Fardorougha, The Miser Part 14

Bodagh Buie, his wife, and their two children, were very luckily a.s.sembled in the parlor, when the nondescript figure of the deputy-wooer made his appearance on that part of the neat road which terminated at the gate of the little lawn that fronted the hall-door. Here there was another gate to the right that opened into the farm or kitchen yard, and as Fardorougha hesitated which to enter, the family within had an opportunity of getting a clearer view of his features and person.

"Who is that quare figure standing there?" inquired the Bodagh; "did you ever see sich a----ah, thin, who can he be?"

"Somebody comin', to see some of the sarvints, I suppose," replied his wife; "why, thin, it's not unlike little d.i.c.k _Croaitha_, the fairyman."

In sober truth, Fardorougha was so completely disguised by his dress, especially by his hat, whose shallowness and want of brim, gave his face and head so wild and eccentric an appearance, that we question if his own family, had they not seen him dress, could I have recognized him! At length he turned into the kitchen-yard, and, addressing a laborer whom he met, asked--

"I say, nabor, which is the right way into Bodagh Buie's house?"

"There's two right ways into it, an' you may take aither o' them--but if you want any favor from him, you had better call him _Mr_. O'Brien. The Bodagh's a name was first given to his father, an' he bein' a dacenter man, doesn't like it, although it sticks to him; so there's a lift for you, my hip striddled little codger."

"But which is the right door o' the house?"

"There it is, the kitchen--peg in--that's your intrance, barrin' you're a gintleman in disguise, an' if be, why turn out again to that other gate, strip off your shoes, and pa.s.s up ginteely on your tipytoes, and give a thunderin' whack to the green ring that's hangin' from the door.

But see, friend," added the man, "maybe you'd do one a sarvice?"

"How," said Fardorougha, looking earnestly at him; "what is it?"

"Why, to lave us a lock o' your hair before you go," replied the wag, with a grin.

The miser took no notice whatsoever of this, but was turning quietly out of the yard, to enter by the lawn, when the man called out in a commanding voice--

"Back here, you codger!--tundher an' thump!--back I say! You won't be let in that way--thramp back, you leprechaun, into the kitchen--eh! you won't--well, well, take what you'll get--an' that'll be the way back agin."

'Twas at this moment that the keen eye of Una recognized the features of her lover's father, and a smile, which she felt it impossible to subdue, settled upon her face, which became immediately mantled with blushes. On hurrying out of the room she plucked her brother's sleeve, who followed her to the hall.

"I can scarcely tell you, dear John," she said, speaking rapidly, "it's Fardorougha O'Donovan, Connor's father; as you know his business, John, stay in the parlor;" she squeezed his hand, and added with a smile on her face, and a tear in her eye, "I fear it's all over with me--I don't know whether to laugh or cry--but stay, John dear, an' fight my battle--Una's battle."

She ran upstairs, and immediately one of the most beggarly, sordid, and pusillanimous knocks that ever spoke of starvation and misery was heard at the door.

"I will answer it myself," thought the amiable brother; "for if my father or mother does, he surely will not be allowed in."

John could scarcely preserve a grave face, when Fardorougha presented himself.

"Is Misther O'Brien widin?" inquired the usurer, shrewdly availing himself of the hint he received from the servant.

"My father is," replied John; "have the goodness to step in."

Fardorougha entered immediately, followed by young O'Brien, who said,

"Father, this is Mr. O'Donovan, who, it appears, has some important business with the family."

"Don't be mistherin' me," replied Fardorougha, helping himself to a seat; "I'm too poor to be misthered."

"With this family!" exclaimed the father in amazement; "what business can Fardorougha Donovan have with this family, John?"'

"About our children," replied the miser; "about my son and your daughter."

"An' what about them?" inquired Mrs. O'Brien; "do you dar to mintion them in the same day together?"

"Why not," said the miser; "ay, an' on the same night, too?"

"Upon my reputaytion, Mr. O'Donovan, you're extramely kind--now be a little more so, and let us undherstand you," said the Bodagh.

"Poor Una!" thought John, "all's lost; he will get himself kicked out to a certainty."

"I think it's time we got them married," replied Fardorougha; "the sooner it's done the better, and the safer for both o' them; especially for the colleen."

"_Dar a Lorha_, he's cracked," said Mrs. O'Brien; "sorra one o' the poor soul but's cracked about his money."

"Poor sowl, woman alive! wor you never poor yourself?"

"Yis I wor; an' I'm not ashamed to own it; but, Chierna, Frank," she added, addressing her husband, "there's no use in spakin' to him."

"Fardorougha," said O'Brien, seriously, "what brought you here?"

"Why, to tell you an' your wife the state that my son, Connor, and your daughter's in about one another; an' to advise you both, if you have sinse, to get them married afore worse happen. It's your business more nor mine."

"You're right," said the Bodagh, aside to his wife; "he's sartinly deranged. Fardorougha," he added, "have you lost any money lately?"

"I'm losin' every day," said the other; "I'm broke a.s.sistin' them that won't thank me, let alone paying me as they ought."

"Then you have lost nothing more than usual?"

"If I didn't, I tell you there's a good chance of losin' it before me;--can a man call any money of his safe that's in another man's pocket?"

"An' so you've come to propose a marriage between your son and my daughter, yet you lost no money, an' you're not mad!"

"Divil a morsel o' me is mad--but you'll be so if you refuse to let this match go an."

"Out wid him--_a shan roghara_," shouted Mrs. O'Brien, in a state of most dignified offence; "_Damho orth_, you ould knave! is it the son of a miser that has fleeced an' robbed the whole counthry side that we 'ud let our daughther, that resaved the finish to her edication in a Dubling boardin' school, marry wid?--_Vic na hoiah_ this day!"

"You had no sich scruple yourself, ma'am," replied the bitter usurer, "when you bounced at the son of the ould Bodagh Buie, an' every one knows what he was."

"He!" said the good woman; "an' is it runnin' up comparishments betuxt yourself an' him you are afther? Why, Saint Peter wouldn't thrive on your money, you nager."

"Maybe Saint Pethur thruv on worse--but havn't you thruv as well on the Bodagh's, as if it had been honestly come by? I defy you an' the world both--to say that ever I tuck a penny from any one, more than my right.

Lay that to the mimory of the ould Bodagh, an' see if it'll fit. It's no light guinea, any how."

Had Fardorougha been a man of ordinary standing and character in the country, from whom an insult could be taken, he would no doubt have been by a very summary process expelled the parlor. The history of his querulous and irascible temper, however, was so well known, and his offensive eccentricity of manner a matter of such established fact, that the father and son, on glancing at each other, were seized with the same spirit, and both gave way to an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Is it a laughin' stock you're makin' of' it?" said Mrs. O'Brien, highly indignant.

"Faith, achora, it may be no laughin' stock afther all," replied the Bodagh.

"I think, mother," observed John, "that you and my father had better treat the matter with more seriousness. Connor O'Donovan is a young man not to be despised by any person at all near his own cla.s.s of life who regards the peace and welfare of a daughter. His character stands very high; indeed, in every way unimpeachable."

The bitter scowl which had sat upon the small dark features of Fardorougha, when replying to the last attack of Mrs. O'Brien, pa.s.sed away as John spoke. The old man turned hastily around, and, surveying the eulogist of his son, said,