The Tithe-Proctor Part 26

"To whatever woman you make happy Mogue, there will be. Well, but, Mogue, tell me; had you a good day's sport?"

"Sorra worse then; G.o.d pardon me for swearin'," he replied. "There riz a mist in the mountains that a man could build a house wid, if there was any implements to be found, hard and sharp enough to cut it. All we got was a brace of grouse and a snipe or two."

"And--hem--well but--hem--why Mogue, you give but a very miserable account of the proceedings of the day. Had you any one with you?--Oh, yes, by the way, did I not see Mr. M'Carthy go out with you this morning?"

"Yes, Miss Julia, you did; he went out wid me, sure enough," replied Mogue, drily, and with rather a dissatisfied tone.

"He is a--hem, does he shoot well?"

"He shoots well enough, Miss Julia--when he pulls the trigger the gun goes off; but as for killin' birds, that my bed may be in heaven but they fly away laughin' at him."

"He came with you as far as O'Driscol's," she said, at once putting a query in the shape of an a.s.sertion, "and I suppose sent some apology to my father and brothers, for not having been here to dinner."

"Hem! come as far as Mr. O'Driscol's?" exclaimed Mogue; "troth he's about the poorest piece o' goods ever carried a gun--G.o.d help the unhappy woman that'll get him; for sorra thing he is but a mere excuse for a man. I left him lyin' like a half-hung dog, up in the mountains above."

Julia started, and almost screamed with terror at this account of her lover. "Gracious heavens, Moylan, what do you mean?" she exclaimed--"up in the mountains!--where and how in the mountains? Is he ill, or does he want aid or a.s.sistance?"

"No, Miss Julia; but the truth is, he's a poor cur of a creature that's not able to undertake a man's task at all; he's lyin' knocked up in Frank Finnerty's; moanin' and groanin' an' yowlin', like a sick hound; I had to carry or drag him over half the mountains; for, from the blessed hour of twelve o'clock this day, he wasn't able to put a foot undher him, an' he did nothing but blasphayme' an' curse every one he knew; your fathers and brothers, your sisther, and mother, and yourself; he cursed and blasphaymed you all, helther skelther; I could bear all, Miss. Julia till he came to run you down, an' 'tis well for him that I hadn't the gun in my hand when he did it, that's all; or, that I may never do an ill turn but I'd a' given him a touch o' the Moylan blood for your sake--an' now, Miss Julia," he proceeded, "I hope we understand one another. As for him he's a pitiful whelp!"

"Are you in jest or earnest?" she inquired, changing her tone.

"That luck may flow on me, but I'm in airnest, Miss Julia--but no matther for that, don't you let you spirits down, think of our great family; and remimber that them that was wanst great may be great agin.

Plaise G.o.d we'll have back the forwhitled estates, when we get the Millstone broke, an' the Mill that ground us banished from the counthry; however, that will come soon; but in the mane time, Miss Julia, I have a saycret to tell you about him."

"About Mr. M'Carthy?" she asked, sadly puzzled as to the tendency and object of his conversation, but at the same time somewhat awakened to an indistinct interest, respecting this secret concerning her lover.

"Yes, miss; listen hether, Miss Julia; would you believe it that he, Mr.

M'Carthy, is sworn, or any way as good as sworn, to take your father's life away?"

"No, Mogue," she replied firmly, but with good humor, "not a syllable."

"Well then," he proceeded, "if he did not swear to do it in plain words, he did as good. You won't braithe a syllable of this, Miss Julia; but listen still--You know the ruction that's through, the counthry aginst tides?"

"I do, I am sorry to say."

"An' that the whole counthry is sworn Whiteboys, and that all the Whiteboys in sworn, of coorse, to put an end to them. That's the oath they take now, miss, by all accounts."

"So they say Mogue."

"Well, miss, would you believe it, that that fellow, the ungrateful hound that he is, that same Francis M'Carthy, is at the head of them, is one of their great leaders, and is often out at night wid the villains, leadin' them on to disturbances, and directin' them how to act; ay, an'

he doesn't like a bone in Mr. O'Driscol's body, any more than in your father's."

"Ha!--ha!--ha! very good, Mogue, but make it short--ha!--ha!--ha!--and who's your authority for all this?"

"Himself, miss, for a great part of it; it was this day, he wanted myself to become a White-boy; but I had the grace o' G.o.d about me, I hope, an' resisted the temptation. 'Mogue,' says he, 'you are a good Catholic, an' ought to join us; we're sworn to put down the tides altogether, an' to banish Protestantism out o' the counthry.'"

"But is not M'Carthy himself a Protestant?" said Julia.

"Not he, miss, he only turned to get a lob o' money from the Great College in Dublin above; sure they provide for any one that will turn, but he's a true Catholic at heart; air when the time comes he'll show it."

"And you say he joins their meetings at night, Mogue?"

"That I may be blest, but he does, miss; and since you must know the truth, he's at one o' them this very night."

"Then you have told me a falsehood with respect to his fatigue?"

"He put me up to it, miss; and bid me say it; howandever my mind wasn't aisy undher it; and now you know the truth."

"And does he blacken his face as well as the other Whiteboys?"

"That hurt or harm may never come near me but he does that same; I have it from them that seen him and knew him, in spite o' black face an'

all."

"Ha! ha! ha!--well good-night, Mogue, and many thanks for your most important and truthful secret."

"Before you go, Miss Julia, one other word; listen, there a man worth a ship load of him, that's in grate consate wid you--remember the ould families, Miss Julia, an' them that suffered for--for--their counthry.

