Chapter XV: Part VII (2)

Bartle Flanagan, we need scarcely say, was well guarded until a posse of constables should arrive to take him into custody. But, in the mean time, a large and increasing party sat up in the house of the worthy Bodagh; for the neighbors had been alarmed, and came flocking to his aid. 'Tis true, the danger was now over; but the kind Bodagh, thankful in his heart to the Almighty for the escape of his daughter, would not let them go without first partaking of his hospitality. His wife, too, for the same reason, was in a flutter of delight; and as her heart was as Irish as her husband's, and consequently as hospitable, so did she stir about, and work, and order right and left until abundant refreshments were smoking on the table. Nor was the gentle and melancholy Una herself, now that the snake was at all events scotched, averse to show herself among them--for so they would have it. Biddy Nulty had washed her face; and, notwithstanding the poultice of stirabout which her mistress with her own hands applied to her wound, she really was the most interesting person present, in consequence of her heroism during the recent outrage. After a glass of punch had gone round, she waxed inveterately eloquent, indeed, so much so that the mourner, the colleen dhas dhun, herself was more than once forced to smile, and in some instances fairly to laugh at the odd grotesque spirit of her descriptions.

“The rascal was quick!” said the Bodagh, “but upon my credit, Biddy, you wor a pop afore him for all that. Divil a thing I, or John, or the others, could do wid only one gun an' a case o' pistols against so many--still we would have fought life or death for poor Una anyhow. But Biddy, here, good girl, by her cleverness and invention saved us the danger, an' maybe was the manes of savin' some of our lives or theirs. God knows I'd have no relish to be shot myself,” said the pacific Bodagh, “nor would I ever have a day or night's pace if I had the blood of a fellow-crathur on my sowl--upon my sowl I wouldn't.”

“But, blood alive, masther, what could I 'a' done only for Ned M'Cormick, that gave us the hard word?” said Biddy, anxious to transfer the merit of the transaction to her lover.

“Well, well, Bid,” replied the Bodagh, “maybe neither Ned nor yourself will be a loser by it. If you're bent on layin' your heads together we'll find you a weddin' present, anyway.”

“Bedad, sir, I'm puzzled to know how they got in so aisy,” said Ned.

“That matter remains to be cleared up yet,” said John. “There is certainly treachery in the camp somewhere.”

“I am cock sure the hall--door was not latched,” said Duffy; “for they had neither stop nor stay at it.”

“There is a villing among us sartainly,” observed Mrs. O'Brien; “for as heaving is above me, I locked it wid my own two hands this blessed night.”

“I thought it might be wid the kay, Bridget,” said the Bodagh, laughing at his own easy joke; “for you see, doors is ginerally locked wid kays--ha! ha! ha!”

“Faix, but had Oona been tuck away tonight wid that vag o' the world, it's not laughin' you'd be.”

“God, He sees, that's only thruth, too, Bridget,” he replied; “but still there's some rogue about the place that opened the door for the villins.”

“_Dar ma chuirp_, I'll hould goold I put the saddle on the right horse in no time,” said Biddy. “Misthress, will you call Kitty Lowry, ma'am, i' you plase? Ill do everything above boord; no behind backs for me; blazes to the one alive hates foul play more nor I do.”

We ought to have observed that one of Biddy's peculiarities was a more than usual readiness at letting fly, and not unfrequently at giving an oath; and as her character presented a strange compound of simplicity and cleverness, honesty and adroitness, her master and mistress, and fellow-servants, were frequently amused by this unfeminine propensity. For instance, if Una happened to ask her, “Biddy, did you iron the linen?” her usual reply was, “No, blast the iron, miss, I hadn't time.” Of course the family did everything in their power to discourage such a practice; but on this point they found it impossible to reform her. Kitty Lowry's countenance, when she appeared, certainly presented strong indications of guilt; but still there was a hardness of outline about it which gave promise at the same time of the most intrepid assurance. Biddy, on the. other hand, was brimful of consequence, and a sense of authority, on finding that the judicial power was on this occasion entrusted chiefly to her hands. She rose up when Kitty entered, and stuck a pair of red formidable fists with great energy into her sides.

