The Tithe-Proctor Part 13

"Stop a moment, then," she replied. "I have some superfluous articles of dress that I may dispose of."

The whole mother rushed into her heart at the thought; the tender and loving wife forgot everything but the means of obtaining food for her husband and children. She went to her dressing-room, and in a few minutes returned, accompanied by Lilly Stewart, her own servant-maid previous to ker marriage, to whom their recent distresses had been no secret, and who was deeply and deservedly in the confidence of the family.

Whilst she was, absent in her dressing-room the pedlar resumed his song, as was his custom when alone--a circ.u.mstance which caused Mrs. Temple to remark, as she and Lilly went down to, the parlor--"Alas! dear Lilly, what a mistaken estimate does one portion of mankind form of another.

This poor pedlar now envies us the happiness of rank and wealth which we do not feel, and I--yes, even I--what would I not give to be able to carol so light-hearted a song as that which he is singing! Who is this man, Lilly, do you know him?"

"Why, ma'am, if all they say is true, every one knows him, and n.o.body knows him. He's known as the _Cannie Soogah_, or jolly pedlar. They say, that although he prefers this kind of life, he's very wealthy.

One person will tell you that he's a great rogue, and would cheat Satan himself, and others say he's generous and charitable. In other respects," continued. Lilly, blushing, "he's not very well spoken of, but it may be false. I have always found him myself very civil; and them that spoke harshly of him were people that he kept at a distance."

The pedlar ceased his song as soon as they made their appearance in the parlor, into which Lilly admitted him for the sake of mutual convenience.

"Here's a shawl--a beautiful shawl, Mr. ---- what's this your name is?"

"The name that I have for set days and bonfire nights," he replied, "is one I seldom tell," and at the same time there was a dry air of surprise about him on hearing her ask the question; "but the name I am generally known by is the _Cannie Soogah_, which manes, ma'am," he added, addressing himself in a respectful manner to Mrs. Temple, "the jolly merchant or pedlar."

"Well, Cannie," said Lilly, p.r.o.nouncing the word with more familiarity than could have been expected from their apparent unaquaintance with each other, "here's a beautiful shawl that my mistress made me a present of."

"No, Lilly," said her mistress, with severity--for she neither could nor would sanction the falsehood, however delicately and well intended--"no, do not mislead the man, nor state anything but the truth. The shawl is mine, my good man, and I wish to dispose of it."

The pedlar looked at it, and replied, in a tone of disappointment, "Yes, ma'am, but I'm afeard it's beyant my manes; I know the value of it right well, and it's seldom ever the likes of it was in my pack. What are you axin', ma'am? it's as good as new."

"I think it cost twelve or thirteen guineas, as well as I can remember,"

she replied; "but it is not what it cost, but what you are now disposed to give for it, that I am anxious to know."

"Well, ma'am, you know I must look upon it as--hem--as a second--ha--at all events," he proceeded, checking himself with more delicacy than could be expected from him--"you must admit that it isn't new."

"Certainly," said she, "it has been more than eight years in my possession, although, at the same time, I believe I have not worn it more than half a dozen times."

"Well, ma'am," replied the pedlar, "I know the value of the shawl something betther even than yourself. If you will take six guineas for it, we will deal; more I cannot afford, for I must at once tell, you the truth, that I may carry it about these twelve months before I find any one that knows its value."

Mrs. Temple was by no means prepared, any more than her servant, for such a liberal offer; and without any further hesitation she accepted it, and desired Lilly to place the shawl in his hands, and in the meantime, with equal consideration and good feeling, he handed Lilly six guineas, adding, "Give that to your mistress, but in troth, ma'am," he proceeded, respectfully addressing her; "it is just robbing you I am, but I can only say, that if I dispose of it at its proper-value you'll hear from me again. Troth, if I wasn't a great rogue, ma'am, I'd give you more for it; but bad cess to the one o' me--ever could be honest, even if I wasped for it."

"I do not think you dishonest, my good, man," replied Mrs. Temple; "on the contrary, I am not displeased with your, plain blunt manner. Lilly give him some----"

She checked herself at once, and pa.s.sed, a significant but sorrowful glance at Lilly; as she went up to the drawing-room.

She had no sooner gone, than the peddler, with a shrug of satisfaction, exclaimed, in a subdued but triumphant voice: "Oh! by the hokey I've done her, and for that you must suffer, Lilly darlin'. Come now, you jumpin' jewel you, that was born wid a honey-comb somewhere between, that purty chin and beautiful nose of yours--throth it must have a taste, for who the d.i.c.kens could, refuse the _Cannie Soogah_, and before Lilly, who, by the way, was nothing, loath, could put herself in an att.i.tude of defense, he had inflicted several smacks upon as pretty a pair of lips as ever were pressed.

"Upon my word; now, Mr. Magrath, you're very impudent," she replied, "I wonder you're not ashamed, you great strong man you, to be kissing girls in this manner, whether they will or not. Look at the state you have my hair in; you're very rude, Mr. Magrath, and I'm really angry with you; you've broken one of my side-combs, too; you're a great rude man, so you are."

