"But it"s not that, Anty--don"t you know it"s not that? Isn"t it because you"re afraid of him? because he threatened and frightened you?
And what on "arth could he do to harum you av" you was the wife of--of a man who"d, anyway, not let Barry Lynch, or anyone else, come between you and your comfort and aise?"
"But you don"t know how wretched I"ve been since he spoke to me about--about getting myself married: you don"t know what I"ve suffered; and I"ve a feeling that good would never come of it."
"And, afther all, are you going to tell me now, that I may jist go my own way? Is that to be your answer, and all I"m to get from you?"
"Don"t be angry with me, Martin. I"m maning to do everything for the best."
"Maning?--what"s the good of maning? Anyways, Anty, let me have an answer, for I"ll not be making a fool of myself any longer. Somehow, all the boys here, every sowl in Dunmore, has it that you and I is to be married--and now, afther promising me as you did--"
"Oh, I never promised, Martin."
"It was all one as a promise--and now I"m to be thrown overboard. And why?--because Barry Lynch got dhrunk, and frightened you. Av" I"d seen the ruffian striking you, I think I"d "ve been near putting it beyond him to strike another woman iver again."
"Glory be to G.o.d that you wasn"t near him that night," said Anty, crossing herself. "It was bad enough, but av" the two of you should ever be set fighting along of me, it would kill me outright."
"But who"s talking of fighting, Anty, dear?" and Martin drew a little nearer to her--"who"s talking of fighting? I never wish to spake another word to Barry the longest day that ever comes. Av" he"ll get out of my way, I"ll go bail he"ll not find me in his."
"But he wouldn"t get out of your way, nor get out of mine, av" you and I got married: he"d be in our way, and we"d be in his, and nothing could iver come of it but sorrow and misery, and maybe bloodshed."
"Them"s all a woman"s fears. Av" you an I were once spliced by the priest, G.o.d bless him, Barry wouldn"t trouble Dunmore long afther."
"That"s another rason, too. Why should I be dhriving him out of his own house? you know he"s a right to the house, as well as I."
"Who"s talking of dhriving him out? Faith, he"d be welcome to stay there long enough for me! He"d go, fast enough, without dhriving, though; you can"t say the counthry wouldn"t have a good riddhance of him. But never mind that, Anty: it wasn"t about Barry, one way or the other, I was thinking, when I first asked you to have me; nor it wasn"t about myself altogether, as I could let you know; though, in course, I"m not saying but that myself"s as dear to myself as another, an"
why not? But to tell the blessed truth, I was thinking av" you too; and that you"d be happier and asier, let alone betther an" more respecthable, as an honest man"s wife, as I"d make you, than being mewed up there in dread of your life, never daring to open your mouth to a Christian, for fear of your own brother, who niver did, nor niver will lift a hand to sarve you, though he wasn"t backward to lift it to sthrike you, woman and sisther though you were. Come, Anty, darlin," he added, after a pause, during which he managed to get his arm behind her back, though he couldn"t be said to have it fairly round her waist--"Get quit of all these quandaries, and say at once, like an honest girl, you"ll do what I"m asking--and what no living man can hindher you from or say against it.--Or else jist fairly say you won"t, and I"ll have done with it."
Anty sat silent, for she didn"t like to say she wouldn"t; and she thought of her brother"s threats, and was afraid to say she would.
Martin advanced a little in his proceedings, however, and now succeeded in getting his arm round her waist--and, having done so, he wasn"t slow in letting her feel its pressure. She made an attempt, with her hand, to disengage herself--certainly not a successful, and, probably, not a very energetic attempt, when the widow"s step was heard on the stairs.
Martin retreated from his position on the sofa, and Meg from hers outside the door, and Mrs Kelly entered the room, with Barry"s letter in her hand, Meg following, to ascertain the cause of the unfortunate interruption.
XVIII. AN ATTORNEY"S OFFICE IN CONNAUGHT
"Anty, here"s a letter for ye," began the widow. "Terry"s brought it down from the house, and says it"s from Misther Barry. I b"lieve he was in the right not to bring it hisself."
"A letther for me, Mrs Kelly? what can he be writing about? I don"t just know whether I ought to open it or no;" and Anty trembled, as she turned the epistle over and over again in her hands.
"What for would you not open it? The letther can"t hurt you, girl, whatever the writher might do."
