The Tithe-Proctor Part 12

"I really cannot say, Cannie; Dr. Turbot and I were walking in the garden, when some d.a.m.nable villain discharged a pistol from the gate here, and the bullet of it whistled right between us both."

"Whistled, did it!--h.e.l.l resave it for one bullet, it was fond of mirth it was; and you can't say which o' you it was whistling for?"

"No, how could I?--it was equally near us both."

"Bad cess for ever saize him for a murdherin' villain, whoever he was.

You have no notion, Masther Purcel, darlin', where he went to?"

"Not the slightest, Cannie; the villain wouldn't have got off so easily, only that he had the diabolical cunning to lock the gate outside and conceal the key: so that whilst I was coming round to the place, he escaped. Did you meet or see n.o.body yourself?"

The peddler shut his right hand, slapped it quickly into the palm of his left. "By the Lomenty tarry," he exclaimed, "I seen the villain! By the high horicks, I seen the very man, if I have an eye in my head! A big, able-bodied villain, wid a pair of thumpin' black whiskers that you might steal my own out of--and I don't think I can complain myself. He was comin' up the road from the Carr, and he was turnin' over towards the bridge there below, so that I only got a short glimpse of him; and faix, sure enough, as he pa.s.sed the bridge, I seen him throw something over the wall of it into the river, which I'd lay my head against the three kingdoms was the kay o' the gate."

The proctor paused a little, and then observed, "Ay, faith! I'm sure you're right, Cannie; I've heard of that villain, and know him from your description. He is the cowardly ruffian who's said to be at the head or bottom of these secret combinations that are disgracing and destroying the country. Yes, I've heard of him."

"And what did you hear, Misther Purcel?" asked the pedlar, with undisguised curiosity--.

"No matter now, Cannie; I haven't time to bestow upon the murdering ruffian: I have my eye on him, however, and so have others. Indeed, I'm rather inclined to think the hemp has already grown that will hang him.

What dress had he on?"

"Why, sir, he had on a whitish frieze coat, wid big brown b.u.t.tons; but there could be no mistakin' the size of his murderin' red whiskers."

"Red whiskers!--why, you said a moment ago that they were black."

"Black! hut tut, no, Misther Purcel, I couldn't say that; devil such a pair of red thumpers ever I seen, barin' upon Rousin' Redhead that was sent across--for--for--buildin' churches--ha! ha! ha!"

"Why, I'd take my oath you said black," rejoined the proctor--"that is, if I have ears to my head."

"Troth, an' you have Misther Purcel, as brave a pair as a man could boast of; but the truth is, you wor so much fefl.u.s.tered wid alarm, and got altogether so much through other, that you didn't know what I said."

"I did perfectly: you said distinctly that he had black whiskers."

"Red, by the hokey, over the world; however, to avoid an argument, even if I did, in mistake, say black, the whiskers were red in the mane time; an', as I sed, barrin' Rousin' Redhead's, that was thransported, a never laid my eyes on so red, nor so big I pair."

"He can't be the fellow I suspect, then--for his, by all accounts, are unusually large and black."

"As to that, I can't say, sir: but you wouldn't have me give a wrong description of any villain that 'ud make an attempt upon your life. Are you sure, though, it wasn't his reverend honor that the pistol was aimed at?"

"I am not; as I told you, it is impossible to settle that point. There is neither of us very popular, certainly."

"Bekaise, afther all, there is a difference; and it doesn't folly that, although I'd purshue the villain for life and death, that 'ud attempt to murdher you, that I'd distress myself to secure an honest man that might free us an' the country from the like o' him;" and he pointed over his left shoulder with his inverted thumb.

"Cannie," said the proctor, somewhat sternly, "I've never heard you give expression to such sentiments before, and I hope I shall never again. No honest man would excuse or tamper with murder or murderers. No more of this, Cannie, or you will lose my good opinion, although perhaps you would think that no great loss."

"Throth, I know I was wrong to spake as I did, sir, bad cess to me, but I was, an' as for your good opinion, Misther Purcel, and the good of all your family too, devil a man livin' 'ud go further to gain it, and to keep it when he had it than I would; now, bad cess to the one."

Whilst this dialogue was proceeding between the pedlar and the proctor.

Dr. Turbot, in a state of indescribable alarm, was relating the attempted a.s.sa.s.sination to his curate inside. The amazement of the latter gentleman, who was perfectly aware of the turbulent state of the country, by no means kept pace with the alarm of his rector. He requested of the latter, that should he see Mrs. Temple, he would make no allusions to the circ.u.mstance, especially as she was at the period in question not far from her confinement, and it was impossible to say what unpleasant or dangerous effects an abrupt mention of so dreadful a circ.u.mstance might have upon her.

In a few minutes Purcel and his patron were on their way to Longshot Lodge, the residence of the proctor. At the solicitation of the parson, however, they avoided the direct line of road, and reached home by one that was much more circuitous, and as the latter thought also more safe.

Here, after Waiting for the arrival of the mail coach, which he resolved to meet on its way to the metropolis, he partook of a lunch, which, even to his voluptuous palate, was one that he could not but admit to be excellent. He received four hundred pounds from the proctor, for which he merely gave him a note of hand, and in a short time was on his way to the metropolis.

CHAPTER VI.--Unexpected Generosity--A False Alarm.

At this period, notwithstanding the circ.u.mstances which we have just related--and they were severe enough--the distress of the Protestant clergy of Ireland was just only beginning to set in. It had not, as yet, however, a.s.sumed anything like that formidable shape in which it subsequently appeared. To any scourge so dreadful, no cla.s.s in the educated and higher ranks of society had been, within the records of historical recollection, ever before subjected. Still, like a malignant malady, even its first symptoms were severe, and indicative of the sufferings by which, with such dreadful certainty, they were followed.

