THE WEDDING.
When Ussher first came into the parlour at Ballycloran, he asked
after Thady, and it will be necessary to explain why he did so; the
terms on which the two men stood towards each other not being such
as to render it probable that either should be very anxious for the
presence of the other.
It had come to the knowledge of Denis McGovery that Brady had asked
to the wedding a lot of men from Drumleesh, and some also from
Mohill--characters with whom Denis was not apt to consort himself,
and whom he looked on as paupers and rapparees. He had also made out,
it is presumed with the aid of his affianced, that some other motive
was probably ensuring their attendance than merely that of doing
honour to his, Denis's, nuptials. Pat Brady was not likely to have
made a confidant of his sister or of Denis on the occasion; but
nevertheless, the bridegroom had discovered that the meeting was,
to some extent, to be a political one, and moreover, that Thady
Macdermot was expected to be there.
Now McGovery, although it must be presumed that, in common with all
Irishmen of the lower order, he conceived that he was to a certain
degree injured and oppressed by the operation of the existing laws,
nevertheless had always thought it the wiser course to be with the
laws, bad as they might be, than against them. When, therefore, he
learnt that the brothers of the men whom Ussher had put into prison
were to be of the party, and that many of their more immediate
neighbours would be there, and remembered also that Captain Ussher
himself had promised to come to the "divarsion," mighty fears
suggested themselves to him, and he began to dread that the occasion
would be taken for offering some personal injury to the latter! In
which case, might not all be implicated?--and among the number that
dear person for whom Denis felt the tenderest regard--viz., himself?
Actuated by these apprehensions, Denis, on the morning of the
wedding, had gone to Ussher to unfold his budget of dreadful
news,--to assure the Captain that his only object "was to get himself
married," and to see that the "pigs and the thrifle of change were
all right,"--and strongly to advise the Captain to stay away; "not
that it wouldn't be a great honer for a poor boy like him to see his
honer down there, for he had the greatest rispect in life for him,
and all that wore the King's sword; but there war no knowing what
them boys might be afther when they got the dhrink in them."
Ussher thanked Denis for his communication, but at the same time
begged him not to disquiet himself--told him that there was no danger
in life; and declared that he felt so confident of the good feeling
of the men through the country towards him, particularly those at
Drumleesh and Mohill, that he should always feel perfectly safe
in their company--in fact, that he looked on their presence as a
protection. Poor Denis stared hard at him; but as he soon perceived
that the Captain was laughing at him for his solicitude, he retreated
with a grin on his face, remarking that he had meant all for the
best.
Though Captain Ussher affected to set no value on McGovery's tale,
he nevertheless thought that there might be something in it. He
determined, however, not to be deterred from going to the wedding.
Though in many respects a bad man, Ussher was very vigilant in the
performance of his official duties, and, as has been before said,
was possessed of sufficient courage. It had been part of McGovery's
disclosure that Thady Macdermot was to be at the wedding, and it
occurred to Ussher, that at any rate no personal violence would
be offered as long as young Macdermot was with him; he therefore
determined to see him first, and tell him what he had heard. It is
true he had no great love for the poor fellow; still he would have
been sorry to see him, from any cause of uneasiness or distress,
throw himself into the hands of men who might probably induce him to
join in acts which would render him subject to the severest penalties
of the law. Ussher understood Thady's character tolerably well; and
though he had no real sympathy for his sufferings, still he had manly
feeling enough to wish to save him, as Feemy's brother, from the
danger into which he believed him so likely to fall.
It was for the purpose of talking on this subject that he asked for
Thady; but when he found he was not in the house, nor expected home
to dinner, he was obliged to postpone what he had to say till he met
him at Mary Brady's wedding.
About seven o'clock, Feemy and her lover arrived at Mrs. Mehan's
little whiskey shop, where the marriage was to take place. The whole
party were already there: Father John was standing with his back to
a huge turf fire, in the outer room--the usual drinking room of the
establishment--amusing the bystanders with jokes, apparently at the
expense of the bridegroom. Mary Brady was dressed in a white muslin
gown, which, though it was quite clean, seemed to have been neither
mangled nor ironed, so multitudinous had been the efforts to make
it fit her ungainly person. She had a large white cap on her head,
extending widely over her ears; and her hair, parted on her left
brow, was smeared flat over her forehead with oil: her arms were
bare, and quite red, and her hands were thrust into huge white cotton
gloves, which seemed to make them so ashamed of themselves as utterly
to unfit them for their ordinary uses. Everyone that entered, said,
"Well, Mary," or, "Well, alanna, how's yourself?" or some greeting of
the kind, to which she answered only with a grin. She and her future
husband seemed totally unacquainted with each other, for since he
came in he hadn't spoken to her. In fact, poor Mary, as she expressed
herself to Feemy, "Couldn't get her sperrits up at all, and felt
quite cowed like."
