North, South and over the Sea Part 38

"Sure, I am not afeard of him, Mike. I am more afeard of his hurting himself nor me; but I'm goin' now, anyway, an' I am glad ye know the truth, grandfather, so that ye needn't be botherin' me about Mr.

Quinn."

She went away, moving slowly and carrying her curly head very high.

Peter watched her till she was out of sight and hearing, and then turned to Mike.

"Now then," he cried, "we'll have this matter settled. You'll go out o' this, me lad, an' so will your father an' mother. They're owin' me a year's rent an' more."

"Didn't I tell ye I would work it off, little by little?" said Mike, who had suddenly become very pale. "It was me poor mother bein' sick last year that thrun us back, an' you said ye would have patience wid us."

"Then ye had a right to behave better," returned Rorke. "How dar' ye go make up to my granddaughter, you young villain? I'd have ye to know that Miss Rorke is not for the likes of you."

All poor Mike's pride and valour seemed to have deserted him since Peter's threat.

"Sure, Roseen an' me was always fond of one another," he said pleadingly. "I couldn't remember a time when we wasn't. Her an' me was ould playfellows, and she used to be as much at our place as at home."

"It won't be your place much longer," retorted Peter curtly. "Out o'

this ye may all go, bag an' baggage, the whole pack of yous."

"Me father hasn't stirred out o' that chimley corner for years an'

years," urged Mike; "an' me mother, G.o.d help her! she's near as bad as him wid the weakness an' the terrible cough she has this while back.

It 'ud be the death of her out an' out--sure, where could the cratur's go?"

"Let them go to the poor-house, unless you can make a livin' for them somewhere out o' this. I'll not have ye here, mind. Ye needn't come an' work to-morrow, an' ye may tell your father an' mother to be gettin' ready to march, for they'll be havin' the bailiff in on them as soon as I can get him."

A deep flush replaced Mike's pallor and a s.h.i.+ver of indignation shook him from head to foot.

"Mr. Rorke," he cried, "ye don't mane what ye are sayin'. Ye'd never have the heart to turn them two ould craturs out on the roadside to die?"

"Wouldn't I though?" retorted Peter; "ye'll soon find out for yourselves whether I would or not."

He turned and was hastening homewards, when Mike called after him. The old man faced him, still sneering.

"This will not bring you luck," cried Mike, his young voice quivering, his face working with emotion, his usually merry eyes ablaze with pa.s.sion. "I tell you it'll bring a curse on you. You'll live to rue the day you turned on us that way--an' maybe it won't be long before ye are sorry."

Peter's only answer was an ironical laugh, and he once more resumed his homeward journey, leaving Mike standing pale and trembling beside the hedge.

Peter entered the house, flushed with triumph, and, calling loudly for Roseen, informed her that he was after sendin' that fine young sweetheart of hers about his business.

"Ye don't mane to say you turned him off!" cried the girl, in dismay.

"The poor fellow, how is he to live at all, him that has his old father and mother to keep as well as himself?"

"His father and mother won't be costing him anything much now, I am thinkin'," explained Peter politely. "That grand ancient family of the Clancys will soon be out o' this place, an' living in the greatest aise and comfort at the country's expense in the poorhouse, me dear."

"What do ye mane at all? Indeed Mike will never let them go there.

He'll work till the two hands drops off of him, but he will conthrive to keep a roof over their heads."

"Will he now?" said Rorke, still laboriously urbane. "I wonder what roof that'll be?"

Roseen looked up quickly, her parted lips suddenly turning white.

"I am thinking," resumed Peter, "he'll have to make haste an' find a place for them, for they'll be out o' the old one soon enough."

"Grandfather!" cried Roseen, "ye're not going to put them out in airnest, are ye? Sure ye'd never have the heart! The poor old couple is dying on their feet as it is. It'll be the death o' them altogether if ye go do that."

"An' a very good thing too," retorted Peter. "We'll be shut o' the whole of them out-an'-out, that way."

"Ye're a regular hard-hearted old Turk," cried Roseen, "that's what ye are! The whole countryside will cry shame on ye! It is outrageous, so it is! 'Pon me word, ye're as bad as Cromwell."

