Part 25 (2/2)
”I wish you had the Scripthur tied about your neck!” replied Anthony.
”How fond of it one o' the greatest thieves that ever missed the rope is! Why the fellow could plan a roguery with any man that ever danced the hangman's hornpipe, and yet he be's repatin' bits an' sc.r.a.ps of ould prayers, an' charms, an' stuff. Ay, indeed! Sure he has a va.r.s.e out o'
the Bible, that he thinks can prevent a man from bein' hung up any day!”
While Denny, the Big Mower, and the two Meehans were thus engaged in giving expression to their peculiar opinions, the Pedlar held a conversation of a different kind with Anne.
With the secrets of the family in his keeping, he commenced a rather penitent review of his own life, and expressed his intention of abandoning so dangerous a mode of acc.u.mulating wealth. He said that he thanked heaven he had already laid up sufficient for the wants of a reasonable man; that he understood farming and the management of sheep particularly well: that it was his intention to remove to a different part of the kingdom, and take a farm; and that nothing prevented him from having done this before, but the want of a helpmate to take care of his establishment: he added, that his present wife was of an intolerable temper, and a greater villain by fifty degrees than himself. He concluded by saying, that his conscience twitched him night and day for living with her, and that by abandoning her immediately, becoming truly religious, and taking Anne in her place, he hoped, he said, to atone in some measure for his former errors.
Anthony, however, having noticed the earnestness which marked the Pedlar's manner, suspected him of attempting to corrupt the principles of his daughter, having forgotten the influence which his own opinions were calculated to produce upon her heart.
”Martin,” said he, ”'twould be as well you ped attention to what we're sayin' in regard o' the thrial to-morrow, as to be palaverin' talk into the girl's ear that can't be good comin' from _your_ lips. Quit it, I say, quit it! _Corp an duoiwol_ (* My body to Satan)!--I won't allow such proceedins!”
”Swear till you blister your lips, Anthony,” replied Martin: ”as for me, bein' no residenthur, I'm not bound to it; an' what's more, I'm not suspected. 'Tis settin' some other bit o' work for yez I'll be, while you're all clearin' yourselves from stealin' honest Ca.s.sidy's horse. I wish we had him safely disposed of in the mane time, an' the money for him an' the other beasts in our pockets.”
Much more conversation of a similar kind pa.s.sed between them upon various topics connected with their profligacy and crimes. At length they separated for the night, after having concerted their plan of action for the ensuing scrutiny.
The next morning, before the hour appointed arrived, the parish, particularly the neighborhood of Carnmore, was struck with deep consternation. Labor became suspended, mirth disappeared, and every face was marked with paleness, anxiety, and apprehension. If two men met, one shook his head mysteriously, and inquired from the other, ”Did you hear the news?”
”Ay! ay! the Lord be about us all, I did! an' I pray G.o.d that it may lave the counthry as it came to it!”
”Oh, an' that it may, I humbly make supplication this day!”
If two women met, it was with similar mystery and fear. ”Vread, (*
Margaret) do you know what's at the Ca.s.sidys'?”
”Whisht, ahagur, I do; but let what will happen, sure it's best for us to say nothin'.”
”Say! the blessed Virgin forbid! I'd cut my hand off o' me, afore I'd spake a word about it; only that--”
”Whisht! woman--for mercy's sake--don't----”
And so they would separate, each crossing herself devoutly.
The meeting at Ca.s.sidy's was to take place that day at twelve o'clock; but, about two hours before the appointed time, Anne, who had been in some of the other houses, came into her father's, quite pale, breathless and trembling.
”Oh!” she exclaimed, with clasped hands, whilst the tears fell fast from her eyes, ”we'll be lost, ruined; did yez hear what's in the neighborhood wid the Ca.s.sidys?”
”Girl,” said the father, with more severity than he had ever manifested to her before, ”I never yet riz my hand to you, but _ma corp an duowol_, if you open your lips, I'll fell you where you stand. Do you want that cowardly uncle o' yours to be the manes o' hanging your father? Maybe that was one o' the lessons Martin gave you last night?” And as he spoke he knit his brows at her with that murderous scowl which was habitual to him. The girl trembled, and began to think that since her father's temper deepened in domestic outrage and violence as his crimes multiplied, the sooner she left the family the better. Every day, indeed, diminished that species of instinctive affection which she had entertained towards him; and this, in proportion as her reason ripened into a capacity for comprehending the dark materials of which his character was composed. Whether he himself began to consider detection at hand, or not, we cannot say; but it is certain, that his conduct was marked with a callous recklessness of spirit, which increased in atrocity to such a degree, that even his daughter could,only not look on him with disgust.
”What's the matter now?” inquired Denis, with alarm: ”is it anything about us, Anthony?”
”No, 'tisn't,” replied the other, ”anything about us! What 'ud it be about us for? 'Tis a lyin' report that some cunnin' knave spread, hopin'
to find out the guilty. But hear me, Denis, once for all; we're goin' to clear ourselves--now listen--an' let my words sink deep into you heart: if you refuse to swear this day--no matther what's put into your hand--you'll do harm--that's all: have courage, man; but should you cow, your coorse will be short; an' mark, even if you escape me, your sons won't: I have it all planned: an' _corp an duowol!_ thim you won't know from Adam will revenge me, if I am taken up through your unmanliness.”
”'Twould be betther for us to lave the counthry,” said Anne; ”we might slip away as it is.”
”Ay,” said the father, ”an' be taken by the neck afore we'd get two miles from the place! no, no, girl; it's the safest way to brazen thim out. Did you hear me, Denis?”
Denis started, for he had been evidently pondering on the mysterious words of Anne, to which his brother's anxiety to conceal them gave additional mystery. The coffin, too, recurred to him; and he feared that the death shadowed out by it would in some manner or other occur in the family. He was, in fact, one of those miserable villains with but half a conscience;--that is to say, as much as makes them the slaves of the fear which results from crime, without being the slightest impediment to their committing it. It was no wonder he started at the deep pervading tones of his brother's voice, for the question was put with ferocious energy.
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