did in keepin' you out o' them.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” replied the other; “devila harsh word ever I'll say to you + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth will you,” said Jemmy; “an' both of us will be as fresh as a daisy + in the mornin', plaise goodness. I have scarcely any one to abuse me, or + to abuse, either, now that the ould masther is so feeble.” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy extended his hand as he spoke, and gave the pedlar a squeeze, the + cordiality of which was strongly at variance with the abuse he had given + him. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you!” said the pedlar, returning the pressure; “your bark is + worse than your bite. I'm off now, to mention the reception they gave me + and the answers I got, to a man that will, maybe, bring themselves to + their marrow-bones afore long.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but don't abuse them, for all that,” replied Jemmy, “for I won't bear + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth,” returned the other, “you're a quare Jemmy—an' so God bless + you!” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered these words, in an amicable and grateful spirit, our friend + the pedlar bent his steps to the head inn of the next town—being + that of the assizes, where Mr. Travers, the agent, kept his office. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. — Sarah Ill—Mave Again, Heroic. + </h2> + <p> + Young Henderson, whose passion for Mave Sullivan was neither virtuous nor + honorable, would not have lent himself, notwithstanding, to the + unprincipled projects of the Prophet, had not that worthy personage + gradually and dishonestly drawn him into a false position. In other words, + he led the vain and credulous young man to believe that Mave had been + seized with a secret affection for him, and was willing, provided + everything was properly managed, to consent to an elopement. For this + purpose, it was necessary that the plan should be executed without + violence, as the Prophet well knew, because, on sounding young Dick upon + that subject, in an early stage of the business, he had ascertained that + the proposal of anything bordering upon outrage or force, would instantly + cause him to withdraw from the project altogether. For this reason, then, + he found it necessary, if possible to embark Sarah as an accomplice, + otherwise, he could not effect his design without violence, and he felt + that her co-operation was required to sustain the falsehood of his + assertions to Henderson with regard to Mave's consent to: place herself + under his protection. This was to be brought about so as to hoodwink + Henderson, in the following manner: The Prophet proposed that Sarah + should, by his own or her ingenuity, contrive to domicile herself in Jerry + Sullivan's house for a few days previous to the execution of their design; + not only for the purpose of using her influence, such as it was, to sway + the young creature's mind and principles from the path of rectitude and + virtue, by dwelling upon the luxury and grandeur of her future life with + Henderson, whose intentions were to be represented as honorable, but, if + necessary, to leave a free ingress to the house, so as that under any + circumstances, and even with a little violence, Mave should be placed in + Henderson's hands. Should the Prophet, by his management, effect this, he + was to receive a certain sum of money from his employer the moment he or + his party had her in their possession—for such were the terms of the + agreement—otherwise Donnel Dhu reserved to himself the alternative + of disclosing the matter to her friends, and acquainting them with her + situation. This, at all events, was readily consented to by Henderson, + whose natural vanity and extraordinary opinion of his own merits in the + eyes of the sex, prevented him from apprehending any want of success with + Mave, provided he had an opportunity of bringing the influence of his + person, and his wonderful powers of persuasion, to bear upon such a simple + country girl as he considered her to be. So far, then, he had taken + certain steps to secure himself, whilst he left Henderson to run the risk + of such contingencies as might in all probability arise from the + transaction. + </p> + <p> + This, however, was but an under-plot of the Prophet, whose object was + indeed far beyond that of becoming the paltry instrument of a rusty + intrigue. It was a custom with Dick o' the Grange, for a few years + previous to the date of our story, to sleep during the assizes, in the + head inn of the town, attended by Jemmy Branigan. This was rendered in + some degree necessary, by the condition of his bad leg, and his + extraordinary devotion to convivial indulgence—a propensity to which + he gave full stretch during the social license of the grand jury dinners. + Now, the general opinion was, that Henderson always kept large sums of + money in the house—an opinion which we believe to have been correct, + and which seemed to have been confirmed by the fact, that on no occasion + were both father and son ever known to sleep out of the house at the same + time, to which we may also add another—viz., that the whole family + were well provided with fire arms, which were freshly primed and loaded + every night. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, therefore, had so contrived it, that young Dick's design upon + Mave Sullivan, or in other words, the Prophet's own design upon the money + coffers of the Grange, should render his absence from home necessary + whilst his father was swilling at the assizes, by which arrangement, added + to others that will soon appear, the house must, to a certain degree, be + left unprotected, or altogether under the care of dissolute servants, + whose habits, caught from those of the establishment, were remarkable for + dissipation and neglect. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, indeed, was naturally a plotter. It is not likely, however, + that he would ever have thought of projecting the robbery of the Grange, + had he not found himself, as he imagined, foiled in his designs upon Mave + Sullivan, by the instinctive honor and love of truth which shone so + brilliantly in the neglected character of his extraordinary daughter. + Having first entrapped her into a promise of secrecy—a promise which + he knew death itself would scarcely induce her to violate, he disclosed to + her the whole plan in the most plausible and mitigated language. Effort + after effort was made to work upon her principles, but in vain. Once or + twice, it is true, she entertained the matter for a time—but a + momentary deliberation soon raised her naturally noble and generous spirit + above the turpitude of so vile a project. + </p> + <p> + It was, then, in this state of things that the failure of the one, and the + lesser plan, through the incorruptible honor of his daughter, drove him + upon the larger and more tempting one of the burglary. In this latter, he + took unto himself as his principal accomplice, Red Rody Duncan, whose + anxiety to procure the driver's situation arose from the necessity that + existed, to have a friend in the house, who might aid them in effecting a + quiet entrance, and by unloading or wetting the fire-arms, neutralize the + resistance which they might otherwise expect. + </p> + <p> + Sarah's excitement and distraction, however, resulting from her last + interview with young Dalton, giving as it did, a fatal blow to her passion + and her hopes, vehement and extraordinary as they were, threw her across + her father's path at the precise moment when her great but unregulated + spirit, inflamed by jealousy and reckless from despair, rendered her most + accessible to the wily and aggravating arguments with which he tempted and + overcame her. Thus did he, so far as human means could devise, or + foresight calculate, provide for the completion of two plots instead of + one. + </p> + <p> + It is true, Mave Sullivan was not left altogether without being + forewarned. Nobody, however, had made her acquainted with the peculiar + nature of the danger that was before her. Nelly M'Gowan, as she was + called, had strongly cautioned her against both Donnel and Sarah, but then + Nelly herself was completely in the dark as to the character of the injury + against which she warned her, so that her friendly precautions were + founded more upon the general and unscrupulous profligacy of Donnel's + principles, and his daughter's violence, than upon any particular + knowledge she possessed of her intentions towards her. Mave's own serene + and innocent disposition was such in fact as to render her not easily + impressed by suspicion; and our readers may have perceived, by the + interview which took place between her and Sarah, that from the latter, + she apprehended no injury. + </p> + <p> + It was on the following day after that interview, about two o'clock, that + while she was spreading some clothes upon the garden hedge, during a + sickly gleam of sunshine, our friend the pedlar made his appearance, and + entered her father's house. Mave having laid her washing before the sun, + went in and found him busily engaged in showing his wares, which consisted + principally of cutlery and trinkets. The pedlar, as she entered, threw a + hasty glance at her, perceived that she shook down her luxuriant hair, + which had been disarranged by a branch of thorn that was caught in it + while stretching over the hedge. She at once recognized him, and blushed + deeply; but he seemed altogether to have forgotten her. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he exclaimed, “well, that I may be blest, but it's many a long day + since I seen such a head o' hair as that! Holy St. Countryman, but it's a + beauty. Musha, a <i>Ora Gal</i>, maybe you'll dispose of it, for, in + troth, if ever a face livin' could afford to part with its best ornament, + your's is that one.” + </p> + <p> + Mave smiled and blushed at the compliment, and the pedlar eyed her + apparently with a mixed feeling of admiration and compassion. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “I haven't any desire to part with it.” + </p> + <p> + “You had the sickness, maybe?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks be to the mercy of God,” she fervently exclaimed, “no one in this + family has had it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, achora,” he continued, “if you take my advice you'll dispose of it, + in regard that if the sickness—which may God prevent—should + come, it will be well for you to have it off you. If you sell it, I'll + give you either money or value for it; for indeed, an' truth it flogs all + I've seen this many a day.” + </p> + <p> + “They say,” observed her mother, “that it's not lucky to sell one's hair, + and whether it's true or not I don't know; but I'm tould for a sartinty, + that there's not a girl that ever sould it but was sure to catch the + sickness.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that there's truth in that,” said Jerry himself. “There's Sally + Hacket, and Mary Geoghegan, and Katy Dowdall, all sould it, and not one of + them escaped the sickness. And, moreover, didn't I hear Misther Cooper, + the bleedin' doctor, say, myself, in the market, on Sathurday, that the + people couldn't do a worse thing than cut their hair close, as it lets the + sickness in by the head, and makes it tin times as hard upon them, when it + comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, there's no arguin' wid you,” said the pedlar, “all I say is, + that you ought to part wid it, acushla—by all means you ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind him, Mave darlin',” said her mother, whose motive in saying so + was altogether dictated by affectionate apprehensions for her health. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied her daughter, “it is not my intention, mother, to part with + what God has given me. I have no notion of it.” + </p> + <p> + At this stage of the dialogue, her eldest brother, who had been getting a + horse shod at the next forge, entered the house, and threw himself + carelessly on a chair. His appearance occasioned a alight pause in the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Denny,” said the father, “what's the news?” + </p> + <p> + “Bad news with the Daltons,” replied the boy. + </p> + <p> + “With the Daltons!” exclaimed Mave, trembling, and getting paler, if + possible, than she was; “for God's mercy, Dennis, what has happened + amongst them?” + </p> + <p> + “I met Mrs. Dalton a while ago,” he replied, “and she tould me that they + had no one now to take care of them. Sarah M'Gowan, the Black Prophet's + daughter, has catched the sickness, and is lyin' in a shed there beyant, + that a poor thravellin' family was in about a week ago. Mrs. Dalton says + her own family isn't worse wid the sickness, but betther, she thinks; but + she was cryin', the daicent craythur, and she says they'll die wid neglect + and starvation, for she must be out, and there's no one to attend to them, + and they have nothing but the black wather, God help them!” + </p> + <p> + While he spoke, Mave's eyes were fastened upon him, as if the sentence of + her own life or death was about to issue from his lip. Gradually, however, + she breathed more freely; a pale red tinged her cheek for a moment, after + which, a greater paleness settled upon it again. + </p> + <p> + The pedlar shook his head. “Ah,” he exclaimed, “they are hard times, sure + enough; may the Lord bring us all safe through them! Well, I see I'm not + likely to make my fortune among you,” he added, smiling, “so I must tramp + on, but any way, I must thank you for house-room and your civility.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd offer something to ait,” said Mrs. Sullivan, with evident pain, “but + the truth is—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a morsel,” replied the other, “if the house was overflown.'. God + bless you all—God bless you.” + </p> + <p> + Mave, almost immediately after her brother had concluded, passed to + another room, and returned just as the old pedlar had gone out. She + instantly followed him with a hasty step; while he, on hearing her foot, + turned round. + </p> + <p> + “You told me that you admired my hair,” she said, on coming up to him. + “Now, supposin' I'm willin' to sell it to you, what ought I to get for + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed by what they say inside,” replied the pedlar; “any + regular doctor would tell that, in these times, it's safer to part wid it—that + I may be happy but I'm tellin' you thruth. What is it worth? What are you + axin?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; but for God's sake cut it off, and give me the most you can + afford for it. Oh! believe me, it's not on account of the mere value of + it, but the money may save lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, achora, what do you intend doin' wid the money, if it's a fair + question to ax?” + </p> + <p> + “It's not a fair question for a stranger—it's enough for me to tell + you that I'll do nothing with it without my father and mother's knowledge. + Here, Denny,” she said, addressing her brother, who was on his way to the + stable, “slip a stool through the windy, an' stay wid me in the barn—I + want to send you of a message in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + It is only necessary to say that the compensation was a more liberal one + than Mave had at all expected, and the pedlar disencumbered her of as rich + and abundant a mass of hair as ever ornamented a female head. This he did, + however, in such a way as to render the absence of it as little + perceptible as might be; the side locks he did not disturb, and Mave, when + she put on a clean night cap, looked as if she had not undergone any such + operation. + </p> + <p> + As the pedlar was going away, he called her aside, so as that her brother + might not hear. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see me afore?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” she replied, blushing. “Well, achora,” he proceeded, “if ever you + happen to be hard set, either for yourself or your friends, send for me, + in Widow Hanlon's house at the Grange, an' maybe I may befriend either you + or them; that is, as far as I can—which, dear knows, is not far; + but, still an' all, send. I'm known as the <i>Cannie Sugah</i>, or Merry + Pedlar, an' that'll do. God mark you, <i>ahagur!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Her brother's intelligence respecting the situation of the Daltons, as + well as of Sarah M'Gowan, saved Mave a long explanation to her parents for + the act of having parted with her hair. + </p> + <p> + “We are able to live—barely able to live,” she exclaimed; “an' + thanks be to God we have our health; but the Daltons—oh! they'll + never get through what they're sufferin'; an' that girl—oh! mother, + sich a girl as that is—how little does the world know of the heart + that beautiful craythur has. May the mercy of God rest upon her! This + money is for the poor Daltons an' her; we can do without it—an', + mother dear, my hair will grow again. Oh! father dear, think of it—lyin' + in a could shed by the road-side, an' no one to help or assist her—to + hand her a drink—to ease her on her hard bed—bed!—no on + the cold earth I suppose! Oh! think if I was in that desolate state. May + God support me, but she's the first I'll see; an' while I have life an' + strength, she musn't want attendance; an' thank God her shed's on my way + to the Daltons!” + </p> + <p> + She then hastily sent her brother into Ballynafail for such comforts as + she deemed necessary for both parties; and in the mean time, putting a + bonnet over her clean nightcap, she proceeded to the shed in which Sarah + M'Gowan lay. + </p> + <p> + On looking at it ere she entered, she could not help shuddering. It was + such a place as the poorest pauper in the poorest cabin would not + willingly place an animal in for shelter. It simply consisted of a few + sticks laid up against the side of a ditch; over these sticks were thrown + a few scraws—that is, the sward of the earth cut thin; in the inside + was the remnant of some loose straw, the greater part having been taken + away either for bedding or firing. + </p> + <p> + When Mave entered, she started at the singular appearance of Sarah. From + the first moment her person had been known to her until the present, she + had never seen her look half so beautiful. She literally lay stretched + upon a little straw, with no other pillow than a sod of earth under that + rich and glowing cheek, while her raven hair had fallen down, and added to + the milk-white purity of her shining neck and bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Father of Mercy!” exclaimed Mave, mentally, “how will she live—how + can she live here? An' what will become of her? Is she to die in this + miserable way in a Christian land?” + </p> + <p> + Sarah lay groaning with pain, and starting from time to time with the + pangs of its feverish inflictions. Mave spoke not when she entered the + shed, being ignorant whether Sarah was asleep or awake; but a very few + moments soon satisfied her that the unhappy and deserted girl was under + the influence of delirium. + </p> + <p> + “I won't break my promise, father, but I'll break my heart; an' I can't + even give her warnin'. Ah! but it's threacherous—an' I hate that. + No, no—I'll have no hand in it—manage it your own way—it's + threacherous. She has crossed my happiness,you say—ay, an' there + you're right—so she has—only for her I might—amn't I as + handsome, you say, an' as well shaped—haven't I as white a skin?—as + beautiful hair, an' as good eyes?—people say betther—an' if I + have, wouldn't he come to love me in time?—only for her—or if + there wasn't that bar put between us. You're right, you're right. She's + the cause of all my sufferin' an' sorrow. She is—I agree—I + agree—down with her—out o' my way with her—I hate the + thoughts of her—an' I'll join it—for mark me, father, wicked I + may be, but more miserable I can't—so I'll join you in it. What need + I care now?” + </p> + <p> + Mave felt her heart sink, and her whole being disturbed with a heavy sense + of terror, as Sarah uttered the incoherent rhapsody which we have just + repeated. The vague, but strongly expressed warnings which she had + previously heard from Nelly, and the earnest admonitions which that person + had given her to beware of evil designs on the part of Donnel Dhu and his + daughter, now rushed upon her mind; and she stood looking upon the + desolate girl with feelings that it is difficult to describe. She also + remembered that Sarah herself had told her in their very last interview, + that she had other thoughts, and worse thoughts than the fair battle of + rivalry between them would justify; and it was only now, too, that the + unconscious allusion to the Prophet struck her with full force. + </p> + <p> + Her sweet and gentle magnanimity, however, rose over every other + consideration but the frightfully desolate state of her unhappy rival. + Even in this case, also, her own fears of contagion yielded to the + benevolent sense of duty by which she was actuated. + </p> + <p> + “Come what will,” she said to her own heart; “we ought to return good for + evil; an' there's no use in knowing what is right, unless we strive to put + it in practice. At any rate, poor girl—poor, generous Sarah, I'm + afeard that you're never likely to do harm to me, or any one else, in this + world. May God, in his mercy, pity and relieve you—and restore you + wanst more to health!” + </p> + <p> + Mave, unconsciously, repeated the last words aloud; and Sarah, who had + been lying with her back to the unprotected opening of the shed, having + had a slight mitigation, and but a slight one, of the paroxysm under which + she had uttered the previous incoherencies, now turned round, and fixing + her eyes upon Mave, kept sharply, but steadily, gazing at her for some + time. It was quite evident, however, that consciousness had not returned, + for after she had surveyed Mave for a minute or two, she proceeded— + </p> + <p> + “The devil was there a while ago, but I wasn't afeard of him, because I + knew that God was stronger than him; and then there came an angel—another + angel, not you—and put him away; but it wasn't my guardian angel for + I never had a guardian angel—oh, never, never—no, nor any one + to take care o' me, or make me love them.” + </p> + <p> + She uttered the last words in a tone of such deep and distressing sorrow, + that Mave's eyes filled with tears, and she replied— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sarah, let me be your guardian angel; I will do what I can for you; + do you not know me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't; arn't you one o' the angels that come about me?—the + place is full o' them.” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy girl—or maybe happy girl,” exclaimed Mave, with a fresh + gush of tears, “who knows but the Almighty has your cold and deserted—bed + I can't call it—surrounded with beings that may comfort you, an' + take care that no evil thing will harm you. Oh no, dear Sarah, I am far + from that—I'm a wake, sinful mortal.” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise they're about me continually an'—let me see—who are + you? I know you. One o' them said a while ago, 'May God relieve you and + restore you wanst more to health;' I heard the voice.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sarah, don't you know me?” reiterated Mave; “look at me—don't + you know Mave Sullivan—your friend, Mave Sullivan, that knows your + value and loves you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” she asked, starting a little; “who—what name is that?—who + is it?