while you're let. You'll find you'll have the worst of it, av' you come rampaging here wid me, my man;" and she turned round to the listening crowd for sympathy, which those who dared were not slow in giving her.
"And that's thrue for you, Mrs Kelly, Ma'am," exclaimed one.
"It's a shame for him to come storming here, agin a lone widdy, so it is," said a virago, who seemed well able, like the widow herself, to take her own part.
"Who iver knew any good of a Lynch—barring Miss Anty herself?" argued a third.
"The Kellys is always too good for the likes of them," put in a fourth, presuming that the intended marriage was the subject immediately in discourse.
"Faix, Mr Martin's too good for the best of 'em," declared another.
"Niver mind Mr Martin, boys," said the widow, who wasn't well pleased to have her son's name mentioned in the affair—"it's no business of his, one way or another; he ain't in Dunmore, nor yet nigh it. Miss Anty Lynch has come to me for protection; and, by the Blessed Virgin, she shall have it, as long as my name's Mary Kelly, and I ain't like to change it; so that's the long and short of it, Barry Lynch. So you may go and get dhrunk agin as soon as you plaze, and bate and bang Terry Rooney, or Judy Smith; only I think either on 'em's more than a match for you."
"Then I tell you, Mrs Kelly," replied Barry, who was hardly able to get in a word, "that you'll hear more about it. Steps are now being taken to prove Miss Lynch a lunatic, as every one here knows she unfortunately is; and, as sure as you stand there, you'll have to answer for detaining her; and you're much mistaken if you think you'll get hold of her property, even though she were to marry your son, for, I warn you, she's not her own mistress, or able to be so."
"Drat your impudence, you low-born ruffian," answered his opponent; "who cares for her money? It's not come to that yet, that a Kelly is wanting to schame money out of a Lynch."
"I've nothing more to say, since you insist on keeping possession of my sister," and Barry turned to the door. "But you'll be indicted for conspiracy, so you'd better be prepared."
"Conspiracy, is it?" said one of Mrs Kelly's admirers; "maybe, Ma'am, he'll get you put in along with Dan and Father Tierney, God bless them! It's conspiracy they're afore the judges for."
Barry now took himself off, before hearing the last of the widow's final peal of thunder.
"Get out wid you! You're no good, and never will be. An' it wasn't for the young woman upstairs, I'd have the coat off your back, and your face well mauled, before I let you out of the shop!" And so ended the interview, in which the anxious brother can hardly be said to have been triumphant, or successful.
The widow, on the other hand, seemed to feel that she had acquitted herself well, and that she had taken the orphan's part, like a woman, a Christian, and a mother; and merely saying, with a kind of inward chuckle, "Come to me, indeed, with his roguery! he's got the wrong pig by the ear!" she walked off, to join the more timid trio upstairs, one of whom was speedily sent down, to see that business did not go astray.
And then she gave a long account of the interview to Anty and Meg, which was hardly necessary, as they had heard most of what had passed. The widow however was not to know that, and she was very voluble in her description of Barry's insolence, and of the dreadfully abusive things he had said to her—how he had given her the lie, and called her out of her name. She did not, however, seem to be aware that she had, herself, said a word which was more than necessarily violent; and assured Anty over and over again, that, out of respect to her feelings, and because the man was, after all, her brother, she had refrained from doing and saying what she would have done and said, had she been treated in such a manner by anybody else. She seemed, however, in spite of the ill-treatment which she had undergone, to be in a serene and happy state of mind. She shook Anty's two hands in hers, and told her to make herself "snug and asy where she was, like a dear girl, and to fret for nothing, for no one could hurt or harum her, and she undher Mary Kelly's roof." Then she wiped her face in her apron, set to at her dinner; and even went so far as to drink a glass of porter, a thing she hadn't done, except on a Sunday, since her eldest daughter's marriage.
Barry Lynch sneaked up the town, like a beaten dog. He felt that the widow had had the best of it, and he also felt that every one in Dunmore was against him. It was however only what he had expected, and calculated upon; and what should he care for the Dunmore people? They wouldn't rise up and kill him, nor would they be likely even to injure him. Let them hate on, he would follow his own plan. As he came near the house gate, there was sitting, as usual, Jacky, the fool.
"Well, yer honer, Masther Barry," said Jacky, "don't forget your poor fool this blessed morning!"
"Away with you! If I see you there again, I'll have you in Bridewell, you blackguard."
"Ah, you're joking, Masther Barry. You wouldn't like to be afther doing that. So yer honer's been down to the widdy's? That's well; it's a fine thing to see you on good terms, since you're soon like to be so sib. Well, there an't no betther fellow, from this to Galway, than Martin Kelly, that's one comfort, Masther Barry."
Barry looked round for something wherewith to avenge himself for this, but Jacky was out of his reach; so he merely muttered some customary but inaudible curses, and turned into the house.
He immediately took pen, ink, and paper, and, writing the following note dispatched it to Tuam, by Terry, mounted for the occasion, and directed on no account to return without an answer. If Mr Daly wasn't at home, he was to wait for his return; that is, if he was expected home that night.
Dunmore House, Feb. 1844.
My dear Sir,
I wish to consult you on legal business, which will bear no delay. The subject is of considerable importance, and I am induced to think it will be more ably handled by you than by Mr Blake, my father's man of business. There is a bed at your service at Dunmore House, and I shall be glad to see you to dinner to-morrow. I am, dear Sir, Your faithful servant, BARRY LYNCH. P.S.—You had better not mention in Tuam that you are coming to me,—not that my business is one that I intend to keep secret. J. Daly, Esq., Solicitor, Tuam.
In about two hours' time, Terry had put the above into the hands of the person for whom it was intended, and in two more he had brought back an answer, saying that Mr Daly would be at Dunmore House to dinner on the following day. And Terry, on his journey there and back, did not forget to tell everyone he saw, from whom he came, and to whom he was going.
VIII
MR MARTIN KELLY RETURNS TO DUNMORE
We will now return to Martin Kelly. I have before said that as soon as he had completed his legal business,—namely, his instructions for the settlement of Anty Lynch's property, respecting which he and Lord Ballindine had been together to the lawyer's in Clare Street,—he started for home, by the Ballinasloe canal-boat, and reached that famous depôt of the fleecy tribe without adventure. I will not attempt to describe the tedium of that horrid voyage, for it has been often described before; and to Martin, who was in no ways fastidious, it was not so unendurable as it must always be to those who have been accustomed to more rapid movement. Nor yet will I attempt to put on record the miserable resources of those, who, doomed to a twenty hours' sojourn in one of these floating prisons, vainly endeavour to occupy
