The Black Prophet Part 44

Mave smiled and blushed at the compliment, and the pedlar eyed her apparently with a mixed feeling of admiration and compa.s.sion.

"No," she replied, "I haven't any desire to part with it."

"You had the sickness, maybe?"

"Thanks be to the mercy of G.o.d," she fervently exclaimed, "no one in this family has had it yet."

"Well, achora," he continued, "if you take my advice you'll dispose of it, in regard that if the sickness--which may G.o.d prevent--should come, it will be well for you to have it off you. If you sell it, I'll give you either money or value for it; for indeed, an' truth it flogs all I've seen this many a day."

"They say," observed her mother, "that it's not lucky to sell one's hair, and whether it's true or not I don't know; but I'm tould for a sartinty, that there's not a girl that ever sould it but was sure to catch the sickness."

"I know that there's truth in that," said Jerry himself. "There's Sally Hacket, and Mary Geoghegan, and Katy Dowdall, all sould it, and not one of them escaped the sickness. And, moreover, didn't I hear Misther Cooper, the bleedin' doctor, say, myself, in the market, on Sathurday, that the people couldn't do a worse thing than cut their hair close, as it lets the sickness in by the head, and makes it tin times as hard upon them, when it comes."

"Well, well, there's no arguin' wid you," said the pedlar, "all I say is, that you ought to part wid it, acushla--by all means you ought."

"Never mind him, Mave darlin'," said her mother, whose motive in saying so was altogether dictated by affectionate apprehensions for her health.

"No," replied her daughter, "it is not my intention, mother, to part with what G.o.d has given me. I have no notion of it."

At this stage of the dialogue, her eldest brother, who had been getting a horse shod at the next forge, entered the house, and threw himself carelessly on a chair. His appearance occasioned a alight pause in the conversation.

"Well, Denny," said the father, "what's the news?"

"Bad news with the Daltons," replied the boy.

"With the Daltons!" exclaimed Mave, trembling, and getting paler, if possible, than she was; "for G.o.d's mercy, Dennis, what has happened amongst them?"

"I met Mrs. Dalton a while ago," he replied, "and she tould me that they had no one now to take care of them. Sarah M'Gowan, the Black Prophet's daughter, has catched the sickness, and is lyin' in a shed there beyant, that a poor thravellin' family was in about a week ago. Mrs. Dalton says her own family isn't worse wid the sickness, but betther, she thinks; but she was cryin', the daicent craythur, and she says they'll die wid neglect and starvation, for she must be out, and there's no one to attend to them, and they have nothing but the black wather, G.o.d help them!"

While he spoke, Mave's eyes were fastened upon him, as if the sentence of her own life or death was about to issue from his lip. Gradually, however, she breathed more freely; a pale red tinged her cheek for a moment, after which, a greater paleness settled upon it again.

The pedlar shook his head. "Ah," he exclaimed, "they are hard times, sure enough; may the Lord bring us all safe through them! Well, I see I'm not likely to make my fortune among you," he added, smiling, "so I must tramp on, but any way, I must thank you for house-room and your civility."

"I'd offer something to ait," said Mrs. Sullivan, with evident pain, "but the truth is--"

"Not a morsel," replied the other, "if the house was overflown.'. G.o.d bless you all--G.o.d bless you."

Mave, almost immediately after her brother had concluded, pa.s.sed to another room, and returned just as the old pedlar had gone out. She instantly followed him with a hasty step; while he, on hearing her foot, turned round.

"You told me that you admired my hair," she said, on coming up to him.

"Now, supposin' I'm willin' to sell it to you, what ought I to get for it?"

"Don't be alarmed by what they say inside," replied the pedlar; "any regular doctor would tell that, in these times, it's safer to part wid it--that I may be happy but I'm tellin' you thruth. What is it worth?

What are you axin?"

"I don't know; but for G.o.d's sake cut it off, and give me the most you can afford for it. Oh! believe me, it's not on account of the mere value of it, but the money may save lives."

"Why, achora, what do you intend doin' wid the money, if it's a fair question to ax?"

"It's not a fair question for a stranger--it's enough for me to tell you that I'll do nothing with it without my father and mother's knowledge.

Here, Denny," she said, addressing her brother, who was on his way to the stable, "slip a stool through the windy, an' stay wid me in the barn--I want to send you of a message in a few minutes."

It is only necessary to say that the compensation was a more liberal one than Mave had at all expected, and the pedlar disenc.u.mbered her of as rich and abundant a ma.s.s of hair as ever ornamented a female head. This he did, however, in such a way as to render the absence of it as little perceptible as might be; the side locks he did not disturb, and Mave, when she put on a clean night cap, looked as if she had not undergone any such operation.

As the pedlar was going away, he called her aside, so as that her brother might not hear.

"Did you ever see me afore?" he asked.

"I did," she replied, blus.h.i.+ng. "Well, achora," he proceeded, "if ever you happen to be hard set, either for yourself or your friends, send for me, in Widow Hanlon's house at the Grange, an' maybe I may befriend either you or them; that is, as far as I can--which, dear knows, is not far; but, still an' all, send. I'm known as the _Cannie Sugah_, or Merry Pedlar, an' that'll do. G.o.d mark you, _ahagur!_"

Her brother's intelligence respecting the situation of the Daltons, as well as of Sarah M'Gowan, saved Mave a long explanation to her parents for the act of having parted with her hair.