—say it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know Mave Sullivan, that loves you, an' feels for your + miserable situation, my dear Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + “I never had a guardian angel, nor any one to take care o' me—nor a + mother, many a time—often—often the whole world—jist to + look at her face—an' to know—feel—love me. Oh, a dhrink, + a dhrink—is there no one to get me a dhrink! I'm burnin', I'm + burnin'—is there no one to get me a dhrink! Mave Sullivan, Mave + Sullivan, have pity on me! I heard some one name her—I heard her + voice—I'll die without a dhrink.” + </p> + <p> + Mave looked about the desolate shed, and to her delight spied a tin + porringer, which Sarah's unhappy predecessors had left behind them; + seizing this, she flew to a little stream that ran by the place, and + filling the vessel, returned and placed it to Sarah's lips. She drank it + eagerly, and looking piteously and painfully up into Mave's face, she laid + back her head, and appeared to breathe more freely. Mave hoped that the + drink of cold water would have cooled her fever and assuaged her thirst, + so as to have brought her to a rational state—such a state as would + have enabled the poor girl to give some account of the extraordinary + situation in which she found herself, and of the circumstances which + occasioned her to take shelter in such a place. In this, however, she was + disappointed. Sarah having drank the cold water, once more shut her eyes, + and fell into that broken and oppressive slumber which characterizes the + terrible malady which had stricken her down. For some time she waited with + this benign expectation, but seeing there was no likelihood of her + restoration, to consciousness, she again filled the tin vessel, and + placing it upon a stone by her bedside, composed the poor girl's dress + about her, and turned her steps toward a scene in which she expected to + find equal misery. + </p> + <p> + It is not our intention, however, to dwell upon it. It is sufficient to + say, that she found the Daltons—who, by the way, had a pretty long + visit from the pedlar—as her brother had said, beginning to recover, + and so far this was consolatory; but there was not within the walls of the + house, earthly comfort, or food or nourishment of any kind. Poor Mary was + literally gasping for want of sustenance, and a few hours more might have + been fatal to them all. There was no fire—no gruel, milk or anything + that could in the slightest possible degree afford them relief. Her + brother Denny, however, who had been desired by her to fetch his purchases + directly to their cabin, soon returned, and almost at a moment that might + be called the crisis, not of their malady, for that had passed, but of + their fate itself, his voice was heard, shouting from a distance that he + had discharged his commission; for we may observe that no possible + inducement could tempt him to enter that or any other house where fever + was at work. Mave lost little time in administering to their wants and + their weaknesses. With busy and affectionate hands she did all that could + be done for them at that particular juncture. She prepared food for Mary, + made whey and gruel, and left as much of her little purse as she thought + could be spared from the wants of Sarah M'Gowan. + </p> + <p> + In the course of two or three days afterwards, however, Sarah's situation + was very much changed for the better; but until that change was effected, + Mave devoted as much time to the poor girl as she could possibly spare. + Nor was the force of her example without its beneficial effects in the + neighborhood, especially as regarded Sarah herself. The courage she + displayed, despite her constitutional timidity, communicated similar + courage to others, in consequence of which Sarah was scarcely ever without + some one in her bleak shed to watch and take care of her. Her father, + however, on hearing of her situation, availed himself of what some of the + neighbors considered a mitigation of her symptoms, and with as much care + and caution as possible, she was conveyed home on a kind of litter, and + nurse-tended by an old woman from the next village, Nelly having + disappeared from the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + The attendance of this old woman, by the way, surprised the Prophet + exceedingly. He had not engaged her to attend on Sarah, nor could he + ascertain who had. Upon this subject she was perfectly inscrutable. All he + could know or get out of her was, that she had been engaged; and he could + perceive also, that she was able to procure her many general comforts, not + usually to be had about the sick bed of a person in her condition of life. + </p> + <p> + Mave, during all her attendance upon Sarah, was never able to ascertain + whether, in the pauses of delirium, she had been able to recognize her. At + one period, while giving her a drink of whey, she looked up into her eyes + with something like a glance of consciousness, mingled with wonder, and + appeared about to speak, but in a moment it was gone, and she relapsed + into her former state. + </p> + <p> + This, however, was not the only circumstance that astonished Mave. The + course of a single week also made a very singular change in the condition + of the Daltons. Their miserable cabin began to exhibit an abundance of + wholesome food, such as fresh meat, soup, tea, sugar,white bread, and even + to wine, to strengthen the invalids. These things were to Mave equally a + relief and a wonder; nor were the neighbors less puzzled at such an + unaccountable improvement in the circumstances of this pitiable and + suffering family. As in the case of Sarah, however, all these comforts, + and the source from whence they proceeded, were shrouded in mystery. It is + true, Mrs. Dalton smiled in a melancholy way when any inquiries were made + about the matter, and shaking her head, declared, that although she knew, + it was out of her power to break the seal of secrecy, or violate the + promise she had made to their unknown benefactor. + </p> + <p> + Sarah's fever was dreadfully severe, and for some time after her removal + from the shed, there was little hope of her recovery. Our friend, the + pedlar, paid her a visit in the very height of her malady, and without + permission, given or asked, took the liberty, in her father's absence, of + completely removing her raven hair, with the exception, as in Mave's case, + of those locks which adorn the face and forehead, and, to his shame and + dishonesty be it told, without the slightest offer of remuneration. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. — Double Treachery. + </h2> + <p> + The state of the country at this period of our narrative was, indeed, + singularly gloomy and miserable. Some improvement, however, had taken + place in the statistics of disease; but the destitution was still so sharp + and terrible, that there was very little diminution of the tumults which + still prevailed. Indeed the rioting, in some districts, had risen to a + frightful extent. The cry of the people was, for either bread or work; and + to still, if possible, this woeful clamor, local committees, by large + subscriptions, aided, in some cases, by loans from government, contrived + to find them employment on useful public works. Previous to this, nothing + could surpass the prostration and abject subserviency with which the + miserable crowds solicited food or labor. Only give them labor at any rate—say + sixpence a day—and they did not wish to beg or violate the laws. No, + no; only give them peaceable employment, and they would rest not only + perfectly contented, but deeply grateful. In the meantime, the employment + they sought for was provided, not at sixpence, but at one-and-sixpence a + day; so that for a time they appeared to feel satisfied, and matters went + on peaceably enough. This, however, was too good to last. There are ever, + among such masses of people, unprincipled knaves, known as “politicians”—idle + vagabonds, who hate all honest employment themselves, and ask no better + than to mislead and fleece the ignorant unreflecting people, however or + wherever they can. These fellows read and expound the papers on Sundays + and holidays; rail not only against every government, no matter what its + principles are, but, in general, attack all constituted authority, without + feeling one single spark of true national principle, or independent love + of liberty. It is such corrupt scoundrels that always assail the executive + of the country, and at the same time supply the official staff of spies + and informers with their blackest perjurers and traitors. In truth, they + are always the first to corrupt, and the first to betray. You may hear + these men denouncing government this week, and see them strutting about + the Castle, its pampered instruments, and insolent with its patronage, the + next. If there be a strike, conspiracy, or cabal of any kind, these + “patriots” are at the bottom of it; and wherever ribbonism and other + secret societies do not exist, there they are certain to set them agoing. + </p> + <p> + For only a short time were these who had procured industrial employment + permitted to rest satisfied with the efforts which had been made on their + behalf. The “patriots” soon commenced operations. + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen pence a day was nothing; the government had plenty of money, and + if the people wished to hear a truth, it could be tould them by those who + knew—listen hether”—as the Munster men say—“the country + gentlemen and the committees are putting half the money into their own + pockets”—this being precisely what the knaves would do themselves if + they were in their places—“and for that reason we'll strike for + higher wages.” + </p> + <p> + In this manner were the people led first into folly, and ultimately into + rioting and crime; for it is not, in point of fact, those who are + suffering most severely that take a prominent part in these senseless + tumults, or who are the first to trample upon law and order. The evil + example is set to those who do suffer by these factious vagabonds; and, + under such circumstances, and betrayed by such delusions, the poor people + join the crowd, and find themselves engaged in the outrage, before they + have time to reflect upon their conduct. + </p> + <p> + At the time of which we write, however, the government did not consider it + any part of its duty to take a deep interest in the domestic or social + improvement of the people. The laws of the country, at that period, had + but one aspect—that of terror; for it was evident that the + legislature of the day had forgotten that neither an individual nor a + people can both love and fear the same object at the same time. The laws + checked insubordination and punished crime; and having done this, the + great end and object of all law was considered to have been attained. We + hope, however, the day has come when education, progress, improvement and + reward, will shed their mild and peaceful lustre upon our statute-books, + and banish from them those Draconian enactments, that engender only fear + and hatred, breathe of cruelty, and have their origin in a tyrannical love + of blood. + </p> + <p> + We have said that the aspect of the country was depressing and gloomy; but + we may add here, that these words convey but a vague and feeble idea of + the state to which the people at large were reduced. The general + destitution, the famine, sickness and death, which had poured such misery + and desolation over the land, left, as might be expected, their terrible + traces behind them. Indeed the sufferings which a year of famine and + disease—and they usually either accompany or succeed each other—inflicts + upon the multitudes of poor, are such as no human pen could at all + describe, so as to portray a picture sufficiently faithful to the dreary + and death-like spirit which should breath in it. Upon the occasion we + write of, nothing met you, go where you might, but suffering, and sorrow, + and death, to which we may add, tumult, and crime, and bloodshed. Scarcely + a family but had lost one or more. Every face you met was an index of + calamity, and bore upon it the unquestionable impressions of struggle and + hardship. Cheerfulness and mirth had gone, and were forgotten. All the + customary amusements of the people had died away. Almost every house had a + lonely and deserted look; for it was known that one or more beloved beings + had gone out of it to the grave. A dark, heartless spirit was abroad. The + whole land, in fact, mourned, and nothing on which the eye could rest, + bore a green or a thriving look, or any symptom of activity, but the + churchyards, and here the digging and delving were incessant—at the + early twilight, during the gloomy noon, the dreary dusk, and the still + more funeral looking light of the midnight taper. + </p> + <p> + The first days of the assizes were now near, and among all those who + awaited them, there was none whose fate excited so profound an interest as + that of old Condy Dalton. His family had now recovered from their terrible + sufferings, and were able to visit him in his prison—a privilege + which was awarded to them as a mark of respect for their many virtues, and + of sympathy for their extraordinary calamities and trials. They found him + resigned to his fate, but stunned with wonder at the testimony on which he + was likely to be convicted. The pedlar, who appeared to take so singular + an interest in the fortunes of his family, sought and obtained a short + interview with him, in which he requested him to state, as accurately as + he could remember, the circumstances on which the prosecution was founded, + precisely as they occurred. This he did, closing his account by the usual + burthen of all his conversation ever since he went to gaol: + </p> + <p> + “I know I must suffer; but I think nothing of myself, only for the shame + it will bring upon my family.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah's unexpected illness disconcerted at least one of the projects of + Donnel Dhu. There were now only two days until the assizes, and she was as + yet incapable of leaving her bed, although in a state of convalescence. + This mortified the Prophet very much, but his subtlety and invention never + abandoned him. It struck him that the most effectual plan now would be—as + Sarah's part in aiding to take away Mave was out of the question—to + merge the violence to which he felt they must resort, into that of the + famine riots; and under the character of one of these tumults, to succeed, + if possible, in removing Mave from her father's house, ere her family + could understand the true cause of her removal. Those who were to be + engaged in this were, besides, principally strangers, to whom neither Mave + nor her family were personally known; and as a female cousin of hers—an + orphan—had come to reside with them until better times should + arrive, it would be necessary to have some one among the party who knew + Mave sufficiently to make no mistake as to her person. For this purpose he + judiciously fixed upon Thomas Dalton, as the most appropriate individual + to execute this act of violence against the very family who were likely to + be the means of bringing his father to a shameful death. This young man + had not yet recovered the use of his reason, so as to be considered sane. + He still roved about as before, sometimes joining the mobs, and leading + them on to the outrage, and sometimes sauntering in a solitary mood, + without seeming altogether conscious of what he did or said. To secure his + co-operation was a matter of little or difficulty, and the less so as he + heard, with infinite satisfaction, that Dalton was perpetually threatening + every description of vengeance against the Sullivans, about to be tried, + and very likely to suffer for the murder. + </p> + <p> + It was now the day but one previous to the commencement of the assizes, + and our readers will be kind enough to accompany us to the Grange, or + rather to the garden of the Grange, at the gate of which our acquaintance + Red Rody is knocking. He has knocked two or three times, and sent, on each + occasion, Hanlon, old Dick, young Dick, together with all the component + parts of the establishment, to a certain territory, where, so far as its + legitimate historians assure us, the coldness of the climate has never + been known to give any particular offence. + </p> + <p> + “I know he's inside, for didn't I see him goin' in—well, may all the + devils—hem—oh, good morrow, Charley—troth you'd make a + good messenger for death. I'm knocking here till I have lost the use of my + arm wid downright fatigue.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Rody, you'll recover it before you're twice married—come + in.” They then entered. “Well, Rody, what's the news?” + </p> + <p> + “What the news, is it? Why then is anything in the shape of news—of + good news I mean—to be had in such a counthry as this? Troth it's a + shame for any one that has health an' limbs to remain in it. An' now that + you're answered, what's the news yourself, Charley? I hope that the + Drivership's safe at last, I thought I was to sleep at home in my + comfortable berth last—” + </p> + <p> + “Not now till afther the 'sizes, Rody.” + </p> + <p> + “The master's goin' to them? bekaise I heard he wasn't able.” + </p> + <p> + “He's goin', he says, happen what may; he thinks it's his last visit to + them, and I agree wid him—he'll soon have a greater 'sizes and a + different judge to meet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Charley, think of that now; an' tell me, he sleeps in Ballynafail, as + usual; eh, now?” + </p> + <p> + “He does of course.” + </p> + <p> + “An' Jemmy Branigan goes along wid him?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you foolish, Kody? Do you think he could live widout him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I b'lieve not. Throth, whenever the ould fellow goes in the next + world, there'll be no keepin' Jemmy from him. Howandiver, to dhrop that. + Isn't these poor times, Charley, an' isn't this a poor counthry to live in—or + it would be nearer the truth to say starve in?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but it would be the truth itself,” replied the other. “What is there + over the whole counthry but starvation and misery?” + </p> + <p> + “Any dhrames about America since, Charley? eh, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe ay, and maybe no, Rody. Is it true that Tom Dalton threatens all + kinds of vengeance on the Sullivans?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, is it, an' the whole counthry says that he's as ready to knock one o' + them on the head as ever the father before him was. They don't think the + betther of the ould man for it; but what do you mane by 'maybe ay, an' + maybe no,' Charley?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mane by axin' me?” + </p> + <p> + Each looked keenly for some time at the other as he spoke, and after this + there was a pause. At length, Hanlon, placing his hand upon Rody's + shoulder, replied: + </p> + <p> + “Rody, it won't do. I know the design—and I tell you now that one + word from my lips could have you brought up at the assizes—tried—and + I won't say the rest. You're betrayed!” + </p> + <p> + The ruffian's lip fell—his voice faltered, and he became pale. + </p> + <p> + “Ay!” proceeded the other, “you may well look astonished—but listen, + you talk about goin' to America—do you wish to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Of coorse I do,” replied Body, “of coorse—not a doubt of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” proceeded Hanlon again, “listen still! your plan's discovered, + you're betrayed; but I can't tell you who betrayed you, I'm not at + liberty. Now listen, I say, come this way. Couldn't you an' I ourselves do + the thing—couldn't we make the haul, and couldn't we cut off to + America without any danger to signify, that is, if you can be faithful?” + </p> + <p> + “Faithful!” he exclaimed. “By all the books that was ever opened an' shut, + I'm thruth and honesty itself, so I am—howandiver, you said I was + betrayed?” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't tell you the man that toald me. Whether you're able to guess + at him or not, I don't know; but the thruth is, Rody, I've taken a likin' + to you—an' if you'll just stand the trial I'm goin' to put you to, + I'll be a friend to you—the best you ever had too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Charley,” said the other, plucking up courage a little, for the + fellow was a thorough coward, “what is the thrial?” + </p> + <p> + “The man,” continued Hanlon, “that betrayed you gave me one account of + what you're about; but whether he tould me thruth or not I don't know till + I hear another, an' that's yours. Now, you see clearly, Rody, that I'm up + to all as it is, so you need not be a bit backward in tellin' the whole + thruth. I say you're in danger, an' it's only trustin' to me—mark + that—by trustin' faithfully to me that you'll get out of it; an', + plaise the fates, I hope that, before three mouths is over, we'll be both + safe an' comfortable in America. Do you undherstand that? I had my + dhrames, Rody; but if I had, there must be nobody but yourself and me to + know them.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't I that first thought of it, but Donnel Dhu,” replied Kody; “I + never dreamt that he'd turn thraitor though.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be sayin' to-morrow or next day that I said he did,” replied + Hanlon. “Do you mind me now? A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse.” + </p> + <p> + Rody, though cowardly and treacherous, was extremely cunning, and upon + turning the matter over in his mind, he began to dread, or rather to feel + that Hanlon had so far over-reached him. Still it might be possible, he + thought, that the prophet had betrayed him, and he resolved to put a query + to his companion that would test his veracity; after which he would leave + himself at liberty to play a double game, if matters should so fall out as + to render it necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Did the man that tould you everything,” he asked, “tell you the night + that was appointed for this business?” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon felt this was a puzzler, and that he might possibly commit himself + by replying in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “he didn't tell me that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha!” thought his companion, “I see whereabouts you are.” + </p> + <p> + He disclosed, however, the whole plot, with the single exception of the + night appointed for the robbery, which, in point of date, he placed in his + narrative exactly a week after the real time. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said to himself, “so far I'm on the safe side; still, if he has + humbugged me, I've paid him in his own coin. Maybe the whole haul, as he + calls it, may be secured before they begin to prepare for it.” + </p> + <p> + Hanlon, however, had other designs. After musing a little, they sauntered + along the garden walks, during which he proposed a plan of their own for + the robbery of Henderson; and so admirably was it concocted, and so + tempting to the villainous cupidity of Duncan, that he expressed himself + delighted from the commencement of its fancied execution until their + ultimate settlement in America. + </p> + <p> + “It was a treacherous thing, I grant, to betray you, Rody,” said Hanlon; + “an' if I was in your place, I'd give him tit for tat. An', by the way, + talkin' of the Prophet—not that I say it was he betrayed you—for + indeed now it wasn't—bad cess to me if it was—I think you + wanst said you knew more about him than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha,” again thought Rody, “I think I see what you're afther at last; + but no matther, I'll keep my eye on you. Hut, ay did I,” he replied; “but + I forget now what's this it was. However, I'll try if I can remember it; + if I do, I'll tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “You an' he will hang that murdherin' villain, Dalton—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afeard o' that,” replied the other; “an' for my part, I'd as soon be + out of the thing altogether; however, it can't be helped now.'” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it sthrange, Rody, how murdher comes out at last?” observed Hanlon; + “now there's that ould man, an' see, after twenty years or more, how it + comes against him. However, it's not a very pleasant subject, so let it + dhrop. Here's Masther Richard comin' through the private gate,” he added; + “but if you slip down to my aunt's to-night, we'll have a glass of + something that'll do us no harm at any rate, and we can talk more about + the other business.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied Rody, “I'll be down, so goodbye; an' whisper, + Charley,” he added, putting on a broad grin; “don't be too sure that I + tould you a single word o' thruth about the rob—hem—ha, ha! + take care of yourself—good people is scarce you know—ha, ha, + ha!” + </p> + <p> + He then left Hanlon in a state of considerable doubt as to the discovery + he had made touching the apprehended burglary; and his uncertainty was the + greater, inasmuch as he had frequently heard the highest possible + encomiums lavished upon Duncan's extraordinary powers of invention and + humbug. + </p> + <p> + Young Henderson, on hearing these circumstances, did not seriously + question their truth; neither did they in the slightest degree shake his + confidence in the intentions of the Prophet with respect to Mave Sullivan. + Indeed, he argued very reasonably and correctly, that the man who was + capable of the one act, would have little hesitation to commit the other. + This train of reflection, however, he kept to himself, for it is necessary + to state here, that Hanlon was not at all in the secret of the plot + against Mave. Henderson had, on an earlier occasion sounded him upon it, + but perceived at once that his scruples could not be overcome, and that of + course it would be dangerous to repose confidence in him. + </p> + <p> + The next evening was that immediately preceding the assizes, and it was + known that Dalton's trial was either the second or third on the list, and + must consequently come on, on the following day. The pedlar and Hanlon sat + in a depressed and melancholy mood at the fire; an old crone belonging to + the village, who had been engaged to take care of the house during the + absence of Hanlon's aunt, sat at the other side, occasionally putting an + empty dudeen into her mouth, drawing it hopelessly, and immediately + knocking the bowl of it in a fretful manner, against the nail of her left + thumb. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matther, Ailey?” asked the pedlar; “are you out o' tobaccy?” + </p> + <p> + “Throth it's time for you to ax—ay am I; since I ate my dinner, + sorra puff I had.” + </p> + <p> + “Here then,” he replied, suiting the action to the word, and throwing a + few halfpence into her lap; “go to Peggy Finigan's an' buy yourself a + couple of ounces, an' smoke rings round you; and listen to me, go down + before you come back to Bamy Keeran's an' see whether he has my shoes done + or not, an' tell him from me, that if they're not ready for me tomorrow + mornin', I'll get him exkummunicated.” + </p> + <p> + When the crone had gone out, the pedlar proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “Don't be cast down yet, I tell you; there's still time enough, an' they + may be here still.” + </p> + <p> + “Be here still! why, good God! isn't the thrial to come on to-morrow, they + say?” + </p> + <p> + “So itself; you may take my word for it, that even if he's found guilty, + they won't hang him, or any man of his years.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too sure o' that,” replied Hanlon; “but indeed what could I + expect afther dependin' upon a foolish dhrame?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; I'm still of the opinion that everything may come about yet. + The Prophet's wife was with Father Hanratty, tellin' him something, an' he + is to call here early in the mornin'; he bid me tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you see him?” + </p> + <p> + “To day at the cross roads, as he was goin' to a sick call. + </p> + <p> + “But where's the use o' that, when they're not here? My own opinion is, + that she's either sick, or if God hasn't said it, maybe dead. How can we + tell if ever she has seen or found the man you sent her for? Sure, if she + didn't, all's lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, I allow,” replied the pedlar, “that things is in a distressin' + state with us; however, while there's life there's hope, as the Doctor + says. There must be something extraordinary wrong to keep them away so + long, I grant—or herself, at any rate; still, I say again, trust in + God. You have secured Duncan, you say; but can you depend on the ruffian?” + </p> + <p> + “If it was on his honesty, I could not, one second, but I do upon his + villainy and love of money. I have promised him enough, and it all depends + on whether he'll believe me or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” observed the other, “I wish things had a brighter look up. + If we fail, I won't know what to say. We must only thry an' do the best we + can, ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen the agint since you gave him the petition?” asked Hanlon. + </p> + <p> + “I did, but he had no discoorse with the Hendherson's; and he bid me call + on him again.” + </p> + <p> + “I dunna what does he intend to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Hut, nothing. What 'id he do? I'll go bail, he'll never trouble his head + about it more; at any rate I tould him a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely he won't,” replied Hanlon; “but what I'm thinkin' of now, is + the poor Daltons. May God in his mercy pity an' support them this night!” + </p> + <p> + The pedlar clasped his hands tightly as he looked up, and said “Amen!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said he, “it's now, Charley, whin I think of them, that I get + frightened about our disappointment, and the way that everything has + failed with us. God pity them, I say, too!” + </p> + <p> + The situation of this much tried family, was, indeed, on the night in + question, pitiable in the extreme. It is true, they had now recovered, or + nearly so, the full enjoyment of their health, and were—owing, as we + have already said, to the bounty of some unknown friend—in + circumstances of considerable comfort. Dalton's confession of the murder + had taken away from them every principle upon which they could rely, with + one only exception. Until the moment of that confession, they had never + absolutely been in possession of the secret cause of his remorse—although, + it must be admitted, that, on some occasions, the strength of his language + and the melancholy depth of his sorrow, filled them with something like + suspicion. Still such they knew to be the natural affection and tenderness + of his heart, his benevolence and generosity, in spite of his occasional + bursts of passion, that they could not reconcile to themselves the notion + that he had ever murdered a fellow creature. Every one knows how slow the + heart of wife or child is to entertain such a terrible suspicion against a + husband or a parent, and that the discovery of their guilt comes upon the + spirit with a weight of distress and agony that is great in proportion to + the confidence felt in them. + </p> + <p> + The affectionate family in question had just concluded their simple act of + evening worship, and were seated around a dull fire, looking forward in + deep dejection to the awful event of the following day. The silence that + prevailed was only broken by an occasional sob from the girls, or a deep + sigh from young Con, who, with his mother, had not long been returned from + Ballynafail, where they had gone to make preparations for the old man's + defence. His chair stood by the fire, in its usual place, and as they + looked upon it from time to time, they could not prevent their grief from + bursting out afresh. The mother, on this occasion, found the usual grounds + for comfort taken away from both herself and them—we mean, the + husband's innocence. She consequently had but one principle to rely on—that + of single dependence upon God, and obedience to His sovereign will, + however bitter the task might be, and so she told them. + </p> + <p> + “It's a great thrial to us, children,” she observed; “an' it's only + natural we should feel it. I do not bid you to stop cryin', my poor girls, + because it would be very strange if you didn't cry. Still, let us not + forget that it's our duty to bow down humbly before whatever misfortune—an' + this is indeed a woeful one—that it pleases God in His wisdom (or, + may be, in His mercy), to lay in our way. That's all we can do now, God + help us—an' a hard thrial it is—for when we think of what he + was to us—of his kindness—his affection!——” + </p> + <p> + Her own voice became infirm, and, instead of proceeding, she paused a + moment, and then giving one long, convulsive sob, that rushed up from her + very heart, she wept out long and bitterly. The grief now became a wail; + and were it not for the presence of Con, who, however, could scarcely + maintain a firm voice himself, the sorrow-worn mother and her unhappy + daughters would have scarcely known when to cease. + </p> + <p> + “Mother dear!” he exclaimed—“what use is in this? You began with + givin' us a good advice, an' you ended with settin' us a bad example! Oh, + mother, darlin', forgive me the word—never, never since we remember + anything, did you ever set us a bad example.” + </p> + <p> + “Con dear, I bore up as long as I could,” she replied, wiping her eye; + “but you know, after all, nature's nature, an' will have its way. You + know, too, that this is the first tear I shed, since he left us.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” replied her son, laying her careworn cheek over upon his bosom, + “that you are the best mother that ever breathed, an' that I would lay + down my life to save your heart from bein' crushed, as it is, an' as it + has been.” + </p> + <p> + She felt a few warm tears fall upon her face as he spoke; and the only + reply she made was, to press him affectionately to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “God's merciful, if we're obedient,” she added, in a few moments; “don't + you remember, that when Abraham was commanded to kill his only son, he was + ready to obey God, and do it; and don't you remember that it wasn't until + his very hand was raised, with the knife in it, that God interfered. + Whisht,” she continued, “I hear a step—who is it? Oh, poor Tom!” + </p> + <p> + The poor young man entered as she spoke; and after looking about him for + some time, placed himself in the arm chair. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, darlin',” said his sister Peggy, “don't sit in that—that's our + poor father's chair; an' until he sits in it again, none of us ever will.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody has sich a right to sit in it as I have,” he replied, “I'm a + murdherer.” + </p> + <p> + His words, his wild figure, and the manner in which he uttered them, + filled them with alarm and horror. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, dear,” said his brother, approaching him, “why do you speak that + way?—you're not a murdherer!” + </p> + <p> + “I am!” he replied; “but I haven't done wid the Sullivans yet, for what + they're goin' to do—ha, ha, ha!—oh, no. It's all planned; an' + they'll suffer, never doubt it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” said Mary, who began to fear that he might, in some wild paroxysm, + have taken the life of the unfortunate miser, or of some one else; “if you + murdhered any one, who was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” he replied; “if you go up to Curraghbeg churchyard, you'll + find her there; the child's wid her—but I didn't murdher the child, + did I?” + </p> + <p> + On finding that he alluded only to the unfortunate Peggy Murtagh, they + recovered from the shock into which his words had thrown them. Tom, + however, appeared exceedingly exhausted and feeble, as was evident from + his inability to keep himself awake. His head gradually sank upon his + breast, and in a few minutes he fell into a slumber. “I'll put him to + bed,” said Con; “help me to raise him.” + </p> + <p> + They lifted him up, and a melancholy sight it was to see that face, which + had once been such a noble specimen of manly beauty, now shrunk away into + an expression of gaunt and haggard wildness, that was painful to + contemplate. His sisters could not restrain their tears, on looking at the + wreck that was before them; and his mother, with a voice of deep anguish, + exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “My brave, my beautiful boy, what, oh, what has become of you? Oh, Tom, + Tom,” she added—“maybe it's well for you that you don't know the + breakin' hearts that's about you this night—or the bitter fate + that's over him that loved you so well.” + </p> + <p> + As they turned him about, to take off his cravat, he suddenly raised his + head, and looking about him, asked— + </p> + <p> + “Where's my father gone?—I see you all about me but him—where's + my fath—” + </p> + <p> + Ere the words were pronounced, however, he was once more asleep, and free + for a time from the wild and moody malady which oppressed him. + </p> + <p> + Such was the night, and such were the circumstances and feelings that + ushered in the fearful day of Condy Dalton's trial. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. — A Picture of the Present—Sarah Breaks her + Word. + </h2> + <p> + The gray of a cold frosty morning had begun to dawn, and the angry red of + the eastern sky gradually to change into that dim but darkening aspect + which marks a coming tempest of snow, when the parish priest, the Rev. + Father Hanratty, accompanied by Nelly M'Gowan, passed along the + Ballynafail road, on their way to the Grange, for the purpose of having a + communication with Charley Hanlon. It would, indeed, be impossible to + describe a morning more strongly marked than the one in question, by that + cold and shivering impression of utter misery which it is calculated to + leave on any mind, especially when associated with the sufferings of our + people. The breeze was keen and so cutting, that one felt as if that part + of the person exposed to it had undergone the process of excoriation, and + when a stronger blast than usual swept over the naked and desolate-looking + fields, its influence actually benumbed the joints, and penetrated the + whole system with a sensation that made one imagine the very marrow within + the bones was frozen. + </p> + <p> + They had not proceeded far beyond the miserable shed where Sarah, in the + rapid prostration of typhus, had been forced to take shelter, when, in + passing a wretched cabin by the roadside, which, from its open door and + ruinous windows, had all the appearance of being uninhabited, they heard + the moans of some unhappy individual within, accompanied, as it were, with + something like the low feeble wail of an infant. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the worthy priest, “this, I fear, is another of those awful + cases of desertion and death that are too common in this terrible and + scourging visitation. We must not pass here without seeing what is the + matther, and rendering such assistance as we can.” + </p> + <p> + “Wid the help o' God, my foot won't cross the threshel,” replied Nelly—“I + know it's the sickness—God keep it from us!—an' I won't put + myself in the way o' it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't profain the name of the Almighty, you wretched woman,” replied the + priest, alighting from his horse; “it is always His will and wish, that in + such trials as these you should do whatever you can for your suffering + fellow-creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I should catch it,” the other replied, “what 'ud become o' me? + mightn't I be as bad as they are in there; an' maybe in the same place, + too; an' God knows I'm not fit to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay where you are,” said the priest, “until I enter the house, and if + your assistance should be necessary, I shall command you to come in.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you ordher me,” replied the superstitious creature, “that + changes the case. I'll be then undher obadience to my clargy.” + </p> + <p> + “If you had better observed the precepts of your religion, and the + injunctions of your clergy, wretched woman, you would not be the vile + creature you are to-day,” he replied, as he hooked his horse's bridle upon + a staple in the door-post, and entered the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, merciful father, support me!” he exclaimed, “what a sight is here! + Come in at once,” he added, addressing himself to Nelly; “and if you have + a woman's heart within you, aid me in trying what can be done.” + </p> + <p> + Awed by his words, but with timidity and reluctance, she approached the + scene of appalling misery which there lay before them. But how shall we + describe it? The cabin in which they stood had been evidently for some + time deserted, a proof that its former humble inmates had been all swept + off by typhus; for in these peculiar and not uncommon cases, no other + family would occupy the house thus left desolate, so that the cause of its + desertion was easily understood. The floor was strewed in some places with + little stopples of rotten thatch, evidently blown in by the wind of the + previous night; the cheerless fire-place was covered with clots of soot, + and the floor was all spattered over with the black shining moisture + called soot-drops, which want of heat and habitation caused to fall from + the roof. The cold, strong blast, too, from time to time, rushed in with + wild moans of desolation, that rose and fell in almost supernatural tones, + and swept the dead ashes and soot from the fireplace, and the rotten + thatch from the floor, in little eddies that spun about until they had got + into some nook or corner where the fiercer strength of the blast could not + reach them. Stretched out in this wretched and abandoned hut, lay before + the good priest and his companion, a group of misery, consisting of both + the dying and the dead—to wit, a mother and her three children. Over + in the corner, on the right hand side of the fire-place, the unhappy and + perishing creature lay, divided, or rather torn asunder, as it were, by + the rival claims of affection. Lying close to her cold and shivering + breast was an infant of about six months old, striving feebly, from time + to time, to draw from that natural source of affection the sustenance + which had been dried up by chilling misery and want. Beside her, on the + left, lay a boy—a pale, emaciated boy—about eight years old, + silent and motionless, with the exception that, ever and anon, he turned + round his heavy blue eyes as if to ask some comfort or aid, or even some + notice from his unfortunate mother, who, as if conscious of these + affectionate supplications, pressed his wan cheek tenderly with her + fingers, to intimate to him, that as far as she could, she responded to, + and acknowledged these last entreaties of the heart; whilst, again, she + felt her affections called upon by the apparently dying struggles of the + infant that was, in reality, fast perishing at the now-exhausted fountain + of its life. Between these two claimants was the breaking heart of the + woeful mother divided, but the alternations of her love seemed now almost + wrought up to the last terrible agonies of mere animal instinct, when the + sufferings are strong in proportion to that debility of reason which + supervenes in such deaths as arise from famine, or under those feelings of + indescribable torture which tore her affection, as it were, to pieces, and + paralyzed her higher powers of moral suffering. Beyond the infant again, + and next the wall, lay a girl, it might be about eleven, stretched, as if + in sleep, and apparently in a state of composure that struck one forcibly, + when contrasted, from its utter stillness, with the yet living agonies by + which she was surrounded. It was evident, from the decency with which the + girl's thin scanty covering was arranged, and the emaciated arms placed by + her side, that the poor parent had endeavored, as well as she could, to + lay her out; and, oh, great God! what a task for a mother, and under what + circumstances must it have been performed! There, however, did the corpse + of this fair and unhappy child lie; her light and silken locks blown upon + her still and death-like features by the ruffian blast, and the + complacency which had evidently characterized her countenance when in + life, now stamped by death, with the sharp and wan expression of misery + and the grave. Thus surrounded lay the dying mother, and it was not until + the priest had taken in, at more than one view, the whole terrors of this + awful scene, that he had time to let his eyes rest upon her countenance + and person. When he did, however, the history, though a fearful one, was, + in her case, as indeed in too many, legible at a glance, and may be + comprised in one word—starvation. + </p> + <p> + Father Hanratty was a firm minded man, with a somewhat rough manner, but a + heart natural and warm. After looking upon her face for a few moments, he + clasped, his hands closely together, and turning up his eyes to Heaven, he + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Great God, guide and support me in this trying scene!” + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, it is not to be wondered at that he uttered such an + exclamation. There lay in the woman's eyes—between her knit and + painful eye-brows, over her shrunk upper forehead, upon her sharp + cheek-bones, and along the ridge of her thin, wasted nose—there lay + upon her skeleton arms, pointed elbows, and long-jointed fingers, a + frightful expression, at once uniform and varied, that spoke of gaunt and + yellow famine in all its most hideous horrors. Her eyeballs protruded even + to sharpness, and as she glared about her with a half conscious and + half-instinctive look, there seemed a fierce demand in her eye that would + have been painful, were it not that it was occasionally tamed down into + something mournful and imploring, by a recollection of the helpless beings + that were about her. Stripped, as she then was, of all that civilized + society presents to a human being on the bed of death—without + friends, aid of any kind, comfort, sympathy, or the consolations of + religion—she might be truly said to have sunk to the mere condition + of animal life—whose uncontrollable impulses had thus left their + startling and savage impress upon her countenance, unless, as we have + said, when the faint dawn of consciousness threw a softer and more human + light into her wild features. + </p> + <p> + “In the name and in the spirit of God's mercy,” asked the priest, “if you + have the use of your tongue or voice, tell me what the matter is with you + or your children? Is it sickness or starvation?” + </p> + <p> + The sound of a human voice appeared to arrest her attention, and rouse her + a little. She paused, as it were, from her sufferings, and looked first at + the priest, and then at his companion—but she spoke not. He then + repeated the question, and after a little delay he saw that her lips + moved. + </p> + <p> + “She is striving to speak,” said he, “but cannot. I will stoop to her.” + </p> + <p> + He repeated the question a third time, and, stooping, so as to bring his + ear near her mouth, he could catch, expressed very feebly and + indistinctly, the word—hunger. She then made an effort, and bent + down her mouth to the infant which now lay still at her breast. She felt + for its little heart, she felt its little lips—but they were now + chill and motionless; its little hands ceased to gather any longer around + her breast; it was cold—it was breathless—it was dead! Her + countenance now underwent a singular and touching change—a kind of + solemn joy—a sorrowful serenity was diffused over it. She seemed to + remember their position, and was in the act, after having raised her eyes + to heaven, of putting round her hand to feel for the boy who lay on the + other side, when she was seized with a short and rather feeble spasm, and + laying down her head in its original position between her children, she + was at last freed from life and all the sufferings which its gloomy lot + had inflicted upon her and those whom she loved. + </p> + <p> + The priest, seeing that she was dead, offered up a short but earnest + prayer for the repose of her soul, after which he turned his attention to + the boy. + </p> + <p> + “The question now is,” he observed to his companion, “can we save this + poor, but interesting child?” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly think it possible,” she replied; “doesn't your reverence see + that death's workin' at him—and an' aisey job he'll have of the poor + thing now.” + </p> + <p> + “Hunger and cold have here done awful work,” said Father Hanratty, “as + they have and will in many other conditions similar to this. I shall mount + my horse, and if you lift the poor child up, I will wrap him as well as I + can in my great coat,”—which, by the way, he stripped off him as he + spoke. He then folded it round the boy, and putting him into Nelly's arms, + was about to leave the cabin, when the child, looking round him for a + moment, and then upon his mother, made a faint struggle to get back. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, asthore?” asked the woman; “what is it you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Lave me wid my mother,” he said; “let me go to her; my poor father's + dead, an' left us—oh! let me stay with her.” + </p> + <p> + The poor boy's voice was so low and feeble, that it was with difficulty + she heard the words, which she repeated to the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Dear child,” said the latter, “we are bringing you to where you will get + food and drink, and a warm bed to go to, and you will get better, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + And as he took the helpless and innocent sufferer into his arms, after + having fixed himself in the saddle, the tears of strong compassion ran + down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “He is as light as a feather, poor thing,” exclaimed the kind-hearted man; + “but I trust in heaven we may save him yet.” + </p> + <p> + And they immediately hurried onward to the next house, which happened to + be that of our friend Jerry Sullivan, to the care of whose humane and. + affectionate family they consigned him. + </p> + <p> + We cannot dwell here upon that which every reader can anticipate; it is + enough to say that the boy with care recovered, and that his unfortunate + mother with her two children received an humble grave in the nearest + churchyard, beyond the reach of the storms and miseries of life forever. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the Grange, or rather the house now occupied by widow Hanlon, + the priest having sent for Charley, into whose confidence he had for some + time been admitted, had a private conference, of considerable length, with + him and the pedlar; after which, Nelly was called in, as it would seem, to + make some disclosure connected with the subject they were discussing. A + deep gloom, however, rested upon both Hanlon and the pedlar; and it was + sufficiently evident that whatever the import of Nelly M'Gowan's + communication may have been, it was not of so cheering a nature as to + compensate for the absence of widow Hanlon, and the party for which she + had been sent. Father Hanratty having left them, they took an early + breakfast, and proceeded to Ballynafail—which we choose to designate + as the assize town—in order to watch, with disappointed and heavy + hearts, the trial of Condy Dalton, in whose fate they felt a deeper + interest than the reader might suppose. + </p> + <p> + All the parties attended, the Prophet among the rest; and it might have + been observed, that his countenance was marked by an expression of + peculiar determination. His brow was, if possible, darker than usual; his + eye was quicker and more circumspect, but his complexion, notwithstanding + this, was not merely pale, but absolutely white as ashes. The morning + came, however, and the assies were opened with the usual formalities. The + judge's charge to the grand jury, in consequence of the famine outrages + which had taken place to such an extent, was unusually long; nor was the + “King against Dalton,” for the murder of Sullivan, left without due advice + and comment. In this way a considerable portion of the day passed. At + length a trial for horse-stealing came on, but closed too late to allow + them to think of commencing any other case during that day; and, as a + natural consequence, that of Condy Dalton was postponed until the next + morning. + </p> + <p> + It is an impressive thing; and fills the mind with a reverend sense of the + wisdom manifested by an over-ruling Providence, to reflect upon the + wondrous manner in which the influence of slight incidents is made to + frustrate the subtlest designs of human ingenuity, and vindicate the + justice of the Almighty in the eyes of his creatures, sometimes for the + reward of the just, and as often for the punishment of the guilty. Had the + trial of Dalton, for instance, gone on, as had been anticipated, during + the first day, it is impossible to say how many of the characters in our + humble drama might have grievously suffered or escaped in consequence. At + all events it is not likely that the following dialogue would have ever + taken place, or been made instrumental in working out purposes, and + defeating plans, with which the reader, if he is not already, will very + soon be made acquainted. + </p> + <p> + Donnel Dhu had returned from the assizes, and was sitting, as usual, + poring over the fire, when he asked the old woman who nursed Sarahif there + had been any persons inquiring for him since nightfall. + </p> + <p> + “Three or four,” she replied; “but I said you hadn't come home yet; an' + divil a one o' them but was all on the same tune, an' bid me to tell you + that it was a safe night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope it is, Biddy,” he replied, “but not so safe,” he added to + himself, “as I could wish it to be. How is Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “She's better,” replied the woman, “an' was up to-day for an hour or two; + but still she's poorly, and I think her brain isn't right yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely it isn't,” said the Prophet. “But, Biddy, when were you at + Shanco?” + </p> + <p> + “Not this week past.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if you like to slip over for an hour or so now, you may, an' + I'll take care of Sarah till you come back; only don't be longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Long life to you, Donnel; throth an' I want to go, if it was only to set + the little matthers right for them poor orphans, my grandchildre.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, go,” he replied; “but don't be more than an hour away, mind. + I'll take care of Sarah for you till you come back.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a tap came to the door, and Donnel, on hearing it, went + out, and in a minute or two returned again, saying— + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, Biddy; make haste, if you wish to go at all; but remember not to + be more than an hour away.” + </p> + <p> + The old creature accordingly threw her cloak about her, and made the best + of her way to see her grandchildren, both of whose parents had been swept + away by the first deadly ravages of the typhus fever. + </p> + <p> + She had not been long gone, when another tap was given, and Donnel, on + opening the door, said— + </p> + <p> + “You may come in now; she's off to Shanco. I didn't think it safe that she + should see us together on this night, at all events. Sit down. This girl's + illness has nearly spoiled all; however, we must only do the best we can. + Thank God the night's dark, that's one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “If we could a' had Dalton found guilty,” replied Body, “all would be well + over this night, an' we might be on our way out o' this to America; but + what 'ud you do wid Sarah if we had? Sure she wouldn't be able to travel, + nor she won't, I doubt, as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Sarah,” replied the Prophet, who suspected the object of the question, + “is well fit to take care of herself. We must only go without her, if + she's not able to come the day afther to-morrow. Where are the boys <i>for + the Grange?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Undher shelter of the Grey Stone, waitin' to start.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, as it it,” said Donnel, “they know their business, at any + rate. The Grange folk don't expect them this week to come, you think?” + </p> + <p> + Rody looked at the Prophet very keenly, as he thought of the conversation + that took place between himself and Charley Hanlon, and which, upon an + explanation with Donnel, he had detailed. The fellow, however, as we said, + was both cowardly and suspicious, and took it into his head that his + friend might feel disposed to play him a trick, by sending him to conduct + the burglary, of which Hanlon had spoken with such startling confidence—a + piece of cowardice which, indeed, was completely gratuitous and unfounded + on his part; the truth being, that it was the Prophet's interest, above + all things, to keep Rody out of danger, both for that worthy individual's + sake and his own. Rody, We say, looked at him; and of a certainty it must + be admitted, that the physiognomy of our friend, the Seer, during that + whole day, was one from which no very high opinion of his integrity or + good faith could be drawn. + </p> + <p> + “It's a very sthrange thing,” replied Rody, in a tone of thought and + reflection, “how Charley Hanlon came to know of this matther at all.” + </p> + <p> + “He never heard a word of it,” replied Donnel, “barrin' from yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “From me!” replied Rody, indignantly; “what do you mane by that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, when you went to sound him,” said Donnel, “you let too much out; and + Charley was too cute not to see what you wor at.” + </p> + <p> + “All <i>feathalagh</i> an' nonsense,” replied Eody, who, by the way, + entertained a very high opinion of his own sagacity; “no mortal could + suspect that there was a plot to rob the house from what I said; but + hould,” he added, slapping his knee, as if he had made a discovery, “<i>ma + chorp an' dioul</i>, but I have it all.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said the Prophet, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “You tould the matther to Sarah, an' she, by coorse, tould it to Charley + Hanlon, that she tells everything to.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing,” replied the other. “Sarah knows nothing about the robbery + that's to go on to-night at the Grange, but she did about the plan upon + Mave Sullivan, and promised to help us in it, as I tould you before.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/pageBP913.jpg" + alt="Page 913-- I'll Have Nothing to Do With This Robbery " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Well, at any rate,” replied Duncan, “I'll have nothing to do with this + robbery—devil a thing; but I'll make a bargain wid you—if you + manage the Grange business, I'll lend a hand in Mave Sullivan's affair.” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet looked at him, fastening his dark piercing eyes-upon his face— + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he proceeded, “you're suspicious or you're cowardly, or maybe + both; but to make you feel that I'm neither the one nor the other, and + that you have no raison to be so either, I say I'll take you at your word. + Do you manage Mave Sullivan's business, and I'll see what can be done with + the other. An' listen to me now, it's our business, in case of a discovery + of the robbery, to have Masther Dick's neck as far in the noose for Mave's + affair as ours may be for the other thing; an' for the same raison you + needn't care how far you drive him. He doesn't wish to have violence; but + do you take care that there will be violence, an' then maybe we may manage + him if there's a discovery in the other affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Donnel, you're a great headpiece—the divil's not so deep as you + are; but as the most of them all is strangers, an' they say there's two + girls in Sullivan's instead o' one, how will the strange boys know the + right one?” + </p> + <p> + “If it goes to that,” said the Prophet, “you'll know her by the clipped + head. The minute they seize upon the girl with the clipped head, let them + make sure of her. Poor foolish Tom Dalton, who knows nothing about our + scheme, thinks the visit is merely to frighten the Sullivans; but when you + get the girl, let her be brought to the crossroads of Tulnavert, where + Masther Dick will have a chaise waitin' for her, an' wanst she's with him + your care's over. In the meantime, while he's waitin' there, I an' the + others will see what can be done at the Grange.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, Donnel; you don't intend, surely, to leave poor Sarah behind + us?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Sarah?” returned the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Ay; bekaise you said so awhile a-gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I said so awhile ago; but regardin' Sarah, Rody, she's the only + livin' thing on this earth that I care about. I have hardened my heart, + thank God, against all the world but herself; an' although I have never + much showed it to her, an' although I have neglected her, an' sometimes + thought I hated her for her mother's sake—well, no matther—she's + the only thing I love or care about for all that. Oh! no—go wid-out + Sarah—come weal come woe—we must not.” + </p> + <p> + “Bekaise,” continued Rody, “when we're all safe, an' out o' the raich o' + danger, I have a thing to say to you about Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Rody,” said the Prophet, with a grim but bitter smile, “it'll + be time enough then. Now, go and manage these fellows, an' see you do + things as they ought to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “She's fond o' Charley Hanlon, to my own knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is?” + </p> + <p> + “Sarah, an' between you an' me, it's not a Brinoge like him that's fit for + her. She's a, hasty and an uncertain kind of a girl—:a good dale + wild or so—an' it isn't, as I said, the! likes o' that chap that 'id + answer her, but a steady, experienced, sober—” + </p> + <p> + “Honest man, Rody. Well, I'm not in a laughin' humor, now; be off, an' see + that you do yourself an' us all credit.” + </p> + <p> + When he was gone, the Prophet drew a long breath—one, however, from + its depth, evidently indicative of anything but ease of mind. He then + rose, and was preparing to go out, when Sarah, who had only laid herself + on the bed, without undressing, got up, and approaching him, said, in a + voice tremulous with weakness: + </p> + <p> + “Father, I have heard every word you and Rody said.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied her father, looking at her, “I supposed as much. I made no + secret of anything; however, keep to your bed—you're—” + </p> + <p> + “Father, I have changed my mind; you have neither my heart nor wish in + anything you're bent on this night.” + </p> + <p> + “Changed your mind!” replied the Prophet, bitterly. “Oh! you're a real + woman, I suppose, like your mother; you'll drive some unfortunate man to + hate the world an all that's in it yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, I care as little about the world as you do; but still never will + I lay myself out to do anything that's wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “You promised to assist us then in Mave Sullivan's business, for all + that,” he replied. “You can break your word, too. Ah! real woman again.” + </p> + <p> + “Sooner than keep that promise, father, now, I would willingly let the + last dhrop of blood out o' my heart—my unhappy heart—Father, + you're provin' yourself to be what I can't name. Listen to me—you're + on the brink o' destruction. Stop in time, an' fly, for there's a fate + over you. I dremt since I lay down—not more than a couple of hours + ago—that I saw the Tobacco Box you were lookin' for, in the hands of—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't bother or vex me with your d—d nonsense about dhrames,” he + replied, in a loud and excited voice. “The curse o' Heaven on all dhrames, + an' every stuff o' the kind. Go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + He slapped the door violently after him as he spoke, and left her to her + own meditations. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. — Self-sacrifice—Villany + </h2> + <p> + Time passes now as it did on the night recorded in the preceding chapter. + About the hour of two o'clock, on the same night, a chaise was standing at + the cross roads of Tulnavert, in which a gentleman, a little but not much + the worse of liquor, sat in a mood redolent of anything but patience. Many + ejaculations did he utter, and some oaths, in consequence of the delay of + certain parties whom he expected to meet there. At length the noise of + many feet was heard, and in the course of a few minutes a body of men + advanced in the darkness, one of whom approached the chaise, and asked—“Is + that Masther Dick?” + </p> + <p> + “Master Dick, sirrah: no, it's not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there must be some mistake,” replied the fellow, who was a stranger; + “and as it's a runaway match, by gorra, it would never do to give the girl + to the wrong person. It was Masther Dick that the Prophet desired us to + inquire for.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a mistake, my friend; there is—my name, my good fellow, + happens to be Master Richard, or rather Mister Richard. In all other + respects, everything is right. I expect a lady; and I am the gentleman, + but not Master Dick, though—Richard is the correct reading.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” replied the fellow, “here she is;” and whilst speaking, a + horseman, bearing a female before him, came forward, and in a few minutes + she was transferred without any apparent resistance, to the inside of the + vehicle which awaited her. This vehicle we shall now follow. + </p> + <p> + The night, as we said, was dark, but it was also cold and stormy. The + driver, who had received his instructions, proceeded in the direction of + the Grange; and we only I say so generally, because so many cross roads + branched off from that which they took, that it was impossible to say when + or where; Master or Mister Richard may have intended to stop. In the + meantime, that enterprising and gallant young gentleman commenced a + dialogue, somewhat as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Sullivan, I must be satisfied that these fellows have + conducted this business with all due respect to your feelings, I hope they + have not done anything to insult you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very weak,” replied the lady; “you needn't expect me to spake much, + for I'm not able. I only wish I was in Heaven, or anywhere out of this + world.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak as if you had been agitated or frightened; but compose + yourself, you are now under my protection at last, and you shall want for + nothing that can contribute to your ease and comfort. Upon my honor—upon + my sacred honor, I say—I would not have caused you even this + annoyance, were it not that you yourself expressed a willingness—very + natural, indeed, considering our affection—to meet me here + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Who tould you that I was willin' to meet you?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? why who but our mutual friend, the Black Prophet; and by the way, he + is to meet us at the Grey Stone, by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “He tould you false, then,” replied his companion, feebly. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” asked Henderson, “are you not here with your own consent?” + </p> + <p> + “I am—oh, indeed, I am,—it's altogether my own act that brings + me here—my own act—an' I thank God, that I had strength for + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Admirable girl!—that is just what I have been led to expect from + you, and you shall not regret it; I have, as I said, everything provided + that can make you happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy!—I can't bear this, sir; I'm desavin' you. I'm not what you + think me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are ill, I fear, my dear Miss Sullivan; the bustle and disturbance + have agitated you too much, and you are ill.” + </p> + <p> + “You are speaking truth. I am very ill; but I'll soon be better—I'll + soon be better. She feared nothing from me,” added she, in a low + soliloquy; “an' could I let her outdo mo in generosity and kindness. Is + this fire? Is there fire in the coach?” she asked, in a loud voice; “or is + it lighthnin'? Oh, my head, my head; but it will soon be over.” + </p> + <p> + “Compose yourself, I entreat of you, my dearest girl. What! good Heavens, + how is this? You have not been ill for any time? Your hand—pardon + me; you need not withdraw it so hastily—is quite burning and + fleshless. What is wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything, sir, is wrong, unless that I am here, an' that is as it ought + to be. Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Good, my dearest girl—that consoles me again. Upon my honor, the + old Prophet shall not lose by this; on the contrary, I shall keep my word + like a prince, and at the Grey Stone shall he pocket, ere half an hour, + the reward of his allegiance to his liege lord. I have, for a long time, + had my eye on you, Miss Sullivan, an' when the Prophet assured me that you + had discarded Dalton for my sake, I could scarcely credit him, until you + confirmed the delightful fact, by transmitting me a tress of your + beautiful hair.” + </p> + <p> + His companion made no reply to this, and the chaise went on for some + minutes without any further discourse. Henderson, at length, ventured to + put over his hand towards the corner in which his companion sat; but it no + sooner came in contact with her person, than he felt her shrinking, as it + were, from his very touch. With his usual complacent confidence, however, + in his own powers of attraction and strongly impressed, besides, with a + belief in his knowledge of the sex, he at once imputed all this to caprice + on the behalf of Mave, or rather to that assumption of extreme delicacy, + which is often resorted to, and overacted, when the truthful and modest + principle from which it should originate has ceased to exist. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear girl,” he proceeded, “I grant that all this is natural + enough—quite so—I know the step you have taken shows great + strength of character; for indeed it requires a very high degree of moral + courage and virtue in you, to set society and the whole world at perfect + defiance, for my sake; but, my dearest girl, don't be cast down—you + are not alone in this heroic sacrifice; not at all, believe me. You are + not the first who has made it for me; neither, I trust, shall you be the + last. This I say, of course, to encourage you, because I see that the step + you have taken has affected you very much, as is natural it should.” + </p> + <p> + A low moan, apparently of great pain, was the only reply Henderson + received to this eloquent effort at consolation. The carriage again rolled + onward in silence, and nothing could be heard but the sweep of the storm + without—for it blew violently—and deep breathings, or + occasional moanings, from his companion within. They drove, it might be, + for a quarter of an hour, in this way, when Henderson felt his companion + start, and the next moment her hand was placed upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! my dearest,” thought he, “I knew, notwithstanding all your + beautiful startings and fencings, that matters would come to this. There + is nothing, after all, like leaving you to yourselves a little, and you + are sure to come round. My dear Miss Sullivan,” he added, aloud, “be + composed—say but what it is you wish, and if a man can accomplish + it, it must be complied with, or procured for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said she, “if you are a human being, let me know when we come to + the Grey Stone.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly, I shall. The grim old Prophet promised to meet us there—and, + for a reason I have, I know he will keep his word. We shall be there in + less than a quarter of an hour. But, my precious creature, now that you + understand how we are placed with relation to each other, I think you + might not, and ought not, object to allowing me to support you after the + fatigue and agitation of the night—hem! Do repose your head upon my + bosom, like a pretty, trembling, agitated dear, as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Hould away!” exclaimed his companion; “don't dare to lay a hand upon me. + If your life is worth anything—an' it's not worth much—keep + your distance. You'll find your mistake soon. I didn't put myself in your + power without the manes of defendin' myself an' punishin' you, if you + should desarve it.” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful caprice! But, my dearest girl, I can understand it all—it + is well done; and I know, besides, that a little hysterics will be + necessary in their proper place; but for that you must wait till we get to + our destination; and then you will be most charmingly affected with a fit—a + delightful, sweet, soft, sobbing fit—which will render it necessary + for me to soothe and console you; to wipe your lovely eyes; and then, you + know, to kiss your delicious lips. All this, my darling girl, will happen + as a natural consequence, and in due time every thing will be well.” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply given to this; but the moaning was deeper, and + apparently more indicative of pain and distress than before. A third + silence ensued, during which they arrived at the Grey Stone, of whose + proximity the driver had received orders to give them intimation. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” exclaimed Henderson, “what's the matter? Why do you stop, my good + fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “We are at the Grey Stone, your honor,” replied the man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well; pull up a moment,” he added. “My dear Miss Sullivan, we + are at the Grey Stone now,” said he, addressing her. + </p> + <p> + She moaned again, and started. “Whist,” said she; “I don't hear his + voice.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a man approached the driver, and desired him to let him + know that a person wished to speak with him. + </p> + <p> + The female in the carriage no sooner heard the voice, even although the + words were uttered in whispers, than she called out— + </p> + <p> + “Father, come to me—help me home—I'm dyin'! You've been + desaved, Mr. Henderson,” she added. “It wasn't Mave Sullivan, but the + Prophet's own daughter, you took away. Blessed be God, I've saved her that + disgrace. Father, help me home. I won't be long a throuble to you now.” + </p> + <p> + “What's this!” exclaimed Henderson. “Are you not Miss Sullivan?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I in a dhrame?” said the Prophet, approaching the door of the chaise. + “Surely—now—what is it? It's my daughter's voice! Is that + Sarah that I left in her bed of typhus faver this night? Or, am I in a + dhrame still, I say? Sarah, is it you? Spake.” + </p> + <p> + “It is me, father; help me home. It will be your last throuble with me, I + think—at laste, I hope so—oh, I hope so!” + </p> + <p> + “Who talks about typhus fever?” asked Henderson, starting out of the + chaise with alarm. “What means this? Explain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I can no more explain it,” replied the Prophet, “than you can. I left my + daughter lyin' in bed of typhus faver, not more than three or four hours + ago; an' if I'm to believe my ears, I find her in the carriage with you + now!