Handy Andy Volume I Part 50

O'Grady's arm instantly after dropped to his side, the pistol fell from his hand, and he staggered, for the pain of the wound was extreme. His second ran to his a.s.sistance.

"It is only in the arm," said O'Grady, firmly, though his voice was changed by the agony he suffered; "give me another pistol."

d.i.c.k at the same moment was beside Edward.

"You're not touched," he said.

Edward coolly pointed to his hat.

"Too much powder," said d.i.c.k; "I thought so when his pistols were loaded."

"No," said Edward, "it was my shot; I saw his hand twitch."

Scatterbrain demanded of d.i.c.k another shot on the part of O'Grady.

"By all means," was the answer, and he handed a fresh pistol to Edward.

"To give the devil his due," said d.i.c.k, "he has great pluck, for you hit him hard--see how pale he looks--I don't think he can hurt you much this time--but watch him well, my dear Ned."

The seconds withdrew; but with all O'Grady's desperate courage, he could not lift the pistol with his right arm, which, though hastily bound in a handkerchief, was bleeding profusely, and racked with torture. On finding his right hand powerless, such was his unflinching courage, that he took the pistol in his left; this of course impaired his power of aim, and his nerve was so shattered by his bodily suffering, that his pistol was discharged before coming to the level, and Edward saw the sod torn up close beside his foot. He then, of course, fired in the air.

O'Grady would have fallen but for the immediate a.s.sistance of his friends; he was led from the ground and placed in a carriage, and it was not until Edward O'Connor mounted his horse to ride away, that the crowd manifested their feelings. Then three tremendous cheers arose; and the shouts of their joy and triumph reached the wounded man as he was driven slowly from the ground.

CHAPTER XXI

The Widow Flanagan had long ago determined that, whenever the election should take place, she would take advantage of the great influx of visitors that event would produce, and give a grand party. Her preparations were all made to secure a good muster of her country friends, when once the day of nomination was fixed; and after the election began, she threw out all her hooks and lines in every direction, to catch every straggler worth having, whom the election brought into the town. It required some days to do this; and it was not until the eve of the fifth, that her house was turned upside down and inside out for the reception of the numerous guests whose company she expected.

The toil of the day's election was over; the gentlemen had dined and refreshed themselves with creature comforts; the vicissitudes, and tricks, and chances of the last twelve hours were canva.s.sed--when the striking of many a clock, or the consultation of the pocket-dial, warned those who were invited to Mrs. O'Flanagan's party, that it was time to wash off the dust of the battle-field from their faces, and mount fresh linen and cambric. Those who were pleased to call themselves "good fellows" declared for "another bottle;" the faint-hearted swore that an autograph invitation from Venus herself to the heathen Olympus, with nectar and ambrosia for tea and bread-and-b.u.t.ter, could not tempt them from the Christian enjoyment of a feather-bed after the f.a.g of such a day; but the _preux chevaliers_--those who did deserve to win a fair lady--shook off sloth and their morning trousers, and taking to tights and activity, hurried to the party of the buxom widow.

The widow was in her glory; hospitable, she enjoyed receiving her friends,--mirthful, she looked forward to a long night of downright sport,--coquettish, she would have good opportunity of letting Tom Durfy see how attractive she was to the men,--while from the women her love of gossip and scandal (was there ever a lady in her position without it?) would have ample gratification in the acc.u.mulated news of the county of twenty miles round. She had but one _large_ room at her command, and _that_ was given up to the dancing; and being cleared of tables, chairs, and carpet, could not be considered by Mrs. Flanagan as a proper reception-room for her guests, who were, therefore, received in a smaller apartment, where tea and coffee, toast and m.u.f.fins, ladies and gentlemen, were all smoking-hot together, and the candles on the mantel-piece trickling down rivulets of fat in the most sympathetic manner, under the influence of the gentle sighing of a broken pane of gla.s.s, which the head of an inquiring youth in the street had stove in, while flattening his nose against it in the hope of getting a glimpse of the company through the opening in the window-curtain.

