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THIRD SERIES 
 
 or 
 
 TALES OF THE MUNSTER FESTIVALS. 
 
B. BENSX.KY, I'HINTIK, ANirnVKK. 
 
THE RIVALS. 
 
 TRACY'S AMBITION. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 ''THE COLLEGIANS.' 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. IL 
 
 LONDON: 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 
 
 1830. 
 

 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Esther was standing near the cottage window, 
 and looking out upon the storm-lit lake, when 
 her husband hurried into the apartment, ex- 
 hausted from his late adventure, and from the 
 speed with which he had hurried downward from 
 the glen. He disguised the cause of his agita- 
 tion from Esther, and was occupied in quiet 
 converse with her, when they were surprised 
 by the entrance of the servant, to say that there 
 were three Peelers outside bearing a wounded 
 
 VOL. TI. B 
 
2 THE RIVALS. 
 
 gentleman in a cloak, who had come to request 
 a lodging for the night. 
 
 '' Not here ! not here !" said Francis, in 
 deep agitation. 
 
 ^' Not here, Francis?" echoed Esther, in 
 
 surprise. 
 
 '^ He is ravin' mad, sir," said the servant ; 
 *^ and the men say his head is touched some way." 
 
 '^ Masther Frank," said Lenigan, thrust- 
 ing his head into the room, " he's abroad, an' 
 a'most dead. If its a bleedher he wants, 1 have 
 a lancet here in my pocket, an' I'll do the busi- 
 ness in a minute." 
 
 Francis paused for a moment in deep thought, 
 and then, suddenly turning to the servant, he bade 
 the strange gentleman be carried into the little 
 room which lay on the far end of the cottage, 
 and desired that Davy should instantly attend 
 with his lancet, while one of the horsemen rode 
 off for a more experienced medical attendant. 
 
 " And now, Esther," said Francis, closing 
 
THE RIVALS. 3 
 
 the door after the servants, ^' what*s to be done? 
 This gentleman is an old friend of yours." 
 
 '' Of mine, Frank !" 
 
 " Aye, of yours. And not the least esteemed, 
 nor the least successful amongst them, neither. 
 This man is Lacy." 
 
 " Oh, Francis," exclaimed Esther, suddenly 
 clasping his shoulder, and looking in his face 
 with an expression of mingled pity and alarm, 
 '' I hope he is not hurt to danger." 
 
 *' I hope so too — heaven knows, I hope so 
 too," said her husband, with sincere emphasis. 
 " He received the injury from me, in an effort 
 which I made to save myself from an assault that 
 was made by him upon my life." 
 
 Very soon after, Davy re-entered, to say 
 that the magistrate had received but a very slight 
 injury, and that he would, if it were not for the 
 urgency of his attendants, have got on horseback 
 once more with the view of returning to his own 
 abode. Strangely enough, this intelligence of 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE RIVALS, 
 
 Lacy's safety seemed to restore all his abated 
 hostility to the heart of Riordan. He gave Esther 
 a detailed account of the occurrence which had 
 taken place at the fall. 
 
 'Mie is beneath my roof!" he exclaimed, 
 as he concluded, standing erect, and lifting his 
 hand into the air — *' He is beneath my roof, and 
 therefore let him take his rest in peace ! He is 
 lielpless and a stranger, and therefore let his 
 million crimes be covered, while he stays. For 
 this, I think not of his causeless hate — his unremit- 
 ting wiles against my fame and life — his bloody 
 practices upon my poor dependants — my own 
 lasig exile from my native soil — the agony of 
 my return — the loss of the best years of my 
 existence — all these, and this last treacherous 
 effort at my life, must be forgiven for this night. 
 To-night he is your guest, Esther ; for 1 will never 
 couch my head beneath the roof that shelters that 
 bad man 1" 
 
 <* How, Francis?" 
 
THE RIVALS. O 
 
 *' Esther, dear Esther, I have not sufficient 
 confidence in my own self-command to stay. If 
 you will have me strive against this feeling, I will 
 remain to please you, but bind me hard, I warn 
 you ! I have an animal dislike to Lacy, a de- 
 testation that will acknowledge no influence of 
 reason, and nothing short of physical coercion 
 could render me secure of my self-government. 
 Ah, that this beast should be let forth again to 
 waste the nation of the poor with fire and famine !" 
 He left the house, after cautioning Esther 
 to avoid the eyes of the strangers, and hurried 
 off to a neighbouring cottage, inhabited by the 
 family of one of his servants. Esther, in the 
 mean time, remained in the cottage in deep per- 
 plexity of mind. 
 
 Two or three times before midnight, Francis 
 returned on some pretext or another, and Esthei 
 thought that at each time there was something 
 paler and sterner in his aspect than before. She 
 questioned him on many subjects, but his an- 
 
O THE RIVALS. 
 
 swers were vague and absent, and his lip had 
 turned outward, with that hue of livid blue 
 which it wore whenever the heart of the man 
 was wound up to some enterprize of danger. 
 He asked hastily some questions concerning 
 Lacy, paced gloomily up and down the little 
 apartment, and at length turning hastily to 
 Esther, said : 
 
 " Is it not hard that one should be forced 
 to play the cony about one's own house to 
 avoid the tooth of such a venomed weasel as 
 this Lacy V 
 
 *' Well, but for one night, Francis.'' 
 
 " How the wind howls yet ! 'Tis a horrid 
 night !" 
 
 '^ His attendants say that he will by no 
 means consent to remain longer than the night." 
 
 '' Indeed ?" 
 
 ^'And it was with difficulty they prevented 
 his sudden departure on the instant." 
 
 ''I would they had let him go:" said 
 
THE RIVALS. 7 
 
 Francis, in a deep tone, and as if unconscious 
 of being heard. 
 
 *' And wherefore, Francis ?" 
 
 He did not answer the question, but con- 
 tinued for a long time to gaze in deep ab- 
 straction on the window. His face, like that 
 of a person struggling to subdue the expression 
 of an intense agony, changed colour several 
 times, and, when he spoke again, his voice was 
 harsh and altered, as if passion could exercise 
 upon the organs the influence of time or of 
 disease. 
 
 '^ Esther," said he, '^ I have changed my 
 mind. I will not sleep out to night/' 
 
 From some undefinable cause, Esther felt 
 a sudden alarm at this new resolution. She 
 imagined that her husband had formed the in- 
 tention of visiting Lacy, in his chamber, and 
 she could form no idea of any other termi- 
 nation to such a meeting than one of violence 
 and cruelty. After vainly endeavouring to 
 
8 THE RIVALS. 
 
 sound her husband's purpose, she resolved to 
 baffle it at all events, by a course of action 
 which had something in it scarcely less hazardous 
 than the rencontre which she feared. 
 
 Returning fully to the consciousness of his 
 condition, Richard Lacy passed the night in an 
 agony of disappointed hate, of wild impatience, 
 and of mental torture, in the comparison with 
 which the physical suffering that he en- 
 dured was trivial. Stretched upon the rack 
 of passion, and stung by the assaults of the 
 direst species of remorse, the sense of guilt 
 intended and attempted, not enjoyed, his im- 
 agination magnified the miseries of his con- 
 dition and awoke within his heart the first 
 thought of fear which he had entertained for 
 many a day. 
 
 He believed that his hurt was likely to be 
 productive of more serious effects than were 
 anticipated by his attendants, and many hours 
 were consumed in gloomy meditation on the 
 
THE RIVALS. 9 
 
 nature of the change which death might bring 
 to him. That deHrious extravagence of passion 
 which made him on one occasion reflect with 
 agony on the possible re-union of Esther and 
 Francis, in another world, now moved him 
 with strong terror on his own account. He 
 pictured to himself the spirit of Esther Wilder- 
 ming reposing in that paradise, in the existence 
 of which, the course of his early education and 
 the movements of his reason taught him to believe, 
 and he referred, with a wild uneasiness, to the 
 character of his own life, and its probable retri- 
 bution. 
 
 While he thought of these things, sitting 
 dressed in an arm-chair, he heard one of the 
 servants, an old woman, sing, in a low voice, 
 an Irish song, of which the following is a 
 translation. It struck him forcibly, at the 
 time, as it represented a kind of sorrow fo 
 which he had often given occasion — the grief 
 of a mother for a perished son ,: 
 
 B 5 
 
10 THE RIVALS. 
 
 My darling, my darling, when silence is on the moor, 
 And, lone in the sunshine, I sit by our cabin door ; 
 When evening falls quiet and calm over land and sea, 
 My darling, my darling, I think of past times and thee ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Here, while on this cold shore I wear out my lonely hours. 
 My child in the heavens is spreading my bed with flowers. 
 All weary my bosom is grown of this friendless clime : 
 But I long not to leave it, for that were a shame and crime. 
 
 TIT. 
 
 They bear to the churchyard the young in their health away, 
 I know where a fruit hangs more ripe for the grave than they : 
 But I wish not for death, for my spirit is all resigned. 
 And the hope that stays with me gives peace to my aged mind. 
 
 IV. 
 
 My darling, my darling, God gave to my feeble age 
 A prop for my faint heart, a stay in my pilgrimage : 
 My darling, my darling, God takes back his gift again ; 
 And my heart may be broken, but ne'er shall my will complain. 
 
 When the song had ended, and while Lacy 
 lay indulging the reflections to which it gave 
 
THE RIVALS. U 
 
 occasion, a slight noise, on one side of his 
 bed, made him turn round and gaze in that 
 direction. His attendants were sleeping on 
 pallets in the kitchen, after having been plenti- 
 fully supplied with drink from the parlour, and 
 a deep silence fell on all the house. 
 
 Some person had pushed in the door, but 
 seemed unwilling to enter. After waiting for a 
 few moments in suspense. Lacy demanded to 
 know who was there, but received no reply. He 
 waited for a little time and repeated his question, 
 still without effect. A third time, after a long 
 pause, he renewed the query, with some little 
 anxiety of mind, and a third time it remained 
 unanswered. He turned away, rather annoyed, 
 and in the action thought he could discern the 
 flitting of a white dress across the threshold 
 of the door. He turned again, and saw, in- 
 deed, a figure completely attired in white, and 
 with a head-dress which fell down so far over 
 the forehead as to conceal every feature except 
 
1^ THE mVALS. 
 
 the chin from observation, and that was paier 
 than the drapery through which it appeared. 
 Even this single indication was sufficient to 
 freeze the blood of Lacy with a terrific 
 recognition, and he sat up in the bed in an 
 access of sudden horror. It needed not the 
 approach of that slow-moving figure ; it needed 
 not the lifting of the rigid hand ; it needed not 
 the removal of that heavy veil ; and the sight of the 
 long pale features, and the glassy eyes that were be- 
 neath, to convince the frighted invalid that he was in 
 the presence of the shade of Esther Wilderming. 
 For a time, his terror swallowed up every 
 other feeling, and he could do nothing but 
 pant and gape and stare upon the figure, 
 while he leaned forward on both his hands, his 
 eye dilated, and his parted lips drawn down- 
 ward at the corners with an expression of deep- 
 seated horror. His brow became in one minute 
 white, red, moist, and glistening, now cold as 
 earth, and now burning with a sudden fever. 
 
THE RIVALS. 13 
 
 A swift convulsion shook every member of 
 his frame, and then it rested stiff and motionless, 
 as if it were struck by a sympathetic death. 
 The light seemed to change its colour, the 
 objects in the room dilated and grew indistinct, 
 the sounds that were before so gentle, that the 
 silence of midnight scarcely served to make them 
 audible, seemed now to have acquired a strange 
 and preternatural loudness, and the sense of 
 feeling became so painfully acute, that the 
 floating atoms in the air were felt distinctly as 
 they settled on his brow. 
 
 " Esther," he hoarsely murmured, after 
 several vain eflforts to articulate the word, " what 
 is it troubles you?" 
 
 She raised a hand, as if with a cautionary 
 action. 
 
 " Speak to mel" said Lacy, still in deep 
 agitation, *' speak to me, though you loved me 
 not in life. Oh, Esther, speak at once — if you 
 are ill at ease, and there be any thing in 
 
14 THE RIVALS. 
 
 Lacy's power to give you peace, ah, make him 
 blessed by telling it." 
 
 As he raised his voice, in the vehemency of 
 his adjuration, the figure slovi'ly repeated the 
 former action. Lacy started back, in sudden 
 terror, at every movement of the spectre, 
 
 and felt a difficulty in mustering his spirits 
 again to address it, 
 
 " The innocent," he said at length, in a low 
 and earnest voice, " the innocent, it is said, 
 fear ye not. I have not that security. The 
 blood of many victims, the sufferings of youth, 
 the tears of age, the groans of severed hearts, 
 and homes bereaved of joy, the memory of 
 passions long indulged, and feasted upon crime 
 and human woe, all these surround me in this 
 fell extremity, and tear away my trust in days 
 gone by. I have not the security of innocence, 
 and yet behold, my Esther, I fear not you ! 
 All terrible as you are, wrapt in the pomp of 
 death, and clothed in all the horrors of 'the 
 
THE RIVALS. 15 
 
 grave, I fear not you, my love ! though my 
 limbs tremble, and my nerves are dragged to 
 agony, though my eyes wander, though my speech 
 grows hoarse, and though the blood is thickening 
 at my heart, I fear you not, I love you through 
 my fears ! Oh, by these trembling limbs, this 
 scared and terrified, yet doting heart, these eyes 
 that you have long bereft of light, I pray you 
 Esther, speak to me ! Come nearer, though it 
 
 be to blast me Come ! 1 will not believe 
 
 that you would injure me, for you were ever 
 gentle and forbearing, and where is the hand 
 that could inflict a pain upon the heart that 
 loves it? But, whether you be come in anger 
 or in love, in mercy or in vengeance, yet welcome 
 to my presence, Esther Wilderming. In hate 
 or in affection, in life or death, I have still a 
 horrid rapture in your company." 
 
 He paused suddenly, as the figure again 
 elevated one hand and seemed about to speak. 
 Still as a statue, he remained with his eyes 
 
16 THE RIVALS, 
 
 rivetted upon the parted lips of the appearance, 
 while the words came forth, distinct and low, 
 and almost without a motion of the feature, 
 
 '^ Hear me ! " said Esther. 
 
 The first accents of her voice made Lacy 
 shrink quickly down, like one who is startled by a 
 sudden and terrific sound, 
 
 " I am your friend, and come to warn you," 
 continued the figure, *"' Arise, and leave this 
 liouse." 
 
 '' Wherefore?*' 
 
 *^ You are in danger. Wait not one other 
 hour. Depart in silence and with speed." 
 
 ** Who is my enemy ? " 
 
 " That must not be revealed. But you have 
 many. I would not leave you in the danger of 
 any one's revenge," 
 
 ** I am guarded, Esther," 
 
 " Do not trust to that. Silence and the 
 night are fearful accessaries against you. Re- 
 venge can use the noiseless pace of Murder. 
 
THE RIVALS. 17 
 
 It grows in secret, it walks in silence, it glides 
 to its design as rapidly, it strikes as deadly and 
 as deep." 
 
 ^' And you are come then, kind and gentle 
 shade, to save a life so worthless as my own ? " 
 
 " I never wished you ill, and do not now. 
 Richard, if even you have valued my entreaties, 
 refuse not to comply with this. Arise with secresy 
 and diligence, and leave this house at once." 
 
 " Behold, 1 obey you on the instant, Esther. 
 Yet stay !— " 
 
 '* Hark ! some one stirs !" 
 
 '* The house is silent." 
 
 *' Speak quickly, then, and low." 
 
 " Tell me if you are happy." 
 
 Esther sighed. 
 
 ** Oh, hide not from me any thing of your 
 condition, Esther. Tell me by what strange toils, 
 what prayers, what sufferings, I yet may hope 
 to meet you in a happier world. Tell me, and 
 though you bid me to surrender all my earthly 
 
18 THE RIVALS. 
 
 schemes of glory, though you should bid me shake 
 Ambition off, and cease to dream of power and 
 wealth and honour ; though you should make 
 my path in life a waste, teach me to curb my 
 fiery impulses ; nay, though you charge me to 
 surrender that first passion of my life since you 
 were lost — my hate of him who was my rival in 
 your love — I will cast all away upon the second— 
 and be an humble, pale, poor, passionless and 
 self- tormenting penitent, wasting my noons and 
 nights in prayer and agony, and only living on 
 the hope of meeting you in peace and happiness. 
 Where dwell you, in what land, for there must 
 be the limit of my wanderings ?" - 
 
 " Vain man ! " said Esther, after contem- 
 plating the enthusiast for some moments with an 
 expression of mingled pity and severity, " Mistaken 
 man, how passion has eaten up your understanding. 
 It is not by a motive such as this, so earth-born, 
 so self-interested, that you can ever hope with 
 justice to influence your fate in the hands of 
 
THE RIVALS. IQ 
 
 Him who is to judge you. Dismiss from your 
 remembrance all thought of these intemperate 
 passions, to which you have sacrificed so much 
 of your own and of others' happiness, repair 
 the wrongs you have inflicted, redress the misery 
 you have occasioned, dry up the tears that you 
 have caused to flow, light up the hearths you 
 have made dark and lonely, and do all this, not 
 for the love of earth and earthly passions, but 
 for the sake of virtue and its Author." 
 
 ** You speak to one," said Lacy, *' insensi- 
 ble to such a motive, insensible to all, except 
 that one absorbing passion which has ditfused 
 itself throughout his whole existence, and become, 
 indeed, himself. The time has long gone by 
 when I could think so anxiously of death. Its 
 terrors have grown stale upon my fancy, and 
 now, my conscience seldom hurts me that way. 
 If I cannot be virtuous for your sake, I never 
 can be for my own." 
 
 Here the figure started slightly, as if in alarm. 
 
20 THE RIVALS. 
 
 and assumed for a moment the attitude of close 
 attention. 
 
 '^ I must depart :" were the next words of 
 Esther; *' Farewell, delay not long beneath this 
 roof; and oh, remember my injunctions." 
 
 '^ Hold !" cried Lacy, aloud, and springing 
 suddenly to his feet, " you have not answered yet 
 my single question." 
 
 *' I cannot now." 
 
 '* Ah, Esther, leave me not unsatisfied. You 
 shall not pass !" he added, with a rapid wildness 
 of manner, as the figure glided toward the door. 
 
 She raised her hands and laid one finger close 
 upon her lips as if enjoining silence. Lacy obeyed 
 the signal, but would not abandon his place be- 
 tween her and the door. At that moment a sudden 
 noise in the next room made him start and look 
 around. When he again assumed his former atti- 
 tude, the apparition had fled. He saw^ only the 
 shimmer of a white dress through the darkness, 
 and in the next instant was alone. 
 
THE RIVALS. 21 
 
 Exhausted by the exquisite degree of ex- 
 citement to which his feelings had been just 
 wound up, he sunk down, powerless, into a 
 chair, his arms hanging drearily to the ground, 
 and his head depending on his shoulder. In 
 this condition he was once more startled by 
 the entrance of one of his men, who had oc- 
 casioned the noise already mentioned. In so 
 feverish a state the slightest appeal to an external 
 sense acted on his frame with an electric vio- 
 lence. He leaped up once more from his seat, 
 confronted the intruder, who was no other than 
 his creature Tobin, and, finding his terror vain, 
 burst suddenly into a passion of rage. 
 
 " Ruffian ! " he said, '* how dare you break 
 so rudely on my presence ? Who are you? 
 What's your business ? " 
 
 '* Ha ! " said the intruder, " ruffian, Mr. 
 Lacy ! That's a strange word to apply to a 
 person of respectable connexions." 
 
 " Ah, Tobin, I knew you not." 
 
22 THE RIVALS. 
 
 '' What is the matter, sir ? " 
 
 '* This house ! " said Lacy, abstractedly^ 
 ^^ what danger ? from what hand ? " 
 
 " I heard a noise in the room, and I thought I'd 
 just step in to see whether you wanted anything." 
 
 ^* Tobin, come hither." 
 
 ^' Here's Tom Tobin, ever ready at a call. 
 What's your will ? " 
 
 *^ Who is the owner of this house?" 
 
 ^^ A Mr. Johnson, I think ; some fellow 
 of low English extraction, I suspect. A fellow 
 of no family. And yet 'tis such fellows that 
 live in such little elysiums as this, while the 
 Blakes, the O^Donnell's, the Fitzgerald's, 
 the Butler's, the O^Shaughnessy's, the 
 O'Tooles, the O^Lones, the O'Donoghues, 
 the McCarthys, the M'Gillicuddys, and all the 
 cream and top of the old Irish nobility are 
 scattered over the country, hedging and ditching, 
 and tilling, as hired labourers, the lands which 
 their ancestors won in fight, and held from 
 
THE RIVALS. 23 
 
 father to son at the point of the sword. But 
 so it is : 
 
 Since every Jack became a gentleman, 
 There's many a gentle person made a jack." 
 
 ** Tobin, I did not know you when you 
 entered.'' 
 
 '* Enough said : gentle blood is quickly up, 
 but gentle speech will soon allay it, sir." 
 
 *^ I must leave this place to-night." 
 
 '' To-night ! " 
 
 " This very instant." 
 
 ** And your hurt ? " 
 
 "It is almost well. It need be no ob- 
 struction. Let us come silently and with secresy, 
 for there is danger in the place. Away ! " 
 
 Silencing the remonstrances of Tobin, Lacy 
 pressed forward into the room w^iere his at- 
 tendants were sleeping in chairs around the 
 fire, and waked them up with caution. Sig- 
 nifying his wishes rather by actions than by 
 
24 THE RIVALS. 
 
 words, he made them comprehend his intention 
 of departing instantly. The servant who had 
 received directions as to his conduct from some 
 sufficient quarter, appeared among them at 
 the moment, and assisted in getting their horses 
 ready, and making all preparations for their 
 departure. A few minutes only elasped befQ|re 
 the echoing of their horses' hoofs had ceased 
 to clatter along the lake and against the opposite 
 mountain. 
 
 In returning to the house, the servant en- 
 countered his master, standing on the kitchen 
 floor, and apparently in stifled agitation. 
 
 *' Where are the strangers?'' he said, in a 
 low and subdued voice, while his eye was fixed 
 with an expression of sternness upon that of 
 his servant. 
 
 '* They are gone, sir," said the latter. 
 
 '^.Who bade them go?" 
 
 " Themselves, sir, to come an' call for 
 their horses an' be off*." 
 
THE RIVALS. 25 
 
 Francis paused for a considerable time, as if 
 undergoing a passionate mental struggle. 
 
 " Where's your mistress ? '\ he asked at 
 length. 
 
 " She is within, sir, readin' in the parlour." 
 
 '* What did that gentleman say at parting? " 
 
 '' Nothin' to me, sir.'* 
 
 *' Go, go to your bed." 
 
 The servant left the place. 
 
 '^ It is better as it is," Francis muttered 
 
 to himself, after a long pause. *^ I wished to 
 have some conversation with him in his mood 
 of suffering, but I am glad that it has happened 
 otherwise, I could not answer for my heart 
 when I beheld him lying in my power with 
 all his guilt, committed and intended, hot upon 
 him. It is better we did not meet." 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 About a fortnight after this event, Francis 
 was returning late in the evening through the 
 village of Round wood, when a sudden and 
 heavy descent of rain compelled him to take 
 shelter at an inn on the right hand. There 
 had been a fair in the neighbourhood, and the 
 house was full of guests. The light, from the 
 windows and the open door, streamed across 
 the street, making the rain drops sparkle as 
 
THE RIVALS. 27 
 
 they fell into its beams. The sound of mirth 
 was loud within the house, and the uproar 
 was but slightly diminished when Francis made 
 his appearance. Wrapped in a white great 
 coat, and with his hat drawn low upon his 
 brow, he passed unrecognized among the crowd, 
 and gained a distant corner, shadowed by the 
 projecting porch of the fire-place, whence he 
 might contemplate all the company, without 
 incurring the observation of any. 
 
 The landlord was busy in his shop. A 
 large fire sent light and heat through the room, 
 and shone on many a merry countenance. On 
 one side of the fire-place were a number of 
 young men and girls, laughing loudly, while 
 on the other sat a number of middle aged 
 men, who were carrying on a graver conver- 
 sation, in which, nevertheless, many appeared 
 highly interested. The usual centre of attrac- 
 tion, in such scenes, a table and vessels for 
 drink, was not forgotten here, though many 
 
28 THE KTVALS. 
 
 preferred to sit apart, each with his own brown 
 fount of inspiration, and worship Bacchus in 
 Montmellic Ale. 
 
 " No Saint Pathrick ! " exclaimed one old 
 man in a tone of surprise, while he gently moved 
 the liquor in his pewter drinking vessel, " that's 
 a dhroll thing." 
 
 '^ Why then it is," said another, *' an' I 
 heerd it, for all. I heerd Mr. Darner, over, 
 prove it out of a book, that there was'nt such a 
 man at all there, nor no talk of him, at the 
 time." 
 
 <^ What's that you're sayin' Phil ? " asked a 
 hoarse voice from the corner. 
 
 '^ That Saint Pathrick was never there at 
 all, he's sayin'," replied the old man, turning 
 round with a smile, as if in hope of finding 
 some successful counter-argument. 
 
 *' Saint Pathrick, eroo ? " 
 - '^ Iss, then." 
 
 * En a, howl.*' 
 
tHt RIVALS. 29 
 
 ** Faix, i'm in airnest." 
 
 *' An' what's more, I believed him too," con- 
 tinued the retailer of the parados, "until I was 
 talking of it, afther, to Misther Lenigan, the Latin 
 taicher, an' he made light of it, in a minute, for 
 sure, says he, if there was no Saiat Fathrick, \\hat 
 did they build the ould Riins for ? an' if they were 
 built by any body, might'nt it as well be Saint 
 Pathrick as atiy body else ? Eh, now, Jerry ?" 
 
 *^ It stands to raison, what you say." 
 
 *' Erra, I would'nt mind a word one o' them 
 convarthers would be sayin' to me," said a young 
 man who had got his arm round his sweetheart's 
 waist, *^ they have arguments that would bother 
 tlie Danes, an' you'd think the world could'nt 
 gainsay wliat they'd tell you, an' wiien you'd be 
 listeiiin' to the Priest, aftlier, before two minutes, 
 lie would'nt lave 'em Avorth a button. I'd rather 
 be talkin' to Mary here, be *r two selves, a-near 
 {he five side, than to hear all the convarthers iu 
 Europe." 
 
so THE RIVALS. 
 
 *' Ayeh/* said Mary, tossing his head incredu- 
 ously. 
 
 " 'Tis thrue, I tell you." 
 " Ayeh, talkin' is aisy, Jim." 
 " M' asthora you wor — 
 
 Your eyes, 'tis true, are a sweet sky blue, 
 
 Your cheeks the hue of the crimson rose ; 
 Your hair, behold, does shine like gold. 
 
 In flowing rolls, it so nicely grows. 
 Your skin is white as the snow by night, 
 
 Straight and upright is your portly frame ; 
 The chaste Diana an' the fair Susanna, 
 
 Are eclipsed in grandeur by my lovely dame." 
 
 " Well, it's all one," said an old flax dresser, 
 in a corner, '* these converts — " 
 
 " Perverts, you should call *emj" interrupted 
 a new voice, which was no other than that of 
 Lenigan, *' 'tisn't converted, they are, but per- 
 verted, the heavens look down upon 'em." 
 
 *' Perverts, then, if it be perverts. I say there 
 is n't one o' them but what comes round again in 
 the latter end. When the world is slippin' away 
 
THE RIVALS. 31 
 
 from undher us, heaven save us, it is then the 
 truth will break out for all.'' 
 
 *' Its true for you," observed a smith, taking a 
 pipe from his mouth and knocking off the ashes 
 with the tip of his little linger, ''there's that 
 Tobin, that turned to plase Lacy, the magis- 
 thrate, he's for turnin' again now, to plase himself. 
 He came to me a couple o' days ago, down to 
 the forge, to get a nail dhruv in a loose shoe, 
 an' I never heerd but how he talked o' Lacy. 
 Some argument they had about money, that 
 Tobin said was owin' to him, an' Lacy wouldn't 
 pay it." 
 
 " Shasthone !" said the first speaker, " its a 
 good sign for the counthry to have 'embreakin 1" 
 
 '' Indeed," ejaculated the smith, "that same 
 Misther Lacy will be in a place yet where the 
 tip of his finger will light his pipe for him, if he 
 does'nt change his behaviour," 
 
 *' He could'nt do worse, himself, than to 
 judge you, Tom," said Lenigan, whose eye had 
 
32 THE RIVALS. 
 
 just began to twinkle in the corner, '^ not if he 
 was a Turk." 
 
 " Why then, of all men, Davy, it does'nt 
 become you to take his part, that knows well the 
 way he dealt with a gentleman that was good to 
 you once, Masther Frank Riordan." 
 
 " Don't speak of it, don't speak o' that, at 
 all, Tom, I beg o' you." 
 
 '^ An' sure there's the poor Hares, that are 
 lodged in the Bridewell this very day for night- 
 walkin', an' that'll never get out of his hands 
 again, until they are hung." 
 
 *' The Hares in Bridewell!" exclaimed Davy, 
 in strong surprize. 
 
 And Francis started, too, and listened in awak- 
 ened interest, for in this name he recognized that of 
 two poor fellows whom he had formerly rescued 
 from the tyranny of Lacy. He felt a double in- 
 terest in their fate, as he knew that it was his 
 success in their cause which contributed to con- 
 firm the hatred that Lacy had conceived against 
 
THE RIVALS. .*}3 
 
 iiini upon other grounds. That circumstance 
 was now nearly five years past, and he .wondered, 
 at the inveteracy of spite which could seize an 
 opportunity of vengeance after the lapse of many 
 years. 
 
 " They were taken this morning/' continued 
 the smith, " makin' an attack upon Tobin in 
 his house. The whole v/orld wondhers, for 
 ttiere was n't quieter people goin' than the 
 Hares, an' they tenants of Tobin, an' wantin' 
 an abatement of him this time back. They're 
 to be examined to-morrow at the petty sessions 
 before Mr. Damer an' Mr. Leonard, two 
 gentleman that'll show 'em fair play, for ail 
 bein' protestants," 
 
 *^ He's a terrible little man," said the flax- 
 dresser. " Tiiey say he had a dale to do with 
 this new Vesthry Bill act, that's come out 
 lately." 
 
 ** Aye, an' the Sub-lettin' Act," observed the 
 M man already alluded to as the first speaker, 
 
 c 5 
 
S4 THE RIVALS. 
 
 '' Them two acts," said Davy, " are nothing 
 less than, as I may say, the two jaws of a 
 demon that are to grind away the good of Ireland 
 into nothing, between 'em." 
 
 This vigorous sentiment set on foot a stormy 
 debate upon those two famous pieces of legis- 
 lation, which proceeded to an extreme degree 
 of violence, Davy, as he had struck the spear 
 into the dwelling of the tempests, so he used 
 every exertion now to pacify the tumult he 
 had raised. He stood up, waved his hands, 
 looked round him with an imploring eye, but 
 all his gestures were unheeded amid the zeal 
 of political discussion. At length, finding that 
 nothing in a colloquial way had the slightest 
 chanoe of producing an impression, he threw 
 himself on a sudden into an oratorical at- 
 titude, and shouted out an astounding — ^' Gen- 
 tlemen!" — 
 
 A dead silence immediately fell upon the 
 circle, for the voice and the sight of an or- 
 
THE RIVALS. 35 
 
 litor exercise upon such people an influence as 
 powerful as that which the great Patron of the 
 art was accustomed to use on the shores of 
 the ancient Erebus. All eyes were turned on 
 the speaker. All tongues w^ere hushed, all 
 passions quelled upon the instant ; the uplifted 
 pewter hung suspended in mid-air ; the frolic 
 swain, forgetting the kiss for which he had been 
 struggling, looked backward over his shoulder 
 and relaxed his hold around the person of hi« 
 screaming love; the landlord hobbled, smiling, 
 from behind his counter ; the pot-boy forgot his 
 vocation ; the very dogs and cats relinquished 
 their altercations ; the expectation of that treat 
 so precious to Irish ears, an oration, lulled every 
 heart to silence, and mute attention sunk sud'^ 
 denly upon the scene. 
 
 ** Gentlemen !" continued Davy, preserving 
 the lofty oratorical key, ^* will ye hear a word 
 from me upon those bloody and inhumail 
 statutes ?" 
 
36 THE RIVALS. 
 
 Continued silence, only interrupted by a 
 murmur of something like assent, seemed to 
 inform the speaker that the company were willing 
 he should be heard. 
 
