Part 35 (2/2)
”That's what we call in this part of the counthry--a lie,” replied Jemmy. ”Do you understand what that manes?”
”No one knows what an' outrageous ould blackguard he is betther than yourself,” proceeded the pedlar; ”an' how he harrishes the poor.”
”That's ditto repated,” responded Jemmy; ”you're improvrn'--but tell me now do you know any one that he harrished?”
This was indeed a hazardous question on the part of Jemmy; who, by the way, put it solely upon the presumption of the peddlar's ignorance of d.i.c.k's proceedings as a landlord, in consequence of his (the pedlar) being a stranger.
”Who did you ever know that he harrished, i' you please?”
”Look at the Daltons,” replied the other; ”what do you call his conduct to them?”
Jemmy, who, whenever he felt himself deficient in truth, always made up for the want of it by warmth of temper, now turned shortly upon his antagonist, and replied, in a spirit very wide of the argument--
”What do I call his conduct to them? What do you call the nose on your face, my codger? Divil a sich an impident crature ever I met.”
”It would be no wondher that the curse o' G.o.d would come on him for his tratement to that unfortunate and respectable family,” responded the pedlar.
”The curse o' G.o.d knows where to fall best,” replied Jemmy, ”or it's not in the county jail ould Condy Dalton 'ud be for murdher this day.”
”But,” returned the other, ”isn't it a disgraceful thing to be, as they say he and yourself is, a pair o' scourges in the hands o' G.o.d for your fellow-creatures; an' in troth you're both fit for it by all accounts.”
”Troth,” replied Jemmy, whose gall was fast rising, ”it's a scourge wid nine tails to it ought to go to your back. The Daltons desarved all they got at his hands; an' the same pack was never anything else than a hot-brained crew, that 'ud knock you on the head to-day, and groan over you to-morrow. He sarved them right, an' he's a liar that says to the contrary; so if you have a pocket for that put it in it.”
Jemmy, in fact, was now getting rapidly into a towering pa.s.sion, for it mattered little how high in violence his own pitched battles with d.i.c.k ran, he never suffered, nor could suffer a human being to abuse his master behind his back, but himself. So confirmed, however, by habit, was his spirit of contradiction, that had the pedlar begun to praise d.i.c.k, Jemmy would immediately have attacked him without remorse, and scarcely have left a rag of his character together.
”It's a shame for you,” proceeded the pedlar, ”to defend an' ould sinner like him; but then as there's a pair of you, that's not unnatural; every rogue will back his brother. I could name the place, any way, that'll hould you both yet.”
”An' I could,” replied Jemmy, ”name the piece of machinery that'll be apt to hould you, if you give the masther any more abuse. Whether you'll grow in it or not, is more than I know, but be me sowl, we'll plant you there any how. Do you know what the stocks manes? Faith, many a spare hour you've sarved there, I go bail, that is, when, you had nothing else to do--an' by the way of raycreation jist.”
”Ay,” said the pedlar, ”listen how he sticks to the ould villain--but sure, if you put any other two blisthers together, they'll do the same.”
”My own opinion is,” observed Hanlon's aunt, ”that it's a pity of the Daltons, at any raite. Every one feels for them--but still the hand o'
G.o.d an' his curse, I'm afeard, is upon them.”
”An' that's more, maybe, than you know,” replied Jemmy. ”Maybe G.o.d's only punis.h.i.+ng them, bekaise he loves them. It's good to have our suffering in this world.”
”Afther all,” said the pedlar, ”I'm afeard myself, too, that the wrath o' the Almighty has marked them out. Indeed, I'm sure of it.”
”An' maybe that's not the only lie you're sure of,” replied Jemmy. ”It's a subject, any way, you don't undherstand. No,” he proceeded, ”by all accounts, Charley, it would wring any one's heart to see him taken away in his ould age from his miserable family and childre, and then he's so humble, too, and so resigned to the will an' way o' G.o.d. He's lyin'
ill in the gaol. I seen him yestherday--I went to see him an' to say whatever I could to comfort him. G.o.d pity his gray hairs! an'--hem--have compa.s.sion on him and his this day!”
The poor fellow's heart could stand the sudden contemplation of Dalton's sorrow no longer--and on uttering the last words he fairly wept.
”If I had known what it was about,” he proceeded; ”but that ould scoundrel of a Prophet--ay, an' that other ould scoundrel of a masther o' mine--hem ay--whish--but--what am I sayin'?--but if I had known it, 'ud go hard but I'd give him a lift--so that he might get out o' the way, at any rate.”
”Ay,” said the pedlar, ”at any rate, indeed--faith, you may well say it; but I say, that at any rate he'll be hanged as sure as he murdhered Sullivan, and as sure as he did, that he may swing, I pray this day!”
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