At last, when the room could hold no more, the company were drafted off to the dancing-room, which had only long deal forms placed against the wall to rest the weary after the exertions of the jig. The aforesaid forms, by-the-bye, were borrowed from the chapel; the old wigsby who had the care of them for some time doubted the propriety of the sacred property being put to such a profane use, until the widow's arguments convinced him it was quite right, after she had given him a tenpenny-piece. As the dancing-room could not boast of a l.u.s.tre, the deficiency was supplied by tin sconces hung against the wall; for ormulu branches are not expected to be plenty in the provinces. But let the widow be heard for herself, as she bustled through her guests and caught a critical glance at her arrangements: "What's that you're faulting now?--is it my deal seats without cus.h.i.+ons? Ah! you're a _lazy Larry_, Bob Larkin. c.o.c.k you up with a cus.h.i.+on indeed! if you sit the less, you'll dance the more. Ah, Matty, I see you're eyeing my tin sconces there; well, sure they have them at the county ball, when candlesticks are scarce, and what would you expect grander from a poor lone woman?

besides, we must have plenty of lights, or how could the beaux see the girls?--though I see, Harry Ca.s.sidy, by your sly look, that _you_ think they look as well in the dark--ah! you _divil_!" and she slapped his shoulder as she ran past. "Ah! Mister Murphy, I'm delighted to see you; what kept you so late?--the election to be sure. Well, we're beating them, ain't we? Ah! the old country for ever. I hope Edward O'Connor will be here. Come, begin the dance; there's the piper and the fiddler in the corner as idle as a mile-stone without a number. Tom Durfy, don't ask me to dance, for I'm engaged for the next four sets."

"Oh! but the first to me," said Tom.

"Ah! yis, Tom, I was; but then, you know, I couldn't refuse the stranger from Dublin, and the English captain that will be there by-and-by; he's a nice man, too, and long life to him, wouldn't fire on the people the other day; I vow to the Virgin, all the women in the room ought to kiss him when he comes in. Ah, doctor! there you are; there's Mrs. Gubbins in the corner dying to have a chat with you; go over to her. Who's that _taazing_ the piano there? Ah! James Reddy, it's _you_, I see. I hope it's in tune; 't is only four months since the tuner was here. I hope you've a new song for us, James. The tuner is so scarce, Mrs. Riley, in the country--not like Dublin; but we poor country people, you know, must put up with what we can get; not like you citizens, who has las.h.i.+ngs of luxuries as easy as peas." Then, in a confidential whisper, she said, "I hope your daughter has practised the new piece well to-day, for I couldn't be looking after her, you know, to-day, being in such a bustle with my party; I was just like a dog in a fair, in and out everywhere; but I _hope_ she's _perfect_ in the piece;" then, still more confidentially, she added, "for _he's_ here--ah! I _wish it was_, Mrs.

Riley;" then, with a nod and a wink, off she rattled through the room with a word for everybody.

The Mrs. Riley, to whom she was so confidential, was a friend from Dublin, an atrociously vulgar woman, with a more vulgar daughter, who were on a visit with Mrs. Flanagan. The widow and the mother thought Murtough Murphy would be a good speculation for the daughter to "c.o.c.k her cap at" (to use their own phrase), and with this view the visit to the country was projected. But matters did not prosper; Murphy was not much of a marrying man; and if ever he might be caught in the toils of Hymen, some frank, joyous, unaffected, das.h.i.+ng girl would have been the only one likely to serve a writ on the jovial attorney's heart. Now, Miss Riley was, to use Murtough Murphy's own phrase, "a batch of bra.s.s and a stack of affectation," and the airs she attempted to play off on the country folk (Murphy in particular) only made her an object for his mischievous merriment; as an example, we may as well touch on one little incident _en pa.s.sant_.

The widow had planned one day a walking party to a picturesque ruin, not far from the town, and determined that Murphy should give his arm to Miss Riley; for the party was arranged in couples, with a most deadly design on the liberty of the attorney. At the appointed hour all had arrived but Murphy; the widow thought it a happy chance, so she hurried off the party, leaving Miss Riley to wait and follow under his escort. In about a quarter of an hour he came, having met the widow in the street, who sent him back for Miss Riley. Now Murtough saw the trap which was intended for him, and thought it fair to make what fun he could of the affair, and being already sickened by various disgusting exhibitions of the damsel's affectation, he had the less scruple of "taking her down a peg," as he said himself.

