Humours of Irish Life Part 10

"He is a kindly man and reasonable," says she, "and it is a good reception you'll be getting. Only let you not be speaking of marriage with me, for he cannot endure to hear tell of the like."

Well, the old man made M'Carthy welcome, and he had no suspicion the two were in notion of each other. But didn't they arrange all unbeknownt to him, and plan out an elopement.

M'Carthy went back to the Jew, and he told him all. "But," says he, "I am after spending my whole great fortune of money travelling the territory of the world. I must be finding a good situation the way I'll make suitable provision for herself."

"Don't be in the least distress," says the Jew. "I did not befriend you this far to be leaving you in a bad case at the latter end. I'll oblige you with the loan of what money will start you in a fine place. You will be making repayment at the end of three years when you have made your profit on the business."

The young gentleman accepted the offer, and he fair wild with delight.

Moreover, the Jew gave himself and the lady grand a.s.sistance at the elopement, the way they got safe out of it and escaped from her father, who was raging in pursuit.

M'Carthy was rejoicing surely, and he married to a wife who was the picture of the statue. Herself was in the best of humour, too, for it was small delight she had in her own place, roaming the fields or stopping within and six waiting maids along with her. A fine, handsome husband was the right company for her like. They bought a lovely house and farm of land with the money which was lent by the Jew; and they fixed all the grandest ever was seen. After a while M'Carthy got a good commission to be an officer, the way nothing more in the world was needful to their happiness.

M'Carthy and his lady had a fine life of it, they lacking for no comfort or splendour at all. The officer's commission he had brought himself over to England from time to time, and the lady M'Carthy would mind all until he was home. He saved up what money was superfluous, and all was gathered to repay the loan to the Jew only for a few pounds.

Well, it happened that M'Carthy went to England, and there he fell in with a droll sort of a man, who was the best company. They played cards together and they drank a great power of wine. In the latter end a dispute came about between them, for they both claimed to have the best woman.

"I have a lady beyond in Ireland," says M'Carthy, "and she is an ornament to the roads when she is pa.s.sing alone. But no person gets seeing her these times, and that is a big misfortune to the world."

"What's the cause?" asks the Englishman.

"I'd have a grief on me to think another man might be looking on her and I not standing by," says M'Carthy. "So she gives me that satisfaction on her promised word: all the time I do be away she never quits the house, and no man body is allowed within."

The Englishman let a great laugh out of him at the words.

"You are simple enough!" says he. "Don't you know rightly when you are not in it, herself will be feasting and entertaining and going on with every diversion?"

M'Carthy was raging at the impertinence of him, and he offered for to fight.

"What would that be proving?" says the Englishman. "Let you make a powerful big bet with myself that I will not be able for to bring you a token from your lady and a full description of her appearance."

"I'll be winning the money off you, surely!" says M'Carthy.

"Not at all," says the Englishman. "I'm not in the least uneasy about it, for I'm full sure it's the truth I'm after speaking of how she does be playing herself in your absence."

"You'll find me in this place and you coming back." says M'Carthy. "Let you be prepared with the money to have along with you."

The Englishman took s.h.i.+p to Ireland, and he came to the house of the lady M'Carthy. Herself was in the kitchen making a cake, and she seen the man walking up to the door. Away she run to the parlour, and in the hurry she forgot the lovely pearl ring she took off her finger when she began at the cooking. Well, he found the door standing open, and he seen the ring on the kitchen table. It was easy knowing it was no common article would be in the possession of any one but the mistress of the house. What did the lad do, only slip in and put it in his pocket. With that the waiting maid came and asked his business, the lady M'Carthy was after sending her down.

"Oh, no business at all," says he. "But I am weary travelling and I thought I might rest at this place."

He began for to flatter the girl and to offer her bribes, and in the latter end he got her to speak. She told him all what the mistress of the house was like; how she had a mole under her right arm, and one on her left knee. Moreover she gave him a few long golden hairs she got out of the lady's comb.

