The Black Prophet Part 49

"Very well, Rody," said the Prophet, with a grim but bitter smile, "it'll be time enough then. Now, go and manage these fellows, an' see you do things as they ought to be done."

"She's fond o' Charley Hanlon, to my own knowledge."

"Who is?"

"Sarah, an' between you an' me, it's not a Brinoge like him that's fit for her. She's a, hasty and an uncertain kind of a girl--:a good dale wild or so--an' it isn't, as I said, the! likes o' that chap that 'id answer her, but a steady, experienced, sober--"

"Honest man, Rody. Well, I'm not in a laughin' humor, now; be off, an'

see that you do yourself an' us all credit."

When he was gone, the Prophet drew a long breath--one, however, from its depth, evidently indicative of anything but ease of mind. He then rose, and was preparing to go out, when Sarah, who had only laid herself on the bed, without undressing, got up, and approaching him, said, in a voice tremulous with weakness:

"Father, I have heard every word you and Rody said."

"Well," replied her father, looking at her, "I supposed as much. I made no secret of anything; however, keep to your bed--you're--"

"Father, I have changed my mind; you have neither my heart nor wish in anything you're bent on this night."

"Changed your mind!" replied the Prophet, bitterly. "Oh! you're a real woman, I suppose, like your mother; you'll drive some unfortunate man to hate the world an all that's in it yet?"

"Father, I care as little about the world as you do; but still never will I lay myself out to do anything that's wrong."

"You promised to a.s.sist us then in Mave Sullivan's business, for all that," he replied. "You can break your word, too. Ah! real woman again."

"Sooner than keep that promise, father, now, I would willingly let the last dhrop of blood out o' my heart--my unhappy heart--Father, you're provin' yourself to be what I can't name. Listen to me--you're on the brink o' destruction. Stop in time, an' fly, for there's a fate over you. I dremt since I lay down--not more than a couple of hours ago--that I saw the Tobacco Box you were lookin' for, in the hands of--"

"Don't bother or vex me with your d--d nonsense about dhrames," he replied, in a loud and excited voice. "The curse o' Heaven on all dhrames, an' every stuff o' the kind. Go to bed."

He slapped the door violently after him as he spoke, and left her to her own meditations.

CHAPTER x.x.x. -- Self-sacrifice--Villany

Time pa.s.ses now as it did on the night recorded in the preceding chapter. About the hour of two o'clock, on the same night, a chaise was standing at the cross roads of Tulnavert, in which a gentleman, a little but not much the worse of liquor, sat in a mood redolent of anything but patience. Many e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns did he utter, and some oaths, in consequence of the delay of certain parties whom he expected to meet there. At length the noise of many feet was heard, and in the course of a few minutes a body of men advanced in the darkness, one of whom approached the chaise, and asked--"Is that Masther d.i.c.k?"

"Master d.i.c.k, sirrah: no, it's not."

"Then there must be some mistake," replied the fellow, who was a stranger; "and as it's a runaway match, by gorra, it would never do to give the girl to the wrong person. It was Masther d.i.c.k that the Prophet desired us to inquire for."

"There is a mistake, my friend; there is--my name, my good fellow, happens to be Master Richard, or rather Mister Richard. In all other respects, everything is right. I expect a lady; and I am the gentleman, but not Master d.i.c.k, though--Richard is the correct reading."

"Then, sir," replied the fellow, "here she is;" and whilst speaking, a horseman, bearing a female before him, came forward, and in a few minutes she was transferred without any apparent resistance, to the inside of the vehicle which awaited her. This vehicle we shall now follow.

The night, as we said, was dark, but it was also cold and stormy. The driver, who had received his instructions, proceeded in the direction of the Grange; and we only I say so generally, because so many cross roads branched off from that which they took, that it was impossible to say when or where; Master or Mister Richard may have intended to stop. In the meantime, that enterprising and gallant young gentleman commenced a dialogue, somewhat as follows:--

"My dear Miss Sullivan, I must be satisfied that these fellows have conducted this business with all due respect to your feelings, I hope they have not done anything to insult you."

"I am very weak," replied the lady; "you needn't expect me to spake much, for I'm not able. I only wish I was in Heaven, or anywhere out of this world."

"You speak as if you had been agitated or frightened; but compose yourself, you are now under my protection at last, and you shall want for nothing that can contribute to your ease and comfort. Upon my honor--upon my sacred honor, I say--I would not have caused you even this annoyance, were it not that you yourself expressed a willingness--very natural, indeed, considering our affection--to meet me here to-night."

"Who tould you that I was willin' to meet you?"

"Who? why who but our mutual friend, the Black Prophet; and by the way, he is to meet us at the Grey Stone, by and by."

"He tould you false, then," replied his companion, feebly.

"Why," asked Henderson, "are you not here with your own consent?"

