Part 5 (1/2)
”But I can see that it is something that troubles you, Norah,” said Annie, taking the rough hand of Annorah in hers, and drawing her nearer. ”Is it something that you would rather I should not know?”
”Indeed no. But it's loath I am to add my bit troubles to yours, when ye suffer yer own so patiently. It's only that all my relatives, and the praste, and the Catholic neighbours, are waiting for me to come home, to bring me back to the ould Church by force. An' Phelim, poor boy, came to tell me to keep away. It's worse he'll be for the damp air; and it's angry they'll be for my staying away.”
”Ah! Annorah, my dear nurse, I was afraid that rougher times awaited you. I was afraid they would persecute you.”
”But they haven't yet, Miss Annie.”
”Perhaps it is not what you would call persecution, but it is sad to have those we love turn against us. You must trust in G.o.d, my poor girl. He will give you grace to bear it all.”
CHAPTER VI.
THE CONFESSIONAL--AN IRISH FROLIC.
Great was the uproar in Biddy Dillon's cottage when it was found that Annorah was not coming to make her usual Sat.u.r.day evening visit to her mother.
Preparations had been made by Father M'Clane for holding a regular confessional; and an hour before sunset, he had taken his seat in the little darkened chamber, behind a table on which four tallow-candles were burning, with an uncertain, flickering light.
It had been decided in the council of relatives and friends that Annorah's only chance of salvation lay in speedy confession, and it was very reasonably supposed, that could she be brought back to that Popish duty, a great point would be gained in the way to her perfect restoration.
It was, therefore, no affectionate, loving circle that had now a.s.sembled to ”bear a hand” in Annorah's restoration to the faith. One after another went reverently on their knees up the short, steep stairway, and came down lighter in purse, and, as the priest wickedly taught them, absolved of all offences, but swelling with wrath against the poor girl whose coming was so long delayed. And when, at last, it became apparent that she would not come, a storm of abuse was poured upon Biddy, who, it was evident to all, did not cordially join in their violent measures.
Now, Biddy Dillon had too much of the national character to sit down quietly and receive their abuse, and soon a regular quarrel ensued, which would have speedily become a fight, but for the descent of Father M'Clane into their midst, and his imperative command that each one should sit down quietly and ”hould his tongue.”
”Whisht! whisht! Of what are ye thinking, ye silly gossoons? Will ye bring down the peace officers upon ye, and take out the bit o' the night in the prison, instead o' drinking me health, as ye may, and me helping to do that same? Arrah! Why should ye glower and snarl at each other, like a kennel o' mad puppies, when it's the brave frolic ye may have together? It's the soft looks and the fine words ye must use, an'
ye would win the young heretic back; ye may fight over her till the great day o' all, and it will be but a sorrowful waste o' the powther, barrin' the swate chance ye are losing now o' a comfortable frolic. Arrah, now, Dennis darlin', a sup o' the whisky for me, a thrifle sthrong, an' ye plaze. It's a could night to be out wi' an empty stoomach.”
”Stay till the morning, father,” said Biddy, coming up to him with an anxious face; ”we cannot kape peace an' ye do not bide wi' us; the frolic will be all the better an' ye stay to the orderin' o' it,--and the best bed is waitin' yer riverence's convanience. There's Sandy and Mike will fight an' ye lave, and Katy there is ready to tear out the eyes o' big Nelly Murphy. It's quarrelling they've been the whole blessed day. Bide with us, lest the dear childer who is the cause o'
it all should be kilt and murdered intirely, an' she sthrays home to-night.”
She spoke in a low voice, and he replied in the same tone, drawing her back from the crowd, who were all talking together.
”Look here, Biddy Dillon,” he said; ”the girl must lave that grand house and come home to live here with you.”
”Lave Miss Annie, do ye mane, sir?”
”Small hope for her sowl an' she do not.”
”And few are the pennies I can bring to yer riverence when the child has no wages to bring home o' a Sat.u.r.day. Sorra a hap'orth to spare will I find; it's no me two hands alone can find bread for the mouths o' all, and--”
”Stuff and nonsense!” interrupted the priest; ”there's many another place can be had for a sthrong, likely la.s.s like her. Good servants are not over plenty, and she can be better placed.”
”But where, I would like ye to tell? It's in a Protestant family she must be, an' she goes out to service at all.”
”Yes; but they'll let her alone in some houses. Sorra a bit do the most o' them care what becomes o' the sowl, an' the work be done to their liking. Our Lady be praised! it's to the far counthrees that the Protestant missionaries are sent, and the silver is given; for one-half o' the pains taken wi' the poor crathurs who work in their kitchens would have ruined us all.”
”Yer riverence spakes thrue, to be shure,” said Biddy; ”but for all that, it will never be a bit o' use to thry to make a good Catholic o'