Now here' the kind o' man I'd recommend you for a husband; don't let a pair o' red cheeks or black eyes lead you by the nose--an' what signifies a good figure, when neither the handsomest nor the strongest man can keep off a headache or a fit o' the blackguard cholic--bad luck to it--when they come on one. No, Miss Julia, always in the man that's to be your husband, prefer good lastin' color in the complection, an'

little matther about the color of the eyes if they always smile upon yourself--then agin, never marry a man that swears, Miss Julia, but a man that's fond of his prayers, and is given to piety--sich men never use any but harmless oaths, sich as may I be blest, salvation to me, and the like--that's the kind o' men to make a husband of, and I have sich a man in my eye for you."

"Thank you, Mogue," said Julia, who was too quick-witted to misunderstand him any longer. "Many thanks for your good advice--and whisper, Mogue--who knows but I may follow it? Good-night!"

"Good-night, darlin'," he whispered in a kind of low triumphant cackle, that caused her to shake her very sides with laughter, after she had closed the window.

Julia Purcel, who could attribute Moylan's extraordinary conversation to nothing but a more than usual indulgence in liquor, did not for a single moment suffer herself to become influenced by the unaccountable information which she had heard respecting M'Carthy. But even if it had been true, she was so peculiarly circ.u.mstanced, that without disclosing the private conversation she had had with Moylan, she could not without pain communicate it to her family. As it was, however, she placed no confidence whatever in any portion of it, and on further reflection, she felt all her apprehensions concerning M'Carthy revived. If she experienced anything in the shape of satisfaction from the dialogue, it arose from the fact that if M'Carthy had suffered injury, Mogue would not have been so much at ease on his return. When his return was made known, however, to the family at large, Mogue repeated his first version, and a.s.sured them that he, M'Carthy had laid down in Finnerty's for an hour or so to recruit his strength. He supposed he would soon be home, he said--or for that matter, maybe as he found himself comfortable, he would stop there for the night. Mogue himself had come home to make their minds easy, and to let them know where he was, and what had kept him away. To a certain extent the family were satisfied, but as M'Carthy had communicated to the male portion of them the friendly warning he had got from the Whiteboy, they said, that although he might have been, safe enough when Mogue left him in the mountains, yet considering the state of the country, and that he unquestionably had enemies, he might not be free from danger on his way home. There was scarcely a night in the week that the country was not traversed by mult.i.tudes of those excited and unscrupulous mobs, that struck terror to the hearts of the peaceful, or such as were obnoxious to them.

Accordingly, after waiting a couple of hours, Alick Purcel got a double case of pistols, and proposed to go as far as O'Driscol's, where they took it for granted, as he had not been able to come to dinner, they would find him should he have returned.

"Alick," said the father, "after all the notices we have got, and considering the feeling that is against us, it is ridiculous to be fool-hardy--don't go by the road but cross the fields."

"Such is my intention, sir," replied Alick; "for although no coward, still I am but flesh and blood, and it is death you know, for mere flesh and blood to stop a bullet. Give me my enemy face to face and I don't fear him, but when he takes me at night from behind a hedge, courage is of little use, and won't save my life."

On arriving at O'Driscol's, he found that M'Carthy had not come, and after waiting till one o'clock, he prepared to take his departure. At this moment, a female servant tapped at the drawing-room door, and after having been desired to come in, she communicated the following startling particulars:--She had forgotten her washing, she said, and gone out a little time before to bring it in, and in doing so, she spied several men with black faces and white shirts skulking about the house. She was not sure, she said, on having the question put to her, whether she had been seen by them or not.

This communication, which was given with every mark of alarm and terror, completely altered the posture of affairs at the magistrate's. Katherine O'Driscol's face became deadly pale as she turned a glance upon young Purcel, which he well understood. "Alick," said she, "under these circ.u.mstances, it would, be absolute madness to attempt going home to-night. It is very likely they have discovered that you are here, and are watching for you."

"But if I do not return home," he replied, "it is equally probable that John and my father, wondering at my delay, may come to look for me, and in that case they might meet these ruffians--or rather might be waylaid by them."

"Purcel, my dear fellow!" said the magistrate, who was now pretty deep in his cups, and consequently somewhat pot-valiant--or at least disposed to show them a touch of his valor--"Alick, my dear fellow, you are courageous enough, I admit, but at the same time, you must put yourself under the guidance of a brave and loyal old magistrate, who is not to be cowed and intimidated by a crew of midnight cut-throats. You'll gee now, Alick, my boy, what a touch of loyal courage can do. Upon my honor, and conscience, I will myself escort you home."

"By no means, sir," replied Purcel, "I could not think of putting you to such a risk, and inconvenience at this late hour."

"But I say by all manes, Alick--and as for inconvanience, it is none at all."

"But Mr. Purcel will expose neither himself nor you, my dear father,"

said Katherine; "he will be guided by good sense, and remain here to-night."

"Tut! you foolish cowardly girl, go to bed--you play loo very well, and have won seven-and-sixpence from me to-night. That's your province.

No, upon my sowl and honor, I'll see him home. What! is it for the intelligent and determined O'Driscol, as your brother John said--and who is well known to be a very divil incarnate when danger's before him--is it for such a man--the terror of evil-doers--to funk from a crew of White-boys! What would my friend the Castle say if it knew it?--divil resave the line ever it would correspond with me again. Get me my pistols, I say--a case for each pocket, and the blunderbush under my arm--then come on, M'Donough, as the play says, and blazes to him who runs last." Here he gave a lurch a little to the one side, after which he placed himself in something intended for a military att.i.tude, and drawing his hand down his whiskers, he inflated himself as if about to give the word of command, "Soldiers, steady,"--here he gave another lurch--"recover omes (arms)--charge bayonets--present--halt--to the right about--double quick--:bravo--you see what I could do, if placed in a military position."