“Pray ma'am,” said she, “what's the raisin' you refused to let me in to-night, afther gettin' away wid my life from that netarnal blackguard, Bartle Flanagan--what's the raisin I say, ma'am, that you kep' me out afther you knewn who was in it?”

There was here visible a slight vibration of the head, rather gentle at the beginning, but clearly prophetic of ultimate energy, and an unequivocal determination to enforce whatever she might say with suitable action even in its widest sense.

“An' pray, ma'am,” said the other, for however paradoxical it may appear, it is an established case that in all such displays between women, politeness usually keeps pace with scurrility; “An' pray, ma'am,” replied Kitty, “is it to the likes o' you we're to say our catechize?”

Biddy was resolved not to be outdone in politeness, and replied--

“Af you plaise, ma'am,” with a courtesy.

“Lord protect us! what will we hear next, I wondher? Well, ma'am?” Here her antagonist stood, evidently waiting for the onset.

“You'll hear more than'll go down your back pleasant afore I've done wid you, ma'am.”

“Don't be makin' us long for it in the mane time, Miss Biddy.”

“You didn't answer my question, Miss Kitty. Why did you refuse to let me in tonight?”

“For good raisons--bekase I--hard you cologgin' an' whisperin' wid a pack of fellows without.”

“An' have you the brass to say so, knowin' that it's false an' a lie into the bargain?” (Head energetically shaken.)

“Have I the brass, is it? I keep my brass in my pocket, ma'am, not in my face, like some of our friends.” (Head shaken in reply to the action displayed by Kitty.)

This was a sharp retort; but it was very well returned.

“Thank you, ma'am,” replied Biddy, “if it's faces you're spakin' about, I know you're able to outface me any day; but whatever's in my face there's no desate in my heart, Miss Lowry. Put that in your pocket.” (One triumphant shake of the head at the conclusion.)

“There's as much in your heart as'll shame your face, yet, Miss Nulty. Put that in yours.” (Another triumphant shake of the head.)

“Thank God,” retorted Biddy, “none o' my friends ever knewn what a shamed face is. I say, madam, none o' _my_ family iver wore a shamed face. _Thiguthu shin?_” (Do you understand that? )

This, indeed, was a bitter hit; for the reader must know that a sister of Lowry's had not passed through the world without the breath of slander tarnishing her fair fame.

“Oh, it's well known your tongue's no slander, Biddy.”

“Thin that's more than can be said of yours, Kitty.”

“If my sisther met with a misfortune, it was many a betther woman's case than ever you'll be. Don't shout till you get out of the wood, ma'am. You dunna what's afore yourself. Any how, it's not be lettin' fellows into the masther's kitchen whiff the family's in bed, an' dhrinkin' whiskey wid them, that'll get you through the world wid your character safe. * * * An' you're nothin' but a barge, or you'd not dhraw down my sisther's name that never did you an ill turn, whatever she did to herself, poor girl!”

“An' do you dar' for to call me a barge? * * * * Blast your insurance! be this an' be that, for a farden I'd malivogue the devil out o' you.”

“We're not puttin' it past you, madam, you're blaggard enough to fight like a man; but we're not goin' to make a blaggard an' a bully of ourselves, in the mane time.”

[The conversation, of which we are giving a very imperfect report, was garnished by both ladies with sundry vituperative epithets, which it would be inconsistent with the dignity of our history to record.]

“That's bekase you haven't the blood of a hen in you * * * sure we know what you are! But howld! be me sowl, you're doin' me for all that. Ah, ha! I see where you're ladin' me; but it won't do, Miss Kitty Lowry. I'll bring you back to the catechize agin. You'd light the straw to get away in the smoke; but you're worth two gone people yet, dhough.”

“Worth half a dozen o' you, any day.”

“Well, as we're both to the fore, we'll soon see that. How did you know, my lady, that the masther's hall door was left open to-night? Answer me that, on the nail!”

