The Tithe-Proctor Part 30

"Faith, to tell you the truth," replied Jack, "I'd rather not; I don't like to go near a dead body."

"Here," said the person called d.i.c.k, "give me the candle: poor fellow!

it is rest you want, and G.o.d forbid we wouldn't do everything in our power for you."

They then entered the apartment, and M'Carthy was about to lay himself beside the corpse, when his companion tapped him significantly on the shoulder, and, his finger on his lips pointed to the window and immediately whispered in his ear: "I will leave the windy so that it will open at wanst: three of us knows you, Mr. M'Carthy I will sing a song when I go in again, which they will chorus; fly then, for it's hard to say what might happen: the day is now breakin' and you might be known--in that case I needn't tell you what your fate would be."

He then returned to his companion having carefully closed the door after him so as to prevent, as much as possible the motions of M'Carthy from being seen or heard. On rejoining them he observed "well, if ever a poor boy was fairly broken down, and he is--throth he was no sooner, on the bed than he was off; an' among ourselves, the sleep must be heavy on him when he could close his eyes an' a dead man in the bed wid him."

CHAPTER XIII.--Strange Faces--Dare-Devil O'Driscol Aroused

We have already stated that the proctors daughters had relieved their mother from the duty which, that kind-hearted woman had been in the habit of imposing on herself we mean that of attending and relieving the sick and indigent in her immediate neighborhood. On the morning in question Juli Purcel, who, together with her sister, for some time past been attending the bed of an interesting young female, to one of her father's workmen, had got up at an early hour to visit her--scarcely with a hope, it is true, that she would find the poor invalid alive.

Much to her satisfaction, however, she found her better, and with some dawning prospects of ultimate recovery. She left with her mother the means of procuring such comforts as she considered might be suitable to her in the alternative of her convalescence, and had got more than home when she felt startled for a by the appearance of a person who seemed to have been engaged in some of these nightly outrages that were then so numerous in the country. The person in question had just leaped from an open breach in the hedge which bounded the right-hand side of the road exactly opposite where she was pa.s.sing. The stranger's appearance was certainly calculated to excite terror, especially in a female; for although he did not wear the s.h.i.+rt over his clothes, his face was so deeply blackened that a single shade of his complexion could not be recognized. We need not again a.s.sure our readers that Julia Purcel possessed the characteristic firmness and courage of her family, but notwithstanding this she felt somewhat alarmed at the appearance of a lawless Whiteboy, who was at that moment most probably on his return from the perpetration of some midnight atrocity. This alarm was increased on seeing that the person in question approached her, as if with some deliberate intent.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 445-- Alarmed at the appearance of a lawless Whiteboy]

"Stand back, sir," she exclaimed. "What can you mean by approaching me?

Keep your distance."

"Why, good G.o.d! my dear Julia, what means this? Do you not know me?"

"Know you! No, sir," she replied, "how could I know such a person?"

She had unconsciously paused a moment when the Whiteboy, as she believed him to be, first made his appearance, but now she pursued her way home, the latter, however, accompanying her.

"Why, my dear Julia, I am thunderstruck! What can I have done thus to incur your displeasure?"

"You are rude and impertinent, sir, to address me with such unjustifiable familiarity. It is evident you know me, but I am yet to learn how I could have formed an acquaintance with a person whose blackened face indicates the nature of his last night's occupation."

The person she addressed suddenly put up his hand, and then looking at his fingers, immediately disclosed a set of exceedingly white and well-formed teeth, which disclosure was made by a grin that almost immediately quavered off into a loud and hearty laugh.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, on recovering his gravity, "it is no wonder, my dear Julia, that you should not know me. Since I went out to shoot with Mogue Moylan, yesterday morning, I have gone through many strange adventures."

"What!" she exclaimed, with evident symptoms of alarm and vexation, "Frank M'Carthy!" and, as she spoke, the remarkable conversation which she had had with Mogue Moylan, and the information he had given her with respect to M'Carthy's connection with the Whiteboys, instantly flashed upon her, accompanied now by a strong conviction of its truth.

"Explain yourself, Mr. M'Carthy," she exclaimed, in a tone of voice which indicated anything but satisfaction. "How am I to account for this unbecoming disguise, so much at variance with your habits of life and education?--perhaps I should not say your habits of life--but certainly with your education. Have you, too, been tempted to join this ferocious conspiracy which is even now convulsing the country?"

"No wonder you should ask, my dear Julia," he replied; "but really the incidents, which have caused me to appear as you see me, are so strange, and yet so much in keeping with the spirit of the times, that I must defer, until a more convenient opportunity a full account of them."