Biddy, from Ballycloran, was her bridesmaid, and she, though she did
not emulate the bride in her white dress, had also thrust her head
into a huge cap, which, if it did not much add to her beauty, at any
rate made her sufficiently remarkable to show that she was one of the
principal characters of the evening.
Denis had procured himself a second-hand light brown coat, with metal
buttons; this was the only attempt at wedding finery which he had
made; but even this seemed to make him somewhat beside himself,
and gave him a strong resemblance to that well-known martyr to
unaccustomed grandeur--a hog in armour. Pat seemed to scorn the party
altogether, though he was to officiate in giving away the bride; he
was talking apart to Reynolds and one or two others, and seeing to
the proper arrangement and distribution of the good things which were
to follow the wedding. Thady was not in the place; he had not yet
arrived.
"Ah! Feemy," began Father John, as she walked in, followed by Ussher,
"how are you? and this is kind of you, Captain."
"Long life to you, Miss Feemy! and you, too, Captain dear," said
Mary, at last excited to speak by the greatness of the occasion.
"Your honers are welcome, Miss; your honers are welcome, Captain
Ussher," said Denis, forgetting that, for the present, he was only a
guest himself; and then Brady, and then Shamuth na Pibu'a, the blind
piper from County Mayo, "who had made the music out of his own head,
all about O'Connell"--and then Biddy, and Mrs. Mehan, and all the
boys and girls one after another, got up, and ducked their heads
down in token of kindly welcome to the "young misthress and her
lover;" and though most of those present, at other times, would have
said that it was a pity their own Miss Feemy should be marrying "a
born inimey of the counthry, like a Revenue officer, and a black
Prothestant too," it wasn't now, when she had come to honour the
wedding of one of themselves, that they would be remembering anything
against her or her lover.
"Well, Mary, so the time's nearly come," said Feemy, as she sat
down on the bench by the fire, that Mary, regardless of all bridal
propriety, wiped down for her with the tail of her white dress;
saying, as she did so, "What harum? sure won't the dust make it
worse, when the dancing comes on, and--"
"Whisper, Mary."
"What is it, Miss?
"Whisper, then."
"Ah, now! you'll be at me like the rest of 'em;" and she put her big
face down over Feemy's. "Are the sheets done, Mary?"
"Ah now! Miss, you're worse than 'em all!" and Mary put her big hand
with the big cotton glove, with the fingers widely extended, before
her face to hide the virgin blush.
"What's that, Feemy?" said Father John; "what's that I heard?"
"Go asy, now, Father John, do;" and Mary gave the priest a playful
push, which nearly put him into the fire; "for God's sake, Miss,
don't be telling him, now; you won't, darlint?"
"What was it, Feemy? all's fair now, you know."
"Only just something Mary was to get ready for her husband, then,
Father John--nothing particular. You'll never be married yourself,
you know, so you needn't ask."
"Oh! part of the fortune, was it? Trust Denis, he'll look to that; is
it the pigs, eh, Denis?"
"No, Father John, it jist a'nt the pigs," said Mary.
"Come, what is it?--out with it Denis."
"Sorrow a one of me knows what you're talking about," said Denis.
"It a'nt the calf at last, Denis, is it?"
"Bad luck to it for a calf!" exclaimed McGovery; and then, sidling up
to the priest, "you wouldn't be setting all the boys laughing at me,
Father John, and thim sthrangers, too."
"Well, well, Denis, but why didn't you tell me the whole?"
When Ussher had first entered, Brady had come up, expressly to
welcome him; and there was something in his extreme servility which
made Ussher fear all was not quite right. But Ussher had become
habituated to treat the servility of the poor as the only means
they had of deprecating the injuries so frequently in his power to
inflict; he had, too, from his necessity of not attending to their
supplications, acquired a habit of treating them with constant
derision, which they well understood and appreciated; and the
contempt which he always showed for them was one of the reasons why
he was so particularly hated through the country. Though now a guest
of Brady's, he could not help showing the same feeling. Moreover,
Ussher, who as far as the conduct of man to man is concerned had
nothing of treachery about him, strongly suspected Pat's true
character, and was therefore less likely to treat him with respect.
