The O'Donoghue Part 10

"Awa wi ye, ye ragged deevils; ye'r a disgrace to a Christian country.'

"Throth we wear breeches an us," said an old fellow on crutches; "and sure I hear that's more nor they do, in the parts your honour comes from."

Sir Archy's pa.s.sion boiled over at this new indignity. He stormed and swore, with all the impetuous rage of one beside himself with pa.s.sion; but the effect on his hearers was totally lost The only notice they took was an occasional exclamation of--

"There it is now! Oh, blessed father! hear what he says! Oh, holy mother! isn't he a terrible man?"--comments by no means judiciously adapted to calm his irritation. Meanwhile symptoms of evacuating the territory were sufficiently evident. Cripples were taken on the backs and shoulders of their respective friends; sacks and pouches were slung over the necks. Many a preparatory shake of the rags showed that the wearer was getting ready for the road, when Sir Archy, suddenly checking himself in the full torrent of his wrath, cried out--

"Bide a wee--stay a minit, ye auld beasties--I hae a word to say to some amang ye."

The altered tone of voice in which he spoke seemed at once to have changed the whole current of popular feeling; for now they all chimed in with--

"Arrah, he's a good man after all; sure 'tis only a way he has"--sentiments which increased in fervency as Sir Archibald took a tolerably well-filled purse from his pocket, and drew out some silver into his hand, many exclaiming--

"'Tis the kind heart often has the hard word; and sure ye can see in his face he isn't cruel.'

"Hear till me," cried Sir Archy aloud, as he held up a shilling before their wistful eyes, "there's mony a ane among ye, able to earn siller.

Which o' ye now will step down to Killarney, and tell the docter he's wanted up here wi a' despatch? Ye maun go fast and bring him, or send him here to-night; and if ye do, I'll gie ye this piece o' siller money when ye come back."

A general groan from that cla.s.s whose age and infirmities placed them out of the reach of compet.i.torship, met this speech, while from the more able section, a not less unequivocal expression of discontent broke forth.

"Down to Killarney," cried one; "begorra, I wonder ye didn't say Kenmare when ye war about it--the devil a less than ten miles it is."

"Eyah! I'll like to see my own four bones going the same road; sorra a house the whole way where there's a drop of milk or a pratie."

"That's the charity to the poor, I suppose," said the fat fellow of the night-cap. "'Tis wishing it I am, the same charity."

"We wor to bring the doctor on our back, I hope," said a cripple in a bowl.

"Did ever man hear or see the like o' this?" exclaimed M'Nab, as with uplifted hands he stared in wonderment around him. "One wad na believe it."

"True for you, honey," joined in one of the group. "I'm fifty-three years on the road, and I never heerd of any one askin' us to do a hand's turn, afore."

"Out of my sight, ye worthless ne'er-do-weels; awa wi ye at once and for ever. I'll send twenty miles round the country, but I'll hae a mastiff here, 'ill worry the first o' ye that dares to come near the house."

"On my conscience, it will push you hard to find a wickeder baste nor yourself."

"Begorra, he won't be uglier any how."

And with these comments, and the hearty laughter that followed, the tattered and ragged group defiled out of the yard with all the honours of war, leaving Sir Archy alone, overwhelmed with astonishment and anger.

A low chuckling laugh, as the sash was closed over head, made him look up, and he just caught a glimpse of O'Donoghue as he retired from the window; for in his amus.e.m.e.nt at the scene, the old man forgot the sick boy and all about him, and only thought of the ridiculous interview he had witnessed.

"His ain father--his ain father!" muttered Sir Archy, as with his brows contracted and his hands clasped behind his back, he ruminated in sadness on all he saw. "What brings ye back again, ye lazy scoundrels?

How dare ye venture in here again?"

This not over-courteous interrogatory was addressed to poor Terry the Woods, who, followed by one of Sir Marmaduke's footmen, had at that instant entered the yard.

"What for, are ye come, I say? and what's the flunkie wanting beside ye?"

Terry stood thunderstruck at the sudden outbreak of temper, and turned at once to the responsible individual, to whom he merely acted as guide, to make a reply.

