Willy Reilly Part 53

"Why not, you villain? I have been directed here, and told that I would find my game under your roof."

"In the first place," replied the old man, with a firm and intrepid voice, "I am no villain; and in the next, I say, that if any man directed you to this house in quest of a priest, he must have purposely sent you upon a fool's errand. I am a Protestant, Captain Smellpriest; but, Protestant as I am, I tell you to your face that if I could give shelter to a poor persecuted priest, and save him from the clutches of such men as you and Sir Robert Whitecraft, I would do it. In the meantime, there is neither priest nor friar under this roof; you can come in and search in the house, if you wish."

"Why, gog's 'ouns, father," exclaimed one of the men, "how does it come that we find you here?"

"Very simply, John," replied his father--for such he was--"I took this cottage, and the bit of land that goes with it, from honest Andy Morrow, and we are not many hours in it. The house was empty for the last six months, so that I say again, whoever sent Captain Smellpriest here sent him upon a fool's errand--upon a wild-goose chase."

The gallant captain started upon hearing these latter words.

"What does he say," he asked--"a wild-goose chase! Right--right,"

he added, in a soliloquy; "Strong is at the bottom of it, the black scoundrel! but still, let us search the house; the old fellow admits that he would shelter a priest. Search the house I say.

'There was an old prophecy found in a bog, Lillibullero, bullen ala, &c., &c.'"

The house was accordingly searched, but it is unnecessary to add that neither priest nor friar was found under the roof, nor any nook or corner in which either one or the other could have been concealed.

The party, who then directed their steps homewards, were proceeding across the fields to the mountain road which ran close by, and parallel with the stripe, when they perceived at once that Smellpriest was in a rage, by the fact of his singing "Lillibullero;" for, whenever either his rage or loyalty happened to run high, he uniformly made a point to indulge himself in singing that celebrated ballad.

"By jabers," said one of them to his companions, "there will be a battle royal between the captain and Mr. Strong if he finds the parson at home before him."

"If there won't be a fight with the parson, there will with the wife,"

replied the other. "Hang the same parson," he added; "many a dreary chase he has sent us upon, with nothing but the fatigue of a dark and slavish journey for our pains. With what bitterness he's giving us 'Lillibullero,' and he scarcely able to sit on his horse! I think I'll advance, and ride beside him, otherwise, he may get an ugly tumble on this hard road."

He accordingly did so, observing, as he got near him, "I have taken the liberty to ride close beside you, lest, as the night is dark, your horse might stumble."

"What! do you think I'm drunk, you scoundrel?--fall back, sir, immediately.

"'Lillibullero, bullen ala.'

"I say I'm not drunk; but I'm in a terrible pa.s.sion at that treacherous scoundrel; but no matter, I saw something to-night--never mind, I say.

"'There was an old prophecy found in a bog, Lillibullero, bullen ala;

That Ireland should be ruled by an a.s.s and a Dog, Lillibullero, bullen ala;

And now that same prophecy has come to pa.s.s-- Lillibullero, bullen ala;

For Talbot's the Dog, and James is the a.s.s, Lillibullero, bullen ala.'

"Never mind, I say; hang me, but I'll crop the villain, or crop both, which is better still--steady, Schomberg--curse you."

The same rut or chasm across the more open road on which they had now got out, and that had nearly been so fatal to Mr. Brown, became decidedly so to unfortunate Smellpriest. The horse, as his rider spoke, stopped suddenly, and, shying quickly to the one side, the captain was pitched off, and fell with his whole weight upon the hard pavement. The man was an unwieldy, and consequently a heavy man, and the unexpected fall stunned him into insensibility. After about ten minutes or so he recovered his consciousness, however, and having been once more placed upon his horse, was conducted home, two or three of his men, with much difficulty, enabling him to maintain his seat in the saddle. In this manner they reached his house, where they stripped and put him to bed, having observed, to their consternation, that strong gushes of blood welled, every three or four minutes, from his mouth.