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm here,” she replied; “help me out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see it all now,” observed Henderson, in a fit of passion, + aggravated by the bitterness of his disappointment—“I see your + trick; an' so, you old scoundrel, you thought to impose your termagant + daughter upon me instead of Miss Sullivan, and she reeking with typhus + fever, too, by your own account. For this piece of villany I shall settle + with you, however, never fear. Typhus fever! Good God!—and I so + dreadfully afraid of it all along, that I couldn't bear to look near a + house in which it was, nor approach any person even recovering out of it. + Driver, you may leave the girl at home. As for me, I shall not enter your + chaise again, contaminated, as it probably is, with that dreadful + complaint, that is carrying off half the country. Call to the Grange in + the morning, an' you shall be paid. Good-night, you prophetical old + impostor. I shall mark you for this piece of villany; you may rest assured + of that. A pretty trudge I shall have to the Grange, such a vile and + tempestuous night; but you shall suffer for it, I say again.” + </p> + <p> + Donnel Dhu was not merely disappointed at finding Sarah in such a + situation; he was literally stupefied with amazement, and could scarcely + believe the circumstances to be real. It had been agreed between him and + Henderson, that should the latter succeed in fetching Mave Sullivan as far + as the Grey Stone, he (the Prophet) should be considered to have fulfilled + the conditions of the compact entered into between them, and the wages of + his iniquity were to have been paid to him on that spot. It is unnecessary + to say, therefore, that his disappointment and indignation were fully + equal to those of Henderson himself. + </p> + <p> + “Where am I to go now?” asked the driver. + </p> + <p> + “To hell!” replied the Prophet, “an you may bring your fare with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You must take the reins yourself, then,” replied the man, “for I don't + know the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Drive across the river, here then,” continued the other, “and up the + little road to the cottage on the right; yes, to the right—till we + get that—that—I can't find words to name her—in the + house.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes brought them to the door, and poor Sarah found herself once + more in her own cabin, but in such a state as neutralized most of her + father's resentment. When the driver had gone, Donnel came in again, and + was about to wreak upon her one of those fits of impetuous fury, in which, + it was true, he seldom indulged, but which, when wrought to a high state + of passion, were indeed frightful. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he began, “in the name of all that's”—he paused, however, for + on looking closely at her, there appeared something in her aspect so + utterly subversive of resentment, that he felt himself disarmed at once. + Her face was as pale as his own, but the expression of it was so chaste, + so mournful, and yet so beautiful, that his tongue refused its office. + </p> + <p> + “Sarah,” said he, “what is the matter with, you?—account for all + this—I don't understand it.” + </p> + <p> + She rose with great difficulty, and, tottering over towards him, laid her + head upon his bosom, and looking up with a smile of melancholy tenderness + into his face, burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, “it is not worth your while to be angry with Sarah + now. I heard words from your lips this night that would make me forgive + you a thousand crimes. I heard you say that you loved me—loved me + better than anything else in this world. I'm glad I know it, for that will + be all the consolation I will have on my bed of death—an' there it + is, father,” she said, pointing to that which she always occupied; “help + me over to it now, for I feel that I will never rise from it more.” + </p> + <p> + Her father spoke not, but assisted her to the bed from which the old + nurse, who had fallen asleep in it, now rose. He then went into the open + air for a few minutes, but soon returned, and going over to the bedside + where she lay, he looked upon her long and earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said she, “I only did my duty this night. I knew, indeed, I + would never recover it—but then she risked her life for me, an' why + shouldn't I do as much for her?” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet still looked upon her, but spoke not a word; his lips were + closely compressed, his hands tightly clasped, and his piercing eyes + almost immovable. Minute after minute thus passed, until nearly half an + hour had elapsed, and Sarah dreadfully exhausted by what she had + undergone, found her eyes beginning to close in an unsettled and feverish + slumber. At length he said, in a tone of voice which breathed of + tenderness itself— + </p> + <p> + “Sleep, dear Sarah—dear Sarah, sleep.” + </p> + <p> + She apparently was asleep, but not so as to be altogether unconscious of + his words, for, in spite of illness and fatigue, a sweet and serene smile + stole gently over her pale face, rested on it for a little, and again, + gradually, and with a mournful placidity died away. Her father sighed + deeply, and turning to the bedside, said— + </p> + <p> + “It is useless to ask her anything this night, Biddy. Can you tell me what + became of her, or how she got out?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the sorra word,” replied the old woman; “I'm sure such a start was + never taken out o' mortal as I got when I came here, and found her gone. I + searched all the neighborhood, but no use—divil a sowl seen her—so + afther trottin' here an' there, an' up and down, I came in not able to + mark the ground, and laid myself down on the bed, where I fell asleep till + you came back; but where, in the name of all that's wonderful, was she?” + </p> + <p> + Donnel sat down in silence, and the crone saw that he was in no mood for + answering questions, or entering into conversation; she accordingly + clapped herself on her hunkers, and commenced sucking her dudeen, without + at all seeming to expect a reply. + </p> + <p> + We, however, shall avail ourselves of the historian's privilege, in order + to acquaint our readers, very briefly, with that, of which we presume, so + far as Sarah is concerned, they can scarcely plead ignorance. Having heard + the conversation between Rody Duncan and her father, which satisfied her + that the plot for taking away Mave Sullivan was to be executed that very + night, Sarah, with her usual energy and disregard for herself, resolved to + make an effort to save her generous rival, for we must here acquaint our + readers, that during the progress of her convalescence, she had been able + to bring to her recollection the presence of Mave Sullivan in the shed on + more than one occasion. She did not, however, depend upon her own memory + or impressions for this, but made inquiries from her nurse, who, in common + with the whole neighborhood, had heard of Mave's humanity and attention + towards her, to which it was well known, she owed her life. The generous + girl, therefore, filled with remorse at having, for one moment, + contemplated any act of injury towards Mave, now determined to save her + from the impending danger, or lose her life in the attempt. How she won + her way in such an enfeebled state of health, and on such a night, cannot + now be known; it is sufficient here to say, that she arrived only a few + minutes before the attack was made upon Sullivan's house, and just in time + to have Mave and her cousin each concealed under a bed. Knowing, however, + that a strict search would have rendered light of some kind necessary, and + enable the ruffians to discover Mave besides, she, at once, threw herself + in their way, under a feigned attempt to escape, and the next moment three + or four voices exclaimed, exultingly, “we have her—the cropped head—here + she is—all's right—come away; you darlin', you'll be a happy + girl before this day week!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” she replied; “oh, I hope so—bring me away!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet's own adventure was not less disastrous. Rody Duncan's sudden + withdrawal from the robbery surprised him very much. On seriously and + closely reconsidering the circumstances, it looked suspicious, and ere a + single hour had passed, Donnel felt and impression that, on that business + at least, Rody had betrayed him. Acting upon this conviction.—for it + amounted to that—he soon satisfied himself that the house was + secured against, the possibility of any successful attack upon it. This he + discovered in the village of Grange, when, on inquiring, he found that + most of the young men were gone to sit up all night in the “big house”. So + much being known, any additional information to Donnel was unnecessary. He + accordingly relinquished the enterprise; and remembering the engagement + with young Henderson at the Grey Stone, met him there, to receive the + wages of his iniquity; but with what success, the reader is already + acquainted. + </p> + <p> + This double failure of his projects, threw the mind of the Prophet into a + train of deep and painful reflection. He began to reflect that his views + of life and society might not, after all, be either the safest or the + best. He looked back over his own past life, and forward to the future, + and he felt as if the shadow of some approaching evil was over him. He + then thought of his daughter, and pictured to himself what she might have + been, had he discharged, as he ought to have done, the duties of a + Christian parent towards her. This, and other recollections, pressed upon + Mm, and his heart was once or twice upon the point of falling back into + the fresh impulses of its early humanity, when the trial of tomorrow threw + him once more into a gloom, that settled him down into a resentful but + unsatisfactory determination to discharge the duty he had imposed upon + himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. — A Double Trial—Retributive Justice. + </h2> + <p> + With beating and anxious hearts did the family of the Daltons rise upon + the gloomy morning of the old man's trial. Deep concern prevented them + from eating, or even feeling inclined to eat; but when about to sit down + to their early and sorrowful repast, Mrs. Dalton, looking around her, + asked— + </p> + <p> + “Where is poor Tom from us this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “He went out last night,” replied one of his sisters, “but didn't come + back since.” + </p> + <p> + “That poor boy,” said his mother, “won't be long with us; he's gone every + way—health and strength, and reason. He has no appetite—and a + child has more strength. After this day he must be kept in the house, if + possible, or looked to when he goes out; but indeed I fear that in a day + or two he will not be able to go anywhere. Poor affectionate boy! he never + recovered the death of that unhappy girl, nor ever will; an' it would be + well for himself that he was removed from this world, in which, indeed, + he's now not fit to live.” + </p> + <p> + Little time was lost in the despatch of their brief meal, and they set + out, with the exception of Mary, to be present at the trail of their aged + father. + </p> + <p> + The court was crowded to excess, as was but natural, for the case had + excited a very deep interest throughout almost the whole country. + </p> + <p> + At length the judge was seated, and in a few minutes Cornelius Dalton was + put to the bar, charged with the wilful murder of Bartholomew Sullivan, by + striking him on the head with a walking-stick, in the corner of a field, + near a place called the Grey Stone, &c, &c, situate and being in + the barony of, &c, &c. + </p> + <p> + When the reverend looking old man stood up at the bar, we need scarcely + say that all eyes were immediately turned on him with singular interest. + It was clear, however, that there was an admission of guilt in his very + face, for, instead of appearing with the erect and independent attitude of + conscious innocence, he looked towards the judge and around the court with + an expression of such remorse and sorrow, and his mild blue eye had in it + a feeling so full of humility, resignation and contrition, that it was + impossible to look on his aged figure and almost white hairs with + indifference, or, we should rather say, without sympathy. Indeed, his case + appeared to be one of those in which the stern and unrelenting decree of + human law comes to demand its rights, long after the unhappy victim has + washed away his crime by repentance, and made his peace with God, a + position in connection with conventional offences that is too often + overlooked in the administration of justice and the distribution of + punishment. + </p> + <p> + It was not without considerable difficulty that they succeeded in + prevailing on him to plead not guilty; which he did at length, but in a + tone of voice that conveyed anything but a conviction of his innocence to + the court, the jury, and those about him. + </p> + <p> + The first witness called was Jeremiah Sullivan, who deposed that he was + present in one of the Christmas Margamores [Big Market] in the year 1798, + when an altercation took place between his late brother Bartle and the + prisoner at the bar, respecting the price of some barley, which the + prisoner had bought from his brother. The prisoner had bought it, he said, + for the sum of thirty-five pounds fifteen shillings, whilst his brother + affirmed that it was only thirty-five pounds thirteen shillings—upon + which they came to blows; his brother, when struck by the prisoner, having + returned the blow, and knocked the prisoner down. They were then separated + by their friends, who interposed, and, as the cause of the dispute was so + trifling, it was proposed that it should be spent in drink, each + contributing one-half. To this both assented, and the parties having + commenced drinking, did not confine themselves to the amount disputed, but + drank on until they became somewhat tipsy, and were, with difficulty, kept + from quarrelling again. The last words he heard from them that night were, + as far as he can remember—“Dalton,” said his brother, “you have no + more brains than the pillar of a gate.” Upon which the other attempted to + strike him, and, on being prevented, he shook his stick at him, and swore + that “before he slept he'd know whether he had brains or not.” Their + friends then took them different ways, he was separated from them, and + knows nothing further about what happened. He never saw his brother alive + afterwards. He then deposed to the finding of his coat and hat, each in a + crushed and torn state. The footmarks in the corner of the field were + proved to have been those of his brother and the prisoner, as the shoes of + each exactly fitted them when tried. He was then asked how it could be + possible, as his brother had altogether disappeared, to know whether his + shoes fitted the foot-prints or not, to which he replied, that one of his + shoes was found on the spot the next morning, and that a second pair, + which he had at home, were also tried, and fitted precisely. + </p> + <p> + The next witness was Rody Duncan, who deposed that on the night in + question, he was passing on a car, after having sold a load of oats in the + market. On coming to the corner of the field, he saw a man drag or carry + something heavy like a sack, which, on seeing him, Rody, he (the man,) + left hastily inside the ditch, and stooped, as if to avoid being known. He + asked the person what he was about, who replied that, “he hoped he was no + gauger;” by which he understood that he was concerned in private + distillation, and that it might have been malt; an opinion in which he was + confirmed, on hearing the man's voice, which he knew to be that of the + prisoner, who had been engaged in the poteen work for some years. One + thing struck him, which he remembered afterwards, that the prisoner had a + hat in his hand; and when it was observed in the cross-examination that + the hat might have been his own, he replied that he did not think it + could, as he had his own on his head at the time. He then asked was that + Condy Dalton, and the reply was, “it is, unfortunately;” upon which he + wished him good-night, and drove homewards. He remembers the night well, + as he lived at that time down at the Long Ridge, and caught a severe + illness on his way home, by reason of a heavy shower that wet him to the + skin. He wasn't able to leave the house for three months afterwards. It + was an unlucky night any way. + </p> + <p> + Next came the Prophet. It was near daybreak on the morning of the same + night, and he was on his way through Glendhu. He was then desired to state + what it was that brought him through Glendhu at such an hour. He would + tell the truth, as it was safe to do so now—he had been making + United Irishmen that night, and, at all events, he was on his keeping, for + the truth was, he had been reported to government, and there was a warrant + out for him. He was then desired to proceed in his evidence, and he did + so. On his way through Glendhu he came to a very lonely spot, where he had + been obliged to hide, at that time, more than once or twice, himself. + Here, to his surprise, he found the body of a man lying dead, and he knew + it at once to be that of the late Bartholomew Sullivan; beside it was a + grave dug, about two feet deep. He was astonished and shocked, and knew + not what to say; but he felt that murder had been committed, and he became + dreadfully afraid. In his confusion and alarm he looked about to try if he + could see any person near, when he caught a glimpse of the prisoner, Condy + Dalton, crouched among a clump of black-thorn bushes, with a spade in his + hands. It instantly came into his head that he, the prisoner, on finding + himself discovered, might murder him also; and, in order to prevent the + other from supposing that he had seen him, he shouted out and asked is + there any body near? and hearing no answer, he was glad to get off safe. + In less than an hour he was on his way out of the country, for on coming + within sight of his own house, he saw it surrounded with soldiers, and he + lost no time in going to England, where, in about a month afterwards, he + heard that the prisoner had been hanged for the murder, which was an + untrue account of the affair, as he, the prisoner, had only been + imprisoned for a time, which he supposed led to the report. + </p> + <p> + When asked why he did not communicate an account of what he had seen to + some one in the neighborhood before he went, he replied, that “at that + hour the whole country was in bed, and when a man is flying for his life, + he is not very anxious to hould conversations with any body.” + </p> + <p> + On the cross-examination he said, that the reason why he let the matter + rest until now was, that he did not wish to be the means of bringin' a + fellow-creature to an untimely death, especially such a man as the + prisoner, nor to be the means of drawing down disgrace upon his decent and + respectable family. His conscience, however, always kept him uneasy, and + to tell the truth, he had neither peace nor rest for many a long year, in + consequence of concealing his knowledge of the murder, and he now came + forward to free his own mind from what he had suffered by it. He wished + both parties well, and he hoped no one would blame him for what he was + doing, for, indeed, of late, he could not rest in his bed at night. Many a + time the murdhered man appeared to him, and threatened him, he thought for + not disclosing what he knew. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, there was a slight bustle at that side of the court where + the counsel for the defense sat, which, after a little time, subsided, and + the evidence was about to close, when the latter gentleman, after having + closely cross-examined him to very little purpose, said: + </p> + <p> + “So you tell us, that in consequence of your very tender conscience, you + have not, of late, been able to rest in your bed at night?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say the murdered man appeared to you and threatened you?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Which of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Peter Magennis—what am I sayin'? I mean Bartle Sullivan.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen of the jury, you will please take down the name of Peter + Magennis—will your lordship also take a note of that? Well,” he + proceeded, “will you tell us what kind of a man this Bartle or Bartholomew + Sullivan was?” + </p> + <p> + “He was a very remarkable man in appearance; very stout, with a long face, + a slight scar on his chin, and a cast in his eye.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember which of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I don't, an' it wouldn't be raison able that I should, afther sich + a distance of time.” + </p> + <p> + “And, you saw that man murdered?” + </p> + <p> + “I seen him dead, afther having been murdhered.” + </p> + <p> + “Very right—I stand corrected. Well, you saw him buried?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't see him buried, but I saw him dead, as I said, an' the grave + ready for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think now if he were to rise again from that grave, that you would + know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well I'm sure I can't say. By all accounts the grave makes great changes, + but if it didn't change him very much entirely, it wouldn't be hard to + know him again—for, as I said, he was a remarkable man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, we shall give you an opportunity of refreshing your memory—here,” + he said, addressing himself to some person behind him; “come forward—get + up on the table, and stand face to face with that man.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger advanced—pushed over to the corner of the table, and, + mounting it, stood, as he had been directed, confronting the Black + Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Whether you seen me dead,” said the stranger, “or whether you seen me + buried, is best known to yourself; all I can say is, that here I am—by + name Bartle Sullivan, alive an' well, thanks be to the Almighty for it!” + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” asked the judge, addressing Dalton's counsel; “who is this + man?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” replied that gentleman, “this is the individual for the murder + of whom, upon the evidence of these two villains, the prisoner at the bar + stands charged. It is a conspiracy as singular as it is diabolical; but + one which, I trust, we shall clear up, by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess, I do not see my way through it at present,” returned the + judge; “did not the prisoner at the bar acknowledge his guilt?—had + you not some difficulty in getting him to plead not guilty? Are you sure, + Mr. O'Hagan, that this stranger is not a counterfeit?” + </p> + <p> + The reply of counsel could not now be heard—hundreds in the court + house, on hearing his name, and seeing him alive and well before them, at + once recognized his person, and testified their recognition by the usual + manifestations of wonder, satisfaction and delight. The murmur, in fact, + gradually gained strength, and deepened until it fairly burst forth in one + loud and astounding cheer, and it was not, as usual, until the judge had + threatened to commit the first person who should again disturb the court, + that it subsided. There were two persons present, however, to whom we must + direct the special attention of our readers—we mean Condy Dalton and + the Prophet, on both of whom Sullivan's unexpected appearance produced + very opposite effects. When old Dalton first noticed the strange man + getting upon the table, the appearance of Sullivan, associated, as it had + been, by the language of his counsel, with some vague notion of his + resurrection from the grave, filled his mind with such a morbid and + uncertain feeling of everything about him that he began to imagine himself + in a dream, and that his reason must soon awaken to the terrible reality + of his situation. A dimness of perception, in fact, came ever all his + faculties, and for some minutes he could not understand the nature of the + proceedings around him. The reaction was too sudden for a mind that had + been broken down so long, and harrassed so painfully, by impressions of + remorse and guilt. The consequence was, that he had forgot, for a time, + the nature of his situation—all appeared unintelligible confusion + about him,—he could see a multitude of faces, and the people, all + agitated by some great cause of commotion, and that was, then, all he + could understand about it. + </p> + <p> + “What is this,” said he to himself;—“am I on my trial?