When the spectators saw and heard what had occurred, their acclamations
rose to the sky; cheer after cheer pealed from the graveyard over a
wide circuit of the country. With a wild luxury of triumph they seized
O'Rorke, placed him on their shoulders, and bore him in triumph through
every street in the town. All kinds of mad but good-humored excesses
were committed. The public houses were filled with those who had
witnessed the fight, songs were sung, healths were drank, and blows
given. The streets, during the remainder of the day, were paraded by
groups of his townsmen belonging to both factions, who on that occasion
buried their mutual animosity in exultation for his victory.
The worthy burghers of the corporation, who had been both frightened
and disgusted at the dark display made by the Dead Boxer previous to
the tight, put his body in the coffin that had been intended for Lamh
Laudher, and without any scruple, took it up, and went in procession
with the black flag before them, the death bell again tolling, and the
musicians playing the dead march, until they deposited his body in the
inn.
After Lamh Laudher had been chaired by the people, and borne throughout
every nook of the town, he begged them to permit him to go home. With a
fresh volley of shouts and hurras they proceeded, still bearing him in
triumph towards his father's house, where they left him, after a last
and deafening round of cheers. Our readers can easily fancy the pride of
his parents and friends on receiving him.
“Father,” said he, “my name's' cleared. I hope I have the Lamh Laudher
blood in me still. Mother, you never doubted me, but you wor forced to
give way.”
“My son, my son,” said the father, embracing him, “my noble boy! There
never was one of your name like you. You're the flower of us all!”
His mother wept with joy and pressed him repeatedly to her heart;
and all his relations were as profuse as they were sincere in their
congratulations.
“One thing troubles us,” observed his parents, “what will become of his
wife? John dear,” said his mother, “my heart aches for her.”
“God knows and so does mine,” exclaimed the father; “there is goodness
about her.”
“She is freed from a tyrant and a savage,” replied their son, “for he
was both, and she ought to be thankful that she's rid of him. But you
don't know that there was an attempt made on my life this mornin'.”
On hearing this, they were all mute with astonishment.
“In the name of heaven how, John?” they inquired with one voice.
[Illustration: PAGE 110-- He made a stab at my neck]
“A red-haired man came to my aunt's,” he continued, “early this mornin',
an' said if I wanted to hear something for my good, I would follow him.
I did so, an' I observed that he eyed me closely as we went along. We
took the way that turns up the Quarry, an' afther gettin' into one of
the little fir groves off the road, he made a stab at my neck, as I
stooped to tie my shoe that happened to be loose. As God would have it,
he only tore the skin above my forehead. I pursued the villain on the
spot, but he disappeared among the trees, as if the earth had swallowed
him. I then went into Darby Kavanagh's, where I got my breakfast; an'
as I was afraid that you might by pure force prevent me from meetin' the
black, I didn't stir out of it till the proper time came.”
This startling incident occasioned much discussion among his friends,
who of course were ignorant alike of the person who had attempted his
assassination, and of the motives which could have impelled him to such
a crime. Several opinions were advanced upon the circumstance, but as
it had failed, his triumph over the Dead Boxer, as unexpected as it was
complete, soon superseded it, and many a health was given “to the best
man that ever sprung from the blood of the Lamh Laudhers!” for so
they termed him, and well had he earned the epithet. At this moment an
incident occurred which considerably subdued their enjoyment. Breen, the
constable, came to inform them that Nell McCollum, now weltering in her
blood, and at the point of death, desired instantly to see them.
Our readers have been, no doubt, somewhat surprised at the sudden
disappearance of Nell. This artful and vindictive woman had, as we have
stated, been closely dogged through all her turnings and windings, by
the emissaries of Mr. Brookleigh. For this haunt where she was in the
habit of meeting her private friends. The preparations, however, for the
approaching fight, and the tumult it excited in the town, afforded her
an opportunity of giving her spies the slip. She went, on the evening
before the battle, to a small dark cabin in one of the most densely
inhabited parts of the town, where, secure in their privacy, she found
Nanse M'Collum, who had never left the town since the night of the
robbery, together with the man called Rody, and another hardened ruffian
with red hair.