The grief of his faithful wife was outrageous; and Mr. Strong, who was still there kindly awaiting his safe return, endeavored to compose her distraction as well as he could.

"My dear madam," said he, "why will you thus permit your grief to overcome you? You will most a.s.suredly injure your own precious health by this dangerous outburst of sorrow. The zealous and truly loyal captain is not, I trust, seriously injured; he will recover, under G.o.d, in a few days. You may rest a.s.sured, my dear Mrs. Smellpriest, that his life is too valuable to be taken at this unhappy period. No, he will, I trust and hope, be spared until a strong anti-Popish Government shall come in, when, if he is to lose it, he will lose it in some great and G.o.dly exploit against the harlot of abominations."

"Alas! my dear Mr. Strong, that is all very kind of you, to support my breaking heart with such comfort; but, when he is gone, what will become of me?"

"You will not be left desolate, my dear madam--you will be supported--cheered--consoled. Captain my friend, how do you feel now?

Are you easier?"

"I am," replied the captain feebly--for he had not lost his speech--"come near me, Strong."

"With pleasure, dear captain, as becomes my duty, not only as a friend, but as an humble and unworthy minister of religion. I trust you are not in danger, but, under any circ.u.mstances, it is best, you know, to be prepared for the worst. Do not then be cast down, nor allow your heart to sink into despair. Remember that you have acted the part of a zealous and faithful champion on behalf of our holy Church, and that you have been a blessed scourge of Popery in this Pope-ridden country. Let that reflection, then, be your consolation. Think of the many priests you have hunted--and hunted successfully too; think of how many bitter Papists of every cla.s.s you have been the blessed means of committing to the justice of our laws; think of the numbers of Popish priests and bishops you have, in the faithful discharge of your pious duty, committed to chains, imprisonment, transportation, and the scaffold--think of all these things, I say, and take comfort to your soul by the retrospect. Would you wish to receive the rites and consolations of religion at my hands?"

"Come near me, Strong," repeated Smell-priest. "The rites of religion from you--the rights of perdition as soon, you hypocritical scoundrel;"

and as he spoke he caught a gush of blood as it issued from his mouth and flung it with all the strength he had left right into the clergyman's face. "Take that, you villain," he added; "I die in every sense with my blood upon you. And as for my hunting of priests and Papists, it is the only thing that lies at this moment heavy over my heart. And as for that wife of mine, I'm sorry she's not in my place.

I know, of course, I'll be d.a.m.ned; but it can't be helped now. If I go down, as down I will go, won't I have plenty of friends to keep me in countenance. I know--I feel I'm dying; but I must take the consequences.

In the meantime, my best word and wish is, that that vile jade shan't be permitted to approach or touch my body after I am dead. My curse upon you both! for you brought me to this untimely death between you."

"Why, my dear Smellpriest--" exclaimed the wife.

"Don't call me Smellpriest," he replied, interrupting her; "my name is Norbury. But it doesn't matter--it's all up with me, and I know it will soon be all down with me; for down, down I'll go. Strong, you hypocritical scoundrel, don't be a persecutor: look at me on the very brink of perdition for it. And now the only comfort I have is, that I let the poor Popish bishop off. I could not shoot him, or at any rate make a prisoner of him, and he engaged in the worship of G.o.d."

"Alas!" whispered Strong, "the poor man is verging on rank Popery--he is hopeless."

"But, Tom, dear," said the wife, "why are you displeased with me, your own faithful partner? I that was so loving and affectionate to you?

I that urged you on in the path of duty? I that scoured your arms and regimentals with my own hands--that mixed you your punch before you went after the black game, as you used to say, and, again, had it ready for you when you returned to precious Mr. Strong and me after a long hunt.

Don't die in anger with your own Grizzey, as you used to call me, my dear Tom, or, if you do, I feel that I won't long survive you."

"Ah! you jade," replied Tom, "didn't I see the wink between you to-night, although you thought I was drunk? Ah, these wild-goose chases!"

"Tom, dear, we are both innocent. Oh, forgive your own Grizaey!"

