The next morning O'Rorke and his wife! waited upon Mr. Brookleigh to
state, that in their opinion it would be more judicious to liberate
Nell M'Collum, provided he kept a strict watch upon all her motions.
The magistrate instantly admitted both the force and ingenuity of the
thought; and after having appointed three persons to the task of keeping
her under surveillance, he set her at large.
This was all judicious and prudent; but in the mean time, common rumor,
having first published the fact of young Lamh Laudher's cowardice, found
it an easy task to associate his name with the robbery. His very father,
after their last conference with the magistrate, doubted him; his
friends, in the most sympathetic terms, expressed their conviction of
his guilt, and the natural consequence resulting from this was, that he
found himself expelled from his paternal roof, and absolutely put out
of caste. The tide of ill-fame, in fact, set in so strongly against
him, that Ellen, startled as she had been by his threat of taking to
the highway, doubted him. The poor young man, in truth, led a miserable
life. Nanse M'Collum had not been found, and the unfavorable rumor was
still at its height, when one morning the town arose and found the walls
and streets placarded with what was in those days known as the fatal
challenge of the DEAD BOXER!
This method of intimating his arrival had always been peculiar to that
individual, who was a man of color. No person ever discovered the
means by which he placarded his dreadful challenge. In an age of
gross superstition, numerous were the rumors and opinions promulgated
concerning this circumstance. The general impression was, that an evil
spirit attended him, by whose agency his advertisements were put up at
night; A law, it is said, then existed, that when a pugilist arrived in
any town, He might claim the right to receive the sum of fifty guineas,
provided no man in the town could be found to accept his challenge
within a given period. A champion, if tradition be true, had the
privilege of fixing only the place, not the mode and regulations of
battle. Accordingly the scene of contest uniformly selected by the Dead
Boxer was the church-yard of the town, beside a new made grave, dug at
his expense. The epithet of the Dead Boxer had been given to him, in
consequence of a certain fatal stroke by which he had been able to kill
every antagonist who dared to meet him; precisely on the same principle
that we call a fatal marksman a dead shot; and the church-yard was
selected, and the grave prepared, in order to denote the fatality
incurred by those who went into a contest with him. He was famous, too,
at athletic sports, but was never known to communicate the secret of
the fatal blow; he also taught the sword exercises, at which he was
considered to be a proficient.
On the morning after his arrival, the town in which we have laid the
scene of this legend felt the usual impulse of an intense curiosity to
see so celebrated a character. The Dead Boxer, however, appeared to be
exceedingly anxious to gratify this natural propensity. He walked
out from the head inn, where he had stopped, attended by his servant,
merely, it would appear, to satisfy them as to the very slight chance
which the stoutest of them had in standing before a man whose blow was
so fatal, and whose frame so prodigiously Herculean.
Twelve o'clock was the hour at which he deemed proper to make his
appearance, and as it happened also to be the market-day of the town,
the crowd which followed him was unprecedented. The old and young, the
hale and feeble of both sexes, all rushed out to see, with feelings of
fear and wonder, the terrible and far-famed Dead Boxer. The report
of his arrival had already spread far and wide into the country,
and persons belonging to every class and rank of life might be seen
hastening on horseback, and more at full speed on foot, that they might,
if possible, catch an early glimpse of him. The most sporting
characters among the nobility and gentry of the country, fighting-peers,
fire-eaters, snuff-candle squires, members of the hell-fire and
jockey clubs, gaugers, gentlemen tinners, bluff yeomen, laborers,
cudgel-players, parish pugilists, men of renown within a district of ten
square miles, all jostled each other in hurrying to see, and if possible
to have speech of, the Dead Boxer. Not a word was spoken that day,
except with reference to him, nor a conversation introduced, the topic
of which was not the Dead Boxer. In the town every window was filled
with persons standing to get a view of him; so were the tops of the
houses, the dead walls, and all the cars, gates, and available eminences
within sight of the way along which he went. Having thus perambulated
the town, he returned to the market-cross, which, as we have said, stood
immediately in front of his inn. Here, attended by music, he personally
published his challenge in a deep and sonorous voice, calling upon the
corporation in right of his championship, to produce a man in ten clear
days ready to undertake battle with him as a pugilist, or otherwise to
pay him the sum of fifty guineas out of their own proper exchequer.
