Macdermots of Ballycloran — The Wedding Part 2

Whilst Mary was dishing the mutton, &c. , Father John was employed in the not less important business of collecting his dues.

Between McGovery and Pat Brady he had succeeded in getting two thirty-shilling notes, which lay in the bottom of the plate, and formed a respectable base for the little heap of silver which he would collect; and if he did not get as much as the occasion would seem to warrant, the deficiency arose from no delicacy in asking, or want of perseverance in urging.

"Now, Captain, you're the only Protestant among us; show these Catholics of mine a liberal example--show them what they ought to do for their priest,"--here Captain Ussher put a couple of half-crowns in the plate.

"There, boys, see what a Protestant does for me.

Well, Feemy, I never ask the ladies, you know, but I shan't let Thady off;

though he ain't here, I shall settle that in the rent."

"Oh, yes, Father John; make Thady pay for himself and me; Mrs. Brennan has got all my money."

"But where's Thady, Feemy dear?

I hope you and he are good friends now."

"Oh yes, Father John; that is, I didn't see him since morning."

"But will he be here to-night?"

"He said he would; but you'd best ask Pat, he knows most about him."

This conversation took place in an under tone, and the priest walked on with his plate.

"Come, Mr. Tierney, how's yourself?

I see you're waiting there, quite impatient, with your hands in your pocket.

It's nothing less than a crown piece, I'll go bail."

"'Deed then, crown pieces a'nt that plenty in the counthry, these days, Father John; the likes of them"--and he put half-a-crown in the plate--"are scarce enough."

The speaker was an old man, rather decently dressed in knee-breeches and gaiters; he was one of those who, even in bad times, manage by thrift and industry to get, among the poor, the reputation of comparative wealth.

"And that's true for you, Mr. Tierney, and thank you kindly; they do however say, that however scarce they are in the country, you've your share of them."

"Go on, Father John, go on, you do be saying more than you know."

And by degrees the priest went through them all.

From most of them he got something; from some a shilling, from some only sixpence; some few gave nothing at all: these in general endeavoured to escape observation behind the backs of the donors, but Father John let none of them off; and those who were unprepared, and who alleged their poverty, and their inability, he reproved for their idleness, and hinted rather strongly that their visits to Mrs. Mulready's, or similar establishments, were the cause of their not being able to do what he called their duty by their priest.

Standing in a corner, at the further end of the room, and resting against a wall, was Joe Reynolds: as Father John had a bad opinion of this man, and as he was not a parishioner of his, he was returning without speaking to him, when Joe said, "You're in the right of it, Father John, not to be axing such a poor divil as me; you know, betwixt them all, they've not left me the sign of a copper harp."

"I know, Reynolds, you're too fond of Mrs. Mulready's to have much for your own priest, let alone another."

"Faix then, Father John, you shouldn't spake agin mother Mulready, for she's something like your riverence; and a poor boy with an empty pocket will get neither comfort nor good words from either of ye."

Father John did not think it to be consistent with his dignity to answer this sally; so he returned to the other end of the room, carefully counting as he went, and pocketing the money which he had collected.

In the meantime the bride, with such assistance as she could get, had succeeded in putting the supper on the table: a leg of mutton at the top, reclining on a vast bed of cabbage; a similar dish at the bottom; and a ham, with the same garniture, in the middle.

The rest of the table was elegantly sprinkled with plates of smoking potatoes; and what knives and forks and spoons and plates could be spared from the head of the table, where a few were laid out with some little order for the more aristocratic of the guests, were collected together in a heap.

At first, no one seemed inclined to sit down; every one was struck with a sudden bashfulness, till Father John, taking up the knife and fork at the top of the table, called McGovery to bring his wife to supper.

"Now, Denis, my man, don't be thinking of those two pigs, but bring your better half with you, and let's see how you can behave as a married man."

"Come, Miss Feemy," said Mary, "if you and the Captain now would jist sit down, and begin--there's a dear, Miss, do."

"Oh, Mary, nobody must sit down before you, to-night."

"Never mind me, Miss,--if I could only get you and the Captain seated; yer honer," and she turned round with a curtsey to Ussher, "there's Denis and Pat there will do nothing in life to help me!"

and the poor woman seemed at her wit's end to know how to arrange her guests.

