The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain Part 72

"Well, sir, wait till you hear, and then you may answer yourself; as for me, afther what I've seen, I'll not undertake to give an opinion on the subject. I suppose I'm an ugly fellow myself, and yet I know a sartin fair one that's not of that opinion--ahem!"

"Make yourself intelligible in the meantime," said his master: "I don't properly understand you."

"That's just what the Mrs. Nortons say, your honor. 'I don't understand you, sir;' and that is bekaise you keep me in the dark, and that I can't explain to them properly what you want; divil a thing but an oracle you've made of me. But as to beauty--only listen, sir. This mornin'

there came a woman to me wid a thin, sharp face, a fiery eye that looked as if she had a drop in it, or was goin' to fight a north-wester, and a thin, red nose that was nothing else than a stunner. She was, moreover, a good deal of the gentleman on the upper lip--not to mention two or three separate plantations of the same growth on different parts of the chin. Altogether, I was very much struck with her appearance."

"You are too descriptive, Dandy," said his master, after enjoying the description, however; "come to the point."

"Ay, that's just what she said," replied Dandy, "coaxing the point of her nose wid her finger and thumb: 'Come to the point,' said she; 'mention the services your master requires from me.'

"'From you,' says I, lookin' astonished, as you may suppose--'from you, ma'am?'

"'Yes, my good man, from me; I'm Mrs. Norton.'

"'Are you indeed, ma'am?' says I; 'I hope you're well, Mrs. Norton. My master will be delighted to see you.'

"'What kind of a man is he?' she asked.

"'Young and handsome, ma'am,' says I; 'quite a janious in beauty.'

"'Well,' says my lady, 'so far so good; I'm young and handsome myself, as you see, and I dare say we'll live happily enough together;' and as she spoke, she pushed up an old bodice that was tied round something that resembled a dried skeleton, which it only touched at points, like a reel in a bottle, strivin', of course, to show off a good figure; she then winked both eyes, as if she was meetin' a cloud o' dust, and agin shuttin' one, as if she was coverin' me wid a rifle, whispered, 'You'll find me generous maybe, if you desarve it. I'll increase your allowances afther our marriage.'

"'Thanks, ma'am,' says I, 'but my masther isn't a marryin'

man--unfortunately, he is married; still,' says I, recoverin'

myself--for it struck me that she might be the right woman, afther all--'although he's married, his wife's an invalid; so that it likely you may be the lady still. Were you ever in France, ma'am?'

"'No,' says she, tossing up the stunner I spoke of, 'I never was in Prance; but I was in Tipperary, if that would sarve him.'

"I shook my head, your honor, as much as to say--'It's no go this time.'

"'Ma'am,' says I, 'that's unfortunate--my masther, when he gets a loose leg, will never marry any woman that has not been in France, and can dance the fandango like a Frenchman.'

"'I am sorry for his taste,' says she, 'and for yours, too; but at all events, you had better go up and tell him that I'll walk down the opposite side of the street, and then he can see what he has lost, and feel what France has cost him.'

"She then walked, sir, or rather sailed, down the other side of the street, holdin' up her clothes behind, to show a pair of legs like telescopes, with her head to it's full height, and one eye squintin' to the hotel, like a crow lookin' into a marrow bone."

"Well," said his master, "but I don't see the object of all this."

"Why, the object, sir, is to show you that it's not so aisy to know whether a person's young and handsome or not. You, sir, think yourself both; and so did the old skeleton I'm spakin' of."

"I see your moral, Dandy," replied his master, laughing; "at all events, make every possible inquiry, but, at the same time, in a quiet way. More depends upon it than you can imagine. Not," he added, in a kind of half soliloquy, "that I am acting in this affair from motives of a mere personal nature; I am now only the representative of another's wishes, and on that account, more than from any result affecting myself, do I proceed in it."

"I wish I knew, sir," said Dandy, "what kind of a woman this Mrs. Norton is; whether she's old or young, handsome or otherwise. At all events, I think I may confine myself to them that's young and handsome. It's always pleasanter, sir, and more agreeable to deal with a hands--"

"Confine yourself to truth, sir," replied his master, sharply; "make prudent inquiries, and in doing so act like a man of sense and discretion, and don't attempt to indulge in your buffoonery at my expense. No woman named Norton can be the individual I want to find, who has not lived for some years in France. That is a sufficient test; and if you should come in the way of the woman I am seeking, who alone can answer this description, I shall make it worth your while to have succeeded."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII. The Priest asks for a Loan of Fifty Guineas

--and Offers "Freney the Robber" as Security.

