The Tithe-Proctor Part 39

The hectic of a moment, as Sterne beautifully says, came across his fine and handsome features as he uttered the words; and he added, "He forgets, my love, that my family is not, as your grandpapa says, inferior to his own."

"Do not dwell on that, dearest Charles," she added, "but let us hear good old grandpapa out."

"No, my dear Maria, I differ with your papa; Mr. Temple was not an educated beggar, but an educated and accomplished gentleman, whose family, in point of blood and birth; is equal even to ours. Still, my love, you know that on many accounts, and as persons to whom you were so justly dear, and who felt such a strong interest in your settlement and position in life, we had reason to feel offended at the step you took in marrying him. That, however, is past--and now let it be forgotten. Your papa still loves you tenderly, my Maria; for I could observe that in a pa.s.sage where he said it was necessary that you should suffer a little longer, there were the marks of tears--and of tears too, that fell thickly. Now, however, for something that will cheer my own favorite.

I have succeeded in getting Mr. Temple appointed to the living of Ballynolan, in a safe and quiet part of the country, not many miles from Drumgooran Castle."

"That you know my dear Charles, is his own family seat."

"I know, my love, it is; however, to proceed--from Drumgooran Castle; so that I will once more enjoy the pleasure of having you near me.. The living is worth about five hundred a-year, after paying two curates and all other claims; so that, with frugality and moderation, you may live comfortably at least. Ah! my dear Maria, you knew the avenue to grandpapa's affections, when you called your eldest son after him.

Present him with the enclosed, in my name, and tell Mr. Temple that he shall have a communication from me in a few days--it will be one of business; and I trust soon to have the pleasure of making his acquaintance.

"I am, my dear Maria, your ever affectionate grandfather,

"TAVNIMORE."

The enclosure alluded to was a bank post-bill for two hundred pounds.

It is unnecessary, however, to dwell upon the happiness which this communication conferred upon Mrs. Temple and her affectionate family.

She saw her accomplished and amiable husband's brilliant talents and many rare virtues, about to be rewarded--she saw poverty, distress, and famine driven from their hearth--she saw her beloved children about to be placed in circ.u.mstances not unbecoming their birth; and, having contemplated all this, she wept once more with a sense of happiness, as pure as it was unexpected.

Breakfast was now over--a plain and severely frugal one, by the way, it was--and her husband was about to proceed to Lisnisgola, in order to get the bank post-bill changed, when, from the parlor where they sat, he saw the _Cannie Soogah_ approaching the hall-door, the huge pack, as usual, on his shoulder.

"Here, my love, comes that benevolent pedlar," he exclaimed, "whose conduct, on the occasion you mentioned, was at once so delicate and generous."

He then stepped to the window, and raised it as our friend approached, who, on seeing him, put his hand to his hat, exclaiming, "Many happy returns of the saison, sir, to you and your family! My Christmas-box on you!"

"I thank you, my friend," replied Mr. Temple, "and I sincerely wish you the same."

Mrs. Temple now approached also, bent her head kindly and condescendingly, in token of salutation, with a blush which she could not prevent. The worthy pedlar perfectly understood the blush--a circ.u.mstance by which he was a good deal embarra.s.sed himself, and which occasioned him to feel in rather a difficult position. He felt flattered, however, by her condescension; and instead of merely touching his hat to her he pulled it off and stood respectfully uncovered.

"Put on your hat, my friend," said Temple; "the morning is too cold to stand with a bare head--pray put it on."

"I know, your honor," replied the pedlar, "the respect that is due to you both, and especially, sir," he added, in that tone, and with that peculiar deference, so gratifying to a husband who loves and is proud of his wife--"especially, sir, to her, for I know her family well--as who doesn't!"

"By the way," said Mrs. Temple, "I think you committed a mistake on the occasion of your last call here?"

"A mistake, ma'am!" said he, with well-feigned surprise--"well, indeed, ma'am, it's not unlikely; for, to tell you the truth, I've a vile mimory--sorra thing a'most but I disremimber, in a day or two after it happens."

"Do you not remember," she proceeded, with a melancholy smile, "a negotiation we had when you were here last?"

"A what, ma'am?"