"I am--oh, indeed, I am,--it's altogether my own act that brings me here--my own act--an' I thank G.o.d, that I had strength for it."

"Admirable girl!--that is just what I have been led to expect from you, and you shall not regret it; I have, as I said, everything provided that can make you happy."

"Happy!--I can't bear this, sir; I'm desavin' you. I'm not what you think me."

"You are ill, I fear, my dear Miss Sullivan; the bustle and disturbance have agitated you too much, and you are ill."

"You are speaking truth. I am very ill; but I'll soon be better--I'll soon be better. She feared nothing from me," added she, in a low soliloquy; "an' could I let her outdo mo in generosity and kindness. Is this fire? Is there fire in the coach?" she asked, in a loud voice; "or is it lighthnin'? Oh, my head, my head; but it will soon be over."

"Compose yourself, I entreat of you, my dearest girl. What! good Heavens, how is this? You have not been ill for any time? Your hand--pardon me; you need not withdraw it so hastily--is quite burning and fleshless. What is wrong?"

"Everything, sir, is wrong, unless that I am here, an' that is as it ought to be. Ha, ha!"

"Good, my dearest girl--that consoles me again. Upon my honor, the old Prophet shall not lose by this; on the contrary, I shall keep my word like a prince, and at the Grey Stone shall he pocket, ere half an hour, the reward of his allegiance to his liege lord. I have, for a long time, had my eye on you, Miss Sullivan, an' when the Prophet a.s.sured me that you had discarded Dalton for my sake, I could scarcely credit him, until you confirmed the delightful fact, by transmitting me a tress of your beautiful hair."

His companion made no reply to this, and the chaise went on for some minutes without any further discourse. Henderson, at length, ventured to put over his hand towards the corner in which his companion sat; but it no sooner came in contact with her person, than he felt her shrinking, as it were, from his very touch. With his usual complacent confidence, however, in his own powers of attraction and strongly impressed, besides, with a belief in his knowledge of the s.e.x, he at once imputed all this to caprice on the behalf of Mave, or rather to that a.s.sumption of extreme delicacy, which is often resorted to, and overacted, when the truthful and modest principle from which it should originate has ceased to exist.

"Well, my dear girl," he proceeded, "I grant that all this is natural enough--quite so--I know the step you have taken shows great strength of character; for indeed it requires a very high degree of moral courage and virtue in you, to set society and the whole world at perfect defiance, for my sake; but, my dearest girl, don't be cast down--you are not alone in this heroic sacrifice; not at all, believe me. You are not the first who has made it for me; neither, I trust, shall you be the last. This I say, of course, to encourage you, because I see that the step you have taken has affected you very much, as is natural it should."

A low moan, apparently of great pain, was the only reply Henderson received to this eloquent effort at consolation. The carriage again rolled onward in silence, and nothing could be heard but the sweep of the storm without--for it blew violently--and deep breathings, or occasional moanings, from his companion within. They drove, it might be, for a quarter of an hour, in this way, when Henderson felt his companion start, and the next moment her hand was placed upon his arm.

"Ha! ha! my dearest," thought he, "I knew, notwithstanding all your beautiful startings and fencings, that matters would come to this. There is nothing, after all, like leaving you to yourselves a little, and you are sure to come round. My dear Miss Sullivan," he added, aloud, "be composed--say but what it is you wish, and if a man can accomplish it, it must be complied with, or procured for you."

"Then," said she, "if you are a human being, let me know when we come to the Grey Stone."

"Undoubtedly, I shall. The grim old Prophet promised to meet us there--and, for a reason I have, I know he will keep his word. We shall be there in less than a quarter of an hour. But, my precious creature, now that you understand how we are placed with relation to each other, I think you might not, and ought not, object to allowing me to support you after the fatigue and agitation of the night--hem! Do repose your head upon my bosom, like a pretty, trembling, agitated dear, as you are."

"Hould away!" exclaimed his companion; "don't dare to lay a hand upon me. If your life is worth anything--an' it's not worth much--keep your distance. You'll find your mistake soon. I didn't put myself in your power without the manes of defendin' myself an' punis.h.i.+n' you, if you should desarve it."

"Beautiful caprice! But, my dearest girl, I can understand it all--it is well done; and I know, besides, that a little hysterics will be necessary in their proper place; but for that you must wait till we get to our destination; and then you will be most charmingly affected with a fit--a delightful, sweet, soft, sobbing fit--which will render it necessary for me to soothe and console you; to wipe your lovely eyes; and then, you know, to kiss your delicious lips. All this, my darling girl, will happen as a natural consequence, and in due time every thing will be well."

There was no reply given to this; but the moaning was deeper, and apparently more indicative of pain and distress than before. A third silence ensued, during which they arrived at the Grey Stone, of whose proximity the driver had received orders to give them intimation.

"Hallo!" exclaimed Henderson, "what's the matter? Why do you stop, my good fellow?"