The Kellys and the O'Kellys Part 47

He went in and ordered the dinner; filled the spirit decanters, opened a couple of bottles of wine, and then walked out again. In giving his orders, and doing the various little things with which he had to keep himself employed, everybody, and everything seemed strange to him. He hardly knew what he was about, and felt almost as though he were in a dream. He had quite made up his mind as to what he would do; his resolution was fixed to carry it through but:--still there was the but,--how was he to open it to Doctor Colligan? He walked up and down the gravel path for a long time, thinking of this; or rather trying to think of it, for his thoughts would fly away to all manner of other subjects, and he continually found himself harping upon some trifle, connected with Anty, but wholly irrespective of her death; some little thing that she had done for him, or ought to have done; something she had said a long time ago, and which he had never thought of till now; something she had worn, and which at the time he did not even know that he had observed; and as often as he found his mind thus wandering, he would start off at a quicker pace, and again endeavour to lay out a line of conduct for the evening.

At last, however, he came to the conclusion that it would be better to trust to the chapter of chances: there was one thing, or rather two things, he could certainly do: he could make the doctor half drunk before he opened on the subject, and he would take care to be in the same state himself. So he walked in and sat still before the fire, for the two long remaining hours, which intervened before the clock struck six.

It was about noon when the doctor left him, and during those six long solitary hours no one feeling of remorse had entered his breast. He had often doubted, hesitated as to the practicability of his present plan, but not once had he made the faintest effort to overcome the wish to have the deed done. There was not one moment in which he would not most willingly have had his sister's blood upon his hands, upon his brain, upon his soul; could he have willed and accomplished her death, without making himself liable to the penalties of the law.

At length Doctor Colligan came, and Barry made a great effort to appear unconcerned and in good humour.

"And how is she now, doctor?" he said, as they sat down to table.

"Is it Anty?--why, you know I didn't mean to see her since I was here this morning, till nine o'clock."

"Oh, true; so you were saying. I forgot. Well, will you take a gla.s.s of wine?"--and Barry filled his own gla.s.s quite full.

He drank his wine at dinner like a glutton, who had only a short time allowed him, and wished during that time to swallow as much as possible; and he tried to hurry his companion in the same manner. But the doctor didn't choose to have wine forced down his throat; he wished to enjoy himself, and remonstrated against Barry's violent hospitality.

At last, dinner was over; the things were taken away, they both drew their chairs over the fire, and began the business of the evening--the making and consumption of punch. Barry had determined to begin upon the subject which lay so near his heart, at eight o'clock. He had thought it better to fix an exact hour, and had calculated that the whole matter might be completed before Colligan went over to the inn. He kept continually looking at his watch, and gulping down his drink, and thinking over and over again how he would begin the conversation.

"You're very comfortable here, Lynch," said the doctor, stretching his long legs before the fire, and putting his dirty boots upon the fender.

"Yes, indeed," said Barry, not knowing what the other was saying.

"All you want's a wife, and you'd have as warm a house as there is in Galway. You'll be marrying soon, I suppose?"

"Well, I wouldn't wonder if I did. You don't take your punch; there's brandy there, if you like it better than whiskey."

"This is very good, thank you--couldn't be better. You haven't much land in your own hands, have you?"

"Why, no--I don't think I have. What's that you're saying?--land?--No, not much: if there's a thing I hate, it's farming."

"Well, upon my word you're wrong. I don't see what else a gentleman has to do in the country. I wish to goodness I could give up the gallipots [41] and farm a few acres of my own land. There's nothing I wish so much as to get a bit of land: indeed, I've been looking out for it, but it's so difficult to get."

[FOOTNOTE 41: gallipots--A gallipot was a small ceramic vessel used by apothecaries to hold medicines. The term was also used colloquially to refer to apothecaries themselves and even physicians (Trollope so uses the term in later chapters).]

Up to this, Barry had hardly listened to what the doctor had been saying; but now he was all attention. "So that is to be his price,"

thought he to himself, "he'll cost me dear, but I suppose he must have it."

Barry looked at his watch: it was near eight o'clock, but he seemed to feel that all he had drank had had no effect on him: it had not given him the usual pluck; it had not given him the feeling of reckless a.s.surance, which he mistook for courage and capacity.

"If you've a mind to be a tenant of mine, Colligan, I'll keep a look out for you. The land's crowded now, but there's a lot of them cottier [42] devils I mean to send to the right about. They do the estate no good, and I hate the sight of them. But you know how the property's placed, and while Anty's in this wretched state, of course I can do nothing."

[FOOTNOTE 42: cottier--an Irish tenant renting land directly from the owner, with the price determined by bidding]

"Will you bear it in mind though, Lynch? When a bit of land does fall into your hands, I should be glad to be your tenant. I'm quite in earnest, and should take it as a great favour."

"I'll not forget it;" and then he remained silent for a minute. What an opportunity this was for him to lose! Colligan so evidently wished to be bribed--so clearly showed what the price was which was to purchase him. But still he could not ask the fatal question.

Again he sat silent for a while, till he looked at his watch, and found it was a quarter past eight. "Never fear," he said, referring to the farm; "you shall have it, and it shall not be the worst land on the estate that I'll give you, you may be sure; for, upon my soul, I have a great regard for you; I have indeed."