At last, however, Ussher and Feemy sat down at one side of the priest, Denis and his wife at the other, and by degrees the table got quite full; so much so, that when the boys saw one another taking their seats, they were as eager as before they had been slow; and they hustled each other at the bottom of the table, till they were so crowded that they hadn't room to use their arms.

Pat sat at the bottom, and he and the priest emulated each other in the zeal and celerity with which they cut up and distributed the joints before them.

At Pat's end of the table plates were scarce, and the boys round him took the huge lumps of blood-red mutton in their fists, and seemed perfectly independent of such conventional wants as knives and forks, in the ease and enjoyment with which they dispatched their repast.

At last Brady had done all to the joint that carving could do, and having kept a tolerably sufficient lion's share for himself, he passed the bone down the table, which was speedily divided into as many portions as nature had intended that it should be.

Matters were conducted in a rather more decorous manner among the aristocrats at Father John's end of the table--though even here they were carried on in a somewhat rapid and voracious fashion.

The priest helped Feemy and Ussher, Mary and her husband; and then remarking that he had done all the hard work of the evening, and that he thought it was time to get a bit himself, he filled a moderate plate for his own consumption, and passed the joint down to be treated after the same manner as its fellow.

As long as the eating continued there was not much said; but when the viands had disappeared, and the various bottles came into requisition, the clatter of tongues became loud and joyous; and though the first part of the entertainment had to all appearance come to a rather too speedy termination for want of material to carry it on, there seemed, from the quantity of whiskey produced, little chance of any similar disappointment in what the greater portion of the guests considered the more agreeable part of the entertainment.

"Well, Denis," said Father John, "I believe I've done all I can this time; and as I know you'll want to be looking after the cow that's in calf--no, not the cow, but the pigs--I'll be off."

"Folly on, Father John, folly on; it's always the way with yer riverence--to be making yer game of a poor boy like me!

But you're not going out of this till you've dhrunk Mary's health here, and heard a tune on the pipes, any way."

"Not a drop, Denis, thank ye," and Father John got up; "and now, boys and girls, good night, and God bless you--and behave yourselves."

"Faix, then, yer riverence," said Joe Reynolds from the bottom of the table, "you may tell by the way the boys take to the bottle, that they'll behave themselves dacently and discreatly, like Christians."

"Indeed, then, Reynolds, where you are, and the whiskey with you, I believe there's likely to be little discretion but the discretion of drunkenness,--and not much of that."

"Thank ye, Father John, and it's you have always the kind word for me."

"But, Father John," began Mary, "you're not really going to go without so much as a tumbler of punch?"

"Not a drop, Mary, my dear; I took my punch after dinner--and I can't stand too much.

Good night, Feemy--you'll stay and have a dance I suppose; good night, Captain Ussher."

And Father John got up from table, and went out of the room.

As soon, however, as Denis saw that he was really going, he rose and followed him out of the door.

"Sit down, Denis, sit down--don't be laving your company such a night as this."

"But I want to have jist a word with yer riverence."

"Well, what is it?"

"Jist step outside then, Father John."

"Well, Denis; is it anything about Betsy Cane?

or has Ginty come home, and is he wanting the pigs?"

"No, but would you just step outside here, Mr. McGrath; where those long-eared ruffians won't be hearing me?"

and he and the priest walked a little distance from the door of Mrs. Mehan's house.

"I'm afeard, Father John, them born divils from Drumleesh and Mohill, as Pat brought here to-night, are maning more than good to Captain Ussher."

"And what makes you think that, Denis?"

"Why, Father John, Mary was saying that Pat towld her a lot of his own frinds would be up with him, and that if they war talking together, she and those as are with her dancing and the like, warn't to be disturbing them; and then I knows them boys is very mad with the Captain about that whiskey business up at Loch Sheen; and then Joe Reynolds and Jack Byrne are in it, and their brothers are two of them as war sazed and are now in Ballinamore Bridewell;--and I know there is something of the sort going on through the counthry; and faix, Father John, I wouldn't for money that anything happened, and I in it the while; for a poor boy is always made to be mixed up in them affairs, if by bad luck he is anywhere near at the time."

"But what do you think they'd do to the Captain to-night, Denis?"

"Faix then, yer riverence, I don't know what they'd be doing,--murther him, maybe."