 '^ I am glad, gentlemen," resumed the orator, 
 
 *' to see by the zale ye show in your discourse 
 
 that ye are roused at last from that sleepin' /iYwrgy 
 
 in which ye were lulled so long. Although it is 
 
 nearly impossible for me to add any thing to 
 
 what many other gentlemen have already said, 
 
 to-night, round the table, I, for all, cannot with 
 
 silence pass over the late achievements of our 
 
 countrymen, without making some remarks an' 
 
 observations of my own [here there was a 
 
 murmur of something like approbation, in 
 
 which all joined, except the smith and the other 
 
 great man, the seneschal of the parish]. We 
 
 surmounted the times, gentlemen, when the 
 
 priest was hunted with more diligence than the 
 
 ravenous wolf, an' as for the schoolmasther — 
 
 [there was some tittering among the girls J—an' 
 
THE RIVALS. 37 
 
 as for the school-mas ther, he was searched for as 
 a vigorous sportsman, on the banks of the 
 Nore, would search for his game ; an' they 
 would be as happy, when those would have the 
 misfortune to fall into their hands, as the de- 
 jected thraveller on the deserts of Africa when 
 ready to expire with thirst, and would just meet 
 a pool o' wather. [Some applause]. But, friends, 
 for what purpose did they so diligently seek 
 them ? I will tell you ! To wreak their ven- 
 geance on those necessary members of society. 
 [Applause more decided]. The time is now 
 past when the poor bewildered Catholic, in 
 his slate of starvation, would not be allowed to 
 keep a horse worth more than iive pounds, 
 and \\hen he would not be allowed to keep 
 one foot of the land of his fore-fathers undher 
 a lase, an' even spakin' the language of his 
 country was a crime. [Applause.] Now, spakhi' 
 in truth, they repaled. these dismal, unpolitical 
 laws, not for any feelin' o' friendship or hu- 
 
SB THE RIVALS. 
 
 manity towards us, but merely to secure the 
 pace o* the Empire, an' to remove the dis- 
 grace they regaved in all the polished Coorts 
 o' the known world they visited, as they looked 
 upon them as base, savage, and unpolished 
 people. [Energetic applause.] But, gentlemen, 
 I have now a word or two to offer upon a 
 subject in which every Irishman must feel an 
 interest, I mane the state of our population. 
 Our enemies lately enacted two statues, just 
 intended for our destruction, the one called the 
 Vestry Bill Act, the other the Sub-letting Act 
 the former intended to impoverish us, the latther 
 to stop our growing population. [Cheers.] 
 But, friends," continued the orator, warming 
 with his success, *' will you hear to my opinion 
 of this statue? I congave it to be worse 
 than that enacted by Pharoah when he com- 
 manded that the male children of the Israel- 
 ites would be desthroyed, for this act, of which 
 I speak, destroys them both male and female, 
 
THE RIVALS. 39 
 
 [tremendous cheering,] by preventing the honest 
 husbandman from sharing his spot of ground 
 with his industrious children, and that it is well 
 known that the more the ground is cultivated 
 the more fertile it becomes. But let them re- 
 member, the more they decrease our population, 
 their own empire becomes more defenceless, 
 for, let it be enquired of his Excellency the 
 Commander in Chief, whether the Irish fought 
 as brave as any English or Scotch throops ever 
 undher his command in all his expeditions t 
 [Cheers.] Let them, on that footing then, continue 
 the sub-letting Act, if they like to become a prey to 
 some Napoleon, or some other haro of his kind. 
 [Cheers.] Then they will feel the fruits of 
 their own doin's, when we will be too old to 
 wield the swoord, an' they will have no young- 
 sthers to enter the service. [Great cheering.] 
 It is, then, that the sovereign of England will 
 have to say, as his Majesty George the Second 
 once said, when he expressed, ' Cursed be the 
 
40 THE RIVALS. 
 
 laws ' says he, ' that prevents my own subjects 
 from fighting in my own service, an' secures 
 victhory to my enemies.' With this defference, 
 that we will have no youngsthers to fight in 
 any service whatever. [Immense cheering.] As 
 for the Vesthry Bill Act, the people that made 
 that statue did not consider that if the minis- 
 theis o' the Church would be so base as to 
 put it in execution, their own rents would be 
 unpaid, an' they would in the end fall by their 
 own doin's. But, friends, I have said enough 
 upon tire subject, as I am thresspassin' too 
 much upon your time, [No ! no ! tremendous 
 cheering.] for to recite our wrongs would 
 cost an author, let alone me, a long life. 
 Therefore I will conclude by telling you that 
 the surest and most expeditious way to break 
 all those chains, is to live paceable with 
 those savages that daily want to raise us to 
 rebellion, to observe the laws in the sthrictest 
 manner, to avoid night-walkin' as the root of 
 
THE RIVALS. 41 
 
 all our misfortunes, and, of all the world, to beware 
 of any secret societies, for 1 can assure you, with 
 truth, that all who belong to any such community 
 are of little consequence in any concerns, unless 
 in violating the laws, an' going headlong to the 
 gallows." 
 
 And, with this pointed peroration, Lenigan 
 sat down, amid loud and long continued ap- 
 plause. • 
 
 Soon after, as the company became more 
 mirthful, Apollo was invoked to give addition- 
 al grace to an evening which had been already 
 brightened by Mercury and cheered by Bacchus 
 and Cytherea. In humbler phrase, several songs 
 were sung, the greater number of which owed 
 their principal fascination to a political or con- 
 troversial meaning hidden beneath the apparent 
 sense. Sometimes a fellow sung the adventures 
 of a mouse, which was sent off from Ireland to 
 the British senate, where 
 
42 THE RIVALS. 
 
 The Nobles all, both great and small, did wonder much to see 
 
 A m6use so small from Ireland, seeking for liberty. 
 
 There was a cat within that house, an' to the mouse did say, 
 
 * I doubt you are a stranger, I believe you're goin' asthray. 
 
 * I think you are a paddy mouse, an' when did you come o'er V 
 
 * This mornin', sir,' replied the mouse, * I landed on your shore. 
 
 * An' if I am a paddy mouse,' the mouse to him did say, 
 
 ' I doubt you are a buckish cat, an' I'm not goin' asthray. 
 
 * For I'm a son to Graunia, that sore laments for grief, 
 
 * An' she sent me to his Majesty, to grant her some relief.' 
 
 And then the company were favoured with 
 " The lamentation and gaol groans of Jere- 
 miah Hayes, for the murder of Ann M^ 
 Loughlin ;" ''A new and much admired song 
 on this present Parliament, and rising prosperity 
 of Ireland ; " ' ' Shauna Grien's meeting with 
 Graunia ; *' and other melodies equally sig- 
 nificant in their apprehension. 
 
 " Come, Misther Davy," said the young 
 foe to all ^ convarthers,' '' give us somethin' 
 sportin' now. 'Tis you that can sing a good 
 song, you know, when you have a mind." 
 
 " Erra, howl." 
 
 " Faix you can." 
 
THE RIVALS. 43 
 
 '* Do, Misther Davy," said the smith, <^ if 
 it is'nt makin* too bould to throuble you." 
 
 " No offence ; oh, no offence in life, Tom ; 
 but 1 declare I'm smothered from a great cold 
 in my throat this time back." 
 
 ^' Ayeh, that's the way always with the fine 
 
 songsthers." 
 
 *^ Faix, it is'nt o' purpose I speak ; but 
 
 I'm sure I'll do my best, an' what can I do 
 more ? " 
 
 *^ 'T would be hard to ax you." 
 ^* Were obleast to you, Misther Davy." 
 ^* I'll sing you a song, then," said Davy, 
 suddenly throwing off his reluctance, *' about 
 a set o' people that's very desarvin' for industhry, 
 an' that's the Peelers. For what would the 
 counthry do at all, if it was'nt for 'em ? 'Tis they 
 that airn their money well. There isn't a mouse 
 can squeak ; there isn't a calf can blate ; there 
 isn't a hen can clock a-near 'em, but they must 
 know what raison ! I'll engage there's few pigs 
 
44 THE RIVALS. 
 
 unring'd, or goats unspancelled, since they come 
 in the counthry ; an' I'm sure there's nobody that 
 saw the state o' the high roads but will allow 
 that there was no ho with the pigs until the 
 Peelers come into the barony." 
 
 And with this encomiastic prelude, Lenigan 
 launched out into his song : 
 
 A Banshee Peeler went one day on duty an' pathrollin', O, 
 He met a Goat upon the road, who seem'd to be a sthrollin',0, 
 Bayonet fixed, he sallied forth, an' caught hira by the weazand,0, 
 An' thundered out an oath that he would send him to New 
 
 [Zealand O. 
 
 II. 
 
 jNIercy, sir, exclaimed the Goat, pray let me tell my story, O; 
 I'm not a thief, a ribbon-man, a croppy, whig, or tory, O : 
 Banshee is my dwelling place, where I was bred an' born, O, 
 Descended fiom an honest race, its all the thrades T larned, 0. 
 
 It is in vain for to complain, or give your tongue such bridl?, O. 
 You're absent from your dwelliiig place, disordherly an' idle.O : 
 Your hoary locks will not prevail, nor your sublime oration, O ; 
 You'll be thransported by Peel's Act, upon my information, O. 
 
THE RIVALS. 45 
 
 Lettheconsequencebewhatitwill,a Peeler's power I'll let you know. 
 I'll handcuff you at all events, an' march you off to prison, O. 
 You villain, you cannot deny, before the judge or jury, O, 
 On you I found two pointed speai-s a threat'nin' me with fury, O. 
 
 I'm certain, if you were not drunk from whiskey, i-um, or brandy, O, 
 You would not have such gallant spunk, to be so bold an' manly, O. 
 Ah, says the Goat, you'd let me pass, if I had got the brandy, O ; 
 To thrate you to a sportin' glass, it's then I'd be the Dandy O. 
 
 This satire, extravagant as it was, upon a 
 hated race, was received by the hearers with a 
 degree of enthusiasm which it is difficult to repre- 
 sent in language. Shouts of bitter laughter, and 
 execrations sent forth between the clenched teeth, 
 showed plainly what a popular subject the satirist 
 had chosen for his target, and how well the singer 
 knew his audience. 
 
 Love-songs there were, the eternal burthen of 
 which was inconstancy and woe. The gay and 
 light-winged Cupid, who laughs, and waves his 
 
46 THE RIVALS. 
 
 pinions with such a joyous levity around the lyre 
 of the national lyrist, was here the very same in 
 sentiment, but floating on a coarser plumage, 
 and with the evil-spirit not so well concealed. 
 The rain however had now abated, and Francis 
 had left the house, with the intention of adopting 
 some mode of rescue for his ancient clients, 
 though none as yet appeared consistent with his 
 own safety. As he put his horse to a gentle trot, 
 the bursts of wild applause came frequent after, 
 and between, the voice of a young girl who had 
 been prevailed upon, all bashful and unwilling as 
 she was, to delight the ears of the company with 
 the song of the Green Bushes : 
 
 I'll buy you fine beavers, a fine silken gownd, 
 I'll buy you fine petticoats flounc'd to the ground, 
 If you will prove loyal and constant to me, 
 An' forsake your own true-love an' marry with me. 
 
 I want none of your beavers, nor silken hose 
 For I ne'er was so poor as to marry for clothes. 
 But if you'll prove loyal and constant to me 
 I'll forsake my own true love an' marry with thee. 
 
THE RIVALS. 47 
 
 Come, let us be going, kind Sir, if you please, 
 
 Come, let us be going from undher these threes, 
 
 For yonder he's coming, my true-love I see, 
 
 Down by the Green bushes, where he thinks to meet me. 
 
 When her true-love come there, an' he seen she was flown. 
 Oh, he stood like some lambkin, that bleats all alone : 
 She is flown with another, and forsaken me ! 
 Oh, adieu the Green bushes for ever ! said he. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 As he rode homeward in the dark, within a few 
 miles of his own residence, he was hailed by a 
 iigure on the road side, which, on nearer ap- 
 proach, he distinguished to be that of a young 
 woman. She waved her hand anxiously several 
 times, and seemed impatient for his approach. 
 
 '^ Is that you, docthor?" she said, as he 
 came nearer, '* Hurry in, hurry in, an' the 
 heavens bless you ! You never will overtake 
 him alive." 
 
THE RIVALS. 49 
 
 " Whom, woman V 
 
 '* Did'nt James tell you, sir? A man of 
 Misther Lacy's, that was servin' a process in 
 the mountains, an' a poor man that was in 
 the place had the misfortune of killing him." 
 
 ^' A man of Lacy's ?" exclaimed Riordan, 
 " bring me into the house immediately. I am no 
 doctor, my good woman, so lose no time in sending 
 for one, if you think it necessary." 
 
 He dismounted, and led his horse along 
 a narrow bridle road, following the steps of 
 the woman, who trudged along with the tail 
 of her gown turned up over her shoulders, 
 giving him at the same time an account of 
 the accident which had taken place. 
 
 " He was a very foolish man," said she ; 
 '* it was only this morning he took up two boys 
 o' the Hares for night - walkin', an' nothin' 
 could do him afther, but to go into the moun- 
 tain to serve a process upon one Naughtin, a 
 first cousin of their own. 'M sure what could 
 
 VOL. II. D 
 
.50 THE RIVALS. 
 
 he expect ? They gathered about him, and one 
 of 'em knocked him down, and anotlier made 
 him go upon his knees, and ate the process, 
 an' svvally it, an' take a dhrink o' wather afther, 
 to wash it down ; an', afther that, he got a blow 
 of a stone, from somebody or another, that des- 
 stroyed his head, an' indeed I'm afeerd he never 
 '11 do. Ah, sir, 'tis a frightful thing to see' a man 
 in that state when he is'nt aizy in his mind ! I 
 wished he had the priest, poor creature, for he's 
 one o' them that turned^ an' 1 declare I feel 
 for him." 
 
 They reached the cottage, which was crowded 
 with the country people. The wounded man was 
 lying in an inner room, which, likewise, was 
 thronged as full as it could hold. Looking over 
 the shoulders of the crowd, Francis could just 
 discern the bed on which the unfortunate vn retch 
 was laid, and around which a numjjer of faces 
 were gathered, some wearing an expression of 
 compassion, but by far the greater number 
 
THE RIVALS. 51 
 
 evincing either simple curiosity or a grim satis- 
 faction. The light of a small candle, the end of 
 which was crushed as^ainst the wall for the want 
 of a better candlestick, threw a dead and per- 
 plexing light upon the group. 
 
 " Is the doctor come?" said the wounded 
 man, in a tone of deep suffering, ** is there 
 no compassionate soul here that would get me 
 a docthor, to see am 1 to die or to live ?" 
 
 *' He's sent for," said an old woman, " he'll 
 be here immediately.^' 
 
 " The Lord forgive you !" said another, 
 *' many's the time you made work for the 
 docthors yourself, before now, an* the surgeons, 
 an* the undhertakers too." 
 
 " The Lord forgive you !" said a third, 
 ** the second year is'nt gone by since you 
 swore away the life of my poor husband for 
 nothing, and left me this way in rags, an' 
 my children fatherless, an' houseless, an' ap- 
 prenticed in their youth to beggary!'* 
 
 D 2 
 
 UBRARY . ^^^ 
 
.52 THE RIVALS. 
 
 " Oh, let the Lord forgive you, if he can!" 
 exclaimed a fourth. ** I had two brothers, as 
 strong and handsome as were ever seen at fair or 
 market place. One of them is lying in the 
 Croppy-hole, this year, and another is in the 
 wilds of New South Wales ; and it is you I have 
 to thank for that, and for my misery." 
 
 The wounded man regarded each of his 
 accusers, as they came forward and retired, 
 with a smile of grim and calm defiance, nor did he 
 appear in the slightest degree affected by the charges 
 which they launched against him in his agony. 
 
 . "^I,do not ask the Almighty to forgive him,'' 
 screamed a withered creature on the right of Fran- 
 cis — '^ I had but the . one — T had but the one 
 alone — an' that villain came across him an' des- 
 throyed me ! He left me childless — may the 
 Lord remember it to him in his own time ! He 
 left the widow's hearth-stone cold — may the Lord 
 make a widow of his wife, and orphans of his 
 own this pight." 
 
THE RIVALS. 5S 
 
 Again a grim smile of defiance crossed the pale 
 face of the sufferer, and showed that even this 
 imprecation had fallen harmless on his sleeping 
 conscience. 
 
 ** Shame! shame!" said Francis, '^ if any 
 thing could move you to forgiveness, it ought to 
 be the condition of the poor man who is suffering 
 before you.'* 
 
 *' Dont speak to me, sir," exclaimed the 
 woman, ^' I know you well, masther Francis, I 
 know you are our friend, but I know, likewise, 
 what 1 had, an' how I lost it. I can't forgive him 
 for my child's desthruction ! — I tell you it is an ease 
 to me to see his blood, an' a joy to my heart to 
 hear him groanin' with the anguish. An' see, if 
 there isn't another come to ask for blood of her 
 own at his hands. The mother of the Hares is 
 come to see you in your trouble," she added, 
 turning her face towards the bed. 
 
 At the same time^ the crowd separated 
 without, so as to allow the entrance of a 
 
54 THE RIVALS. 
 
 stranger, who presented an appearance some- 
 what superior to the people by whom she was sur- 
 rounded. She was dressed in deep mourning 
 stuff, with a widow's cap on her head, and a cloth 
 scapulary, of the order of the Blessed Virgin, 
 around her neck. Although her countenance 
 bore the traces of recent affliction, yet there 
 was a habitual calmness in her eyes, and around 
 her mouth, which gave an appearance of serenity 
 and even sweetness to the figure. 
 
 She walked to the bed-side of the patient, and 
 after pausing for a few moments in the attitude 
 of one who endeavours to outweary rather than 
 wrestle with a deep and agitating passion, she 
 said to the byestanders in her native tongue : 
 
 " This man, who lies here, once professed 
 the same faith and knelt at the same altar that 
 we do ourselves, fle deserted his creed, and 
 to those who asked him wherefore he had done so, 
 he replied, that he had discovered many errors 
 in our doctrine, and that the worship which he 
 
THE RIVALS. do 
 
 offered up in his present creed was of a purer 
 and loftier nature than he had ever used in ours. 
 I appeal to you, my friends and neighbours, 
 whether the course of his apparent life, since the 
 day of his change, has been such as to justify the 
 supposition of an improvement in his principles ? 
 Ah, say not that I judge him, when I answer. 
 No ! The blood of our fair, our young, our 
 virtuous, and our noble-hearted, give back the 
 judgment, and not I. This morning, he macie 
 me feel for myself as I had often felt for others 
 who had fallen into his power — he robbed me of 
 my two children, and I tremble for their blood, 
 for innocence is not a safe- guard in the grasp of 
 Lacy. Yet let this deserter of our faith behold 
 the influence of that doctrine which he has cast 
 from him and reviled. Behold ! " she continued^ 
 untying the strings of her widow's cap and 
 uncovering' a head of hair half silvered over 
 by the touch of age ; ^^ I make my head 
 bare, in the presence of Him who is to 
 
56 THE RIVALS. 
 
 judge us both, but do not tremble, murderer 
 though you be, for I come to give you, not 
 the mother's and the widow's curse, but the 
 mother's pardon in your dying hour. I forgive 
 you for my lonely hearth, for the fearful days 
 that I have passed, for the heart-aches and the 
 pangs I feel this moment. Go to your 
 Maker, if he call upon you, and tell him that 
 Mary Hare has washed the blood of her chil- 
 dren from your hands, and oh ! may he deal 
 lightly with you, for the stains that many a 
 broken heart beside has left there ! I know not 
 how these guiltless men may thrive, the times 
 have taught me to expect the worst, but let 
 their fate be what it may, I say, again, their 
 mother pardons you, their mother gives you her 
 forgiveness and her prayers." 
 
 Without waiting any reply, the woman at 
 these words glided out of the room, leaving 
 the company impressed with a strange and 
 solemn feeling, such as the novelty of such a 
 
THE KIVALS. 57 
 
 scene was calculated to excite. It was diffi- 
 cult to observe whether it produced any effect 
 upon the wounded man, for his countenance 
 scarcely changed, and his position remained un- 
 altered, but he did not receive it in the same 
 spirit of calm and steady, hate which he had 
 evinced amid the execrations which pre- 
 ceded it. 
 
 " I heard a voice, while ago," said the 
 sick man, ^^ that I would wish to hear again. 
 If there be a gentleman in this room who 
 will receive a dying man's last wishes, I will 
 thank him to draw near me.'' 
 
 With some difficulty Francis succeeded in 
 getting the apartment cleared, and after closing 
 the door, and throwing in the bolt, he took 
 a chair near the bed. The sick man turned 
 on him a ghastly and wandering eye, and then 
 sunk back, as if his suspicions had been fully 
 justified : 
 
 "You seem to know me?" said Francis. 
 D 6 
 
58 THE RIVALS. 
 
 ^* I do," replied the other, faintly, ^' and 1 
 think it a sign of grace from Heaven that 
 jou have come to me at this moment, for 
 that woman's shanachus was troubling my mind, 
 and J longed to ease my soul of one offence 
 at least before I die. I would'nt have minded 
 to the last the barking of those cabhi curs 
 that snarled where they dared not bite, but 
 bloody as my hands have been, there's some- 
 thing of the gentleman about my heart, and 
 the forbearance of that widowed wretch struck 
 through it. I should not like to meet the 
 Hares before a different court from that which 
 1 intended." 
 
 ^* You may make some reparation," said 
 Francis, ^' by revealing all you know of them 
 to me, and doing what you can to further the 
 ends of justice before you go." 
 
 The patient smiled at this, as at a very 
 simple speech. ''They call you bright," lie said, 
 but I think you ouglit to know more of humaa 
 
Till!. illVALS. 5f9 
 
 nature than to think that any persuasions of 
 your's could induce me to say more than this;'* 
 he pointed with his finger to the wound. — '' I 
 hope," he added after a pause, *' I hope my 
 cousins will take care that I have a decent 
 funeral. My father's covered a mile o' the road. 
 I am not so well liked in the counthry, but 
 may be when I'm dead they'd forget that 
 for me, in compliment to the family." 
 
 " Were you not rash, " said Riordan^^ 
 " to venture, unguarded, into tiie mountains'?" 
 
 '^ Aye, " said the other, quickly, '* there's 
 the point. I have been sacrificed. Lacy 
 took home the Police as soon as 1 had lodged 
 the Hares in goal, and would not lend a man 
 on any account. He knew that they were bent 
 on my destruction, for so my very murderer 
 told me, and he was glad of it, for he was 
 done with me, and he wished to be quit of 
 the reward he promised me. And so he sent 
 me, like Uriah to the battle, and so 1 fell. Ah, 
 
60 THE RIVALS. 
 
 Owen, cousin Owen. I wonder if your death- 
 bed will be like mine. Bid Owen pray for 
 me, wben you shall see him." 
 
 '* And Lacy, then, betrayed you V* 
 "^ And seeks your life, too ; look to it, I 
 warn you. This doctor will never see me alive. 
 The Hares are innocent. Have you a pencil 
 here?" 
 
 *' I have," said Francis taking out a pocket 
 
 book. 
 
 " Then take ray declaration while I am able 
 
 to speak it." 
 
 He revealed the entire of an atrocious 
 conspiracy formed upon the lives of the men 
 m question, which Francis copied carefully, and 
 treasured up against the examination on the 
 following morning. 
 
 " If this be not my death-wound, as I 
 fear it is," said the sick man, '• I will make 
 an effort to be upon the spot myself. But 
 if it should be other\^ise, remember wliat I have 
 
The rivals. 61 
 
 told you, look to yourself ! — I heard you take 
 my part against that vengeful hag, and even 
 though you had not, I owe a deep revenge 
 to Lacy, and you are so far lucky, that I save 
 your life to spite him. Ah, I am very weak. 
 You saved the Hares once, do not neglect 
 them now. I hope my cousins will not grudge 
 a little expense upon my funeral, I could wish 
 that Dick were there, but I suppose he is too 
 great a man to think of it. If Bill could 
 take it in hand, I'm sure it would be tasty, 
 but where's the use o' talking V 
 
 Doctor Jervas now arrived, to make an ex- 
 amination, and Francis departed, promising to 
 call again in the morning, on his way to the 
 sessions-house ; and leaving Tobin to the mercy 
 of the country people, some of whom exerted 
 themselves to draw from him some intimation 
 of the probable fate of the Hares ; while 
 others exhorted him to look into the state 
 of his unhappy soul, and to make a last 
 
62 THE RIVALS. 
 
 reparation for the scandal he had occasioned 
 by returning to the bosom of the faith he had 
 forsaken. Otherwise, the plainest hints were 
 thrown out, with respect to his approaching 
 destiny, and the most cogent arguments adduced 
 in support of the doctrines of that ancient 
 Church, which in the w^ords of a rural bard : 
 
 For fifteen hundred years, 
 
 As plainly doth appear. 
 Continued quite free from molestation, 
 
 Till woful heresy 
 
 And infidelity 
 Prevailed for to raise disconsolation. 
 
 But the medical attendant cut short the con- 
 troversy, and turned all the polemics out of 
 the room, leaving the renegade to his own 
 reflections, and entrusting the task of his 
 conversion to the less boisterous, but more 
 persuasive, reasoner within his bosom. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The fate of the brothers had excited a strong 
 interest throughout the district. Accordingly, 
 at an early hour on the following morning, a 
 considerable number of the country people 
 had collected around the neighbouring court 
 of petty sessions. Davy was there, and had 
 the satisfaction, while they waited the arrival 
 oi' the magistrates, of overwhelming Aaron 
 Shepherd with a host of arguments partly 
 
64 THE RIVALS. 
 
 original, partly deduced from the Profession 
 of Faith made by Pope Pius the fourth, the Fifty 
 Reasons of the Duke of Brunswick for embracing 
 the Catholic faiih, and various other sources. 
 
 Francis Riordan left his home, on this 
 morning, with feelings of no common pain. 
 Uncertain what the issue might be of his 
 publicly appearing in defence of those suspected 
 persons, with the recollection of his own im- 
 puted trespasses still hanging out against him, 
 he paused a moment ere he left his home. He 
 stole back again into Esther's chamber, stooped 
 down and kissed her, sleeping, and then departed 
 without farther hesitation.' 
 
 " It may be," he said, " that this vindictive 
 wretch may make his menace good against 
 my life — but what of that ? I was taught in 
 childhood to place my country foremost amongst 
 my affections, and I hope a few months' rest 
 aod quiet happiness have not unfitted me for 
 practising the lesson." 
 
THE RIVALS. 60 
 
 Richard Lacy expected the arrival of this 
 important morning with very different sensations. 
 After returning on the previous evening, from 
 one of his daily excursions, he was seen pacing 
 up and down before the hall-door of his house, 
 as if in anxious expectation of some messenger. 
 The rain began to descend, and he was com- 
 pelled, after having endured the shower for many 
 minutes in encreasing anxiety, to continue his 
 vigil in the parlour. 
 
 He rang the bell many times, and enquired 
 for different members of his household, who 
 were absent on business. At length, a horse- 
 man rode into the yard, and hurried up the 
 stairs, like one acquainted with the impatient 
 disposition of his master. Lacy, while his lips 
 quivered with eagerness, made an effort to 
 appear tranquil and indifferent while he asked 
 the question : 
 
 ** Well, Switzer, where is Tobin ? " 
 
66 THE RIVALS. 
 
 ''Dead, sir," answered the policeman, closing 
 his lips hard. 
 
 '* Dead ! " echoed Lacy, starting back with 
 a look and action of feigned concern and ill 
 concealed deliglit. " Is it certain, Switzer ? " 
 
 ^' I saw him down myself," replied the man, 
 " I saw him in the hands of bitter enemies." 
 
 *' Those murderous dogs!" said Lacy, ''thus 
 do we lose our most valuable friends, day after 
 day, amongst them. We must be early at the 
 Court to-morrow, and see those ruffians done for. 
 Get down and eat. Poor Tobin ! I will speak 
 with you, before I go to bed, again. At present, 
 I am not easy in my mind, I have much to think 
 of." 
 
 The man bowed, and left the room without 
 speaking. Lacy remained pacing up and down 
 rapidly for some moments, unwilling to acknow- 
 ledge, even to his own mind, the murderous ecstacy 
 he felt at being rid of so dangerous and insecure 
 a counsellor as Tobin. 
 
THE RIVALS. 67 
 
 " Let him rest in peace 1'^ he said at lengtli 
 aloud, ** and let me think of him no more. I 
 have the Hares to deal with. I hate them, for 
 the shadow of that fiend has been upon them 
 and hid them from the search of my revenge. 
 Alive or dead, their fate will spite him sorely, 
 and I have now the means to make it cer- 
 tain." 
 
 Having completed all his arrangements for 
 the approaching morn, he flung himself upon his 
 bed, and took such rest as usually haunts the 
 pillows of the impassioned and the guilty. 
 
 The interior of the petty sessions house, at 
 an early hour on the following morning, was 
 occupied by nearly the same actors as those who 
 appeared upon the scene in the first chapter of 
 our tale. On a bench at one end of a deal table, 
 sat Mr. Damer and his friend Mr. liConard, 
 nothing altered in appearance or condition by the 
 lapse of the intervening months. The door 
 was still closed, and a clerk sat at the end of the 
 
68 THE RIVALS. 
 
 table, busy in preparing his books and too far 
 apart to hear the conversation which was passing 
 between the two Magistrates. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Leonard, ^' now that I have 
 asked after the condition of your other stock, 
 your horses and your kine, will you tell me how 
 you find your neophytes ? Has the murrain of 
 Popery got amongst them once again?" 
 
 " I don't know how it is," replied his friend, 
 with an embarrassed smile, " there is less gratitude, 
 or less sincerity, amongst them than I believed." 
 
 '^ I know it well," returned Mr. Leonard, 
 '' the priest has coaxed them all back again, has 
 he not?" 
 
 '^ And people so convinced, so thoroughly con- 
 vinced, as they appeared to be I" 
 
 '' Convinced of what?" 
 
 '^Why, of the errors of theii' creed. They saw, 
 as plainly as I could desire, the excessive folly of 
 mariy of their ecclesiastical ceremonies, and the 
 profaneness of their subordinate articles of faith." 
 
t< 
 
 THE RIVALS. 69 
 
 Aye, but you know that was in spring, and 
 it is autumn now." 
 
 *' Well, why should a man's eyes be more 
 open before summer than after V 
 
 '* Because potatoes were thirty shillings a 
 barrel in spring, whereas now they may be had 
 for five." 
 
 Some other magistrates, dropping in at this 
 moment, cut short the dialogue, and the conversa- 
 tion became more general. 
 
 ** Well, Dickson," said Mr. Leonard, '' so you 
 won't allow me to make that little road to the 
 village?" 
 
 ^' I cannot consent to it, sir," returned the 
 gentleman so addressed, with a grave look '* I 
 think the road is not wanted, and besides, Mr. 
 Leonard, I thought you knew my principles. I 
 am a tory, sir." 
 
 '* Well, Mr. Evans, you're a whig. May 1 
 count on your voice ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly, Leonard, you may. But 
 
70 THE RIVALS. 
 
 then I must have yours in another matter of the 
 kind that I shall speak to you about another time." 
 
 " You may count upon it, Evans ; provided 
 you fling no job upon my hands." 
 
 '' Job! oh, fie! fie!" 
 
 The crowd were now admitted, and several 
 cases were dispatched, while they awaited the 
 arrival of Lacy, as the accuser of the Hares. 
 Some processes were issued, to recover for a 
 smith the price of a new spade ; for a weaver, 
 the worth of a piece of handle linen ; or for a 
 village carpenter, the cost of some repairs in in- 
 struments of husbandry. Then came the dire 
 account of trespasses and offences. A police- 
 man, with a long paper in his hand, containing 
 a list of parochial grievances, appeared at the 
 right hand side of the clerk^ prepared with law 
 and evidence 
 
 — t' impeach a broken hedge, 
 And pigs unring'd dii vis franc, pledge; 
 Tell who did play at games unlawful, 
 And who filled pots of ale but half full. 
 
THE RIVALS. 71 
 
 Complaints were made of, and fines inflicted 
 on, the barefooted proprietors of goats and 
 pigs found trespassing upon the highway, 
 notwithstanding all that human eloquence and 
 ingenuity could do on their behalf. Penalties 
 were imposed on publicans, for vending 
 whiskey at illegal times, and sundry other 
 nibblers of justice were reproved for their 
 audacity. 
 
 But in the midst of those affairs of lesser 
 interest, a general murmur of dislike, and hatred 
 ill subdued, announced the arrival of some un- 
 popular individual. The people in the sessions- 
 house judged that it was Lacy, and so it was. 
 The village Sejanus entered pale, and cadaverous 
 with anxiety, while his round, full, sparkling 
 eyes, glanced rapidly in all directions, to ascertain 
 what difficulties he might have to encounter in 
 tlie approaching effort. They alighted with some 
 appearance of dissatisfaction upon the form of 
 Mr. Leonard, but yet the concern of Lacy at 
 
72 THE RIVALS. 
 
 his presence was not considerable, for his talent 
 was not sufficient to render him a very formida- 
 ble opponent. 
 