"And are ye tramping it too?" said M'Nab, with a sneering accent as he addressed the footman. "Methinks ye might hae a meal's meat out o'

the goold lace on your hat, and look mair like a decent Christian afterwards. Ye'r out of place maybe."

These last words were delivered in an irony, to which a tone of incredulity gave all the sting; and these only were intelligible to the sleek and well-fed individual to whom they were addressed.

In all likelihood, had he been charged with felony or highway robbery, his self-respect might have sustained his equanimity; any common infraction of the statute-law might have been alleged against him without exciting an undue indignation; but the contemptuous insinuation of being "out of place"--that domestic outlawry, was more than human endurance could stomach; nor was the insult more palatable coming from one he believed to be a servant himself. It was therefore with the true feeling of outraged dignity he replied--

"Not exactly out of place jest now, friend; though, if they don't treat you better than your looks show, I'd recommend you trying for a new situation."

Of a verity, Sir Archibald's temper was destined to sore trials that morning; but this was a home thrust, for which no forethought could have prepared him.

"I hope I am no' going to lose my senses," said he, as he pressed his hands on either side of his temples. "May the Lord keep me from that worst of a' human calamities."

This pious wish, uttered with real, unfeigned fervency, seemed to act like a charm upon the old man's temper, as though the very appeal had suggested a calmer and more patient frame of mind. It was, then, with all the dignity of his natural character, when unclouded by momentary flashes of pa.s.sion, that he said--

"What may be your errand here this morning?"

Few and simple as the words were, there was that in their quiet, una.s.suming delivery, which in a second recalled the footman to a full consciousness of his impertinent mistake. He saw at once the immeasurable gulph, impa.s.sible to any effort of a.s.sumption or insolence, which separated them, and with the ready tact of his calling, he respectfully took off his hat, and held forth a sealed letter, without one word of reply or apology.

Sir Archibald put on his spectacles, and having carefully read the superscription, turned back towards the house without speaking.

"Here is a letter for you, O'Donoghue," said he, as he entered the parlour where the chief was already seated at his breakfast, while Kerry O'Leary, a short distance behind his chair, was relating the circ.u.mstances of the last night's adventure.

"Is it from Mark?" said the old man eagerly; and then glancing at the writing, he threw it from him in disappointment, and added, "I am getting very uneasy about that lad."

"Had ye no' better read the letter; the messenger wha brought it seems to expect an answer," interposed M'Nab.

"Messenger!--eh--not by post? Is Hemsworth come back?" exclaimed O'Donoghue, with an evident degree of fear in his manner.

"No, sir," said Kerry, guessing to what topic his master's thoughts were turning; "the Captain is not coming, they say, for a month or six weeks yet."

"Thank G.o.d," muttered O'Donoghue; "that scoundrel never leaves me a night's rest, when I hear he's in the neighbourhood. Will you see what's in it, Archy?--my head is quite confused this morning; I got up three hours before my time."

Sir Archibald resumed his spectacles, and broke the seal. The contents were at some length it would seem, for as he perused the letter to himself, several minutes elapsed.

"Go on, Kerry," said O'Donoghue; "I want to hear all about this business."

"Well, I believe your honour knows the most of it now; for when I came up to the glen, they were all safe over, barrin' the mare; poor Kittane, she was carried down the falls, and they took her up near a mile below the old bridge, stone dead; Master Mark will fret his heart out when he hears it."

"This is a very polite note," interposed Sir Archy, as he laid the letter open before him, "from Sir Marmaduke Travers, begging to know when he may be permitted to pay his personal respects to you, and express his deep and grateful sense--his own words--of your son's n.o.ble conduct in rescuing his daughter at the hazard of his life. It is written with much modesty and good sense, and the writer canna be other than a true gentleman."

"Travers--Travers," repeated O'Donoghue; "why that's the man himself. It was he bought the estate; he's Hemsworth's princ.i.p.al."

"And if he be," replied M'Nab, "canna an honest man ha'e a bad servant?

There's nothing about Hemsworth here. It's a ceevil demand from one gentleman to anither."

"So it is, then, Sir Marmaduke, that has been staying at the lodge these some weeks past. That was Mark's secret--poor dear boy, he wouldn't tell me, fearing it would annoy me. Well, what is it he wants."