"Ha--ha--ha--by my sowl we did, and more maybe, if it was known; I must be off now."
"Go and help yourself to a bumper of spirits before you go," said Val; "and, Tom, keep a sharp lookout, and whenever you find, or hear of arms, let me know immediately."
Tom only nodded to that, as he put the glass to his lips; "gentlemen,"
said he, "your healths; here's no Popery! no surrender!" saying which, he deposited the empty glass on the table, giving the same time two or three short coughs occasioned by the strength of the liquor. "Good morning, gentlemen--brother, M'Slime"--he voiced and nodded significantly at Solomon, then added--"good people are scarce; so be a good boy and take care of yourself."
"Now, Tom, be a good fellow and don't forget the rent," said Val; Tom nodded again, for it was a habit he had, and departed.
The next person who presented himself was a little, meagre, thin looking man, with a dry, serious air about him, that seemed to mark him as a kind of curiosity in his way. From the moment he entered, Solomon seemed to shrink up into half his ordinary dimensions, nor did the stranger seem unconscious of this, if one could judge by the pungent expression of his small gray eyes which were fastened on Solomon with a bitter significance that indicated such a community of knowledge as did not seem to be pleasant to either of them.
"Ah, Sam Wallace," said Val, "always punctual, and never more welcome than now; scraping and scrambling we are, Sam, to make up the demand for the landlord."
"What way ir ye, Mr. M'Clutchy; am gled to see ye luck so well; I a-am indeed."
"Thank you, Sam. How are all your family."
"Deed, as well as can be expected under the stain that's over us."
"Stain! What do you mean, Sam?"
"Feth, a main what's purty well known; that misfortune that befell our daughter Susanna."
"Dear me, Sam, how was that?"
"The way of it was this--she went as a children's maid into a religious femily"--here the two glittering eyes were fiercely fastened upon Solomon--"where she became a serious young person of decided piety, as they call it--an' h--l till me, but another month will make it decided enough---well, sir, deel a long she was there till the saint, her masther, made a sinner of her, and now she's likely to have her gifts, such as they ir.
"I am very sorry to hear this, Sam; but, surely the man who seduced your daughter does not deserve to be called religious."
"Disn't he, feth? why, Lord bless you, sure it was all done in a religious way--they sang psalms together, prayed together, read the Bible together, and now the truth is, that the consequence will be speaking for itself some of these days."
Here another fiery look was darted at Solomon, who appeared deeply engaged among leases, papers, and such other documents as were before him.
"It's a bad business certainly, Sam--but now about the rent?"
"Hut! de'il a penny o' rent I have--hell take the tester; and yet, for all that, all pay you afore a laive the room--what do you think of that?"
"I don't understand it, Sam."
"Now," said Sam, going over to Solomon, "you'll pay Mr. M'Clutchy the sum of twelve pounds, fourteen, and three pence for me, Mr. M'Slime--if you please, sir."
There was a peremptory tone in his words, which, joined to the glittering look he riveted on Solomon, actually fascinated that worthy gentleman.
"My friend," replied Solomon, taking out his pocket-book, and seeming to look for a memorandum, "you have made a slight mistake against yourself; the sum, I find, is twelve pounds, seventeen, and three pence, so that you have made a slight mistake of three shillings, as I said, against yourself."
"Do you pay the half year's rent, which is the sum, I say, and you may give the three shillings in charity, which I know you will do."
"Shall I fill the receipt," asked Val, looking to Solomon.
"Fill it," said the other, "I am very glad I happened to have so much about me, poor man."
"So am I," returned Sam, significantly.
Solomon rose, and with all the calmness of manner which he could assume, laid the money down before M'Clutchy.
"Try," said he, "if that is right."
"Show here," said Sam, "ail reckon em;" and having done so, he put one particular note in his pocket--"Never you mind," he added, addressing himself to Val, "I'll give you another note for this;" and he winked significantly as he spoke. He accordingly did so, and having paid the money and received his receipt, he bid them goodbye, once more winking, and touching his waistcoat pocket as he went. He had not been long gone, however, when Solomon once more examined his pocket-book, and in a tone which no pen could describe, exclaimed, "verily, the ways of Providence are wonderful! Will you look again at that money?" said he--"I have given away a note for ten pounds instead of a note for one."
"It is not here, then," replied Val, "but I'll venture to say that Sam, the knave, put it in his pocket when he made the exchange."
"Shall I call him back?" said Phil, "there he goes towards the gate."
"No," replied the other, "I have great reliance on Sam's honesty. He will return it no doubt on perceiving the mistake, or if not, I shall send to him for it. Yes, I know Sam is honest--truly the ways of Providence are wonderful."
So saying, with a visage peculiarly rueful and mortified, he closed his book and put it in his pocket.
The last person whom we shall notice was Brian M'Loughlin, on whose features care had recently made a deep impression. On being asked to sit, he declined--"I thank you," said he, "my visit will be but a short one, and what I have to say, I can say standing."
"That as you please, Mr. M'Loughlin; shall I fill your receipts?"
"No," replied the other, "I simply came to state, that, owing to the derangement of our affairs, I am not just now in a condition to pay my rent."
"That is unpleasant, Mr. M'Loughlin."
"Of course it is," he replied; "that was my only business, Mr.
M'Clutchy, and now I bid you good-day."
"Not so fast, if you please, Mr. M'Loughlin; do not be in such a hurry.
You remember a meeting you and I had once in Castle Cumber fair?"
"I do."
"You remember the extraordinary civility with which you treated me?"
"I do, Val, and I only expressed what I thought then and think now; but indeed you have improved the wrong way wonderfully since."
"Your language was indiscreet then, and it is so now."
"It was true for all that, Mr. M'Clutchy."
"Now, might not I, if I wished, take ample revenge for the insulting terms you applied to me?"
"You might, and I suppose you will--I expect nothing else, for I know you well."
"You do not know me. Mr. M'Loughlin, so far from acting up to what you imagine, I shall not avail myself of your position; I have no such intention, I assure you, so that whatever apprehensions you may entertain from others, you need have none from me. And, now, Mr. M'Loughlin, do you not perceive that you judged me unjustly and uncharitably?"
"That's to be seen yet, Mr. M'Clutchy, time will tell."
"Well, then, make your mind easy; I shall take no proceedings in consequence of your situation--so far from that, I shall wait patiently till it is your convenience to pay the rent--so now, I wish you good day, Mr. M'Loughlin."