Part 7 (2/2)

”No, no, Crab,” whispered Vyner; ”I don't think we can do anything in that quarter.”

”Would he sell us one of them, my man?” cried Grab to the peasant.

”He'd give it to you,” said the man, half doggedly.

”Yes, but we'd rather make a deal for it. Look here, my good fellow; do you go back and fetch us the longest and stoutest of those poles, and here's a guinea for your own trouble. Do you understand me?”

The man eyed the coin curiously, but made no motion to touch it. It was a metal he had never seen before, nor had he the faintest clue to its value.

”Would you rather have these, then?” said Crab, taking a handful of silver from his pocket and offering it to him.

The man drew the back of his hand across his eyes, as if the sight had dazzled him, and muttered something in Irish.

”Come, say you'll do it,” said Crab, encouragingly.

”Is there any answer for my master, to his letter, I mean?” said the man, looking at Vyner.

”No, I think not; wait a moment. No, none,” said Vyner, after a moment of straggle; and the words were not well uttered, when the fellow pushed off his boat, and struck out with all his vigour for the sh.o.r.e.

”What a suspicious creature your savage is; that man evidently believed you meant to bribe him to some deep treachery against his master,” said Grenfell.

”Do let the poor peasant escape,” cried Vyner, laughingly, while he hastened below to avoid any further display of the other's malevolence, calling out to Mr. Crab to follow him. ”Let us get under weigh with the land breeze this evening,” said he.

”There's a strong current sets in here, Sir. I'd as soon have daylight for it, if it's the same to you.”

”Be it so. To-morrow morning, then, Crab;” and, so saying, he took up a book, and tried to interest himself with it.

The peasant meanwhile gained the land, and made the best of his way homeward.

”Tell the master there's no answer, Molly,” said he, as she stood wiping the perspiration from her face with her ap.r.o.n at the door of a long, low-roofed building, into which all the a.s.sembled guests were congregated.

”Indeed, and I won't, Tim Hennesy,” said she, tartly. ”'Tis enough is on my own bones to-day, not to be thinking of letters and writings. Go in and help Dan Neven with that long trunk there, and then bring a hatchet and a hammer.”

The man obeyed without a word; and, having a.s.sisted to deposit a heavy deal box like a sea-chest in the place a.s.signed it, perceived that several others of varions sizes and shapes lay around; all of which formed objects of intense curiosity to the visitors, if one were to judge from the close scrutiny they underwent, as well as the frequent tapping by knuckles and sticks, to a.s.sist the explorer to a guess at what was contained within.

A word or two will explain the scene. When Molly Ryan came to inform her master that the relatives of his late wife intended to sail by the evening's tide, and wished to pay their respects to him personally, before departure, he excused himself on some pretext of illness; but to cover his want of courtesy, he directed her to tell them that they were free to take, each of them, some memorial of her that was gone, and ordered Molly to have all the boxes that contained her effects conveyed into the long storehouse.

”Let them take what they like, Molly,” said he, abruptly, as though not wis.h.i.+ng to discuss the matter at more length.

”And as much as they like?” asked she.

”Yes, as much as they like,” said he, motioning that he would be left in peace and undisturbed.

Loud and full were the utterances of praise that this munificence evoked. ”Wasn't he the real gentleman?” ”Wasn't it the heart's blood of a good stock?” ”Wasn't it like one of the 'ould race,' that could think of an act at once so graceful and so liberal?” ”After all, it wasn't proud he was. It was just a way he had; and 'poor Shusy, that was gone,' was the lucky woman to have been his wife.” ”To be sure, it was a solitary kind of life she led, and without friends or companions; but she had the best of everything.” Such were the first commentaries. Later on, grat.i.tude cooled down to a quiet rationalism, and they agreed that he was only giving away what was no use to him. ”He'll surely not marry again, and what could he do with cloaks, and shawls, and gowns, that would only be motheaten if he kept them?”

”These two here is linen,” said Molly, with an air of decision, ”and I suppose you don't want to see them.”

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