Fardorougha, The Miser Part 4

"Oh, G.o.d forgive you, Fardorougha!" exclaimed his honest and humane wife. "G.o.d forgive you! Bartle, from my heart, from the core o' my heart, I pity you, my poor boy. An' is it to this, Fardorougha, you've brought them--Oh, Saviour o' the world!"

She fixed her eyes upon the victim of her husband's extortion, and in an instant they were filled with tears.

"What did I do," said the latter, "but strive to recover my own? How could I afford to lose forty pounds? An' I was tould for sartin that your father knew Grehan was goin' to Ameriky when he got him to go security. Whisht, Honora, you're as foolish a woman as riz this day; haven't you your sins to cry for?"

"G.o.d knows I have, Fardorougha, an' more than my own to cry for."

"I dare say you did hear as much," said Bartle, quietly replying to the observation of Fardorougha respecting his father; "but you know it's a folly to talk about spilt milk. If you want a sarvint I'll hire; for, as I said a while ago, I want a place, an' except wid you I don't know where to get one."

"If you come to me," observed the other, "you must go to your duty, an'

observe the fast days, but not the holydays."

"Sarvints isn't obliged to obsarve them," replied Bartle.

"But I always put it in the bargain," returned the other.

"As to that," said Bartle, "I don't much mind it. Sure it'll be for the good o' my sowl, any way. But what wages will you be givin'?"

"Thirty shillings every half year;--that's three pounds--sixty shillings a year. A great deal o' money. I'm sure I dunna where it's to come from."

"It's very little for a year's hard labor," replied Bartle, "but little as it is, Fardorougha, owin' to what has happened betwixt us, believe me, I'm right glad to take it."

"Well, but Bartle, you know there's fifteen shillins of the ould account still due, and you must allow it out o' your wages; if you don't, it's no bargain."

Bartle's face became livid; but he was perfectly cool;--indeed, so much so that he smiled at this last condition of Fardorougha. It was a smile, however, at once so ghastly, dark, and frightful, that, by any person capable of tracing the secret workings of some deadly pa.s.sion on the countenance, its purport could not have been mistaken.

"G.o.d knows, Fardorougha, you might let that pa.s.s--considher that you've been hard enough upon us."

"G.o.d knows I say the same," observed Honora. "Is it the last drop o' the heart's blood you want to squeeze out, Fardorougha?"

"The last drop! What is it but my right? Am I robbin' him? Isn't it due?

Will he, or can he deny that? An' if it's due isn't it but honest in him to pay it? They're not livin' can say I ever defrauded them of a penny.

I never broke a bargain; an' yet you open on me, Honora, as if I was a rogue! If I hadn't that boy below to provide for, an' settle in the world, what 'ud I care about money? It's for his sake I look afther my right."

"I'll allow the money," said Bartle. "Fardorougha's right; it's due, an'

I'll pay him--ay will I, Fardorougha, settle wid you to the last farden, or beyant it if you like."

"I wouldn't take a farden beyant it, in the shape of debt. Them that's decent enough to make a present, may--for that's a horse of another color."

"When will I come home?" inquired Bartle.

"You may stay at home now that you're here," said the other. "An' in the mane time, go an' help Connor put that hay in lap-c.o.c.ks. Anything you want to bring here you can bring afther your day's work tonight."

"Did you ate your dinner, Bartle?" said Honora; "bekase if you didn't I'll get you something."

"It's not to this time o' day he'd be without his dinner, I suppose,"

observed his new master.

"You're very right, Fardorougha," rejoined Bartle; "I'm thankful to you, ma'am, I did ate my dinner."

"Well, you'll get a rake in the barn, Bartle," said his master; "an' now tramp down to Connor, an' I'll see how you'll handle yourselves, both o'

you, from this till night."

Bartle accordingly--proceeded towards the meadow, and Fardorougha, as was his custom, throwing his great coat loosely about his shoulders, the arms dangling on each side of him, proceeded to another part of his farm.

Flanagan's step, on his way to join Connor, was slow and meditative. The kindness of the son and mother touched him; for the line between their disposition and Fardorougha's was too strong and clear to allow the slightest suspicion of their partic.i.p.ation in the spirit which regulated his life. The father, however, had just declared that his anxiety to acc.u.mulate money arose from a wish to settle his son independently in life; and Flanagan was too slightly acquainted with human character to see through this flimsy apology for extortion. He took it for granted that Fardorougha spoke truth, and his resolution received a bias from the impression, which, however, his better nature determined to subdue.

In this uncertain state of mind he turned about almost instinctively, to look in the direction which Fardorougha had taken, and as he observed his diminutive figure creeping along with his great coat about him, he felt that the very sight of the man who had broken up their hearth and scattered them on the world, filled his heart with a deep and deadly animosity that occasioned him to pause as a person would do who finds himself unexpectedly upon the brink of a precipice.

Connor, on seeing him enter the meadow with the rake, knew at once that the terms had been concluded between them; and the excellent young man's heart was deeply moved at the dest.i.tution which forced Flanagan to seek for service with the very individual who had occasioned it.

"I see, Bartle," said he, "you have agreed."

"We have," replied Bartle. "But if there had been any other place to be got in the parish--(an' indeed only for the state I'm in)--I wouldn't have hired myself to him for nothing, or next to nothing, as I have done."

"Why, what did he promise?"

"Three pounds a year, an' out o' that I'm to pay him fifteen shillings that my father owes him still."

"Close enough, Bartle, but don't be cast down; I'll undertake that my mother an' I will double it--an' as for the fifteen shillings I'll pay them out o' my own pocket--when I get money. I needn't tell you that we're all kept upon the tight crib, and that little cash goes far with us; for all that, we'll do what I promise, go as it may."

"It's more than I ought to expect, Connor; but yourself and your mother, all the counthry would put their hands undher both your feets."

"I would give a great dale, Bartle, that my poor father had a little of the feelin' that's in my mother's heart; but it's his way, Bartle, an'

you know he's my father, an' has been kinder to me than to any livin'

creature on this earth. I never got a harsh word from him yet. An' if he kept me stinted in many things that I was ent.i.tled to as well as other persons like me, still, Bartle, he loves me, an' I can't but feel great affection for him, love the money as he may."

This was spoken with much seriousness of manner not unmingled with somewhat of regret, if not sorrow. Bartle fixed his eye upon the fine face of his companion, with a look in which there was a character of compa.s.sion. His countenance, however, while he gazed on him, maintained his natural color--it was not pale.

"I am sorry, Connor," said he slowly, "I am sorry that I hired with your father."

"An' I'm glad of it," replied the other; "why should you be sorry?"

Bartle made no answer for some time, but looked into the ground, as if he had not heard him.

"Why should you be sorry, Bartle?"

Nearly a minute elapsed before his abstraction was broken. "What's that?" said he at length. "What were you asking me?"

"You said you were sorry."

"Oh, ay!" returned the other, interrupting him; "but I didn' mind what I was sayin': 'twas thinkin' o' somethin' else I was--of home, Bartle, an'

what we're brought to; but the best way's to dhrop all discoorse about that forever."

"You'll be my friend if you do," said Connor.

"I will, then," replied Bartle; "we'll change it. Connor, were you ever in love?"

O'Donovan turned quickly about, and, with a keen glance at Bartle, replied,