When Murtough reached the house and asked for Miss Riley, he was ushered into the little drawing-room; and there was that very full-blown young lady, on a chair before the fire, her left foot resting on the fender, her right crossed over it, and her body thrown back in a reclining att.i.tude, with a sentimental droop of the head over a greasy novel: her figure was _rather_ developed by her posture, indeed more so than Miss Riley quite intended, for her ankles were not unexceptionable, and the position of her feet revealed rather more. A bonnet and green veil lay on the hearth-rug, and her shawl hung over the handle of the fire-shovel. When Murphy entered, he was received with a faint "How d'

do?"

"Pretty well, I thank you--how are you?" said Murphy, in his rollicking tone.

"Oh! Miste' Murphy, you are so odd."

"Odd, am I--how am I odd?"

"Oh! _so_ odd."

"Well, you'd better put on your bonnet and come walk, and we can talk of my oddity after."

"Oh, indeed, I _cawn't_ walk."

"Can't walk!" exclaimed Murphy. "Why can't you walk? I was sent for you."

"'Deed I cawn't."

"Ah, now!" said Murphy, giving her a little tender poke of his forefinger on the shoulder.

"Don't, Mister Murphy, _pray_ don't."

"But why won't you walk?"

"I'm too delicate."

Murphy uttered a very long "Oh!!!!!"

"'Deed I am, Miste' Murphy, though you may disbelieve it."

"Well--a nice walk is the best thing in the world for the health. Come along!"

"Cawn't indeed; a gentle walk on a terrace, or a shadowy avenue, is all very well--the Rotunda Gardens, for instance."

"Not forgetting the military bands that play there," said Murphy, "together with the officers of all the barracks in Dublin, clinking their sabres at their heels along the gravel walks, all for the small charge of a fi'penny bit."

Miss Riley gave a reproachful look and shrug at the vulgar mention of a "fi'penny bit," which Murphy purposely said to shock her "Brummagem gentility."

"How can you be so odd, Miste' Murphy?" she said. "I don't joke, indeed; a gentle walk--I repeat it--is all very well; but these horrid rough country walks--these _masculine_ walks, I may say--are not consistent with a delicate frame like mine."

"A delicate frame!" said Murtough. "'Faith, I'll tell you what it is, Miss Riley," said he, standing bolt upright before her, plunging his hands into his pockets, and fixing his eyes on her feet, which still maintained their original position on the fender--"I'll tell you what it is, Miss Riley; by the _vartue_ of my oath, if your _other_ leg is a match for the one I see, the _divil_ a harm a trot from this to Dublin would do you!"

Miss Riley gave a faint scream, and popped her legs under her chair, while Murphy ran off in a shout of laughter, and joined the party, to whom he made no secret of his joke.

But all this did not damp Miss Riley's hopes of winning him. She changed her plan; and seeing he did not bow to what she considered the supremacy of her very elegant manners, she set about feigning at once admiration and dread of him. She would sometimes lift her eyes to Murtough with a languis.h.i.+ng expression, and declare she never knew any one she was so afraid of; but even this double attack on his vanity could not turn Murphy's flank, and so a very laughable flirtation went on between them, he letting her employ all the enginery of her s.e.x against him, with a mischievous enjoyment in her blindness at not seeing she was throwing away her powder and shot.

But to return to the party; a rattling country dance called out at once the energies of the piper, the fiddler, and the ladies and gentlemen, and left those who had more activity in their heads than their heels to sit on the forms in the background and exercise their tongues in open scandal of their mutual friends and acquaintances under cover of the music, which prevented the most vigorous talker from being heard further than his or her next-door neighbour. Dr. Growling had gone over to Mrs.

Gubbins', as desired, and was buried deep in gossip.

"What an extraordinary affair that was about Miss O'Grady, doctor."

"Very, ma'am."