The Kellys and the O'Kellys Part 10

[FOOTNOTE 14: pis aller--(French) last resort]

Much satisfied at having come to this salutary resolution, he took up his hat, and set out for the widow's, in order to put into operation the first part of the scheme. He rather wished it over, as he knew that Mrs Kelly was no coward, and had a strong tongue in her head. However, it must be done, and the sooner the better. He first of all looked at himself in his gla.s.s, to see that his appearance was sufficiently haughty and indignant, and, as he flattered himself, like that of a gentleman singularly out of his element in such a village as Dunmore; and then, having ordered his dinner to be ready on his return, he proceeded on his voyage for the recovery of his dear sister.

Entering the shop, he communicated his wishes to Meg, in the manner before described; and, while she was gone on her errand, he remained alone there, las.h.i.+ng his boot, in the most approved, but, still, in a very common-place manner.

"Oh, mother!" said Meg, rus.h.i.+ng into the room where her mother, and Jane, and Anty, were at dinner, "there's Barry Lynch down in the shop, wanting you."

"Oh my!" said Jane. "Now sit still, Anty dear, and he can't come near you. Shure, he'll niver be afther coming upstairs, will he, Meg?"

Anty, who had begun to feel quite happy in her new quarters, and among her kind friends, turned pale, and dropped her knife and fork. "What'll I do, Mrs Kelly?" she said, as she saw the old lady complacently get up. "You're not going to give me up? You'll not go to him?"

"Faith I will thin, my dear," replied the widow; "never fear else--I'll go to him, or any one else that sends to me in a dacent manner. May-be it's wanting tay in the shop he is. I'll go to him immediately. But, as for giving you up, I mane you to stay here, till you've a proper home of your own; and Barry Lynch has more in him than I think, av' he makes me alter my mind. Set down quiet, Meg, and get your dinner." And the widow got up, and proceeded to the shop.

The girls were all in commotion. One went to the door at the top of the stairs, to overhear as much as possible of what was to take place; and the other clasped Anty's hand, to re-a.s.sure her, having first thrown open the door of one of the bed-rooms, that she might have a place of retreat in the event of the enemy succeeding in pus.h.i.+ng his way upstairs.

"Your humble sarvant, Mr Lynch," said the widow, entering the shop and immediately taking up a position of strength in her accustomed place behind the counter. "Were you wanting me, this evening?" and she took up the knife with which she cut penn'orths of tobacco for her customers, and hitting the counter with its wooden handle looked as hard as copper, and as bold as bra.s.s.

"Yes, Mrs Kelly," said Barry, with as much dignity as he could muster, "I do want to speak to you. My sister has foolishly left her home this morning, and my servants tell me she is under your roof. Is this true?"

"Is it Anty? Indeed she is thin: ating her dinner, upstairs, this very moment;" and she rapped the counter again, and looked her foe in the face.

"Then, with your leave, Mrs Kelly, I'll step up, and speak to her. I suppose she's alone?"

"Indeed she ain't thin, for she's the two girls ating wid her, and myself too, barring that I'm just come down at your bidding. No; we're not so bad as that, to lave her all alone; and as for your seeing her, Mr Lynch, I don't think she's exactly wis.h.i.+ng it at present; so, av'

you've a message, I'll take it."

"You don't mean to say that Miss Lynch--my sister--is in this inn, and that you intend to prevent my seeing her? You'd better take care what you're doing, Mrs Kelly. I don't want to say anything harsh at present, but you'd better take care what you're about with me and my family, or you'll find yourself in a sc.r.a.pe that you little bargain for."

"I'll take care of myself, Mr Barry; never fear for me, darling; and, what's more, I'll take care of your sister, too. And, to give you a bit of my mind--she'll want my care, I'm thinking, while you're in the counthry."

"I've not come here to listen to impertinence, Mrs Kelly, and I will not do so. In fact, it is very unwillingly that I came into this house at all."

"Oh, pray lave it thin, pray lave it! We can do without you."

"Perhaps you will have the civility to listen to me. It is very unwillingly, I say, that I have come here at all; but my sister, who is, unfortunately, not able to judge for herself, is here. How she came here I don't pretend to say--"

"Oh, she walked," said the widow, interrupting him; "she walked, quiet and asy, out of your door, and into mine. But that's a lie, for it was out of her own. She didn't come through the kay-hole, nor yet out of the window."