"Thank you, Brady, I'll do very well; don't you expect Mr. Thady
here?"
"Is it the young masthur, Captain? In course we do. Mary wouldn't be
married av he warn't to the fore."
"Indeed! I didn't know you'd so much respect for Mr. Macdermot as
that."
"Is it for the masthur, Captain?"
"For the matter of that, Brady, you wouldn't much mind how many
masters you had if they all paid you, I'm thinking."
"And that's thrue for you, Captain," said Pat, grinning in his
perplexity, for he didn't know whether to take what Ussher said for a
joke or not.
"Keegan, now, wouldn't be a bad master," said Ussher.
"And what puts him in your head, Captain Ussher?"
"Only they say he pays well to a sharp fellow like you."
"'Deed I don't know who he pays. They do be saying you pay a few of
the boys too an odd time or two yourself."
"Is it I? What should I be paying them for?"
"Jist for a sight of a whiskey still, or a little white smoke in the
mountains on a fine night or so. They say that same would be worth a
brace of guineas to a boy I could name."
"You're very sharp, Mr. Brady; but should I want such assistance, I
don't know any I'd sooner ask than yourself."
"Don't go for to throuble yourself, for I don't want to be holed of
a night yet; and that's what'll happen them that's at that work, I'm
thinking; and that afore long--not that I'm blaming you, for, in
course, every one knows it's only your dooty."
"You're very kind; but when will Mr. Thady be here?"
"'Deed I wonder he a'nt here, Captain; but war you wanting him?"
"Not in particular. Is it true the brothers of those poor fellows I
took up at Loch Sheen are here to-night?"
"They is, both of 'em; there's Joe Reynolds, sitting behind there--in
the corner where I was when you and Miss Feemy come in."
"It's lucky he wasn't with his brother, that's all: and he'd better
look sharp himself, or he'll go next."
"Oh, he's a poor harmless boy, Captain. He never does nothing that
way: though, in course, I knows nothing of what they do be doing; how
should I?"
"How should you, indeed! though you seem to be ready enough to answer
for your friend Reynolds. However, I don't want to be taking any more
of the boys at Drumleesh; so if he is a friend of yours, you'd better
warn him, that's all:" and he walked away.
"And it's warning you want yourself, Captain, dear," said Pat to
himself; "how clever you think yourself, with your Mr. Keegan and
your spies, and your fine lady Miss, there; but if you a'nt quiet
enough before Christmas, it's odd, that's all."
They were called into the inner room now, as Father John was going
to perform the ceremony; and such marshalling and arranging as he
had!--trying to put people into their proper places who would be
somewhere else--shoving down the forms out of the way--moving the
tables--removing the dishes and plates; for the supper was to be
eaten off the table at which the couple were to be married. And
though all the company had probably been at weddings before, and that
often, they seemed new to the proceedings.
"Denis, you born fool, will you come here, where I told you? and
don't keep the mutton spoiling all night;" and he shoved McGovery
round the table.
"Mary Brady, if you wish to change the ugly name that's on you this
night, will you come here?" and he seized hold of the young woman's
arm and dragged her round; "and who's wanting you, Biddy?" as the
girl followed close behind her principal.
"Shure, Father John, a'nt I to be bridesmaid then?"
"You, bridesmaid, and Miss Feemy to the fore! stay where you are.
Come, Feemy."
"Oh! Father John, I a'nt bridesmaid."
"Oh! but you will be; and, as Thady a'nt here, Captain Ussher 'll
be best man; come round, Captain,"--and Ussher came round. "And
mind, Captain," he added, whispering, "when I come to '_salute
nostra_'--those are the last words--you're to kiss the bride; you are
to kiss her first, and then you'll be married yourself before the
year's out."
"But I am not all ambitious that way."
"Never mind, do as I tell you; and don't forget to have a half-crown
in your hand, or so, when I bring the plate round. Come, Pat, where
are you? you've to give her away."
"She'll jist give herself away, then, Father John; by dad, she's
ready and willing enough!"
