Japhet in Search of a Father Part 35

"He's a bould young chap, at all events," replied the girl, "to come here all by himself."

"Oh! but it's not till to-morrow morning, and then we'll have the troops here to a.s.sist him."

"And does Jerry O'Toole know of this?"

"Sure enough he does; and I hope there'll be no murder committed in my house this blessed night. But what can a poor widow do when McDermott holds up his finger? Now, go light the fire, Kathleen, and see if the poor young man wants anything; it's a burning pity that he shouldn't have something to comfort him before his misfortunes fall upon him."

Kathleen made no reply. The horror that I felt at this discourse may easily be imagined. That it was intended that I should meet with foul play was certain, and I knew very well that, in such a desolate part of the country, the murder of an individual, totally unknown, would hardly be noticed. That I had been held up to the resentment of the inhabitants as a t.i.the collector, and an attorney with a warrant, was quite sufficient, I felt conscious, to induce them to make away with me.

How to undeceive them was the difficulty.

PART TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY.

NO HOPES OF RISING NEXT MORNING ALIVE--AT A LAST CHANCE I GET INTO BED.

Kathleen came in with fuel to light the fire, and looking rather hard at me, pa.s.sed by, and was soon busy blowing up the turf. She was a very handsome dark-eyed girl, about nineteen years of age, stout, and well made. "What is your name?" said I.

"Kathleen, at your service, sir."

"Listen to me, Kathleen," said I, in a low voice. "You are a woman, and all women are kind-hearted. I have overheard all that pa.s.sed between your mistress and you, and that McDermott has stated that I am a t.i.the collector and an attorney, with a warrant. I am no such thing. I am a gentleman who wish to speak to Sir Henry de Clare on a business which he does not like to be spoken to about; and to shew you what I say is the truth, it is about the daughter of his elder brother, who was killed when hunting, and who is supposed to be dead. I am the only evidence to the contrary; and, therefore, he and McDermott have spread this report that I may come to harm."

"Is she alive, then?" replied Kathleen, looking up to me with wonder.

"Yes; and I will not tell Sir Henry where she is, and that is the reason of their enmity."

"But I saw her body," replied the girl in a low voice, standing up, and coming close to me.

"It was not hers, depend upon it," replied I, hardly knowing what to answer to this a.s.sertion.

"At all events, it was dressed in her clothes; but it was so long before it was discovered, that we could make nothing of the features. Well, I knew the poor little thing, for my mother nursed her. I was myself brought up at the castle, and lived there till after Sir William was killed; then we were all sent away."

"Kathleen! Kathleen!" cried the landlady.

"Call for everything you can think of one after another," whispered Kathleen, leaving the room.

"I cannot make the peat burn," said she to the landlady, after she had quitted the little room; "and the gentleman wants some whisky."

"Go out then, and get some from the middle of the stack, Kathleen, and be quick; we have others to attend besides the t.i.the proctor. There's the O'Tooles all come in, and your own Corny is with them."

"My Corny, indeed!" replied Kathleen; "he's not quite so sure of that."

In a short time Kathleen returned, and brought some dry peat and a measure of whisky. "If what you say is true," said Kathleen, "and sure enough you're no Irish, and very young for a t.i.the proctor, who must grow old before he can be such a villain, you are in no very pleasant way. The O'Tooles are here, and I've an idea they mean no good; for they sit with all their heads together, whispering to each other, and all their s.h.i.+llelaghs by their sides."

"Tell me, Kathleen, was the daughter of Sir William a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl?"

"To be sure she was," replied Kathleen, "and like a little mountain fairy."

"Now, Kathleen, tell me if you recollect if the little girl or her mother ever wore a necklace of red beads mixed with gold."

"Yes, that my lady did; and it was on the child's neck when it was lost, and when the body was found it was not with it. Well I recollect that, for my mother said the child must have been drowned or murdered for the sake of the gold beads."

"Then you have proved all I wished, Kathleen; and now I tell you that this little girl is alive, and that I can produce the necklace which was lost with her; and more, that she was taken away by Sir Henry himself."