Whilst Father M'Mahon was wending his way to Const.i.tution Hill from the Brazen Head, where he had deposited his little bundle, containing three s.h.i.+rts, two or three cravats, and as many pairs of stockings, a dialogue was taking place in old Corbet's with which we must make the reader acquainted. He is already aware that Corbet's present wife was his second, and that she had a daughter by her first marriage, who had gone abroad to the East Indies, many years ago, with her husband. This woman was no other than Mrs. M'Bride, wife of the man who had abandoned her for the French girl, as had been mentioned by the stranger to Father M'Mahon, and who had, as was supposed, eloped with her to America. Such certainly was M'Bride's intention, and there is no doubt that the New World would have been edified by the admirable example of these two moralists, were it not for the fact that Mrs. M'Bride, herself as shrewd as the Frenchwoman, and burdened with as little honesty as the husband, had traced them to the place of rendezvous on the very first night of their disappearance; where, whilst they lay overcome with sleep and the influence of the rosy G.o.d, she contrived to lessen her husband of the pocketbook which he had helped himself to from his master's escritoire, with the exception, simply, of the papers in question, which, not being money, possessed in her eyes but little value to her. She had read them, however; and as she had through her husband become acquainted with their object, she determined on leaving them in his hands, with a hope that they might become the means of compromising matters with his master, and probably of gaining a reward for their restoration. Unfortunately, however, it so happened, that that gentleman did not miss them until some time after his arrival in Ireland; but, on putting matters together, and comparing the flight of M'Bride with the loss of his property, he concluded, with everything short of certainty, that the latter was the thief.

Old Corbet and this woman were seated in the little back parlor whilst Mrs. Corbet kept the shop, so that their conversation could take a freer range in her absence.

"And so you tell me, Kate," said the former, "that the vagabond has come back to the country?"

"I seen him with my own eyes," she replied; "there can be no mistake about it."

"And he doesn't suspect you of takin' the money from him?"

"No more than he does you; so far from that, I wouldn't be surprised if it's the Frenchwoman he suspects."

"But hadn't you better call on him? that is, if you know where he lives.

Maybe he's sorry for leavin' you."

"He, the villain! No; you don't know the life he led me. If he was my husband--as unfortunately he is--a thousand times over, a single day I'll never live with him. This lameness, that I'll carry to my grave, is his work. Oh, no; death any time sooner than that."

"Well," said the old man, after a lung pause, "it's a strange story you've tould me; and I'm sorry, for Lord Cullamore's sake, to hear it.

He's one o' the good ould gentlemen that's now so scarce in the country.

But, tell me, do you know where M'Bride lives?"

"No," she replied, "I do not, neither do I care much; but I'd be glad that his old master had back his papers. There's a woman supposed to be livin' in this country that could prove this stranger's case, and he came over here to find her out if he could."

"Do you know her name?"

"No; I don't think I ever heard it, or, if I did, I can't at all remember it. M'Bride mentioned the woman, but I don't think he named her."

"At all events," replied Corbet, "it doesn't signify. I hope whatever steps they're takin' against that good ould n.o.bleman will fail; and if I had the papers you speak of this minute, I'd put them into the fire. In the mane time try and make out where your vagabone of a husband lives, or, rather, set Ginty to work, as she and you are living together, and no doubt she'll soon ferret him out."

"I can't understand Ginty at all," replied the woman. "I think, although she has given up fortune tellin', that her head's not altogether right yet. She talks of workin' out some prophecy that she tould Sir Thomas Gourlay about himself and his daughter."

"She may talk as much about that as she likes," replied the old fellow.

"She called him plain Thomas Gourlay, didn't she, and said he'd be stripped of his t.i.tle?"

"So she told me; and that his daughter would be married to Lord Dunroe."

"Ay, and so she tould myself; but there she's in the dark. The daughter will be Lady Dunroe, no doubt, for they're goin' to be married; but she's takin' a bad way to work out the prophecy against the father by --hem--"

"By what?"

"I'm not free to mention it, Kate; but this very day it's to take place, and. I suppose it'll soon be known to everybody."

"Well, but sure you might mention it to me."

"I'll make a bargain with you, then. Set Ginty to work; let her find out your husband; get me the papers you spake of, and I'll tell you all about it."