 The Hares, two decent looking country- 
 men, with a remarkable family likeness of each 
 other, were then summoned to the end of the 
 
 table, and Lacy stood up to make his charge 
 against them, and to produce his informations. 
 The accusation which he made was briefly as 
 follows : 
 
 These two brothers were, he said, his own 
 tenants. They had been long applying to. him 
 for an abatement in their rent, which he had con- 
 stantly refused. At length, he received an 
 intimation, from a person in his employment, 
 named Tobin, that these two men, in company 
 with several others, meditated an attack upon his 
 house, with the view of compelling him to enter 
 into the terms which they desired. Their 
 rendezvous was at a ruined castle within a few 
 hundred paces of his residence, and he was 
 
THE RIVALS. 73 
 
 also made aware of the night on which the 
 project was to be put in execution. Accordingly, 
 he took care to be upon his guard,; and lay hid 
 within the ruin until the party should appear. 
 The two prisoners now before the magistrates 
 were the two who first appeared, and they were 
 instantly secured, and without much eclat. 
 Some unknown circumstance, however, had oc- 
 casioned the remainder of the party to take 
 alarm, and they did not appear at the place of 
 appointment. Tobin was now dead, fallen a 
 victim, doubtless, to his zeal upon this very oc- 
 casion, but Lacy had still enough of evidence to 
 make his allegations good. He had the police- 
 men who assisted in their apprehension, and 
 he bad a threatening notice in the hand- writing 
 of the elder Hare, which was nailed upon his 
 gate, and the purport of which was, that he 
 must either make up his mind to comply with 
 the reasonable demands of his tenants, or else 
 prepare his coffin. 
 
 VOL. ic. E 
 
74 THE RIVALS. 
 
 These facts were proved by the policemen 
 and others, and the threatening notice was 
 handed in, and examined by the magistrates. 
 The identity of the handwriting was proved by 
 several witnesses. 
 
 When the Hares were called upon for their 
 defence, a very fat and short-armed little man 
 arose. His dress was rather threadbare ; his eye 
 aifectedly subtle; and his mouth had got a 
 habitual twist to one side, from the custom of 
 speaking apart, inside his palm, to counsel 
 and others, in presence of the Court. He af- 
 fected some smart attitudes, in mimicry of law- 
 yers at 'the bar, darted his eyes knowingly on 
 both sides, and whispered a moment with the 
 elder Hare. He then stood up, nodded signifi- 
 cantly two or three times, and prepared to ad- 
 dress the magistrates. 
 
 *' I ask pardon," said Lacy, rising, with a 
 smile, ^^but I think this gentleman is an at- 
 torney?" 
 
THE RIVALS. 75 
 
 " Yes, I ?im concerned^' for the prisoners," 
 replied the legal minnow. 
 
 '^ Then," rejoined Lacy, '^it behoves the ma- 
 gistrates to stay a proceeding so much out of course. 
 It is already decided, by many precedents, that a 
 prisoner cannot be heard by attorney on his ex- 
 amination before a magistrate." 
 
 The attorney replied, quoted, looked angry, 
 railed and bullied, but Lacy overwhelmed him 
 with precedents, and he was compelled to retire, 
 uttering a storm of censures and menaces. 
 
 *' Oh, murther," said the younger Hare, ^'arn't 
 we to have the law, either ? Well, Mr. O ' Twist, 
 you wont keep our three and ninepence,f Sir, as 
 you can't be of any use to us ?" 
 
 He was answered by a storm of abuse ; the fat 
 lawyer protesting that he had sacrificed three other 
 clients to his anxiety on behalf of this pair of 
 
 * Employed on their behalf. 
 
 t The customary fee of those attornies who practice at Courts. 
 
 E £ 
 
76 THE RIVALS. 
 
 ingrates. And saving this, and brushing his hat 
 furiously round with the cuff of his coat, he 
 clapped it down upon his head, and left the 
 court, looking like a man who had been very ill 
 used. 
 
 The elder Hare was then called on by Mr. 
 Leonard, to deliver, in his own manner, an ac- 
 count of the transaction. The man, who was an 
 intelligent looking person, approached the table 
 with some anxiety of manner, and yet with an ap- 
 parent consciousness of right, which excited a 
 considerable degree of interest in his favour. 
 
 '* Please your worship," he said, '■'■ Mr. Lacy, 
 1 know, is a well-spoken gentleman, and 'tis little 
 use it will be for me, now that my attorney is 
 gone, to take it in hand to gainsay what he ad- 
 vanced ; but still I'll thry my endayvours. It was I 
 wrote that notice, surely, an' it was I, an' no one 
 else, that nailed it on the gate ; an' I'll tell you 
 v.by r done so. This Tobin, that they say is dead 
 ricw, ccme to me one day and asked me if I'd like 
 
THE RIVALS. 77 
 
 lo have my rent of my little farm abated ? — I told 
 him 1 would, why not? for it was that I was ask- 
 ing Mr. Lacy for, ever an' always. Because, says 
 -Tobin, Mr. Lacy wants to get an abatement him- 
 self from the head landlord, an' all he requires is 
 juist an excuse for lowering the rent to you. So 
 says he, it would be a good plan if you an' your 
 brother (manin' this boy here a near me), an' one 
 or two more, would get together some night, an' 
 post a threatenin' notice upon the gate, an', afthei 
 that, to come some night an' make an attack, by 
 way of a feint, upon the house, an' give him an 
 excuse for saying his life was in danger on ac- 
 count o' the rent. We did his biddin', an' we 
 fell into the snare they laid. Tobin set the crib 
 to catch us, and now IMr. Lacy comes to put the 
 goulogue* upon our necks." 
 
 A murmur of suppressed indignation passed 
 among the listeners, as the man concluded, but 
 
 * A forked stick, used to secure birds taken in a crib in 
 winter. 
 
78 THE RIVALS. 
 
 Lacy regarded him with a smile of calm reproof 
 and pity. 
 
 '' It is very well," said he, " the case is 
 stated with very great precision. It only remains 
 to oe seen in evidence that all this is not a fabri- 
 cation." 
 
 '' Have you the necessary proofs of this, 
 Hare?" asked Mr. Leonard. 
 
 *' Sure here's my brother that was by, the 
 whole time while Tobin was talking to me." 
 
 " I'll take the vestment of it,'* said the 
 brother. 
 
 '^ My good fellow," said Darner, while 
 they were smiling at the man's simplicity, 
 *' your brother lies implicated in the same accu- 
 sation that lies against yourself, and his testi- 
 mony can avail you nothing. Have you no 
 other evidence?" 
 
 " Have you no person to produce who was 
 piesent at those conversations with Tobin, 
 besides your brother?" 
 
THE RIVALS. 79*^ 
 
 ** There was nobody by, exceptin' myself 
 an' Thade," replied the prisoner. 
 
 " You have no witness, then?" asked Leonard 
 in a tone of commiseration. 
 
 " No witness," said the man, falling into 
 a desponding attitude. 
 
 *' No witness," cried Lacy, starting up with 
 
 the rapid action of one who is hurried on by 
 sudden passion. *' No witness ! and behold 
 him standing there with the black libel yet upon 
 his lips, baffled in the vilest calumny that hate 
 and disappointment ever hatched. He has no 
 witness ! not even among his gang of perjured 
 
 accomplices can he find one so impudent as to 
 support him in that shameless falsehood. This 
 is the fate of loyal gentlemen in times like 
 these. I have wrenched the dagger from the 
 assassin's hand, and he strives to stab me 
 
 with his tongue. He has no witness " 
 
 "Yes," cried a voice from the crowd, "he 
 has one." 
 
80 THE RIVALS. 
 
 Lacy paused, his hand still clenched, out- 
 stretched, and his forehead gathered into the 
 frown of denunciation, while an individual 
 made his way through the throng, and came 
 forward to the table. The stranger was wrapt 
 in a travelling cloak, and his hat, whether by 
 accident or affectation, was brought low upon 
 his brow. 
 
 '* I can give evidence," he said in a low 
 voice, ^* in favour of the prisoners." 
 
 *' And your name, sir ?" asked Mr. 
 Leonard. 
 
 The stranger paused a moment, lowered 
 his face, pressed his hand upon his brow, and 
 seemed to be debating with himself a point 
 of vital consequence. At length he raised 
 his person, and said, in the same subdued 
 voice : 
 
 *' My name is Riordan, Francis Ri- 
 ordan." 
 
 " It is ! I knew it \" cried Lacy, now for 
 the first time springing from that attitude 
 
THE RIVALS. 81 
 
 in which he had been interrupted, into one of 
 more ecstatic energy. — " I knew the rebel 
 under his disguise. 'Tis his accomplice and 
 his old protector ! Up, gentlemen, if you are 
 loyal men, and see that traitor handcuffed." 
 
 '^ Hold !" cried Riordan, gently raising one 
 hand, and putting back with the other the 
 hat which had in part concealed his features. 
 '^ It is true; my name is Riordan, as I said, 
 and I am this man's friend. I have proved 
 it well this morning. But there is no occasion 
 for the violence which Mr. Lacy recommends. 
 I am come here to deliver myself into the 
 hands of these gentlemen, who will no doubt 
 see justice fully doiie without that stormy zeal 
 which he deems necessary." 
 
 ^* It shall be done !" said Lacy, fiercely. 
 
 ** It shall !" echoed Francis, " to your perfect 
 satisfaction. Aye, Lacy, you shall have it 
 brimming full. — You have laid treason at, my 
 door, and I will point it out lurking behind 
 
 E f) 
 
82 THE RIVALS. 
 
 your own. You have called me rebel, falsely 
 called me so, but I will make the same 
 charge good against yourself, by evidence as 
 palpable as matter. A double rebel, false to 
 your king, and darkly, covertly false to the 
 hand that makes you what you are. That 
 man's defence is true and literal," he added, 
 handing over a paper to the magistrates. *^ I 
 have it from the lips of Lacy's own accomplice, 
 the betrayed, the deserted Tobin. There is 
 his declaration." 
 
 It was read aloud, and Lacy employed 
 the respite thus afforded him in spinning a 
 new clue to free himself from the labyrinth in 
 which he became so unexpectedly entangled. 
 
 ** The calumny," he said, ^* is strongly built, 
 and shows fairly, on the face, but there is still 
 a flaw in the foundation. What proof is there 
 that this is Tobin*s writing ?" 
 
 ** My oath — A hundred oaths." 
 
 '^ Aye, oaths enough ! They are now as 
 
THE RIVALS. 83 
 
 plentiful as western winds. The word of 
 Heaven is now sent far and wide, throughout 
 this kingdom, but it is only used to multiply 
 the opportunities of perjury. For this, good 
 men have met, and holy men have prayed, 
 for this the wealth of Britain melts down 
 before the feet of her apostles ; that they may 
 be reviled and mocked, and that falsehood 
 and treason may need no means to give as- 
 surance to their calumnies. Such are the 
 oaths that you can tender us, and such are 
 the oaths against which the whole course of 
 a life of undeviating loyalty gives feeble and 
 unavailing testimony." 
 
 ^^ One oath at least, I have," replied the 
 witness calmly, ^* which even you cannot im- 
 peach." 
 
 *' Even there, even with that precious gem 
 of perjury to decorate your falsehood, you 
 still are foiled and baffled. This is not Tobin's 
 dying declaration." 
 
84 THE RIVALS. 
 
 '' How ?" 
 
 *' The law declares that documental testimony 
 is only admissible when the witness has 
 supplied it under the firm belief that life 
 was on the wing. What proof have we of 
 this?" 
 
 ^* Is the law so merciful?" said Francis, 
 turning to the magistrates with an appealing 
 look, and a smile of mingled satisfaction and 
 surprize. 
 
 *' Consult the statutes, consult Philips, 
 consult Macnally, gentlemen," cried Lacy, with 
 a triumph flashing in the eyes. 
 
 " The document is worthless," murmured 
 Riordan, ** \ have no proof; 1 do not know, 
 myself, that Tobin had resigned all hope of 
 life." 
 
 *^ And this, then," exclaimed Lacy, with a 
 satisfaction ill concealed by the show of in-- 
 dignation he thought it useful to assume — 
 *Uhis is the sum of all that mass of evidence 
 
THE RIVALS. 85 
 
 which was meant to overwhehn my character, 
 and sink the brand of treason into my door ! " 
 
 '^ Not all," said Riordan, ^^ I have yet one 
 witness left. Tobin/' he cried, " come for- 
 ward ! " 
 
 The crowd was again in motion, and Lacy 
 shrunk back as if a lightning-flash had crossed 
 him. Supported by a countryman, pale-faced 
 and feeble, with a kerchief bound about his 
 battered head, Tobin came forward trembling 
 to the table. Had he been visibly summoned 
 from the grave, with all its funeral suits and 
 trappings wrapt around him, he could not have 
 appalled the heart of Lacy with a shock of deeper 
 terror and despair. He remained set in the 
 attitude of sudden fear, and stared hard, as if in 
 presence of a supernatural appearance. 
 
 *' Yes ! " exclaimed Riordan, pointing to 
 the wounded man, and gazing fixedly on his per- 
 secutor ', '' there is the witness whose testimony 
 I said even you could not impeach, for his was 
 
86 THE RIVALS. 
 
 the evidence which you have most employed 
 against the lives and fortunes of your fellow-coun- 
 trymen. His oath will make that declaration 
 good, and the cloke shall be torn from your raw 
 designs, and you shall be unmasked to the world 
 for the subtle rebel, and the double traitor that 
 you are." 
 
 *' For one who boasts of right upon his side," 
 muttered Lacy, with a ghastly sneer, '^ you are 
 vehement enough." 
 
 *' I am ! I love to lay the blow home on 
 such a back as yours," said Riordan warmly. 
 ^* Were you only foolish, I could be content 
 to laugh at you ; were you only malicious, 1 
 might be satisfied to despise you ; were you 
 only ignorant of good, it might content me to 
 avoid you ; but when I see that ignorance, that 
 folly, and that malice united in one dark and 
 subtle heart, its owner becomes a subject for 
 the lash, and that lash I will never spare to such 
 as you, while I have a hand to lay it on." 
 
THE KIVALS. 87 
 
 ** You say well," said Lacy, seizing the ad 
 vantage which Riordan's vehemence afforded him, 
 *' and I might fear you too, if rant could strengthen 
 falsehood.'* 
 
 " Liar, and hangman as you are !" cried the 
 young soldier, wholly abandoning his self-com- 
 mand, *' leave law to those who love it. Come 
 out, and give me the satisfaction of a gentleman 
 with the weapon of a soldier. Come out, and 
 meet me on the level field, if old defeats have 
 not made a coward of you ! I say, come 
 out, and make that saying good upon me, if ye 
 <lare ! " 
 
 The grim and eager smile with which his 
 enemy regarded him, showed with what a horrid 
 rapture he w^ould have answered the summons, 
 if deeper interests had not prevented him. The 
 energy of voice, and look, and action, on both 
 sides, was so terrific, that it was some time 
 before even the magistrates, armed with all the 
 influence of authority, would venture to interfere 
 
88 THE RIVALS. 
 
 between the hostile spirits. But they did at 
 length interpose, and were obeyed. 
 
 " Another time/' said Lacy. 
 
 *^ Another time, then," echoed Riordan. 
 ^y Meanwhile the witness waits." 
 
 '^ Pardoa me," said Lacy, addressing him- 
 self to the magistrates, ^' I have a word or two 
 to offer. Il was told me last night that Tobin 
 was murdered in the hills, and I was so convinced 
 of his death, that I have seldom felt a more sin- 
 gular astonishment than his sudden re-appearance 
 at that table excited. I regretted his loss ex- 
 tremely, for he was a useful friend, and I owed 
 him much which I longed to repay ; I grieved 
 that I had not sooner acquitted myself of obliga- 
 tions which he had long before laid on me. 
 [These words were accompanied by a covert 
 slance at the witness, which was withdrawn the 
 instant the speaker saw that it was understood.] 
 I have now to solicit that these prisoners be re- 
 manded, and that the examination be deferred 
 
THE RIVALS. 89 
 
 for one night; a request which I think cannot 
 appear extraordinary, considering the new turn 
 that affairs have taken." 
 
 To this request, apparently so reasonable, 
 Francis could offer no objection, without in- 
 curring the reproach of virulence, and it was 
 acceded to without farther question. The pri- 
 soners were remanded ; and Lacy was then asked 
 what he had to adduce against Riordan that 
 might touch his personal liberty? So downcast 
 was he by the resurrection of his victim, and 
 perplexed by his own embarrassed situation, that 
 he could offer no accusation whatever. 
 
 '■'■ At present," said he, ^' 1 have not my 
 evidence prepared. 1 will say more here- 
 after." 
 
 '^ Then you have no objection," said Leonard, 
 '■^ to his being abroad to-night upon his own re- 
 cognizances ?" 
 
 '' None," muttered Lacy, in a sullen 
 
90 THE RIVALS. 
 
 tone. And his only relief was in the look of 
 disappointed hate and malice which he sent 
 after his successful enemy, as he left the ses- 
 sions house. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The next morning, when Francis arrived at the 
 sessions house, he found that the affair had taken 
 a still stranger turn than before. Lacy did not 
 appear : he was confined to his house by illness, 
 and Tobin seemed to have undergone the influ- 
 ence of some magician in the night. He had 
 lost all recollection of the document which he 
 had furnished to Francis Riordan, and he was 
 unable to supply any evidence whatever respect- 
 ing the conspiracy which was yesterday alleged 
 
92 THE RIVALS. 
 
 with SO much perseverance. No reason could be 
 discovered for this change of sentiment, and no 
 remedy was to be found. 
 
 Neither was there any effort made to renew 
 the ancient charge against young Riordan. He 
 remained at liberty, and received one or two 
 sionificant hints from Mr. Leonard that there was 
 little fear of any attempt being made to place it 
 under any restriction. 
 
 The conduct of tne prisoners, his proteges, 
 likewise seemed extraordinary in the eyes of 
 Francis. They seemed perfectly contented with 
 their situation and not ia the least dismayed when 
 fully committed for trial. One of them, who 
 saw him look uneasy and surprized, told him 
 that he need not feel the least alarm upon their 
 account, though he could not at that moment let 
 him know the cause of the security he felt. The 
 mystery was cleared however, at the following 
 assizes, whore both the brothers were discharged 
 for want of a prosecutor. 
 
THE RIVALS. 93 
 
 The reader may, without any effort at detail 
 oil the part of the historian, imagine all the con- 
 sternation and delight with which Esther was 
 once more received amongst her friends. It 
 consoled her uncle for the failure of his cherish- 
 ed schemes of religious amelioration in the 
 cabins, and old Aaron for the defeat which he 
 had sustained at the hands of Davy Lenigan. 
 
 From that time forward, the habits, the cha- 
 racter and the health of Lacy, seemed to have 
 undergone a singular alteration. His enmity, 
 his love, and his ambition, appeared to have been 
 all together blasted. He appeared but little in 
 public, and the virulence of his animosity against 
 his humble neighbours was observed to soften 
 and abate by slow degrees. In a few months, 
 his name was seldom heard in courts of justice, 
 was seldom seen at the head of committals in 
 the public prints, and at length sounded in the 
 ears of those who heard it, like that of one de- 
 parted from the world. There was a mixture of 
 
94 - THE RIVALS. 
 
 kindliness and pity in the tone with which his 
 name w as mentioned among cottage circles, which, 
 more than all besides, demonstrated the altera- 
 tion which had taken place in Lacy's character. 
 
 It was with a feeling of sincere concern and 
 pity, likewise, that Esther learned, in some months 
 after, that her disappointed admirer w^as danger- 
 ously ill, and supposed, indeed, to have already 
 reached a hopeless stage in his disease. She was 
 seated at table, when the account arrived, and it 
 affected her deeply and visibly ; for she well 
 knew that, w^hatever Lacy had been to others, he 
 had always loved her with a deeper and a truer 
 passion than men so evil minded generally feel. 
 
 From day to day the accounts became more 
 alarming, and^at length, a messenger, sent specially 
 by Francis, for the purpose of enquiring into the 
 condition of the sufferer, returned with astonish- 
 ment upon his countenance to say that Mr. Lacy, 
 though unable to leave his room for two 
 days before, had suddenly disappeared from 
 
THE RIVALS. 95 
 
 amongst his attendants, and fled, no one knew 
 whither. 
 
 Disturbed by this intelligence, Esther arose 
 and walked out into the air, while Francis 
 mounted his horse, and rode across the mountains 
 to oft'er whatever assi-stance lay within his power. 
 
 The evening was calm, and Esther sat to 
 enjoy it in a rustic seat, placed in a corner 
 of the solitary mountain recess in which Lough 
 
 B was situated. Before her lay the lake, 
 
 a still and dark expanse, crossed by a few 
 broad gleams of light from the western extremity.. 
 On the opposite side, a solemn precipice sunk 
 suddenly upon the level water, its sides rugged 
 with granite, intertangled with stunted shrubs, its 
 forehead bald and frowning, and its foot slippered 
 in a moss of the tenderest green, which the 
 vassal waters kissed in silent veneration. On 
 
 the right hand, a small cascade just served to 
 deepen the sense of solitude on the mind of 
 the beholder. On the left, the shore scarce 
 
96 THE RIVALS. 
 
 rose above the surface of the lake, and the 
 summits of some distant hills, which appeared 
 above the undulating heath, suggested the idea 
 of an interminable extension of the vale which here 
 commenced. Around the shores of the craggy 
 side, the shrubs were silvered with a dripping 
 moisture, occasioned by the oozing from another 
 lake, which lay at a loftier elevation on the 
 other side of the mountain. 
 
 In a boat, on the lake, was a servant of the 
 house, who was employed in angling for some 
 grey trout. Esther w atched him pulling .gently 
 to the land, drawing in his skiff, and carrying 
 his net well loaded to the house, without stirring 
 from her attitude of contemplation. 
 
 In this situation, she was surprized by the 
 appearance of several peasant children, who 
 were advancing by the winding road that led 
 out of the valley. They were all attired in 
 white, and one, a peachy cheeked boy of five 
 or six years of age, held in his arms a kind 
 
THE RIVALS. 97 
 
 of effigy, dressed up in female habiliments, 
 and having the breast bone of a goose as 
 a succedaneum for the human countenance. 
 When they came in sight of the lady, they 
 suddenly halted, and a whispering consultation 
 ensued, which from the stooping position of 
 many of the figures, seemed to consist of certain 
 words of encouragement and counsel, addressed 
 to the bearer of the effigy. Advancing then 
 within a few paces of the seat on which Esther 
 lay expecting them, they separated, and fell 
 back on either side, suffering the little fellow 
 to advance alone, and speak for them to the 
 lady. Esther watched his demeanour in this 
 awful crisis with a natural interest. Looking 
 up in her face, with a bold smile, and a 
 blush, which was the only mark of conscious 
 hardihood in his appearance, he said with great 
 distinctness : 
 
 '^ Good morrow, ma'am." 
 
 Good morrow, sir/' replied Esther, smiling, 
 
 VOL. II. F 
 
 << 
 
§Q THE RIVALS. 
 
 but relaxing nothing of her stateliness, nor in 
 any way assisting him. 
 
 " Somethin', ma'am, for Miss Biddy, if you 
 please." 
 
 "And who is Miss Biddy, sir?" 
 This was not in the little fellow's lesson, 
 and he looked sidelong over his shoulder for 
 assistance from the prompter. A girl, some- 
 what older, and with a sisterly resemblance 
 in the face, advanced a step or two, and said, 
 with a downcast eye and a timid accent : 
 " Saint Bridget, ma'am, if you please." 
 ^' And who is Saint Bridget, love?" 
 This again was a question too deeply the- 
 ological for any head in the little assembly, and 
 they all looked at one another with puzzled 
 and enquiring eyes. But as Esther, although 
 a conscientious protestant, was not, in the 
 language of the cottagers, a " convarther," 
 she did not think it necessary to press it any 
 farther. Recollecting that the following day 
 
fHE RIVALS. 99 
 
 was the anniversary of the saint above named, 
 and remembering also the village customs, which 
 used to afford her so much delight in her 
 infancy, she placed a liberal donation in the 
 hand of *' Miss Biddy's " youthful advocate, 
 and had the pleasure of seeing the whole party 
 hurry off, whispering together and conversing 
 in suppressed exultation. 
 
 " 1 hardly know what my uncle might say," 
 she murmured to herself, " if he knew that I 
 encouraged so profane a ceremony. But what- 
 ever claims the great virgin of Kildare might 
 lay upon me in a religious point of view, I 
 cannot avoid feeling some interest in the name, 
 when I recollect that it has suggested one 
 of the Irish melodies." 
 
 Scarcely had she uttered these words, when 
 a low hoarse voice, at her ear, said, in a tone 
 of deep anxiety and earnestness : 
 
 '* Be not alarmed, Esther ! Let me entreat 
 you, Esther, not to feel any alarm." 
 
 F 2 
 
100 THE RIVALS. 
 
 She sprung to her feet at the sound of this 
 startling voice, and, looking back with great 
 rapidity, beheld a figure that sent a shivering 
 through every nerve within her frame. Richard 
 Lacy was standing underneath a fading labur- 
 num ; his attire of a meaner appearance than 
 had ever been usual with him ; his face (to use 
 a powerful and untranslateable French expression) 
 utterly decharnt ; his eyes sending out a wild 
 and sickly fire, and his whole figure wearing 
 the plain and visible marks of diminished for- 
 tunes, of ruined hopes, and faded energies of 
 mind and person. 
 
 '^ I, too,'' he said, perceiving the irrepres- 
 sible emotion and surprize with which Esthei 
 gazed upon him, ^' I, too, you see, can play 
 the spectre when I please." And he pointed 
 with a horrid smile to his ghastly countenance, 
 and then to his attenuated frame. 
 
 *^ Mr. Lacy !" Esther said, in a low voice, and 
 panting with agitation. 
 
THE RIVALS. 101 
 
 " And yet," he continued, with the same 
 ghastly calmness in his utterance, '' it is but 
 the rehearsal of a part that I must soon be 
 called to enact in gloomy truth. They are 
 calling for me fast, but I am come here first to 
 finish my last scene before your eyes, for I have 
 loved your praise, once, far too well. I could 
 not die, Esther, without bidding you farewell, not 
 that 1 fear it yet for many a day, but it is 
 possible." 
 
 '' Oh, do not say it." 
 
 '^ Wherefore should I not ? " he exclaimed 
 with sudden passion — '* Why do you bid me 
 not ? I cotdd tell you who has brought me to that 
 point. I know, and you know, wlio it is that made 
 this world look worthless in my eyes, mid 
 crossed my life with torture, disappointment, woe 
 and want ; and yet you bid me to remain among 
 the miseries which that one has spread about 
 me, you bid me hug the rack to which that one 
 has bound me ! I could tell you who it is, but 
 
102 THE RIVALS. 
 
 I will not ; — for I love you — deeply, to the 
 death, I love you — Ah, shrink not from the decla- 
 ration of a dying man." 
 
 '' Dying ! '' 
 
 '^ Aye, dying, though it be by morsels. 
 Dying a fearful and despairing death ; dying all 
 full of blood y all hopeless ; all dismayed ; aye, for 
 the first time, all dismayed with my forebodings ! " 
 
 *' Oh, do not — do not speak so shock- 
 ingly -" 
 
 " What should I do? " 
 
 ''Repent !" 
 
 '' Of what? Count me up, first, the sum 
 of that which I have laid upon my soul ; and 
 
 number, then, the years which this worn frame 
 is fitted to outlive, and see if I have tnne to 
 wash the mass away. The fiends have got the 
 better of my courage. I could not bear the 
 horrors of my bed at night. Such shapes — such 
 shrieks — such menaces — such dreams of horror 
 and of anguish. They told me that I had 
 no chance of life, and yet they wished to tie 
 
THE RIVALF. 103 
 
 me down to all the horrors of solitude and re- 
 collection. But I could not bear the fever in 
 my mind, and I hurried from that troubled host 
 of thoughts, to look for peace and pity and 
 refreshment in your presence." 
 
 '< Oh, would I could afford it !" exclaim- 
 ed Esther, with great earnestness and warmth. 
 
 *' But you cannot," cried Lacy, bitterly. 
 *^ They tell me, at my house that I am changed ; 
 they think, because my looks and actions are no 
 longer what they were, that I am altered too in 
 mind and in affection. Because they tee not the 
 fever of ambition burning in my eye, they think 
 ' I am content ; because they mark not the working 
 of hate upon my brow and lip, they think I -am 
 appeased ; because they see not the turmoil of 
 love in all my conduct and my speech, they 
 think I am resigned. But they deceive themselves. 
 The evil spirits have not left my bosom, but they 
 have done their work, and they are slumbering 
 withi|i their house. I am still disgusted with the 
 
104 THE RIVALS. 
 
 thing I am, although I make no effort to become 
 Mhat I would be. I still detest — abhor my 
 enemy, although it be with an inactive hatred ; 
 I love you still, though with a hopeless pas- 
 sion." 
 
 " Believe me, believe me," said Esther, ^^ 1 
 feel for you." 
 
 '* And is that much?" the half delirious man 
 exclaimed, standing erect, and knitting his 
 brows upon her, '^ Is that so wonderful ? For you, 
 Esther, I would have been the glorious thing that 
 I have failed to become ; and for you have I be- 
 come the miserable thing I am ! Great Justice !" 
 he exclaimed, throwing up his arms and remaining 
 in an attitude of despairing wonder, '^ Is this the 
 end of all my early projects, of all my hope, of 
 all my love ? The innocent have died — the sinless 
 wept — my hands have become clammy with gore. 
 I am loaded with the curses of bereaved thous- 
 ands, the world labours to heave me from its 
 breast, and the dreaded deep roars for me like a 
 
THE RIVALS. 103 
 
 hungry monster — ana this is all my ease, that 
 Esther feels for me !" 
 
 <' Oh, Richard ! Richard !" 
 
 Not before, in this interview, had Esther ven- 
 tured to address him thus famiUarly by his Chris- 
 tian name. The suggestion of mtimacy which it 
 conveyed struck through his bosom with a soften- 
 ing influence ; he clasped his hands, bent gradu- 
 ally forward, and every limb appeared to feel the 
 quickening agitation. Esther, feeling her power, 
 resolved to use it for his benefit. 
 
 ^* Richard/' she said, ^' if you have loved me, 
 as }'Ou say, grant me this one request — " 
 
 Perceiving that he did not move, she laid her 
 hand upon his arm, and repeated, in a softened 
 voice, ** Richard !" 
 
 He looked on her with an expression of the 
 most intense pleasure, and said, '^ What weuld 
 you, Esther? What must I do for you ?" 
 
 '' Return to your home," said Esther, bursting 
 into tears, and extending her hands towards him 
 
 F o 
 
106 THE RIVALS. 
 
 in deep pity — "Repress those horrid fancies; 
 live, and be Esther's friend ! Oh, do not yield 
 that strong and gifted mind to false and de- 
 structive imaginations. Whatever may have 
 been your faults, you have much to hope, for 
 you have been strongly, terribly tempted. A 
 single OUQ of those many passions, which have 
 consumed y&ur ^uth, might have sufficed for 
 the endangering of many a soul. Despair not 
 then, for your own sake — for mine. Return 
 to your home, employ your days in offices of 
 benevolence and kindness, deserve all that you- 
 can, and believe me, I know, I feel, that there 
 is much within your power.'' 
 
 The unfortunate Lacy listened to her with 
 motionless attention, and seemed, when she had 
 made an end, to feel regret that he could not 
 continue to enjoy the happiness he felt in 
 hearing her. He then folded his arms, and re- 
 mained some moments with his eyes dilated, 
 and fixed in mournful meditation on the earth. 
 
THE RIVALS* H)7 ' 
 
 '* Esther," he said at last, " that one sup- 
 port, at least, is left for me — Whether I suc- 
 ceed or fail, at least remember that I obeyed 
 you at the instant. Whatever be the colour of 
 the repute that may remain after me, remember 
 that to you, at least, I was not guilty of any 
 error; whether I die detested ov forgiven, forget 
 not that to you, at least, 1 lived sincere, un- 
 changing, and devoted." 
 
 He took her hand in his, shook it twice 
 with great force, regarding her at the same 
 time with the air of despairing resolution which 
 one feels at resigning for ever a sole and ruling 
 hope. He then walked up the pathway, con- 
 tinuing to turn upon her the same heart shat- 
 tered gaze, until he was hid by the interposing 
 shrubs. When she could no longer behold 
 him, Esther sunk down upon the seat which 
 she had left, and relieved herself by crying 
 bitterly. 
 
 He kept his word with Esther, in adopting 
 
108 THE RIVALS. 
 
 the course of life which she recommended ; 
 but the shock which his health had uiidergoi^ 
 was too severe, and he died before the year 
 was ended. This event was regarded by some 
 with pity, and by the greater number with in- 
 diiference. Whether the change in his conduct 
 were effected by the influence of true repent- 
 ance, or merely a new direction given to the 
 ruling passion ; whether it was found available 
 or otherwise, are questions not to be solved on 
 earth: but, as we know that the just Author of 
 human nature always proportions his mysterious 
 aids to the violence of those passions which he 
 has implanted in the heart, it may be hoped 
 that Lacy's exertions were not made in 
 vain. 
 
TRACY'S AMBITION. 
 
 vol. II. 
 
TRACY^S AMBITION, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 r EW persons in this world, I believe, ever 
 led a life of more equable prosperity than 
 mine, until my years approached that period 
 when the fortunes of most men cease to be 
 stormy, and the passion for adventure has 
 died away, or given place to a longing for 
 domestic peace and comfort. I was one of a 
 race who may be considered the only tenants 
 of land in my native Island. Our castle 
 
 # F 2 
 
112 TRACY S AMBITION. 
 
 owners, above us, and our cabin holders, below, 
 are both men of estate ; while we occupy the 
 generous position of honorary agents to the 
 former, serving to collect their rents in a trouble- 
 some country ; and of scape goats on whom the 
 latter are enabled to repose the burthen of rent, 
 tythes, and county charges. 
 