Having thus thrown down his gauntlet, the musicians played a dead march,
and there was certainly something wild and fearful in the association
produced by these strains of death and the fatality of encountering
him. This challenge he repeated at the same place and hour during three
successive days, after which he calmly awaited the result.
In the mean time, certain circumstances came to light, which not only
developed many cruel and profligate traits in his disposition, but also
enabled the worthy inhabitants of the town to ascertain several facts
relating to his connections, which in no small degree astonished them.
The candid and modest female whose murder and robbery had been planned
by Nell M'Collum, resided with him as his wife; at least if he did not
acknowledge her as such, no person who had an opportunity of witnessing
her mild and gentle deportment, ever for a moment conceived her capable
of living with him in any other character, his conduct to her, however,
was brutal in the extreme, nor was his open and unmanly cruelty lessened
by the misfortune of her having lost the money which he had accumulated.
With Nell M'Collum he was also acquainted, for he had given orders that
she should be admitted to him whenever she deemed it necessary. Nell,
though now at large, found her motions watched with a vigilance which no
ingenuity on her part, could baffle. She knew this, and was resolved by
caution to overreach those who dogged her so closely. Her intimacy with
the Dead Boxer threw a shade of still deeper mystery around her own
character and his. Both were supposed to be capable of entering into
evil communion with supernatural beings, and both, of course, were
looked upon with fear and hatred, modified, to be sure, by the
peculiarity of their respective situations.
Let not our readers, however, suppose that young Lamh Laudher's disgrace
was altogether lost in the wide-spread fame of the Dead Boxer. His high
reputation for generous and manly feeling had given him too strong a
hold upon the hearts of all who know him, to be at once discarded by
them from public conversation as an indifferent person. His conduct
filled them with wonder, it is true; but although the general tone of
feeling respecting the robbery was decidedly in his favor, yet there
still existed among the public, particularly in the faction that was
hostile to him, enough of doubt, openly expressed, to render it a duty
to avoid him; particularly when this formidable suspicion was joined to
the notorious fact of his cowardice in the rencounter with Meehaul Neil.
Both subjects were therefore discussed with probably an equal interest;
but it is quite certain that the rumor of Lamh Laudher's cowardice would
alone have occasioned him, under the peculiar circumstances which drew
it forth, to be avoided and branded with contumely. There was, in
fact, then in existence among the rival factions in Ireland much of the
military sense of honor which characterizes the British army at this
day; nor is this spirit even yet wholly exploded, from our humble
countrymen. Poor Lamh Laudher was, therefore, an exile from his father's
house, repulsed and avoided by all who had formerly been intimate with
him.
There was another individual, however, who deeply sympathized in all he
felt, because she knew that for her sake it had been incurred; we allude
to Ellen Neil. Since the night of their last interview, she, too, had
been scrupulously watched by her relations. But what vigilance can
surpass the ingenuity of love? Although her former treacherous confidant
had absconded, yet the incident of the Dead Boxer's arrival had been the
means of supplying her with a friend, into whose bosom she felt that she
could pour out all the anxieties of her heart. This was no other than
the Dead Boxer's wife; and there was this peculiarity in the interest
which she took in Ellen's distress, that it was only a return of
sympathy which Ellen felt in the unhappy woman's sufferings. The conduct
of her husband was indefensible; for while he treated her with shameful
barbarity, it was evident that his bad passions and his judgment were at
variance, with respect to the estimate which he formed of her character.