Thus encouraged, Anty broke the seal, and made herself acquainted with the contents of the letter which Daly had dictated; but she then found that her difficulties had only just commenced. Was she to send an answer, and if so, what answer? And if she sent none, what notice ought she to take of it? The matter was one evidently too weighty to be settled by her own judgment, so she handed the letter to be read, first by the widow, and then by Martin, and lastly by the two girls, who, by this time, were both in the room.
"Well, the dethermined impudence of that blackguard!" exclaimed Mrs Kelly. "Conspiracy!--av" that don"t bang Banagher! What does the man mean by "conspiracy," eh, Martin?"
"Faith, you must ask himself that, mother; and then it"s ten to one he can"t tell you."
"I suppose," said Meg, "he wants to say that we"re all schaming to rob Anty of her money--only he daren"t, for the life of him, spake it out straight forrard."
"Or, maybe," suggested Jane, "he wants to bring something agen us like this affair of O"Connell"s--only he"ll find, down here, that he an"t got Dublin soft goods to deal wid."
Then followed a consultation, as to the proper steps to be taken in the matter.
The widow advised that father Geoghegan should be sent for to indite such a reply as a Christian ill-used woman should send to so base a letter. Meg, who was very hot on the subject, and who had read of some such proceeding in a novel, was for putting up in a blank envelope the letter itself, and returning it to Barry by the hands of Jack, the ostler; at the same time, she declared that "No surrender" should be her motto. Jane was of opinion that "Miss Anastasia Lynch"s compliments to Mr Barry Lynch, and she didn"t find herself strong enough to move to Dunmore House at present," would answer all purposes, and be, on the whole, the safest course. While Martin p.r.o.nounced that "if Anty would be led by him, she"d just pitch the letter behind the fire an" take no notice of it, good, bad, or indifferent."
None of these plans pleased Anty, for, as she remarked, "After all, Barry was her brother, and blood was thickher than wather." So, after much consultation, pen, ink, and paper were procured, and the following letter was concocted between them, all the soft bits having been great stumbling-blocks, in which, however, Anty"s quiet perseverance carried the point, in opposition to the wishes of all the Kellys. The words put in brackets were those peculiarly objected to.
Dunmore Inn. February, 1844.
DEAR BARRY,
I (am very sorry I) can"t come back to the house, at any rate just at present. I am not very sthrong in health, and there are kind female friends about me here, which you know there couldn"t be up at the house.
Anty herself, in the original draft inserted "ladies," but the widow"s good sense repudiated the term, and insisted on the word "females": Jane suggested that "females" did not sound quite respectful alone, and Martin thought that Anty might call them "female friends," which was consequently done.
--Besides, there are reasons why I"m quieter here, till things are a little more settled. I will forgive (and forget) all that happened up at the house between us--
"Why, you can"t forget it," said Meg. "Oh, I could, av" he was kind to me. I"d forget it all in a week av" he was kind to me," answered Anty--
(and I will do nothing particular without first letting you know).
They were all loud against this paragraph, but they could not carry their point.
I must tell you, dear Barry, that you are very much mistaken about the people of this house: they are dear, kind friends to me, and, wherever I am, I must love them to the last day of my life--but indeed I am, and hope you believe so,
Your affectionate sister,
ANASTASIA LYNCH.
When the last paragraph was read over Anty"s shoulder, Meg declared she was a dear, dear creature: Jane gave her a big kiss, and began crying; even the widow put the corner of her ap.r.o.n to her eye, and Martin, trying to look manly and unconcerned, declared that he was "quite shure they all loved her, and they"d be brutes and bastes av" they didn"t!"
The letter, as given above, was finally decided on; written, sealed, and despatched by Jack, who was desired to be very particular to deliver it at the front door, with Miss Lynch"s love, which was accordingly done. All the care, however, which had been bestowed on it did not make it palatable to Barry, who was alone when he received it, and merely muttered, as he read it, "Confound her, low-minded s.l.u.t!
friends, indeed! what business has she with friends, except such as I please?--if I"d the choosing of her friends, they"d be a strait waistcoat, and the madhouse doctor. Good Heaven! that half my property--no, but two-thirds of it,--should belong to her!--the stupid, stiff-necked robber!"
These last pleasant epithets had reference to his respected progenitor.
On the same evening, after tea, Martin endeavoured to make a little further advance with Anty, for he felt that he had been interrupted just as she was coming round; but her nerves were again disordered, and he soon found that if he pressed her now, he should only get a decided negative, which he might find it very difficult to induce her to revoke.