 1 was, for any thing I could ever learn to the 
 contrary, a happy man. My wife, Mary, though 
 superior to me in birth and education, was gentle 
 and affectionate, and my daughter Ellen was not 
 only a beauty, but an excellent house-keeper. 
 But, let me here inform you how I was fortu- 
 nate enough to conclude a matrimonial engag^- 
 ment, in which the advantage in rank and almost 
 every other circumstance, was on my side. 
 
 It was. Ladies, an elopement. 1 was standing, 
 on a sultry day in Autumn, amongst a crowd of 
 persons, who were witnessing the races of a well 
 known city in our neighbourhood. The course 
 occupied a space of some miles around a gentle 
 
Tracy's ambition. il3 
 
 acclivity, on the summit of which was a stunted 
 obelisk of modern architecture, which on this 
 occasion displayed a flag of gay device. The 
 whole side of another hill, which arose on the 
 farther side of the course, between me and the 
 city, seemed to be one fluctuating mass of life. 
 It was covered with a black multitude, over which 
 the bright sunshine shed its heavy autumnal splen- 
 dour, glittering occasionally with a more gay 
 and marked eflfect on the white kerchiefs and 
 scarlet mantles which enlivened the darker ground 
 work of the scene. It resembled a moving lake 
 of black hats and brisk caps and bonnets, inter- 
 mingling its contents in a hundred eddies, and 
 receiving tributary streams from the many path- 
 ways which led over the fields and hedges from 
 the city. The tents, as tattered as the robe of 
 Julius Cajsar, the casks of liquor, the shining 
 drinking vessels set forth at the entrance of each ; 
 the grotesque signs, the stand-house, the band, 
 the equij^ages filled with flaunting silks and 
 
 ^ F 3 
 
If4 TRACY^S AMBITION. 
 
 muslins, and the mass of equestrian spectators 
 who made the field shake under them from time 
 to time, contributed to render the scene not a 
 little exhiliraling. 
 
 I teaned against a stunted tree, after the heats 
 were ended, listening to the conversation of some 
 country people who were seated on the short 
 sun-burnt grass, eating gingerbread and slily 
 passing round under cover of the women's blue 
 cloaks, a bulky substance, which from the use 
 made of it, I judged to be a quart bottle. The 
 people were descending from the various emi- 
 nences which they had occupied for the advan- 
 tage of seeing the course, and the tents became 
 too narrow and scanty for the numbers who were 
 anxious to obtain refreshment within. The carri- 
 ages and horsemen, surromided by clouds of dust, 
 were rapidly whirling off in the direction of the 
 city, and, in a little time, most of the respectable 
 spectators had taken the way homeward. 
 
 Suddenly, a low, harsh sound, resembling 
 
Tracy's ambition. 115 
 
 that occasioned by the inundation of a great 
 mass of waters, arose from the multitude, and 
 made me turn my eyes quickly towards the hill 
 before mentioned. I saw the crowd thickeiiing 
 ici the centre, while the groups, which before were 
 scattered at a distance over the landscape, now 
 hurried rapidly towards the main throng. The 
 dull indistinct sound. Which I at first heard, soon- 
 broke out into shrieks and yells, and I beheld 
 female figures flying in terror towards the high- 
 way leading to the city. The condensed mul- 
 titude seemed to be borne backward and forward 
 in an agitated and tumultuous manner, while 
 sticks were brandished and stones thickened 
 in the air. At the same time, as if the 
 discord on earth had communicated itself 
 to the heavens, the face of the sky was over- 
 spread, and a deluge of rain was poured upon 
 tiie combatants, which continued without inter- 
 mission throughout the evening. 
 
 While 1 hastened to the shelter of a close 
 
116 Tracy's ambition, 
 
 thorn, (the only one that was left imoGCupied 
 near me,) my attention was caught by a lady 
 and gentleman on horseback, who were gal- 
 lopping away from the scene of action, and 
 followed by a servant in plain livery. On a 
 sudden, I perceived the lady stretching away 
 from her companion, who presently pulled up 
 his horse, as if fearful of alarming the flying 
 animal by the appearance of pursuit. I saw 
 the latter take a path which passed close 
 by the spot on which I stood. In a little 
 time 1 perceived, by the expanded nostrils, 
 staring eyes, and levelled ears of the animal, 
 that, although the fair rider kept her seat 
 with great firmness, still the excursion was 
 not undertaken at her own suggestion. The 
 extreme rapidity of its motion, however, seemed 
 to produce that effect on her mind, which fear, 
 alone, could not accomplish. A short, faint 
 scream, which pierced my very heart with pity, 
 broke from the poor young lady; her head. 
 
TRACY^S AMBITION. 117 
 
 which until then had been bent forward in 
 an attitude of steady resolution, now hung help- 
 lessly back, her small round hat was carried 
 away, and a mass of bright tresses streamed 
 upon the wind. Onward still the animal 
 pressed, making the condition of the rider still 
 more perilous. Her frame grew momently more 
 feeblcj and swung from side to side,' while the reins 
 slackened in her grasp, and she seemed, at every 
 fresh bound of the steed, in the imminent danger 
 of reeling from the saddle. 
 
 The manner in which I was enabled to 
 arrest the progress of the steed, to restore 
 the dear equestrian to her feet, and in fine, 
 to leaveher in perfect security, it is not needful 
 to detail. Let it be sufficient to relate, that 
 this adventure led to an acquaintance with the 
 lovely fugitive, and this acquaintance ended 
 in the elopement above alluded to. Fearful 
 that we could not obtain the consent of her 
 brother, who was her only living relative, and 
 
118 TRACY^S AMBITION. 
 
 on whom she was entirely dependent, we 
 formed the unwise resolution of first placing 
 it beyond his power to oppose our wishes, 
 if they happened to jar against his own. This 
 wasj indeed, a thoughtless act of mine, con- 
 sidering that they were orphans, had lived 
 together from their childhood, and ever, until 
 then, had kept a single counsel. It was doubly 
 criminal and inconsiderate, as her brother 
 had been very kind to her, and though his 
 fortune was not brilliant, afforded her even 
 more of elegant accomplishment than, was 
 usual in her rank. 
 
 We had found an accommodating clergyman, 
 and the ceremony was nearly concluded, when 
 the young gentleman, whose pursuit we were 
 prepared to expect, (though we scarcely ima- 
 gined it could be so rapid) was added to 
 our wedding party. To our great astonishment 
 there were no marks of displeasure on his 
 countenance, and he remained, with much 
 
Tracy's ambition. 119 
 
 equanimity of manner to witness the completion 
 of the ceremony. I saw that he avoided 
 looking towards his sister, who seemed on the 
 point of sinking to the earth, and that his lip 
 trembled for a moment when he heard her 
 speak the last necessary words of assent. The 
 instant the clergyman had ceased to speak, and 
 while the few who were in the room awaited, 
 with embarrassed silence, the first movement 
 of one so deeply interested, he walked up 
 to the bride, took her hand, kissed her, and 
 looking in her face for a few seconds, with 
 a smile, in which the bitterness of reproach 
 was tempered by the deepest pity and affection, 
 he said : 
 
 '* Since it is beyond recal, I will be one 
 of those to congratulate you. You have found 
 a way, at length, to rid yourself of a disa- 
 greeable restraint. Why did you not tell me 
 of this, Mary? What had I ever done to 
 make you distrust my affectioB for you ? If 
 
120 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 you think I could have been selfish enough 
 to prefer my own satisfaction to your happi- 
 ness, you mistake my character altogether, and 
 you ought to have known it, Mary, before now. 
 I hoped you would, at least, have allowed me 
 to act the part of a brother to you, when this 
 occasion should arrive. But you have rejected me 
 from your confidence, and I will never seek to 
 acquire it again. Good bye V^ Here he pressed 
 her hand, closed his lips hard, and looked long 
 into her eyes. *' I aril sorry you should have 
 thought this necessary." 
 
 He then shook her hand again, and letting 
 it fall, as suddenly as if his touch had paralyzed 
 its energies, turned round, and left the house 
 with a step and look of forced ease and in- 
 difference. 
 
 To me he said not a word, nor cast a 
 single glance either of indignation or forgive- 
 ness. I expected rage and reproaches, and for 
 those I was prepared, but this perfect and 
 
Tracy's ambition. 121 
 
 unimpassioned contempt (if indeed so positive 
 a feeling at all entered into his thoughts), this 
 total forgetfulness of my very presence, had 
 something in it so annoying, that the recollection 
 of that moment, whenever it occured at any 
 subsequent period of my life, made the blood 
 tingle in my very ears and fingers. 
 
 In a short time after, Ulick Regan (the 
 brother) left the country, without making any 
 one acquainted with the place of his destina- 
 tion. Previous to his departure, he invested the 
 sum which he originally intended for her dowry 
 in the hands of a common friend ; with whom 
 it still remained, for the benefit of her eldest 
 daughter. 
 
 The calm generosity and forbearance, with 
 which he had treated her, made an impression 
 on the young mind of Mary Tracy which 
 never after was removed. Even during the first 
 months of our married life, although every day 
 convinced me more and more of the depth and 
 
 VOL. IT. G 
 
122 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 sincerity of her affection, 1 had frequently the 
 mortification to detect the traces of weeping in 
 her eyes, and to observe, by her repeated and 
 involuntary fits of abstraction, that her thoughts 
 were still occupied with the remembrance of 
 her ingratitude. [ believe the first time I heard 
 her volunteer the mention of his name, after our 
 marriage, was on the birth of our second child, 
 when, after gazing on it with great fondness for 
 some moments, she asked me, in a low voice, 
 *' If it was not like Ulick, in the eyes?" To 
 which I replied, as if struck on a sudden with 
 the force of the remark, that it was an exact fac- 
 simile ; although, to say a truth, excepting the 
 general resemblance which the great human fa- 
 mily bear one to another, there was not much to 
 be said on the similitude. ^ ^ 
 
 With the exception of this little melancholy 
 
 Oil Mary's part, we passed^ our time with sufii- 
 cient comfort at Cushlanebeg, the name of my 
 little residence I kept a couple of stout ridipg 
 
TRACY*S AMBITION. J23. 
 
 horses, an outside jaunting car, to give the ladies 
 an airing on Sundays, and a small turf boat, 
 which was moored in a creek of the neighbouring 
 river, and by means of which I maintained a 
 little export trade with the capital of the county 
 in corn, pork, freeholders, and other commodi- 
 ties which I raised on my farm. 
 
 I endeavoured, with all the good- will in my 
 power, to sustain the character for hospitality 
 which had been transmitted to me by my father. 
 I did so, nevertheless, with a laudable share of 
 prudence. It was my principle never to give 
 entertainments, and seldom to be wholly without 
 society. I seldom gave ^'parties," for I thought 
 it no part of the virtue of hospitality to summon 
 a number of quiet families from their comfortable 
 fire-sides to my own, to keep them tossing their 
 heels into the air to the sound of a small current 
 of wind forced through a number of curiously 
 varied apertures, or plying them with a frightful 
 excess of stimulant at an hour when nature 
 
 G 2 
 
124 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 yearned for the sedatives of slumber and quies- 
 cence, leaving them, moreover, to answer for many 
 a nien-she-sthig ^ that was given, in the interim, 
 to the weary wayfarer who might call at their 
 houses. Let every man make his house merry, 
 while he holds it, was my sentiment. A cheer- 
 ful gentleman, whose chimnies may be discern- 
 ed from the king's highway, will never be in 
 want of society, though he should never stir 
 abroad to look for it. This is a fact which I 
 have learned from experience. 
 
 Such was my coarse of life up to the period 
 when that horrid passion, the ravages of which 
 so swiftly overthrew my peace, and tore up all my 
 earthly hopes, first shed its darkening soil upon 
 a heart that, until then, was light and compara- 
 tively guiltless. The monotony of the events, 
 which filled up my time of youth and manhood, 
 had left my nature untempted and my passions 
 unexcited. I was not prosperous enough to be- 
 
 ♦Not at home» 
 
Tracy's ambition. 125 
 
 come intoxicated, nor poor enough to grow 
 moody and dark-hearted, nor sufficiently at ease 
 in my circumstances to sit idle and invent sin. 
 I had so many objects to accomplish, from 
 year to year, that my mind was never free from 
 a certain degree of care ; but they never were 
 singly of sufficient magnitude to occasion soli- 
 citude, nor to arouse ambition. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 My daughter, Ladies, I have aheady said, was 
 beautiful ; and where Beauty is, there Love will 
 surely find his time to enter. The articles of 
 marriage were concluded on a Christmas Eve, 
 between Rowan Clancy, the son of a neighbour- 
 ing gentleman, and my blushing child ; and in- 
 deed (if the testimony of trembling hands and 
 blushes might be taken) to the delight of each 
 party. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 127 
 
 After the necessary documents had been all 
 duly signed and sealed, my friend Clancy (the 
 bridegroom's father) and I went to take a snack 
 of collared head and cider, while the young peo- 
 ple, who were not so hungry, nor so curious, 
 remained chatting together in the room which 
 we had left, 
 
 '' Well, Clancy," said I, ^^ so this great 
 croppy-gardener, this weeder-out of disaffection, 
 is come, with his hoes and rakes and nippers, 
 to make the ground clear in our neighbour- 
 hood ? " 
 
 *' You mean Daltoa?" 
 
 " 1 do." 
 
 " He will be welcome to you, at all events. 
 He is always polite and courteous to you, 
 though we, useless beings, come in for the drum- 
 sticks and knuckle-bones of his good will. I 
 never in my life saw one man get so fond of 
 another, at first sight, as he did of you the 
 other day at the inquest. It would almost 
 
128 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 appear as if he had some appohitment in his head 
 for you." 
 
 *' Pho \" said I, ^* what appointment do you 
 talk of? Except he made me a process-server or 
 a clerk of petty sessions, what could he do for 
 
 me 
 
 9>j 
 
 '' Don't you know that he has great influence 
 at the Castle ? How would you like the post of 
 vice-regal secretary ? — or a chief magistracy ? — or 
 a coronership ? — or even a simple commission of 
 the peace ? This is a fine money-making, liti- 
 gious, head-breaking, house-breaking country." 
 
 '* Poh !" I exclaimed, " I never had, nor 
 ever desire to have, any ambitious projects. I have 
 an affectionate wife, [I heard Mary just turning 
 the handle of the door as she entered] a duti- 
 ful and sensible, yet lively, daughter. I am con- 
 tented with my condition, and I think if I were 
 tempted by any offer that could bring increase of 
 care with increase of honour, 1 would have no 
 
Tracy's ambition, 329 
 
 hesitation in declin Well, Willy, what's the 
 
 matter?" 
 
 The interruption was occasioned by the sud- 
 den entrance of my second boy, who dashed into 
 the room with shoes covered by a composition of 
 «iiow and puddle, eyes staring and eager, and 
 cheeks flushed with exercise, his dark cord jacket 
 and trowsers whitened in sundry places with the 
 fragments of well aimed snowballs, and his shirt- 
 frill lying wrinkled, moist, and plaitless, about his 
 neck. He pulled off his little leathern cap (which 
 was shockingly abused, considering the time he 
 had it), and said very loudly : 
 
 '^ Two men, papa, are waiting to spake to 
 you.- 
 
 ^' Sjmke^ Willy !" cried his mother, '^ 1 often 
 told you speak was the word." 
 
 ** Weeting to speak to you, sir," the boy 
 repeated. 
 
 ** You have a shocking brogue, child," said 
 Jiis mother. 
 
 G 5 
 
130 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 Without tarrying to chide him for the unne- 
 cessary length to which he carried the improve- 
 ment, I went to give audience to the strangers in 
 the kitchen. 
 
 One of these fellows was a city bailiff, who 
 brought me a summons to attend as petit juror 
 at the next assizes. 
 
 '^ Poh," said I, ^* you must not give it me." 
 
 '' Oh, fait, sir, — " 
 
 '^ 1 can't go. There, throw it into the tire, 
 and here's a sixpence. You shall have a glass of 
 spirits, if you please. Now mind, you lost my 
 summons ; that's an honest fellow." 
 
 *' Long life to your honour." 
 
 And the summons was burned accordingly. 
 
 The other man, a little ferret in the pay of 
 Dalton, brought me a letter from that gentle- 
 man, which I had been expecting for some days, 
 which I received with no little anxiety. Not- 
 withstanding the tone of indifference which I 
 assumed to Clancy, I had, in point of fact. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 131 
 
 become more closely connected with Daiton, 
 during the previous month, than I cared to let 
 him understand. A magistrate himself, and 
 toiling hard for preferment, he had expressed 
 a wish for my co-opeiation, and opened to my 
 view prospects of personal advantage which 1 
 found it difficult to regard with that indifference 
 of which I boasted. The influence which a 
 little exertion, such as he recommended, would 
 procure me among the people of the neighbour- 
 hood ; the emolumentSj trifling indeed in appear- 
 ance, but yet capable of being improved into a 
 return worthy of consideration ; the rank to which 
 it would lift me among the gentry of the coun- 
 try ; the post which perhaps it would become 
 my right to occupy among the representatives 
 of ancient families, at sessions and assizes \ no 
 insolent bailiff nor Peeler to slap the court-house 
 doors in my face \ no impertinent crier to pick 
 me out of a crowd with his long white wand, 
 and bid me ^' Lave that, an' make room 'fo.* 
 
132 tracy's ambition. 
 
 the gentlemen o' the Bar — " I tigured to my- 
 self all these flattering circumstances, while 1 
 pased up and down our flagged hall, with the 
 letter still unopened in my hand, under such an 
 agitation of spirits as I had seldom before ex- 
 perienced. Those who have been accustomed 
 to read of the influence of ambition on those cha- 
 racters only who have fixed their desires on some 
 object so dignified and important, as to com- 
 nand an instant and general sympathy, may 
 perhaps smile at my petty aspirings, and refuse 
 to admit the sufficiency of my motives; but, the 
 lesson, in all instances, is the same, and the im- 
 pulse equally violent and tempestuous. Ambition 
 is said to be the passion of advanced years. I found 
 it so. But when it does awake, it acts upon the soul 
 like the waters of the fabled fountain of Bimini, 
 rekindling faded energies and aspirations, and 
 renewing the old man's youth like the eagle's. 
 
 Suddenly I heard a stir in the inner room, 
 and Clancy presently opened the door, in order 
 
Tracy's ambition. l35 
 
 to depart. I started, as if I had been con- 
 scious of some guilty act, and hastily concealed 
 the letter, while I advanced to do him the 
 parting honours. Rowan, too, departed for a 
 distant part of the country on some business ; 
 after it had been settled that the marriage 
 should take place early in the ensuing month, 
 about which time his return was expected. 
 But fortune laughed in secret at our arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 The letter contained matter of a more 
 startling nature than 1 had anticipated. It ran 
 as follows : — 
 
 " If you regard either my interest, or your 
 own, come hither instantly. My wretched son, 
 after a week's absence, is just returned to ruin 
 me for ever. Come — come at once ; and take — 
 for your reward, a father's gratitude and all 
 a friend's endeavours for your benefit." 
 
 I ordered a horse, upon the instant, and 
 gallopped in the direction of Dalton's house. * 
 
C H A P T E R 111. 
 
 A PARTY of police were exercising on the 
 lawn before the hall-door. I passed them by, 
 and, entering hastily, found Dalton in his 
 drawing-room, seated at a table, leaning on 
 his elbows, and with his temples resting on his 
 clenched hands. In a chair, at a little distance, 
 sat his son, a youth about eighteen years of 
 age, of excelling beauty, and fashionably dressed, 
 without the slightest appearance of foppery. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 135 
 
 Soon after I entered, he left the room, a po- 
 liteness which afforded a considerable relief 
 to his father and myself. 
 
 *^ Is he gone ?" Dalton asked, raising his 
 head and gazing round, in anger. Oh, Tracy, 
 he will send me to my grave !" 
 
 '' How is this, Dalton ?" 
 
 *' A week he has been away, and now he 
 comes to tell me he has gone in debt five 
 hundred pounds, which must be paid before 
 to-morrow, or my poor boy's character is lost 
 amongst his respectable acquaintances. He 
 is my joy and my ruin, my delight and my 
 despair. I had rather think of perishing, 
 than let him want the money, for I know his 
 principles of honour to be so quick and fine 
 that it would be consigning him to misery., 
 And yet where should I get it before night?" 
 
 He paused, but I was silent. 
 
 '^ Tracy, could you assist me '? " 
 
 '' With what?" said I. 
 
136 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 " Lend me this sum." 
 
 '* Five hundred pounds ! " I cried aloud, 
 in consternation. 
 
 *' Aye, for one day ! " 
 
 *' If but for an hour — " said I — 
 
 *^ What interest you will." 
 
 *' How could you think," said I, ^* that it 
 
 was possible 1 could have so much " I 
 
 paused, for at that instant I recollected that 
 I had got six hundred pounds, (my daughter's 
 
 wedding portion) into my possession the pre- 
 ceding day. My hesitation did not escape the 
 piercing eye of Dalton. 
 
 '* If you can serve me, Tracy," he said, 
 '* do not refuse to reach out your hand. I am 
 certain of receiving double the sum within a 
 week, and you will bind me to your service 
 for ever." 
 
 ''Is it not strange," said 1, " that so good 
 and talented a young man as Mr. Henry Dalton 
 would place you in so arduous a difficulty?" 
 
Tracy's ambition. 137 
 
 '* This is a trifle," said Dalton, in great dis- 
 tress, '^ to what he has done before. He will 
 destroy me utterly. He gambles, races, lights, 
 and sports away all that I gain by toil, and 
 peril to my life." 
 
 " I would not listen to his requests." 
 
 " Requests ! He make me a request for 
 money ! Nor would I neither, if he did. 
 But that is never done. He is far too sensitive 
 to ask for it. But when I see him sitting 
 silent there, with the longing in his heart, even 
 while he strives to appear cheerful and indifferent 
 to his necessities, I cannot bear to leave him in 
 restraint." 
 
 <^ Necessities ! " 
 
 " To him they are become so. Ah, Tracy, 
 youth at best is but a fleeting season, and it 
 is cruelty in age to abridge it of those manly 
 sports which are its pride and pleasure. I see 
 my early days reflected through my boy, and I 
 cannot endure the idea of restricting him in 
 
138 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 his amusements, any more than I could, at his 
 age, have endured restraint myself." 
 
 '^ But that his own filial affection should not 
 suggest " 
 
 " It would, it would, if he were only aware 
 of the ruin he is bringing on me, but that he 
 knows not, nor must ever know. A great part 
 of my pain on those occasions is in concealing 
 from him the inconvenience he occasions." 
 
 " You astonish me !" I exclaimed. ^^And if 
 your gold flow^s thus away from you, where do 
 you think of getting riches?" 
 
 '^ The world is full of them," said Dalton, 
 " but where could I find such another son ?" 
 
 A pause now ensued, during which I felt not 
 a little perplexity. I felt sincerely for the father's 
 anguish, peculiar as I considered the cause to be, 
 and yet I could not tell in what way I might 
 assist him. But wherefore need I dwell upon 
 the means he used to prevail with me ? Enough 
 > is said when I mention that he did prevail ; and 
 
TRACYS AMBITION. 139 
 
 that I placed my daughter's wedding portion in 
 his hands, under the fuil conviction that it would 
 be refunded before the ensuing month, and with 
 his note of hand to that effect. 
 
 As I descended the stairs, young Dalton 
 opened the parlour door, and enquired, with great 
 appearance of interest, after the health of my 
 family, and in particular, but with some appear- 
 ance of hesitation, after Ellen. I answered all his 
 questions without making any allusion to the in- 
 tended marriage, for it had been agreed on both 
 sides to keep the circumstance private until it 
 approached the eve of celebration. 
 
 I then remounted, and rode home. The 
 house appeared more than usually lonely on that 
 evening. The sky was clear, sunny, and breath- 
 less, and the wide prospect around our door was 
 wrapt in a bright winter calm. The reigning si- 
 lence was so profound, that I heard the trampling 
 of the horses on the hard and echoing high-road 
 at the distance of several miles ; while the voices 
 
140 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 of those within doors sounded through the open 
 house like the waking noises which a sick man 
 hears through the dulness of his morning lethargy. 
 The snow still remained in the garden ridges and 
 along the hedges, and a few light fragments of 
 mist, that hung suspended and motionless in mid 
 air, seemed to have caught the reflection of the 
 general whiteness from the earth. I entered 
 our parlour slowly, and taking a chair before the 
 fire, began to contemplate the burning turf sods, 
 with that air of grave deliberation so exquisitely 
 painted by Cowper, while Ellen retired to .her 
 chamber to indulge her feelings of loneliness 
 in solitude, and Mary sung to the piano. 
 
 Towards night, the sky began to blacken, 
 a sullen raw wind drove through the naked trees 
 that intermingled their aged boughs over our 
 thatch, and thick showers of snow were soon 
 after drifted along the soil. The dreariness of the 
 evening was favourable to the moody and feverish 
 influences that were every moment gaining 
 
Tracy's ambition. 141 
 
 ground within my heart. I felt- no desire to 
 mingle in the conversation of my family, and 
 looked on, in musing and troubled silence, 
 while (in compliance with an ancient custom), 
 they lighted a large candle which was suffered 
 to burn in a corner of the room throughout 
 the night. They sat down to tea, apparently 
 a little perplexed at my continued silence ; 
 and while I joined them in observing the 
 abstinences of the vigil (more strictly than I 
 had done at noon), by forbearing to qualify 
 the acerbity of the narcotic with a spoonful of 
 cream, or to increase the pinguifying influence 
 of the bread by the addition of butter, our 
 meal resembled, by its silence at least, the 
 meditalive and mortified after sunset repast of 
 the primitive Christians. 
 
 On a sudden we were all startled by the 
 report of fire arms at an alarming proximity, 
 and by the sound of several voices, speaking 
 aloud in those squeaking gibbering tones by 
 
142 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 which the msurgents of those times were accus- 
 tomed to disguise their real toues. I sprung from 
 my chair, with a feeling of fiery eagerness, 
 and zeal for action, which I had never before 
 experienced. My wife and daughter looked 
 pale, panting and terrified, uncertain whether 
 to prevent my intention of going out, or suffer 
 me to choose my part in silence. While I 
 snatched my carbine from a corner, little Willy, 
 catching up his cap, was about to run to the 
 hall door before me, when his mother com- 
 manded him to remain in the room. Ulick, our 
 eldest and our spoilt, let fall his book, and stared 
 on us in silence. 
 
 I hurried out on the lawn, after throwing 
 the ramrod into the barrel to *>scertain that 
 it was loaded. The snow had ceased to fall, 
 and the general whiteness of the fields aided 
 the effect of the misty and imperfect moonlight 
 so effectually, that a brightness almost as distinct 
 as that of twilight reigned over the country. 
 
TRACY S AMBITION. 145 
 
 I heard a voice, which 1 recognized as that of 
 Dalton's, at the farther extremity of an extensive 
 sheepwalk, calling to his men aloud, in a tone 
 of anger and impatience. At the same instant 
 three or four fellows, dressed in women's clothes, 
 and with their faces blackened, gallopped 
 swiftly across the lawn on rough working 
 horses, returning a wild hurra ! to the scattered 
 volley which was discharged after them. I 
 ran towards the spot from which Dalton's voice 
 proceeded, and was in the centre of the large 
 plain before alluded to, when I saw another 
 '^ hand maid " of Lady Rock, gallopping in 
 the direction which his comrades had already 
 taken, and flinging the snow backwards on 
 his track as he sped rapidly along. On a 
 sudden, he espied me, and turning the horse's 
 head, while he pointed forward with the 
 blade of a scythe, in the manner of one leading 
 a charge, he gallopped straight towards me. 
 Not entertaining a doubt of his intention^ yet 
 
144 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 feeling a perfect confidence in my weapon, I 
 lowered myself on one knee, and covering him 
 with entire steadiness and composure, witheld 
 my fire until he came completely within shot. 
 As the trampling of the animal sounded nearer, 
 a slight anxiety made my heart thrill but it 
 did not disturb my aim. A few bounds more 
 would have brought him upon me — I fired, 
 and the next instant beheld him dashing through 
 the cloud of smoke, with revenge and triumph 
 in his look and gesture. He raised the scythe, 
 against which 1 could only uplift my faithless 
 empty carbine, but at that instant his horse, 
 terrified by the struggle, reared and wheeled 
 directly round, so that he spent his rage and 
 strength in a back-handed stroke, which took 
 me with the point of the rough weapon over the 
 brow, and made a hideous and painful rent to the 
 cheekbone. He did not attempt to renew the 
 blow, for the Police were now within a few yards 
 of the spot on which he stood. He gal- 
 
Tracy's ambition. 145 
 
 lopped forward while they severally lifted their 
 pieces to bring him down. Stung by the pain of 
 my wound and burning for revenge, I remained 
 kneeling erect, supporting myself on one side, 
 and gazing intently, to watch the issue, on my 
 flying foe. A first shot missed, a second — I bit 
 my tongue in an agony of rage ; a third, and 
 I saw the horse plunge forward, and redouble 
 its speed, but the rider lay upon the plain. 
 A thrill of wicked delight shot through my frame, 
 and I sunk down on the snow with all the satiety of 
 joy that gratified vengeance can bestow on an ill 
 regulated mind. 
 
 The pain of my wound, slight though it 
 was in reality, enfeebled me so much, that I 
 could with difficulty acknowledge the civilities 
 of Dalton, while he assisted me to rise, and 
 ordered two of the Police to convey me towards 
 the house. When we came near our dwelling 
 he stopped, and with a thoughtful delicacy, for 
 which I felt sincerely grateful to him, suggested 
 
 VOL. II. H 
 
J46 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 that it would be prudent to go to a tenant's house 
 and there dress the cut in some manner, so as 
 to enable me to go home alone, and thus prevent 
 the shock which my family might receive from see- 
 ing me brought to them in this helpless condition. 
 
 '^ Abel Thracy shot ! " exclaimed the poor 
 woman at whose door we knocked for admission. 
 ^^ Oh, millia gloria ! an' the Peelers and all ! 
 Nora, a chree, run an' light the rish." 
 
 *' And get a cup of cold water," said 
 Dalton. " Where's your husband ? " he added 
 
 after we had entered. 
 
 '^ E' where would he be but in bed, sir, this 
 
 time o' night?" 
 
 '^ Bring me his shoes." 
 
 They brought a pair of heavy brogues covered 
 with mud. 
 
 '^ How came these brogues so dirt)?" 
 asked Dalton, in a stern tone. 
 
 ^^ E'then, because he was workin' in the 
 garden 'till sunset." 
 
Tracy's ambition. 147 
 
 '* Hag that you are, and croppy that he is, 
 I'll hang hhn for these brogues. He was one 
 of the ruffians on the field." 
 
 ^' Faix, an' troth, and as I hope for glory 
 sir 
 
 '^ Hold your peace ! Search the house," he 
 said to his police. 
 
 They obeyed, while the woman assisted 
 in dressing the wound. But they soon re- 
 turned to say that their search was ineffectual. 
 
 As I lay back in my chair, while the woman 
 
 went in the next room for some bandage, I 
 perceived an action of Dal ton's which perplexed 
 me considerably. Imagining himself to be 
 unobserved, and covered by the partial gloom 
 thrown around him by my own shadow, I saw 
 him take some large substance from his breast^ 
 and place two paper parcels along with it. 
 He thrust them all, far in, under the low thatch, 
 after which, hearing the woman's footstep 
 returning along the earthen floor, he came 
 
 H 2 
 
148 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 forward into the light, and superintended 
 the washing and dressing of my cut with an 
 officious care. 
 
 When this act of mercy was performed, and 
 we prepared to depart, Oalton suddenly turned 
 to the woman and said : 
 
 " Yesterday, upon the race course of N 
 
 your husband was one of a large mob, that crossed 
 my son's horse and prevented him from winning 
 a 1^'ge stake. Your husband was heard to say, 
 that while he was able to lift a cudgel no Orange 
 horse should win upon that course." 
 
 " He never said it, not belyin' you, sir." 
 
 " I have it from those that heard, and saw 
 him too. He said they'd keep the course 
 Catholic, at any rate, if they lost every thing 
 else ; and that no Orange horse should ever carry a 
 sweepstakes in that county." 
 
 '* Not belying your honour, he never said it," 
 repeated the woman. 
 
tracy's ambition. 14D 
 
 ** I never had sech a word in my mouth," said 
 the man himself, speaking from the inner room. 
 
 " And a week before that, when my son 
 fought that duel with Mr, O'SuUivan, your 
 husband was with the mob on the ground. 
 They gathered about my son, as soon as they 
 saw that O'SulUvan was wounded," he added, 
 turning to me, ^* they dragged him from his 
 horse, and, but for his own resohition, he would 
 never have left the ground alive, for daring to 
 shoot a Catholic, though in his own defence. 
 And this fellow here was the ringleader of 
 that gang." 
 
 " Them that told you that," cried Shanahan 
 (the owner of the house), springing out of 
 bejd, and appearing suddenly amongst us in 
 his camiciOy them that told you that, sir, told 
 you what was not the fact. It was I that 
 saved your son, it was I that thrun myself 
 a-top of him when the blows were comin' 
 down like hail, and Boys', says T, roarin, 'don^ 
 
150 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 ye murther masther Harry, for he's a gentle- 
 man, an a good man', says I, 'whatever — " 
 
 He paused on the sudden. 
 
