Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent Part 21

"Don't you know," added Poll, "that the thing can be done? Isn't the sheriff himself an Orangeman--isn't the sub-sheriff an Orangeman--isn't the grand jury Orange, aren't they all Orange through other?"

"I believe so, indeed," said Mary, still weeping bitterly, "and there is, I fear, little or no hope."

"Well, but," replied Poll, "what if I could give you hope?"

"You, Poll, what can you mean? You!"

"Yes, me," said Poll, "poor as I stand here now."

"Well, but how?"

"Through them that can turn old Val the Vulture round their finger. What do you think brought me here--or who do you think sent me? Don't you know that I have no raison to like a bone in the skin of one o' your family, and that it's more, of coorse, to plaise others than myself that I'm here; but, over and above that, you, Miss M'Loughlin, never offended or injured me, and I'm willin' to sarve you in this business, if you will sarve yourself."

"But, how--but, how?" replied the distracted girl, "only tell me how?"

"There is one, and only one, that can twist Val round his finger, and in this same business is willing to do so--and that one is his own son, Phil."

Mary stood for a moment without even breathing; indeed, she exhibited strong symptoms of disgust at his very name.

"He is a person I detest," she replied, "beyond any human creature."

"That may be," said Poll, "but still he can save the man that is to be your husband; and that's what you ought to think of--the time is short now, and the loss of a day may ruin all. Listen Miss M'Loughlin:--Mr.

Phil desired me to say to you, that if you will allow him a few minutes'

conversation with you behind the garden, about dusk or a little after it, he'll satisfy you that he can and will save him--but it must be on the condition of seeing you, as I say."

"Let him be generous," she replied, "and impose no such condition."

"He won't interfare on any other terms," replied Poll; "he knows, it seems, that you have an unfavorable opinion of him, and he wishes to prove to you that he doesn't desarve it."

Mary paused for some time, and appeared very much distressed. I fear, thought she, it is selfish in me to think of my own feelings, or to have a moment's hesitation in sacrificing them to his safety. It is certainly a disgusting task to meet this man; but what ought I not to do, consistent with conscious rect.i.tude of motive, to save my dear Harman's life, for I fear the circ.u.mstances come to that.

"Well, then, Poll, if I meet this man, mark me, it is solely for the purpose of striving to save Mr. Harman's life; and observe, because Mr.

M'Clutchy is ungenerous enough to make my meeting him the condition of his interference."

"That," said Poll, "is for yourself to consider; but surely you would be a strange girl, if you refused to meet him for such a purpose. That would be a quare way of showing your love to Mr. Harman."

"I shall meet him, then," said Mary, "at the stile behind the garden; and may G.o.d direct and protect me in what I purpose!"

Poll gave no amen, to this, as it might be supposed she would have done, but simply said--

"I'm glad, Miss M'Loughlin, that you're doin' what you are doin'. It'll be a comfort maybe to yourself to reflect on it hereafther. Good night, Miss."

Mary bade her good night, and after closing the shutters of her room which she had come to do, retired; and with an anxious heart returned to the parlor.

M'Loughlin's family consisted of three sons and but one daughter, Mary, with whom our readers are already acquainted. The eldest, James, was a fine young man of twenty-three; the second, Tom, was younger than Mary, who then was entering her twenty-first; and the youngest, called Brian, after his father, was only eighteen. The honest fellow's brow was clouded with a deep expression of melancholy, and he sat for some time silent after Mary's return to the parlor. At length he said in a kind of soliloquy--

"I wish, _Raymond-na-hattha_, you had been behind the Slievbeen Mountains that bitter morning you came for James Harman!"

"If he had," said Tom, "poor James wouldn't be where he is to-night."

"But I hope, father," said Mary, in a voice which though it trembled a little, yet expressed a certain portion of confidence--"I hope as it was an accident, that there will not be any serious risk."

"I would be sorry to take any hope out of your heart that's in it, Mary; but, still, I can't forget that Val the Vulture's his bitterest enemy--and we all know what he's capable of doing. His son, too, graceful Phil, is still worse against him than the father, especially ever since Harman pulled his nose for what he said of Mary here. Did I ever mention it to you?"

"No, sir," replied Mary, coloring without exactly knowing why, "you never did."

"I was present," said young Brian, "but it wasn't so much for what he said, for he got afraid, but the way he looked."

