It was now the 25th of October, just six days from All-Hallow Eve.
Mick would ask a few of the neighbors to burn nuts and eat apples, and
then, perhaps, he might find out how the wind blew.
"Tom," said he to his son, "I believe this is a good year for nuts."
"Well, father, I met a couple of chaps ere yesterday with their
pockets full of fine brown shellers, coming from Clonard Wood."
"I dare say they are not all gone yet, Tom; an' I wish you would set
them to get us a few pockets full, and we would ask a few of the
neighbors here to burn them on All-Hallow Eve."
"That's easy done, father; I can get three or four quarts by to-morrow
night. Those two very chaps would be glad to earn a few pence for
them; they wanted me to buy what they had; and if I knew your
intentions at the time, I should have done so; but it's not too late.
Who do you intend to ask, father?"
"Why, old Cavana and his daughter, of course, and the Mulveys; in
short, you know, all the neighbors. I won't leave any of them out,
Tom. The Cavanas, you know, are all as wan as ourselves, livin' at the
doore with us; and they're much like us too, Tom, in many respects.
Old Ned is rich, an' has but one child--a very fine girl. I'm old, an'
as rich as what Ned is, and I have but one child; I'll say though
you're to the fore, Tom--a very fine young man."
Old Mick paused. He wanted to see if his son's intelligence was on the
alert. It must have been very dull indeed had it failed to perceive
what his father was driving at; but he was silent.
"That Winny Cavana is a very fine girl, Tom," he continued; "and I
often wonder that a handsome young fellow like you doesn't make more
of her. She'll have six hundred pounds fortune, as round as a hoop;
beside, whoever gets her will fall in for that farm at her
father's death. There's ninety-nine years of it, Tom, just like our
own."
"She's a conceited proud piece of goods, father; and I suspect she
would rather give her six hundred pounds to some _skauhawn_ than to a
man of substance like me."
"Maybe not now. Did you ever thry?"
"No, father, I never did. People don't often hold their face up to the
hail."
"_Na-bockleish_, Tom, she'd do a grate dale for her father, for you
know she must owe everything to him; an' if she vexes him he can cut
her out of her six hundred pounds, and lave the interest in his farm
to any one he likes; and I know what he thinks about you, Tom."
"Ay, and he's so fond of that one that she can twist him round her
finger. Wait now, father, until you see if I'm not up to every twist
and turn of the pair of them."
"But you never seem to spake to her or mind her at all, Tom; and I
know, when I was your age, I always found that the girls liked the man
best that looked afther them most. I'm purty sure too, Tom, that
there's no one afore you there."
"I'm not so sure of that, father. But I'll tell you what it is: I have
not been either blind or idle on what you are talking about; but up to
this moment she seems to scorn me, father; there's the truth for you.
And as for there being no one before me, all I can say is that she
manages, somehow or other, to come out of the chapel-door every Sunday
at the same moment with that whelp, Edward Lennon, from the mountain;
_Emon-a-knock_, as they call him, and as I have heard her call him
herself. Rathcash chapel is not in his parish at all, and I don't know
what brings him there."
"Is it that poor penniless pauper, depending on his day's labor? Ah,
Tom, she's too proud for that."
"Yes, that very fellow; and there's no getting a word with her where
he is."
"Well, Tom, all I can say is this, an' it's to my own son I'm sayin'
it--that if you let that fellow pick up that fine girl with her six
hundred pounds and fall into that rich farm, an' you livin' at the
doore with her, you're not worth staggering-bob broth, with all your
book-larnin' an' good looks, to say nothin' of your manners, Tom
avic." And he left him, saying to himself, "He may put that in his
pocket to balance his knife."
Thus ended what old Murdock commenced as a feeler, but which became
very plain speaking in the end. But the All-Hallow Eve party was to
come off all the same.
A word or two now of comparison, or perhaps, more properly speaking,
of contrast, between these two aspirants to Winny Cavana's favor,
though young Lennon was still more hopeless than the other, from his
position.
Thomas Murdock was more conspicuous for the manliness of his person
than for the beauties of his mind or the amiability of his
disposition. Although manifestly well-looking in a group, take him
singly, and he could not be called very handsome. There was a
suspicious fidgetiness about his green-spotted eyes, as if he feared
you could read his thoughts; and at times, if vexed or opposed, a dark
scowl upon his heavy brow indicated that these thoughts were not
always amiable. This unpleasing peculiarity of expression marred the
good looks which the shape of his face and the fit of his curly black
whiskers unquestionably gave him. In form he was fully six feet high,
and beautifully made. At nineteen years of age he had mastered not
only all the learning which could be attained at a neighboring
national school, but had actually mastered the master himself in more
ways than one, and was considered by the eighty-four youngsters whom
he had outstripped as a prodigy of valor as well as learning. But Tom
turned his schooling to a bad account; it was too superficial, and
served more to set his head astray than to correct his heart; and
there were some respectable persons in the neighborhood who were
not free from doubts that he had already become a parish-patriot, and
joined the Ribbon Society. He was high and overbearing toward his
equals, harsh and unkind to his inferiors, while he was cringing and
sycophantic toward his superiors. There was nothing manly or
straightforward, nothing ingenuous or affectionate, about him. In
fact, if ever a man's temper and disposition justified the opinion
that he had "the two ways" in him, they were those of Thomas Murdock.
