Part 51 (2/2)
”Well, madam,” said he, ”what do you want? Have you any message from your mistress? if not, what brings you here?”
”I have no message from my mistress,” she replied in a loud, if not in a vehement, voice; ”I don't think my mistress is capable of sending a message; but I came to tell you that the G.o.d of heaven will soon send you a message, and a black one too, if you allow this cursed marriage to go on.”
”Get out, you jade--leave the room; how is it your affair?”
”Because I have what you want--a heart of pity and affection in my breast. Do you want to drive your daughter mad, or to take her life?”
”Begone, you impudent hussy; why do you dare to come here on such an occasion, only to annoy me?”
”I will not begone,” she replied, with a glowing cheek, ”unless I am put out by force--until I point out the consequences of your selfish tyranny and weakness. I don't come to annoy you, but I come to warn you, and to tell you, that I know your daughter better than you do yourself. This marriage must not go on; or, if it does, send without delay to a lunatic asylum for a keeper for that only daughter. I know her well, and I tell you that that's what it'll come to.”
The squire had never been in the habit of being thus addressed by any of his servants; and the consequence was that the thing was new to him; so much so that he felt not only annoyed, but so much astounded, that he absolutely lost, for a brief period, the use of his speech. He looked at her with astonishment--then about the room--then up at the ceiling, and at length spoke:
”What the deuce does all this mean? What are you driving at? Prevent the marriage, you say?”
”If the man,” proceeded Connor, not even waiting to give him an answer--”if the man--had but one good point--one good quality--one virtue in his whole composition to redeem him from contempt and hatred--if he had but one feature in his face only as handsome as the worst you could find in the devil's--yes, if he had but one good thought, or one good feature in either his soul or body, why--vile as it would be--and barbarous as it would be--and shameful and cruel as it would be--still, it would have the one good thought, and the one good feature to justify it. But here, in this deep and wretched villain, there is nothing but one ma.s.s of vice and crime and deformity; all that the eye can ses, or the heart discover, in his soul or body, is as black, odious, and repulsive as could be conceived of the worst imp of perdition. And this is the man--the persecutor--the miser--the debauchee--the hypocrite--the murderer, and the coward, that you are going to join your good--virtuous--spotless--and beautiful daughter to! Oh, shame upon you, you heartless old man; don't dare to say, or pretend, that you love her as a father ought, when you would sacrifice her to so base and d.a.m.nable a villain as that. And again, and what is more, I tell you not to prosecute Reilly; for, as sure as the Lord above is in heaven, your daughter is lost, and you'll not only curse Whitecraft, but the day and hour in which you were born--black and hopeless will be your doom if you do. And now, sir, I have done; I felt it to be my duty to tell you this, and to warn you against what I know will happen unless you go back upon the steps you have taken.”
She then courtesied to him respectfully, and left the room in a burst of grief which seized her when she had concluded.
Ellen Connor was a girl by no means deficient in education--thanks to the care and kindness of the _Cooleen Bawn_, who had herself instructed her. 'Tis true, she had in ordinary and familiar conversation a touch of the brogue; but, when excited, or holding converse with respectable persons, her language was such as would have done no discredit to many persons in a much higher rank of life.
After she had left the room, Folliard looked towards the door by which she had taken her exit, as if he had her still in his vision.
He paused--he meditated--he walked about, and seemed taken thoroughly aback.
”By earth and sky,” he exclaimed, ”but that's the most comical affair I have seen yet. Comical! no, not a touch of comicality in it. Zounds, is it possible that the, jade has coerced and beaten me?--dared to beard the lion in his own den--to strip him, as it were, of his claws, and to pull the very fangs out of his jaws, and, after all, to walk away in triumph? Hang me, but I must have a strong touch of the coward in me or I would not have knuckled as I did to the jade. Yet, hold--can I, or ought I to be angry with her, when I know that this h.e.l.lish racket all proceeded from her love to Helen. Hang me, but she's a precious bit of goods, and I'll contrive to make her a present, somehow, for her courage. Beat me! by sun and sky she did.”
He then proceeded to Helen's chamber, and ordered her attendants out of the room; but, on looking at her, he felt surprised to perceive that her complexion, instead of being pale, was quite flushed, and her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with a strange wild light that he had never seen in them before.
”Helen,” said he, ”what's the matter, love? are you unwell?”
She placed her two snowy hands on her temples, and pressed them tightly, as if striving to compress her brain and bring it within the influence of reason.
”I fear you are unwell, darling,” he continued; ”you look flushed and feverish. Don't, however, be alarmed; if you're not well, I'd see that knave of a fellow hanged before I'd marry you to him, and you in that state. The thing's out of the question, my darling Helen, and must not be done. No: G.o.d forbid that I should be the means of murdering my own child.”
So much, we may fairly presume, proceeded from the pithy lecture of Ellen Connor; but the truth was, that the undefinable old squire was the greatest parental coward in the world. In the absence of his daughter he would rant and swear and vapor, strike the ground with his staff, and give other indications of the most extraordinary resolution, combined with fiery pa.s.sion, that seemed alarming. No sooner, however, did he go into her presence, and contemplate not only her wonderful beauty, but her goodness, her tenderness and affection for himself, than the bl.u.s.ter departed from him, his resolution fell, his courage oozed away, and he felt that he was fairly subdued, under which circ.u.mstances he generally entered into a new treaty of friends.h.i.+p and affection with the enemy.
Helen's head was aching dreadfully, and she felt feverish and distracted. Her father's words, however, and the affection which they expressed, went to her heart; she threw her arms about him, kissed him, and was relieved by a copious flood of tears.
”Papa,” she said, ”you are both kind and good; surely you wouldn't kill your poor Helen?”
”Me kill you, Helen!--oh, no, faith. If Whitecraft were hanged to-morrow it wouldn't give me half so much pain as if your little finger ached.”
Just at this progress of the dialogue a smart and impatient knock came to the door.
”Who is that?” said the squire; ”come in--or, stay till I see who you are.” He than opened the door and exclaimed, ”What! Lanigan!--why, you infernal old scoundrel! how dare you have the a.s.surance to look me in the face, or to come under my roof at all, after what I said to you about the pistols?”
”Ay, but you don't know the good news I have for you and Miss Helen.”
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