"Do as I tell you, and don't stand bothering. You want to keep
those shiners in your pocket--I know you;" and Brady, shamed into
compliance, also went into his place.
"Now, Denis, the other side of her, boy; why, you're as awkward to
marry as shoeing a colt."
"Why then, Father John, that's thrue; for I shod many a colt, and
never was married."
"You'll not be so long, avick; and may be you'll know more about it
this time next week. But here's the plate; what do you mean to give
the bride? you must put something handsome here for Mary."
"Faix then I forgot about that;" and he put his hand into his pocket
and forked out half-a-crown, which, with a sheepish look, he put in
the plate.
"Half-a-crown, indeed, for a tradesman like you! There's Corney Dolan
there, who don't seem to have a coat that fits him too well, would do
more for his wife, if it was God's pleasure he was to have one this
night."
"Well, there;" and Denis put down another half-crown. This money,
which is always put down just before the marriage, is a bridal
present to the bride, and becomes her exclusive property.
"Well, Mary, you must be getting the rest of it from him another
time."
"Let her alone for that, yer riverence," said Corney Dolan--who
considered that Father John's allusion to his coat privileged him to
put in his joke--"let her alone for that; she knows how to be getting
the halfpence, and to hoult them too."
"It's a great deal you're knowing about it, I'm thinking, Mr. Dolan,"
retorted Denis; "it's a pity you couldn't keep the hoult of any
yerself."
"Wisht, boys! how am I to marry you at all, if you go on this way?
Come, Mary, off with that glove of yours; now for the ring, Denis:"
and Mary hauled away at the glove, which the heat of her hand
prevented her from pulling off.
"Drat it for a glove, then!"
"Ah, alanna, gloves come so nathural to your purty hand, they don't
like to lave it at all."
At last, however, Mary got her hands ready for action; the ring was
in the plate with the two half-crowns; Father John was standing
between the two matrimonial aspirants; Ussher and Feemy were close
behind Mary, and Brady was sitting down on the right hand of Denis;
and the priest opened his book and began.
The marriage ceremony took about five minutes; but during this time
Father John found occasion to whisper Ussher to come up close to the
bride; and then, after hurrying over a great part of the service
almost under his breath, he pronounced the final words--_salute
nostra_--in a loud voice, adding at the same time to Ussher, "Now, my
boy!"
Ussher, in obedience to the priest's injunction, seized hold of
the bride at one side, to kiss her; while McGovery, determined to
vindicate his own right, pounced on her on the other; justly thinking
that the first kiss she should have after her wedding ought to be
given to her by her lawful married husband.
But, alas! both aspirants were foiled, and Mary got no kiss at all.
She, in her dismay at the energy of the two aspirants, ducked her
head down nearly to the level of the table, and Denis, in his zeal
and his hurry, struck Ussher in the face with his own forehead with
no slight force. The Captain retreated, half-stunned, and not very
well pleased with the salute he had received; and Denis was so
shocked at what he had done, that he forgot his wife--and, apparently
even the pigs and the money--in his regrets and apologies.
"Egad, Captain," said Father John, "that's more of a kiss than I
meant to get you; why, you're as awkward, McGovery, as a bullcalf.
Who'd have thought to see you butting at the Captain, like an old
goat on his hind legs!"
"Faix then, yer riverence, I didn't intend to be trating the Captain
in that way; but any way the Captain's head is 'amost as hard as my
own, for the flashes isn't out of my eyes yet."
"Never mind," said Ussher; "and if you always take care of your wife
the same way, my good fellow, you'll be sure she'll not come to any
harm, for want of looking after."
In the meantime Mary had escaped from the salute intended for her,
and was, with the aid of Biddy, Mrs. Mehan, and sundry others of her
visitors, engaged in extricating two legs of mutton, a ham, and large
quantities of green cabbages from the pots in which they had been
boiling in the outer room.
"God bless you, Sally dear, and will you drain them pratees? they'll
be biled to starch. And Mrs. Mehan, darling, my heart's broke with
the big pot here, will you lend me a hand? good luck to you then.
There's Denis and Pat, bad manners to them, they'd see me kilt with
all the bother, and stand there doing nothing under the sun."
And poor Mary McGovery, as we must now call her, toiled and groaned
under the labours of her wedding day till the perspiration ran from
under her wedding cap; and her wedding-dress gave manifold signs of
her zeal in preparing the wedding-supper.
