Part 49 (2/2)
O'Donnel, however, had now relaxed from the rigid observation of his own rules, princ.i.p.ally for the reasons we have already stated--by which we mean, a conviction of his own impunity, as falsely communicated to him by Sir Robert Whitecraft. The sheriff had not at first intended to be personally present at his capture; but upon second consideration he came to the determination of heading the party who were authorized to secure him. This resolution of Oxley's had, as will presently be seen, a serious effect upon the fate and fortunes of the _Cooleen Bawn_ and her lover. The party, who were guided by Tom Steeple, did not go to Mary Mahon's, but to a neighboring cottage, which was inhabited by a distant relative of O'Donnel. A quarrel had taken place between the fortune-teller and him, arising from his jealousy of Sir Robert, which caused such an estrangement as prevented him for some time from visiting her house. Tom Steeple, however, had haunted him as his shadow, without ever coming in contact with him personally, and on this night he had him set as a soho man has a hare in her form. Guided, therefore, by the intelligent idiot and Fergus, the party readied the cottage in which the Rapparee resided. The house was instantly surrounded and the door knocked at, for the party knew that the man was inside.
”Who is there?” asked the old woman who kept the cottage.
”Open the door instantly,” said the sheriff, ”or we shall smash it in.”
”No, I won't,” she replied; ”no, I won't, you bosthoon, whoever you are.
I never did nothin' agin the laws, bad luck to them, and I won't open my door to any strolling vagabone like you.”
”Produce the man we want,” said the sheriff, ”or we shall arrest you for harboring an outlaw and a murderer. Your house is now surrounded by military, acting under the king's orders.”
”Give me time,” said the crone; ”I was at my prayers when you came to disturb me, and I'll finish them before I open the door, if you were to burn the house over my head, and myself in it. Up,” said she to the Rapparee, ”through the roof--get that ould table undher your feet--the thatch is thin--slip out and lie on the roof till they go, and then let them whistle jigs to the larks if they like.”
The habits of escape peculiar to the Rapparees were well known to Fergus, who cautioned those who surrounded the house to watch the roof.
It was well they did so, for in less-time than we have taken to describe it the body of the Rapparee was seen projecting itself upwards through the thin thatch, and in an instant several muskets were levelled at him, accompanied by instant orders to surrender on pain of being shot. Under such circ.u.mstances there was no alternative, and in a few minutes he was handcuffed and a prisoner. The party then proceeded along the road on which some of the adventures already recorded in this narrative had taken place, when they were met, at a sharp angle of it, by Reilly and his _Cooleen Bawn_, both of whom were almost instantly recognized by the sheriff and his party. Their arrest was immediate.
”Mr. Reilly,” said the sheriff, ”I am sorry for this. You must feel aware that I neither am or ever was disposed to be your enemy; but I now find you carrying away a Protestant heiress, the daughter of my friend, contrary to the laws of the land, a fact which in itself gives me the power and authority to take you into custody, which I accordingly do in his Majesty's name. I owe you no ill will, but in the meantime you must return with me to Squire Folliard's house. Miss Folliard, you must, as you know me to be your father's friend, consider that I feel it my duty to restore you to him.”
”I am not without means of defence,” replied Reilly, ”but the exercise of such means would be useless. Two of your lives I might take; but yours, Mr. Sheriff, could not be one of them, and that you must feel.”
”I feel, Mr. Reilly, that you are a man of honor; and, in point of fact, there is ample apology for your conduct in the exquisite beauty of the young lady who accompanies you; but I must also feel for her father, whose bereavement, occasioned by her loss, would most a.s.suredly break his heart.”
Here a deep panting of the bosom, accompanied by violent sobs, was heard by the party, and _Cooleen Bawn_ whispered to Reilly, in a voice nearly stifled by grief and excitement:
”Dear Reilly, I love you; but it was madness in us to take this step; let me return to my father--only let me see him safe?”
”But Whitecraft?”
”Death sooner. Reilly, I am ill, I am ill; this struggle is too much for me. What shall I do? My head is swimming.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 140--discharged a pistol at our hero]
She had scarcely uttered these words when her father, accompanied by his servants, dashed rapidly up, and c.u.mmiskey, the old huntsman, instantly seized Reilly, exclaiming, ”Mr. Reilly, we have you now;” and whilst he spoke, his impetuous old master dashed his horse to one side, and discharged a pistol at our hero, and this failing, he discharged another. Thanks to Lanigan, however, they were both harmless, that worthy man having forgotten to put in bullets, or even as much powder as would singe an ordinary whisker.
”Forbear, sir,” exclaimed the sheriff, addressing c.u.mmiskey; ”unhand Mr.
Reilly. He is already in custody, and you, Mr. Folliard, may thank G.o.d that you are not a murderer this night. As a father, I grant that an apology may be made for your resentment, but not to the shedding of blood.”
”Lanigan! villain! treacherous and deceitful villain!” shouted the squire, ”it was your perfidy that deprived me of my revenge. Begone, you sneaking old profligate, and never let me see your face again. You did not load my pistols as you ought.”
”No, sir,” replied Lanigan, ”and I thank G.o.d that I did not. It wasn't my intention to see your honor hanged for murder.”
”Mr. Folliard,” observed the sheriff, you ought to bless G.o.d that gave you a prudent servant, who had too much conscience to become the instrument of your vengeance. Restrain your resentment for the present, and leave Mr. Reilly to the laws of his country. We shall now proceed to your house, where, as a magistrate, you can commit him to prison, and I will see the warrant executed this night. We have also another prisoner of some celebrity, the Red Rapparee.”
”By sun and moon, I'll go bail for him,” replied the infuriated squire.
”I like that fellow because Reilly does not. Sir Robert spoke to me in his favor. Yes, I shall go bail for him, to any amount.”
”His offence is not a bailable one,” said the cool sheriff; ”nor, if the thing were possible, would it be creditable in you, as a magistrate, to offer yourself as bail for a common robber, one of the most notorious highwaymen of the day.”
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