“_Dher ma chuirp_,” said she, without even a word of precious
salutation, “but I'll,lay my life that Lamh Laudher bates the black. In
that case he'd be higher up wid the town than ever. He knocked him down
last night.”
“Well,” said Rody, “an' what if he does? I would feel rather satisfied
at that circumstance. I served the black dog for five years, and a more
infernal tyrant never existed, nor a milder or more amiable woman than
his wife. Now that you have his money, the sooner the devil gets himself
the better.”
“To the black _diouol_ wid yourself an' your Englified _gosther_,”
returned Nell indignantly; “his wife! _Damno' orth_, don't make my blood
boil by speaking a word in her favor. If Lamh Laudher comes off best,
all I've struv for is knocked on the head. _Dher Chiernah_, I'll crush
the sowl of his father or I'll not die happy.”
“Nell, you're bittherer than soot, and blacker too,” observed Rody.
“Am I?” said Nell, “an' is it from the good crathur that was ready, the
other night, to murdher the mild innocent woman that he spakes so well
of, that we hear sich discoorse?”
“You're mistaken there, Nelly,” replied Body; “I had no intention of
taking away her life, although I believe my worthy comrade here in the
red hair, that I helped out of a certain gaol once upon a time, had no
scruples.”
“No, curse the scruple!” said the other.
“I was in the act of covering her eyes and mouth to prevent her from
either knowing her old servant or making a noise,--but d---- it, I was
bent to save her life that night, rather than take it,” said Rody.
“I know this friend of yours, Rody, but a short time,” observed Nell;
“but if he hasn't more spunk in him than yourself, he's not worth his
feedin'.”
“Show me,” said the miscreant, “what s to be done, life or purse--an'
here's your sort for both.”
“Come, then,” said Nell, “by the night above us, we'll thry your
mettle.”
“Never heed her,” observed Nanse; “aunt, you're too wicked an'
revengeful.”
“Am I?” said the aunt. “I tuck an oath many a year ago, that I'd never
die till I'd put sharp sorrow into Lamh Laudher's sowl. I punished him
through his daughter, I'll now grind the heart in him through his son.”
“An' what do you want to be done inquired the red man.
“Come here, an' I'll tell you that,” said Nell.
A short conversation took place between them, behind a little partition
which divided the kitchen from two small sleeping rooms, containing a
single bed each.
“Now,” said Nell, addressing the whole party, “let us all be ready
to-morrow, while the whole town's preparin' for the fight, to slip away
as well disguised as we can, out of the place; by that time you'll have
your business done, an' your trifle o' money earned;” she directed the
last words to the red-haired stranger.
“You keep me out of this secret?” observed Body.
“It's not worth knowin',” said Nell; “I was only thryin' you, Rody. It's
nothing bad. I'm not so cruel as you think. I wouldn't take the wide
world an' shed blood wid my own hands. I tried it once on Lamh Laudher
More, an' when I thought I killed him hell came into me. No; that I may
go _below_ if I would!”
“But you would get others to do it, if you could,” said Rody.
“I need get nobody to do it for me,” said the crone. “I could wither any
man, woman, or child, off o' the earth, wid one charm, if I wished.”
“Why don't you wither young Lamh Laudher then?” said Rody.
“If they fight to-morrow,” replied Nell; “mind I say if they do--an' I
now tell you they won't--but I say if they do--you'll see he'll go home
in the coffin that's made for him--an' I know how that'll happen. Now at
eleven we'll meet here if we can to-morrow.”
The two men then slunk out, and with great caution proceeded towards
different directions of the town, for Nell had recommended them to keep
as much asunder as possible, least their grouping together might expose
them to notice. Their place of rendezvous was only resorted to on urgent
and necessary occasions.
The next morning, a little after the appointed hour, Nell, Rody, and
Nanse McCollum, were sitting in deliberation upon their future plans of
life, when he of the red hair entered the cabin.
