In the course of about two or three hours after the transaction already
stated, old Peety Dim was proceeding towards the post-office with a
letter, partly in his closed hand, and partly up the inside of his
sleeve, so as that it might escape observation. The crowds were still
tumultuous, but less so than in the early part of the day; for, as we
said, they were diminishing in numbers, those who had been so long from
home feeling a natural wish to return to their families and the various
occupations and duties of life which they had during this protracted
contest been forced to neglect. Peety had got as far as the
market-house--which was about the centre of the street--on his way, we
say, to the post-office, when he met his daughter Nanny, who, after a
few words of inquiry, asked him where he was going.
“Faith, an' that's more than I dare tell you,” he replied.
“Why,” she said, “is there a saicret in it, I'm sure you needn't keep it
from me, whatever it is.”
This she added in a serious and offended tone, which, however, was not
lost on the old man.
“Well,” said he, “considherin' the man he is, an' what you know about
him, I think I may as well tell you. It's a letther I'm bringin' to slip
into the post-office, unknownst.”
“Is it from Hycy?” she asked.
“From Hycy, and no other.”
“I'll hould a wager,” she replied, “that that's the very letther I seen
him openin' through the key hole doar this mornin'. Do you know who it's
to?” she inquired.
“Oh, the sorra know; he said it was a love-letther, and that he did not
wish to be seen puttin' it in himself.”
“Wait,” said she, “give it to me here for a minute; here's Father
M'Gowan comin' up, and I'll ax him who it's directed to.”
She accordingly took the letter out of his hand, and approaching the
priest, asked him the name of the person to whom it was addressed.
“Plaise your reverence,” she said, “what name's on the back of this?--I
mane,” said she, “who is goin' to?”
The priest looked at it, and at once replied, “It is goin' to Bryan
M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, the traitor, and it comes from Major Vanston,
the enemy to his liberty and religion, that his infamous vote put into
Parliament, to rivet our chains, and continue our degradation. So there,
girl, you have now the bigot from whom it comes, and the apostate to
whom it goes. Who gave it to you?”
Nanny, who from some motives of her own, felt reluctant to mention
Hycy's name in the matter, hastily replied, “A person, plaise your
reverence, from Major Vanston.”
“Very well, girl, discharge your duty,” said the priest; “but I tell
you the devil will never sleep well till he has his clutches in the same
Major, as well as in the shameless apostate he has corrupted.”
Having uttered these words, he passed on, and Nanny in a minute or two
afterwards returned the letter to her father, who with his own hands put
it into the post-office.
“Now,” said she to her father, “the people is scatterin' themselves
homewards; and the streets is gettin' clear--but listen--that letter
is directed to Bryan M'Mahon; will you keep about the post-office here;
Bryan's in town, an' it's likely when the danger's over that he may be
passin'. Now you know that if he does, the people in the shop where the
post-office is kep' will see him, an' maybe he'll get the letter to-day,
or I'll tell you what, watch Hycy; take my word for it, he has some
scheme afoot.”
“Hycy's no favorite wid you, Nanny.”
“Why you know he's not, an' indeed I don't know why he's one wid you.”
“Throth an' he is, many a shillin' an' sixpence he throws me,--always
does indeed wherever he meets me.”
“No matter, maybe the day will soon come when you'll change your opinion
of him, that's all I say, except to keep your eye on him; and I'll tell
you why I bid you, some day soon.”
“Well, achora, maybe I may change my opinion of him; but at present I
say he is my favorite, an' will be so, till I know worse about him.”
Nanny, having bade him good-bye, and repeated her wish that the old man
would watch the post-office for some time, proceeded up the street
in the direction of the grocer's, to whom she had been dispatched for
groceries.
Two hours more had now elapsed, the crowds were nearly dispersed, and
the evening was beginning to set in, when Hycy Burke called at the
post-office, and for the second time during the day, asked if there was
a letter for him.
The post-master searched again, and replied, “No; but here's another for
Bryan M'Mahon.”
“What!” he exclaimed, “another for Bryan! Why he must have an extensive
correspondence, this Bryan M'Mahon. I wonder who it's from.”
“There's no wonder at all about it,” replied the post-master, “it's from
Major Vanston. Here's his frank and handwriting in the direction and
all.”
“Allow me to look,” said Hycy, glancing at it. “Yes, you are quite
right, that is the gallant Major's hand, without any mistake whatsoever.
I will not fetch him this letter,” he proceeded, “because I know not
when I may see him; but if I see him, I shall tell him.”
Peety Dim, who had so placed himself in the shop attached to the
post-office, on seeing Hycy approach, that he might overhear this
conversation without being seen, felt, considerably surprised that Hycy
should seem to have been ignorant that there was a letter for M'Mahon,
seeing that it was he himself who had sent it there. He consequently
began to feel that there was some mystery in the matter; but whatever it
might be, he knew that it was beyond his power to develop.
