Respect for the memory of Major Dawson of course prevented the immediate
marriage of Edward and Fanny; but the winter months passed cheerfully
away in looking forward to the following autumn which should witness
the completion of their happiness. Though Edward was thus tempted by
the society of the one he loved best in the world, it did not make him
neglect the duties he had undertaken in behalf of Gustavus. Not only did
he prosecute his reading with him regularly, but he took no small pains
in looking after the involved affairs of the family, and strove to make
satisfactory arrangements with those whose claims were gnawing away the
estate to nothing. Though the years of Gusty's minority were but few,
still they would give the estate some breathing-time; and creditors,
seeing the minor backed by a man of character, and convinced a sincere
desire existed to relieve the estate of its encumbrances and pay all
just claims, presented a less threatening front than hitherto, and
listened readily to such terms of accommodation as were proposed
to them. Uncle Robert (for the breaking of whose neck Ratty's pious
aspirations had been raised) behaved very well on the occasion. A loan
from him, and a partial sale of some of the acres, stopped the mouths
of the greedy wolves who fatten on men's ruin, and time and economy were
looked forward to for the discharge of all other debts. Uncle Robert,
having so far acted the friend, was considered entitled to have a
partial voice in the ordering of things at the Hall; and having a notion
that an English accent was genteel, he desired that Gusty and Ratty
should pass a year under the roof of a clergyman in England, who
received a limited number of young gentlemen for the completion of
their education. Gustavus would much rather have remained near Edward
O'Connor, who had already done so much for him; but Edward, though
he regretted parting with Gustavus, recommended him to accede to
his uncle's wishes, though he did not see the necessity of an Irish
gentleman being ashamed of his accent.
The visit to England, however, was postponed till the spring, and the
winter months were used by Gustavus in availing himself as much as he
could of Edward's assistance in putting him through his classics,
his pride prompting him to present himself creditably to the English
clergyman.
It was in vain to plead _such_ pride to Ratty, who paid more attention
to shooting than his lessons. His mother strove to persuade--Ratty
was deaf. His “gran” strove to bribe--Ratty was incorruptible. Gusty
argued--Ratty answered after his own fashion.
“Why won't you learn even a little?”
“I'm to go to that 'English fellow' in spring, and I shall have no fun
then, so I'm making good use of my time now.”
“Do you call it 'good use' to be so dreadfully idle and shamefully
ignorant?”
“Bother!--the less I know, the more the English fellow will have to
teach me, and Uncle Bob will have more worth for his money;” and then
Ratty would whistle a jig, fling a fowling-piece over his shoulder,
and shout “Ponto! Ponto! Ponto!” as he traversed the stable-yard; the
delighted pointer would come bounding at the call, and, after circling
round his young master with agile grace and yelps of glee at the sight
of the gun, dash forward to the well-known “bottoms” in eager expectancy
of ducks and snipe. How fared it all this time with the lord of
Scatterbrain? He became established, for the present, in a house that
had been a long time to let in the neighbourhood, and his mother was
placed at the head of it, and Oonah still remained under his protection,
though the daily sight of the girl added to Andy's grief at the
desperate plight in which his ill-starred marriage placed him, to say
nothing of the constant annoyance of his mother's growling at him for
his making “such a Judy of himself;” for the dowager Lady Scatterbrain
could not get rid of her vocabulary at once. Andy's only resource under
these circumstances was to mount his horse and fly.
As for the dowager Lady Scatterbrain, she had a carriage with “a
picture” on it, as she called the coat of arms, and was fond of driving
past the houses of people who had been uncivil to her. Against Mrs.
Casey (the renowned Matty Dwyer) she entertained an especial spite, in
consideration of her treatment of her beautiful boy and her own pair
of black eyes; so she determined to “pay her off” in her own way, and
stopping one day at the hole in the hedge which served for entrance to
the estate of the “three-cornered field,” she sent the footman in to say
the _dowjer_ Lady Scatter_breen_ wanted to speak with “Casey's wife.”
When the servant, according to instructions, delivered this message, he
was sent back with the answer, “that if any lady wanted to see Casey's
wife, 'Casey's wife,' was at home.”
“Oh, go back, and tell the poor woman I don't want to bring her to the
door of my carriage, if it's inconvaynient. I only wished to give her
a little help; and tell her if she sends up eggs to the big house, Lady
Scatterbreen will pay her for them.”
When the servant delivered this message, Matty grew outrageous at the
means “my lady” took of crowing over her, and rushing to the door, with
her face flushed with rage, roared out, “Tell the old baggage I want
none of her custom; let her lay eggs for herself.”