“Well,” said Nell starting up--“what was done? show me?”
The man produced a dagger slightly stained with blood.
“_Damno orrum!_” exclaimed the aged fury, “but you've failed--an' all's
lost if he beats the black.”
“I did fail,” said the miscreant. “Why, woman if that powerful active
fellow had got me in his hands, I'd have tasted the full length of the
dagger myself. The d----l's narrow escape I had.”
“The curse of heaven light on you, for a cowardly dog!” exclaimed Nell,
grinding her teeth with disappointment. “You're a faint-hearted villain.
Give me the dagger.”
“Give me the money,” said the man.
“For what? no, consumin' to the penny; you didn't earn it.”
“I did,” said the fellow, “or at all evints attempted it. Ay, an' I must
have it before I lave this house, an' what is more, you must lug out my
share of the black's prog.”
“You'll get nothing of that,” said Rody; “it was Nell here, not you, who
took it.”
“One hundred of it on the nail, this minnit,” said the man, “or I bid
you farewell, an' then look to yourselves.”
“It's not mine,” said Rody; “if Nell shares it, I have no objection.”
“I'd give the villain the price of a rope first,” she replied.
“Then I am off,” said the fellow, “an' you'll curse your conduct.”
Nell flew between him and the door, and in his struggle to get out,
she grasped at the dagger, but failed in securing it. Rody advanced to
separate them, as did Nanse, but the fellow by a strong effort attempted
to free himself. The three were now upon him, and would have easily
succeeded in preventing his escape had it not occurred to him that by
one blow he might secure the whole sum. This was instantly directed at
Rody, by a back thrust, for he stood behind him. By the rapid change of
their positions, however, the breast of Nell M'Collum received the stab
that was designed for another.
A short violent shriek followed, as she staggered back and fell.
“Staunch the blood,” she exclaimed, “staunch the blood, an' there may be
a chance of life yet.”
The man threw the dagger down, and was in the act of rushing out, when
the door opened, and a posse of constables entered the house. Nell's
face became at once ghastly and horror-stricken, for she found that the
blood could not be staunched, and that, in fact, eternity was about to
open upon her.
“Secure him!” said Nell, pointing to her murderer, “secure him, an' send
quick for Lamh Laudher More. God's hand is in what has happened! Ay,
I raised the blow for him, an' God has sent it to my own heart. Send,
too,” she added, “for the Dead Boxer's wife, an' if you expect heaven,
be quick.”
On receiving Nell's message the old man, his son, wife, and one or two
other friends, immediately hurried to the scene of death, where they
arrived a few minutes after the Dead Boxer's wife.
Nell lay in dreadful agony; her face was now a bluish yellow, her
eye-brows were bent, and her eyes getting dead and vacant.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Andy Hart! Andy Hart! it was the black hour you
brought me from the right way. I was innocent till I met you, an' well
thought of; but what was I ever since? an' what am I now?”
“You never met me,” said the red-haired stranger, “till within the last
fortnight.”
“What do you mean, you unfortunate man?” asked Rody.
“Andy Hart was my name,” said the man, “although I didn't go by it for
some years.”
“Andy Hart!” said Nell, raising herself with a violent jerk, and
screaming, “Andy Hart! Andy Hart! stand over before me. Andy Hart! It is
his father's voice. Oh God! Strip his breast there, an' see if there's a
blood-mark on the left side.”
“I'm beginnin' to fear something dreadful,” said the criminal,
trembling, and getting as pale as death; “there is--there is a
blood-mark on the very spot she mentions--see here.”
“I would know him to be Andy Hart's son, God rest him!” observed Lamh
Laudher More, “any where over the world. Blessed mother of heaven!--down
on your knees, you miserable crature, down on your knees for her pardon!
You've murdhered your unfortunate mother!”
