"God help me, then," replied the poor young woman, "for, as to rent, sir, I have it not; and, indeed, Mr. M'Clutchy, what brought me here to-day, was to ask a little time, just till I get my butter made up and sold.
"Yes, but what can I do, Mrs. Tyrrell? I have no power to let any one off, even where I feel inclined, as I do in your case. It really is not in my power; Lord Cumber took care to leave me no discretion in the business at all."
"But surely, sir, you don't mean to say, that unless I pay the rent, you will seize upon my property.'
"This," said Val, as if to himself, "is really very distressing-- unfortunately, Mrs. Tyrrell, I must indeed, unless you can raise the money in some way; wouldn't your friends, for instance, stand by you, until your butter is made up?"
"I have no such friends," replied the poor woman, "them that would, arn't able; and them that are able, won't; and, that's only the way of the world, sir."
"It's too true, indeed, Mrs. Tyrrell; I am very sorry, exceedingly sorry, for what must be done. It is such circumstances as these that make me wish I never had become an agent."
"For God's sake, sir, have patience with me for about a month or six weeks, and I will be able to pay it all easily."
"If I was my own master," returned Val, "it would give me pleasure to do so, but I am not."
Here there was a groan from Solomon of compassion for the poor widow, followed by a second, which was clearly a comment upon the first. What a pity, said the first, to see so interesting a young widow without the means of paying her rent--and is it not a wicked and hard-hearted world, said the second that has not in it one individual to befriend her! Mrs.
Tyrrell looked round on hearing an expression of sympathy, and there was Solomon gazing on her with a look, in which admiration and sympathy were so well feigned, that she felt grateful to Solomon in her heart. As for Phil, whether he gazed at her, his father, or at the attorney, such was the comprehensive latitudinarianism of his squint, that she felt it impossible to tell; neither, indeed, did she care. She was now in tears, and Val having declared his determination to proceed, was silent, as if out of respect to her feelings. At length she rose up, and when on the eve of going out, she asked for the last time:--
"Mr. M'Clutchy is there no hope? I trust, sir, that when you consider how long my family and my husband have been living on this property, you'll think better of it than to bring myself and my poor orphan boy to beggary and ruin. What will become of him and myself!"
"D--n my honor, Mrs. Tyrrell, but I feel for you," said Phil, eagerly, as if rushing head foremost into a fit of the purest humanity.
"Do not be cast down, Mrs. Tyrrell," said Solomon, "there is one who can befriend the widow, and who will be a father to the fatherless. Rely on Him!--who knows but an instrument may be raised up for your relief.
Don't be thus cast down."
"No," said Phil, "do not, or you will only spoil them devlish fine eyes of yours, Mrs. Tyrrell, by crying. Come, come, father, you must give her,the time she asks; upon my honor, I'll guarantee she, won't disappoint.
"And, if he is not sufficient, I will join him," said Solomon; "you may rest upon her word, my friend, for I am satisfied that no serious falsehood's in the habit of proceeding from a mouth so sweet and comely in expression, as Mrs. Tyrrell's. Come, Val, have a heart, and be compassionate towards the fair widow."
"If you or Phil will pay the money," said M'Clutchy, "well and good; but you both know, that otherwise it is out of my power." There is a vast deal of acuteness of observation in Irish women, together with a quickness of perception, that sometimes resembles instinct. Mrs.
Tyrrell's purity of feeling and good sense were offended at the compliments which the attorney and Phil mixed up with the sympathy they expressed for her. She felt something jar disagreeably upon her natural delicacy, by their selecting the moment of her distress for giving utterance to language, which, coming at any time from either of them to one in her station of life, was improper; but, under the present circumstances, an insult, and an impertinent trifling with her affliction.
"Well," said she, without paying them the slightest attention, "I must say, Mr. M'Clutchy, that if you proceed as you threaten to do, your conduct towards me and my poor orphan will be such as I don't think you can justify either to God or man. I wish you good morning, sir; I have no more to say upon it."
"Oh, Mrs. Tyrrell, if you begin to abuse us and lay down the law on the matter, I have no more to say either."
She then went out, but had not left the hall, when Phil, following, said in a low, impudent, confidential tone--
"Don't be in a hurry, Mrs. Tyrrell, just step into the parlor for a few minutes, and we'll see what can be done--step in."
"No, sir," she replied, feeling very naturally offended at the familiarity of his manner, I will not step in; anything you have to, say you can say it here."