On coming forward from the dark part of the shop, where he had been
standing, he asked the post-master if there was a second letter for
M'Mahon.
“No,” replied the man, “there is only the one. If you see him, tell him
there's a letter from Major Vanston in the office for him.”
We must still trace Hycy's motions. On leaving the post-office, he went
directly to the Head Inn, where he knew Bryan M'Mahon was waiting until
the town should become perfectly calm and quiet. Here he found Bryan,
whose mind was swayed now to one side and now to another, on considering
the principle on which he had voted, and the consequences to which that
act might expose him.
“I know I will have much to endure,” he thought, while pacing the room
by himself in every way, “but I little value anything the world at large
may think or say, so that I don't lose the love and good opinion of
Kathleen Cavanagh.”
“Why, Bryan,” said Hycy, as he entered, “I think you must provide a
secretary some of these days, your correspondence is increasing so
rapidly.”
“How is that?” inquired the other.
“Simply that there's another letter in the post-office for you, and if I
don't mistake, from the same hand--that of our friend the Major.”
“I'm not aware of anything he could have to write to me about now,”
replied Bryan; “I wonder what can it be?”
“If you wish I shall fetch you the letter,” said Hycy, “as you have an
objection I suppose to go out until the town is empty.”
“Thank you, Hycy, I'll feel obliged to you if you do; and Hycy, by
the way, I am sorry that you and I ever mistook or misunderstood one
another; but sich things happen to the best of friends, and why should
we hope to escape?”
“Speak only for yourself, Bryan,” replied Hycy, “the misunderstanding
was altogether on your side, not on mine. I always knew your value and
esteemed you accordingly. I shall fetch your letter immediately.”
On returning he placed the document aforesaid in M'Mahon's hands,
and said, in imitation of his friend Teddy Phats--“Come now, read her
up.” Bryan opened the letter, and in the act of doing so a fifty pound
note presented itself, of which, as it had been cut in two, one half
fell to the ground.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Hycy, suddenly taking it up, “this looks well--what
have we here? A fifty pound note!”
“Yes,” replied Bryan; “but why cut in two? here however is something
written, too--let me see--
“'Accept this as an earnest of better things for important services. The
fine imposed upon you has been reduced to fifty pounds--this will pay
it.
“A DEEPLY OBLIGED FRIEND.'”
The two young men looked at each other for some time without speaking.
At length M'Mahon's face became crimsoned with indignation!
“Who could have dared to do this?” said he, once more looking at the
bank-note and the few lines that accompanied it. “Who durst suppose
that a M'Mahon would sell his vote for a bribe? Did Vanston suppose that
money would sway me? for this I am sure must be his work.”
“Don't be too sure of that,” replied Hycy; “don't be too sure that it's
not some one that wishes you worse than Vanston does. In my opinion,
Bryan, that letter and the note contained in it were sent to you by
some one who wishes to have it whispered abroad that you were bribed. It
surely could not be Vanston's interest to injure your character or your
circumstances in any sense; and I certainly think him too honorable to
deal in an anonymous bribe of that kind.”
“Some scoundrel has done it, that's clear; but what would you have me to
do, Hycy? You are up to life and know the world a great deal better than
I do; how ought I to act now?”
“I'll tell you candidly, my dear Bryan, how I think you ought to act, or
at least how I would act myself if I were in your place.” He then paused
for a minute and proceeded:--“You know I may be wrong, Bryan, but I
shall advise you at all events honestly, and to the best of my ability.
I would keep this letter and this note, and by the way, what else can
you do?--I would say nothing whatsoever about it. The secret, you know,
rests with yourself and me, with the exception of the party that sent
it. Now, mark me, I say--if the party that sent this be a friend, there
will be no more about it--it will drop into the grave; but if it came
from an enemy the cry of bribery will be whispered about, and there will
be an attack made on your character. In this case you can be at no loss
as to the source from whence the communication came--Fethertonge will
then most assuredly be the man; or, harkee, who knows but the whole
thing is an electioneering trick resorted to for the purpose of
impugning your vote, and of getting Vanston out on petition and
scrutiny. Faith and honor, Bryan, I think that this last is the true
reading.”
“I'm inclined to agree with you there,” replied Bryan, “that looks like
the truth; and even then I agree with you still that Fethertonge is at
the bottom of it. Still how am I to act?”
“In either case, Bryan, precisely as I said. Keep the letter and the
bank-note; say nothing about it--that is clearly your safest plan; do
not let them out of your hands, for the time may come when it will be
necessary to your own character to show them.”