"Merciful Jesus!" replied Kathleen; "the dear little child that we cried over so much."

"But now, Kathleen, I have told you this, to prove to you that I am not what McDermott has a.s.serted, no doubt, with the intention that my brains shall be knocked out this night."

"And so they will, sure enough," replied Kathleen, "if you do not escape."

"But how am I to escape? and will you a.s.sist me?"

And I laid down on the table ten guineas from my purse.

"Take that, Kathleen, and it will help you and Corny. Now will you a.s.sist me?"

"It's Corny that will be the first to knock your brains out," replied Kathleen, "unless I can stop him. I must go now, and I'll see what can be done."

Kathleen would have departed without touching the gold; but I caught her by the wrist, collected it, and put it into her hand.

"That's not like a t.i.the proctor, at all events," replied Kathleen; "but my heart aches and my head swims, and what's to be done I know not." So saying, Kathleen quitted the room.

"Well," thought I, after she had left the room, "at all events I have not been on a wrong scent this time. Kathleen has proved to me that Fleta is the daughter of the late Sir William; and if I escape this snare, Melchior shall do her justice." Pleased with my having so identified Melchior and Fleta, I fell into a train of thought, and for the first time forgot my perilous situation, but I was roused from my meditations by an exclamation from Kathleen. "No, no, Corny, nor any of ye--not now--and mother and me to witness it--it shall not be, Corny, hear me, as sure as blood's drawn, and we up to see it, so sure does Corny O'Toole never touch this hand of mine." A pause, and whispering followed, and again all appeared to be quiet. I unstrapped my portmanteau, took out my pistols, which were loaded, re-primed them, and remained quiet, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible.

It was more than half an hour before Kathleen returned; she looked pale and agitated. "Keep quiet, and do not think of resistance," said she; "it is useless. I have told my mother all, and she believes you, and will risk her life to save him who has watched over the little girl whom she nursed; but keep quiet, we shall soon have them all out of the house. Corny dare not disobey me, and he will persuade the others."

She then went out again, and did not return for nearly an hour, when she was accompanied by her mother. "Kathleen has told me all, young sir,"

said she, "and do what we can, we will; but we hardly know what to do.

To go to the castle would be madness."

"Yes," replied I: "but cannot you give me one of your horses to return the way I came?"

"That was our intention; but I find that the O'Tooles have taken them all out of the stable to prevent me; and the house is watched. They will come at midnight and attack us, that I fully expect, and how to conceal you puzzles my poor head."

"If they come, we can but persuade them that he has escaped," replied Kathleen; "they will no longer watch the house, and he will then have some chance."

"There is but one chance," replied the mother, who took Kathleen aside, and whispered to her. Kathleen coloured to the forehead, and made no reply. "If your mother bids you, Kathleen, there can be no harm."

"Yes; but if Corny was--"

"He dare not," replied the mother; "and now put this light out, and do you get into bed, sir, with your clothes on." They led me to a small bed-room, a miserable affair; but in that part of the country considered respectable. "Lie down there," said the mother, "and wait till we call you." They took the light away, and left me to myself and my own reflections, which were anything but pleasant. I lay awake, it might be for two hours, when I heard the sound of feet, and then a whispering under the window, and shortly afterwards a loud knocking at the door, which they were attempting to burst open. Every moment I expected that it would yield to the violence which was made use of, when the mother came down half-dressed, with a light in her hand, hastened to me, and desired me to follow her. I did so, and before she left my room, she threw the window wide open. She led me up a sort of half-stairs, half-ladder, to a small room, where I found Kathleen sitting up in her bed, and half-dressed. "O mother! mother!" cried Kathleen.

"I bid ye do it, child," replied the mother, desiring me to creep into her daughter's bed, and cover myself up on the side next the wall.

"Let me put on more clothes, mother."

"No, no, if you do, they will suspect, and will not hesitate to search.

Your mother bids you."