The Englishman went back to M'Carthy, brought him the tokens, and demanded the payment of the bet. And that is the way the poor gentleman spent the money he had saved up for the Jew.

M'Carthy sent word to his wife that he was coming home, and for her to meet him on the s.h.i.+p. She put her grandest raiment upon her and started away at once. She went out to the s.h.i.+p and got up on the deck where she seen her husband standing. When she went over to him he never said a word at all, but he swept her aside with his arm the way she fell into the water. Then he went on sh.o.r.e full sure he had her drowned.

But there was another s.h.i.+p coming in, and a miller that was on her seen the lady struggling in the sea. He was an aged man, yet he ventured in after her and he saved the poor creature's life.

Well, the miller was a good sort of a man and he had great compa.s.sion for herself when she told him her story. She had no knowledge of the cause of her husband being vexed with her, and she thought it hard to believe the evidence of her senses that he was after striving to make away with her. The miller advised the lady M'Carthy to go on with the s.h.i.+p, which was sailing to another port, for maybe if she went home after the man he would be destroying her.

When the s.h.i.+p came into the harbour the news was going of a great lawsuit.

The miller heard all, and he brought word to the lady that M'Carthy was in danger of death.

"There are three charges against him," says the miller. "Your father has him impeached for stealing you away, and you not wishful to be with him: that is the first crime."

"That is a false charge," says she, "for I helped for to plan the whole elopement. My father is surely saying all in good faith, but it is a lie the whole time."

"A Jew has him accused for a sum of money he borrowed, and it was due for repayment: that is the second crime," says the miller.

"The money was all gathered up for to pay the debt," says the lady.

"Where can it be if M'Carthy will not produce it?"

"The law has him committed for the murder of yourself: and that is the third crime," says the miller.

"And a false charge, too, seeing you saved me in that ill hour. I am thinking I'd do well to be giving evidence in a court of law, for it's maybe an inglorious death they'll be giving him," says she.

"Isn't that what he laid out for yourself?" asks the miller.

"It is surely, whatever madness came on him. But I have a good wish for him the whole time."

"If that is the way of it we had best be setting out," says he.

The lady and the miller travelled overland, it being a shorter journey nor the one they were after coming by sea. When they got to the court of law wasn't the judge after condemning M'Carthy; and it was little the poor gentleman cared for the sentence of death was pa.s.sed on him.

"My life is bitter and poisoned on me," says he; "maybe the grave is the best place."

With that the lady M'Carthy stood up in the court and gave out that she had not been destroyed at all, for the miller saved her from the sea.

They began the whole trial over again, and herself told how she planned the elopement, and her father had no case at all. She could not tell why M'Carthy was wishful to destroy her, and he had kept all to himself at the first trial. But by degrees all was brought to light: the villainy of the Englishman and the deceit was practised on them by him and the servant girl.

It was decreed that the money was to be restored by that villain, and the Jew was to get his payment out of it.

The lady M'Carthy's father was in such rejoicement to see his daughter, and she alive, that he forgave herself and the husband for the elopement. Didn't the three of them go away home together and they the happiest people who were ever heard tell of in the world.

The Mad Pudding of Ballyboulteen.

BY WILLIAM CARLETON (1794-1869).

"Moll Roe Rafferty, the daughter of ould Jack Rafferty, was a fine, young bouncin' girl, large an' lavish, wid a purty head of hair on her--scarlet--that bein' one of the raisons why she was called Roe, or red; her arms and cheeks were much the colour of her hair, an' her saddle nose was the purtiest thing of its kind that ever was on a face.

"Well, anyhow, it was Moll Rafferty that was the dilsy. It happened that there was a nate vagabone in the neighbourhood, just as much overburdened wid beauty as herself, and he was named Gusty Gillespie.

Gusty was what they call a black-mouth Prosbytarian, and wouldn't keep Christmas Day, except what they call 'ould style.' Gusty was rather good-lookin', when seen in the dark, as well as Moll herself; anyhow, they got attached to each other, and in the end everything was arranged for their marriage.