The doctor thanked him for his good opinion.

"Oh! I'm not blarneying you; upon my soul I'm not; that's not the way with me at all; and when you know me better you'll say so,--and you may be sure you shall have the farm by Michaelmas." And then, in a voice which he tried to make as unconcerned as possible, he continued: "By the bye, Colligan, when do you think this affair of Anty's _will_ be over? It's the devil and all for a man not to know when he'll be his own master."

"Oh, you mustn't calculate on your sister's property at all now," said the other, in an altered voice. "I tell you it's very probable she may recover."

This again silenced Barry, and he let the time go by, till the doctor took up his hat, to go down to his patient.

"You'll not be long, I suppose?" said Barry.

"Well, it's getting late," said Colligan, "and I don't think I'll be coming back to-night."

"Oh, but you will; indeed, you must. You promised you would, you know, and I want to hear how she goes on."

"Well, I'll just come up, but I won't stay, for I promised Mrs Colligan to be home early." This was always the doctor's excuse when he wished to get away. He never allowed his domestic promises to draw him home when there was anything to induce him to stay abroad; but, to tell the truth, he was getting rather sick of his companion. The doctor took his hat, and went to his patient.

"He'll not be above ten minutes or at any rate a quarter of an hour,"

thought Barry, "and then I must do it. How he sucked it all in about the farm!--that's the trap, certainly." And he stood leaning with his back against the mantel-piece, and his coat-laps hanging over his arm, waiting for and yet fearing, the moment of the doctor's return. It seemed an age since he went. Barry looked at his watch almost every minute; it was twenty minutes past nine, five-and-twenty--thirty--forty--three quarters of an hour--"By Heaven!"

said he, "the man is not coming! he is going to desert me--and I shall be ruined! Why the deuce didn't I speak out when the man was here!"

At last his ear caught the sound of the doctor's heavy foot on the gravel outside the door, and immediately afterwards the door bell was rung. Barry hastily poured out a gla.s.s of raw spirits and swallowed it; he then threw himself into his chair, and Doctor Colligan again entered the room.

"What a time you've been, Colligan! Why I thought you weren't coming all night. Now, Terry, some hot water, and mind you look sharp about it. Well, how's Anty to-night?"

"Weak, very weak; but mending, I think. The disease won't kill her now; the only thing is whether the cure will."

"Well, doctor, you can't expect me to be very anxious about it: unfortunately, we had never any reason to be proud of Anty, and it would be humbug in me to pretend that I wish she should recover, to rob me of what you know I've every right to consider my own." Terry brought the hot water in, and left the room.

"Well, I can't say you do appear very anxious about it. I'll just swallow one dandy of punch, and then I'll get home. I'm later now than I meant to be."

"Nonsense, man. The idea of your being in a hurry, when everybody knows that a doctor can never tell how long he may be kept in a sick-room!

But come now, tell the truth; put yourself in my condition, and do you mean to say you'd be very anxious that Anty should recover?--Would you like your own sister to rise from her death-bed to rob you of everything you have? For, by Heaven! it is robbery--nothing less. She's so stiff-necked, that there's no making any arrangement with her. I've tried everything, fair means and foul, and nothing'll do but she must go and marry that low young Kelly--so immeasurably beneath her, you know, and of course only scheming for her money. Put yourself in my place, I say; and tell me fairly what your own wishes would be?"

"I was always fond of my brothers and sisters," answered the doctor; "and we couldn't well rob each other, for none of us had a penny to lose."

"That's a different thing, but just supposing you were exactly in my shoes at this moment, do you mean to tell me that you'd be glad she should get well?--that you'd be glad she should be able to deprive you of your property, disgrace your family, drive you from your own home, and make your life miserable for ever after?"

"Upon my soul I can't say; but good night now, you're getting excited, and I've finished my drop of punch."

"Ah! nonsense, man, sit down. I've something in earnest I want to say to you," and Barry got up and prevented the doctor from leaving the room. Colligan had gone so far as to put on his hat and great coat, and now sat down again without taking them off.

"You and I, Colligan, are men of the world, and too wide awake for all the old woman's nonsense people talk. What can I, or what could you in my place, care for a half-cracked old maid like Anty, who's better dead than alive, for her own sake and everybody's else; unless it is some scheming ruffian like young Kelly there, who wants to make money by her?"

"I'm not asking you to care for her; only, if those are your ideas, it's as well not to talk about them for appearance sake."

"Appearance sake! There's nothing makes me so sick, as for two men like you and me, who know what's what, to be talking about appearance sake, like two confounded parsons, whose business it is to humbug everybody, and themselves into the bargain. I'll tell you what: had my father--bad luck to him for an old rogue--not made such a will as he did, I'd 've treated Anty as well as any parson of 'em all would treat an old maid of a sister; but I'm not going to have her put over my head this way.

Come, doctor, confound all humbug. I say it openly to you--to please me, Anty must never come out of that bed alive."

"As if your wishes could make any difference. If it is to be so, she'll die, poor creature, without your saying so much about it; but may-be, and it's very likely too, she'll be alive and strong, after the two of us are under the sod."

"Well; if it must be so, it must; but what I wanted to say to you is this: while you were away, I was thinking about what you said of the farm--of being a tenant of mine, you know."