 " Whatever his father is," added Dalton, 
 '* was not that the word ?" 
 
 '' It was ! I'll not gainsay you," cried the 
 man with vehemence. 
 
 '* Very well," said Dalton, '^ you have 
 begun, and have flung down the challenge, 
 let it now be seen who is to be the victor." 
 
 At this moment, a faint shriek outside 
 made the speakers start upon the sudden. It 
 was repeated nearer, and Shanahan sprung 
 to the door. i^ 
 
 ''It is my mother's voice!" he exclaimed. 
 Flinging back the bolt, and throwing the door 
 wide, he gave admittance to an aged woman. 
 She hurried in, striking her bosom with her 
 clenched hands, her nerveless frame shaking 
 with years and terror, and a short shrill cry of 
 anguish breaking at intervals from her thin and 
 
TRACY^S AMBITION. 151 
 
 bloodless lips. Looking round for her son, 
 she cast herself upon his arm, muttering short 
 prayers, intermingled with bursts of feeble 
 grief, and shrieks that seemed to come from 
 half exhausted lungs. 
 
 '^ What is thematther, mother V* exclaimed 
 Shanahan, '' what brings you from your house 
 at such a time o' night V* 
 
 She stared ghastlily on him, and pointed out 
 into the dark with one shrivelled hand and 
 arm. 
 
 *' What have you seen ? What's there t 
 Speak, mother !" 
 
 She did not answer him, but moaned and 
 shivered, and continued pointing out into the 
 dark. 
 
 '* Hold up the light. This poor woman, sir,*" 
 he added, to me, is nearly ninety years of age, 
 an' the senses is lavin' her poor thing. Where's 
 Phaudrig, mother ?" 
 
 She shrieked more loudly than before, and 
 
152 Tracy's ambition* 
 
 repeated the action above described. The man 
 looked now exceedingly alarmed. 
 
 " She means something !" he said. '' She 
 does'nt screech that way for nothing. Stop, 
 isn't that the sound of a step ? Who's 
 there?" 
 
 Snatching the light from the little girl Nora, 
 he raised it high above his head, so as to shed 
 its beams upon a group who were entering 
 at that moment. It consisted of some of 
 the Police who had remained upon the field, 
 and who now bore between them the body 
 of the man who had been shot. The aged 
 mother sprung from the arms of her son, and 
 pointed to the corpse, when they had 
 laid it on the ground, with both her bony hands 
 extended and her face turned back with an ap- 
 pealing look to her son. She then pointed to 
 Dalton, to me, and to the Police, and sunk 
 down upon the body. 
 
 '' It is my brother !" said Shanahan, 
 
Tracy's ambition. 16S 
 
 "Here, take the candle, Nora, and don't be 
 lookin' at me !" 
 
 The girl took the light, and he let his 
 head sink upon his breast, while a wild cry of 
 funereal grief broke from the females of the 
 house. 
 
 *' Shanahan," said I, " 1 am sorry to 
 see any friend of your's implicated in such a 
 hopeless business as that on which those people 
 were engaged to-night. What had I ever done 
 to your brother that he should lift his weapon 
 against my life V 
 
 And, so saying, I pointed to my wound. 
 
 ** Mr. Tracy," the man exclaimed, lifting 
 his head and regarding me with a sternness of 
 expression that had something terrific in it, ^^1 
 have a word to say to you. You see that corpse 
 that is lying there, warm with the life, I give 
 no blame to that tyger for his death [poinlini;, 
 to Dalton], for what could be expected from 
 SiU open enemy but blows and blood I BmI 
 
 H 5 
 
154 TRACY S AMBITION. 
 
 you, that were our neighbour, and that had nothing 
 to gain by our blood, nor to lose by our comfort ; you 
 that we never injured, you that we often served, 
 you had no reason to turn upon us this way. — 
 There's my brother's blood upon my floor, 
 an^ you shed it without reason. Now by this 
 cross I swear," and he crossed the fore-fingers of 
 each hand, while he knitted his brows in 
 fury and stared upon me, ^^ I swear this 
 year won't pass 'till I have revenge of you 
 for this night's work. You dhrew his blood 
 without being any way provoked, take care how 
 soon and suddenly you may yourself be called 
 before the same Coort ! And you," he added, 
 turning his brawny person round upon Dalton, 
 and uplifting his clenched hand in the energy 
 of desperate menace, *' You say right, that the 
 battle is begun. Now I tell you this, and 
 hear me ! I never yet was one of those that 
 broke the peace and brought your life in danger, 
 I saved the life of your son, but that indeed 
 
Tracy's ambition. }5d 
 
 was for his own sake an' not yours. 1 had a 
 sister here, an' she was fool enough to be seen 
 talkin' to you be ye'r two selves, an' 'tis unknown 
 now where she's gone ; but well ^ou know it, 
 as I fear, an' sure I am that if the truth was 
 known, it would bring shame upon her and us 
 and you. Now hear what I tell you ! By this blood 
 that's on my hand this night, he stooped and 
 dabbled his fingers in the reeking neck and 
 shoulder of the corpse, *' by this warm blood 
 I swear, I never will rest in pace until I have 
 you brought as low as we are here this nighty 
 and there's something tells me that will not 
 be long." 
 
 " You are all witnesses of that threat," said 
 Dalton, turning to his men, 
 
 " They are," cried Shanahan, ** and they 
 will be witnesses of more than that if they live 
 six months. Howld !" he exclaimed bending 
 his fierce brows upon his wife who \\a^ 
 clapping her hands and bawling aloud in alJ 
 
lo6 TRACY'S AMBITION. 
 
 the distraction of vulgar grief; ''don*t shame 
 yourself an' us before 'em, by showin' 'em 
 that we can be cowed down by any thing their 
 spite can do. We defy them all, aye, Dalton, 
 I defy you, though you look so sure o* me, 
 an' you will find me a fox to catch for all ! I 
 don't threaten you, but look at that ! — " 
 
 He expanded his bloody hand, and bent 
 forward, staring on the unmoved figure of Dalton, 
 while the corpse lay stark between. The mother 
 gathered low, and gibbering upon her heels, the 
 wife still venting her agony in broken moans, the 
 remainder of the family pressing round with 
 faces of grief or terror, and the police on the 
 other side leaning on their carbines and regard- 
 ing the half naked desperado with stern looks — 
 to me the picture had an appalling effect, 
 but it was not so with Dalton ; he returned 
 the menace with a hard and eager smile, and 
 then departed without speaking. 
 
 Tracy!" the man called after me a» I 
 
Tracy's ambition. 157 
 
 prepared to follow, ^^ remember what I say 
 to you this night, and look to yourself. If I 
 am to start up through the floore, or come 
 in through the stone wall to you, I will be 
 with you when you're laste thinkin' o' me 
 an' my revenge. I have sworn by the holy 
 cross. And I swear it now again, to have 
 revenge for that poor fellow's blood." 
 
 '^ You are very conscientious," said the voice 
 of Dalton, in the dark outside, '^ for the child 
 of a parricide." 
 
 The man stared as if he had been struck by 
 a galvanic shock, and then seizing a pitch-fork, 
 was darting out at the door-way, when his 
 wife sprung up, and, with a wild cry of entreaty, 
 flung both her arms around his neck. 
 
 *' Hurry out! Hurry out !" she exclaimed, 
 waving her hand rapidly to me. '* Oh, Morty, 
 oh, machree, m' asthore !" 
 
 I followed her advice, closing the door 
 rapidly behind me, and leaving the man stiU 
 
158 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 struggling furiously within. The oath he had 
 taken was one which at this period an Irish 
 peasant seldom swore in vain, and I confess, 
 though not naturally of a fearful disposition, 
 my nerves were somewhat unsettled by the 
 manner in which it was pronounced. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1 HURRIED after Dalton, the threat still ringing 
 in my ear, and the scene of woe and blood still 
 present to my sight. I found him on the public 
 road which lay between the cabin of the Shana- 
 hans and my house, engaged in conversation with 
 his son, who had joined him just before. With 
 little persuasion I was able to prevail on both to 
 spend the remainder of the evening at my house. 
 While Henry Dalton amused himself with 
 
l60 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 the ladies, I took an opportunity of expressing to 
 his father my apprehension lest the brother of 
 the man we had shot should find it possible to 
 put his menaces in execution. 
 
 '' You would tremble more," said Dalton, 
 '^ if you knew the circumstances of this man's 
 story, or rather of his father's story, for he only 
 inherits the gloomy spirit which his parent's act 
 originated." 
 
 " Was it in allusion, then, to such an act that 
 you called him the son of a parricide?" 
 
 '^ You shall hear the tale. It is worth hear- 
 ing, as a proof of the deadly violence to which 
 those people are sometimes apt to be carried in 
 tlieir fits of momentary excitation. You know 
 the Coom Collee, or the Hag's Valley, near 
 Killarney ?" 
 
 '* No" said I, " I never was at Killarney." 
 
 *' Well, there is such a place in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the Lakes, a vast, gloomy, shrub- 
 less, silent, rocky region, looking the very theatre 
 
TtlACY^S AMBITION. l6l 
 
 of witchery and romance. Piles of enormous 
 mountains, with lakes embosomed among their 
 peaks and sides at various elevations, form the 
 entrance to this stupendous recess ; as you 
 advance you find yourself in the centre of an 
 extensive chasm, scooped out of the heapt-up 
 hills, with a lonely river brattling among the fallen 
 crags, and a dreary waste of stone and heath and 
 bog separating the precipitous and time splin- 
 tered Reeks of Macgillicuddy from the less 
 rugged mountains of the Gap. In the centre of 
 this waste were two cottages, or rather cabins, 
 held by two families of different names, one of 
 them O 'Sheas, from the ancient clan in the Esk 
 mountain near Glengariff, the other consisting of 
 the father and the grandfather of this Shanahan. 
 Both families supported themselves by feeding 
 sheep and goats on the sides of the neighbouring 
 mountains, and one might have supposed that 
 even with all the national blood flowing pure in 
 their veins, they might have forgotten in such a 
 
162 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 solitude, the national predilection for combat. 
 But this was not the case, for the inhabitants of 
 the two cabins constituted two opposite factions, 
 the O'Sheas taunting the Shanahans with the 
 meanness of their origin, and the latter grounding 
 an equal quantity of vituperation upon the negli- 
 gence and roguery of the O'Sheas. 
 
 ^' What fomented this disunion to the height 
 was the marriage of the younger Shanahan with 
 the eldest daughter of the other house, a circum- 
 stance which one would have supposed more 
 likely to reconcile the opposite interests of both 
 parties. Until that time, the father and son had 
 lived in perfect harmony, the latter, indeed, inter- 
 fering little in the family feud, which the former 
 sustained with the vigour of a Capulet. You may 
 suppose that the astonishment of the old man 
 was not little, when he beheld his son whom he 
 had been educating in a scrupulous detestation 
 of the rival house, appear upon his floor with his 
 Dalilah, fresh from the abode of the Philistines, 
 
Tracy's ambition. 163 
 
 linked to his side. That fair one was the aged 
 woman whose impotent grief appeared to aifect 
 you so forcibly to-night, and she came beneath his 
 roof bringing for her dowry all the ancestral 
 pride of the generations which had preceded 
 her, and all the extreme dishonesty of that in 
 which she had grown up and flourished. 
 
 *' The wings of Peace did not overshadow 
 this union. War was kindled upon the hearth of 
 the Shanahans, and the ties which had from early 
 childhood bound the afl'ections of the young man 
 to his aged parent were gradually unbound by 
 the fingers of his daughter-in-law. Instead of 
 the domestic paradise which young Shanahan, in 
 common with all husbands of whatever rank or 
 education, promised himself in his married life, 
 the scenes of altercation which continually arose 
 made it resemble one of Dante's Tartarian gyres. 
 Many vain attempts were made by the unhappy 
 husband to reconcile these dissensions, and 
 his continual disappointments began to throw 
 
164 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 a shade of gloom and menace over his owri 
 brow. 
 
 <' Things had continued in this state for 
 several months, when, on a cold November 
 evening, the keeper of a little hunting lodge, at 
 the end of the valley, was surprized by a visit 
 from the old man. He appeared uneasy and 
 dejected, and told without reserve, when questi- 
 oned, the occasion of his anxiety. * For the la«t 
 three or four days', he said, ' I have seen my son 
 and his wife whispering together in secret, and my 
 mind misgives me that they are plotting some- 
 thing against my life. May heaven forgive 
 them if they injure me, but I'm sure I never 
 did any thing to deserve their hatred.' The 
 keeper, perceiving his uneasiness, pressed him to 
 remain that night, for the better security, with him 
 and his family. But this the old man declined, 
 saying, that if any unfairness were meant, the 
 time would be found as easily on any future 
 day as at present. He departed, a gloomy 
 
TRACY^S AMBITION. l65 
 
 presentiment appearing to lurk bet^yeen his 
 brows. 
 
 *' Although the keeper imagined it probable 
 that his apprehensions were rather the result of a 
 hypochondriac habit than of any real cause for 
 dread, yet he could not himself resist the unac- 
 countable spirit of curiosity which impelled him 
 early the next morning to walk up the Hag's 
 Valley, and enquire after the old man. Arrived 
 at the cottage, the first unusual sensation which 
 he received, was an extraordinary smell which 
 seemed to proceed from the interior. Deeming 
 it possible, however, that in his excited state of 
 feeling his sense might have deceived him in this 
 particular, (you know Rousseau calls smell the 
 sense of imagination,) he disregarded this circum- 
 stance, and lifted the latch, without thinking 
 much upon the matter. Within was Shanahan's 
 wife seated at a table on which was spread their 
 breakfast of potatoes and goat's milk, while her 
 husband sat apart, his arms hanging downward 
 
I66 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 over the back of his chair and his eyes fixed 
 gloomily upon the ground. He took no notice of 
 the keeper's entrance, nor did he at all appear 
 to be aware of the nature of any thing that passed 
 around him. The most remarkable circumstance 
 (and that was a very singular one) in the ap- 
 pearance of the little kitchen was, that the 
 fire, instead of occupying as usual a modest 
 portion of the hearth, seemed to have been 
 enlarged during the night to an extraordinary 
 extent, and spread its black and ashy circle over 
 half the cabin floor. Perplexed as he w'as, how- 
 ever by this new appearance, he refrained from 
 making any observation, and contented him- 
 self with executing the purpose for which 
 he came, tHat of enqui.ing for the aged 
 
 father. 
 
 ^* * He is in Limerick, ' said the wife in a 
 
 sullen tone, ^ he is gone there w ith a few of 
 the sheep.' 
 
 " ' And when do you expect his return ?" 
 
TRACY^S AMBITION. 1^7 
 
 '' * I do'nt know. He did'iit tell me his 
 mind when he was going." 
 
 '^ ' One would think, Shanahan, to look 
 at the fire you had last night, that you were 
 dressing one of them sheep yourself. What had 
 you in that fire '^' 
 
 '* The man sprung to his feet with a sud- 
 den, wild, and uncontrollable fit of laughter, 
 and cried aloud, while he flung himself into an 
 attitude of maniac horror: 
 
 *' ' Ha, ha, ha! Vauria, do you hear? 
 Do you hear that ? What had we in the 
 fire? Ha, ha, ha ! What had we in that 
 fire?' 
 
 ''And clasping his temples between his 
 hands, he rushed out of the cottage. 
 
 " More collected than her husband, the 
 woman simply answered, that they had been 
 employed on the previous evening in dying wool 
 for frieze, and had found it necessary to 
 spread the fire considerably. Obliged to rest 
 
168 tracy's ambition. 
 
 satisfied, for the present, with this answer, the 
 keeper soon after took his leave; and departed, 
 though still in much alarm for the poor old 
 man. 
 
 '^ A week passed over, and the father did 
 not appear. The Shanahans still continuing 
 to declare their ignorance of his situation, the 
 honest keeper privately made known to a magis- 
 trate what he had observed, and search was made 
 in all directions for the father, but he was 
 never found, nor heard of, dead or living. 
 The words of the younger Shanahan now 
 occurred more frequently to the recollection of 
 the keeper, and a horrid, ghastly doubt begun 
 to associate itself with the remembrance of 
 ' that fire.' 
 
 ^^ But nothing could be proved against the 
 children, although the demeanour of the son 
 (which was all in accordance with his conduct 
 on the first morning) served to deepen the 
 suspicion of foul play which had already been 
 
TRACY*S AMBITION. 16Q 
 
 awakened. His look was haggard, gloomy 
 and timorous ; his manner hurried and passionate, 
 and (which appeared the most singular alteration 
 of the entire) he now took up and asserted with 
 the most angry pertinacity those topics of 
 feudal disunion on which his lost parent had 
 insisted without meeting any support from his 
 son. If thwarted on one of those points, his 
 eye sent out a fiie, and a fury rioted in all 
 his demeanour which soon reduced his oppo- 
 nents to silence. His wife, in particular, was 
 now compelled to hear submissively from him, 
 in open unreserved abuse, those taunts which 
 she could not endure to hear even faintly insinuated 
 by his father. He still pursued his usual 
 occupation of herding the sheep and goats 
 upon the mountain tops, and haunted the crags 
 and precipices from mom to night, avoiding 
 all who approached, and seeming to find more 
 peace among the terrors of the mountain 
 solitude, than when he sat by his domestic hearth. 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
170 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 '^ The keeper had occassion, one chill 
 December noon, to look after some of his 
 sheep which were grazing near the summit of 
 Carrawn Tual, or the Inverted Reaping Hook, 
 the very highest mountain of the stupendous 
 range called Mac Gillicuddy's Reeke. Passing 
 into the Esk Collee, a deep glen which reaches 
 half w^ay up the mountain, he beheld a figure 
 up the steep, which, from the rapidity of its 
 gestures and its hurried and irregular gait he 
 judged to be no other than the orphan Shana- 
 han. He was pleased at the opportunity of 
 meeting him thus alone, in order that he 
 might question him apart from his wife, and col- 
 late his answers with what he could recollect of 
 hers. 
 
 '^ This investigation, however, should have 
 been undei taken by a more able bodied man, 
 or in a scene less calculated for the suggestion 
 and concealment of evil. Although a cold 
 wind drove the clouds rapidly across the sum* 
 
Tracy's ambition. 171 
 
 mit of the mountain, there reigned throughout 
 /the rocky vale the stilhiess of a wintry calm. 
 Two frozen lakes lay dark and shining on 
 either side of the gigantic recess. On the 
 right, a pile of broken rock, called the Hag's 
 Teeth; spired up into the frosty air to the 
 height of some hundred feet. Crag upon crag, 
 tossed one upon the other to the very moun- 
 tain peak, overhung the lonely chasm, and 
 impressed a mighty sternness upon the character 
 of the scene. Passing through the channelled 
 glen before described, and ascending along the 
 marge of a small cascade to the height of 
 half the mountain, he found himself on a 
 narrow isthmus, connecting the ranges of the 
 Gap and Reek mountains, and separating the 
 Hag's Valley which he had left from the 
 Goom Dhuv, on the Black Valley on the 
 other side. From this point of view he be- 
 held a succession of stooping mountains, 
 lonely valleys and sequestered lakes, thrown 
 
 I 2 
 
172 ' Tracy's ambition, 
 
 together to the very extreme line of distance, 
 and suggesting fancies of an irresistible and 
 gloomy grandeur. Ascending the mountain on 
 his right — " 
 
 ''You may omit/' said I, " my dear Dalton, 
 any unnecessary descriptimi of the placed how- 
 ever graphical, for I have but a slender taste 
 for the picturesque, and I am anxious to know 
 what became of the worthy keeper." 
 
 " Something is necessary," answered Dalton, 
 " to make you understand his situation, but I will 
 be brief. Ascending to the summit of Carrawn 
 Tual you pass a third valley of a stdi 
 lonelier and far more ternjfic character than 
 either of those you have left beneath. A se- 
 micircular chasm, precipitous on all its sides 
 and yawning upward from a depth of som 
 thousand feet, suddenly breaks away from the 
 feet of the traveller and startles him with an 
 instant and oppressive sense of insecurity. 
 On iUe ormk ot this deep riven scar upon the 
 
Tracy's ambition. 173 
 
 breast of Earth, the keeper found the solitary 
 herdsman staring in stolid gloom upon the dismal 
 void beneath. Sometimes the west wind brought 
 the mists along from the distant ocean, and then 
 they filled the dreary hollow, and steamed up- 
 ward from the centre, as if it had been a 
 gigantic cauldron, investing the long and rugged 
 mountain peak in a sea of vapour. Sometimes 
 the wreaths rolled off, and the eye might 
 gather in, at various depths beneath, through 
 rents in the misty veil, the outline of a sunlit 
 crag, or a momentary gleaming on the surface 
 of the lake, which lay more than a mile di- 
 rectly underneath, its waters prisoned in by- 
 mountain barriers, and fettered in chains of ice. 
 *^ The herdsman sullenly and slightly 
 returned the greeting of his father's fiiend. 
 He seemed impatient of the keeper's at- 
 tempt to continue a conversation, and expressed 
 this impatience by the churlish shortness of 
 his manner, and the brevity of his replies. 
 
174 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 '^ ' Well Morty/ said the keeper, ' so you 
 had no account o' the ould father yet, had ye V 
 
 '* The man returned a sulky ^No.' 
 
 *' ' Its as dhroll a business as ever I hear 
 since I was born,' said the keeper. ' Do you 
 think was your father ever given to takin' a 
 dhrop at all V 
 
 " ' He never was in all his life,' replied 
 the son rapidly. His enemies could not say that 
 
 for him.' 
 
 '^ ' And who were his enemies, Morty ?' 
 
 " The man started. 
 
 '^ ' Who should they be, why?' he exclaimed 
 with great vehemence : * do you think I'd be 
 an enemy of his ? his own son ? Did you 
 ever hear of our having any disputes or 
 quarrels that you'd talk that way ? Did you 
 ever see me rise a hand to him in all my life, 
 that you'd say that V 
 
 " < Say what, ayeh, Morty?' 
 
 *^ ^ Call me my father's enemy.' 
 
Tracy's ambition. 175 
 
 - " ' Long from me be it so to call you, 
 Morty. I never did. I only axed you who 
 they were, for 1 thought it a dhroll business 
 to say a man like him that use'n't to be in 
 liquor, nor to fight, nor one whole ha'p'orth, 
 should be spirited away in that manner. 
 'Tis'nt to yourself I was at all, dear knows. 
 But tell me, will you, Morty, what is it 
 made ye put down so big a fire the night 
 before I was over with ye that time ?" 
 
 The man wrapped his hands tight acrob-s 
 his breast, and fixed upon the speaker a gaze 
 of stern and dark enquiry. The latter, feelmg 
 that he had gone too far, and shrinking from 
 the gloomy menace which he saw in the 
 other's glance, looked aside as if preparing 
 for flight. But the action should have pre- 
 ceded the indication, for it only confirmed 
 the awakened suspicions of the herdsman. He 
 rushed upon the keeper, before he had time 
 to move a single muscle in obedience to 
 
176 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 the desire of flight, and lifted him from the 
 earth with a strength, which passion, acting on 
 a frame naturally vigorous, rendered almost 
 gigantic. Extending his arms, he was about 
 drop him over the precipice before described, 
 when a shriek, (the harrowing appeal of Nature 
 in her agony of fear) broke from the throat 
 of the victim. The herdsman started back 
 aghast, and dragged him from the brink, laying 
 him down upon a tuft of heath and sea-pink 
 and using gestures of maniac tenderness 
 and deprecation, as if in the effort to soothe 
 one whom he had dangerously offended, while 
 he murmured rapidly. 'Again, Vauria ! again! 
 Bo you hear that ? 1 thought that noise was 
 over. I thought you said we worn't to hear 
 that again.' 
 
 " Then starting once more, and looking 
 back over his shoulder, he sprung to his feet 
 and ran howling down the hill, his hands out- 
 stretched as if for succour, and his eye glancing 
 
Tracy's ambition. 177 
 
 now and then in terror over either shoulder as 
 as if he were pursued by some territic 
 creature. 
 
 ^' Since that time be has not appeared 
 among his old neighbours. The miserable 
 widow, unable to endure the s^jlitude which 
 her conscience filled wuu terrors far more 
 appalling than those which the hand of 
 Nature had carved upon the scene, aban^ 
 doned the gloomy valley, and settled in this 
 neighbourhood, where, in the course of a few 
 months she became the mother of twins. 
 One of them was the insurgent who was 
 shot to-night upon the sheep-walk ; and you have 
 deep cause to shudder at the menace of that 
 ruffian Shanahan, for he is the other, and he in<- 
 herits all the dark intensity of feeling and 
 the savage lire which were so remarkable in 
 his parent. A close family affection existed 
 between him and his brother, who, being of a 
 lighter, gayer, and not less spirited character, 
 
 I 5 
 
178 trace's ambition. 
 
 was the darling of his mother, and of his brother 
 also. But you have nothing to apprehend from 
 the resentment of that ruffian, for I have him 
 on the hip beyond all power of escape al- 
 ready." 
 
 "How is that?" I asked, observing Dalton 
 pause. 
 
 "You will know," said he, "in a few 
 days." 
 
 " And what do they suppose to have been the 
 fate of this Shanahan's father, the parricide, as 
 you have called him ?" 
 
 " Self destruction was for many years the 
 general supposition, but within the last four, a 
 letter arrived at the next post town, directed to 
 Mortimer Shanahan, late of the — Regiment, 
 and franked from the War Office, on His Majes- 
 ty's Service. This circumstance, though it has 
 furnished no clue to the discovery of the missing 
 herdsman, gave rise to the supposition that he 
 had not in reality perished at the time, but taken 
 
Tracy's ambition.* 179 
 
 a musket and continued to serve his country per- 
 haps until this day. Nothing farther, however, 
 has been ascertained respecting the matter since 
 that time." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Our conversation was at this instant interrupted 
 by a gentle '^ Hush !'' from Mary, who smiled and 
 laid her linger on her lip, glancing aside at young 
 Dalton. We perceived by his position in his 
 chair, and the smiling look which he cast at the 
 ceiling, that he had been prevailed on to sing a 
 song, which he was at this moment endeavouring 
 to recal to his recollection. This was a tax 
 which Henry was obliged to pay in almost every 
 
Tracy's ambitio]S3. 181 
 
 company in which he mingled, for he possessed a 
 sweet voice, and frequently, as in the present 
 instance, used it to grace verses of his own com- 
 position. I found the song the other day among 
 my poor daughter's papers : — 
 
 A gray shifting eye, like the swift ray of light 
 
 The first May moraing shoots o'er the brow of the night, 
 
 That is veiled up in mist like that eye in its liJ, 
 
 Yet is loved for the promise of light that is hid. 
 
 Ah, trust not that eye ! for though gentle_it seems, 
 
 It is but the will that has shrouded its beams ; 
 
 It has fire, it has love, it has smiles, it has tears, 
 
 Forlhe world and its passions, its sorrows and fears. 
 
 II. 
 
 A voice, like a sound heard in. deep solitude ; 
 
 Like the song of the night-bird alone in the wood ; 
 
 A melody, struck by the finger of Art 
 
 From the small strings that tremble round Nature's own heait. 
 
 Ah, hear not that voice ! — for though softly it breathe, 
 
 Its tones round the trusting heart cunningly wreathe, 
 
 When chain'd through its pulses, and bound for a spoil, 
 
 It may throb at the cheat, but must pine in the toil. 
 
182 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 A brow that is built for the throne of the mind, 
 And curtain'd by dark ringlets gracefully twined, 
 The glance of the falcon, the gaze of the dove, 
 The smile that is blended of mirth and of love ; 
 A shape, soft and gliding, like those which arise 
 Through the shadows of Time on the young poet's eyes, 
 When the cloud of the future he toils to remove, 
 And fancy the maiden who shall be his love. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah. the days of her youth are for ever gone by, 
 Yet the spring tide of genius is young in her eye. 
 Fast over her beauties the parting years roll, 
 Still they bloom with the evergreen hue of the soul. 
 The rose leaves fall silently down from her cheek, 
 Still it hath the dear meaning Time never can break ; 
 And each act of her motion an impulse reveals 
 Of a spirit that thinks, and a bosom that feels. 
 
 Even such was my love, and, in merrier hours, 
 I filled my bright vase with Hope's loveliest flowers. 
 Young Fancy flew over my bower of peace, 
 And soar'd in the golden clouds, singing of bliss. 
 But vain was my dream ! for these hours are fled. 
 That song, it is silent, that bower is dead, . 
 The gold coloured mists of life's morning are flown, 
 My vase it is broken, my flowers are gone ! 
 
TRACV'S AMBITION. 183 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet blame me not, lady, if thus, while I dwell 
 
 On a form that my memory has treasured too well ; 
 
 An idol, my faith would make all but divine, 
 
 I should breathe out one heart-broken sigh at its shrine, 
 
 I look on thy state, and I think on mine own, 
 
 And I laugh at the hope that would bid me love on ; 
 
 Yet my reason asks " Why do I love theel" in vain, 
 
 While my heart can but echo "I love thee !" again. 
 
 In the course of the evening, the liveliness 
 and bonhommie of Dalton's conversation, his 
 free, open, unconstrained, yet gentlemanly man- 
 ner, and his intimate knowledge of the world, 
 (rather indicated, than displayed, in his general 
 demeanour) completely fastened him on my 
 esteem. He gained more rapidly on my admir- 
 ation, likewise, as I conceived his manner to be 
 a somewhat broad copy of that which distin- 
 guished the most elegant man I had ever known, 
 my offended brother-in-law ; and which almost 
 satisfied me of the truth of an observation I had 
 heard made by many men of the world, that 
 
184 tracy's ambition. 
 
 " an Irish gentleman is the first gentlemn on 
 earth." The reason, (supposing it any more 
 than a national boast) might perhaps be found 
 in that habitual frankness and gaiety which 
 gives them all the air, step, and port of elder 
 brothers ; and in the abject condition of their 
 peasantry which leaves them more of the lordly 
 feeling and consciousness of feudal authority 
 than is found in other and happier countries. 
 
 The same resemblance that struck me was 
 considered still more striking by my wife, whose 
 extreme youth at her marriage had not occasioned 
 her to forget any circumstance of her brother's 
 disposition or manner. She was the more 
 pleased with the society of Dalton on discover- 
 ing that he possessed a somewhat cultivated 
 taste, and talked without affectation, and with 
 a freedom and easy decision which showed him 
 to be a perfect master of the subject, on most 
 of her favourite authors. But his son Henry 
 fascinated us all. Handsome, gay, and tender, 
 
TEACV S AMBITION. 185 
 
 m his demeanour, he seemed an Apollo to 
 the ladies, while his politeness and docility 
 were no less agreeable to his superiors in 
 years. A vulgar observer might have called 
 him proud, for the consciousness of much 
 talent, joined with a noble figure and fine 
 accomplishments, had given him a lofty air 
 from which mean spirited persons recoiled in 
 fear and anxiety. But his w^as not pride. It 
 was not that paltry and contemptible passion 
 (if it may be elevated to the dignity of passion) 
 which manifests itself in a tone of ridiculous 
 haughtiness towards others, and which is always 
 conjoined with a private sense of inferiority 
 of one kind or another. It was a frank and 
 generous expression, the result of a cordial 
 fulness of soul, of mounting spirits, of natural 
 rectitude of feeling, and of an inspiring con- 
 sciousness of the grandeur of his own nature 
 that shone in all his language and demeanour. 
 For our greater security, as well against 
 
IBS Tracy's ambition. 
 
 the violence of Shanahan, as against tlie 
 machination of the gang to which the perished 
 youth belonged, Dalton proposed that I should 
 keep in my house a number of Police sufficient to 
 withstand any attack that might be made. I 
 might, at the same time, he said, make use 
 of these men for the purpose of patrolling 
 the country, and distinguishing myself in the 
 eyes of government ; no vain endeavour, at a 
 time when place and pension were scattered 
 with a liberal hand on all who made their 
 loyalty conspicuous. He pledged himself, at the 
 same time, to use all his influence for the pro- 
 motion of my interests, and promised, in the 
 zeal of his gratitude, that they should ever 
 supersede his own. 1 sighed, while I gave my 
 assent to his arrangement, and he asked me 
 '* wherefore?" 
 
 '' I will confess to you my weakness," an- 
 swered I. '^ I feel a peculiar reluctance to 
 take this new character upon me. I have 
 
Tracy's ambition. 187 
 
 hitherto lived a quiet and popular life amongst 
 my tenants, and like not the idea of appearing 
 before them now under a harsher and less pa- 
 rental character. Besides, my wife, my wife's 
 family, and my daughter, are all Roman Ca- 
 tholic, and I feel a dislike, which my af- 
 fections forbid my casting off, to do anything 
 that might seem to indicate a want of respect 
 for their opinions. The poor cottagers on my 
 ground look up to my gentle Mary as their 
 protector. The want of connection between 
 our church and the people who are compelled 
 to support it, has left no room for confidence 
 in the mercy of protestant masters, and I 
 have frequently overheard a poor man, while 
 I sat in the parlour, and the door has been 
 standing open, overwhelming my wife with 
 blessings, and thanking heaven for '^ sending 
 her to reign over them, when they thought 
 the*yd be lost without one to speak for 
 them to the masther." Mary, too, is fond 
 
188 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 of the influence which she has thus obtained, 
 and, mild and uncomplaining as she is, would, 
 I think, be deeply pained by any attempt to 
 take it out of her hands. I may say, indeed, 
 as the Greek statesman said of Athens, that my 
 wife governs me, and I govern Cushlane 
 Beg." 
 