"Yes--but, then, they may overhear us. D--n my honor, but you're a very pretty woman, Mrs. Tyrrell, and I'd be sorry to see harsh, proceedings taken against you--that is, if we could understand one another. The scarlet hue of indignation had already overspread her face and temples, her eyes flashed, and her voice became firm and full.
"What do you mean, sir," she asked.
"Why," said he, "couldn't there be an understanding between us? In fact, Mrs. Tyrrell, you would find me a friend to you."
She made no reply but returned into the room.
"Mr. M'Clutchy," said she, "I thought that a woman--especially a poor, unprotected widow like me--might, at least, come into your house about her necessary business without being insulted; I thought that if there was one house above another where I ought to expect protection, it is yours. It's your duty, I think, to protect them that's livin' upon this property, and strugglin' to pay you, or him that employs you, the hard-earned rent that keeps them in poverty and hardship. I think, sir, it ought to be your duty, as I said, to protect me, and such as me, rather than leave us exposed to the abominable proposals of your son."
"How is this?" said Val; "where are you, Phil?"
Phil entered with a grin on him, that betrayed very clearly the morals of the father, as well as of himself. There was not the slightest appearance of shame or confusion about him; on the contrary, he looked upon the matter as a good joke, but, by no means, so good as if it had been successful.
"Phil," said his father, barely restraining a smile, "is it possible that you could dare to insult Mrs. Tyrrell under this roof?"
"D--n my honor, a confounded lie," replied Phil; "she wanted me to lend her the money, and because I did not, she told you I made proposals to her. All revenge and a lie."
Mrs. Tyrrell looked at him--"Well," said she, "if there is a just God in heaven, you will be made an example of yet. Oh! little they know that own this property, and every other property like it--of the insults, and hardships, and oppressions, that their tenantry must suffer in their absence from them that's placed over them; and without any one to protect them or appeal to for satisfaction or relief--sir, that villain in the shape of your son--that cowardly villain knows that the words he insulted me in are not yet cowld upon his lips."
"I have reason to put every confidence in what my son says," replied Val very coolly, "and he is not a villain, Mrs. Tyrrell--so I wish you a good morning, ma'am!"
This virtuous poor woman flushed with a sense of outraged modesty, with scorn and indignation, left the room; and with a distracted mind and a breaking heart, sought her orphan, whose innocent face of wonder she bedewed on her return home with tears of the bitterest sorrow.
It is not our intention to describe at full length the several melancholy scenes which occurred between poverty and dependence on one side and cold, cruel, insolent authority, on the other. It is needless and would be painful to tell how much age and helplessness suffered at the hands of these two persons; especially at those of Phil, whose chief delight appeared to consist in an authoritative display of pomp and natural cruelty.
The widow had not been more than a minute gone, when the door opened, and in walked, without note or preparation, a stout swarthy looking fellow named M'Clean. "Well, Tom," said Val, "is this you?"
"Brother M'Clean," said Solomon, "how are you?"
"What would ail me?" said M'Clean, "there's nothing wrong with me but what money could cure--if I had it."
"And you have no money, Tom!" said Val, smiling, "that, Tom, is a bad business--for we never wanted it more than we do at present. Seriously, have you the rent?"
"D--n the penny, brother M'Clutchy; and what's more, won't have it for at least three months."
"That's bad again, Tom. Any news?--any report?"
"Why, ay--there was a gun, or a pistol, or a pike, or something that way, seen with the Gallaghers of Kilscaddan."
"Ha--are you sure of that?"
"Not myself sure; but I heard it on good authority; but I think we had better make sure, by paying them a visit some night soon."
"We will talk about that," said Val; "but I am told that you treated priest Roche badly the other night. Is that true?"
"Why, what did you hear?" asked M'Clean.
"I heard you fired into his house; that you know was dangerous."
"All right," said Phil; "what right have. Popish priests to live under a Protestant government? By my sacred honor, I'd banish them like wild cats."
"No," said M'Clean, in reply to Val, "we did not; all we did was to play 'Croppies lie Down,' as we passed the house, and fire three volleys over it--not into it; but if there was e'er a one among us with a bad aim you know, that wasn't his fault or ours; ha--ha--by Japers," said he in a low, confidential whisper, "we frightened the seven senses out of him, at any rate--the bloody Papist rascal--for sure they are all that, and be d----d to them."
"Capital doctrine--and so they are, Tom; light, Tom; so you frightened the bog Latin out of him! ha! ha! ha!"