This was what might be very properly called a knock-down blow; for if the reader but reflects a moment he will see that Kitty, on taxing her antagonist, after her rescue, with leaving it open, directly betrayed herself, as there was and could have been no one in the house cognizant of the fact at the time unless the guilty person. With this latter exception, Alick Nulty was the, only individual aware of it, and from whom the knowledge of it could come. Kitty, therefore, by her over-anxiety to exculpate herself from a charge which had not been made, became the unconscious instrument I of disclosing the fact of her having left the door open.

This trying query, coming upon her unexpectedly as it did, threw her into palpable confusion. Her face became at once suffused with a deep scarlet hue, occasioned by mingled shame and resentment, as was at once evident from the malignant and fiery glare which she turned upon her querist.

“Get out,” she replied; “do you think I'd think it worth my while to answer the likes o' you? I'd see you farther than I could look first. You, indeed! faugh! musha bad luck to your impidence!”

“Oh, i' you plaise, ma'am,” said Biddy, dropping a courtesy, that might well be termed the very pink of politeness--“we hope you'll show yourself a betther Christin than to be ignorant o' your catechize. So. ma'am, if it 'ud be plaisin' to you afore the company maybe you'd answer it.”

“Who made you my misthress, you blaggard flipe? who gave you authority to ax me sich a question?” replied the other. “A fellow-servant like myself! to the devil I pitch you. You, indeed! Faix, it's well come up wid the likes o' you to ballyrag over me.”

“Well, but ma'am dear, will you answer--that is, i' you plaise, for sure we can't forget our manners, you know--will you jist answer what I axed you? Oh, be me cowl, your face condimns you, my lady!” said Biddy, abruptly changing her tone; “it does, you yolla Mullatty, it does. You bethrayed the masther's house, an' Miss Oona, too, you villin o' blazes! If you could see your face now--your guilty face!”

The spirit of her antagonist, being that of a woman, could bear no more. The last words were scarcely uttered, when Lowry made a spring like a tigress at her opponent, who, however, received this onset with a skill and intrepidity worthy of Penthesilea herself. They were immediately separated, but not until they had twisted and twined about one another two or three times, after which, each displayed, by way of a trophy, a copious handful of hair that had changed proprietor-ship during their brief but energetic conflict.

In addition to this, there were visible on Kitty's face five small streams of liquid gore, which, no doubt, would have been found to correspond with the red expanded talons of her antagonist.

John O'Brien then put the question seriously to Lowry, who, now that her blood was up, or probably feeling that she had betrayed herself, declined to answer it at all.

“I'll answer nothin' I don't like,” she replied, “an' I'll not be ballyraged by any one--not even by you, Misther John; an' what's more, I'll lave the sarvice at the shriek o' day to-morrow. I wouldn't live in the house wid that one; my life 'udn't be safe undher the wan roof wid her.”

“Thin you'll get no carrecther from any one here,” said Mrs. O'Brien; “for, indeed, any way, there was never a minute's peace in the kitchen since you came into it.”

“Divil cares,” she replied, with a toss of her head; “if I don't, I must only live widout it, and will, I hope.”

She then flounced out of the room, and kept grumbling in an insolent tone of voice, until she got to her bed. Alick Nulty then detailed all the circumstances he had witnessed, by which it appeared unquestionable that Kitty Lowry had been aware of Flanagan's design, and was consequently one of his accomplices. This in one sense was true, whilst in another and the worst they did her injustice. It is true that Bartle Flanagan pretended affection for her, and contrived on many occasions within the preceding five months, that several secret meetings should take place between them, and almost always upon a Sunday, which was the only day she had any opportunity of seeing him. He had no notion, however, of entrusting her with his secret. In fact, no man could possibly lay his plans with deeper design or more ingenious precaution for his own safety than Flanagan. Having gained a promise from the credulous girl to elope with him on the night in question, he easily induced her to leave the hall door open. His exploit, however, having turned out so different in its issue from that which Kitty expected, she felt both chagrined and confounded, and knew not at first whether to ascribe the abduction of Biddy Nulty to mistake or design; for, indeed, she was not ignorant of Flanagan's treacherous conduct to the sex--no female having ever repulsed him, whose character he did not injure whenever he could do so with safety. Biddy's return, however, satisfied her that Bartle must have made a blunder of some kind, or he would not have taken away her fellow-servant instead of herself; and it was the bitterness which weak minds always feel when their own wishes happen to be disappointed, that prompted her resentment against poor Biddy, who was unconsciously its object. Flanagan's primary intention was still, however, in some degree, effected, so far as it regarded the abduction. The short space of an hour gave him time to cool and collect himself sufficiently to form the best mode of action under the circumstances. He resolved, therefore, to plead mistake, and to produce Kitty Lowry to prove that his visit that night to the Bodagh's house was merely to fulfil their mutual promise of eloping together.