"A--a--purchase you made from me," she added.

"From you!" he exclaimed, with apparent astonishment; "well, then, I can't say that I have any recollection of it--I remember something--that is, some dalins or other I had wid the maid, but I don't remember purchasin' anything from you, ma'am."

"It was a shawl," she replied, "which you purchased, if you remember, and paid for, but which you forgot to bring with you."

"Why, then," he exclaimed, after rubbing his head with his fore-finger, "bad cess to me if I can remimber it; but the truth is, ma'am, I make so many purchases, and so many sales, that like the priest and them that confess to him, the last thing fairly drives the one that went afore it out o' my head."

"You paid six guineas," continued Mrs. Temple, "for the shawl, but left it behind you."

"Well, bedad, ma'am," said the pedlar, smiling, "it's aisy to see that you're no rogue, at any rate. In the present case, thin," he added, "I suppose you wish to give me the shawl?"

"Oh, certainly," she replied, "if you wish for it; but at the same time I would much rather keep the shawl and return you the money."

"I'm in no hurry, ma'am for either shawl or money, if it isn't--hem--if it isn't just convanient."

"You are an honest, sterling fellow," said her husband, "and I a.s.sure you that we thoroughly appreciate your delicacy and worth. I know Mrs.

Temple would prefer keeping the shawl, and if you will call in the course of the evening, I shall return the money to you. I must first go into Lisnagola to get change for a note."

"Thank you, sir," replied the Cannie, "but it is time enough--I am in no hurry at all--not the laist; it will do when I call again.. And now that that's settled--and many thanks to you, ma'am," he added, bowing to Mrs.

Temple, "for thinkin' of it, I'd be glad to have a word or two wid you, sir, if you plaise."

"Certainly," said Mr. Temple, going to the hall-door, and opening it, "come in a moment; leave your pack in the hall there, and come this way."

He then proceeded to the library, whither the pedlar followed him; and after looking about him with something like caution, he said, "You know Mr. Purcel, the proctor, sir?"

"Of course I do," replied Mr. Temple.

"I'm not askin' it as a question," he proceeded; "but I wish to say, that as you do know him and his sons, it's possible you may save them from destruction. I was tould by a stranger that I never seen before, and that I didn't know from Adam, that his house is to be attacked either this night or to-morrow night."

"Can you not say which?" asked Mr. Temple.

"No," replied the Cannie Soogah; "I axed the stranger the same question, and he couldn't tell me. Now, sir, you know them, and I know how much they respect you; and the thing is this,--I think if you'd see them, and thry to get them to go to Lisnagola, or some safe place, takin' their lives and money along wid them, you'd save them from murdher; they'd be apt to listen to you; but as for me, or the likes o' me, they'd laugh at me; indeed, they're rather wishin' for an attack, in hopes they might get revenge upon the people, for, to tell you the truth, they've been foolish enough to say so; an' as their words has gone abroad, the people's determined, it seems, to let them know which o' them is strongest."

"Well," replied the curate, "I am sorry to hear this--it is dreadful.

That they are unpopular--nay, detested--I know; as I do, also, that they have latterly gone daring lengths--oppressive and unjustifiable lengths --in collecting t.i.thes. I shall, however, see them, and endeavor to make them take refuge in some place of security."

"It will be a good act," said the pedlar, "and if I can do anything, humble as I am, to save them, I'll do it."

"I think they ought to get a party of police to protect the house,"

observed Mr. Temple.

"I know they ought, sir," replied the pedlar, "but the truth is, they're so proud and foolhardy, that the very mention of such a thing throws them into a fury."

"That is unfortunate," said the other. "At all events, I shall leave nothing undone within my power to prevail on them to take steps for their security. You may rely on it," he added, "that whatever I can do for that purpose, I shall do."

"Well, now," said the Cannie, "my mind, thank G.o.d's, aisier. I'll lose no time myself in seein' what I can do to prevent this business; that is, I mane, their stayin' in the house," he added, as if checking or correcting himself.

He then bade Mr. Temple good morning, and hurried away, without waiting to see his fair friend, Lilly, as was his custom to do.

CHAPTER XVII.--Midnight Court of Justice

--Sentence of the Proctor and His Sons.