 " Well," said Dalton, " if you choose to 
 retain an ideal popularity, among a set of 
 ruffians who would cut your throat or shoot 
 you from behind a hedge after they have 
 fawned upon and flattered you, rather than 
 secure your family in affluence, and place 
 yourself above the reach of their malice, why, 
 
 I have not another word to say, except that 
 }Ou and Themistocles are two very admirable 
 people. But if you wish to do yourself a 
 service, 1 repeat it, I am at hand, and 1 am 
 your friend. I, who neither love nor fear 
 the people. I make no secret of it. I tnink 
 them a base, fawning, servile, treacherous. 
 
Tracy's ambItion. ]S9 
 
 smooth-tongued, and black-hearted race of men ; 
 bk)ody in their inclinations, debauched and 
 sensual in their pleasures, beasts in their cun- 
 ning, and beasts in their appetites. They are a 
 disgusting horde, from first to last. I enquire 
 not into causes and effects ; I weigh not the 
 common cant of misrule and ignorance ; I 
 look not into historical influences ; I speak of 
 the men as I find them, and act by them as 
 such. It is nothing to me that Orson, the 
 beast, was once Orson, my brother. I treat 
 him as a beast while he continues so, and as 
 my brother wlien he resumes the form and 
 manner of a man. 1 hate the people. I 
 hate their fair professions and shameless Jiy- 
 pocrisy, their affected simplicity and real cunning, 
 their disgusting protestations of forgiveness, and 
 their deep and long cherished schemes of murder 
 and revenge. I hate the whole race as heartily 
 as they hate me, and have no popularity to 
 acquire or to pursue. If you would have a 
 
190 TPtACY^S AMBITION. 
 
 favourable specimen of this abominable caste, 
 take him, whose career of crime and midnight 
 murder was brought this evening to a close. 
 He was one of those unhappy characters whom 
 a bad education, poverty, and a fierce and 
 ignorant enthusiasm, consign, in countless num- 
 bers, to an untimely and ignominious grave, in 
 Ireland. So pitiable is the blindness, so vain 
 and chimerical the schemes of those wretched 
 men, that I heard, only a few days since, that 
 this young man had endeavoured to qualify his 
 actual and present poverty, in the eyes of his 
 " sweetheart, " by informing her that after the 
 country was in their own hands, Cushlane Beg 
 and Abel Tracy's farm was to be given to 
 him for his share of the conquest, and that 
 she'd then be as great a lady as Mary Regan 
 herself. For they feel a pleasure in thus dis- 
 tinguishing Mrs. Tracy, by her popish and 
 maiden appellation. Whether, as is frequently 
 the case in higher classes, the lady might have 
 
Tracy's ambition. 191 
 
 lent a favourable ear to her .suitor in consider- 
 ation of his ^' great expectations," is a question 
 which his untimely fate must leave for ever 
 undecided." 
 
 Here, as if wishing to terminate the conversa- 
 tion, he suddenly turned round to his son and 
 s.aid : — 
 
 ** Henry, was that long song you gave us 
 while ago of your own composition?" 
 
 ** It was, sir," said Henry, with a blush 
 and smile. 
 
 *' Then I am sorry," said the father, ^^ that 
 for once I am unable to congratulate you on 
 your taste." 
 
 '' Why so, sir?" 
 
 '* Ellen and I have just been telling him," 
 said Mary " that we thought it very sweet." 
 
 ^^Particularly" added Ellen, ^^ that fanciful 
 verse about his lost delights : — 
 
192 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 That song it is silent, that bower is dead, 
 
 The gold coloured mists of life's morning are flown, 
 
 My vase, it is broken, my flowers are gone. 
 
 I think that very pretty." 
 
 <' 1 think, sir," said Henry, ^' that I have 
 a strong party against you. If Monti had 
 carried the suffrages of the ladies with him 
 into Lombardy, I don't think the Delia Crus- 
 cans would have held out so long. But what 
 is your criticism, sir?" 
 
 " Why," answered Dalton, " I think both 
 the sentiment and language a great deal too 
 fine for the simple Irish melody, to which you 
 have adapted them. if you write for Irish 
 music, Harry, you must accommodate your 
 poetry to the genius of the composer. The 
 poor whiskey drinking harper, who first sung 
 that heart-broken gush of simple melody would 
 have blushed to see the modest daughter of his 
 rustic clarsech in company so very fine and 
 
Tracy's ambition. 193 
 
 grand as your verse. If you wish to do any 
 thing good, Harry, you must gather your in- 
 spiration from the life and scenery that surrounds 
 you, and give Ireland, what she yet wants, a 
 national song writer ; a Burns of the sheelings 
 and pellices." 
 
 '* What she yet wants ! " Mary exclaimed, 
 in surprise, holding up a volume of music which 
 is absent from the collection of few fair per- 
 formers in the British Islands. 
 
 *■ What she yet wants," reiterated Mr. Dalton, 
 with an emphasis smilingly resolute. " No one 
 that ever heard those sweet and sparkling 
 yerses which you uphold, can feel their elegance, 
 their wit, their fineness of sentiment, and of 
 expression, more truly than I do. But I am 
 hardly ready to grant them the title of national 
 songs, at least, according to my own idea of 
 what national songs should be. The best and 
 happiest of them, moreover, are too cultivated 
 in style, too purely fanciful, to give real 
 
 VOL. II. K 
 
94 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 pleasure out of the precincts of educated 
 life. They have not enough of the hogy 
 enough of plain and vigorous nature, I mean, 
 in their composition, to find a sympathy among 
 people whose sentiment springs warm and un- 
 rectified, (to use a truly Irish metaphor) from 
 the heart, and has nothing in common with 
 refinement of fancy or ingenious delicacies of 
 conceit. What Irish songs have we that may 
 be felt and relished in all classes so warmly as 
 " Roy's wife," or " My ain fire-side," among 
 our Scottish neighbours ; the great charm of 
 which is that they have all the air of improvi- 
 sation, and glide into the hearts of the hearers 
 with as little effort of reflection as the vo- 
 calists employ in their enunciation ? My Irish 
 Burns, Mrs. Tracy, should not be ashamed of 
 the occupations of rustic life in his country, 
 he should neither set a metaphysical paradox to 
 the air of *< The Red-haired man's wife," as 
 Bvron might do, nor take his illustrations from 
 
Tracy's ambition. 195 
 
 Greek history, like his great contemporary. 
 He should be spontaneous and national ; and, 
 above all, he should not devote his genius 
 exclusively to the gratification of circles who 
 stand so little in need of new modes of 
 amusement. And even if he should fail in be- 
 coming fashionable, (which I doubt, for novelty 
 in the affairs of genius seldom does,) he will 
 still have atchieved a high, a higher glory. 
 He will have invested the occupations of 
 humble industry with gentle and softening as- 
 sociations ; he will have thrown an illusive 
 (perhaps) but yet an effectual and alleviating 
 charm over the toils of the poor labourer, and 
 the cares of the struggling cottager ; he will 
 have induced a feeling of gentle and virtuous 
 contentment among the people ; and, more 
 than all, he will have banished, from their 
 lips and their memories, those vile, vulga , 
 and profligate ballads, which, from the days 
 of Edmund Spenser to our own, have been 
 
 K 2 
 
196 Tracy's ambitioj?. 
 
 the blot and bane of Irish cottage morals." 
 *' And these are the people whom you 
 hate !" said 1, addressing the speaker in an 
 under tone. 
 
 *^ I hate them for what they are," he re- 
 plied, '^ but I cannot avoid seeing what Mould 
 make them better. I told you I took them 
 as J found them. But, indeed, it is in 
 the merest Machiavelian spirit that I speak 
 of this improvement, for I look to its in- 
 tluence in furthering the «nds of government. 
 It is impossible not to see the impolicy of 
 neglecting the amusements of tlie people. It 
 is the most obvious support of a deceptive 
 mode of rule that can be imagined. If you 
 wish to fool a child, you fling him a toy. 
 The Caesars (you see, Mrs. Tracy, what a fine 
 scholar I am,) practised it amid all their 
 tyrannies ; and by it all the usurpers and despots 
 on the earth have been able to exercise a 
 power, with which no influence, upt)n the reason 
 
Tracy's ambition. 197 
 
 of their subjects, could have invested them. 
 But here it is not thought of at any time. 
 Our landlords give no rural fete, to reward 
 and encourage the industry of their tenants 
 and promote a virtuous spirit of emulation, as 
 some good men do in England. The poor 
 are not thought of here : thev are taxed lor 
 work and money, and then turned off to find 
 their own amusements, if they wish for them. 
 And this they do in good earnest, witness 
 their jig houses, their shebeens, their benefits 
 and balls, their drunkenness, their factious 
 spirit, their night-walking, and all the tur- 
 bulent and improvident vices of their cha- 
 racter." 
 
 ** Talking of ballads," said young Daltou, 
 turning round in his chair, ** 1 think a more 
 amusing or more perfect illustration could not 
 be presented, of the disposition and manners 
 of this people, than a judicious selection from 
 their own fire-side melodies. It would be 
 
198 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 worth the report of a whole board of com- 
 missioners.'* 
 
 Soon after, Dalton rose to depart, and 
 Willy, who was a favourite with him, ran to 
 order the horses, which he had left, he said, 
 ^' ating, no, eating, his oats in the steeble, no 
 stable, and,"^ — finding himself only getting deeper, 
 he scampered off, throwing back his curly head 
 and exclaiming *^ Oh, I'm tired of it for 
 English !" 
 
 Henry Dalton rode off, and we heard him, 
 from the hall door, singing as he went along 
 that stanza which Ellen had commended : 
 
 But vain was my dream, for those hours are fled. 
 That song it is silent, that bower is dead. 
 The gold coloured mists of life's morning are flown, 
 My vase it is broken, my flowers are gone ! 
 
 As the father stood on the steps, with 
 one foot in his stirrup, while little Ulick 
 shrunk behind the open door from the damp 
 cold wind, and sheltered the candle with his 
 
Tracy's ambition. 19Q 
 
 hand, he said to me, ^' Remember our conversa- 
 tion and exert yourself. Omit no opportunity : 
 learn to subdue your inclinations to your in- 
 terests, and leave the rest to me.'* 
 
 I shook his hand warmly and remained 
 wrapt in pleasing dreams upon the threshold, 
 until the sound of his horse's steps died away, 
 and Ulick, our pet, asked me, in a shivering, 
 plaintive voice, ** Wouldn't I come in and let 
 him shut the door, it was so cold ?" 
 
 I returned to our drawing room in silence, 
 persuaded, in an evil hour, to rend away those 
 bonds of attachment which had secured to me, 
 during a long course of years, the affections 
 of my poor dependants, and to become their 
 enemy instead of their guardian. Thus was 
 the keystone of my tranquil happiness re- 
 moved. 1 felt a little uneasiness, indeed, 
 at the idea of entertaining a number of 
 Policemen in my house, as my domestic 
 expenses were already as considerable as the 
 
200 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 most economical dilatation of my income coukf 
 aflford, but it would have been mean and 
 unlike an Irishman to have spoken of this em- 
 barrassment to Dalton, and besides, the loss 
 was nothing when 1 considered the object in 
 view. Dreams of golden happiness and splendour 
 floated through my brain, and I pressed the 
 hand of my daughter, still mourning for the 
 absence of her betrothed, while my fancy an- 
 ticipated the happiness the youthful pair would^ 
 enjoy in the participation of my coming prosr 
 perity. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The ghastly family of the Hag's Valley 
 haunted my imagmatioiij in despite of all the 
 assurances of Dalton, and made my life more 
 anxious and feverish then it had ever been. 
 Scarcely a night passed on which I did not look 
 with a candle under all the beds, and frequently 
 did I expect to meet the gloomy stare of the 
 surviving orphan bent on me from the darkness 
 underneath. A circumstance soon occurred to 
 
 K 5 
 
202 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 heighten that anxiety to a degree that was 
 almost painful. 
 
 I was returning alone in the evening of 
 the New Year's day following, after having 
 spent the forenoon at a neighbouring fair, and 
 entertained myself by observing the holiday 
 groups that were dispersed in various parts of 
 the high road, and the improved and tastefully 
 cultivated appearance of the young and fair 
 cottagers, as the sun went down on the last 
 evening of the expiring year. I turned aside 
 into a pathway which led, through an ancient 
 Abbey and burying ground, to my own lawn ; 
 and stopped for a few minutes to admire the 
 effect of the red and level light upon the ruins. 
 It had been an Augustine Friary in the days 
 of the famous John of Kildare, and the choir 
 and stalls, with various other parts of its massive 
 architecture were still in tolerable preservation. 
 A row of Gothic windows, of elaborate sculp- 
 ture, on which were escutcheons with the 
 
Tracy's ambition. 203 
 
 English and Saltire crosses ranged alternately, 
 fronted the declining sun, veiled from the direct 
 influence of his rays, by a screen of wandering 
 ivy. The massive pillars and ogives, which once 
 supported the arch and tower, were also protected 
 by a mantle of the same ruin-haunting shrub. 
 
 The low murmur of a female voice, speaking 
 in the Irish tongue, and with a strong and gut- 
 teral accentuation, attracted my attention to the 
 grave-yard. I beheld, at a few paces distant, a 
 palsied old woman kneeling near one of the 
 plain grass mounds or tumuli which contained 
 the ashes of the lowly dead, and which w'ere only 
 distinguished by an unhewn, undecorated head- 
 stone. She was wrapt in an old blue rug cloak 
 and hood, having the skirts turned over her 
 shoulders, and displaying underneath a gown 
 of a coarse brown stuff much rent and much 
 patched. I was shocked to discover on a nearer 
 approach that she was preparing, according to 
 the superstitious custom of the uninformed portion 
 
1204 TRACY S AMBITION^ 
 
 of tbe people, to bestow her curse on- some 
 individual by whom she had suffered injury. 
 She threw her hood back from her head, un- 
 pinned with trembling fingers the white kerchief 
 beneath which her grey hair was rolled into a 
 mass, and suffered those long, dry, straight, and 
 lifeless locks to fall down suddenly over her face 
 and shoulders ; a common custom in uttering 
 maledictions of peculiar solemnity and bitterness. 
 Extending, through this unseemly veil, her thin, 
 yellow, and skinny hands, clasped feebly together, 
 she had aleady faltered out some words of 
 her impious prayer, when I interrupted its 
 progress by coming suddenly forward. 
 
 ^'Unhappy wretch," said I, '* do you dare 
 to break the law of the Almighty in his own 
 temple? Have you no respect for the graves of 
 the dead, or for the holy ground where you are 
 standing, that you choose it as a proper place 
 for the indulgence of your abominable passions?" 
 
 Here I stopped short, and my anger was 
 
tra€y's ambition. 205 
 
 qualified by a mingling of pity and self reproach, 
 when the woman, turning on me with difficulty 
 her ghastly and blood shot eyes, discovered the 
 countenance of the mother of Shanahan, She 
 arase, with a laborious effort from her knees, 
 and supported herself on a long ashen pale 
 (resembling the bowlthaun^ or striker of a 
 flail) which she grasped with both hands, and 
 which yet shook pitiably under the influence 
 of her distemper. She looked on my face with 
 an expression of bitter hate and rage, while 
 her cheeks, wrinkled and dragged by age 
 and pain, acquired a flushing and a quivering 
 redness, and her black and wind-scorched 
 lips were drawn back with a malignant grin, 
 so as to discover a pair of gums in which 
 three or four discoloured and tobacco-stained 
 dog-teeth hung loose like the prongs in an 
 old and broken hay rake. 
 
 * From which the ancient Greeks derived the verb Bov\ofiai, 
 without any acknoveledgraent. 
 
£06 Tracy's ambition! 
 
 *' Ay, Abel Thracy," she said, speaking in 
 a feeble and faltering voice, and interrupting 
 her most angry sentences by long pauses of 
 exhaustion, ^' how easy 'tis — for you to come 
 here an' — preach to me, over — my child's grave 
 after — taking my last comfort in life — away 
 from me. You preach forgiveness to me that 
 showed none to mine ! This very evening 
 Shanahan, my son, was to be married to 
 the best girl in the three parishes. I heard 
 him often wishing for it to come, and sure it 
 is come, an' he's lying there within an arm's 
 length o' me in that grave, an' I talkin' to 
 the man that murthered him. You did this 
 for me, Abel Thracy, an' the prayer. 1 was 
 goin' to offer, 'till you hindhered me, was that 
 the Almighty might do as much for you. If 
 I had the arms or the sthrength of a man, I 
 would'nt be talkin' to you this way. But 
 though I'm weak, I have strong friends, an' 
 they have you marked. You can't sthrike a 
 
Tracy's ambition. 137 
 
 bush in the country from this day, but a friend 
 of Shanahan will start from it against you. 
 Ah, Abel Tracy, there is no law for the poor 
 in Ireland, but what they make themselves, and 
 by that law my child will have blood for blood 
 before' the year is out." 
 
 *' Hag that you are !" I exclaimed, in strong 
 passion, *' you upbraid me, but you are your- 
 self the murderer of your son. I know you. 
 When he was an infant on your lap, you 
 filled his mind with thoughts of revenge and 
 discord. You sung him to sleep with songs of 
 guilt and passion, you taught him to fight out his 
 own will among his own brothers and play-fellows. 
 From you, his mother, who should have soft- 
 ened and brought down the fierceness of his 
 disposition by words of peace and gentleness, 
 from you it was that he learned to foster and 
 indulge it. From you he learned that riot 
 and revenge were glory and honour, and that 
 blind rebellion was patriotism. You made him 
 
208 TKACY^S AMBITION. 
 
 a bad child, a worse man, a factious neighbour, 
 a rebel, a blood-spiller, and thus, having bound 
 his soul to perdition, you became his murderer. 
 If he could speak to you from his grave, he 
 would address you by no other name." 
 
 ** Folly on," said the hag, speaking in a 
 shrill voice of anger, '^ you destroyed him for 
 this world, and now you judge him for the 
 next. Fll answer to heaven, and not to you, 
 for how I reared my boy ; but my prayer is in 
 my heart, and it is little matter whether 1 say 
 it or not." 
 
 She then tore her head-dress, and scattered 
 it upon the ground,* muttering at the same 
 time the curse which 1 had prevented her 
 from pronouncing aloud. After this, she turned 
 away with the sullen and vengeful air of one 
 discomfited and conscience-struck, but fortified 
 against conviction, and tottered out of the 
 church-yard in so feeble a uiauucr tlial oiie 
 
 * A customary form of imprecation. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 209 
 
 might have said it was hardly worth her while to 
 leave a place to which she must so soon return. 
 
 The threat, however, which she had thrown 
 out was sufficient to alarm and startle me. 
 I knew the temper of the people, and this 
 intimation of their intentions rendered me 
 somewhat feverish and dyspeptical during the 
 ensuing weeks. 1 was careful never to go 
 from home without arms, and as seldom 
 as possible without my Police. This anxiety 
 of mnid preyed upon my spirits and rendered 
 me peevish, silent, oppressive, and impatient, 
 to all around me. I began to feel some 
 portion of Dalton's hatred of the people. 
 My wife, indeed, was miserable. Dalton had 
 not yet repaid my daughter's portion ; he 
 seemed on the contrary to be growing poorer 
 every day, and as I knew that poor young 
 Rowan Clancy would not be permitted to 
 espouse a wife entirely dowerless, the agony of 
 my apprehension was intolerable. To have it 
 
£10 Tracy's ambition* 
 
 known that I had robbed my own child ! 
 the plunderer of my sweet, gentle girl ! It 
 was too horrible. When I thought of it, I 
 started from my seat, and hurrying into the 
 open air, ran all over my now half-ruined 
 farm in a torture of suspense and terror. 
 
 Still, amid all my agonies and my solici- 
 tudes, the brilliant phantoms of ambition 
 would flit before my imagination and make 
 my heart drunk with unreal ecstacies. 
 
 Would to Heaven that I had never 
 dreamed of this ! that I had remained still 
 ignorant of the thirst for wealth and influence ! 
 that I were still contented to let my desires 
 keep pace with the even course of Nature 
 herself ! that they had, like her, year after year 
 their spring of reasonable hope, their summer 
 of certain promise, their autumn of calm fruition, 
 and their winter of cold and unsolicitous re- 
 pose ! That I wjere still content to receive 
 money for the mere purpose of counting and 
 
Tracy's ambitiox. 211 
 
 paying it away ! That I were again the 
 happy man I have been, above want, below 
 luxury, without a lioard, and without a debt, 
 cheerful at my fire-side, free-hearted in my 
 chamber, and even tempered in society; beloved 
 by my friends and my dependents, not feared, but 
 liked ; not envied, but esteemed ! 
 
 Such were the thoughts, that in moments 
 of musing and forgetfulness would steal through 
 ray heart, and shed a gentle sorrow over it. 
 But they never found their way to my tongue, 
 and were even treated as feeble and foolish 
 dreams which my waking consciousness repelled. 
 The only sentence with which I closed my 
 meditations was usually this involuntary one : 
 
 *' I wonder when will Dal ton pay me 
 back the money ?" 
 
CHAPTER Vll. 
 
 The week after that on which I met the 
 wicked widow, comprised the quarterly review 
 day of a corps of yeomanry to which I be- 
 longed* It was to be held near the villaj>e 
 
 of A , one of the most romantic spots in 
 
 the south of Ireland, N\hich lay within an 
 easy morning's ride of my house. This village 
 is of an older date than Dublin, it had the 
 honour of being laid waste by the Danes, the 
 
Tracy's ambition. 213 
 
 "Spaniards, the English, and others, at various 
 periods ; and it is one of the few districts which 
 continued to maintain a regular corps of yeo- 
 manry down to a late date. In this respectable 
 and warlike legion I had tire honour of holding 
 the commission of Lieutenant, a station which 
 1 maintained with unblemished reputation for 
 the space of twelve years. Jt is true, that, 
 during that time, the exigencies of the state 
 were not sufficiently alarming to afford us an 
 opportunity of distinguishing ourselves in 
 action, in such a manner as the ardour of our 
 patriotism would lead us to desire, but if we 
 never achieved conquests, we could, at least, 
 affirm with truth that we never sustained the 
 ignominy of defeat. After the introduction of 
 the Police, indeed, we merely took the field 
 on stated review days, occurring four times 
 vithin the year, when we went through our 
 manoeuvres, received a day's pay each, which 
 we drank to the king's health in the evening, 
 
214 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 interweaving onr moderate libations with tales 
 of our past achievements, and lamentations 
 on our present state of inaction. Still, however, 
 on these four days, we endeavoured to sustain 
 our ancient credit. Tt is true, that, previous 
 to the firing of the first volley, a recollection 
 of the ill condition of our muskets, the rusty 
 state of the barrels from long disuse, and the 
 consequent danger of their bursting in our 
 hands, would flash upon our minds, and make 
 the stoutest heart grow cold. But this was 
 only the depression of a moment, the bending 
 of the bow for the spring, the gathering of the 
 breath for the onset, and all our valour returned 
 after the first discharge. 
 
 This, our first quarterly review day after the 
 proclamation of the Insurrection Act, fell in the 
 midst of winter, at a time when the disturbances 
 of the country had reached an alarming height. 
 The morning rose bright with sunshhie, and 
 clear and biting with frost. We met. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 215 
 
 indeed, not under the most pleasing cir- 
 cumstances that we could wish. It was found 
 tliat scarcely two dozen serviceable stand of 
 musquetry could be numbered amongst our 
 whole corps, the remainder being deficient 
 either in locks, stocks, or barrels. Resolved, 
 however, to make up in discipline what was 
 wanted in equipments, our men assembled 
 with spirit, and proceeded to the ground, an open 
 
 space in tlie demesne of A , by a road 
 
 which ran in front of the Police Barracks. 
 Taking care to suffer the best appointed of our 
 heroes to constitute that file which was most 
 exposed to the observation of their rivals, we 
 rattled up Lord Hardwick's march with fife and 
 drum, and strutted away, determined, at all 
 events, not to furnish a temptation to ridicule, 
 by sneaking along as if we had anticipated and 
 deserved it. Notwithstanding our brave bearing, 
 nevertheless, the Police, (a party newly arrived, 
 who knew nothing of us or of the neighbour- 
 
2 [6 TKACY^S AMBITION. 
 
 hood,) were at little pains to suppress their 
 sneers ; and their jibes and laughter, as they 
 stood scattered in the sunshine in front of their 
 barracks, were loud enough to be heard by the 
 whole corps. 
 
 But our annoyances did not rest here. The 
 little ragged rabble who accompanied us caught 
 up the spirit of the jest, and, being less restrain- 
 ed by considerations of self respect, gave a 
 loose to their malice, and followed us to the 
 ground with loud shouts of laughter and shrill 
 hallooings of derision. When the corps formed 
 into line, and thus exposed the total inefficiency 
 of their warlike stores, I do not think a young 
 comic writer would be displeased if his first 
 piece gave so much entertainment. In vain 
 did we endeavour to complete the effect of the 
 scanty volley, by drowning it in the reitera- 
 tions of the immeasureable huzza — the spectacle 
 was too ludicrous to pass with impunity, and ^^e 
 left the ground (receiving one day's pay) co- 
 
TRACY*S AMBITION. 217 
 
 vered with ridicule and filled with a just in- 
 dignation. 
 
 But I should relate an incident which per- 
 plexed me in an unaccountable manner. While 
 our men were firing at the sign-board of a 
 neighbouring public house, put up as a target, 
 I observed an old man leaning over the bridge, 
 dressed in a ragged military uniform, wearing 
 a long beard, " a sable silvered," looking 
 singularly haggard in the eyes and mouth, and 
 lonesome and dreary in his whole appearance. 
 Observing him smile, as the men fired and 
 missed in succession, and more annoyed at his 
 still contempt than at the vulgar hooting of the 
 populace, I asked him whether he thought he 
 could do better himself if he were among them ? 
 Without making any reply, he instantly came 
 down upon the field, as if I had invited him to 
 try his hand. I bade Sergeant Swan hand him 
 a carbine. 
 
 The old soldier, untying his knap-sack 
 
 VOL. II. L 
 
218 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 laid it carefully upon the grass, and then taking 
 the carbine in his hand, paused a moment and 
 gazed upon the piece with a fond eye and a 
 hard but expressive smile. 
 
 *' This is an innocent piece," he said, 
 speaking in an accent which had the querul- 
 ous Kerry accent, modified by the shortness of 
 the barrack emphasis. He said so, pointing 
 to the word *' Toiver/' and the date of the 
 preceding year, which where engraved on the 
 barrel. 
 
 Lifting the piece to his eye, he fired. The 
 man near the target raised his hand and cried out 
 with astonishment : 
 
 '^ In the bull's eye, that 1 mightn't !" 
 
 A loud shout of applause burst from the po- 
 pulace. The old soldier smiled with satisfaction ; 
 but quickly relapsing into his habitually lonesome 
 stare, took up his knapsack again, and throwing it 
 over his shoulder, left the field without speaking 
 to any body. 
 
Tracy's ambitictn. 219 
 
 When we were assembled in the small inn 
 M'here we proposed concluding the exploits of 
 the day, by expending each man his quota *^ for 
 the good of the house," I enquired privately of 
 Mc Gawyl, the landlord, if he knew any thing of 
 the old man ? 
 
 *' Nothing," said this person, who piqued 
 
 himself on being a very precise and grammatical 
 speaker, — '^ only this ; that he landed out of a 
 West Indiaman that dropped anchor over yonder, 
 a few days since, and come ashore with a tall 
 yellow gentleman that nobody knows. The 
 both of 'em came here one night, an' the place 
 being crowded, 1 was obliged to lodge the old 
 sodger in a chair be the kitchen fire, while 
 the yellow gentleman slep in the room over- 
 head. 
 
 ^* He is gone off now," continued Mc Gawyl, 
 '^ to spend the night in some ould fabric of 
 a ruin or another. There's something or another 
 lying on his mind. The night I gave him a lodgin' 
 
 L 2 
 
220 TRACY*S AMBITION. 
 
 here, I came down late at night to look afther 
 everything, an' he was sitting this way with his 
 head restin' back again' the wall, an' every now 
 and then he'd start out of his sleep as if there was 
 iifty people callin' to him to get up^ an' then 
 seeing nobody, he'd give a great groan, an' 
 spread his hands over the fire, an' look back 
 shiverin' over his shouldther, an' settle himself 
 to sleep again. But hardly ever I hear him 
 talk to any body. Sometimes, too, when he'd 
 start out of his sleep, you'd bear him sayin' this 
 way, in a great flusther — I didn't ! — it wasn't 1 1 
 — Idid'nt!" 
 
 Old Clancy, our captain, Mr. Lorenzo Doody, 
 our second lieutenant, (a great disciplinarian, 
 who used to brush his eyebrows against the grain, 
 in order to make them stand out, and give a mi- 
 litary fierceness to his countenance), Mr. Paul 
 Hifle, our ensign, a great drinker and story-teller, 
 and possessed of a fine talent in describing an 
 entertainment, remained, w ith one or tw o others to 
 
TUAC^'S AMBITION. 221 
 
 ^see the sun down with the men. Sargeant Swan 
 arranged a small deal table across the fire-place 
 somewhat in the fashion of a dais, at which we 
 took our places, Captain Clancy planting himself 
 under a brightly coloured print of Moses in the 
 bull-rushes, which hung immediately over the 
 chimney piece. 
 
 The evening passed away unfelt, until the 
 <:lear moonlight was shining through the window 
 of the room in which we sat, so brightly as almost 
 to eclipse the lustre of our landlord's candles. 
 The greater number of the company had long since 
 left the house, empty chairs stood awry at the table, 
 the candles seemed about to expire for want of 
 snuffing, and the few persons that remained were 
 conversing with red dull eyes in a drowsy tone over 
 their glasses. — The street of the village was still 
 and empty, ^nd we couid only occasionally hear 
 the lonely echo of some footstep upon the frosty 
 road, and the sulky challenge of the police sen- 
 ilinels, as it approached their posts. Doody had 
 
222 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 fallen asleep with his hands thrust into the pockets 
 of his nether garment, and his chin reposing 
 among the involutions of his shirt frills, Mc 
 Gawyl had gradually insinuated himself into one 
 of the deserted chairs, and possessed himself of 
 a tumbler, which he at first laid hold of as an il- 
 lustration in speaking of the conduct of the po- 
 lice, and presently appropriated to a less figura- 
 tive use. 
 
 Suddenly we were all startled by a noise at 
 the street door, which was more like a pounding, 
 or a malletting, than a knocking. 
 
 Mc Gawyl, in compliance with my desire, 
 threw up the window, and was immediately ac- 
 costed by a voice without, which we all recognized 
 as that of the Chief Constable of the obnoxious 
 police. 
 
 '^ Are you an inmate of this house ?'^ he 
 asked in a loud tone. 
 
 '^An inmate !'' echoed Mc Gawyl, " mind 
 that tht)ugh ! ' I'm standin' frontin' him in the 
 
TRACY S AMBITION. 223 
 
 window here, an' he asks me if I^m an imnate 
 of the house ? Is it lookin' for povvdther you're 
 goin' again, that you keep me here answerin' you 
 in the cowld ? " 
 
 Here he puckered up the epidermis of his 
 nose, as a half frozen drop fell on the rosy and 
 jocund apex of that feature. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, fellow,'^ said the Chief, 
 ^^ and answer my questions," 
 
 *^ An' with submission to you," replied Mc 
 Gawyl, holding up the sash of the window, with 
 both hands, while he looked over his shoulder and 
 twisted his countenance significantly at us, *' how 
 will I answer your kusthins, if I'm to hold my 
 tongue?" 
 
 A fresh battery of musquet butts upon the 
 outside of the door was the retort of the Police- 
 men, and our host suddenly bursting into anger, 
 littered a vehement remonstiance against this un- 
 couth procedure : 
 
 '^^ What do you want at all with us, or what 
 
224 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 are we doin' to ye ? Can't ye speak at wonst?" 
 
 *' Are all your family at home ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Where are they ?" 
 
 '' There's one of 'em missin'." 
 
 " Has he a pass ?" 
 
 " Faix, I did'nt ax him ; nor he would n't 
 tell me if I did, for the rogue knew he was goin' 
 thr^sspassin'. But if you want to find the thief, 
 step up to the pound tomorrow morning, an' you'll 
 find him grunting on the stones." 
 
 " Is it a p'g you're talking of ? " 
 
 *' Oh, murther ! murther ! what a guess he has." 
 
 " Scoundrel, open the door." 
 
 *' Himself an' the ould gandherthat went out 
 rovin' afther sunset this evenin' ; if you'd make 
 a prisoner o' the gandher for me, I'd say you 
 were doin' some good, an' I don't know whose 
 bidden the gander would mind if not the goose's 
 — well, no malther; its all one." 
 
