Part 55 (1/2)
”Sir,” replied the other, ”I am thankful and grateful to you for that kindness, but it's now too late; I am not able to go back upon it; I have neither money nor stock of any kind. I am deeply and gratefully obliged to you; but I have not a sixpence worth in the world to put on it. An honest heart, sir, an' a clear fame, is all that G.o.d has left me, blessed be His name.”
”Don't b'lieve a word of it,” replied the Pedlar. ”Only let your honor give him a good lease, at a raisonable rint, makin' allowance for his improvements--”
”Never mind conditions, my good friend,” said the agent, ”but proceed; for, if I don't mistake, you will yourself give him a lift.”
”May be, we'll find him stock and capital a thrifle, any way,” replied the Pedlar with a knowing wink. ”I haven't carried the pack all my life for nothing, I hope.”
”I understand,” said the agent to Dalton, ”that one of your sons is dead. I leave town to-day, but I shall be here this day fortnight;--call then, and we shall have every thing arranged. Your case was a very hard one, and a very common one; but it was one with which we had nothing to do, and in which, until now, we could not interfere. I have looked clearly into it, and regret to find that such cases do exist upon Irish property to a painful extent, although I am, glad to find that public opinion, and a more enlightened experience, are every day considerably diminis.h.i.+ng the evil.”
He then rang for some one-else, and our friends withdrew, impressed with a grateful sense of his integrity and justice.
CHAPTER x.x.xII. -- Conclusion.
The interest excited by the trial, involving as it did so much that concerned the Sullivans, especially the hopes and affections of their daughter Mave, naturally induced them--though not on this latter account--young and old, to attend the a.s.sizes, not excepting Mave herself; for her father, much against her inclination, had made a point to bring her with them. On finding, however, how matters turned out, a perfect and hearty reconciliation took place between the two families, in the course of which Mave and the Prophet's wife once more renewed their acquaintance. Some necessary and brief explanation took place, in the course of which allusion was made to Sarah and her state of health.
”I hope,” said Mave, ”you will lose no time in goin' to see her. I know her affectionate heart; an' that when she hears an' feels that she has a mother alive an' well, an' that loves her as she ought to be loved, it will put new life into her.”
”She is a fine lookin' girl,” replied her mother, ”an' while I was spakin' to her, I felt my heart warm to her sure enough; but she's a wild crature, they say.”
”Hasty a little,” said Mave; ”but then such a heart as she has. You ought to go see her at wanst.”
”I would, dear, an' my heart is longin' to see her; but I think it's betther that I should not till afther his thrial to-morrow. I'm to be a witness against the unfortunate man.”
”Against her father!--against your own husband!” exclaimed Mave, looking aghast at this information.
”Yes, dear; for it was my brother he murdhered an' he must take the consequences, if he was my husband and her father ten times over. My brother's blood mustn't pa.s.s for nothin'. Besides, the hand o' G.o.d is in it, an' I must do my duty.”
The heart of the gentle and heroic Mave, which could encounter contagion and death, from a principle of unconscious magnanimity and affection, that deserved a garland, now shrunk back with pain at the sentiments so coolly expressed by Sarah's mother. She thought for a moment of young Dalton, and that if she were called upon to prosecute him,--but she hastily put the fearful hypothesis aside, and was about to bid her acquaintance good-bye, when the latter said:
”To-morrow, or rather the day afther, I'd wish to see her for then I'll know what will happen to him, an' how to act with her; an' if you'd come with me, I'd be glad of it, an' you'd oblige me.”
Mave's gentle and affectionate spirit was disquieted within her by what she had already heard; but a moment's reflection convinced her that her presence on the occasion might be serviceable to Sarah, whose excitable temperament and delicate state of health required gentle and judicious treatment.
”I'm afeard,” said Mrs. M'Ivor, ”that by the time the trial's over to-morrow, it'll be too late; but let us say the day afther, if it's the same to you.”
”Well, then,” replied Mave, ”you can call to our place, as it's on your way, an' we'll both go together.”
”If she knew her,” said Mave to her friends, on her way home, ”as I do; if she only knew the heart she has--the lovin', the fearless, the great heart;--oh, if she did, no earthly thing would prevent her from goin' to her without the loss of a minute's time. Poor Sarah!--brave and generous girl--what wouldn't I do to bring her back to health! But ah, mother, I'm afeard;” and as the n.o.ble girl spoke, the tears gushed to her eyes--”'It's my last act for you,' she whispered to me, on that night when the house was surrounded by villains--'I know what you risked for me in the shed; I know it, dear Mave, an' I'm now sthrivin' to pay back my debt to you.' Oh, mother!” she exclaimed, ”where--where could one look for the like of her! an' yet how little does the world know about her goodness, or her greatness, I may say. Well,” proceeded Mave, ”she paid that debt; but I'm afeard, mother, it'll turn out that it was with her own life she paid it.”
At the hour appointed, Mrs. M'Ivor and Mave set out on their visit to Sarah, each now aware of the dreadful and inevitable doom that awaited her father, and of the part which one of them, at least, had taken in bringing it about.
About half an hour before their arrival, Sarah, whose anxiety touching the fate of old Dalton could endure no more, lay awaiting the return of her nurse--a simple, good-hearted, matter-of-fact creature, who had no notion of ever concealing the truth under any circ.u.mstances. The poor girl had sent her to get an account of the trial the best way she could, and, as we said, she now lay awaiting her return. At length she came in.
”Well, Biddy, what's the news--or have you got any?”
The old woman gently and affectionately put her hand over on Sarah's forehead, as if the act was a religious ceremony, and accompanied an invocation, as, indeed, she intended it to do.
”May G.o.d in His mercy soon relieve you from your thrials, my poor girl, an' bring you to Himself! but it's the black news I have for you this day.”
Sarah started.