"I'm saying nothing about how she came here, but here she is, poor creature!"

"Poor crature, indeed! She was like to be a poor crature, av' she stayed up there much longer."

"Here she is, I say, and I consider it my duty to look after her. You cannot but be aware, Mrs Kelly, that this is not a fit place for Miss Lynch. You must be aware that a road-side public-house, however decent, or a village shop, however respectable, is not the proper place for my sister; and, though I may not yet be legally her guardian, I am her brother, and am in charge of her property, and I insist on seeing her.

It will be at your peril if you prevent me."

"Have you done, now, Misther Barry?"

"That's what I've got to say; and I think you've sense enough to see the folly--not to speak of the danger, of preventing me from seeing my sister."

"That's your say, Misther Lynch; and now, listen to mine. Av' Miss Anty was wis.h.i.+ng to see you, you'd be welcome upstairs, for her sake; but she ain't, so there's an end of that; for not a foot will you put inside this, unless you're intending to force your way, and I don't think you'll be for trying that. And as to bearing the danger, why, I'll do my best; and, for all the harm you're likely to do me--that's by fair manes,--I don't think I'll be axing any one to help me out of it. So, good bye t' ye, av' you've no further commands, for I didn't yet well finish the bit I was ating."

"And you mean to say, Mrs Kelly, you'll take upon yourself to prevent my seeing my sister?"

"Indeed I do; unless she was wis.h.i.+ng it, as well as yourself; and no mistake."

"And you'll do that, knowing, as you do, that the unfortunate young woman is of weak mind, and unable to judge for herself, and that I'm her brother, and her only living relative and guardian?"

"All blathers.h.i.+n, Masther Barry," said the uncourteous widow, dropping the knife from her hand, and smacking her fingers: "as for wake mind, it's sthrong enough to take good care of herself and her money too, now she's once out of Dunmore House. There many waker than Anty Lynch, though few have had worse tratement to make them so. As for guardian, I'm thinking it's long since she was of age, and, av' her father didn't think she wanted one, when he made his will, you needn't bother yourself about it, now she's no one to plaze only herself. And as for brother, Masther Barry, why didn't you think of that before you struck her, like a brute, as you are--before you got dhrunk, like a baste, and then threatened to murdher her? Why didn't you think about brother and sisther before you thried to rob the poor _wake_ crature, as you call her; and when you found she wasn't quite wake enough, as you call it, swore to have her life, av' she wouldn't act at your bidding? That's being a brother and a guardian, is it, Masther Barry? Talk to me of danger, you ruffian," continued the widow, with her back now thoroughly up; "you'd betther look to yourself, or I know who'll be in most danger. Av' it wasn't the throuble it'd be to Anty,--and, G.o.d knows, she's had throubles enough, I'd have had her before the magisthrates before this, to tell of what was done last night up at the house, yonder. But mind, she can do it yet, and, av' you don't take yourself very asy, she shall. Danger, indeed! a robber and ruffian like you, to talk of danger to me--and his _dear_ sisther, too, and aftimer trying his best, last night, to murdher her!"

These last words, with a long drawl on the word _dear_, were addressed rather to the crowd, whom the widow's loud voice had attracted into the open shop, than to Barry, who stood, during this tirade, half stupefied with rage, and half frightened, at the open attack made on him with reference to his ill-treatment of Anty. However, he couldn't pull in his horns now, and he was obliged, in self-defence, to brazen it out.

"Very well, Mrs Kelly--you shall pay for this impudence, and that dearly. You've invented these lies, as a pretext for getting my sister and her property into your hands!"

"Lies!" screamed the widow; "av' you say lies to me agin, in this house, I'll smash the bones of ye myself, with the broom-handle.

Lies, indeed! and from you, Barry Lynch, the biggest liar in all Connaught--not to talk of robber and ruffian! You'd betther take yourself out of that, fair and asy, while you're let. You'll find you'll have the worst of it, av' you come rampaging here wid me, my man;" and she turned round to the listening crowd for sympathy, which those who dared were not slow in giving her.