“Well, then, I will be guided by you, Hycy. As you say no one knows the
secret but yourself and me; if it has come from a friend he will say
nothing about it, but if it has come from an enemy it will be whispered
about; but at all events I have you as proof that it did not come to me
by any bargain of mine.”
Hycy spoke not a word, but clapped him approvingly on the shoulder, as
much as to say--“Exactly so, that is precisely the fact,” and thus ended
the dialogue.
We all know that the clearer the mirror the slighter will be the breath
necessary to stain it; on the breast of an unsullied shirt the most
minute speck will be offensively visible. So it is with human character
and integrity. Had Bryan M'Mahon belonged to a family of mere ordinary
reputation--to a family who had generally participated in all the good
and evil of life, as they act upon and shape the great mass of society,
his vote might certainly have created much annoyance to his party for
a very brief period--just as other votes given from the usual
motives--sometimes right and honorable--sometimes wrong and
corrupt--usually do. In his case, however, there was something
calculated to startle and alarm all those who knew and were capable of
appreciating the stainless honor and hereditary integrity of the family.
The M'Mahon's, though inoffensive and liberal in their intercourse with
the world, even upon matters of a polemical nature, were nevertheless
deeply and devotedly attached to their own religion, and to all those
who in any way labored or contributed to relieve it of its disabilities,
and restore those who professed it to that civil liberty which had been
so long denied them. This indeed was very natural on the part of the
M'Mahons, who would sooner have thought of taking to the highway, or
burning their neighbor's premises, than supporting the interests or
strengthening the hands of any public man placed, in a position to use
a hostile influence against them. There was only one other family in the
barony, who in all that the M'Mahon's felt respecting their religion and
civil liberty, Were far in advance of them. These were the Cavanaghs,
between whom and the M'Mahons their existed so many strong points
of resemblance that they only differed from the others in
degree--especially on matters connected with religion and its
privileges. In these matters the Cavanaghs were firm, stern, and
inflexible--nay, so heroic was the enthusiasm and so immovable the
attachment of this whole family to their creed, that we have no
hesitation whatever in saying that they would have laid down their lives
in its defence, or for its promotion, had such a sacrifice been demanded
from them. On such a family, then, it is scarcely necessary to
describe the effects of what was termed Bryan M'Mahon's apostacy. The
intelligence came upon them in fact like a calamity. On the very evening
before, Gerald Cavanagh, now a fierce advocate for Edward Burke, having,
in compliance with old Jemmy, altogether abandoned Hycy, had been urging
upon Kathleen the prudence and propriety of giving Bryan M'Mahon up, and
receiving the address of young Burke, who was to inherit the bulk of his
father's wealth and property; and among other arguments against M'Mahon
he stated a whisper then gaining ground, that it was his intention to
vote for Vanston.
“But I know to the contrary, father,” said Kathleen, “for I spoke to
him on that very subject, and Bryan M'Mahon is neither treacherous nor
cowardly, an' won't of course abandon his religion or betray it into the
hands of its enemies. Once for all, then,” she added, calmly, and with
a smile full of affection and good humor, “I say you may spare both
yourself and me a great deal of trouble, my dear father, I grant you
that I like and esteem Edward Burke as a friend, an' I think that he
really is what his brother Hycy wishes himself to be thought--a true
gentleman--but that is all, father, you know; for I would scorn to
conceal it, that Bryan M'Mahon has my affections, and until he proves
false to his God, his religion, and his country, I will never prove
false to him nor withdraw my affections from him.”
“For all that,” replied her father, “it's strongly suspected that he's
goin' over to the tories, an' will vote for Vanston to-morrow.”
Kathleen rose with a glowing cheek, and an eye sparkling with an
enthusiastic trust in her lover's faith; “No, father,” said she, “by the
light of heaven above us, he will never vote for Vanston--unless Vanston
becomes the friend of our religion. I have only one worthless life, but
if I had a thousand, and that every one of them was worth a queen's, I'd
stake them all on Bryan M'Mahon's truth. If he ever turns traitor--let
me die before I hear it, I pray God this night!”
As she spoke, the tears of pride, trust, and the noble attachment by
which she was moved, ran down her cheeks; in fact, the natural dignity
and high moral force of her character awed them, and her father
completely subdued, simply replied:--
“Very well, Kathleen; I'll say no more, dear; I won't press the matter
on you again, and so I'll tell Jemmy Burke.”
Kathleen, after wiping away her tears, thanked him, and said with a
smile, and in spite of the most boundless confidence in the integrity
of her lover, “never, at any rate, father, until Bryan M'Mahon turns a
traitor to his religion and his country.”