But there was the robbery staring him in the face; and how was he to manage that? This, indeed, was the point on which the accomplished villain felt by the sinking of his heart that he had overshot his mark. When he looked closely into it, his whole frame became cold and feeble from despair, the hard paleness of mental suffering settled upon his face, and his brain was stunned by a stupor which almost destroyed the power of thinking.

All this, however, availed him not. Before twelve o'clock the next day informations had been sworn against him, and at the hour of three he found himself in the very room which had been assigned to Connor O'Donovan, sinking under the double charge of abduction and robbery.

And now once more did the mutability of public feeling and opinion as usual become apparent. No sooner had fame spread abroad the report of Flanagan's two-fold crime, and his imprisonment, than those very people who had only a day or two before inferred that Connor O'Donovan was guilty, because his accuser's conduct continued correct and blameless, now changed their tone, and insisted that the hand of God was visible in Flanagan's punishment. Again were all the dark traits of his character dragged forward and exposed; and this man reminded that man, as that man did some other man, that he had said more than once that Bartle Flanagan would be hanged for swearing away an innocent young man's life. Such, however, without reference to truth or justice, is public opinion among a great body of the people, who are swayed by their feelings only, instead of their judgment. The lower public will, as a matter of course, feel at random upon everything, and like a fortuneteller, it will for that reason, and for that only, sometimes be found on the right side. From the time which elapsed between the period of Bartle's imprisonment and that of his trial, many strange circumstances occurred in connection with it, of which the public at large were completely ignorant. Bartle was now at the mercy of a man who had been long looked upon with a spirit of detestation and vengeance by those illegal confederations with which he had uniformly declined to associate himself. Flanagan's party, therefore, had now only two methods of serving him, one was intimidation, and the other a general subscription among the various lodges of the district, to raise funds for his defence. To both of these means they were resolved to have recourse.

Many private meetings they held among themselves upon those important matters, at which Dandy Duff and Ned M'Cormick attended, as was their duty; and well was it for them the part they took in defeating Bartle Flanagan, and serving the Bodagh and his family, was unknown to their confederates. To detail the proceedings of their meetings, and recount the savage and vindictive ferocity of such men, would be pacing the taste and humanity of our readers a bad compliment. It is enough to say that a fund was raised for Flanagan's defence, and a threatening notice written to be pasted on the Bodagh Buie's door--of which elegant production the following is a literal copy:--

“Buddha Bee--You 'ave wan iv our boys in for abjection an' rubbry--an' it seems is resolved to parsequte the poor boy at the nuxt 'Shizers--now dhis is be way av a dalikit hint to yew an' yoos that aff butt wan spudh av his blud is spiled in quensequence av yewr parsequtin' im as the winther's comin' on an' the wether gettin' cowld an' the long nights settin' in yew may as well prapare yewr caughin an' not that same remimber you've a praty dother an may no more about her afore you much shoulder.

“Simon Pettier Staeught.”

This and several others of the same class were served upon the Bodagh, with the intention of intimidating him from the prosecution of Flanagan. They had, however, quite mistaken their man. The Bodagh, though peaceable and placable, had not one atom of the coward in his whole composition. On the contrary, he was not only resolute in resisting what he conceived to be oppressive or unjust, but he was also immovably obstinate in anything wherein he fancied he had right on his side. And even had his disposition been inclined to timidity or pliancy, his son John would have used all his influence to induce him to resist a system which is equally opposed to the laws of God and of man, as well as to the temporal happiness of those who are slaves to the terrible power which, like a familiar devil, it exercises over its victims under the hollow promise of protection.