In her honesty he placed every confidence, and permitted her to manage
his money and regulate his expenses; but this was merely because her
frugality and economic habits gratified his parsimony, and fostered one
of his strongest passions, which was avarice. There was something about
this amiable creature that won powerfully upon the affections of Ellen
Neil; and in entrusting her with the secret of her love, she she felt
assured that she had not misplaced it. Their private conversations,
therefore, were frequent, and their communications, unreserved on both
sides, so far as woman can bestow confidence and friendship on the
subject of her affections or her duty. This intimacy did not long escape
the prying eyes of Nell M'Collum, who soon took means to avail herself
of it for purposes which will shortly become evident.
It was about the sixth evening after the day on which the Dead Boxer had
published his challenge, that, having noticed Nell from a window as she
passed the inn, he dispatched a waiter with a message that she should be
sent up to him. Previous to this the hag had been several times with
his wife, on whom she laid serious injunctions never to disclose to her
husband the relationship between them. The woman had never done so, for
in fact the acknowledgement of Nell, as her mother, would have been
to, any female whose feelings had not been made callous by the world, a
painful and distressing task. Nell was the more anxious on this point,
as she feared that such a disclosure would have frustrated her own
designs.
“Well, granny,” said he, when Nell entered, “any word of the money?”
Nell cautiously shut the door, and stood immediately fronting him, her
hand at some distance from her side, supported by her staff, and her
gray glittering eyes fixed upon him with that malicious look which she
never could banish from her countenance.
“The money will come,” she replied, “in good time. I've a charm near
ready that'll get a clue to it. I'm watchin' him--and I'm watched
myself--an' Ellen's watched. He has hardly a house to put his head in;
but _nabockish!_ I'll bring you an' him together--ay, _dher manim_, an'
I'll make him give you the first blow; afther that, if you don't give
him one, it's your own fau't.”
“Get the money first, granny. I won't give him the blow till _it_ is
safe.”
“Won't you?” replied the beldame; “ay, _dher Creestha_, will you, whin
you know what. I have to tell you about him an'--an'----”
“And who, granny?”
“_Diououl_, man, but I'm afeard to tell you, for fraid you'd kill me.”
“Tut, Nelly; I'd not strike an Obeah-wo-man,” said he, laughing.
“I suspect foul play between him an'--her.”
“Eh? Fury of hell, no!”
“He's very handsome,” said the other, “an' young--far younger than you
are, by thirteen--”
“Go on--go on,” said the Dead Boxer, interrupting her, and clenching
his fist, whilst his eyes literally glowed like live coals, “go on--I'll
murder him, but not till--yes, I'll murder him at a blow--I will; but
no--not till you secure the money first. If I give him the blow--THE
BOX--I might never get it, granny. A dead man gives back nothing.”
“I suspect,” replied Nell, “_arraghid_--that is the money--is in other
hands. Lord presarve us! but it's a wicked world, blackey.”
“Where is it!” said the Boxer, with a vehemence of manner resembling
that of a man who was ready to sink to perdition for his wealth. “Devil!
and furies! where is it?”
“Where is it?” said the imperturbable Nell; “why, manim a yeah, man,
sure you don't think that I know where it is? I suspect that your
landlord's daughter, his real sweetheart, knows something about it; but
thin, you see, I can prove nothing; I only suspect. We must watch an'
wait. You know she wouldn't prosecute him.”
“We will watch an' wait--but I'll finish him. Tell me, Nell--fury of
hell, woman--can it be possible--no--well--I'll murder him, though;
but can it be possible that she's guilty? eh? She wouldn't prosecute
him--No--no--she would not.”
“She is not worthy of you, blackey. Lord save us! Well, troth, I
remimber whin you wor in Lord S--'s, you were a fine young man of your
color. I did something for the young lord in my way then, an' I used to
say, when I called to see her, that you wor a beauty, barrin' the face.
Sure enough, there was no lie in that. Well, that was before you tuck
to the fightin'; but I'm ravin'. Whisper, man. If you doubt what I'm
sayin', watch the north corner of the orchard about nine to-night, an'
you'll see a meetin' between her an' O'Rorke. God be wid you! I must
go.”
“Stop!” said the Boxer; “don't--but do get a charm for the money.”