—or is + it some dhrame that I'm dhramin' at home in my own poor place among my + heart-broken family?” + </p> + <p> + A little time, however, soon undeceived him, and awoke his honest heart to + a true perception of his happiness. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said the strange man, in reply to the judge's last observation, + “I am no counterfeit—an' I thank my good an' gracious God that I + have been able to come in time to save this worthy and honest man's life. + Condy Dalton,” said he, “I can explain all; but in the mane time let me + shake hands wid you, and ax your pardon for the bad tratement and + provocation I gave you on that unlucky day—well may I say so, so far + as you are concerned—for, as I hear, an' as I see, indeed, it has + caused you and your family bitter trouble and sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle Sullivan! Merciful Father, is this all right? is it real? No + dhrame, then! an' I have my ould friend by the hand—let me see—let + me feel you!—it is—it's truth—but, there now—I + don't care who sees me—I must offer one short prayer of thanksgivin' + to my marciful God, who has released me from the snares of my enemies, an' + taken this great weight off o' my heart!” As he-spoke, he elapsed his + hands, looked up with an expression of deep and heartfelt gratitude to + heaven, then knelt down in a corner of the dock, and returned thanks to + God. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, on beholding the man, stood more in surprise than + astonishment, and seemed evidently filled more with mortification rather + than wonder. He looked around the court with great calmness, and then + fastening his eyes upon Sullivan, studied, or I appeared to study, his + features for a considerable time. A shadow so dark or we should rather + say, so fearfully black settled upon his countenance, that it gave him an + almost supernatural aspect; it looked in fact, as if the gloom of his fate + had fallen upon him in the midst of his plans and iniquities. He seemed, + for a moment, to feel this himself; for while the confusion and murmurs + were spreading through the court, he muttered to himself— + </p> + <p> + “I am doomed; I did this, as if something drove me to it; however, if I + could only be sure that the cursed box was really lost, I might laugh at + the world still.” + </p> + <p> + He then looked around him with singular composure, and ultimately at the + judge, as if to ascertain whether he might depart or not. At this moment, + a pale, sickly-looking female, aided, or rather supported, by the Pedlar + and Hanlon, was in the act of approaching the place where Dalton's + attorney stood, as if to make some communication to him, when a scream was + heard, followed by the exclamation— + </p> + <p> + “Blessed Heaven! it's himself!—it's himself!” + </p> + <p> + Order and silence were immediately called by the crier, but the Prophet's + eyes had been already attracted to the woman, who was no other than + Hanlon's aunt, and for some time he looked at her with an apparent + sensation of absolute terror. Gradually, however, his usual indomitable + hardness of manner returned to him; he still kept his gaze fixed upon her, + as if to make certain that there could be no mistake, after which his + countenance assumed an expression of rage and malignity that no language + could describe; his teeth became absolutely locked, as if he could have + ground her between them, and his eyes literally blazed with fury, that + resembled that of a rabid beast of prey. The shock was evidently more than + the woman could bear, who, still supported by the Pedlar and Planlon, + withdrew in a state almost bordering on insensibility. + </p> + <p> + A very brief space now determined the trial. Sullivan's brother and + several of the jurors themselves clearly established his identity, and as + a matter of course, Condy Dalton was instantly discharged. His appearance + in the street was hailed by the cheers and acclamations of the people, who + are in general delighted with the acquittal of a fellow-creature, unless + under circumstances of very atrocious criminality. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I may go down,” said the Prophet,—“you have done with + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly,” replied Dalton's counsel. + </p> + <p> + “Let these two men be taken into custody,” said the judge, “and let an + indictment for perjury be prepared against them, and sent to the grand + jury forthwith.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” proceeded the counsel, “we are, we think, in a capacity to + establish a much graver charge against M'Gowan—a charge of murder, + my lord, discovered, under circumstances little short of providential.” + </p> + <p> + In short, not to trouble the reader with, the dry details of the courts, + after some discussion, it was arranged that two bills should be prepared + and sent up—one for perjury, and the other for the murder of a + carman, named Peter Magennis, almost at the very spot where it had, until + then, been supposed that poor Dalton had murdered Bartholomew Sullivan. + The consequence was, that Donnel, or Donald M'Gowan, the Black Prophet, + found himself in the very dock where Dalton had stood the preceding day. + His case, whether as regarded the perjury or the murder, was entitled to + no clemency, beyond that which the letter of the law strictly allowed. The + judge assigned him counsel, with whom he was permitted to communicate; and + he himself, probably supposing that his chance of escape was then greater + than if more time were allowed to procure and arrange evidence against + him, said he was ready and willing, without further notice, to be brought + to trial. + </p> + <p> + We beg to observe here, that we do not strictly confine ourselves to the + statements made during the trial, inasmuch as we deem it necessary to + mention circumstances to the reader, which the rules of legitimate + evidence would render inadmissable in a court of justice. We are not + reporting the case, and consequently hold ourselves warranted in adding + whatever may be necessary to making it perfectly clear, or in withholding + circumstances that did not bear upon our narrative. With this proviso, we + now proceed to detail the denouement. + </p> + <p> + The first evidence against him, was that of our female friend, whom we + have called the Widow Hanlon, but who, in fact, was no other than the + Prophet's wife, and sister to the man Magennis, whom he had murdered. The + Prophet's real name, she stated, was M'Ivor, but why he changed it, she + knew not. He had been a man, in the early part of his life, of rather a + kind and placid disposition, unless when highly provoked, and then his + resentments were terrible. He was all his life, however, the slave of a + dark and ever-wakeful jealousy, that destroyed his peace, and rendered his + life painful both to himself and others. It happened that her brother, the + murdered man, had prosecuted M'Ivor for taking forcible possession of a + house, for which he, M'Ivor, received twelve months' imprisonment. It + happened also about that time, that is, a little before the murder, that + he had become jealous of her and a neighbor, who had paid his addresses to + her before marriage. M'Ivor, at this period, acted in the capacity of a + plain Land Surveyor among the farmers and cottiers of the barony, and had + much reputation for his exactness and accuracy. While in prison, he vowed + deadly vengeance against her brother, Magennis, and swore, that if ever + she spoke to him, acknowledged him, or received him into her house during + his life, she should never live another day under his roof. + </p> + <p> + In this state matters were, when her brother, having heard that her + husband was in a distant part of the barony, surveying, or subdividing a + farm, came to ask her to her sister's wedding, and while in the house, the + Prophet, most unexpectedly, was discovered, within a few perches of the + door, on his return. Terror, on her part, from a dread of his violence, + and also an apprehension lest he and her brother should meet, and, + perhaps, seriously injure each other, even to bloodshed, caused her to + hurry the latter into another room, with instructions to get out of the + window as quietly as possible, and to go home. Unfortunately he did so, + but had scarcely escaped, when a poor mendicant woman, coming in to ask + alms, exclaimed—“Take care, good people, that you have not been + robbed—I saw a man comin' out of the windy, and runnin' over toward + Jemmy Campel's house”—Campel being the name of the young man of whom + her husband was jealous. + </p> + <p> + M'Ivor, now furious, ran towards Campel's, and meeting that person's + servant-maid at the door, asked “if her master was at home.” + </p> + <p> + She replied, “Yes, he just came in this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “What direction did he come from?” + </p> + <p> + “From the direction of your own house,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + It should be stated, however, that his wife, at once recollecting his + jealousy, told him immediately that the person who had left the house was + her brother; but he rushed on, and paid no attention whatsoever to her + words. + </p> + <p> + From this period forward he never lived with her, but she has heard + recently—no longer ago than last night—that he had associated + himself with a woman named Eleanor M'Guirk, about thirty miles farther + west from their original neighborhood, near a place called Glendhu, and it + was at that place her brother was murdered. + </p> + <p> + Neither her anxieties nor her troubles, however, ended here. When her + husband left her, he took a daughter, their only child, then almost an + infant, away with him, and contrived to circulate a report that he and she + had gone to America. After her return home, she followed her nephew to + this neighborhood, and that accounted for her presence there. So well, + indeed, did he manage this matter, that she received a very contrite and + affectionate letter, that had been sent, she thought, from Boston, + desiring her to follow himself and the child there. The deceit was + successful. Gratified at the prospect of joining them, she made the due + preparations, and set sail. It is unnecessary to say, that on arriving at + Boston she could get no tidings whatsoever of either the one or the other; + but as she had some relations in the place, she found them out, and + resided there until within a few months ago, when she set sail for + Ireland, where she arrived only a short time previous to the period of the + trial. She has often heard M'Ivor say that he would settle accounts with + her brother some fine night, but he usually added, “I will take my time + and kill two birds with one stone when I go about it,” by which she + thought he meant robbing him, as well as murdering him, as her brother was + known mostly to have a good deal of money about him. + </p> + <p> + We now add here, although the fact was not brought out until a later stage + of the trial, that she proved the identity of the body found in Glendhu, + as being that of her brother, very clearly. His right leg had been broken, + and having been mismanaged, was a little crooked, which occasioned him to + have a slight halt in his walk. The top joint also of the second toe, on + the same foot had been snapped off by the tramp of a horse, while her + brother was a schoolboy—two circumstances which were corroborated by + the Coroner, and one or two of those who had examined the body at the + previous inquest, and which they could then attribute only to injuries + received during his rude interment, but which were now perfectly + intelligible and significant. + </p> + <p> + The next witness called was Bartholemew Sullivan, who deposed— + </p> + <p> + That about a month before his disappearance from the country, he was one + night coming home from a wake, and within half a mile of the Grey Stone he + met a person, evidently a carman, accompanying a horse and cart, who bade + him the time of night as he passed. He noticed that the man had a slight + halt as he walked, but could not remember his face, although the night was + by no means dark. On passing onwards, towards home, he met another person + walking after the carman, who, on seeing him (Sullivan) hastily threw some + weapon or other into the ditch. The hour was about three o'clock in the + night (morning,) and on looking close at the man, for he seemed to follow + the other in a stealthy way, he could only observe that he had a very pale + face, and heavy black eyebrows; indeed he has little doubt but that the + prisoner is the man, although he will not actually swear it after such a + length of time. + </p> + <p> + This was the evidence given by Bartholomew Sullivan. + </p> + <p> + The third witness produced was Theodosius M'Mahon, or, as he was better + known, Toddy Mack, the Pedlar, who deposed to the fact of having, + previously to his departure for Boston, given to Peter Magennis a present + of a steel tobacco-box as a keep-sake, and as the man did not use tobacco, + he said, on putting it into his pocket— + </p> + <p> + “This will do nicely to hould my money in, on my way home from Dublin.” + </p> + <p> + Upon which Toddy Mack observed, laughingly— + </p> + <p> + “That if he put either silver or brass in it, half the country would know + it by the jingle.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take care of that, never fear,” replied Magennis, “for I'll put + nothing in this, but the soft, comfortable notes.” + </p> + <p> + He was asked if the box had any particular mark by which it might be + known? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he had himself punched upon the lid of it the initials of the person + to whom he gave it—P. M., for Peter Magennis.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you know the box if you saw it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that it?” asked the prosecuting attorney, placing the box in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + “That is the same box I gave him, upon my oath. It's a good deal rusted + now, but there's the holes as I punched them; and by the same token, there + is the letter P., the very place yet where the two holes broke into one, + as I was punchin' it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, how did the box come to turn up?” asked the judge:—“In whose + possession has it been ever since?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, we have just come to that. Crier, call Eleanor M'Guirk.” + </p> + <p> + The woman hitherto known as Nelly M'Gowan, and supposed to be the + Prophet's wife now made her appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Will you state to the gentlemen of the jury what you know about this + box?” + </p> + <p> + Our readers are partially aware of her evidence with respect to it. We + shall, however, briefly recapitulate her account of the circumstance. + </p> + <p> + “The first time she ever saw it,” she said, “was the night the carman was + murdered, or that he disappeared, at any rate. She resided by herself, in + a little house at the mouth of the Glendhu—the same she and the + Prophet had lived in ever since. They had not long been acquainted at that + time—but still longer than was right or proper. She had been very + little in the country then, and any time he did come was principally at + night, when he stopped with her, and went away again, generally before day + in the morning. He passed himself on her as an unmarried man, and said his + name was M'Gowan. On that evening he came about dusk, but went out again, + and she did not see him till far in the night, when he returned, and + appeared to be fatigued and agitated—his clothes, too, were soiled + and crumpled, especially the collar of his shirt, which was nearly torn + off, as in a struggle of some kind. She asked him what was the matter with + him, and said he looked as if he had been fighting.” He replied— + </p> + <p> + “No, Nelly; but I've killed two birds with one stone this night.” + </p> + <p> + She asked him what he meant by those words, but he would give her no + further information. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give no explanation,” said he, “but this;” and turning his back to + her, he opened a tobacco-box, which, by stretching her neck, she saw + distinctly, and, taking out a roll of bank notes, he separated one from + the rest, and handing it to her, exclaimed—“there's all the + explanation you can want; a close mouth, Nelly, is the sign of a + wise-head, an' by keepin' a close mouth, you'll get more explanations of + this kind. Do you understand that?” said he. “I do,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” he observed “let that be the law and gospel between + us.” + </p> + <p> + When he fell asleep, she got up, and looking at the box, saw that it was + stuffed with bank notes, had a broken hinge—the hinge was freshly + broken—and something like two letters on the lid of it. + </p> + <p> + “She then did not see it,” she continued, “until some weeks ago, when his + daughter and herself having had a quarrel, in which the girl cut her—she + (his daughter) on stretching up for some cobwebs on the wall to stanch the + bleeding, accidentally pulled the box out of a crevice, in which it had + been hid. About this time,” she added, “the prisoner became very restless + at night, indeed, she might say by day and night, and after a good deal of + gloomy ill temper, he made inquiries for it, and on hearing that it had + again appeared, even threatened her life if it were not produced.” She + closed her evidence by stating that she had secreted it, but could tell + nothing of its ultimate and mysterious disappearance. + </p> + <p> + Hanlon's part in tracing the murder is already known, we presume, to the + reader. He dreamt, but his dream was not permitted to go to the jury, that + his father came to him, and said, that if he repaired to the Grey Stone, + at Glendhu, on a night which he named, at the hour of twelve o'clock, he + would get such a clue to his murder as would enable him to bring his + murderer to justice. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the son, then, of the man who is said to have been murdered?” + asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “He was his son,” he replied, “and came first to that part of the country + in consequence of having been engaged in a Party fight in his native + place. It seems a warrant had been issued against him and others, and he + thought it more prudent to take his mother's name, which was Hanlon, in + order to avoid discovery, the case being a very common one under + circumstances of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + Rody Duncan's explanation, with respect to the Tobacco-Box, was not called + for on the trial, but we shall give it here in order to satisfy the + reader. He saw Nelly M'Gowan, as we may still call her, thrusting + something under the thatch of the cabin, and feeling a kind of curiosity + to ascertain what it could be, he seized the first opportunity of + examining, and finding a tobacco-box, he put it in his pocket, and thought + himself extremely fortunate in securing it, for reasons which the reader + will immediately understand. The truth is, that Rody, together with about + half a dozen virtuous youths in the neighborhood, were in the habit of + being out pretty frequently at night—for what purposes we will not + now wait to inquire. Their usual place of rendezvous was the Grey Stone, + in consequence of the shelter and concealment which its immense + projections afforded them. On the night of the first meeting between Sarah + and Hanlon, Rody had heard the whole conversation by accident, whilst + waiting for his companions, and very judiciously furnished the groans, as + he did also upon the second night, on both occasions for his own + amusement. His motives for ingratiating himself through means of the box, + with Sarah and Hanlon, are already known to the reader, and require no + further explanation from us. + </p> + <p> + In fact, such a train of circumstantial evidence was produced, as + completely established the Prophet's guilt, in the opinion of all who had + heard the trial, and the result was a verdict of guilty by the jury, and a + sentence of death by the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Your case,” said the judge, as he was about to pronounce sentence, “is + another proof of the certainty with which Providence never, so to speak, + loses sight of the man who deliberately sheds his fellow creature's blood. + It is an additional and striking instance too, of the retributive spirit + with which it converts all the most cautious disguises of guilt, no matter + how ingeniously assumed, into the very manifestations by which its + enormity is discovered and punished.” + </p> + <p> + After recommending him to a higher tribunal, and impressing upon him the + necessity of repentance, and seeking peace with God, he sentenced him to + be hanged by the neck on the fourth day after the close of the assizes, + recommending his soul, as usual, to the mercy of his Creator. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet was evidently a man of great moral intrepidity and firmness. + He kept his black, unquailing eye fixed upon the judge while he spoke, but + betrayed not a single symptom of a timid or vacillating spirit. When the + sentence was pronounced, he looked with an expression of something like + contempt upon those who had broken out, as usual, into those murmurs of + compassion and satisfaction, which are sometimes uttered under + circumstances similar to his. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he to the gaoler, “that every thing is over, and the worst + come to the worst, the sooner I get to my cell the better. I have despised + the world too long to care a single curse what it says or thinks of me, or + about me. All I'm sorry for is, that I didn't take more out of it, and + that I let it slip through my hands so asily as I did. My curse upon it + and its villany! Bring me in.” + </p> + <p> + The gratification of the country for a wide circle round, was now + absolutely exuberant. There was not only the acquittal of the good-hearted + and generous old man, to fill the public with a feeling of delight, but + also the unexpected resurrection, as it were, of honest Bartholomew + Sullivan, which came to animate all parties with a double enjoyment. + Indeed, the congratulations which both parties received, were sincere and + fervent. Old Condy Dalton had no sooner left the dock than he was + surrounded by friends and relatives, each and all anxious to manifest + their sense of his good fortune, in the usual way of “treating” him and + his family. Their gratitude, however, towards the Almighty for the + unexpected interposition in their favor, was too exalted and pious to + allow them to profane it by convivial indulgences. With as little delay, + therefore, as might be, they sought their humble cabin, where a scene + awaited them that was calculated to dash with sorrow the sentiments of + justifiable exultation which they felt. + </p> + <p> + Our readers may remember that owing to Sarah's illness, the Prophet, as an + after thought, had determined to give to the abduction of Mave Sullivan + the color of a famine outrage; and for this purpose he had resolved also + to engage Thomas Dalton to act as a kind of leader—a circumstance + which he hoped would change the character of the proceedings altogether to + one of wild and licentious revenge on the part of Dalton. Poor Dalton lent + himself to this, as far as its aspect of a mere outbreak had attractions + for the melancholy love of turbulence, by which he had been of late + unhappily animated. He accordingly left home with the intention of taking + a part in their proceedings; but he never joined them. Where he had gone + to, or how he had passed the night, nobody knew. Be this as it may, he + made his appearance at home about noon on the day of his father's trial, + in evidently a dying state, and in this condition his family found him on + their return. 'Tis true they had the consolation of perceiving that he was + calmer and more collected than he had been since the death of Peggy + Murtagh. His reason, indeed, might be said to have been altogether + restored. + </p> + <p> + They found him sitting in his father's arm chair, his head supported—oh, + how tenderly supported!—by his affectionate sister, Mary. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dalton herself had come before, to break the joyful tidings to this + excellent girl, who, on seeing her, burst into tears, exclaiming in Irish— + </p> + <p> + “Mother, dear, I'm afraid you're bringing a heavy heart to a house of + sorrow!” + </p> + <p> + “A light heart, dear Mary—a light and a grateful heart. Your father, + <i>acushla machree</i>—your father, my dear, unhappy Tom, is not a + murderer.” + </p> + <p> + The girl had one arm around her brother's neck, but she instinctively + raised the other, as if in ecstatic delight, but in a moment she dropped + it again, and said sorrowfully— + </p> + <p> + “Ay; but, mother dear, didn't he say himself he was guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “He thought so, dear; but it was only a rash blow; and oh, how many a + deadly accident has come from harsh blows! The man was not killed at all, + dear Mary, but is alive and well, and was in the court-house this day. Oh! + what do we not owe to a good God for His mercy towards us all? Tom, dear, + I am glad to see you at home; you must not go out again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother dear,” said his sister, kissing him, and bursting into tears, + “Tom's dying!” + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” exclaimed his mother—“death's in my boy's face!” + </p> + <p> + He raised his head gently, and, looking at her, replied, with a faint + smile— + </p> + <p> + “No, mother, I will not go out any more; I will be good at last—it's + time for me.