"Broke your side-comb, did I? Well, then, you couldn't be in better hands, darlin', here's a pair I make you a present of, and maybe they won't set you all off to pieces; here, darlin', wear these for my sake."

"But are you making me a present of these beauties, Cannie?"

"Troth an' I am, Lilly darlin', and wish they were betther for your sake--what's that I said? a present! oh the sorrow bit, I must have my payment--aisy now, darlin', my own sweet Lilly; there now, we're clear."

"Upon my word, Mr. Magrath, I don't know what to say to you, but you're such a great strong fellow, that a poor weak girl like me is but a child in your arms; are these real tortoise-sh.e.l.l though?"

"You may swear it; do you think I'd offer you anything else? But now listen, my darlin' girl, take this shawl, it's 'worth five-and-twenty guineas at least, troth, poor thing! it wasn't since their marriage it was bought; take it, I say, and go up widout sayin' a word, and lay it just where it was before, and if she seems surprised on findin' it there, tell her you suppose I forgot it, or if she won't believe you, and that all fails you, say that the _Cannie Soogah_, although she knows nothing about him, is a man that's undher great obligations to her family, and that he only tuck that method of payin' back a debt to her that he honestly owed to them, for, afther all, isn't she one of them?"

Lilly shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears, at the manly and modest generosity of the pedlar.

"Little you know then, Mr. Magrath, the load you have taken off my dear mistress's heart, and the delight you have brought upon the whole family."

"Well, Lilly dear, sure if I did, amn't I well paid, for it? thanks to your two sweet lips for that. Sure, bad cess to me, but it was on your account I did it."

A vile grin, or rather an awkward blank smile, forced by an affectation of gallantry, accompanied the lie which he uttered.

"Oh, yes, indeed," replied Lilly, "on my 'account, don't think to pa.s.s that upon me; however, I can forgive you a great many things in consequence of your behavior--just now."

"And yet you abused me for it," he replied, laughing, "but sure I knew that a purty girl always likes to be kissed; bad cess to me, but the same behavior comes naturally to me."

"Go now," said Lilly, with a comic and peremptory manner; "go your rounds, I say; you know very well that I mane your behavior about the shawl, and not your great strong impudence."

The pedlar, after winking and nodding meanings into her words that she had never thought of, slung his pack over his shoulder as usual, and proceeded on his rounds.

We have always been of opinion that there is scarcely anything more mysterious than the speed with which popular report travels apparently with very inadequate machinery throughout a large district of country.

Before the day was more than half-advanced, fame had succeeded in circulating a report that Matthew Purcel and Dr. Turbot had been both shot dead in the garden of the rectory. This report spread rapidly, and it is with equal pain and shame we are obliged to confess that in general it was received with evident and undisguised satisfaction. John and Alick Purcel, on their way home, were accosted at a place called "Murderer's Corner," by two of the men who had attended at their father's office that morning, and informed that he and Dr. Turbot had been murdered in the course of the day, a piece of information which was conveyed by them with a sneer of cowardly triumph that was perfectly diabolical.

"G.o.d save ye, gintlemen!" said one of them, with a peculiar emphasis on the last word; "did ye here the news?"

"No, Jemmy, what is it?" asked John.

"Why, that Darby Hourigan is very ill," he replied, with mock gravity.

"No thanks for your information, Jemmy," replied the other; "if you told us something of more interest we might thank you."

"Never mind him, gintlemen," replied his companion, "there's nothing wrong wid Darby Horaigan, barrin' that he occasionally rubs himself where he's not itching, but there's worse news than that before you."

"What is it, then?" asked Alick; "if you know it, let us hear it, and don't stand humming and hawing as if you were afraid to speak."

"Faith, an' it's no wondher I would, sir, when it's to tell you that you'll find your father a murdhered corpse at home before you."

"Great G.o.d! what do you mean, sir? asked John.

"Why, gintlemen, it seems that himself an' Parson Turbot wor both shot in the parsonage garden to-day. The parson's takin' his rest in his own house, but your father's body was brought home upon the car. The bullet entered your worthy father's breeches' pocket, cut through a sheaf of notes that he had to pay the parson his tides wid, and from that it went on----"

Human patience could not endure the ill-suppressed and heartless satisfaction with which the fellow was about to enter into the details, and accordingly, ere he had time to proceed further, John Purcel turning a hunting-whip, loaded for self-defense, left him sprawling on the earth.

"Now, you ill-conditioned scoundrel," he exclaimed, "whether he is murdered or not, take that for your information. Alick, lay on Hacket there, you are the nearest to him," he added, addressing his brother.

Hacket at once took to his heels, but the other, touching his horse with the spurs, cantered up to him, and brought the double thong of his whip into severe contact with his neck and shoulders. When this was over, the two fiery young men exclaimed:--

"There, now, are our thanks, not merely for your information, but for the good will with which it was given, and that to the very sons of the man whom, by your own account, you have murdered among you. If his blood however, has been shed, there is not a drop of it for which we will not exact a tenfold retribution."

They then dashed home, at the highest speed of which their horses were capable, and throwing themselves out of the saddle, rushed to the hall-door, where they knocked eagerly.

"Is my father at home, Letty?"