Whilst Mary was dishing the mutton, &c., Father John was employed in
the not less important business of collecting his dues.
Between McGovery and Pat Brady he had succeeded in getting two
thirty-shilling notes, which lay in the bottom of the plate, and
formed a respectable base for the little heap of silver which he
would collect; and if he did not get as much as the occasion would
seem to warrant, the deficiency arose from no delicacy in asking, or
want of perseverance in urging.
"Now, Captain, you're the only Protestant among us; show these
Catholics of mine a liberal example--show them what they ought to do
for their priest,"--here Captain Ussher put a couple of half-crowns
in the plate. "There, boys, see what a Protestant does for me. Well,
Feemy, I never ask the ladies, you know, but I shan't let Thady off;
though he ain't here, I shall settle that in the rent."
"Oh, yes, Father John; make Thady pay for himself and me; Mrs.
Brennan has got all my money."
"But where's Thady, Feemy dear? I hope you and he are good friends
now."
"Oh yes, Father John; that is, I didn't see him since morning."
"But will he be here to-night?"
"He said he would; but you'd best ask Pat, he knows most about him."
This conversation took place in an under tone, and the priest walked
on with his plate.
"Come, Mr. Tierney, how's yourself? I see you're waiting there, quite
impatient, with your hands in your pocket. It's nothing less than a
crown piece, I'll go bail."
"'Deed then, crown pieces a'nt that plenty in the counthry, these
days, Father John; the likes of them"--and he put half-a-crown in the
plate--"are scarce enough."
The speaker was an old man, rather decently dressed in knee-breeches
and gaiters; he was one of those who, even in bad times, manage by
thrift and industry to get, among the poor, the reputation of
comparative wealth.
"And that's true for you, Mr. Tierney, and thank you kindly; they do
however say, that however scarce they are in the country, you've your
share of them."
"Go on, Father John, go on, you do be saying more than you know."
And by degrees the priest went through them all. From most of them he
got something; from some a shilling, from some only sixpence; some
few gave nothing at all: these in general endeavoured to escape
observation behind the backs of the donors, but Father John let none
of them off; and those who were unprepared, and who alleged their
poverty, and their inability, he reproved for their idleness, and
hinted rather strongly that their visits to Mrs. Mulready's, or
similar establishments, were the cause of their not being able to do
what he called their duty by their priest.
Standing in a corner, at the further end of the room, and resting
against a wall, was Joe Reynolds: as Father John had a bad opinion of
this man, and as he was not a parishioner of his, he was returning
without speaking to him, when Joe said,
"You're in the right of it, Father John, not to be axing such a poor
divil as me; you know, betwixt them all, they've not left me the sign
of a copper harp."
"I know, Reynolds, you're too fond of Mrs. Mulready's to have much
for your own priest, let alone another."
"Faix then, Father John, you shouldn't spake agin mother Mulready,
for she's something like your riverence; and a poor boy with an empty
pocket will get neither comfort nor good words from either of ye."
Father John did not think it to be consistent with his dignity to
answer this sally; so he returned to the other end of the room,
carefully counting as he went, and pocketing the money which he had
collected. In the meantime the bride, with such assistance as she
could get, had succeeded in putting the supper on the table: a leg of
mutton at the top, reclining on a vast bed of cabbage; a similar dish
at the bottom; and a ham, with the same garniture, in the middle.
The rest of the table was elegantly sprinkled with plates of smoking
potatoes; and what knives and forks and spoons and plates could be
spared from the head of the table, where a few were laid out with
some little order for the more aristocratic of the guests, were
collected together in a heap. At first, no one seemed inclined to sit
down; every one was struck with a sudden bashfulness, till Father
John, taking up the knife and fork at the top of the table, called
McGovery to bring his wife to supper.
"Now, Denis, my man, don't be thinking of those two pigs, but bring
your better half with you, and let's see how you can behave as a
married man."
"Come, Miss Feemy," said Mary, "if you and the Captain now would jist
sit down, and begin--there's a dear, Miss, do."
"Oh, Mary, nobody must sit down before you, to-night."
"Never mind me, Miss,--if I could only get you and the Captain
seated; yer honer," and she turned round with a curtsey to Ussher,
"there's Denis and Pat there will do nothing in life to help me!" and
the poor woman seemed at her wit's end to know how to arrange her
guests.