"God forbid!

But, Denis, those men from Drumleesh could hardly know Captain Ussher was going to be at the wedding to-night."

"Oh!

yer riverence, they'd know it well enough from Pat Brady."

"But you don't think your wife's brother would join a party to murder Ussher?"

"Why then, Father John--I think it's just he that would be putting the others up to it."

"Good gracious, Denis!

and what would he get by such deeds as that?

Isn't he comfortable enough."

"It isn't them as is poorest, is always the worst.

But any how, Father John, if you'd come back, and yer riverence wouldn't mind for the onst jist sitting it out--jist dhrinking a dhrop at an odd time, or colloguing a bit with owld Mr. Tierney, till we get the Captain out of that, shure they'd never be doing anything out of the way as long as yer riverence is in it."

"It isn't here--in the house, where there are so many together--they'd attack him, even if they meant to do so; and I don't think they mean it to-night; but it's on his way home--and my going back would not in any way prevent that.

But why don't you at once tell Captain Ussher, and warn him that you fear he is not safe among those fellows at night."

"That's jist what I did then; but he's so foolish, and so bowld, there's no making him mind what one would say.

I did tell him, Father John, that I was afeared that there would be some lads in it wouldn't be his well-wishers.

But he laughed at me, and towld me there were none of the boys through the counthry war so fond of him as those Reynoldses and Byrnes, and all them others down at Drumleesh."

"Well, Denis, and what can I do more; if he laughs at you, why wouldn't he also laugh at me?"

"Why, yer riverence, you and he are frinds like; besides, he wouldn't trate the like of you as he would such a one as I; why I believe he don't think the poor are Christians at all."

"It's true enough for some of them; but what would you have me do?

I

couldn't walk back to Mohill by his horse's side;--and I tell you if they attack him at all, it will not be at the house there, but on his way home."

"'Deed then.

Father John, any way I wish he was well out of that."

"It seems, Denis, it's yourself you're thinking of, more than the Captain."

"Shure, and why wouldn't I--and I just married?

A purty thing for me just now, to be took up among a lot of blackguard ruffians for murthering a king's officer."

"Well, Denis, I won't go back now,--it would look odd and do no good;

so do you go back and drink a tumbler of punch with the men, and dance a turn or two with the girls, as you should on your wedding night; and by and by I'll come down again as if to see what was going on--and to walk home with Miss Feemy.

The Captain must go back to Ballycloran for his horse; and if he can be persuaded that there is any danger, he can go up and sleep at the cottage; for I tell you, if they mean to hurt him at all, it's on the road home to Mohill they'd make the attempt.

Do you go in and say nothing about it, and I'll be down by and by."

Father John walked away towards his house, and Denis McGovery went back with a heavy heart to dance at his own wedding; for though his solicitude for the "king's officer" would not have been of the most intense kind, had he thought that he was to be murdered anywhere else, he had a great horror at the idea of any evil happening to that important personage, when it could in any way affect his own comfort.

When Denis returned into Mrs. Mehan's big kitchen, the amusements of the evening--dancing and drinking--were on the point of commencing.

Shamuth of the pipes, the celebrated composer and musician, was sitting in the corner of the huge fireplace, with a tumbler of punch within reach of his hand, preparing his instrument,--squeaking, and puffing, and blowing in the most approved preparatory style.

Mary was working and toiling again for the benefit of her guests--carrying kettles of boiling water into the inner room--emptying pounds of brown sugar into slop-basins and mugs--telling the boys to take their punch--taking a drop herself now and again, with some one who was wishing her health and happiness, and comfort with the man she'd got--inciting the girls to go and dance--and scolding her brother and husband, because, "bad manners to them, divil a hand they'd lend to help her, and she with so much to do, and so many to mind."

"And now, Miss Feemy, if you'd only get up and begin, dear, the others would soon folly; come, Captain Ussher--would yer honer jist stand up with Miss Feemy?"

"Oh, no, Mary,--you're the bride you know; Captain Ussher must dance with you first."

"Oh!

laws, Miss, but that'd be too much honour intirely."

"No, Mrs. McGovery, but it's I that'll be honoured; so if you will be good enough to stand up with me, I shall be glad to shake a foot with you:" and the gallant Captain led Mary into the middle of the floor.

