Part 44 (1/2)
Mave smiled and blushed at the compliment, and the pedlar eyed her apparently with a mixed feeling of admiration and compa.s.sion.
”No,” she replied, ”I haven't any desire to part with it.”
”You had the sickness, maybe?”
”Thanks be to the mercy of G.o.d,” she fervently exclaimed, ”no one in this family has had it yet.”
”Well, achora,” he continued, ”if you take my advice you'll dispose of it, in regard that if the sickness--which may G.o.d prevent--should come, it will be well for you to have it off you. If you sell it, I'll give you either money or value for it; for indeed, an' truth it flogs all I've seen this many a day.”
”They say,” observed her mother, ”that it's not lucky to sell one's hair, and whether it's true or not I don't know; but I'm tould for a sartinty, that there's not a girl that ever sould it but was sure to catch the sickness.”
”I know that there's truth in that,” said Jerry himself. ”There's Sally Hacket, and Mary Geoghegan, and Katy Dowdall, all sould it, and not one of them escaped the sickness. And, moreover, didn't I hear Misther Cooper, the bleedin' doctor, say, myself, in the market, on Sathurday, that the people couldn't do a worse thing than cut their hair close, as it lets the sickness in by the head, and makes it tin times as hard upon them, when it comes.”
”Well, well, there's no arguin' wid you,” said the pedlar, ”all I say is, that you ought to part wid it, acushla--by all means you ought.”
”Never mind him, Mave darlin',” said her mother, whose motive in saying so was altogether dictated by affectionate apprehensions for her health.
”No,” replied her daughter, ”it is not my intention, mother, to part with what G.o.d has given me. I have no notion of it.”
At this stage of the dialogue, her eldest brother, who had been getting a horse shod at the next forge, entered the house, and threw himself carelessly on a chair. His appearance occasioned a alight pause in the conversation.
”Well, Denny,” said the father, ”what's the news?”
”Bad news with the Daltons,” replied the boy.
”With the Daltons!” exclaimed Mave, trembling, and getting paler, if possible, than she was; ”for G.o.d's mercy, Dennis, what has happened amongst them?”
”I met Mrs. Dalton a while ago,” he replied, ”and she tould me that they had no one now to take care of them. Sarah M'Gowan, the Black Prophet's daughter, has catched the sickness, and is lyin' in a shed there beyant, that a poor thravellin' family was in about a week ago. Mrs. Dalton says her own family isn't worse wid the sickness, but betther, she thinks; but she was cryin', the daicent craythur, and she says they'll die wid neglect and starvation, for she must be out, and there's no one to attend to them, and they have nothing but the black wather, G.o.d help them!”
While he spoke, Mave's eyes were fastened upon him, as if the sentence of her own life or death was about to issue from his lip. Gradually, however, she breathed more freely; a pale red tinged her cheek for a moment, after which, a greater paleness settled upon it again.
The pedlar shook his head. ”Ah,” he exclaimed, ”they are hard times, sure enough; may the Lord bring us all safe through them! Well, I see I'm not likely to make my fortune among you,” he added, smiling, ”so I must tramp on, but any way, I must thank you for house-room and your civility.”
”I'd offer something to ait,” said Mrs. Sullivan, with evident pain, ”but the truth is--”
”Not a morsel,” replied the other, ”if the house was overflown.'. G.o.d bless you all--G.o.d bless you.”
Mave, almost immediately after her brother had concluded, pa.s.sed to another room, and returned just as the old pedlar had gone out. She instantly followed him with a hasty step; while he, on hearing her foot, turned round.
”You told me that you admired my hair,” she said, on coming up to him.
”Now, supposin' I'm willin' to sell it to you, what ought I to get for it?”
”Don't be alarmed by what they say inside,” replied the pedlar; ”any regular doctor would tell that, in these times, it's safer to part wid it--that I may be happy but I'm tellin' you thruth. What is it worth?
What are you axin?”
”I don't know; but for G.o.d's sake cut it off, and give me the most you can afford for it. Oh! believe me, it's not on account of the mere value of it, but the money may save lives.”
”Why, achora, what do you intend doin' wid the money, if it's a fair question to ax?”
”It's not a fair question for a stranger--it's enough for me to tell you that I'll do nothing with it without my father and mother's knowledge.