At last, however, Ussher and Feemy sat down at one side of the
priest, Denis and his wife at the other, and by degrees the table got
quite full; so much so, that when the boys saw one another taking
their seats, they were as eager as before they had been slow; and
they hustled each other at the bottom of the table, till they were
so crowded that they hadn't room to use their arms. Pat sat at the
bottom, and he and the priest emulated each other in the zeal and
celerity with which they cut up and distributed the joints before
them.
At Pat's end of the table plates were scarce, and the boys round him
took the huge lumps of blood-red mutton in their fists, and seemed
perfectly independent of such conventional wants as knives and forks,
in the ease and enjoyment with which they dispatched their repast.
At last Brady had done all to the joint that carving could do, and
having kept a tolerably sufficient lion's share for himself, he
passed the bone down the table, which was speedily divided into as
many portions as nature had intended that it should be.
Matters were conducted in a rather more decorous manner among the
aristocrats at Father John's end of the table--though even here they
were carried on in a somewhat rapid and voracious fashion. The priest
helped Feemy and Ussher, Mary and her husband; and then remarking
that he had done all the hard work of the evening, and that he
thought it was time to get a bit himself, he filled a moderate plate
for his own consumption, and passed the joint down to be treated
after the same manner as its fellow.
As long as the eating continued there was not much said; but when
the viands had disappeared, and the various bottles came into
requisition, the clatter of tongues became loud and joyous; and
though the first part of the entertainment had to all appearance come
to a rather too speedy termination for want of material to carry
it on, there seemed, from the quantity of whiskey produced, little
chance of any similar disappointment in what the greater portion of
the guests considered the more agreeable part of the entertainment.
"Well, Denis," said Father John, "I believe I've done all I can this
time; and as I know you'll want to be looking after the cow that's in
calf--no, not the cow, but the pigs--I'll be off."
"Folly on, Father John, folly on; it's always the way with yer
riverence--to be making yer game of a poor boy like me! But you're
not going out of this till you've dhrunk Mary's health here, and
heard a tune on the pipes, any way."
"Not a drop, Denis, thank ye," and Father John got up; "and now, boys
and girls, good night, and God bless you--and behave yourselves."
"Faix, then, yer riverence," said Joe Reynolds from the bottom of the
table, "you may tell by the way the boys take to the bottle, that
they'll behave themselves dacently and discreatly, like Christians."
"Indeed, then, Reynolds, where you are, and the whiskey with you, I
believe there's likely to be little discretion but the discretion of
drunkenness,--and not much of that."
"Thank ye, Father John, and it's you have always the kind word for
me."
"But, Father John," began Mary, "you're not really going to go
without so much as a tumbler of punch?"
"Not a drop, Mary, my dear; I took my punch after dinner--and I can't
stand too much. Good night, Feemy--you'll stay and have a dance I
suppose; good night, Captain Ussher."
And Father John got up from table, and went out of the room. As soon,
however, as Denis saw that he was really going, he rose and followed
him out of the door.
"Sit down, Denis, sit down--don't be laving your company such a night
as this."
"But I want to have jist a word with yer riverence."
"Well, what is it?"
"Jist step outside then, Father John."
"Well, Denis; is it anything about Betsy Cane? or has Ginty come
home, and is he wanting the pigs?"
"No, but would you just step outside here, Mr. McGrath; where those
long-eared ruffians won't be hearing me?" and he and the priest
walked a little distance from the door of Mrs. Mehan's house.
"I'm afeard, Father John, them born divils from Drumleesh and Mohill,
as Pat brought here to-night, are maning more than good to Captain
Ussher."
"And what makes you think that, Denis?"
"Why, Father John, Mary was saying that Pat towld her a lot of
his own frinds would be up with him, and that if they war talking
together, she and those as are with her dancing and the like, warn't
to be disturbing them; and then I knows them boys is very mad with
the Captain about that whiskey business up at Loch Sheen; and then
Joe Reynolds and Jack Byrne are in it, and their brothers are two of
them as war sazed and are now in Ballinamore Bridewell;--and I know
there is something of the sort going on through the counthry; and
faix, Father John, I wouldn't for money that anything happened, and I
in it the while; for a poor boy is always made to be mixed up in them
affairs, if by bad luck he is anywhere near at the time."
"But what do you think they'd do to the Captain to-night, Denis?"