The man gave one loud and fearful yell, and dashed himself on the
floor at his mother's feet, an appalling picture of remorse. The scene,
indeed, was a terrible one. He rolled himself about, tore his hair, and
displayed every symptom of a man in a paroxysm of madness. But among
those present, with the exception of the mother and son, there was not
such a picture of distress and sorrow, as the wife of the Dead Boxer.
She stooped down to raise the stranger up; “Unhappy man,” said she,
“look up, I am your sister!”
“No,” said Nell, “no--no--no. There's more of my guilt. Lamh Laudher
More, I stand forrid, you and your wife. You lost a daughter long ago.
Open your arms and take her back a blameless woman. She's your child
that I robbed you of as one punishment; the other blow that I intended
for you has been struck here. I'm dyin'.”
A long cry of joy burst from the mother and daughter, as they rushed
into each other's arms. Nature, always strongest in pure minds, even
before this denouement, had, indeed, rekindled the mysterious flame of
her own affection in their hearts. The father pressed her to his bosom,
and forgot the terrors of the sound before him, whilst the son embraced
her with a secret consciousness that she was, indeed, his long-lost
sister.
“We couldn't account,” said her parents, “for the way we loved you
the day we met you before the magistrate; every word you said, Alice
darling, went into our hearts wid delight, an' we could hardly ever
think of your voice ever since, that the tears didn't spring to our
eyes. But we never suspected, as how could we, that you were our child.”
She declared that she felt the same mysterious attachment to them, and
to her brother also, from the moment she heard the tones of his voice on
the night the robbery was attempted.
“Nor could I,” said Lamh Laudher Oge, “account for the manner I loved
you.”
Their attention was now directed to Nell, who again spoke.
“Nanse, give her back the money I robbed her of. There was more of my
villainy, but God fought against me, an'--here--. You will find, it
along with her marriage certificate, an' the gospel she had about her
neck, when I kidnapped her, all in my pocket. Where's my son? Still,
still, bad as I am, an' bad as he is, isn't he my child? Amn't I his
mother? put his hand in mine, and let me die as a mother 'ud wish!”
Never could there be a more striking contrast witnessed than that
between the groups then present; nor a more impressive exemplification
of the interposition of Providence to reward the virtuous and punish the
guilty even in this life.
“Lamh Laudher More,” said she, “I once attempted to stab you, only for
preventin' your relation from marryin' a woman that you knew Andy Hart
had ruined. You disfigured my face in your anger too; that an' your
preventing my marriage, an' my character bein' lost, whin it was known
what he refused to marry me for, made me swear an oath of vengeance
against you an' yours. I may now ax your forgiveness, for I neither dare
nor will ax God's.”
“You have mine--you have all our forgiveness,” replied the old man;
“but, Nell, ax God's, for it's His you stand most in need of--ax God's!”
Nell, however, appeared to hear him not.
“Is that your hand in mine, avick?” said she, addressing her son.
“It is--it is,” said the son. “But, mother, I didn't, as I'm to stand
before God, aim the blow at you, but at Rody.”
“Lamh Laudher!” said she, forgetting herself, “I ax your forgive----.”
Her head fell down before she could conclude the sentence, and thus
closed the last moments of Nell M'Collum.
After the lapse of a short interval, in which Lamh Laudher's daughter
received back her money, the certificate, and the gospel, her brother
discovered that Rody was the person who had, through Ellen Neil,
communicated to him the secret that assisted him in vanquishing the
Dead Boxer, a piece of information which saved him from prosecution. The
family now returned home, where they found Meehaul Neil awaiting their
arrival, for the purpose of offering his sister's hand and dowry to
our hero. This offer, we need scarcely say, was accepted with no sullen
spirit. But Lamh Laudher was not so much her inferior in wealth as our
readers may suppose. His affectionate sister divided her money between
him and her parents, with whom she spent the remainder of her days in
peace and tranquility. Our great-grandfather remembered the wedding,
and from him came down to ourselves, as an authentic tradition, the fact
that it was an unrivalled one, but that it would never have taken place
were it not for the terrible challenge of the Dead Boxer.