Part 31 (1/2)
”'Only that the childer were changed, and you know it as well as I do.' But she swore that she knew nothing about it, and that she was not there when either of the children were born, and I believe that she told the truth. 'Well,' says I, 'who tended the lady?'
”'My own mother,' says Ella. 'And if it were so, who can know but she?'
”'Then,' says I, 'Ella, jewel, I've made a vow that I'll never marry, till I find out the truth of this matter; so the sooner you get it out of your mother the better.' Then she cried very much, and I was almost ready to cry too, to see how the poor thing was vexed at the idea of not being married. After a while she swabbed up her cheeks, and kissing me, wished me good-bye, swearing by all the saints that the truth should come out somehow or another.
”It's this morning that I saw her again, as agreed upon yesterday, and red her eyes were with weeping, poor thing; and she clung to me and begged me to forgive her, and not to leave her; and then she told me that her mother was startled when she put the question to her, and chewed it, and cursed her when she insisted upon the truth; and how she had fallen on her knees, and begged her mother not to stand in the way of her happiness, as she would die if she did (I leave you to guess if my heart didn't smite me when she said that, Peter, but the mischief was done), and how her mother had talked about her oath and Father O'Toole, and said that she would speak to him.
”Now, Peter, I'm sure that the childer have been changed and that the nurse has been sent to the Indies to be out of the way. They say they were to go to Plymouth. The husband's name is, of course, O'Sullivan; so I'd recommend you to take a coach and see what you can do in that quarter; in the meantime, I'll try all I can for the truth in this, and will write again as soon as I can find out any thing more. All I want to do is to get Father McGrath to go to the old devil of a mother, and I'll answer for it, he'll frighten her into swearing anything. G.o.d bless you, Peter and give my love to all the family.
”Yours ever,
”TERENCE O'BRIEN.”
This letter of O'Brien was the subject of much meditation. The advice to go to Plymouth was too late, the troops having sailed some time; and I had no doubt but that Mary Sullivan and her husband were among those who had embarked at the time that I was at the port to pa.s.s my examination. Show the letter to my father I would not, as it would only have put him in a fever, and his interference would, in all probability, have done more harm than good. I therefore waited quietly for more intelligence, and resolved to apply to my grandfather to obtain my promotion.
A few days afterwards I set off for Eagle Park, and arrived about eleven o'clock in the morning. I sent in my name and was admitted into the library, where I found Lord Privilege in his easy chair as usual.
”Well, child,” said he, remaining on his chair, and not offering even one finger to me, ”what do you want, that you come here without an invitation?”
”Only, my lord, to inquire after your health, and to thank you for your kindness to me in procuring me and Mr O'Brien the appointment to a fine frigate.”
”Yes,” replied his lords.h.i.+p, ”I recollect--I think I did so, at your request, and I think I heard some one say that you have behaved well, and had been mentioned in the despatches.”
”Yes, my lord,” replied I, ”and I have since pa.s.sed my examination for lieutenant.”
”Well, child, I'm glad to hear it. Remember me to your father and family.” And his lords.h.i.+p cast his eyes down upon his book which he had been reading.
My father's observations appeared to be well grounded, but I would not leave the room until I had made some further attempt.
”Has your lords.h.i.+p heard from my uncle?”
”Yes,” replied he, ”I had a letter from him yesterday. The child is quite well. I expect them all here in a fortnight or three weeks, to live with me altogether. I am old--getting very old, and I shall have much to arrange with your uncle before I die.”
”If I might request a favour of your lords.h.i.+p, it would be to beg that you would interest yourself a little in obtaining my promotion. A letter from your lords.h.i.+p to the First Lord--only a few lines--”
”Well, child, I see no objection--only I am very old, too old to write now.” And his lords.h.i.+p again commenced reading.
I must do Lord Privilege the justice to state that he evidently was fast verging to a state of second childhood. He was much bowed down since I had last seen him, and appeared infirm in body as well as mind.
I waited at least a quarter of an hour before his lords.h.i.+p looked up.
”What, not gone yet, child? I thought you had gone home.”
”Your lords.h.i.+p was kind enough to say that you had no objection to write a few lines to the First Lord in my behalf. I trust your lords.h.i.+p will not refuse me--”
”Well,” replied he, peevishly, ”so I did--but I am too old, too old to write--I cannot see--I can hardly hold a pen.”
”Will your lords.h.i.+p allow me the honour of writing the letter for your lords.h.i.+p's signature?”
”Well, child,--yes--I've no objection. Write as follows--no--write anything you please--and I'll sign it. I wish your uncle William was come.”