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment old Dalton and the rest of the family entered the house, + but were not surprised at finding Mary and her mother in tears; for they + supposed, naturally enough, that the tears were tears of joy for the old + man's acquittal. Mrs. Dalton raised her hand to enjoin silence; and then, + pointing to her son, said— + </p> + <p> + “We must keep quiet for a little.” + </p> + <p> + They all looked upon the young man, and saw, that death, immediate death, + was stamped upon his features, gleamed wildly out of his eyes, and spoke + in his feeble and hollow voice. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said he, “let me kiss you, or come and kiss me. Thank God for + what has happened this day. Father,” he added, looking up into the old + man's face, with an expression of unutterable sorrow and affection—“father, + I know I was wild; but I will be wild no more. I was wicked, too; but I + will be wicked no more. There, is an end now to all my follies and all my + crimes; an' I hope—I hope that God will have mercy upon me, an' + forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + The tears rained fast upon his pale face from the old man's eyes, as he + exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “He will have mercy upon you, my darlin' son; look to Him. I know, + darlin', that whatever crimes or follies you committed, you are sorry for + them, an' God will forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he replied; “kiss me all of you; my sight is gettin' wake, an' my + tongue isn't isn't so strong as it was.” + </p> + <p> + One after one they all kissed him, and as each knew that this tender and + sorrowful, embrace must be the last that should ever pass between them, it + is impossible adequately to describe the scene which then took place. + </p> + <p> + “I have a request to make,” he added, feebly; “an' it is, that I may sleep + with Peggy and our baby. Maybe I'm not worthy of that; but still I'd like + it, an' my heart's upon it; an' I think she would like it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “It can be done, an' we'll do it,” replied his mother; “we'll do it my + darlin' boy—my son, my son, we'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you all forgive me—forgive me—everything?” + </p> + <p> + They could only, for some time, reply by their tears; but at length they + did reply, and he seemed satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “there was an ould Irish air that Peggy used to sing for + me—I thought I heard her often singin' it of late—did I?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, darlin',” replied his mother; “I suppose you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, here,” he proceeded, “sings it; I would like to hear it before I + go; it's the air of <i>Gra Gal Machree</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you go, <i>alanna!</i>” exclaimed his father, pressing him + tenderly to his breast. “Oh! but they're bitther words to us, my darlin' + an' my lovin' boy. But the air, Mary, darlin', strive an' sing it for him + as well as you can.” + </p> + <p> + It was a trying task for the affectionate girl, who, however, so far + overcame her grief, as to be able to sing it with the very pathos of + nature itself. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said he, as she proceeded, “that's it—that's what Peggy used + to sing for me, bekaise she knew I liked it.” + </p> + <p> + Tender and full of sorrow were the notes as they came from the innocent + lips of that affectionate sister. Her task, however, was soon over; for + scarcely had she concluded the air, when her poor brother's ears and heart + were closed to the melody and affection it breathed, forever. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said she, with tears, “that there's one thing will give comfort + to you all respecting poor Tom. Peter Rafferty, who helped him home, + seein' the dyin' state he was in, went over to the Car, and brought one of + Father Hanratty's curates to him, so that he didn't depart without + resaving the rites of the Church, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + This took the sting of bitterness out of their grief, and infused into it + a spirit that soothed their hearts, and sustained them by that consolation + which the influence of religion and its ordinances, in the hour of death + and sorrow, never fail to give to an Irish family. + </p> + <p> + Old Dalton's sleep was sound that night; and when he awoke the next + morning the first voice he heard was that of our friend Toddy Mack, which, + despite of the loss they had sustained, and its consequent sorrow, + diffused among them a spirit of cheerfulness and contentment. + </p> + <p> + “You have no raison,” said he, “to fly in the face of God—I don't + mane you, Mrs. Dalton—but these youngsters. If what I heard is thrue + that that poor boy never was himself since the girl died, it was a mercy + for God to take him; and afther all He is a betther judge of what's fit + for us than we ourselves. Bounce, now, Mr. Dalton; you have little time to + lose. I want you to come wid me to the agent, Mr. Travers. He wishes, I + think, to see yourself, for he says he has heard a good account o' you, + an' I promised to bring you. If we're there about two o'clock we'll hit + the time purty close.” + </p> + <p> + “What can he want with him, do you think?” asked Mrs. Dalton. + </p> + <p> + “Dear knows—fifty things—maybe to stand for one of his + childhre—or—but, ah! forgive me—I could be merry + anywhere else; but here—here—forgive me, Mrs. Dalton.” + </p> + <p> + In a short time Dalton and he mounted a car which Toddy had brought with + him, and started for the office of Mr. Travers. + </p> + <p> + While they are on their way, we shall return to our friend, young Dick, + who was left to trudge home from the Grey Stone on the night set apart for + the abduction of Mave Sullivan. Hanlon, or Magennis, as we ought now to + call him, having by his shrewdness, and Rody Duncan's loose manner of + talking, succeeded in preventing the burglarious attack upon his master's + house, was a good deal surprised at young Dick's quick return, for he had + not expected him at all that night. The appearance of the young gentleman + was calculated to excite impressions of rather a serio-comic character. + </p> + <p> + “Hanlon,” said he, “is all right?—every man at his post?” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir; but I did not expect you back so soon. Whatever you've + been engaged on to-night is a saicret you've kep' me out of.” + </p> + <p> + “D—e, I was afraid of you, Hanlon—you were too honest for what + I was about to-night. You wouldn't have stood it—I probed you on it + once before, and you winced.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I assure you I don't wish to know what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as the whole thing has failed there, can be no great secret in it + now. The old Prophet hoaxed me cursedly to-night. It was arranged between + us that he should carry off Sullivan's handsome daughter for me—and + what does the mercenary old scoundrel do but put his own in her place, + with a view of imposing her on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, an' of the two she is thought to be the finest an' handsomest + girl; but, my God! how could he do what you say, an' his daughter sick o' + the typhus?” + </p> + <p> + “There's some d—d puzzle about it, I grant—he seemed puzzled—his + daughter-seemed sick, sure enough—and I am sick. Hanlon, I fear I've + caught the typhus from her—I can think of nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, sir; I tould you as you went out that you had taken rather too + much. You've been disappointed, an' you're vexed;—that's what ails + you; but go to bed, an' you'll sleep it off.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I must. In a day or two it's arranged that I and Travers are to + settle about the leases, and I must meet that worthy gentleman with a + clear head.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Darby Skinadre, sir, to have Dalton's farm?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I've pocketed a hundred of his money for it, an' I think he ought. + However, all this part of the property is out of lease, and you know we + can neither do nor say anything till we get the new leases.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you can, sir,” replied Hanlon, laughing; “it's clear you can <i>do</i> + at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that? What do you grin at, confound you?” + </p> + <p> + “You can take the money, sir; that's what I mane by <i>doin'</i> him. Ha, + ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, Charley; but I'm sick; and I very much fear that I've caught + this confounded typhus.” + </p> + <p> + The next day being that on which the trial took place, he rose not from + his bed; and when the time appointed for meeting Travers came he was not + at all in anything of an improved condition. His gig was got ready, + however, and, accompanied by Hanlon, he drove to the agent's office. + </p> + <p> + Travers was a quick, expert man of business, who lost but little time and + few words in his dealings with the world. He was clear, rapid, and + decisive, and having once formed an opinion, there was scarcely any + possibility in changing it. This, indeed, was the worst and most + impracticable point about him; for as it often happened that his opinions + were based upon imperfect or erroneous data, it consequently followed that + his inflexibility was but another name for obstinacy, and not unfrequently + for injustice. + </p> + <p> + As Henderson entered the office, he met our friend the pedlar and old + Dalton going out. + </p> + <p> + “Dalton,” said Travers, “do you and your friend stay in the next room; I + wish to see you again before you go. How do you do, Henderson?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not well,” replied Henderson, “not at all well; but it won't + signify.” + </p> + <p> + “How is your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Much as usual: I wonder he didn't call on you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he did not, I suppose he's otherwise engaged—the assizes always + occupy him. However, now to business, Mr. Henderson;” and he looked + inquiringly at Dick, as much as to say, I am ready to hear you. + </p> + <p> + “We had better see, I think,” proceeded Dick, “and make arrangements about + these new leases.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall expect to be bribed for each of them, Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Bribed!” exclaimed the other, “ha, ha, ha! that's good.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, do you think there's anything morally wrong or dishonorable in a + bribe?” asked the other, with a very serious face. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Mr. Travers,” said Dick, “a joke's a joke; only don't put so + grave a face on you when you ask such a question. However, as you say + yourself, now to business—about these leases.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” continued Travers, “that I am both an honest man and a + gentleman, yet I expect a bribe for every lease.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied Henderson, “it is not generally supposed that either + an honest man or a gentleman—” + </p> + <p> + “Would take a bribe?—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, d—n it, no; not exactly that either; but come, let us + understand each other. If you will be wilful on it, why a wilful man, they + say, must have his way. Bribery, however—rank bribery—is a—” + </p> + <p> + “Crime to which neither an honest man nor a gentleman would stoop. You see + I anticipate what you are about to say; you despise bribery, Mr. + Henderson?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the other, rather warmly, “I trust that I am a gentleman + and an honest man, too.” + </p> + <p> + “But still, a wilful man, Mr. Henderson must have his way, you know. Well, + of course, you are a gentleman and an honest man.” + </p> + <p> + He then rose, and touching the bell, said to the servant who answered it: + </p> + <p> + “Send in the man named Darby Skinadre.” + </p> + <p> + If that miserable wretch was thin and shrivelled-looking when first + introduced to our readers, he appeared at the present period little else + than the shadow of what he had been. He not only lost heavily the usurious + credit he had given, in consequence of the wide-spread poverty and crying + distress of the wretched people, who were mostly insolvent, but he + suffered severely by the outrages which had taken place, and doubly so in + consequence of the anxiety which so many felt to wreak their vengeance on + him, under that guise, for his heartlessness and blood-sucking extortions + upon them. + </p> + <p> + “Your name,” proceeded the agent, “is Darby Skinadre?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have given this gentleman the sum of a hundred pounds, as a + bribe, for promising you a lease of Cornelius Dalton's farm?” + </p> + <p> + “I gave him a hundred pounds, but not at all as a bribe, sir; I'm an + honest man, I trust—an' the Lord forbid I'd have anything to do wid + a bribe; an' if you an' he knew—if you only knew, both o' you—the + hard strivin,' an' scrapin,' an' sweepin' I had to get it together—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, sir; be silent. You received this money, Mr. Henderson?” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, Travers, my good friend; this is playing too high a card about such + a matter. Don't you know, devilish well, that these things are common, + aye, and among gentlemen and honest men too, as you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is a discussion upon which I shall not enter. Now, as you say, + to business.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” continued Henderson, smiling, “if you have no objection, I + am willing that you should take Skinadre's affair and mine as a precedent + between you and me. Let us not be fools, Mr. Travers; it is every one for + himself in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it you expect, in the first place?” asked the agent. + </p> + <p> + “Why, new leases,” replied the other, “upon reasonable terms, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Travers, “I beg to inform you that you shall not have + them, with only one exception. You shall have a lease of sixty-nine acres + attached to the Grange, being the quantity of land you actually farm.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, why not of all the property?” asked Dick. + </p> + <p> + “My good friend,” replied the agent, nearly in his own words to the + Pedlar; “the fact is, that we are about to introduce a new system + altogether upon our property. We are determined to manage it upon a + perfectly new principle. It has been too much sublet under us, and we have + resolved, Mr. Henderson, to rectify this evil. That is my answer. With the + exception of the Grange farm, you get no leases. We shall turn over a new + leaf, and see that a better order of things be established upon the + property. As for you, Skinadre, settle this matter of your hundred pounds + with Mr. Henderson as best you may. That was a private transaction between + yourselves; between yourselves, then, does the settlement of it lie.” + </p> + <p> + He once more touched the bell, and desired Cornelius Dalton and the Pedlar + to be sent in. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Henderson,” he proceeded, “I will bid you good morning; you certainly + look ill. Skinadre, you may go. I have sent for Mr. Dalton, Mr. Henderson, + to let him know that he shall be reinstated in his farm, and every + reasonable allowance made him for the oppression and injustice which he + and his respectable family have suffered at—I will not say whose + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Travers,” replied Henderson, “your conduct is harsh—and—however, + I cannot now think of leases—I am every moment getting worse—I + am very ill—good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + He then went. + </p> + <p> + “An' am I to lose my hundre pounds, your honor, of my hard earned money, + that I squeezed—” + </p> + <p> + “Out of the blood and marrow and life of the struggling people, you + heartless extortioner! Begone, sirra; a foot of land upon the property for + which I am agent you shall never occupy. You and your tribe, whether you + batten upon the distress of struggling industry in the deceitful + Maelstrooms of the metropolis, or in the dirty, dingy shops of a private + country village, are each a scorpion curse to the people. Your very + existence is a libel upon the laws by which the rights of civil society + are protected.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, your honor does me injustice; I never see a case of distress that + my heart doesn't bleed—” + </p> + <p> + “With a leech-like propensity to pounce upon it. Begone!” + </p> + <p> + The man slunk out. + </p> + <p> + “Dalton,” he proceeded, when the old man, accompanied by the Pedlar, came + in, “I sent for you to say that I am willing you should have your farm + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the other, “I am thankful and grateful to you for that + kindness, but it's now too late; I am not able to go back upon it; I have + neither money nor stock of any kind. I am deeply and gratefully obliged to + you; but I have not a sixpence worth in the world to put on it. An honest + heart, sir, an' a clear fame, is all that God has left me, blessed be His + name.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't b'lieve a word of it,” replied the Pedlar. “Only let your honor + give him a good lease, at a raisonable rint, makin' allowance for his + improvements—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind conditions, my good friend,” said the agent, “but proceed; + for, if I don't mistake, you will yourself give him a lift.” + </p> + <p> + “May be, we'll find him stock and capital a thrifle, any way,” replied the + Pedlar with a knowing wink. “I haven't carried the pack all my life for + nothing, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said the agent to Dalton, “that one of your sons is dead. + I leave town to-day, but I shall be here this day fortnight;—call + then, and we shall have every thing arranged. Your case was a very hard + one, and a very common one; but it was one with which we had nothing to + do, and in which, until now, we could not interfere. I have looked clearly + into it, and regret to find that such cases do exist upon Irish property + to a painful extent, although I am, glad to find that public opinion, and + a more enlightened experience, are every day considerably diminishing the + evil.” + </p> + <p> + He then rang for some one-else, and our friends withdrew, impressed with a + grateful sense of his integrity and justice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. — Conclusion. + </h2> + <p> + The interest excited by the trial, involving as it did so much that + concerned the Sullivans, especially the hopes and affections of their + daughter Mave, naturally induced them—though not on this latter + account—young and old, to attend the assizes, not excepting Mave + herself; for her father, much against her inclination, had made a point to + bring her with them. On finding, however, how matters turned out, a + perfect and hearty reconciliation took place between the two families, in + the course of which Mave and the Prophet's wife once more renewed their + acquaintance. Some necessary and brief explanation took place, in the + course of which allusion was made to Sarah and her state of health. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said Mave, “you will lose no time in goin' to see her. I know + her affectionate heart; an' that when she hears an' feels that she has a + mother alive an' well, an' that loves her as she ought to be loved, it + will put new life into her.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a fine lookin' girl,” replied her mother, “an' while I was spakin' + to her, I felt my heart warm to her sure enough; but she's a wild crature, + they say.” + </p> + <p> + “Hasty a little,” said Mave; “but then such a heart as she has. You ought + to go see her at wanst.” + </p> + <p> + “I would, dear, an' my heart is longin' to see her; but I think it's + betther that I should not till afther his thrial to-morrow. I'm to be a + witness against the unfortunate man.” + </p> + <p> + “Against her father!—against your own husband!” exclaimed Mave, + looking aghast at this information. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear; for it was my brother he murdhered an' he must take the + consequences, if he was my husband and her father ten times over. My + brother's blood mustn't pass for nothin'. Besides, the hand o' God is in + it, an' I must do my duty.” + </p> + <p> + The heart of the gentle and heroic Mave, which could encounter contagion + and death, from a principle of unconscious magnanimity and affection, that + deserved a garland, now shrunk back with pain at the sentiments so coolly + expressed by Sarah's mother. She thought for a moment of young Dalton, and + that if she were called upon to prosecute him,—but she hastily put + the fearful hypothesis aside, and was about to bid her acquaintance + good-bye, when the latter said: + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, or rather the day afther, I'd wish to see her for then I'll + know what will happen to him, an' how to act with her; an' if you'd come + with me, I'd be glad of it, an' you'd oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + Mave's gentle and affectionate spirit was disquieted within her by what + she had already heard; but a moment's reflection convinced her that her + presence on the occasion might be serviceable to Sarah, whose excitable + temperament and delicate state of health required gentle and judicious + treatment. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afeard,” said Mrs. M'Ivor, “that by the time the trial's over + to-morrow, it'll be too late; but let us say the day afther, if it's the + same to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” replied Mave, “you can call to our place, as it's on your + way, an' we'll both go together.” + </p> + <p> + “If she knew her,” said Mave to her friends, on her way home, “as I do; if + she only knew the heart she has—the lovin', the fearless, the great + heart;—oh, if she did, no earthly thing would prevent her from goin' + to her without the loss of a minute's time. Poor Sarah!—brave and + generous girl—what wouldn't I do to bring her back to health! But + ah, mother, I'm afeard;” and as the noble girl spoke, the tears gushed to + her eyes—“'It's my last act for you,' she whispered to me, on that + night when the house was surrounded by villains—'I know what you + risked for me in the shed; I know it, dear Mave, an' I'm now sthrivin' to + pay back my debt to you.' Oh, mother!” she exclaimed, “where—where + could one look for the like of her! an' yet how little does the world know + about her goodness, or her greatness, I may say. Well,” proceeded Mave, + “she paid that debt; but I'm afeard, mother, it'll turn out that it was + with her own life she paid it.” + </p> + <p> + At the hour appointed, Mrs. M'Ivor and Mave set out on their visit to + Sarah, each now aware of the dreadful and inevitable doom that awaited her + father, and of the part which one of them, at least, had taken in bringing + it about. + </p> + <p> + About half an hour before their arrival, Sarah, whose anxiety touching the + fate of old Dalton could endure no more, lay awaiting the return of her + nurse—a simple, good-hearted, matter-of-fact creature, who had no + notion of ever concealing the truth under any circumstances. The poor girl + had sent her to get an account of the trial the best way she could, and, + as we said, she now lay awaiting her return. At length she came in. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Biddy, what's the news—or have you got any?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman gently and affectionately put her hand over on Sarah's + forehead, as if the act was a religious ceremony, and accompanied an + invocation, as, indeed, she intended it to do. + </p> + <p> + “May God in His mercy soon relieve you from your thrials, my poor girl, + an' bring you to Himself! but it's the black news I have for you this + day.