On the evening of the next day, or rather late at night, her father
returned from the scene of contest, but very fortunately for Kathleen's
peace of mind during that night, he found on inquiry that she and Hanna
had been for a considerable time in bed. The following morning Hanna,
who always took an active share in the duties of the family, and who
would scarcely permit her sister to do anything, had been up a short
time before her, and heard from her mother's lips the history of Bryan's
treachery, as it was now termed by all. We need scarcely say that she
was deeply affected, and wept bitterly. Kathleen, who rose a few minutes
afterwards, thought she saw her sister endeavoring to conceal her
face, but the idea passed away without leaving anything like a fixed
impression upon it. Hanna, who was engaged in various parts of the
house, contrived still to keep her face from the observation of
her sister, until at length the latter was ultimately struck by the
circumstance as well as by Hanna's unusual silence. Just as her father
had entered to breakfast, a sob reached her ears, and on going over to
inquire if anything were wrong, Hanna, who was now fairly overcome, and
could conceal her distress no longer, ran over, and throwing herself on
Kathleen's neck, she exclaimed in a violent burst of grief, “Kathleen,
my darling sister, what will become of you! It's all true. Bryan has
proved false and a traitor; he voted for Vanston yesterday, and that
vote has put the bitter enemy of our faith into Parliament.”
“Bryan M'Mahon a traitor!” exclaimed Kathleen; “no, Hanna--no, I
say--a thousand times no. It could not be--the thing is
impossible--impossible!”
“It is as true as God's in heaven, that he voted yesterday for Vanston,”
said her father; “I both seen him and heard him, an' that vote it was
that gained Vanston the election.”
Hanna, whose arms were still around her sister's neck, felt her stagger
beneath her on hearing those words from her father.
“You say you saw him, father, and h'ard him vote for Vanston. You say
you did?”
“I both seen the traitor an' h'ard him,” replied the old man.
“Hanna, dear, let me sit down,” said Kathleen, and Hanna, encircling her
with one hand, drew a chair over with the other, on which, with a cheek
pale as death, her sister sat, whilst Hanna still wept with her arms
about her. After a long silence, she at last simply said:--
“I must bear it; but in this world my happiness is gone.”
“Don't take it so much to heart avourneen,” said her mother; “but, any
way, hadn't you betther see himself, an' hear what he has to say for
himself. Maybe, afther all, it's not so bad as it looks. See him,
Kathleen; maybe there's not so much harm in it yet.”
“No, mother, see him I will not, in that sense--Bryan M'Mahon a traitor!
Am I a dreamer? I am not asleep, and Bryan M'Mahon is false to God and
his country! I did think that he would give his life for both, if he was
called upon to do so; but not that he would prove false to them as he
has done.”
“He has, indeed,” said her father, “and the very person you hate so
much, bad as you think him, did all in his power to prevent him from
doin' the black deed. I seen that, too, and h'ard it. Hycy persuaded him
as much as he could against it; but he wouldn't listen to him, nor pay
him any attention.”
“Kathleen,” said her sister, “the angels in heaven fell, and surely it
isn't wonderful that even a good man should be tempted and fall from the
truth as they did?”
Kathleen seemed too much abstracted by her distress to hear this.
She looked around at them all, one after another, and said in a low,
composed, and solemn voice, “All is over now between that young man and
me--and here is one request which I earnestly entreat you--every one of
you--to comply with.”
“What is it darling?” said her mother.
“It is,” she replied, “never in my hearing to mention his name while I
live. As for myself, I will never name him!”
“And think, after all,” observed her father, “of poor Hycy bein' true to
his religion!”
It would seem that her heart was struggling to fling the image of
M'Mahon from it, but without effect. It was likely she tried to hate him
for his apostacy, but she could not. Still, her spirit was darkened with
scorn and indignation at the act of dishonor which she felt her lover
had committed, just as the atmosphere is by a tempest. In fact, she
detested what she considered the baseness and treachery of the vote; but
could not of a sudden change a love so strong, so trusting, and so pure
as hers, into the passions of enmity and hatred. No sooner, however, had
her father named Hycy Burke with such approval, than the storm within
her directed itself against him, and she said, “For God's sake, father,
name not that unprincipled wretch to me any more. I hate and detest
him more than any man living he has no good quality to redeem him.
Ah! Hanna, Hanna, and is it come to this? The dream of my happiness has
vanished, and I awake to nothing now but affliction and sorrow. As for
happiness, I must think of that no more, father, after breakfast, do you
go up to that young man and tell him the resolution I have come to, and
that it is over for ever between him and. me.”
Soon after this, she once more exacted a promise from them to observe a
strict silence on the unhappy event which had occurred, and by no
means ever to attempt offering her consolation. These promises they
religiously kept, and from this forth neither M'Mahon's name nor his
offence were made the topics of any conversation that occurred between
them.