On that day, and at the very moment when the mysterious attempt at a.s.sa.s.sination,which we have recorded, was made, Dr. Turbot's worthy curate, on returning home from the neighboring village of Lisnagola, was, notwithstanding great reluctance on his part, forced into the following conversation with his lovely but dejected wife:

"Charles," said she, fixing her large, tearful eyes upon him, with a look in which love, anxiety, and sorrow were all blended, "I fear you have not been successful in the village. Has Moloney refused us?"

"Only conditionally, my dear Maria--that is, until our account is paid up--but for the present, and perhaps for a little longer, we must deny ourselves these 'little luxuries,'" and he accompanied the words with a melancholy smile. "Tea and sugar and white bread are now beyond our reach, and we must be content with a simpler fare."

Mrs. Temple, on looking at their children, could scarcely refrain from tears; but she knew her husband's patience and resignation, and felt that it was her duty to submit with humility to the dispensation of G.o.d.

"You and I, my dear Charles, could bear up under anything--but these poor things, how will they do?"

"That reflection is only natural, my dear Maria; but it is spoken, dearest, only like a parent, who probably loves too much and with an excess of tenderness. Just reflect, darling, upon the hundreds of thousands of children in our native land, who live healthily and happily without ever having tasted either tea or loaf-bread at all; and think, besides, dearest, that there are, in the higher circles, a great number of persons whose children are absolutely denied these comforts, by advice of their physicians. Our natural wants, my dear Maria, are but simple, and easily satisfied; it is wealth and luxury only that corrupt and vitiate them. In this case, then, dearest, the Christian must speak, and act, and feel as well as the parent. You understand me now, love, and that is sufficient. I have not succeeded in procuring anything for you or them, but you may rest a.s.sured that G.o.d will not desert us."

"Yes, dear Charles," replied his wife, whose black mellow eyes beamed with joy; "all that is true, but you forgot that Dr. Turbot has arrived to receive his t.i.thes, and you will now receive your stipend. That will carry us out of our present difficulty at least."

"My dear Maria, it is enough to say that Dr. Turbot is in a position immeasurably more distressed and dreadful than ours. Purcel, his proctor, has been able to receive only about fifty pounds out of his usual half-yearly income of eight hundred. From him we are to expect nothing at present. I know not, in fact, how he and his family will bear this dreadful privation; for dreadful it must be to those who have lived in the enjoyment of such luxuries."

"That is indeed dreadful to such a family, and I pity them from my heart," replied his wife; "but, dearest,Charles, what are we to do?--except a small crust of bread, there is no food in the house for either them or you." As she uttered the words their eyes met, and his gentle and soothing Maria, who had been sitting beside him, threw herself upon his bosom--he clasped his arms around her--pressed her with melancholy affection to his heart, and they both wept together.

At length he added, "But you think not of yourself, my Maria."

"I!" she replied; "ah! what am I? Anything, you know, will suffice for me--but you and they, my dearest Charles--and then poor Lilly, the servant; but, dearest," she exclaimed, with a fresh, and if possible, a more tender embrace, "I am not at all repining--I am happy with you--happy, happy--and never, never, did I regret the loss of my great and powerful friends less than I do at this moment, which enables me to see and appreciate the virtues and affection to which my heart is wedded, and which I long since appreciated."

Her husband forced a smile, and kissed her with an air of cheerfulness.

"Pardon me," he said, "dearest Maria, for two or three minutes I wish to go to the library to make a memorandum. I will soon return."

He then left her, after a tender embrace, and retired, as he said, to the library, where, smote to the heart by his admiration of her affection and greatness of mind, he sat down, and whilst he reflected on the dest.i.tution to which he had brought the granddaughter of an earl, he wept bitterly for several minutes. It was from this peculiar state of feeling that he was called upon to hear an account of the attempted a.s.sa.s.sination, with which the reader is already acquainted.

Our friend, the Cannie Soogah, having taken the town of Lisnagola on his way, in order to effect some sales with one of those general country merchants on a somewhat small scale, that are to be found in almost every country town, happened to be sitting in a small back-parlor, when a certain conversation took place between Mr. Temple and Molony, the proprietor of the establishment to which we have just alluded. He heard the dialogue, we say, and saw that the mild and care-worn curate had been, not rudely certainly, but respectfully, yet firmly, refused further credit. By whatever spirit prompted it is not for us to say; at all events he directed his footsteps to the glebe, and--but it is unnecessary to continue the description, or rather to repeat it. The reader is already aware of what occurred until the departure of Dr.

Turbot and the proctor.

Temple, having seen them depart, walked out for a little, in order to compose his mind, and frame, if possible, some project for the relief of his wife and children. In the meantime, our jolly pedlar, having caught a glimpse of Mrs. Temple at the parlor window, presented himself, and begged to know if she were inclined to make any purchases. She nodded him a gentle and ladylike refusal, upon which he changed his ground, and said, "Maybe, ma'am, if you're not disposed to buy, that you'd have something you'd like to part wid. If you have, ma'am, bad cess to the purtier purchaser you'd meet wid--shawls or trinkets, or anything that way--I mane, ma'am," he added, "things that arn't of any use to you--an'

I'm the boy that will sh.e.l.l out the ready money, and over the value."

Mrs Temple had known little--indeed nothing--of the habits of such a cla.s.s as that to which our gay friend belonged; but be this as it may, his last words struck her quickly and forcibly.

"Do you make purchases, then?" she said.

"I do, ma'am, plaise your honor," replied the pedlar.