"We are able to live--barely able to live," she exclaimed; "an' thanks be to G.o.d we have our health; but the Daltons--oh! they'll never get through what they're sufferin'; an' that girl--oh! mother, sich a girl as that is--how little does the world know of the heart that beautiful craythur has. May the mercy of G.o.d rest upon her! This money is for the poor Daltons an' her; we can do without it--an', mother dear, my hair will grow again. Oh! father dear, think of it--lyin' in a could shed by the road-side, an' no one to help or a.s.sist her--to hand her a drink--to ease her on her hard bed--bed!--no on the cold earth I suppose! Oh!

think if I was in that desolate state. May G.o.d support me, but she's the first I'll see; an' while I have life an' strength, she musn't want attendance; an' thank G.o.d her shed's on my way to the Daltons!"

She then hastily sent her brother into Ballynafail for such comforts as she deemed necessary for both parties; and in the mean time, putting a bonnet over her clean nightcap, she proceeded to the shed in which Sarah M'Gowan lay.

On looking at it ere she entered, she could not help shuddering. It was such a place as the poorest pauper in the poorest cabin would not willingly place an animal in for shelter. It simply consisted of a few sticks laid up against the side of a ditch; over these sticks were thrown a few scraws--that is, the sward of the earth cut thin; in the inside was the remnant of some loose straw, the greater part having been taken away either for bedding or firing.

When Mave entered, she started at the singular appearance of Sarah. From the first moment her person had been known to her until the present, she had never seen her look half so beautiful. She literally lay stretched upon a little straw, with no other pillow than a sod of earth under that rich and glowing cheek, while her raven hair had fallen down, and added to the milk-white purity of her s.h.i.+ning neck and bosom.

"Father of Mercy!" exclaimed Mave, mentally, "how will she live--how can she live here? An' what will become of her? Is she to die in this miserable way in a Christian land?"

Sarah lay groaning with pain, and starting from time to time with the pangs of its feverish inflictions. Mave spoke not when she entered the shed, being ignorant whether Sarah was asleep or awake; but a very few moments soon satisfied her that the unhappy and deserted girl was under the influence of delirium.

"I won't break my promise, father, but I'll break my heart; an' I can't even give her warnin'. Ah! but it's threacherous--an' I hate that. No, no--I'll have no hand in it--manage it your own way--it's threacherous.

She has crossed my happiness,you say--ay, an' there you're right--so she has--only for her I might--amn't I as handsome, you say, an' as well shaped--haven't I as white a skin?--as beautiful hair, an' as good eyes?--people say betther--an' if I have, wouldn't he come to love me in time?--only for her--or if there wasn't that bar put between us. You're right, you're right. She's the cause of all my sufferin' an' sorrow. She is--I agree--I agree--down with her--out o' my way with her--I hate the thoughts of her--an' I'll join it--for mark me, father, wicked I may be, but more miserable I can't--so I'll join you in it. What need I care now?"

Mave felt her heart sink, and her whole being disturbed with a heavy sense of terror, as Sarah uttered the incoherent rhapsody which we have just repeated. The vague, but strongly expressed warnings which she had previously heard from Nelly, and the earnest admonitions which that person had given her to beware of evil designs on the part of Donnel Dhu and his daughter, now rushed upon her mind; and she stood looking upon the desolate girl with feelings that it is difficult to describe. She also remembered that Sarah herself had told her in their very last interview, that she had other thoughts, and worse thoughts than the fair battle of rivalry between them would justify; and it was only now, too, that the unconscious allusion to the Prophet struck her with full force.

Her sweet and gentle magnanimity, however, rose over every other consideration but the frightfully desolate state of her unhappy rival.

Even in this case, also, her own fears of contagion yielded to the benevolent sense of duty by which she was actuated.

"Come what will," she said to her own heart; "we ought to return good for evil; an' there's no use in knowing what is right, unless we strive to put it in practice. At any rate, poor girl--poor, generous Sarah, I'm afeard that you're never likely to do harm to me, or any one else, in this world. May G.o.d, in his mercy, pity and relieve you--and restore you wanst more to health!"

Mave, unconsciously, repeated the last words aloud; and Sarah, who had been lying with her back to the unprotected opening of the shed, having had a slight mitigation, and but a slight one, of the paroxysm under which she had uttered the previous incoherencies, now turned round, and fixing her eyes upon Mave, kept sharply, but steadily, gazing at her for some time. It was quite evident, however, that consciousness had not returned, for after she had surveyed Mave for a minute or two, she proceeded--

"The devil was there a while ago, but I wasn't afeard of him, because I knew that G.o.d was stronger than him; and then there came an angel--another angel, not you--and put him away; but it wasn't my guardian angel for I never had a guardian angel--oh, never, never--no, nor any one to take care o' me, or make me love them."

She uttered the last words in a tone of such deep and distressing sorrow, that Mave's eyes filled with tears, and she replied--

"Dear Sarah, let me be your guardian angel; I will do what I can for you; do you not know me?"

"No, I don't; arn't you one o' the angels that come about me?--the place is full o' them."

"Unhappy girl--or maybe happy girl," exclaimed Mave, with a fresh gush of tears, "who knows but the Almighty has your cold and deserted--bed I can't call it--surrounded with beings that may comfort you, an' take care that no evil thing will harm you. Oh no, dear Sarah, I am far from that--I'm a wake, sinful mortal."

"Bekaise they're about me continually an'--let me see--who are you? I know you. One o' them said a while ago, 'May G.o.d relieve you and restore you wanst more to health;' I heard the voice."