 Thunder again at the door. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 225 
 
 << 
 
 What ails ye, death-an-ovvnkadeers," shout- 
 ed the incensed publican, ''isn't there the list 
 pasted up upon the doore before ye'r eyes, an' 
 the moon shinin', an' I'm sure ye're all fine 
 scholars, every man, though 1 b'lieve ye've more 
 letthers than manners, indeed, if the truth was 
 known/' 
 
 The Chief accordingly applied his attention 
 to the written list of names, which, while the 
 Insurrection act was in force, was pasted up on 
 the door of every house. 
 
 '* Thade Mc Gawyl ! " he shouted aloud. 
 
 *' Here ! above you in the windy ! " was the 
 instant response. 
 
 *' Mary Delahunty ! " continued the Chief. 
 
 " Here ! " shrilled out a cracked female voice 
 from R hurdle loft at the far -end of the house. 
 
 *' Dick Mc Gawyl ! Nanny Mc Gawyl! 
 Thade Preston! &c. &c." ''Here! here! here!" 
 were responded from different quarters of the 
 iiouse in voices sharp, high, and low, reminding 
 
 X 3 
 
226 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 the hearer of the muster-roll of Hecate in 
 Macbeth. 
 
 *^ Very well! Now put out your lights !" said 
 the Chief. 
 
 '' Put out our lights !" 
 
 *' Put them out, or we'll save you the trou- 
 ble. We have orders to see all lights out, and 
 if you don't comply, I shall beat in the door." 
 
 ** And what would ye say, now, if there was 
 a parcel of gentlemen yeomen, the king's ser- 
 vants, here, drinkin' the king's health wit me ?" 
 
 ** So ho ! the secret's out at last ! " cried 
 the Chief, '^ you have strangers with you. I 
 thought so. Come, open the door, and let me 
 have the pleasure of seeing their loyal faces. 
 I'm not to be gulled with a story of the 
 
 A yeomanry stopping to get drunk at your 
 
 house at a time when all good subjects should 
 be in their beds." 
 
 To save the pannels of the slender door, they 
 Yvere admitted. I perceived, at once, by the leer- 
 
Tracy's ambition. 227 
 
 ing twinkle of the Chief's eye as he perused 
 the faces and persons of the company, that he 
 had resolved upon some piece of insolence or 
 waggery, or both. 
 
 '' Yeomanry — ham I — They have got the 
 sheeps' clothing indeed," — [the word sheep was 
 accented with a peculiar emphasis,] — but that 
 is a jacket. Master Mc Gawyl, that will tit 
 a wolf as well. Better be sure than sorry, is 
 an old saying that's not the worse for wear. If 
 these gentlemen, [another emphasis] be the 
 yeomanry in fact and truth, they know the 
 new law, I suppose, and have got their passes 
 about them.'* 
 
 " What pass would you be axin' beyont the 
 ridgimentals ? " said Mc Gawyl. 
 
 *' Dou't you think," answered the Chief, 
 casting an insolently inquisitive eye on an en- 
 vious rent which time had made in the elbow 
 of Sergeant Fizzel's coat," that a croppy could 
 iit himself at half price off the pegs of the 
 
228 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 Parade* with as handsome a suit of raggedmen- 
 tals as this gentleman's? " 
 
 Here he applied his fore-finger and thumb 
 to the fissure just hinted at, and pulled through it 
 part of an intimate garment, which, to the shame 
 of our corps be it spoken, was not the whitest nor 
 finest that we could wish. There was something 
 so delicate and poignant in the witticism, that 
 the Policemen could hardly keep their gravity, 
 and I even saw Mc Gawyl himself smothering 
 a laugh in the hollow of his hand. 
 
 Sergeant Fizzel, though placed nearly in tlie 
 same circumstances as Papirius, seemed not 
 in lined however to risk the fate of that famous 
 legislator, by imitating his ineffectual gallantry. 
 At first, indeed, he looked very big — then 
 glanced at the insulter — then at his sleeve — then 
 at the horse pistol which his foe held in his 
 hand — and then he drew a very long breath, and 
 pulled in the garment. 
 
 • The Monmouth Street of a neighbouring city:. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 2*29 
 
 We all now remonstrated, but without effect. 
 "Ihave orders/' said the Chief, '^ to take up 
 every body I find out after sunset, without a ma- 
 gistrate's pass. 1 know nothing of you, or of 
 this neighbourhood, and I must see your passes. 
 
 or you shan't pass me." 
 
 " We have no passes," said Clancy, " and 
 depend upon it, your insolence shan't pass 
 
 us." 
 
 " I understand you. Come along, my clever 
 fellows, I'll find you a lodging until morning. 
 March down stairs before us if you please." 
 
 " If we had our arms," said Doody, button- 
 ing up his coat with an expedition indicative of 
 deep indignation. 
 
 " If you had, what of it ? " said the Chief 
 sternly. 
 
 *' If we had," replied the latter, in a softer 
 tone, ''it would, I hope, demonstrate the tiiith 
 of what we allege." 
 
 " I don't know that," replied the other. 
 
^30 TRACY*S AMBITION. 
 
 sulkily, ^' unless you could show me how you came 
 
 by them. Go along down before me or by " 
 
 he swore a horrid oath, *' FU put a button 
 under your belt, my young fugleman." 
 
 By this epithet, I perceived, the man knew 
 Doody, and was bent upon executing his freak. 
 I accordingly took Clancy's arm, and walked for- 
 ward, resolving, in my own mind, to make the 
 young gentleman pay for his amusement as 
 dearly as ever sport was purchased. 
 
 ^' Come ! " he repeated tapping the table 
 and looking impatiently at Purtill, who still kept 
 his seat. 
 
 *' I'm no pippin squeezer," returned Pur- 
 till coolly, '* and I'll not leave my glass unfi- 
 nished." So saying he drained it with a scrupu- 
 lous exactness. 
 
 " Most loyal Chief!" he then added, while he 
 entwined his fingers closely around the neck of 
 a quart bottle, containing a portion of Mc Gawyl's 
 best proof spirits. ^* Since this has been, the 
 
Tracy's ambition. 251 
 
 cause of our delinquency, I trust you will think 
 it only fair that it should share our imprisonment. 
 Take my word for it, that however fiery the fel- 
 low is now," he added shaking the bottle gently 
 and tenderly as he deposited it in his great coat 
 pocket, '^ his spirits will be brought low enough 
 before morning." 
 
 *^ You are a pleasant fellow," said the Police 
 man, '* come along." 
 
 *' The yeomen taken up undher the Act ! " 
 I heard Mc Gawyl ejaculate as he stood at the 
 open door- way, gazing after us. ** O murther ! 
 murther ! what *11 the Peelers do next, I won- 
 dher? If the Parliament itself was there, I 
 bMieve it would n't escape ye afther that. Hallo 1 
 Misther Skerrit !" 
 
 ^* Well, what do you want ? " said the Chief, 
 turning his head, after we had gone half way up 
 the street. 
 
 '* There's Jim Flanagan's head out apast his 
 dooreway, above sthreet, afther sunset an' all. 
 
S3g Tracy's ambition. 
 
 -Cut it off, an' carry it to Bridewell with ye, an' 
 I'll swear again it at the sessions ; an' ye may do 
 it with a safe conscience, too, for his head would 
 be no loss to his family, whatever the legs an' 
 hands might be." 
 
 We marched on, and were lodged in the cold 
 bridewell, the key w as turned in the door, and 
 =we were left to look into one another's faces and 
 long for the dawn. 
 
 Purtill endeavoured to keep us alive by sing- 
 ing the following song, while we took a part in 
 the chorus, rather in order to show that we would 
 not be depressed by Skerrit's malice, than from 
 any actual gaiety of spirits : 
 
 Would you choose a friend ? Attend I attend ! 
 I'll teach you how to attain your end. 
 He, on whose lean and bloodless cheek 
 The red grape leaves no laughing streak, 
 On whose dull, white brow and clouded eye, 
 Cold thought and care sit heavily, 
 
 Him you must flee, 
 
 'Tween you and me, 
 That man is very bad company, 
 
Tracy's ambition. 233 
 
 And he around whose jewelled nose 
 
 The blood of the red grape freely flows, 
 
 Whose pursy frame, as he fronts the board, 
 
 Shakes like a wine-sack newly stored, 
 
 In whose half-shut, moist, and sparkling eye, 
 
 The wine-god revels cloudily. 
 
 Him you must flee, 
 
 'Tween you and me. 
 That man is very bad company. 
 
 But he who takes his wine in measitte. 
 
 Here Purtill quaffed off his own glass, with- 
 out adding half a second to the time. 
 
 Mingling wit and sense with pleasure, 
 Who likes good wine for the joy it brings, 
 And merrily laughs and gaily sings ; 
 With heart and bumper always full. 
 Never maudlin, never dull, 
 
 Your friend let him be, 
 
 'Tween you and me, 
 That man is excellent company. 
 
 But we would have sung with a better heart 
 if thej had not caged us. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It appeared soon after that Skerrit had disco- 
 vered his mistake, for a sergeant of Police ar- 
 rived to open the doors, and to inform us that 
 we were at Uberty. The insult offered, however, 
 was too glaring to be so easily forgotten, and 
 we sent back the man to say, that he must come 
 himself and make a formal apology for his con- 
 duct. " As loyal men they had gone in, and as 
 loyal men they should come out," said Doody. 
 
TRACY^S AMBITION. 9>35 
 
 The man went back, and soon after we 
 heard a horseman slowly pacing up to the 
 bridewell door. He dismounted, and we 
 heard him soon after humming a song, as he 
 paced to and fro in the moonlight, and seemed 
 to pay no more attention to the cold, than if he 
 were an Esquimaux, or had been to the Pole at 
 least. We listened attentively, and could dis- 
 tinguish the following words, sung with much 
 taste and sweetness :— ^ 
 
 Let others breathe in glowing words 
 The secret of their bosom-pain. 
 And bid the loud harp's speaking chords 
 Tell o'er the weary tale again. 
 From me no burning strain shall rise, 
 A cold heart's answering sigh to move, 
 But I will gaze upon those eyes. 
 And waste away ia silent love. 
 
 He then stamped two or three times on the 
 road, whistled, hummed a little, and commenced 
 a second verse : — 
 
236 Tracy's ambition* 
 
 II. 
 
 I ^nnot find in ait a strain 
 To echo forth mine inward moan, 
 If sighs and looks can't tell my pain, 
 Oh, never shall my love be known. 
 Safe is the flame, whose wavering wreath 
 A tear may quench, a sigh can move, 
 But full of danger and of death 
 Is the pent fire of silent love. 
 
 " A charming night he has chosen for a 
 serenade/' said Purtill. 
 
 ^' Hush ! " said another, ^' he's going to give 
 us another verse." 
 
 " No, he's only humming over the last, his 
 wit is run aground." 
 
 "That's strange," said Purtill, "for, to judge 
 by his melody, and the time he chose for singing 
 it, he had no more than would have floated in 
 any shallow." 
 
 " Speak to him, Tom," said Clancy, " you 
 are safe here." 
 
 Purtill went to the barred window and threw 
 «p the sash. 
 
TPtACY^S AMBITION. 2S 7 
 
 "A fine night for vocal music, sir," he said 
 aloud. 
 
 '* You are very good, sir/' replied the 
 stranger. 
 
 *^ I hope you don't find your voice at all 
 affected by the frost, sir?" 
 
 '* By no means, sir." 
 
 *' Perhaps, sir, you would take something 
 to clear it, and favour us with an additional 
 stanza. Da capo, if you please. 1 have 
 got a balsam here that 1 call the *' pippin 
 squeezer's best friend," or the '^sick lover's 
 walking-stick." Now your silent love is a great 
 deal too washy an affair for me, it is just 
 punch without spirits, the sweet and the weak. 
 The strong is here in my hand, and if you 
 will accept a little I think it will give you 
 some spirit. Here's some whiskey, sir. You 
 can make grog of it, as they do in the County 
 Clare. '^ 
 
 ^^How is that?"' 
 
^38 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 *' Why, by drinking all the whiskey now and 
 the water to-morrow, or after." 
 
 ^' You are very good again/' said the other, 
 " I'll take a little, if you please." 
 
 Purtill handed him a glass through the 
 bars. He took it and, at the same time drawing 
 Purtill's arm through with a sudden force, and 
 bringing his face close to the bars, dealt him 
 a great blow on the nose, exclaiming " Upon 
 my word, sir, you are right, for (another blow) 
 I begin to find myself getting a little spirit 
 already." 
 
 *' The deuce you are," cried Purtill, en- 
 deavouring to return the blow, but without 
 success, for his eyes were both bewildered, and 
 he only broke his fingers, against the bars, *^ you 
 scoundrel, I wish I knew your name." 
 
 " You will find it on this card," said the 
 other, '* as soon as you are able to read, for, 
 indeed, I think without a little of the ^^ sick 
 lover's walking-stick " they can't bear the light for 
 
Tracy's ambition. 0.30 
 
 some time. I wish you a good night, sir, and 
 pray apply to me when you want to make grog 
 again." 
 
 He rode oflf, leaving Purtill in a rage, 
 which our general laughter did not tend to di- 
 minish. The name which he found upon the 
 card, and which I had already anticipated from 
 the tone of the voice, was that of Mr. Henry 
 Dalton. He instantly determined upon sending 
 him a message, and bespoke Lorenzo Doody, 
 as his second. 
 
 '*Well, Purtill," said I, "that gentleman 
 is able to do something besides singing silent 
 love." 
 
 He was about to answer this speech with 
 great passion, when the sergeant of Police re- 
 turned, to say that his Chief would see us all 
 hanged, (he used a worse word) rather than make 
 us any apology. He then departed, leaving the 
 door open, and calling the bridewell-keeper to 
 witness that there was no restriction left upon us. 
 
240 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 We maintained our resolution, however, with 
 a firmness worthy of the most famous martyrs 
 to public principle. But it was a cold night, 
 and there was no fire in the house. As the 
 first paroxysms of our zeal subsided, and the 
 disagreeableness of our situation began to press 
 more sharply upon our feelings, a ludicrous de- 
 gree of indecision manifested itself in our 
 demeanour. Some cast bashful and sidelong 
 glances at the open door, thought of the blading 
 turf that burned on their hearths at home, and 
 strove to call the blood into their frost-bitten 
 toes and fingers by breathing into the hollow of 
 their hands, squeezing them under their arms, 
 and between their knees, beating, "Go to bed, 
 Tom," with their feet and various other artifices. 
 They began at last to hang their heads with a 
 secret suspicion that their conduct was rather 
 ludicrous than heroic. 
 
 " Well," said Doody, '' let him do as he 
 pleases. Even at common law we have our 
 
Tracy's ambition. 241 
 
 redress by laying an action for false imprison- 
 ment." 
 
 "False imprisonment, sir!" ejaculated Ser- 
 geant Swan, who w^as thrashing himself fiercely 
 with both arms in another corner, '^ why then, 
 with submission sir, this is what I call rale impri- 
 sonment — unless indeed it be made out false impri- 
 sonment in regard o' lavin' the doore open." 
 
 " I wisht we had a lighted pipe itself," said one 
 of the men. 
 
 *' Could'nt you get a sod or two, an' the seed 
 o' the fire over at Jim Flanagan's ? " asked another, 
 " dear knows, we'll be perished here before 
 
 mornin'." 
 
 *' 1 think I'll just step out and stamp my 
 feet a little on the road abroad," said Purtill, 
 who had been gradually enlarging the circuit of 
 his perambulations in the little room, and now, 
 suiting the action to the word, stepped across the 
 threshold and itito the free and glorious moon- 
 shine. And we heard him stamp and stamp, until 
 
 VOL. II. M 
 
242 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 he stamped himself home to bed and out of our 
 hearing. 
 
 The man who was despatched for the 
 *'seed o' the fire," found a happier resting 
 place, for he returned not to his companions 
 in duresse. Sergeant Swan went after him ; but 
 the event made us think " our swan a crow,'^ like- 
 wise. Clancy went home to let his family know^ 
 where he was. Doody himself muttered a sentence 
 or two about the duty of a soldier, and insinuated 
 that he had a few stacks of white lammas to thresh 
 in the morning, which would oblige him to be up 
 at the " first light.*' In a word, on the strength 
 of some sudden recollection which occurred to all 
 of us, the bridewell was as empty as a drunkard's 
 pocket when the police returned. 
 
 /' Tell me," said Clancy, after I had overtaken 
 him on the road, (for he w^alked on foot) ^* do you 
 think this duel will take place between Purtill and 
 young Dalton?" 
 
 " I am certain of it," said I, *^ for Dalton is 
 
Tracy's ambition. 243 
 
 jealous of his reputation, although indeed it 
 would suffer little by his declining a meeting with 
 Purtill." 
 
 '' Why so?" 
 
 " He is somewhat of a fire-eater." 
 
 '' Pooh !" 
 
 ^' And not the very pink of respectability 
 neither. He is a true wild Irishman ; drinks for 
 the mere enjoyment of the headlong state of 
 mind it causesand lives upon the excitement of 
 continual danger. He is in debt with every body 
 that he could ever get to trust him — his breast is 
 like a riddle from bullet-scars received in single 
 combat — he has been tried for assaults innumera- 
 ble, and is as familiarly known in the wards of 
 the County Gaol as on his own farm. He has got 
 a relative in the Indies, of great wealth, whose 
 property he expects to inherit, and to whose 
 speedy demise he drinks a bumper every night of 
 his existence." 
 
 M 2 
 
244 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 '^ 1 heard it said that he once proposed for 
 Miss Tracy?" 
 
 '' And so he did." 
 
 " Assurance !" 
 
 " It was met as such, and the poor fellow 
 stormed a little, for I believe he really loved her. 
 But we made him merry for a few nights and sent 
 him home in good humour." 
 
 Our roads divided here, and I proceeded 
 home alone. I had not gone far, when I perceived 
 our family piper, Phil Fogarty, riding towards 
 me in evident perturbation. It was the lirst time 
 I had seen him since my change of life, for he 
 had taken alarm one evening at Dalton's asking 
 him to play " Croppies lie down ;" and the nasal 
 squeal of his chaunter was no longer heard from 
 his modest recess behind the parlour door. 
 
 *' Well Phil," said 1, " what's the matter 
 with you ?" 
 
 '^ Is that the masther that's there?" 
 '( It is," 
 
Tracy's ambition. 245 
 
 " Oh, masther, a 'ra gal, Pm spoilt entirely 
 with the fright?" 
 
 " From what, Phil." 
 
 '* There's soniethin' that's not good hi the 
 ould church, beyond. I seen a light an' I 
 passin' !" 
 
 " A light in the church ?" 
 
 " Oh, that I may be grey if I did'nt, with 
 my two eyes, as plain as I see that moon above 
 us." 
 
 " Did you go to the church to look in ?" 
 
 '* Me ! Eyeh ! Faix, I'm sure that I did'nt. 
 I thought every foot o' the road was a mile 'till I 
 w^as at this side o' the hill. But I'd go back with 
 your honour, if you're for goin' that way, for J'm 
 not a bit afeerd when I have company." 
 
 We turned back, and tying our horses at the 
 road side, took our way softly through the fields 
 to the same old ruin in which 1 had met the aged 
 and vindictive mother of the Shanahans. 
 
 1 saw a light shooting in wiry streams through 
 
0,46 tracy's ambition. 
 
 one of the apertures in the wall of what was once 
 the wine cellar of the Abbey. It was now a damp 
 and dismal vault, dimly lighted and strewed with 
 planks of mouldering coffins, and remains of a 
 still ghastlier description. I crept softly to an 
 end window and beheld, within, a picture that 
 stimulated my curiosity in an extraordinary degree. 
 An old man was seated at the far end on a pile 
 made up of the broken coffin boards, covered 
 with straw and arranged in the manner of a bed. 
 Two mouldering lids, placed crosswise, served 
 for the head and foot boards. A fire burned 
 close to the wall at a little distance. On a project- 
 ing stone in the wall, fastened by a lump of clay 
 instead of a candle stick, burned a small candle, 
 and near it were hung a vial, which I supposed to 
 contain holy water, and a rosary of rude beads, 
 made from the vertebra* of fishes. It is so common 
 a circumstance in the country parts of Ireland 
 to find pilgrims thus taking up their abode in the 
 mouldering testimonials of the monastic greatness 
 
Tracy's ambition. 247 
 
 of our island, that 1 should not have paid more 
 attention to the scene than its picturesque effect 
 might challenge, if it had not been for another 
 circumstance. The dress and countenance of the 
 old man were those of the soldier who had put 
 us to shame at the review. 
 
 He was fast asleep ; his head resting against 
 the wall, and his hands clasped upon his lap, 
 I was about to creep from my hiding place, with 
 the view of entering the vault, and getting into 
 conversation with the stranger, when the sound 
 of a footstep falling near arrested my attention, 
 A tall figure, muffled closely up, passed us in 
 the moonlight. By his manner of peeping in, 
 and his surprise at seeing what we had seen 
 before, I judged him to be a stranger, attracted, 
 as we had been, by the light from the vault. 
 
 The first movement of the new comer, on en- 
 tering the wine-cellar, was to move with languid 
 steps towards the fire, and stoop over it with a 
 look of extreme chilliness. He was a tall, wiry 
 
€48 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 figure, dressed with a richness that betokened 
 rank and wealth, slightly made, and standing feebly 
 on his limbs. A handsome surtout, with cuffs 
 and collar of rich sable, gloves well furred and 
 lined, lambs-wool wrists, and a seals-kin travelling 
 cap, carefully brought down over the ears, con- 
 stituted the principal articles of his costume. 
 
 After he had warmed himself at the fire, he 
 walked towards the old man, and stooped down- 
 w^ard to look into his face. That face appeared to 
 me, even at the distance at which I stood, to 
 have undergone a singular alteration since I 
 first beheld it. It was gathered at the lips, 
 with an expression of ghastly fear, and the grisly 
 hair was thrown back, with a disturbed appear- 
 ance, from his brow. When the stranger touch- 
 ed his shoulder, in order to wake him, he started 
 on a sudden wide awake, and spoke in hurried 
 whispers some incoherent sentences. 
 
 ^' Do not fear,'' said the stranger, in a lan- 
 guid voice, '' I am not your enemy. Are not 
 
Tracy's ambition. 249 
 
 ^ou the old soldier who made the voyage from 
 the Indies with me?" 
 
 The old soldier, still much confused, looked 
 on him with face upturned and terrified. 
 
 " I remember you, sir," he said at last ; 
 ^* you were good to me on board the ship." 
 ** Why are you here at this hour? " 
 '*■ I have no other lodging." 
 ^' Is it possible you cannot afford the price 
 of a bed ? " 
 
 *' The Almighty forgive me, sir, it is not 
 that. But I am well lodged here, too well for 
 what I deserve. I have prayers to say, and 
 penance to do for a bad life, an' I had rather 
 •do it here by myself, where my mind would'nt 
 be taken away from it, than in a dwelHng 
 house. " 
 
 '* But 'tis a gloomy life. What can you 
 have to wash away, that would require so dreary 
 a mode of atonement ? " 
 
 '^ Phil Fogarty," whispered I to the piper 
 M o 
 
250 TRACY'S AMBITION. 
 
 who lay near me on the ground, " it is not 
 fitting you should hear this discourse. Go over 
 to my house, and 1 will follow you." 
 
 '* Oh, that the sighth may never leave me 
 masther, but I dare'nt stir a foot without you, 
 sir." 
 
 '' Well, don't listen, then. If they are 
 plotting any thing, it is fitter I should hear it 
 than you." 
 
 '' I'll lie down here an' cover my two ears 
 with my hands, so that I can't hear as much as 
 a breath if they were talkin' thundher." 
 
 He did so. 
 
 " The best of us, and those that go laste in 
 the way of temptation," continued the old soldier, 
 ^^ have something to repent of, and what could 
 be expected from a man of my kind, that spent 
 all his life in bloodshed ? — All, beginning airly." 
 
 Phil, hearing the word bloodshed, as I 
 suppose, and imagining that the speakers in 
 the vault were some of the insurgents, his 
 
Tracy's ambition. 25\ 
 
 neighbours, was unwilling that I should gather any 
 information, by which their safety might be endan- 
 gered. Accordingly he gave a slight cough, 
 just sufficiently loud to be heard by those inside. 
 I saw them start, and hurried off along the church 
 yard path, in order to avoid the mortification 
 of being detected in the act of eve's dropping. 
 I found a horse, which 1 took to be that of the 
 stranger, fastened on the road side, at a little 
 distance from our own, with holsters and rich 
 furniture. I mounted my own ani.nal, and 
 rode home, where 1 found my poor Mary, 
 (unlike the naughty lady of Breifni, who had not 
 even a rush lighting in the house on her hus- 
 band's return), watching anxiously by oar par- 
 lour fire, and chiding the rough necessities of 
 the time which called up peaceful men from their 
 domestic hearths to scenes of bustling danger 
 and despatch. 
 
 My house was safe enough, for 1 found my 
 garrison of Police in the kitchen, keeping 
 
252 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 up their courage with rashers of bacon and 
 draughts of cider of my best manufacture. I 
 said nothing to any one of my adventure at the 
 Abbey, but secretly resolved to learn something 
 more, if possible, of the persons who had excited 
 my curiosity so strongly. And in the mean 
 time, I applied myself to the furthering of my in- 
 terests in the manner which Dal ton recommended. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 My '* Peelers," indeed, were " huge feeders," 
 and as I passed, day after day, through my capa- 
 cious kitchen, and cast an eye toward the bacon 
 hooks, where I beheld the flitches vanishing one 
 after another, I felt a sensation very like 
 anxiety begin to stir within my heart. A com- 
 plete revolution had taken place in the politics 
 and economy of Cushlane-Beg. My train of 
 hereditary dependents disappeared at sight of the 
 
254 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 Police, as fairies use to do at sight of a priest, 
 and began to look on their old master as an 
 altered man. My tenants became more reserved 
 and more respectful ; and when I walked into 
 the fields, to superintend my workmen, I per- 
 ceived that the conversation was hushed, or the 
 subject changed on my approach, and that every 
 word spoken in my presence was well weighed 
 and guarded with a suspicious deliberation. 
 My attempts at cordial jocularity and good 
 humour were not received as of yore ; and the 
 more familiar and condescending I became, the 
 more distant and distrustful did the men appear. 
 When I spoke in anger, I was not met, as 
 formerly, with bold and open remonstrance and 
 warm self-justification. They heard me now in 
 silence, with dark and solemn countenances, and 
 without any symptom either of dissent or ac- 
 quiescence. 
 
 In my own immediate family, likewise, my 
 new course of life had produced an influence 
 
TRACY'S AMBITION. 255 
 
 that was not calculated to eiicrease our happi- 
 ness. The female part of the household, who 
 did not enter into Dalton's ideas of papistical 
 extermination so readily as I had done, were 
 hurt at the extreme rigour with which I exerted 
 myself to second his views. My uneasiness, 
 moreover, occasioned by my expenses, and by 
 Dalton's delaying to refund the large sum I had 
 lent him, rendered me less cheerful and good 
 humoured than usual. A gradual degree of 
 embarrassed reserve diffused itself over the family 
 circle. Neither my wife, nor daughter, ventured 
 a remonstrance on any occasion, ana this circum- 
 stance joined to the consciousness diat they dis- 
 approved my conduct, rendered me doubly im- 
 patient and ill-humoured. 
 
 A poor man, who owed me some arrears of 
 rent, applied to Mary to procure him some far- 
 ther time, as the whole support of his family, 
 during the ensuing spring, depended on the stock 
 of potatoes which I had seized for the money 
 
S56 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 due. I wanted the sum, and refused, for the 
 first time in my life, to admit her intercession. 
 The next day, I went to superintend the 
 canty or auction of the potatoes, in person. 
 
 <' Folly * on, Misther Thracy ! folly on ! " 
 I heard the owner, (a white-headed, calm-eyed, 
 patient old man) say, as I approached. '* The 
 days are altered with Jis, Masther. Tm ould 
 enough to remember a gentleman, a rale gentle- 
 man, that kep house in Cushlane-Beg, an* that 
 would n't see my little piatez canted on me this 
 mornin' ; an' that gentleman was your own fa- 
 ther. But folly on ! An* I second cousin to 
 your own fostherer, too ! But what hurt ? 
 Folly on. We had nothing to look to, the four of 
 us, but that little pit o* piatez, till the new ones 
 come in, while you an' the Peelers can have 
 what ye like best, at the great house. I seen 
 the day, masther, when the doores o' that house 
 were open to the poor man, an' the smoke o' 
 
 ♦Follow. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 257 
 
 the chimney was a pleasant token to the thra- 
 veller goin' the road, an' the night comin' on, an' 
 he hungry, an' the inns dear, an' his pocket 
 empty; but the times are changed; folly on! 
 Ah, sir, there's One above that's lookin' down on 
 you an' me this day, an' that sees how hard you're 
 dhrivin' on the poor man. You have children, 
 Masther, as well as 1 have ; take care would 
 
 the time come when but indeed, I won't 
 
 say that, for I'd be sorry it should, for their own 
 sakes. You put your trust in Dalton, an' for- 
 sake your people. Take care, 1 advise you. 
 Dalton proved a degaiver to others, an' he may 
 to you. Folly on, sir, folly on ! The time was, 
 formerly, when the gentlemen used to open their 
 doores to take the poor into their kitchens an' 
 cherish 'em ; but now in place o' takin' 'em in, 
 they go to find the poor man in his own cabin to 
 take the food from betwixt his lips. There's 
 my piatez, the price of my hard labour, take 'em 
 with you, sure 'tis you has the best call to 'em." 
 
^58 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 He turned away with a flushed cheek, and 
 the smile of one who, feeling himself hardly 
 used, would not stoop to any violent expression 
 either of distress or indignation. Fortifying 
 my resolution by recollecting the commonness of 
 the occurrence, I affected an indifference which 
 1 was very far from feeling, and made some 
 customary answer about the length of time al- 
 ready given, my own calls, and the impossibility 
 of paying rent without receiving the value of my 
 land — (to each of which he replied by a smile 
 and toss of his head). The sale proceeded, and 
 I put the money in my pocket. 
 
 Some further instances of a sin>ilar rigour 
 completely unfixed the slight hold which I yet 
 retained on the affections of my tenants. Their 
 mild and benevolent protectress, in my own fa- 
 mily, had lost her influence, and as she seemed 
 as affectionate as ever, and always admitted 
 the justice of my reasons, I took it for granted, 
 that she felt nothing more than she expressed 
 
Tracy's ambition. 259 
 
 on the subject. They were, however, the first 
 favours I^had ever refused her, and as she per- 
 ceived how painful to me, as well as to herself, 
 was the continued failure in her applications, 
 she soon discontinued them altogether, and found 
 her resource in patience and the care of her 
 children. 
 
 I was walking down our avenue, a few 
 mornings after these circumstances abovemen- 
 tioned, when I met Dalton and his son, followed 
 by a number of Police, riding towards me. 
 Young Henry had his arm bound in a sling, 
 and whether from that, or, from some other cause 
 looked, as 1 thought, a little pale and anxious. 
 I observed him make an effort to remove his 
 arm from the sling as I approached, but his 
 father, with an angry look, prevented him. 
 
 *' Psha ! " I heard Henry say, as I came 
 up, ** it appears so effeminate to go about 
 bandaged in this manner, on account of a little 
 scratch." 
 
260 Tracy's ambitioK. 
 
 '* No accident, I hope, Mr Dalton?" I saidj 
 as we met. 
 
 '^ Look at him, Tracy ! " cried his father, 
 his eyes sparkling at the same time with affec- 
 tion, fatherly pride, anxiety and grief. ''Did 
 you ever see such an atrocious young scoundrel ? 
 This is the second duel he has fought within 
 the last fortnight, and shed blood on both 
 occcasions." 
 
 '' A duel, Henry ! " ^ 
 
 " They went out last night after dusk, and 
 lired two cases of pistols in the dark. And not 
 content with that, sir, this young villain insists 
 upon adjourning it to this morning — " 
 
 '' Upon my word, sir — '' 
 
 *' Hold your tongue, sir, I say ! This yoimg 
 desperado insists upon going out again this 
 morning " 
 
 " But, sir, upon my word you mistake. 
 That was Mr, Purtill's own arrangement. He 
 acknowledged it himself upon the ground, and 
 
Tracy's ambition. 261 
 
 I could not in honour have avoided it, for it was 
 I, you know, who received the challenge." 
 
 " Aye, you be d , you and your honour, 
 
 to go out and shoot an honest man through the 
 leg in a morning, and get your arm well nigh 
 shot away, and then come here prating of your 
 honour, you atrocious monster ! " 
 
 And at the same time you might see the 
 father's eyes sparkling with delight. 
 
 *' And Mr, Purtill is wounded then?" said I. 
 *^ Severely — severely wounded, sir," the father 
 continued — ^' the young scoundrel shot him 
 through the leg. The young villian ! He has 
 no more feeling than a stone. Not a single 
 tremor, no remorse. The fellow always brings 
 down his man. He shot O 'Sullivan at the 
 first fire." 
 