"So I do, you jade--my curse on you both."

Whether it was the effort necessary to speak, in addition to the excitement occasioned by his suspicions, and whether these suspicions were well founded or not, we do not presume to say; but the fact was, that, after another outgulp of blood had come up, he drew a long, deep sigh, his under-jaw fell, and the wretched, half-penitent Captain Smellpriest breathed his last. After which his wife, whether from sorrow or remorse, became insensible, and remained in that state for a considerable time; but at length she recovered, and, after expressing the most violent sorrow, literally drove the Rev. Mr. Strong out of the house, with many deep and bitter curses. But to return:

In a few minutes the parties dispersed, and Folliard, too much absorbed in the fates of Reilly and Whitecraft, prepared to ride to Sligo, to ascertain if any thing could be done for the baronet. In the meantime, while he and his old friend c.u.mmiskey are on their way to see that gentleman, we will ask the attention of our readers to the state of Helen's mind, as it was affected by the distressing events which had so rapidly and recently occurred. We need not a.s.sure them that deep anxiety for the fate of her unfortunate lover lay upon her heart like gloom of death itself. His image and his natural n.o.bility of character, but, above all, the purity and delicacy of his love for herself his manly and faithful attachment to his religion, under temptations which few hearts could resist--temptations of which she herself was, beyond all comparison, the most trying and the most difficult to be withstood; his refusal to leave the country on her account, even when the bloodhounds of the law were pursuing him to his death in every direction; and the reflection that this resolution of abiding by her, and watching over her welfare and happiness, and guarding her, as far as he could, from domestic persecution--all these reflections, in short, crowded upon her mind with such fearful force that her reason began to totter, and she felt apprehensive that she might not be able to bear the trial which Reilly's position now placed before her in the most hideous colors. On the other hand, there was Whitecraft, a man certainly who had committed many crimes and murders and burnings, often, but not always, upon his own responsibility; a man who, she knew, entertained no manly or tender affection for her; he too about to meet a violent death! That she detested him with an abhorrence as deep as ever woman entertained against man was true; yet she was a woman, and this unhappy fate that impended over him was not excluded out of the code of her heart's humanity. She wished him also to be saved, if only that he might withdraw from Ireland and repent of his crimes. Altogether she was in a state bordering on frenzy and despair, and was often incapable of continuing a sustained conversation.

When Whitecraft reached the jail in his carriage, attended by a guard of troopers, the jailor knew not what to make of it; but seeing the carriage, which, after a glance or two, he immediately recognized as that of the well-known grand juror, he came out, with hat in hand, bowing most obsequiously.

"I hope your honor's well; you are coming to inspect the prisoners, I suppose? Always active on behalf of Church and State, Sir Robert."

"Come, Mr. O'Shaughnessy," said one of the constables, "get on with no nonsense. You're a mighty Church and State man now; but I remember when there was as rank a rebel under your coat as ever thumped a craw. Sir Robert, sir, is here as our prisoner, and will soon be yours, for murder and arson, and G.o.d knows what besides. Be pleased to walk into the hatch, Sir Robert, and there we surrender you to Mr. O'Shaughnessy, who will treat you well if you pay him well."

They then entered the hatch. The constable produced the _mittimus_ and the baronet's person both together, after which they withdrew, having failed to get the price of a gla.s.s from the baronet as a reward for their civility.

Such scenes have been described a hundred times, and we consequently shall not delay our readers upon this. The baronet, indeed, imagined that from his rank and influence the jailer might be induced to give him comfortable apartments. He was in, however, for two capital felonies, and the jailer, who was acquainted with the turn that public affairs had taken, told him that upon his soul and conscience if the matter lay with him he would not put his honor among the felons; but then he had no discretion, because it was as much as his place was worth to break the rules--a thing he couldn't think of doing as an honest man and an upright officer.

"But whatever I can do for you, Sir Robert, I'll do."

"You will let me have pen and ink, won't you?"

"Well, let me see. Yes, I will, Sir Robert; I'll stretch that far for the sake of ould times."