Tales and Novels Volume VIII Part 30

_Phil._ Depind on it, it's all lies, Mrs. Rooney, says I, ma'am. No, but _you_ lie, flouris.h.i.+ng Phil, says she. With that every McBride to a man, rises from the table, catching up chairs and stools and toomblers and jugs to revenge Honor and me. Not for your life, boys, don't _let-drive_ ne'er a one of yees, says I--she's a woman, and a widow woman, and only a _scould_ from her birth: so they held their hands; but she giving tongue bitter, 'twas hard for flesh and blood to stand it. Now, for the love of heaven and me, sit down all, and be _quite_ as lambs, and finish your poonch like gentlemen, sir, says I: so saying, I _tuk_ Mrs. Rooney up in my arms tenderly, as I would a bould child--she screeching and screeching like mad:--whereupon her jock caught on the chair, pocket-hole or something, and give one rent from head to _fut_--and that was the tattering of the jock. So we got her to the door, and there she spying her son by ill-luck in the street, directly stretches out her'

arms, and kicking my s.h.i.+ns, plase your honour, till I could not hold her, "Murder! Randal Rooney," cries she, "and will you see your own mother murdered?"

_Randal._ Them were the very words, I acknowledge, she used, which put me past my rason, no doubt.

_Phil._ Then Randal Rooney, being past his rason, turns to all them Roonies that were _in no condition._

_Mr. Carv._ That were, what we in English would call _drunk_, I presume?

_Randal._ Something very near it, plase your honour.

_Phil._ Sitting on the bench outside the door they were, when Randal came up. "Up, Roonies, and at 'em!" cried he; and up, to be sure, they flew, s.h.i.+llelahs and all, like lightning, daling blows on all of us McBrides: but I never lifted a hand; and Randal, I'll do him justice, avoided to lift a hand against me.

_Randal._ And while I live I'll never forget _that_ hour, nor _this_ hour, Phil, and all your generous construction.

_Catty._ (_aside_) Why then it almost softens me; but I won't be made a fool on.

_Mr. Carv._ (_who has been re-considering the examinations_) It appears to me that you, Mr. Philip McBride, did, as the law allows, only _lay hands softly_ upon complainant, Catherine Rooney; and the Rooneys, as it appears, struck, and did strike, the first blow.

_Randal._ I can't deny, plase your honour, we did.

_Mr. Carv._ (_tearing the examinations_) Then, gentlemen--you Roonies--_beaten men_, I cannot possibly take your examinations.

[_When the examinations are torn, the McBRIDES all bow and thank his honour._

_Mr. Carv._ Beaten men! depart in peace.

_The ROONIES sigh and groan, and after turning their hats several times, bow, walk a few steps away, return, and seem loath to depart. CATTY springs forward, holding up her hands joined in a supplicating att.i.tude to Mr. CARVER._

_Randal._ If your honour would be plasing to let her spake now, or she'd burst, may be.

_Mr. Carv._ Speak now, woman, and ever after hold your tongue.

_Catty._ Then I am rasonable now, plase your honour; for I'll put it to the test--see, I'll withdraw my examinations entirely, and I'll recant--and I'll go farther, I'll own I'm wrong--(though I know I'm right)--and I'll beg your pardon, McBrides, if--(but I know I'll not have to beg your pardon either)--but I say I _will_ beg your pardon, McBrides, _if_, mind _if_, you will accept my test, and it fails me.

_Mr. Carv._ Very fair, Mrs. Rooney.

_Old McB._ What is it she's saying?

_Phil._ What test, Mrs. Rooney?

_Randal._ Dear mother, name your test.

_Catty._ Let Honor McBride be summoned, and if she can prove she took no ring, and was not behind the chapel with Randal, nor drinking at Flaherty's with him, the time she was, I give up all.

_Randal._ Agreed, with all the pleasure in life, mother. Oh, may I run for her?

_Old McB._ Not a fut, you sir--go, Phil dear.

_Phil._ That I will, like a lapwing, father.

_Mr. Carv._ Where to, sir--where so precipitate?

_Phil._ Only to fetch my sister.

_Mr. Carv._ Your sister, sir?--then you need not go far: your sister, Honor McBride, is, I have reason to believe, in this house.

_Catty._ So. Under whose protection, I wonder?

_Mr. Carv._ Under the protection of Mrs. Carver, madam, into whose service she was desirous to engage herself; and whose advice--

_Clerk._ Shall I, if you please, sir, call Honor in?

_Mr. Carv._ If you please.

[_A silence.--CATTY stands biting her thumb.--Old McBRIDE leans his chin upon Us hands on his stick, and never stirs, even his eyes.--Young McBRIDE looks out eagerly to the side at which HONOR is expected to enter--RANDAL looking over his shoulder, exclaims--_

There she comes!--Innocence in all her looks.

_Catty._ Oh! that we shall see soon. No making a fool of me.

_Old McB._ My daughter's step--I should know it. (_Aside_) How my old heart bates!

[_Mr. CARVER takes a chair out of the way._

_Catty._ Walk in--walk on, Miss Honor. Oh, to be sure, Miss Honor will have justice.

_Enter HONOR McBRIDE, walking very timidly._

And no need to be ashamed, Miss Honor, until you're found out.

_Mr. Carv._ Silence!

_Old McB._ Thank your honour.

[_Mr. CARVER whispers to his clerk, and directs him while the following speeches go on._

_Catty._ That's a very pretty curtsy, Miss Honor--walk on, pray--all the gentlemen's admiring you--my son Randal beyant all.

_Randal._ Mother, I won't bear--

_Catty._ Can't you find a sate for her, any of yees? Here's a stool--give it her, Randal. (_HONOR sits down._) And I hope it won't prove the stool of repentance, Miss or Madam. Oh, bounce your forehead, Randal--truth must out; you've put it to the test, sir.

_Randal._ I desire no other for her or myself.

[_The father and brother take each a hand of HONOR--support and soothe her._

_Catty._ I'd pity you, Honor, myself, only I know you a McBride--and know you're desaving me, and all present.

_Mr. Carv._ Call that other witness I allude to, clerk, into our presence without delay.