"Faix then, yer riverence, I don't know what they'd be
doing,--murther him, maybe."
"God forbid! But, Denis, those men from Drumleesh could hardly know
Captain Ussher was going to be at the wedding to-night."
"Oh! yer riverence, they'd know it well enough from Pat Brady."
"But you don't think your wife's brother would join a party to murder
Ussher?"
"Why then, Father John--I think it's just he that would be putting
the others up to it."
"Good gracious, Denis! and what would he get by such deeds as that?
Isn't he comfortable enough."
"It isn't them as is poorest, is always the worst. But any how,
Father John, if you'd come back, and yer riverence wouldn't mind for
the onst jist sitting it out--jist dhrinking a dhrop at an odd time,
or colloguing a bit with owld Mr. Tierney, till we get the Captain
out of that, shure they'd never be doing anything out of the way as
long as yer riverence is in it."
"It isn't here--in the house, where there are so many
together--they'd attack him, even if they meant to do so; and I don't
think they mean it to-night; but it's on his way home--and my going
back would not in any way prevent that. But why don't you at once
tell Captain Ussher, and warn him that you fear he is not safe among
those fellows at night."
"That's jist what I did then; but he's so foolish, and so bowld,
there's no making him mind what one would say. I did tell him, Father
John, that I was afeared that there would be some lads in it wouldn't
be his well-wishers. But he laughed at me, and towld me there were
none of the boys through the counthry war so fond of him as those
Reynoldses and Byrnes, and all them others down at Drumleesh."
"Well, Denis, and what can I do more; if he laughs at you, why
wouldn't he also laugh at me?"
"Why, yer riverence, you and he are frinds like; besides, he wouldn't
trate the like of you as he would such a one as I; why I believe he
don't think the poor are Christians at all."
"It's true enough for some of them; but what would you have me do? I
couldn't walk back to Mohill by his horse's side;--and I tell you if
they attack him at all, it will not be at the house there, but on his
way home."
"'Deed then. Father John, any way I wish he was well out of that."
"It seems, Denis, it's yourself you're thinking of, more than the
Captain."
"Shure, and why wouldn't I--and I just married? A purty thing for
me just now, to be took up among a lot of blackguard ruffians for
murthering a king's officer."
"Well, Denis, I won't go back now,--it would look odd and do no good;
so do you go back and drink a tumbler of punch with the men, and
dance a turn or two with the girls, as you should on your wedding
night; and by and by I'll come down again as if to see what was going
on--and to walk home with Miss Feemy. The Captain must go back to
Ballycloran for his horse; and if he can be persuaded that there is
any danger, he can go up and sleep at the cottage; for I tell you, if
they mean to hurt him at all, it's on the road home to Mohill they'd
make the attempt. Do you go in and say nothing about it, and I'll be
down by and by."
Father John walked away towards his house, and Denis McGovery went
back with a heavy heart to dance at his own wedding; for though his
solicitude for the "king's officer" would not have been of the most
intense kind, had he thought that he was to be murdered anywhere
else, he had a great horror at the idea of any evil happening to that
important personage, when it could in any way affect his own comfort.
When Denis returned into Mrs. Mehan's big kitchen, the amusements of
the evening--dancing and drinking--were on the point of commencing.
Shamuth of the pipes, the celebrated composer and musician, was
sitting in the corner of the huge fireplace, with a tumbler of punch
within reach of his hand, preparing his instrument,--squeaking, and
puffing, and blowing in the most approved preparatory style. Mary was
working and toiling again for the benefit of her guests--carrying
kettles of boiling water into the inner room--emptying pounds of
brown sugar into slop-basins and mugs--telling the boys to take their
punch--taking a drop herself now and again, with some one who was
wishing her health and happiness, and comfort with the man she'd
got--inciting the girls to go and dance--and scolding her brother and
husband, because, "bad manners to them, divil a hand they'd lend to
help her, and she with so much to do, and so many to mind."
"And now, Miss Feemy, if you'd only get up and begin, dear, the
others would soon folly; come, Captain Ussher--would yer honer jist
stand up with Miss Feemy?"
"Oh, no, Mary,--you're the bride you know; Captain Ussher must dance
with you first."
"Oh! laws, Miss, but that'd be too much honour intirely."
"No, Mrs. McGovery, but it's I that'll be honoured; so if you will be
good enough to stand up with me, I shall be glad to shake a foot with
you:" and the gallant Captain led Mary into the middle of the floor.