"Do so, sir," she replied quickly; "allow yourself full time to give the best possible explanation of your conduct. I probably have put the question too abruptly; but, in the meantime, you will have the goodness, either to go on before me, or to fall back, as I presume, you will grant that it is neither delicate nor becoming for me, who wear no disguise and am known, to be seen at such an hour holding conversation with a Whiteboy."

The impropriety of the thing struck him at once, and he replied, "You are right, Julia; but I perceive that something has given you offence; if it be my appearance, I tell you that I can afford you a satisfactory explanation. Proceed now--I shall remain here for a time;--whether with black face or white, I should not wish it to be supposed that we held a clandestine meeting at this hour."

She then bowed to him with more formality than she had probably ever used, and proceeded home at a quicker pace.

She had just turned an angle of the road, and got consequently out of sight, when he heard a strong, but sweet and mellow voice singing the fine old Irish song of the Cannie Soogah, or Jolly Pedlar; and, on looking behind him, he perceived that worthy person approaching him at a tolerably rapid pace. The pedlar had no sooner glanced at M'Carthy than he grasped his tremendous cudgel with greater firmness, and putting his hand into his breast, he pulled out a pistol, and with these preparations approached our friend, still continuing his song, with the same careless glee, and an utter absence of all fear.

"'I' m the rantin' cannie soogah'--

"G.o.d save you, neighbor! you forgot to wash your face this mornin'."

"That's its natural color," replied M'Carthy, willing, now that he was out of all danger, to have a banter with his well-known friend the pedlar.

"If you take my advice then," said the pedlar, "you'll paint it white--it's a safer color in daylight at any rate. I'm thinkin' now, that if you met a party of peelers on pathrole, they might give you a resate for turnin' the same color red and white; however, _glunthoma_, (* Hear me) if you have any design upon the Cannie Soogah, I can only tell you that I never carry money about me, and even if I did, I have a couple o' friends here that 'ud standby me; ay, in throth, three o' them, for I have brother to this fellow (showing the pistol) asleep in my breast here, and he doesn't like to be wakened, you persave; so whoever you are, jog on and wash your face, as I said, and that's a friend's advice'

to you."

"Why, Cannie Soogah, is it possible you don't know me?"

"Throth I've been just thinkin' that I heard the voice before, but when or where is more than I can tell."

"Not know your friend Francis M'Carthy?"

"Eh, Mr. Francis M'Carthy! and, Lord o' life, Mr. M'Carthy, how do you come to have a black face? Surely you wouldn't belong to this business--black business I may call it--that's goin'?"

"Well, I should hope not, Cannie; but, for all that, you see me with a black face--ha!--ha!--ha!"

"I do indeed, Mr. Frank, and, between you and me, I'm sorry to see it."

"You will not be sorry to hear, however, that my black face saved my life last night."

"Arra thin, how was that, sir, if it's a fair question?"

M'Carthy then gave him a brief, and by no means a detailed account of the danger he had pa.s.sed.

"Well," said the other, "everything's clear enough when it's known; but, as it's clear that you have enemies in the neighborhood, I think the wisest thing you could do would be to lave it at wanst."

"Such, in fact, is my determination," replied M'Carthy; "no man, I believe, who is marked ought to remain in the country; that is, when he has no local duties that demand his presence in it, as I have not."

"You are right, sir; start this very day if you're wise, and don't give your enemies--since it appears that you have enemies--an opportunity of doin' you an injury; if they missed you twice, it's not likely they will a third time; but tell me, Mr. M'Carthy--hem--have you no suspicion as to who they are?"

"Not exactly; indeed I cannot say I have; the whole matter is shrouded in the deepest mystery. I am not conscious of having offended or injured any one, nor can I guess why my life should be sought after; but sought after unquestionably it is, and that with an implacable resentment that is utterly unaccountable."

"Well, then, Mr. Frank, listen:--I met about a dozen men--strangers they wor to me, although their faces weren't blackened--not more than twenty minutes ago; and one, o' them said to me, 'Cannie, every one knows' you, and you know every one--do you know me?'"

"'No,' says I; 'you have the advantage of me.'

"'Do you know any one here?' says he again.

"'Well, I can't say I do,' says I; 'you don't belong to this part of the country.'

"'If we did, Cannie,' said the spokesman, 'it isn't face to face, in the open day, we'd spake to you.'

"'An' what is it you have to say to me?' I axed; for, to tell you the truth, I was beginnin' to get unaisy someway.

"'Nothing to you; but we've been tould that you're well acquainted wid Procthor Purcel, and that you know a young man, by name M'Carthy, that stops for the present wid Mr. Magistrate O'Driscol.'

"'I do,' says myself; 'I'll not deny but I know them all well--I mane in the way o' business--for I call there often to sell my goods.'