"But, Captain, dear, sorrow a sup of dhrink did I see you take this blessed evening; shure then you'll let me get you a glass of wine before we all begin, jist to prevent your being smothered with the dust like; shure, yer honour hasn't taken a dhrop yet."

"I won't be so long, Mary; but I won't have the wine yet, I'll wash the dust out with a tumbler of punch just now.

Here's your husband, you must make him dance with the bridesmaid."

"I'm afraid then he ain't much good at dancing."

"Oh!

but he must try.

--Come, McGovery, there's Biddy waiting for you to take her out; and here's Shamuth waiting--you don't think, man, he'd begin till you're ready."

"Come, Denis," said his gentle spouse, "I never see sich a man; can't ye stand up and be dancing, and not keeping everyone waiting that way?"

"Mind yourself, Mary, and you'll have enough to mind.

Come, Biddy, alanna, let us have a shake together, all for luck;" and the happy husband led forth Biddy of Ballycloran--she with the big cap--who was only now beginning to regain the serene looks, which had been dispelled by Father John's not permitting her to act as bridesmaid.

And now Shamuth--his preparatory puffs having been accomplished--struck up "Paddy Carey" with full force and energy.

As this was the first dance, no one stood up but the two couple above named; there were therefore the more left to admire the performance, and better room left for the performers to show their activity.

"Faix then, Mary," said one, "it's yerself that dances illigant--the Lord be praised--only look to her feet."

"Well, dear--Denis, shure no one thought you were that good at a jig;

give him a turn, Biddy--don't spare him--he's able for you and more."

"Ah!

but see the Captain, Kathleen; it's he that could give the time to the music; a'nt he and Mary well met?

--you must put more wind into the pipes, Shamuth, before they're down."

"But if you want to see the dancing, wait till Miss Feemy stands up--it's she that can dance; you'll stand up with the Captain, Miss Feemy, won't you?"

"Indeed I will, Corney, if he asks me."

"Axes you!

ah, there's little doubt of that; it's he that's ready and willing to ax you, now and always."

"Ah!

Mr. McGovery, shure man, you're not bait yet!

you wouldn't give in to Biddy that soon?"

Poor Denis was giving signs of having had enough of the amusement.

There was a tolerably large fire on the hearth, near which he had been destined to perform his gyrations--which, if not very graceful, had, at any rate, been sufficiently active; and the exertion, heat, and dust were showing plainly on his shining countenance.

"Ah!

Mr. McGovery," panted Biddy, "shure you're not down yet, and I only jist begun!"

"Indeed, then, Biddy, I am, and quite enough I've had, too, for one while.

Here, Corney, come and take my place;" and Denis deposited a penny in a little wooden dish by the piper's side.

"By dad, Denis," said Corney, "you'll sleep to-night, any ways--to look at you."

"That's jist what he won't, then; for it'll be morning before he's in bed, and Mary'll have too much to say to him, when he is there, to let him sleep."

"Never mind, boys; do you dance, and I'll get myself a dhrink, for I'm choked with the dust;--and here's Mr. Thady.

Why, Mr. Thady, why didn't you come in time for the supper, then?"

Just as Denis McGovery gave over dancing, Thady entered the house, having anything but a wedding countenance.

He had been, since the time we parted from him after his interview with Keegan, lying in the stable, smoking.

He had eaten nothing, but had remained meditating over the different things which conspired to make his heart sad.

His father's state--the impossibility of carrying on the war any longer against the enmity of Flannelly and Keegan--his own forlorn prospects--the insult and blow he had just received from the overbearing, heartless lawyer--but, above all, Feemy's condition, and his fears respecting her, were too much for him to bear.

After his sister and Captain Ussher had left Ballycloran, he had gone up to the house and had swallowed a couple of glasses of raw whiskey, to drive, as he said to himself, the sorrow out of his heart; and he had now come down to seek the friends whom Brady had recommended to him, and determined, at whatever cost, to revenge himself, by their aid, against Keegan, for the insults he had heaped upon him, and against Ussher for the name which, he believed, he had put upon his sister.

It was with these feelings and determinations that Thady had come down to McGovery's wedding; and, as he entered the room, Ussher and Feemy were just standing up to dance.

CHAPTER XIII.