"But, Captain, dear, sorrow a sup of dhrink did I see you take this
blessed evening; shure then you'll let me get you a glass of wine
before we all begin, jist to prevent your being smothered with the
dust like; shure, yer honour hasn't taken a dhrop yet."
"I won't be so long, Mary; but I won't have the wine yet, I'll wash
the dust out with a tumbler of punch just now. Here's your husband,
you must make him dance with the bridesmaid."
"I'm afraid then he ain't much good at dancing."
"Oh! but he must try.--Come, McGovery, there's Biddy waiting for you
to take her out; and here's Shamuth waiting--you don't think, man,
he'd begin till you're ready."
"Come, Denis," said his gentle spouse, "I never see sich a man; can't
ye stand up and be dancing, and not keeping everyone waiting that
way?"
"Mind yourself, Mary, and you'll have enough to mind. Come, Biddy,
alanna, let us have a shake together, all for luck;" and the happy
husband led forth Biddy of Ballycloran--she with the big cap--who
was only now beginning to regain the serene looks, which had been
dispelled by Father John's not permitting her to act as bridesmaid.
And now Shamuth--his preparatory puffs having been
accomplished--struck up "Paddy Carey" with full force and energy. As
this was the first dance, no one stood up but the two couple above
named; there were therefore the more left to admire the performance,
and better room left for the performers to show their activity.
"Faix then, Mary," said one, "it's yerself that dances illigant--the
Lord be praised--only look to her feet."
"Well, dear--Denis, shure no one thought you were that good at a jig;
give him a turn, Biddy--don't spare him--he's able for you and more."
"Ah! but see the Captain, Kathleen; it's he that could give the time
to the music; a'nt he and Mary well met?--you must put more wind into
the pipes, Shamuth, before they're down."
"But if you want to see the dancing, wait till Miss Feemy stands
up--it's she that can dance; you'll stand up with the Captain, Miss
Feemy, won't you?"
"Indeed I will, Corney, if he asks me."
"Axes you! ah, there's little doubt of that; it's he that's ready and
willing to ax you, now and always."
"Ah! Mr. McGovery, shure man, you're not bait yet! you wouldn't give
in to Biddy that soon?"
Poor Denis was giving signs of having had enough of the amusement.
There was a tolerably large fire on the hearth, near which he had
been destined to perform his gyrations--which, if not very graceful,
had, at any rate, been sufficiently active; and the exertion, heat,
and dust were showing plainly on his shining countenance.
"Ah! Mr. McGovery," panted Biddy, "shure you're not down yet, and I
only jist begun!"
"Indeed, then, Biddy, I am, and quite enough I've had, too, for one
while. Here, Corney, come and take my place;" and Denis deposited a
penny in a little wooden dish by the piper's side.
"By dad, Denis," said Corney, "you'll sleep to-night, any ways--to
look at you."
"That's jist what he won't, then; for it'll be morning before he's in
bed, and Mary'll have too much to say to him, when he is there, to
let him sleep."
"Never mind, boys; do you dance, and I'll get myself a dhrink, for
I'm choked with the dust;--and here's Mr. Thady. Why, Mr. Thady, why
didn't you come in time for the supper, then?"
Just as Denis McGovery gave over dancing, Thady entered the house,
having anything but a wedding countenance. He had been, since the
time we parted from him after his interview with Keegan, lying in the
stable, smoking. He had eaten nothing, but had remained meditating
over the different things which conspired to make his heart sad.
His father's state--the impossibility of carrying on the war any
longer against the enmity of Flannelly and Keegan--his own forlorn
prospects--the insult and blow he had just received from the
overbearing, heartless lawyer--but, above all, Feemy's condition, and
his fears respecting her, were too much for him to bear. After his
sister and Captain Ussher had left Ballycloran, he had gone up to the
house and had swallowed a couple of glasses of raw whiskey, to drive,
as he said to himself, the sorrow out of his heart; and he had now
come down to seek the friends whom Brady had recommended to him,
and determined, at whatever cost, to revenge himself, by their aid,
against Keegan, for the insults he had heaped upon him, and against
Ussher for the name which, he believed, he had put upon his sister.
It was with these feelings and determinations that Thady had come
down to McGovery's wedding; and, as he entered the room, Ussher and
Feemy were just standing up to dance.