Part 21 (1/2)
let me look at these marks: ay, about five yards--there's the track of feet about five yards before him--here they turn about, an' go back.
Here, Savior o' the world! see here! the mark, clane an' clear, of the b.u.t.t o' the gun! Now if that boy stretched afore us had the gun in his hand the time she went off, could the mark of it be here? Bring me down the gun--an' the curse o' G.o.d upon her for an unlucky thief, whoever had her! It's thrue!--it's too thrue!” he continued--”the man that had the gun stood on this spot.”
”It's a falsity,” said Frank; ”it's a d.a.m.nable falsity. Rody Teague, I call upon you to spake for me. Didn't you see, when we went out to the hills, that it was Mike carried the gun, an' not me?”
”I did,” replied Rody. ”I can swear to that.”
”Ay,” exclaimed Prank, with triumph; ”an' you yourself, Darby, saw us, as I said, makin' up whatsomever little differences there was betwixt us.”
”I did,” replied the mendicant, sternly; ”but I heard you say, no longer ago than last night--say!--why you swh.o.r.e it, man alive!--that if you wouldn't have Peggy Gartland, he never should. In your own stable I heard it, an' I was the manes of disappointin' you an' your gang, when you thought to take away the girl by force. You're well known too often to carry a fair face when the heart under it is black wid you.”
”All I can say is,” observed young Reillaghan, ”that if it comes out agin you that you played him foul, all the earth won't save your life; I'll have your heart's blood, if I should hang for it a thousand times.”
This dialogue was frequently interrupted by the sobbings and clamor of the women, and the detached conversation of some of the men, who were communicating to each other their respective opinions upon the melancholy event which had happened.
Darby More now brought Reillaghan's father aside, and thus addressed him:--
”Gluntho! (* Listen)--to tell G.o.d's thruth, I've sthrong suspicions that your son was murdhered. This sacred thing that I put the cra.s.s upon people's breast wid, saves people from hangin' an' unnatural deaths.
Frank spoke to me last night, no longer ago, to come up an' mark it an'
him to-morrow. My opinion is, that he intinded to murdher him at that time, an' wanted to have a protection agin what might happen to him in regard o' the black deed.”
”Can we prove it agin him?” inquired the disconsolate father: ”I know it'll be hard, as there was no one present but themselves; an' if he did it, surely he'll not confess it.”
”We may make him do it maybe,” said the mendicant; ”the villain's asily frightened, an' fond o' charms an' pisthrogues,* an' sich holy things, for all his wickedness. Don't say a word. We'll take him by, surprise; I'll call upon him to touch the corpse. Make them women--an' och, it's hard to expect it--make them stop clappin' their hands an' cryin'; an'
let there be a dead silence, if you can.”
During this and some other observations made by Darby, Frank had got the gun in his possession; and, whilst seeming to be engaged in looking at it, and examining the lock, he actually contrived to reload it without having been observed.
”Now, neighbors,” said Darby, ”hould your tongues for a weeshy start, till I ax Frank M'Kenna a question or two. Frank M'Kenna, as you hope to meet G.o.d, at Judgment, did you take his life that's lyin' a corpse before us'?”
”I did not,” replied M'Kenna; ”I could clear myself on all the books in Europe, that he met his death as I tould you; an' more nor that,”
he added, dropping upon his knees, and uncovering his head, ”may I die widout priest or prayer--widout help, hope, or happiness, upon the spot where he's now stretched, if I murdhered or shot him.”
”I say amin to that,” replied Darby; ”Oxis Doxis Glorioxis!--So far, that's right, if the blood of him's not an you. But there's one thing more to be done: will you walk over undher the eye of G.o.d, an' touch the corpse? Hould back, neighbors, an' let him come over alone: I an' Owen Reillaghan will stand here wid the lights, to see if the corpse bleeds.”
”Give me, too, a light,” said M'Kenna's father; ”my son must get fair play, anyway: must be a witness myself to it, an' will, too.”
”It's but rasonable,” said Owen Reillaghan; ”come over beside Darby an' myself: I'm willin' that your son should stand or fall by what'll happen.”
Frank's father, with a taper in his hand, immediately went, with a pale face and trembling steps, to the place appointed for him beside the corpse, where he took his stand.
When young M'Kenna heard Darby's last question he seemed as if seized by an inward spasm: the start which he gave, and his gaspings for breath, were visible to all present. Had he seen the spirit of the murdered man before him, his horror could not have been greater; for this ceremony had been considered a most decisive test in cases of suspicion of murder--an ordeal, indeed, to which few murderers wished to submit themselves. In addition to this we may observe, that Darby's knowledge of the young man's character was correct; with all his crimes he was weak-minded and superst.i.tious.
He stood silent for some time after the ordeal had been proposed to him; his hair became literally erect, with the dread of this formidable scrutiny, his cheeks turned white, and the cold perspiration fell from him in large drops. All his strength appeared to have departed from him; he stood, as if hesitating, and even energy necessary to stand seemed to be the result of an effort.
”Remember,” said Darby, pulling out the large crucifix which was attached to his heads, ”that the eye of G.o.d is upon you. If you've committed the murdher, thrimble; if not, Frank, you've little to fear in touchin' the corpse.”
Frank had not uttered a word; but, leaning himself on the gun, he looked wildly around him, cast his eyes up to the stormy sky, then turned them with a dead glare upon the corpse and the crucifix.
”Do you confiss the murdher?” said Darby.