His father was a rich farmer, whose land joined that of old Ned
Cavana, of whom he was a contemporary in years, and with whom he had
kept pace in industry and wealth.
Thomas Murdock was an only son, as Winny Cavana was an only daughter,
and the two old men were of the same mind now as regarded the future
lot of their children.
A few words now of Edward Lennon, and we can get on.
He was the eldest of five in the family. They lived upon the
mountain-side in the parish of Shanvilla, about two "_short_ miles" from
the Cavanas and Murdocks. His father and mother were both alive. They
were respectable so far as character and conduct can make people
respectable who are unquestionably poor. Their marriage was what has
been sarcastically, but perhaps not inaptly, called by an English
newspaper a "_potato marriage;_" that is--but no, it will not bear
explanation. The result, however, after many years' struggling, may be
stated. The Lennons had lived, and were still living, in a small
thatched house upon the side of a mountain, with about four acres of
reclaimed ground. It had been reclaimed gradually by the father and
his two sons--for Emon had a younger brother--and they paid little or
no rent for it. The second son and eldest daughter were now at
service, "doin' for theirselves;" and those at home consisted of the
father, the mother, the eldest son, and two younger daughters, mere
children. For the house and garden they paid a small rent, which "a
slip of a pig" was always ready to realize in sufficient time; while a
couple of goats, staggering through the furze, yoked together by the
necks, gave milk to the family.
Edward, though not so well-looking as to the actual cut of his
features, nor so tall by an inch and a half, as our friend Murdock,
was far more agreeable to look upon. There was a confident good-nature
in his countenance which assured you of its reality, and the honesty
of his heart. His figure, from his well-shaped head, which was
beautifully set upon his shoulders, to his small, well-turned feet,
was faultless. In disposition and character young Lennon was a full
distance before the man to whom he was a secret rival, while in talent
and learning he had nothing to fear by a comparison. He had commenced
his education when a mere gossoon at a poor-school with "his turf an'
his read-a-ma-daisy," and as he progressed from A-b-e-l, bel, a man's
name; A-b-l-e, ble, Able, powerful, strong, until finally he could
spell Antitrinitarian pat, he then cut the concern, and was promoted
by his parish-priest--"of whom more anon," as they say--to Rathcash
national school, where he soon stood in the class beside Tom Murdock,
and ere a week had passed he "took him down a peg." This, added to his
supposed presumptuous thoughts in the quarter which Tom had considered
almost his exclusive right, sowed the seed of hatred in Murdock's
heart against Lennon, which one day might bear a heavy crop.
That young Lennon was devotedly but secretly attached to Winny Cavana
there was no doubt whatever in his own mind, and there were few who
did not agree with him, although he had "never told his love;" and as
we Irish have leave to say, there was still less that his love was
more disinterested than that of his richer rival. There was another
point upon which there was still less doubt than either, and that was
that Winny Cavana's heart secretly leaned to _"Emon-a-knock,"_ as
young Lennon was familiarly called by all those who knew and
loved him. One exception existed to this cordial recognition of Emon's
good qualities, and that was, as may be anticipated, by Thomas
Murdock, who always called him "_that_ Lennon," and on one occasion,
as we have seen, substituted the word "whelp."
Winny, however, kept her secret in this matter to herself. She knew
her father would go "tanterin' tearin' mad, if he suspected such a
thing." She conscientiously endeavored to hide her preference from
young Lennon himself, knowing that it would only get them both into
trouble. Beside, he had never (yet) shown a decided preference for her
above Kate Mulvey. Whether she succeeded in her endeavors is another
question; women seldom fail where they are in earnest.
It is not considered amongst the class of Irish to which our _dramatis
persona_ belong as any undue familiarity, upon even a very short
acquaintance, for the young persons of both the sexes to call each
other by their Christian names. It is the admitted custom of the
country, and Winny Cavana, rich and proud as she was, made no
exception to the general rule. She even went further, and sometimes
called young Lennon by his pet name. As regarded Tom Murdock, although
she could have wished it otherwise, she would not make herself
particular by acting differently. The first three letters of his name,
coupled with the scowl she had more than once detected on his
countenance, sounded unpleasantly upon her ear, Mur-dock. She always
thought people were going to say murder before the "dock" was out. She
never could think well of him; and although she called him Tom, it was
more to be in keeping with the habit of the country, and as a refuge
from the other name, than from a friendly feeling.
These were the materials upon which the two old men had to work, to
bring about a union of their landed interests and their only children.