“Good-by,” said Nell; “_you_ a heart wid your money! No; _damnho sherry_
on the charm ever I'll get you till you show more spunk. You! My curse
on the money, man, when your disgrace is consarned!”
Nell passed rapidly, and with evident indignation out of the room; nor
could any entreaty on the part of the Dead Boxer induce her to return
and prolong the dialogue.
She had said enough, however, to produce in his bosom torments almost
equal to those of the damned. In several of their preceding dialogues,
she had impressed him with a belief that young Lamh Laudher was the
person who had robbed his wife; and now to the hatred that originated in
a spirit of avarice, she added the deep and deadly one of jealousy. On
the other hand, the Dead Boxer had, in fact, begun to feel the influence
of Ellen Neil's beauty; and perhaps nothing would have given him greater
satisfaction than the removal of a woman whom he no longer loved, except
for those virtues which enabled him to accumulate money. And now, too,
had he an equal interest in the removal of his double rival, whom,
besides, he considered the spoliator of his hoarded property. The
loss of this money certainly stung him to the soul, and caused his
unfortunate wife to suffer a tenfold degree of persecution and misery.
When to this we add his sudden passion for Ellen Neil, we may easily
conceive what she must have endured. Nell, at all events, felt satisfied
that she had shaped the strong passions of her savage dupe in the way
best calculated to gratify that undying spirit of vengeance which she
had so long nurtured against the family of Lamh Laudher. The Dead Boxer,
too, was determined to prosecute his amour with Ellen Neil, not more to
gratify his lawless affection for her than his twofold hatred of Lamh
Laudher.
At length nine o'clock arrived, and the scene must change to the
northern part of Sheemus Neil's orchard. The Dead Boxer threw a cloak
around him, and issuing through the back door of the inn, entered the
garden, which was separated from the orchard only by a low clipped hedge
of young whitethorn, in the middle of which stood of a small gate. In a
moment he was in the orchard, and from behind its low wall he perceived
a female proceeding to the north side muffled like himself in a cloak,
which he immediately recognized to be that of his wife. His teeth became
locked together with the most deadly resentment; his features twitched
with the convulsive spasms of rage, and his nostrils were distended
as if his victims stood already within his grasp. He instantly threw
himself over the wall, and nothing but the crashing weight of his tread
could have saved the lives of the two unsuspecting persons before him.
Startled, however, by the noise of his footsteps, Lamh Laudher turned
round to observe who it was that followed them, and immediately the
massy and colossal black now stripped of his cloak--for he had thrown it
aside--stood in their presence. The female instinctively drew the cloak
round her face, and Lamh Laudher was about to ask why he followed them,
when the Boxer approached him in an attitude of assault.
With a calmness almost unparalleled under the circumstances, Lamh
Laudher desired the female by no means to cling to him.
“If you do,” said he, “I am murdered where I stand.”
“No,” she shrieked, “you shall not. Stand back, man, stand back, if you
murder him I will take care you shall suffer for it. Stand back. Lamh
Laudher never injured you.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the Boxer, in reply; “why, what is this! Who have we
here?”
Ellen, for it was she, had already thrown back the cloak from her
features, and stepped forward between them.
“Well, I am glad it is you,” said the black, “and so may he. Come, I
shall conduct you home.”
He caught her arm as he spoke, and drew her over to his side like an
infant.
“Come, my pretty girl, come; I will treat you tenderly, and all I shall
ask is a kiss in return. Here, young fellow,” said he to Lamh Laudher,
with a sense of bitter triumph, “I will show you that one black kiss is
worth two white ones.”
Heavy, hard, and energetic was the blow which the Dead Boxer received
upon the temple, as the reply of Lamh Laudher, and dead was the crash
of his tremendous body on the earth. Ellen looked around her with
amazement.