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah started. + </p> + <p> + “What news,” she asked, hastily—“what black news?” + </p> + <p> + “Husth, now, an' I'll tell you;—in the first place, your mother is + alive, an' has come to the counthry.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah immediately sat up in the bed, without assistance, and fastening her + black, brilliant eyes upon the woman, exclaimed—“My mother—my + mother—my own mother!—an' do you dare to tell me that this is + black news? Lave the house, I bid you. I'll get up—I'm not sick—I'm + well. Great God! yes, I'm well—very well; but how dare you name + black news an' my mother—my blessed mother—in the same breath, + or on the same day?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you hear me out, then?” continued the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Sarah, attempting to get up—“I want to hear no more; + now I wish to live—now I am sure of one, an' that one my mother—my + own mother—to love me—to guide me—to taich me all that I + ought to know; but, above all, to love me. An' my father—my poor + unhappy father—an' he is unhappy—he loves me, too. Oh, Biddy, + I can forgive you now for what you said—I will be happy still—an' + my mother will be happy—an' my father,—my poor father—will + be happy yet; he'll reform—repent maybe; an' he'll wanst more get + back his early heart—his heart when it was good, an' not hardened, + as he says it was, by the world. Biddy, did you ever see any one cry with + joy before—ha—ha—did you now?” + </p> + <p> + “God strengthen you, my poor child,” exclaimed the nurse, bursting into + tears; “for what will become of you? Your father, Sarah dear, is to be + hanged for murdher, an' it was your mother's evidence that hanged him. She + swore against him on the thrial an' his sentence is passed. Bartle + Sullivan wasn't murdhered at all, but another man was, an' it was your + father that done it. On next Friday he's to be hanged, an' your mother, + they say, swore his life away! If that's not black news, I don't know what + is.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah's face had been flushed to such a degree by the first portion of the + woman's intelligence, that its expression was brilliant and animated + beyond belief. On hearing its conclusion, however, the change from joy to + horror was instantaneous, shocking, and pitiable, beyond all power of + language to express. She was struck perfectly motionless and ghastly; and + as she kept her large lucid eyes fixed upon the woman's face, the powers + of life, that had been hitherto in such a tumult of delight within her, + seemed slowly, and with a deadly and scarcely perceptible motion, to ebb + out of her system. The revulsion was too dreadful; and with the appearance + of one who was anxious to shrink or hide from something that was painful, + she laid her head down on the humble pillow of her bed. + </p> + <p> + “Now, asthore,” said the woman, struck by the woeful change—“don't + take it too much to. heart; you're young, an' please God, you'll get over + it all yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, in a voice so utterly changed and deprived of its + strength, that the woman could with difficulty hear or understand her. + “There's but one good bein' in the world,” she said to herself, “an' that + is Mave Sullivan: I have no mother, no father—all I can love now is + Mave Sullivan—that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one that knows her does,” said the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said Sarah, inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mave Sullivan,” replied the other; “worn't you spakin' about her?” + </p> + <p> + “Was I?” said she, “maybe so—what was I sayin'?” + </p> + <p> + She then put her hand to her forehead, as if she felt pain and confusion; + after which she waved the nurse towards her, but on the woman stooping + down, she seemed to forget that she had beckoned to her at all. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Mave and her mother entered, and after looking towards the + bed on which she lay, they inquired in a whisper, from her attendant how + she was. + </p> + <p> + The woman pointed hopelessly to her own head, and then looked + significantly at Sarah, as if to intimate that her brain was then + unsettled. + </p> + <p> + “There's something wrong here,” she added, in an under tone, and touching + her head, “especially since I tould her what had happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she acquainted with everything?” asked her mother. + </p> + <p> + “She is,” replied the other; “she knows that her father is to die on + Friday an' that you swore agin' him.” + </p> + <p> + “But what on earth,” said Mave, “could make you be so mad as to let her + know anything of that kind?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she sent me to get word,” replied the simple creature, “and you + wouldn't have me tell her a lie, an' the poor girl on her death-bed, I'm + afeard.” + </p> + <p> + Her mother went over and stood opposite where she lay, that is, near the + foot of her bed, and putting one hand under her chin, looked at her long + and steadily. Mave went to her side and taking her hand gently up, kissed + it, and wept quietly, but bitterly. + </p> + <p> + It was, indeed, impossible to look upon her without a feeling of deep and + extraordinary interest. Her singularly youthful aspect—her + surprising beauty, to which disease and suffering had given a character of + purity and tenderness almost etherial—the natural symmetry and + elegance of her very arms and hands—the wonderful whiteness of her + skin, which contrasted so strikingly with the raven black of her glossy + hair, and the soul of thought and feeling which lay obviously expressed by + the long silken eye-lashes of her closed eyes—all, when taken in at + a glance, were calculated to impress a beholder with love, and sympathy, + and tenderness, such as no human heart could resist. + </p> + <p> + Mave, on glancing at her mother, saw a few tears stealing, as it were, + down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to God, my dear daughter,” exclaimed the latter, in a low voice, + “that I had never seen your face, lovely as it is, an' it surely would be + betther for yourself that you had never been born.” + </p> + <p> + She then passed to the bed-side, and taking Mave's place, who withdrew, + she stooped down, and placing her lips upon Sarah's white broad forehead, + exclaimed—“May God bless you, my dear daughter, is the heart-felt + prayer of your unhappy mother!” + </p> + <p> + Sarah suddenly opened her eyes, and started.—“What is wrong? There + is something wrong. Didn't I hear some one callin' me daughter? Here's a + strange woman—Charley Hanlon's aunt—Biddy, come here!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, acushla, here I am—keep yourself quiet, achora—what is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you tell me that my mother swore my father's life away?” + </p> + <p> + “It's what they say,” replied the matter-of-fact nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Then it's a lie that's come from hell itself,” she replied—“Oh, if + I was only up and strong as I was, let me see the man or woman that durst + say so. My mother! to become unnatural and treacherous, an' I have a + mother—ha, ha—oh, how often have I thought of this—thought + of what a girl I would be if I was to have a mother—how good I would + be too—how kind to her—how I would love her, an' how she would + love me, an' then my heart would sink when I'd think of home—ay, an' + when Nelly would spake cruelly an' harshly to me I'd feel as if I could + kill her, or any one.” + </p> + <p> + Her eye here caught Mave Sullivan's, and she again started. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” she exclaimed; “am I still in the shed? Mave Sullivan!—help + me up, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + “I am here, dear Sarah,” replied the gentle girl—“I am here; keep + yourself quiet and don't attempt to sit up; you're not able to do it.” + </p> + <p> + The composed and serene aspect of Mave, and the kind, touching tones of + her voice, seemed to operate favorably upon her, and to aid her in + collecting her confused and scattered thoughts into something like order. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear Mave,” said she, “what is this? What has happened? Isn't there + something wrong? I'm confused. Have I a mother? Have I a livin' mother, + that will love me?” + </p> + <p> + Her large eyes suddenly sparkled with singular animation as she asked the + last question, and Mave thought it was the most appropriate moment to make + the mother known to her. + </p> + <p> + “You have, dear Sarah, an' here she is waitin' to clasp you to her heart, + an' give you her blessin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” she exclaimed, starting up in her bed, as if in full health; “my + mother! where?—where?” + </p> + <p> + She held her arms out towards her, for Mave had again assumed the mother's + station at her bedside, and the latter stood at a little distance. On + seeing her daughter's arms widely extended towards her, she approached + her, but whether checked by Sarah's allusion to her conduct, or from a + wish to spare her excitement, or from some natural coldness of + disposition, it is difficult to say, she did it with so little appearance + of the eager enthusiasm that the heart of the latter expected, and with a + manner so singularly cool and unexcited, that Sarah, whose feelings were + always decisive and rapid as lightning, had time to recognize her features + as Hanlon's aunt whom she had seen and talked to before. + </p> + <p> + But that was not all; she perceived not in her these external + manifestations of strong affection and natural tenderness for which her + own heart yearned almost convulsively; there was no sparkling glance—no + precipitate emotion—no gushing of tears—no mother's love—in + short, nothing of what her noble and loving spirit could, recognize as + kindred to itself, and to her warm and impulsive heart. The moment—the + glance—that sought and found not what it looked for—were + decisive: the arms that had been extended remained extended still, but the + spirit of that attitude was changed, as was that eager and tumultuous + delight which had just flashed from her countenance. Her thoughts, as we + said, were quick, and in almost a moment's time she appeared to be + altogether a different individual. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” she exclaimed, now repelling instead of soliciting the embrace—“there + isn't the love of a mother in that woman's heart—an' what did I + hear?—that she swore my father's life away—her husband's life + away. No, no; I'm changed—I see my father's blood, shed by her, too, + his own wife! Look at her features, they're hard and harsh—there's + no love in her eyes—they're cowld and sevare. No, no; there's + something wrong there—I feel that—I feel it—it's here—the + feelin's in my heart—oh, what a dark hour this is! You were right, + Biddy, you brought me black news this day—but it won't—it + won't throuble me long—it won't trouble this poor brain long—it + won't pierce this poor heart long—I hope not. Oh!” she exclaimed, + turning to Mave, and extending her arms towards her, “Mave Sullivan, let + me die!” + </p> + <p> + The affectionate but disappointed girl had all Mave's sympathies, whose + warm and affectionate feelings recoiled from the coldness and apparent + want of natural tenderness which characterized the mother's manner, under + circumstances in themselves so affecting. Still, after having soothed + Sarah for a few minutes, and placed her head once more upon the pillow, + she whispered to the mother, who seemed to think more than to feel: + </p> + <p> + “Don't be surprised; when you consider the state she's in—and indeed + it isn't to be wondered at after what she has heard—you must make + every allowance for the poor girl.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah's emotions were now evidently in incessant play. + </p> + <p> + “Biddy,” said she, “come here again; help me up.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sarah,” said Mave, “you are not able to bear all this; if you could + compose yourself an' forget everything unpleasant for a while, till you + grow strong—” + </p> + <p> + “If I could forget that my mother has no heart to love me with—that + she's cowld and strange to me: if I could forget that she's brought my + father to a shameful death—my father's heart wasn't altogether bad; + no, an' he was wanst—I mane in his early life—a good man. I + know that—I feel that—'dear Sarah, sleep—deep, dear + Sarah'—no, bad as he is, there was a thousand times more love and + nature in the voice that spoke them words than in a hundred women like my + mother, that hasn't yet kissed my lips. Biddy, come here, I say—here—lift + me up again.” + </p> + <p> + There was such energy, and fire, and command, in her voice and words now, + that Mave could not remonstrate any longer, nor the nurse refuse to obey + her. When she was once more placed sitting, she looked about her— + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, “come here!” + </p> + <p> + And as she pronounced the word mother, a trait so beautiful, so exquisite, + so natural, and so pathetic, accompanied it, that Mave once more wept. Her + voice, in uttering the word, quivered, and softened into tenderness, with + the affection which nature itself seems to have associated with it. Sarah + herself remarked this, even in the anguish of the moment. + </p> + <p> + “My very heart knows and loves the word,” she said. “Oh! why is it that I + am to suffer this? Is it possible that the empty name is all that's left + me afther all? Mother, come here—I am pleadin' for my father now—you + pleaded against him, but I always took the weakest side—here is God + now among us—you must stand before him—look your daughter in + the face—an' answer her as you expect to meet God, when you leave + this throubled life—truth—truth now, mother, an' nothin' else. + Mother, I am dyin'. Now, as God is to judge you, did you ever love my + father as a wife ought?” + </p> + <p> + There was some irresistible spirit, some unaccountable power, in her + manner and language,—such command and such wonderful love of candor + in her full dark eye—that it was impossible to gainsay or withstand + her. + </p> + <p> + “I will spake the thruth,” replied her mother, evidently borne away and + subdued, “although it's against myself—to my shame an' to my sorrow + I say it—that when I married your father, another man had my + affections—but, as I'm to appear before God, I never wronged him. I + don't know how it is that you've made me confess it; but at any rate + you're the first that ever wrung it out o' me.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” replied her daughter, calmly; “that sounds like murdher + from a mother's lips! Lay me down now, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + Mave, who had scarcely ever taken her eyes from off her varying and busy + features, was now struck by a singular change which she observed come over + them—a change that was nothing but the shadow of death, and cannot + be described. + </p> + <p> + “Sarah!” she exclaimed; “dear, darling Sarah, what is the matter with you? + Have you got ill again?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my child!” exclaimed her mother—“am I to lose you this way at + last? Oh! dear Sarah, forgive me—I'm you mother, and you'll forgive + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mave,” said Sarah, “take this—I remember seein' yours and mine + together not very long ago—take this lock of my hair—I think + you'll get a pair of scissors on the corner of the shelf—cut it off + with your own hands—let it be sent to my father—an' when he's + dyin' a disgraceful death, let him wear it next his heart—an' + wherever he's to be buried, let him have this buried with him. Let whoever + will give it to him, say that it comes from Sarah—an' that, if she + was able, she would be with him through shame, an' disgrace, an' death; + that she'd support him as well as she could in his trouble—that + she'd scorn the world for him—an' that because he said wanst in his + life that he loved her; she'd forgive him all a thousand times, an' would + lay down her life for him.” + </p> + <p> + “You would do that, my noble girl!” exclaimed Mave, with a choking voice. + </p> + <p> + “An' above all things,” proceeded Sarah, “let him be told, if it can be + done, that Sarah said to him to die without fear—to bear it up like + a man, an' not like a coward—to look manfully about him on the very + scaffold—an'—an' to die as a man ought to die—bravely + an' without fear—bravely an' without fear!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice and strength were, since the last change that Mave observed, + both rapidly sinking, and her mother, anxious, if possible, to have her + forgiveness, again approached her and said: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sarah you are angry with me. Oh! forgive me—am I not your + mother?” + </p> + <p> + The girl's resentments, however, had all passed, and the business of her + life, and its functions, she now felt were all over—she said so— + </p> + <p> + “It's all over, at last now, mother,” she replied—“I have no anger + now—come and kiss me. Whatever you have done, you are still my + mother. Bless me—bless your daughter Sarah, I have nothing now in my + heart but love for everybody. Tell Nelly, dear Mave, that Sarah forgave + her, an' hoped that she'd forgive Sarah. Mave, I trust that you an' he + will be happy—that's my last wish, an' tell him so. Mave, there's + sweet faces about me, sich as I seen in the shed; they're smilin' upon me—smilin' + upon Sarah—upon poor, hasty Sarah McGowan—that would have + loved every one. Mave, think of me sometimes—an' let him, when he + thinks of the wild girl that loved him, look upon you, dearest Mave, an' + love you, if possible, better for her sake. These sweet faces are about me + again. Father, I'll be before you—die—die like a man.” + </p> + <p> + While uttering these last few sentences, which were spoken with great + difficulty, she began to pull the bedclothes about with her hands, and + whilst uttering the last word, her beautiful hand was slightly clenched, + as if helping out a sentiment so completely in accordance with her brave + spirit. These motions, however, ceased suddenly—she heaved a deep + sigh, and the troubled spirit of the kind, the generous, the erring, but + affectionate Sarah M'Gowan—as we shall call her still—passed + away to another, and, we trust, a better life. The storms of her heart and + brain were at rest forever. + </p> + <p> + Thus perished in early life one of those creatures, that sometimes seem as + if they were placed by mistake in a wrong sphere of existence. It is + impossible to say to what a height of moral grandeur and true greatness, + culture and education might have elevated, her, or to say with what + brilliancy her virtues might have shone, had heart and affections been + properly cultivated. Like some beautiful and luxuriant flower, however, + she was permitted to run into wildness and disorder for want of a guiding + hand; but no want, no absence of training, could ever destroy its natural + delicacy, nor prevent its fragrance from smelling sweet, even in the + neglected situation where it was left to pine and die. + </p> + <p> + There is little now to be added. “Time, the consoler,” passes not in vain + even over the abodes of wretchedness and misery. The sufferings of that + year of famine we have endeavored to bring before those who may have the + power in their hands of assuaging the similar horrors which are likely to + visit this. The pictures we have given are not exaggerated, but drawn from + memory and the terrible realities of 1817. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to add, that when sickness and the severity of winter + passed away, our lovers, Mave and young Condy Dalton, were happily + married, as they deserved to be, and occupied the farm from which the good + old man had been so unjustly expelled. + </p> + <p> + It was on the first social evening that the two families, now so happily + reconciled, spent together subsequent to the trial, that Bartle Sullivan + gratified them with the following account of his history: + </p> + <p> + “I remimber fightin',” he proceeded, “wid Condy on that night, an' the + devil's own <i>bulliah battha</i> he was. We went into a corner of the + field near the Grey Stone to decide it. All at wanst I forgot what + happened, till I found myself lyin' upon a car wid the M'Mahons of + Edinburg, that lived ten or twelve miles beyant the mountains, at the foot + of Carnmore. They knew me, and good right they had, for I had been spakin' + to their sister Shibby, but she wasn't for me at the time, although I was + ready to kick my own shadow about her, God knows. Well, you see, I felt + disgraced at bein' beaten by Con Dalton, an I was fond of her, so what 'ud + you have of us but off we went together to America, for you see she + promised to marry me if I'd go. + </p> + <p> + “They had taken me up on one of their carts, thinkin' I was dhrunk, to + lave me for safety in the next neighbor's house we came to. Well, she an' + I married when we got to Boston; but God never blessed us wid a family; + and Toddy here, who tuk the life of a pedlar, came back afther many a long + year, with a good purse, and lived with us. At last I began to long for + home, and so we all came together. The Prophet's wife was wid us, an' + another passenger tould me that Con here had been suspected of murdherin' + me. I got unwell in Liverpool, but I sent Toddy on before me to make their + minds aisy. As we wor talkin' over these matthers, I happened to mention + to the woman what I had seen the night the carman was murdhered, and I + wondhered at the way she looked on hearin' it. She went on, but afther a + time came back to Liverpool for me, an' took the typhus on her way home, + but thank God, we were all in time to clear the innocent and punish the + guilty; ay, an' reward the good, too, eh, Toddy?'” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give Mave away,” replied Toddy, “if there wasn't another man in + Europe; an' when I'm puttin' your hand into Con's, Mave, it won't be an + empty one. Ay, an' if your friend Sarah, the wild girl, had lived—but + it can't be helped—death takes the young as well as the ould; and + may God prepare us all to meet Him!” + </p> + <p> + Young Richard Henderson's anticipations were, unfortunately, too true. On + leaving Mr. Travers' office, he returned home, took his bed, and; in the + course of one short week, had paid, by a kind of judicial punishment, the + fatal penalty of his contemplated profligacy. His father survived him only + a few months, so that there is not at this moment, one of the name or + blood of Henderson in the Grange. The old man died of a quarrel with Jemmy + Branigan, to whom he left a pension of fifty pounds a year; and truly the + grief of this aged servant after him was unique and original. + </p> + <p> + “What's to come o' me?” said Jemmy, with tears in his eye; “I have nothing + to do, nobody to attend to, nobody to fight with, nothing to disturb me or + put me out of timper; I knew, however, that he would stick to his + wickedness to the last—an' so he did, for the devil tempted him, out + of sheer malice, when he could get at me no way else, to lave me fifty + pounds a year, to kape me aisy! Sich revenge and villany, by a dyin' man, + was never heard of. God help me, what am I to do now, or what hand will I + turn to? What is there before me but peace and quietness for the remainder + of my life?—but I won't stand that long—an' to lave me fifty + pounds a year, to kape me aisy! God forgive him!” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet suffered the sentence of the law, but refused all religious + consolation. Whether his daughter's message ever reached him or not, we + have had no means of ascertaining. He died, however, as she wished, + firmly, but sullenly, and as if he despised and defied the world and its + laws. He neither admitted his guilt, nor attempted to maintain his + innocence, but passed out of existence like a man who was already wearied + with its cares, and who now felt satisfied, when it was too late, that + contempt for the laws of God and man, never leads to safety, much loss to + happiness. His only observation was the following— + </p> + <p> + “When I dreamt that young Dalton drove a nail in my coffin, little I + thought it would end this way.” + </p> + <p> + We have simply to conclude by saying that Rody Duncan was transported for + perjury; and that Nelly became a devotee, or voteen, and, as far as one + could judge, exhibited something like repentance for the sinful life she + had led with the Prophet. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish +Famine, by William Carleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK PROPHET *** + +***** This file should be named 16018-h.htm or 16018-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/0/1/16018/ + +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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