"The scoundrel," said James, indignantly, "well Brian--"

"'Twas at the Ball Alley," proceeded the young fellow, "in Castle c.u.mber; Mary was pa.s.sing homewards, and Phil was speaking to long Tom Sharpe, father to one of the blood-hounds. 'That's a purty girl,' said Sharpe, 'who is she?' 'Oh,' says Phil, 'an acquaintance of mine--but I can say no more honor bright,' and he winked one of his squinting eyes as he spoke. James Harman who was standing behind him stepped forward, 'but I can say more,' said he, 'she's daughter to Brian M'Loughlin, and no acquaintance of yours--and what is more, never will be; ay, and what is more,' said James, 'here's a proof of it;' and as he spoke he pulled Phil's proboscis, and then wiped his fingers in his purty face. 'Now, you cowardly scoundrel,' he added, 'let that teach you not to speak of any respectable female in such a tone, or to claim an acquaintance where you have it not.'"

"Never mind, my good fellow," said Phil, "I'll make you smoke for this."

"You know where I'm to be found," said James, "and your remedy too; but you haven't the spirit to take it like a man--and so I leave you with the white feather in your cap."

This anecdote for various reasons distressed Mary beyond relief. It increased her detestation of young M'Clutchy to the highest possible pitch, and rendered the very thought of him doubly odious to her heart.

Her understanding became bewildered, and for a while she knew not what she said or did. Taking a candle and attempting to conceal her agitation, she withdrew again to her own room, where she sat for nearly half an hour endeavoring to shape her tumultuous thoughts into something of clearness and order.

M'Loughlin's brow, however, after her departure, still remained clouded.

"Misfortunes they say," said he, "never come single; here is our lease out, and we will not get a renewal notwithstanding the fine we offered--and to mend the matter some good friend has spread a report that the firm of M'Loughlin and Harman is unsafe. Our creditors are coming down upon us fast--but it's the way of the world, every one striving to keep himself safe. If these men were not set upon us by some coward in the dark there would be neither loss nor risk to them nor to us; but if they press on us out of the usual course, I fear we won't be able to stand it. Then poor Harman, too! heighonee!" After some further conversation, in which it was clear that M'Clutchy's and M'Slime's manoeuvres had begun to develop themselves, Mary rejoined them. Her countenance on her return was evidently more composed, and impressed with a more decided, perhaps we should say, determined character. She had made her mind up. M'Clutchy, junior, was no doubt one of the most detastable of men, but as she knew that she hated him, and felt a perfect consciousness of all that was truthful, and pure, and cautious in herself, she came once more to the resolution of sacrificing her own disgust to the n.o.ble object of saving her lover. Besides, it was by no means an unreasonable hope on her part; for such was the state of party and political feeling at the time, that wiser and more experienced heads would have calculated rightly, and calculated as she did.

"Father," said she, on returning to the parlor, "don't be cast down too much about Harman--I think, considering everything, that his case is far from being hopeless. There is Father Roche--as for poor Mary O'Regan, in consequence of her insanity, she unfortunately can be of no use--and one of the blood-hounds are against the two others. Now, two to two, is surely strong evidence in his favor."

She did not, however, make the slightest allusion to the grounds on which she actually did rest her hope--that is to say, on Phil's influence over his father.

M'Loughlin was glad to see that her spirits were so much more improved than they had been; and so far from uttering anything calculated, to depress them, he appeared to feel much more easy in his mind than before--and, perhaps, actually did so.

"Well," said he to his wife, who was a woman of few words but deep feeling; "Kathleen, will you see that we get a gla.s.s of punch--the boys and I; there can be no harm surely in drinking a ------; but it's time enough to drink it when we see the liquor before us. Mary, avourneen, as you are activer than your mother, will you undertake that duty?--do, avillish machree."

In a few minutes Mary quietly but actively had the decanter, sugar, and hot water before them; and Brian, having mixed a tumbler for himself, and shoved the materials over to his two eldest boys, resumed the conversation.

"Come, boys; are you mixed?"

"All ready, sir."

"Well, here's that James Harman may triumph over his enemies!"

This was drank, we need not say, with an anxious and sincere heart.

"Do you know now," said M'Loughlin, "that I think there's a very great difference between little M'Slime, and that Vulture of h.e.l.l, M'Clutchy.

The little fellow came riding past to-day, and seeing me in the field, he beckoned to me:--

"'I hope,' says he, 'that certain reports, which I was sorry to hear of, are unfounded?'

"'What reports, Mr. M'Slime?' says I to him.

"'Why,' said he, 'it is not out of idle curiosity that I make the inquiry, but I trust from better and more Christian motives;' and, upon my conscience, the little fellow turned up his eyes towards heaven, in a way that would shame Father Roche himself. Faith, if there wasn't truth there, I don't know where you could get it. 'The reports I speak of,'

says he, 'touch the solvency of your firm.'