Part 45 (2/2)
Sarah's unexpected illness disconcerted at least one of the projects of Donnel Dhu. There were now only two days until the a.s.sizes, and she was as yet incapable of leaving her bed, although in a state of convalescence. This mortified the Prophet very much, but his subtlety and invention never abandoned him. It struck him that the most effectual plan now would be--as Sarah's part in aiding to take away Mave was out of the question--to merge the violence to which he felt they must resort, into that of the famine riots; and under the character of one of these tumults, to succeed, if possible, in removing Mave from her father's house, ere her family could understand the true cause of her removal. Those who were to be engaged in this were, besides, princ.i.p.ally strangers, to whom neither Mave nor her family were personally known; and as a female cousin of hers--an orphan--had come to reside with them until better times should arrive, it would be necessary to have some one among the party who knew Mave sufficiently to make no mistake as to her person. For this purpose he judiciously fixed upon Thomas Dalton, as the most appropriate individual to execute this act of violence against the very family who were likely to be the means of bringing his father to a shameful death. This young man had not yet recovered the use of his reason, so as to be considered sane. He still roved about as before, sometimes joining the mobs, and leading them on to the outrage, and sometimes sauntering in a solitary mood, without seeming altogether conscious of what he did or said. To secure his co-operation was a matter of little or difficulty, and the less so as he heard, with infinite satisfaction, that Dalton was perpetually threatening every description of vengeance against the Sullivans, about to be tried, and very likely to suffer for the murder.
It was now the day but one previous to the commencement of the a.s.sizes, and our readers will be kind enough to accompany us to the Grange, or rather to the garden of the Grange, at the gate of which our acquaintance Red Rody is knocking. He has knocked two or three times, and sent, on each occasion, Hanlon, old d.i.c.k, young d.i.c.k, together with all the component parts of the establishment, to a certain territory, where, so far as its legitimate historians a.s.sure us, the coldness of the climate has never been known to give any particular offence.
”I know he's inside, for didn't I see him goin' in--well, may all the devils--hem--oh, good morrow, Charley--troth you'd make a good messenger for death. I'm knocking here till I have lost the use of my arm wid downright fatigue.”
”Never mind, Rody, you'll recover it before you're twice married--come in.” They then entered. ”Well, Rody, what's the news?”
”What the news, is it? Why then is anything in the shape of news--of good news I mean--to be had in such a counthry as this? Troth it's a shame for any one that has health an' limbs to remain in it. An' now that you're answered, what's the news yourself, Charley? I hope that the Drivers.h.i.+p's safe at last, I thought I was to sleep at home in my comfortable berth last--”
”Not now till afther the 'sizes, Rody.”
”The master's goin' to them? bekaise I heard he wasn't able.”
”He's goin', he says, happen what may; he thinks it's his last visit to them, and I agree wid him--he'll soon have a greater 'sizes and a different judge to meet.”
”Ay, Charley, think of that now; an' tell me, he sleeps in Ballynafail, as usual; eh, now?”
”He does of course.”
”An' Jemmy Branigan goes along wid him?”
”Are you foolish, Kody? Do you think he could live widout him?”
”Well, I b'lieve not. Throth, whenever the ould fellow goes in the next world, there'll be no keepin' Jemmy from him. Howandiver, to dhrop that.
Isn't these poor times, Charley, an' isn't this a poor counthry to live in--or it would be nearer the truth to say starve in?”
”No, but it would be the truth itself,” replied the other. ”What is there over the whole counthry but starvation and misery?”
”Any dhrames about America since, Charley? eh, now?”
”Maybe ay, and maybe no, Rody. Is it true that Tom Dalton threatens all kinds of vengeance on the Sullivans?”
”Ay, is it, an' the whole counthry says that he's as ready to knock one o' them on the head as ever the father before him was. They don't think the betther of the ould man for it; but what do you mane by 'maybe ay, an' maybe no,' Charley?”
”What do you mane by axin' me?”
Each looked keenly for some time at the other as he spoke, and after this there was a pause. At length, Hanlon, placing his hand upon Rody's shoulder, replied:
”Rody, it won't do. I know the design--and I tell you now that one word from my lips could have you brought up at the a.s.sizes--tried--and I won't say the rest. You're betrayed!”
The ruffian's lip fell--his voice faltered, and he became pale.
”Ay!” proceeded the other, ”you may well look astonished--but listen, you talk about goin' to America--do you wish to go?”
”Of coorse I do,” replied Body, ”of coorse--not a doubt of it.”
”Well,” proceeded Hanlon again, ”listen still! your plan's discovered, you're betrayed; but I can't tell you who betrayed you, I'm not at liberty. Now listen, I say, come this way. Couldn't you an' I ourselves do the thing--couldn't we make the haul, and couldn't we cut off to America without any danger to signify, that is, if you can be faithful?”
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