Part 27 (1/2)
”Well, and what do you think occasionally?”
”Why, that the times may change.”
”Whitecraft,” said Smellpriest, ”I work upon higher principles than they say you do. I hunt priests, no doubt of it; but then I have no personal malice against them; I proceed upon the broad and general principle of hatred to Popery: but, at the same time, observe it is not the man but the priest I pursue.”
”And when you hang or transport the priest, what becomes of the man?”
asked the baronet, with a diabolical sneer. ”As for me, Smellpriest, I make no such distinctions; they are unworthy of you, and I'm sorry to hear you express them. I say, the man.”
”And I say, the priest,” replied the other.
”What do you say, my lord?” asked Mr. Folliard of the peer.
”I don't much care which,” replied his lords.h.i.+p; ”man or priest, be it as you can determine; only I say that when you hang the priest, I agree with Whitecraft there, that it is all up with the man, and when you hang the man, it is all up with the priest. By the way, Whitecraft,” he proceeded, ”how would you like to swing yourself?”
”I am sure, my lord,” replied the baronet, ”you wouldn't wish to see me hanged.”
”Well, I don't know--perhaps I might, and perhaps I might not; but I know you would make a long corpse, and I think you would dangle handsomely enough; you have long limbs, a long body, and half a mile of neck; upon my soul, one would think you were made for it. Yes, I dare say I should like to see you hanged--I am rather inclined to think I would--it's a subject, however, on which I am perfectly indifferent; but if ever you should be hanged, Sir Robert, I shall certainly make it a point to see you thrown off if it were only as a mark of respect for your humane and excellent character.”
”He would be a severe loss to the country,” observed Sir Jenkins; ”the want of his hospitality would be deeply felt by the gentry of the neighborhood; for which reason,” he observed sarcastically, ”I hope he will be spared to us as long as his hospitality lasts.”
”In the meantime, gentlemen,” observed the sheriff, ”I wish that, with such keen noses for priests and rebels and criminals, you could come upon the trail of the scoundrel who robbed me of three hundred and fifty pounds.”
”Would you know him again, Mr. Sheriff?” asked Sir Robert, ”and could you describe his appearance?”
”I have been turning the matter over,” replied the sheriff, ”and I feel satisfied that I would know him if I saw him. He was dressed in a broadcloth brown coat, light-colored breeches, and had silver buckles in his shoes. The fellow was no common robber. Stuart--one of your dragoons, Sir Robert, who came to my relief when it was too late--insists, from my description of the dress, that it was Reilly.”
”Are you sure he was not dressed in black?” asked Smellpriest. ”Did you observe a beads or crucifix about him?”
”I have described the dress accurately,” replied the sheriff; ”but I am certain that it was not Reilly. On bringing the matter to my recollection, after I had got rid of the pain and agitation, I was able to remember that the ruffian had a coa.r.s.e face and red whiskers. Now Reilly's hair and whiskers are black.”
”It was a reverend Papist,” said Smellpriest; ”one of those from whom you had levied the fines that day, and who thought it no harm to transfer them back again to holy Church. You know not how those rascals can disguise themselves.”
”And you blame them, Smellpriest,” said the squire, ”for disguising themselves? Now, suppose the tables were turned upon us, that Popery got the ascendant, and that Papists started upon the same principles against us that we put in practice against them; suppose that Popish soldiers were halloed on against our parsons, and all other Protestants conspicuous for an attachment to their religion, and anxious to put down the persecution under which we suffered; why, hang it, could you blame the parsons, when hunted to the death, for disguising themselves? And if you could not, how can you blame the priests? Would you have the poor devils walk into your hands and say, 'Come, gentlemen, be good enough to hang or transport us?' I am anxious, to secure Reilly, and either to hang or transport him. I would say the latter, though.”
”And I the former,” observed Sir Robert.
”Well, Bob, that is as may happen; but in the meantime, I say he never robbed the sheriff here; and if he were going to the gallows to-morrow, I would maintain it.”
Neither the clergyman nor Mr. Hastings took much part in the conversation; but the eye of the latter was, during the greater portion of the evening, fixed upon the baronet, like that of a basilisk, accompanied by a hidden meaning, which it was impossible to penetrate, but which, nevertheless, had such an effect upon Whitecraft that he could not help observing it.
”It would seem, Mr. Hastings,” said he, ”as if you had never seen me before. Your eye has scarcely been off me during the whole evening. It is not pleasant, sir, nor scarcely gentlemanly.”
”You should feel proud of it, Sir Robert,” replied Hastings; ”I only admire you.”
”Well, then, I wish you would express your admiration in some other manner than by staring at me.”
”Gadzooks, Sir Robert,” said the squire, ”don't you know that a cat may look at a king? Hastings must be a man of devilish good taste, Bob, and you ought to thank him.”
Mr. Brown and Mr. Hastings soon afterwards went upstairs, and left the other gentlemen to their liquor, which they now began to enjoy with a more convivial spirit. The old squire's loyalty rose to a very high pitch, as indeed did that of his companions, all of whom entertained the same principles, with the exception of Lord Deilmacare, whose opinions never could be got at, for thee very sufficient reason that he did not know them himself.