"And that's thrue for you, Mrs Kelly, Ma'am," exclaimed one.

"It's a shame for him to come storming here, agin a lone widdy, so it is," said a virago, who seemed well able, like the widow herself, to take her own part.

"Who iver knew any good of a Lynch--barring Miss Anty herself?" argued a third.

"The Kellys is always too good for the likes of them," put in a fourth, presuming that the intended marriage was the subject immediately in discourse.

"Faix, Mr Martin's too good for the best of 'em," declared another.

"Niver mind Mr Martin, boys," said the widow, who wasn't well pleased to have her son's name mentioned in the affair--"it's no business of his, one way or another; he ain't in Dunmore, nor yet nigh it. Miss Anty Lynch has come to me for protection; and, by the Blessed Virgin, she shall have it, as long as my name's Mary Kelly, and I ain't like to change it; so that's the long and short of it, Barry Lynch. So you may go and get dhrunk agin as soon as you plaze, and bate and bang Terry Rooney, or Judy Smith; only I think either on 'em's more than a match for you."

"Then I tell you, Mrs Kelly," replied Barry, who was hardly able to get in a word, "that you'll hear more about it. Steps are now being taken to prove Miss Lynch a lunatic, as every one here knows she unfortunately is; and, as sure as you stand there, you'll have to answer for detaining her; and you're much mistaken if you think you'll get hold of her property, even though she were to marry your son, for, I warn you, she's not her own mistress, or able to be so."

"Drat your impudence, you low-born ruffian," answered his opponent; "who cares for her money? It's not come to that yet, that a Kelly is wanting to schame money out of a Lynch."

"I've nothing more to say, since you insist on keeping possession of my sister," and Barry turned to the door. "But you'll be indicted for conspiracy, so you'd better be prepared."

"Conspiracy, is it?" said one of Mrs Kelly's admirers; "maybe, Ma'am, he'll get you put in along with Dan and Father Tierney, G.o.d bless them!

It's conspiracy they're afore the judges for."

Barry now took himself off, before hearing the last of the widow's final peal of thunder.

"Get out wid you! You're no good, and never will be. An' it wasn't for the young woman upstairs, I'd have the coat off your back, and your face well mauled, before I let you out of the shop!" And so ended the interview, in which the anxious brother can hardly be said to have been triumphant, or successful.

The widow, on the other hand, seemed to feel that she had acquitted herself well, and that she had taken the orphan's part, like a woman, a Christian, and a mother; and merely saying, with a kind of inward chuckle, "Come to me, indeed, with his roguery! he's got the wrong pig by the ear!" she walked off, to join the more timid trio upstairs, one of whom was speedily sent down, to see that business did not go astray.

And then she gave a long account of the interview to Anty and Meg, which was hardly necessary, as they had heard most of what had pa.s.sed.

The widow however was not to know that, and she was very voluble in her description of Barry's insolence, and of the dreadfully abusive things he had said to her--how he had given her the lie, and called her out of her name. She did not, however, seem to be aware that she had, herself, said a word which was more than necessarily violent; and a.s.sured Anty over and over again, that, out of respect to her feelings, and because the man was, after all, her brother, she had refrained from doing and saying what she would have done and said, had she been treated in such a manner by anybody else. She seemed, however, in spite of the ill-treatment which she had undergone, to be in a serene and happy state of mind. She shook Anty's two hands in hers, and told her to make herself "snug and asy where she was, like a dear girl, and to fret for nothing, for no one could hurt or harum her, and she undher Mary Kelly's roof." Then she wiped her face in her ap.r.o.n, set to at her dinner; and even went so far as to drink a gla.s.s of porter, a thing she hadn't done, except on a Sunday, since her eldest daughter's marriage.

Barry Lynch sneaked up the town, like a beaten dog. He felt that the widow had had the best of it, and he also felt that every one in Dunmore was against him. It was however only what he had expected, and calculated upon; and what should he care for the Dunmore people? They wouldn't rise up and kill him, nor would they be likely even to injure him. Let them hate on, he would follow his own plan. As he came near the house gate, there was sitting, as usual, Jacky, the fool.