The servant staggered back in amaze; and Matty, feeling he would not
deliver her message, ran to the hole in the hedge and repeated her
answer to my lady herself, with a great deal more which need not be
recorded. Suffice it to say, my lady thought it necessary to pull up the
glass, against which Matty threw a handful of mud; the servant jumped up
on his perch behind the carriage, which was rapidly driven away by the
coachman, but not so fast that Matty could not, by dint of running, keep
it “within range” for some seconds, during which time she contrived to
pelt both coachman and footman with mud, and leave her mark on their
new livery. This was a salutary warning to the old woman, who was more
cautious in her demonstrations of grandeur for the future. If she was
stinted in the enjoyment of her new-born dignity abroad, she could
indulge it at home without let or hindrance, and to this end asked Andy
to let her have a hundred pounds, in one-pound notes, for a particular
purpose. What this purpose was no one was told or could guess, but for
a good while after she used to be closeted by herself for several hours
during the day.
Andy had his hours of retirement also, for with praiseworthy industry he
strove hard, poor fellow, to lift himself above the state of ignorance,
and had daily attendance from the parish schoolmaster. The mysteries of
“pothooks and hangers” and ABC weighed heavily on the nobleman's mind,
which must have sunk under the burden of scholarship and penmanship,
but for the other “ship”--the horsemanship--which was Andy's daily
self-established reward for his perseverance in his lessons. Besides he
really _could_ ride; and as it was the only accomplishment of which he
was master, it was no wonder he enjoyed the display of it; and, to say
the truth, he did, and that on a first-rate horse too. Having appointed
Murtough Murphy his law-agent, he often rode over to the town to talk
with him, and as Murtough could have some fun and thirteen and fourpence
also per visit, he was always glad to see his “noble friend.” The high
road did not suit Andy's notion of things; he preferred the variety,
shortness, and diversion of going across the country on these occasions;
and in one of these excursions, in the most secluded portion of his
ride, which unavoidably lay through some quarries and deep broken
ground, he met “Ragged Nance,” who held up her finger as he approached
the gorge of this lonely dell, in token that she would speak with him.
Andy pulled up.
“Long life to you, my lord,” said Nance, dropping a deep curtsey, “and
sure I always liked you since the night you was so bowld for the sake
of the poor girl--the young lady, I mane, now, God bless her--and I just
wish to tell you, my lord, that I think you might as well not be going
these lonely ways, for I see _them_ hanging about here betimes, that
maybe it would not be good for your health to meet; and sure, my lord,
it would be a hard case if you were killed now, havin' the luck of the
sick calf that lived all the winther and died in the summer.”
“Is it that big blackguard, _Shan More_, you mane?” said Andy.
“No less,” said Nance--growing deadly pale as she cast a piercing
glance into the dell, and cried, in a low, hurried tone--“Talk of the
divil--and there he is--I see him peep out from behind a rock.”
“He's running this way,” said Andy.
“Then you run the other way,” said Nance; “look there--I see him strive
to hide a blunderbuss under his coat--gallop off, for the love o' God!
or there'll be murther.”
“Maybe there will be that same,” said Andy, “if I leave you here, and
he suspects you gave me the hard word.” [Footnote: “Hard word” implies a
caution.]
“Never mind me,” said Nance, “save yourself--see, he's moving fast,
he'll be near enough to you soon to fire.”
“Get up behind me,” said Andy; “I won't leave you here.”
“Run, I tell you.”
“I won't.”
“God bless you, then,” said the woman, as Andy held out his hand and
gripped hers firmly.
“Put your foot on mine,” said Andy.
The woman obeyed, and was soon seated behind our hero, gripping him fast
by the waist, while he pushed his horse to a fast canter.
“Hold hard now,” said Andy, “for there's a stiff jump here.” As he
approached the ditch of which he spoke, two men sprang up from it, and
one fired, as Andy cleared the leap in good style, Nance holding on
gallantly. The horse was not many strokes on the opposite side, when
another shot was fired in their rear, followed by a scream from
the woman. To Andy's inquiry, if she was “kilt,” she replied in the
negative, but said “they hurt her sore,” and she was “bleeding a power;”
but that she could still hold on, however, and urged him to speed. The
clearance of one or two more leaps gave her grievous pain; but a large
common soon opened before them, which was skirted by a road leading
directly to a farm-house, where Andy left the wounded woman, and then
galloped off for medical aid; this soon arrived, and the wound was found
not to be dangerous, though painful. The bullet had struck and pierced
a tin vessel of a bottle form, in which Nance carried the liquid
gratuities of the charitable, and this not only deadened the force of
the ball, but glanced it also; and the escapement of the butter-milk,
which the vessel contained, Nance had mistaken for the effusion of her
own blood. It was a clear case, however, that if Nance had not been
sitting behind Andy, Lord Scatterbrain would have been a dead man, so
that his gratitude and gallantry towards the poor beggar woman proved
the means of preserving his own life.