“Come,” said she, seizing her lover's arm, and dragging him onward:
“gracious heavens! I hope you haven't killed him. Come, John, the time
is short, and we must make the most of it. That villain, as I tould you
before, is a villain. Oh! if you knew it! John, I have been the manes of
your disgrace and suffering, but I am willing to do what I can to remedy
that. In your disgrace, Ellen will be ready, in four days from this,
to become your wife. John, come to meet me no more. I will send that
villain's innocent wife to your aunt Alley's, where you now live'. I
didn't expect to see you myself; but I got an opportunity, and besides
she was too unwell to bring my message, which was to let you know what I
now tell you.”
John, ere he replied, looked behind him at the Dead Boxer, and appeared
as if struck with some sudden thought.
“He is movin',” said he, “an' on this night I don't wish to meet him
again; but--yes, Ellen, yes--God bless you for the words you've said;
but how could you for one minute doubt me about the robbery?”
“I did not, John--I did not; and if I did, think of your own words at
our meetin' in the Quarry; it was a small suspicion, though--no more.
No, no; at heart I never doubted you.”
“Ellen,” said John, “hear me. You never will become my wife till my
disgrace is wiped away. I love you too well ever to see you blush for
your husband. My mind's made up--so say no more. Ay, an' I tell you that
to live three months in this state would break my heart.”
“Poor John!” she exclaimed, as they separated, and the words were
followed by a gush of tears, “I know that there is not one of them, in
either of the factions, so noble in heart and thought as you are.”
“Ill prove that soon, Ellen; but never till my name is fair and clear,
an' without spot, can you be my wife. Good night, dearest; in every
thing but that I'll be guided by you.”
They then separated, and immediately the Dead Boxer, like a drunken man,
went tottering, rather crest-fallen, towards the inn. On reaching his
own room, his rage appeared quite ungovernable; he stormed, stamped, and
raved on reflecting that any one was able to knock him down. He called
for brandy and water, with a curse to the waiter, swore deeply between
every sip, and, ultimately dispatched another messenger for Nell
M'Collum.
“That Obeah woman's playing on me,” he exclaimed; “because my face is
black, she thinks me a fool. Furies! I neither know what she is, nor who
the other is. But I will know.”
“Don't be too sure of that,” replied Nell, gliding into the
apartment--“You can say little, blackey, or think little, avourneen,
that I'll not know. As to who she is, you needn't ax--she won't be long
troublin' you; an' in regard to myself, I'm what you see me. Arra, _dher
ma chuirp_, man alive, I could lave you in one night that a boy in his
first _breestha_ (small clothes) could bate the marrow out of you.”
“Where did you come from now, granny?”
“From her room; she's sick--that was what prevented her from meetin'
Lamh Laudher.”
“Granny, do you know who she is? I'm tired of her--sick of her.”
“You know enough about her to satisfy you. Wasn't she a beautiful
creature when Lady S------ tuck her into the family, an' reared her till
she was fit to wait upon herself. Warn't you then sarvant to the ould
lord, an' didn't I make her marry you, something against her will, too;
but she did it to plase me. That was before 'buildin' churches' druv you
out of the family, an' made you take to the fightin' trade.”
“Granny, you must bring this young fellow across me. Blood! woman, do
you know what he did? He knocked me down, granny--struck me senseless!
Fury of hell! Me! Only for attempting to kiss his sweetheart!”
“Ha!” said Nell, bitterly, “keep that to yourself, for heaven's sake!
_Dher ma chuirp_, man, if it was known, his name would be higher up than
ever. Be my sowl, any how, that was the Lamh Laudher blow, my boy, an'
what that is, is well known. The devil curse him for it!”
“Granny, you must assist me in three things. Find a clue to the
money--bring this fellow in my way, as you promised--and help me with
the landlord's daughter.”
“Is there nothin' else?”
“What?”
“She's sick.”
“Well, let her die, then; I don't care.”
“In the other things I will help you,” said Nell; “but you must clear
your own way there. I can do every thing but that. I have a son myself,
an' my hands is tied against blood till I find him out. I could like to
see some people withered, but I can't kill.”
“Well, except her case, we understand one another. Good night, then.”
“You must work that for yourself. Good night.”