"Ah, ha," said Peter, "I'll tell ye what it is, Roseen, the more impidence ye give me, the more I'll do on the Clancys. _Now_! Ye bold little lump! How dar' ye go speak to me that way? I'll teach ye to be carryin' on wid the likes o' that. Not another word out o' ye now, or I'll walk down to the Clancys this minute an' throw them out on the road before dark."

Roseen's fury was replaced by terror.

"Och, grandfather, sure ye wouldn't do the like! I ax your pardon for spakin' disrespectful to ye. Sure ye're not in airnest? Ye won't raly put the poor old man and his wife there out o' their little place?

They won't be troublin' you long. A-a-h, grandfather, me own dear grandfather, do lave them where they are an' I'll promise faithful never to give you a cra.s.s word again."

But neither the coaxing tone nor the touch of the soft clinging arms, which the girl now wound about him, moved Peter's heart.

"Out o' this them Clancys goes, bag and baggage," he a.s.serted; "if ye'd wanted me to let them stay where they were, an' them owin' me so much rent an' all, ye ought to have behaved different. But on account of this impident young sckamer ye go tellin' me ye won't marry Mr.

Quinn, the man I chose for ye, an' I catch ye sweetheartin' an'

carryin' on wid that ploughboy there, demanin' yourself altogether.

Sure n.o.body could be expected to stand that. I won't stand it anyhow.

Out they go, and off the whole o' them may march."

Roseen was silent for a moment, apparently battling with herself, and at last she said in a very shaky voice:

"It's a poor case if it's me that's bringin' this throuble on them all. Grandfather, if--if I was to give ye me word that I wouldn't spake to Mike in the way of courtin' agin--"

"Wisha!" cried Peter sarcastically, "much good that would do. I know the way ye would keep your promise, me lady; no, no, I'll make sure of this job."

"Oh, grandfather! I'll promise, I promise faithful never so much as to look at Mike!"

But Peter was inexorable; he had been wounded in his tenderest point, bearded by these two impudent young people--set at nought. His pride, moreover, could not brook the proximity of the audacious youth who had dared to aspire to the hand of his granddaughter, and of the parents who had, as he had been reminded that day, ventured to befriend her when he himself had cast her off.

He felt that he must be rid of them without delay. Poor Roseen crept upstairs and sat disconsolately at the window, watching the corner of the haggard where she expected before long to see Mike appear. It had been the custom of the young pair to meet for a few moments every evening, under the shadow of the big hayrick and there converse before Mike returned home. He would surely come, if only to say good-bye.

Poor fellow, what would he do? Whither would he go? Big tears rolled down Roseen's cheeks as she thought of his desperate plight.

As she sat watching and waiting--for she dared not venture out too soon lest her grandfather's suspicions should be aroused--a sudden rattling and fumbling at the lock of her own door made her turn round.

The door was opened for a moment, a lean hand thrust into the room, the key which had been on the inner side was withdrawn suddenly; then the door quickly closed again, and before Roseen thoroughly realised what had happened, old Peter locked her in.

"Good night, me dear!" he cried ironically through the keyhole; "I think it's as well for ye to stay quiet this evenin' an' not be takin'

any more walks, or tirin' or excitin' yourself. Pleasant dreams, dear."

Down the stairs he went, chuckling to himself and leaving the girl furious. She banged at the door with all her might and main, but the lock held fast and no one came to her rescue; then she rushed to the window and threw it open; but the distance from the ground was too great for even a desperate maiden to jump, and she wrung her hands frantically. Mike would think she had given him up; he would fancy her grandfather had got round her, and that she had deserted him in his humiliation and distress. Was there n.o.body who would help her, no one by whom she could convey at least a message?

As if in answer to her agonised prayer, certain shuffling steps were presently heard below, and old Judy's white sunbonnet appeared round the corner of the house. Roseen clapped her hands: here was one who would do her bidding, a faithful hench-woman who could be trusted to carry out her orders in defiance of old Peter's commands.

"Judy!" cried the girl softly, bending out of the window.