 I invited both the gentlemen into my house, 
 but was only successful with the son. Dalton, 
 informed me that he was about to search some 
 houses in the neighbourhood, and hinted at the 
 
262 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 probability, that, before evening, he should be 
 able to rid me for ever of all my apprehensions 
 with regard to the surviving Shanahan and his 
 oath of vengeance. 
 
 I could not avoid smiling to see that Dalton 
 acted and spoke as if I were the sole or prin- 
 cipal object of Shanahan's resentment, when I 
 knew that in point of fact he was himself 
 many degrees more obnoxious to that person 
 and his friends. 
 
 He rode away with his Police, and I re- 
 turned with Henry to the house. The latter 
 took an opportunity, when unobserved, to slip 
 the sling from off his neck, and put it into his 
 pocket. 
 
 '^ Is your arm so strong," said I, '^ that you 
 can venture to take such a liberty as that? " 
 
 " My hurt is nothing," he replied, *^ and it 
 looks like a piece of nonsensical foppery to 
 go in to the ladies with a disabled limb, as if L 
 were after doing some great things." 
 
Tracy's ambition. ^(}3 
 
 It was a little touch of manliness of this 
 nature in his character that made me like Henry, 
 as I di 1, through all the changes of our family. 
 I left him alone with the ladies, who seemed 
 both delighted to see him, and went out upon 
 my grounds to do some necessary business. 
 
 I was standing, about noon, in a part of my 
 farm, where I had men laying out sea-weed, 
 when the sound of an affray, intermingled with 
 the shrill and re-iterated screams of a female, 
 broke on the mid-day stillness. Accustomed as 
 I had now become to harden my heart against 
 the pleadings of distress, I paid but a momen- 
 tary attention to this occurrence. I rebuked 
 the men for their looks of pity and curiosity, 
 and bade them continue their labour. The 
 anxieties, the remorses, the resentments, the 
 ambitious restlessness, and dreams of self- 
 aggrandizement which had preyed upon my 
 heart in turn, throughout the two preceding 
 months, had altered my nature, and called out 
 
264 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 a sternness and violence of character, which I 
 knew not that I possessed. 
 
 Suddenly a poor countrywoman appeared in 
 the neighbouring gap, and perceiving me in the 
 field, hurried across the ridges of stubble with 
 a speed that indicated deep alarm. She threw 
 herself on her knees before me, and remained 
 for a few moments endeavouring to recover 
 breath to speak. 
 
 ^* Oh, masther, speak for him ! Forget, for- 
 give all, and speak for him ! " 
 
 '' Mary Shanahan ! " 
 
 '^ My husband, sir ! The father of my 
 childer that they're tairin' from me, this way. 
 Come, and good luck to you, and spake a word 
 for him to the Peelers. Dalton has laid his 
 hand upon him, and the man that Dalton takes 
 from his family never again darkens his own 
 threshold. Oh, masther, have mercy upon us 
 all ! They say you're changed to the poor, and 
 tha we can't look for the same pity now as 
 
Tracy's ambition. ' 265 
 
 before, but 1 would'nt b'lieve the world that 
 you'd lave us m this sthraight. Come and 
 make 'em lay * the father to his poor children, 
 an I'll go down on my two knees to heaven 
 every day I live to pray that you may be 
 left long over your own !" 
 
 The agony of her tones pierced my heart. 
 '* For what has he been arrested ?" I asked. 
 *' Mr. Dalton does not often do these things 
 without reason." 
 
 *' For congailed arms. An' sure the Lord 
 of all, that's looking down on us this day, 
 knows that the child unborn knew more of 
 'em than we did. Without raison ? — Oh, 
 Mr, Thracy, you ought to know that Jem and 
 I always drew a Hne between ourselves an' 
 them people." 
 
 A murmur of assent and pity passed 
 among the workmen. 
 
 * Leave. 
 VOL. II. N 
 
266 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 '' Concealed arms !" I repeated : a doubtful 
 and misty recollection of a former incident 
 arising on my mind, and making my heart 
 thrill with terror, at the insight it seemed to 
 afford into Dal ton's real character. I paused 
 and strove to call the circumstance perfectly 
 to mind before I asked, ^' where the arms 
 had been found V 
 
 ** In under the tatch. Just where you 
 were lying yourself the night Dan Moran was 
 shot on the sheep-walk." 
 
 The sudden suspicion, the alarm, were 
 dreadful. I started in real fear, and bidding 
 the woman hurry after me, I ran across the 
 wheat-garden towards Shauahan's house, while 
 she, following, loaded me with blessings. 
 
 When I arrived, 1 found that they had been 
 expecting me. Dalton professing his unwill- 
 ingness to take a tenant off my land without 
 making me aware of the charge against him. 
 He and Skerrit were conversing together on 
 
thacy's ambition. 267 
 
 the road before the humble tenement of their 
 victim. The latter, with an air of mingled 
 grief, dejection, and indignation, on his gloomy 
 countenance, leaned against the threshold in 
 silence, and stared hardly upon Dalton. A 
 party of the all-formidable Police stood near 
 him, laughing, and enjoying, amid this scene of 
 distress, the delicious consciousness of power. 
 A girl about nine years of age stood crying 
 near her father, and a fine boy apparently about 
 four years younger stood in the door way eating 
 a roasted potatoe and gazing around him 
 with a face of innocent wonder and uncon- 
 sciousness, which was still more touching than 
 the tears and moanings of his sister. At some 
 distance from the scene, a number ot men, 
 women, and children, inhabitants of the 
 adjoining hamlet, stood looking on, huddled 
 together like a flock of terrified sheep. Even 
 the domestic animals seemed to retain some 
 memory of the scenes of strife which usually 
 
 n2 
 
q6S Tracy's AMBiTiopCr 
 
 followed the appearance of those awful pro- 
 tectors of the peace. The pigs kept withui 
 their styes as if aware of the Insurrection 
 Act, and the dogs slunk away, growling se- 
 ditiously, with their tails between their legs. 
 
 Dalton, to gratify a petty malice against 
 this poor man, (the cause of which I had 
 learned from his conversation with the woman 
 already related,) had secreted those arms in 
 the place where they were found, and now was 
 about to found a charge of treason against 
 the innocent man, on this diabolical contrivance. 
 * This was my first thought, but I compelled 
 myself to reject it, as I looked upon the 
 scene. It was too black, too demoniacal a pro- 
 
 * Notwithsanding my respect for Mr. Tracy's veracity-, I 
 felt it my duty, ere I suffered this transaction to appear be- 
 fore the public, to ascertain whether it were without precedent, 
 but my inquiries determined me not to alter the manuscript. I 
 nave been assured that expedients as frightfully devoid of prin- 
 ciple at that abovementioned were put in operation in some 
 instances in the South of Ireland. 
 
Tracy's ambition. ^69 
 
 breeding. I suspended my judgment altogether, 
 until I should have heard the particulars of 
 the case. 
 
 " Where did you find the arms ?" said I 
 to Dal ton. 
 
 He took me into the house and pointed 
 out the very spot into which 1 had seen 
 him thrust his hand on the niglit of my 
 wound ! 
 
 All was now out. My doubts were ended. 
 Dalton was a fiend, and I was his dupe. I 
 felt a warm perspiration creeping over my 
 frame, when the discovery broke upon my 
 understanding, and all its fearful consequences 
 to my own welfare rushed with a^ sv/ift and 
 lucid violence upon my heart. My first 
 iFeeling was that of burning, and almost in- 
 controllable, indignation. Had it been the first 
 time of our meeting, sinner that I was, I 
 would have taken the ruffian by the throat. 
 ' and shaken the demon spirit out of him. 
 
270 TRACY S AMBITION. 
 
 May Heaven forgive me for this guilty language ! 
 It is a long time before the embers of 
 passions dark and long indulged can be ex- 
 tinguished. 
 
 But a cautious, selfish thought sprung up 
 in time sufficient to arrest the open burst of rage. 
 Though Dalton was a villain, I was in his power. 
 He owed me a large sum of money, for which I 
 had but a slight acknowledgment, and he was on 
 the point of procuring for me a lucrative situa- 
 tion. Besides, (this saving possibility suggested 
 itself after my prudential considerations,) besides, 
 it was possible that Dalton might be the vic- 
 tim of appearances, strong indeed, but yet not 
 absolute |*id demonstrative. 
 
 Still my nature remained violently aroused 
 and excited. My feelings must have been vi- 
 vidly depicted on my features, for Dalton, on 
 turning round, after pointing out the recess in 
 which he had found the arms, and looking on 
 my face, started, like a detected thief. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 271 
 
 *^ Dalton," said I, '^ I have the best rea- 
 son in the world to suppose that this unfortu- 
 nate man is innocent of any ill intent what- 
 soever. I am certain he knew nothing of that 
 weapon." 
 
 Dalton, taken by surprise, turned pale as a 
 corpse. ^' If you have good reason to believe 
 that," said he, ^^ it w^ould alter the case." 
 
 '^ I have," I continued, endeavouring to re- 
 press the disgust and anger which I felt, and 
 which made my voice tremble. *^ I have good 
 reason to think that they were secreted in that 
 place, by some enemy of the poor man, for the 
 purpose of ruining him. I am sure of it," I 
 added, fixing my eye upon him, and closing 
 my lips hard. ** There are men in this world, 
 Dalton, passionless, heartless, lawless, selfish and 
 cold-blooded men, who have so little feeling of 
 the pains or pleasures of their fellow creatures ; 
 whose ears are so dull to the cry of anguish and 
 o£ entieaty ; whose eyes are so dim to the sights 
 
272 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 of sorrow and affliction that pass before them ; 
 whose breasts are so hard to the instincts of ge- 
 nerosity and compassion ; that, to save a single 
 hair of their own heads, they would suffer all the 
 interests of humanity to sink in one general ruin. 
 I am almost disgusted with my office. Most 
 miserable land ! Despoiled, degraded, wretched, 
 unhappy people ! Which of your enemies need 
 wish for the possession of absolute power in 
 order to crush and torture you, when all the pur- 
 poses of tyranny can be effected so secretly and 
 so securely ? " 
 
 " 1 can understand the meaning, but not the 
 occasion, of your words,'' said Dalton, who had 
 now perfectly recovered his impenetrability of 
 aspect. '^ This is new language from you, 
 Tracy. Are you thinking of becoming a pa- 
 triot?" 
 
 *' I am calculating within my own mind 
 the number of persons whom I have dragged 
 from their families on circumstances no more 
 
Tracy's ambition, 273 
 
 suspicious than this, and who may have been as 
 jjuiocent as this poor Shanahan. I hear at this 
 moment, the voices of our victims vibrating 
 through the swell of the Atlantic, and asking 
 me, what share had Justice in the motives which 
 led me to destroy their hopes and prospects, and 
 the light comfort of their families for ever ? 
 We were poor, they say, but we had our affec- 
 tions as strong and deeply seated as the wealthy, 
 and you have snatched away from us the conso- 
 lations of our poverty. We were innocent of 
 the crimes for which we suffer a privation of the 
 few earthly enjoyments the Almighty left us ; 
 but believing us guilty, you are only answerable 
 for our wrongs, so far as you acted on selfish 
 and interested motives. For these, it will one 
 day be your fate to tremble, where we shall 
 smile." 
 
 *' You are too scrupulous a politician," said 
 Dalton, with a horrid laugh ; ^^ it is easy to sa- 
 tisfy your doubts on that head. Be assured that 
 
 N 5 
 
274 TllACY^S AMBITION. 
 
 all of that rank at present in the South of Ire-« 
 land are equally guilty, and if your prisoner hap- 
 pened to be innocent of the charge on which 
 you arrested him, he was yet conscious of 
 some similar and equally grievous transgres- 
 sion.*' 
 
 '^ I know," said I, *' that such has been the 
 horrid principle on which our Juries often bring in 
 their verdicts of extirpation, but woe on their 
 hard hearts and unreasoning heads ! that will not 
 justify, to Heaven, the direct perjury and injustice 
 which they commit. The exigencies of the time, 
 they say, call for a less scrupulous observance of 
 facts, where the object is to lessen the number 
 of possible offenders. But conscience and na- 
 ture cry, No ! The makers, and not the execu- 
 tors, of the law must decide how far its rigid 
 dicta may be violated, and they have yet given no 
 discretionary power to our Juries, to condemn for 
 a suspected and unalledged offence, while they 
 acquit on that which is declared. The law may 
 
Tracy's ambition. 275 
 
 decimate, but not the petit juror. I have fur- 
 nished victims to a self-constituted inquisition ! " 
 
 " Well, well ! You can enjoy your opinion. 
 Mine is for decimation, and I avow it. I am 
 a loyal man, and my principle is to uphold the 
 ruling power, at whatever expense. When 
 peace returns, let mercy and humanity return 
 with her, and they shall be w^elcome, but until 
 then, the best mercy of a good subject should 
 be severity.'^ 
 
 *^When you and I, Dalton, are lying on 
 our death beds, I hope the remembrance of our 
 loyalty will shed as svv'eet and quieting an influ- 
 ence upon our souls, as others feel at the recol- 
 lection of mercy indulged, of human suffering 
 alleviated, of days spent in relieving the wants 
 and drying the tears of orphanage and widow- 
 hood, and of nights consumed in allaying the 
 pains and dissipating the anxieties of sickness*^ 
 But I see you are impatient.'^ 
 
 I rose, and taking a wooden cup which l^y 
 
276 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 on the painted table near me, helped myself 
 from a can of spring water. While 1 drank, 
 the fever and tumult of mv thouohts subsided, 
 and the realities of my situation came back 
 with a greater clearness upon my mind. 
 
 Yes, I thought, I will first withdraw myself 
 from his power, and secure a compensation for 
 my losses, and then T will denounce and cast 
 him off. Until then, until 1 am secure from 
 the effects of his resentment, beware, my 
 temper, how you suffer your vulgar prejudices 
 to appear ! 
 
 I listened, meanwhile, to a long dissertation 
 of Dalton's, on the state of the Island, on tlie 
 weakness of my nature, on the gain to be ac- 
 quired by activity ?indjirmness, and other stimu- 
 lating subjects. But his pains were superfluous, 
 for I had already determined to sacrifice my 
 consciousness of right, and enter into a compro- 
 mise with treachery. 
 
 "Let our conversation for the present end 
 
Tracy's ameitigk. 27? 
 
 Viith this, Daltoii," I said, rising, aii:l laying- 
 aside the hay-bottomed chair, ^' liberate Snan- 
 ahan, at once. I am answerable for his 
 loyalty." 
 
 ^^ It is more than enough," said Dalton, 
 with assumed frankness and pleasure. ^' I shall 
 not ask another question about the case." 
 
 We went out, and the magistrate ordered 
 the prisoner to be set at liberty, saying that 
 Mr. Tracy had satisfied him of Shanahan'fj 
 innocence. As he turned to depart, I per- 
 ceived him look on me with one of those smiles 
 which were the rsual indications of wrath and 
 forerunners of ruin to the person on whom 
 they fell. I understood not their meaning then, 
 however, and troubled not my mind about it, 
 
 I was now overwhelmed with a tumult of 
 gratulation and applause from the fiiends of the 
 rescued pri?oner. The people crowded round 
 nie with demonstrations of old esteem and affec- 
 tion revived in an instant. I was their own mas- 
 
S78 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 ter once again. 1 bad a heart after all. They 
 knew all along it was that thief Dalton was 
 leading me astray. Was there any thing now 
 in the wide world, they could do for me ? Let 
 me only speak my mind. 
 
 The poor woman, who saw herself thus 
 suddenly and unexpectedly restored to the en- 
 joyment of her domestic happiness, was still 
 more passionate in the expression of her gra- 
 titude. She embraced her husband and her 
 children, clasped her hands, and wrung them 
 hard, while she looked up to heaven, and then 
 turning to me, with tears in her eyes, *^ May 
 the Lord fasten the life in you ! " said she, 
 *' and may this deed stand before you at the 
 gate of heaven on another day ! you were a 
 great mains^ of bringing comfort to our house 
 again, this mornin'." Here she raised herarms as 
 if impelled to throw them round me, but with 
 
 * This pious distinction, between the first cause and his 
 mortal instrument, is carefully observed by the peasantry. 
 
TRACV'S AMBITION. ^79 
 
 a rapid and modest self-recollection, she sunk 
 to the earth and suffered them to fall round 
 my feet. The husband, perhaps, unwilling to 
 add to the embarrassment which I felt, con- 
 tented himself with drawing his children to 
 his side, and laying his rough hand over the 
 silky ringlets of the youngest boy, who con- 
 tinued to eat his way through the roast pota- 
 toe with an air of philosophic satisfaction and 
 equability. 
 
 As I turned away to depart, a hack 
 carriage, (a vehicle equivalent to the London 
 Glass Coach, but having the owner's name 
 and residence painted on the doors, and a 
 simple cross-stick with a handful of straw 
 substituted for a coach-box) drove rapidly by 
 the hamlet, A yellow, languid face looked 
 out upon me through the window, and was 
 drawn back in an instant. The single en- 
 counter of our eyes, however, had startled me 
 with a sudden and unaccountable feelinsc 
 
S«0 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 of recognition, and the action of the stranger 
 would have led me to suspect that this 
 sensation was mutual at the moment. 1 
 felt, also, an emotion of deep shame and 
 humiliation, which was still more mysterious 
 than our apparently reciprocal mistake of 
 identity. The latter indeed is a frequtnt 
 occurrence in society. But it was its strong 
 and singular effect upon my own mind that 
 prevented my dismissing the circumstance al- 
 together from my memory. 
 
 Rising early the next morning, and 
 walking out to viait the few cultivated por- 
 tions of my farm, 1 found that a change 
 had taken place, in the night, which deserved 
 to be celebrated by the flowery and fap.ciful 
 pen of the renowned Johnson ^ himself. The 
 
 * Not, 1 apprehend, the fat and famous moralist and 
 biogi-apher of tliat name, but a man whose biography is in 
 much greater request among the school -boy readers of the 
 day. — Richard Johnson, author of that admirable piece of 
 history entitled The Sevia Champioas of Christen J j:n. 
 
Tracy's ambition. Q81 
 
 whole face of the farm had been altered. — 
 My potatoes were trenched, as if by magic ; 
 my turf was moulded and cut and footed, 
 my broken down hedges or ditches were 
 repaired, and all done that could be done 
 to repair the evil which neglect and malice 
 had occasioned. On one of the large 
 elms — 
 
 Whose boughs were mossed with age, 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 
 the hand of the midnight enchanter had 
 affixed the following notice, by the unworthy 
 instrumentality of a round stone and a few 
 pavers or hob nails. " This is from them 
 that knows how to reward good behavor as 
 well as to make tyrants feel the smart. You will 
 hear more as you desarve from Lieutenant 
 Skin'em Alive. United office.'' 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Still my Peelers ate on, my bacon vanished, 
 my poiatoe-pits were emptied, my tenants 
 were estranged, my life threatened, Dalton's 
 debt unpaid, my peace lost, my temper 
 broken, my heart consumed with fear and vain 
 expectation. 
 
 1 was doubly unhappy in the indulgence 
 of my premature calculations, as I had been 
 vain enough to assume, in advance, all the 
 
Tracy's ambition. 283 
 
 importance, to which the accomplishment of 
 my wishes might have entitled me. The con- 
 sequence was that my neighbours of my own 
 rank were deeply offended by my arrogance. 
 I knew enough of human nature to be aware 
 that on the first rumour of a disappointment 
 this folly would be well avenged. 1 had, 
 therefore, the apprehension of approaching ruin 
 to terrify me, without the allaying conscious- 
 ness that my fall would be attended with 
 the pity of those who knew me in better 
 days. 
 
 Late voyagers inform us that the dreaded 
 regions of the North, which give birth to 
 those black tempests that fill the rest of the 
 world with confusion, are themselves wrapt 
 in an everlasting stillness and repose. There 
 are human tempers in which this natural 
 phenomenon might find its own analogy. 
 The, '•^ sadness of the countenance" by which 
 the heart of the offender is reproved, and all 
 
284 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 the demonstrations of that iin^-innins; anger 
 "which virtue itself must often use for the 
 preservation of its peace, may be found, in 
 such an one, to originate in a heart that, even 
 amid those indications of displeasure, is still 
 calm, quiet and confiding. 
 
 Such was the unreal anger Nvhicli my 
 repeated unkindness at length drew forth 
 from my unhappy and enduring Mary. 1 had 
 refused her some moderate request to allow 
 some poor protege to fill a cleave, [basket,] 
 of tuif from our rick. — She remonstrated gently 
 on the whole train of conduct which I had 
 pursued since my accquaintance M'ith Daltoi^ 
 commenced. I spoke passionately and roughly. 
 Satisfied with having done what' she considered 
 her duty, she was silent. 
 
 In a few days after, rather with the 
 view of showing me that she retained no ill 
 feeling than with any anxiety to obtain what 
 she asked, she made me a new and some- 
 
TRACY S AMBITION. 285 
 
 what similar request. This I alsv) refused, and 
 with ^unnecessary rudeness. But her affection 
 and her strong sense stood the trial, and she 
 was still as cheerful and even minded as before. 
 Those who know how much one single act of 
 intentional rudeness, one slight hurt in the affec- 
 tion, can do to shake the happiness of a do- 
 mestic circle, will perhaps be astonished at her 
 forbearance. But hers was something higher, 
 better, and more disinterested than an unregu- 
 lated natural aftection. I thought, because she 
 expressed nothing, that she did not feel 
 her loss of influence; but I was soon un- 
 deceived. 
 
 We were sitting together about noon, after 
 having spent the morning in unsocial, and, on 
 my part, churlish silence. Happening to lift 
 my eyes suddenly to her's, I found they had 
 been fixed on me for some time with an eager 
 and deeply expressive meaning. It was one of 
 those looks in which whole volumes of language 
 
286 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 are comprised. Regret, tenderness, pity, gentle 
 upbraiding, and the heart-suffering of kindnesses 
 unappreciated and affection unreturned, were as 
 clearly visible in the single glance as whole hours 
 of complaint and reproaches could have made 
 them. It pierced at once to my heart, and 
 filled me with shame and remorse. Our early 
 happiness — her sacrifice of rank and wealth — 
 her unrepining love — her care — her tenderness, 
 were all present in a moment to my imagination, 
 I saw all she felt, and all my own ingratitude as 
 in a mirror. My first impulse (old as I was) 
 would have led me to throw myself at her feet — 
 but I feared it, and left the room. 
 
 I walked for a short time along the flagged 
 hall, clenching my hand hard, and pressing it 
 against my forehead in a strong feehng of pain 
 and self-reproach, while I muttered repeatedly, 
 — " the gentle — gentle creature ! — What an 
 unmannered ruffian I have been ! " 
 
 Anxious to lose no time in making reparation. 
 
Tracy's ambition. C87 
 
 1 re-entered the apartment, at the window of 
 which she still maintained her musing position. 
 I walked up and down the room, endeavouring to 
 find some mode of breaking the subject. 
 
 ^' Mary," I said at length, '^ you must have 
 observed a great change in me of late." 
 
 The unusual tone of voice in which I spoke 
 startled and made her look on me for a moment 
 with an expression of enquiry and surprise. 
 She even blushed, as if fearful that she had 
 suffered her feeling of that change to become 
 too apparent. 
 
 ^' Why should you think so, Abel ? " said 
 she, ^' what change do you speak of? " 
 
 ^^ Ah, you must have felt that I did not treat 
 you as you deserve. I am sensible myself that 
 my society must have been any thing but a 
 pleasure to you ; but if you knew my distrac- 
 tions and my anxieties, I am sure you would 
 pity me." 
 
 " I have considered them, and do pity you," 
 
288 TRACY S AMBITION. 
 
 she saiii, passionately, reaching me her hand, 
 which I grasped and shook with warmth, while 
 the tears streamed from her eyes. ^* I only 
 wish that you could be made to pity yourself. 
 But what peace can remaia with us while you 
 continue to expose yourself to so many dangers 
 by provoking the anger of these people, or 
 what wealth or distinction can repay us for 
 anxieties like these? " 
 
 '* Come," said I, '' my dear monitor, . the 
 evening is beautiful. We will walk over as far 
 as our friend Clancy's, and talk of our affairs and 
 prospects by the way." 
 
 She rose, with a gaiety of spirits which she 
 had not displayed for a long time, and made 
 herself ready for the promenade. As we were 
 walking down the lawn, we heard Willy's voice 
 calling after me. Looking round, we beheld 
 him galloping over the grass with a pair of 
 pistols in his hands. 
 
Tracy's ambition. 289 
 
 " Won't you take your pistols, sir? you left 
 them after you on the sate in the hall." 
 
 '' Seaty I have often told you, Willy, was 
 the word." 
 
 ^^ Seetj sir. Won't you take 'em ? " 
 
 ** No. There is no occasion. Take them 
 in and don't meddle wdththem. If Phil Fogarty 
 were here, he would tell you that it was un- 
 lucky to call after a person who is setting out 
 on a journey." 
 
 '' Better take 'em so, sir." 
 
 " No, my lad. I'm not superstitious — and 
 if any ill luck should happen, you may be assur- 
 ed that your calling after us shall be no part of 
 
 its cause." 
 
 He ran home, and we continued our jour- 
 ney. A few minutes, spent in frank and mutual 
 interchange of confidence, completely restored 
 our minds to that calm understanding, that per- 
 fect communion of interests and feelings in 
 which the happiness of married life alone con- 
 
 VOL. II. - o 
 
290 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 sists. Mar)' had, early on this morning, (while 
 I was still repairing the exhaustion of the pre- 
 vious night patrol) complied with the ancient 
 duties of her religion, and the peace and serenity 
 which the holy rile inspired were so visible, as 
 almost to supply the place of the vanished 
 bloom and freshness of her youth. I disclosed 
 to her all my plans, prospects, and anxieties, 
 and felt her advice and consolations falling on 
 the fevered and restless pulses of my heart, with 
 a healing and allaying influence. Difficulties 
 which I had considered insurmouiitable were 
 made plain and easy, Hope made to spring and 
 flourish where Despair seemed to have esta- 
 blished her empire ; and perplexities at once ua- 
 raveiled by the first slight efforts of an upright 
 and disembarrassed mind, which I thought it 
 would be impossible ever to disentangle. 
 
 " Well ! it is now at an end, and I hope for 
 ever," said Mary ; ** but I will confess to you 
 that I have had, during the la3t few months, 
 
Tracy's ambition. 391 
 
 moments of dreadful apprehension. 1 had heard 
 much of the misery of old age, in the married 
 life of those who entered on that season without 
 the necessary concordance of mind and temper, 
 and my heart sunk within me, when in faithless 
 and selfish moments, I thought it just possible 
 that such a lot might be our own. They were 
 but the doubts of a moment, for I knew you 
 too well to think that any harshness, the effect 
 of passing circumstances, could become habitual. 
 But all is now past, and my breast feels as light 
 as if a dreary and stifling nightmare had sud- 
 denly left it. I am now happy. My fears, my 
 griefs have fled, more swiftly than the wind, be- 
 fore the few kind words you have spoken. 
 My heart is free, my mind is at ease. I am 
 now happy. The dream of the young wife may 
 now be realized — a cheerful house — afl'ectionate 
 and grateful children, the unfading and minute 
 attention of the same heart that ministered to 
 my own the happiness of its youth ; all may 
 
 o 2 
 
2.02 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 now be accomplished — 1 have every thing to 
 hope — and nothing to regret. Abel/' she con- 
 tinued, after a sudden pause *^I have one request 
 to make, that I have been longing to mention to 
 vou for some time. Somethins; tells ine that vou 
 will see my brother Ulick before long. I have 
 left a small parcel directed for an old friend, in 
 a drawer of the low-boy. If I should die before 
 you, remember to deliver it safe on the first op- 
 portunity you may obtain." 
 
 I promised, and we continued our walk in 
 silence. 
 
 We had now entered a narrow path, leading 
 through a low, level field, which was covered 
 with a species of tall reed, reachhig high above 
 our heads. We stood a moment on the earthen 
 stile leading into this plain, to observe the effect 
 of the declining sunlight on the undulating sur- 
 face of the reed. 
 
 On a sudden, my eye was attracted by a 
 singular motion in the tops of the reeds, as if 
 
TRACY^S AMBITION. '293 
 
 several living animals were traversing the iield 
 among their stems in the direction of our path. 
 While I fixed mv eves on this circumstance, a 
 loud scream broke from my wife anJ an exclama- 
 tion of 
 
 " Fly ! Abel ! Abel ! fly ! or we are mur- 
 dered ! " 
 
 "Stand! HjM fast! Halt!" was pro- 
 nounced by several voices as a number of men 
 dressed in coats of mud coloured frieze, and va- 
 riously armed, started up from the screen of the 
 close reeds, and stood like sudden spectres 
 upon our path. 
 
 '■'■ I am lost." I muttered. " Mary, keep 
 close to me, my love." I gathered her, half- 
 faiijting, to my arms. ** Well, friends," f 
 asked with an ill-feigned composure, '^ what is 
 your will with us ? " 
 
 " Put the la ly from you," said the fore- 
 most, *' and go down upon your knees." 
 
 " Mary," said I, *' they do not want to 
 
294 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 burt you. Leave me, my own saint, leave 
 me to appease them ; go aside, and pray 
 for me. I know they will not injure you." 
 
 '^ You're betther hear to what he says 
 Ma'am," said one of the ruffians, *' we wish 
 you no evil. Go o' one side, and pray for 
 him, as he bids you, for your prayer is worth 
 more than his, either to man or heaven." 
 
 ** Go," I repeated, pressing her hand and 
 kissing it; ''think of our children and leave 
 me. Kiss them all for me — Go. My poor 
 daughter ! Oh, you will curse me, if you 
 know the form, when you learn all. But leave 
 me. It is my only chance." 
 
 *' I will never stir from this spot without 
 you," she replied with firmness, '' and if they 
 are murderers, they may wreak their hate on 
 both." 
 
 One of the men stepped forward, as if for 
 the purpose of forcing her away. 
 
 '' Stand back ! " I exclaimed, with a stem- 
 
Tracy's ambition. 295 
 
 ness which made him start and grasp a rusty 
 bayonet, that was stuck into a hay rope which 
 bound his waist. '* vStand back, if you are a 
 man, lay not your hand up >u her ! " My voice 
 grew fainter and my knees weak and trem- 
 bling. "■ She is your friend, your constant, un- 
 changing friend. Her voice was always uplifted 
 for you ; you are base ingrates, if you touch 
 her ; base, thankless, worthless, ingrates," I con- 
 tinued, the sudden and tumultuous vaccilation of 
 my spirits hurrying me into a degree of pas- 
 sionate invective beyond what the occasion re- 
 required. '* If you lay a finger on her, yoii are 
 dogs, tigers, hounds of Satan, rutRans without 
 the capability either of revenge or of grati- 
 tude, undistinguishing cut-throats, motiveless, 
 blood-thirsty slaves, and no Irishmen." 
 
 '* Poh, what rhamaush it is ! " exclaimed 
 the foremost, " sure we toult you we mane 
 her no hurt. Stand o* one side ma*am, a' you 
 plase." 
 
296 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 '* 1 mistook you, then," said [,' gently, again^ 
 relapsing into weakness, while my eyes were 
 almost blinded by the perspiration that flowed 
 into and about them. " If your intentions are 
 good, let us go our way in peace, and peace 
 and comfort lie on yours. Good night, good 
 fellows. If I have wronged you by any un- 
 just suspicion, 1 am sorry for it, very sorry, 
 and will be ready to make you better amends 
 when I see you at Cushlane-Beg."^ 
 
 '* An' that's just the very place where you 
 never '11 see us nor any body else in this world 
 any more," said the former speaker. '* Better 
 amends ! The stone jug, may be, or a \Valk 
 up Ladder-lane, or a hempen cravat. Or a 
 seven year's voyage out over the salt ocean. 
 Good fellovvL ! says he. Oh, you double- 
 tongued and shameless decaver ! F know the 
 name that you have for us in your heart, the 
 name that Dalton taught you, an' that you 
 larned from him ready enough. Pace be on 
 
TRACY S AMBITION. ' *2iJ7 
 
 our ways ! That's the wish you wished us t 
 Neither pace, nor plenty, nor quietness, nor 
 comfort, was in our ways or houses, since you 
 an' the likes of you came amongst us. Come ! 
 ma'am, let go your hoult ! " he added in a tre- 
 mendous voice. 
 
 " What then do yo\i iwtend foime ?" I asked 
 in strong fear. 
 
 *' The same fate^" said he, with eyes in- 
 flamed with heat, and brows knit hard above 
 them, ^^ the fate that poor young Shanahan met 
 from you.'' 
 
 *^ I never harmed a hair of Shanahan's head. 
 Do you take me thus suddenly for a crime which 
 I never shared in ?" 
 
 " You shall have the time," he said, sternly, 
 ** which you gave Shanahan." 
 
 Here a tall, huge-limbed, and flat-nosed 
 mauj armed with a heavy oak stick, and with h » 
 face and hair bathed in perspiration, sprung 
 from the reeds, and swearing an oath at the 
 
 o 5 
 
298 Tracy's ambhtonv 
 
 last speaker, rushed fiercely on us. Using a 
 strong effort, I put Mary aside, and confronted 
 the ruffian's blow, which was broken upon my 
 arm. Mary, in the next instant, sprung to his 
 neck, and exerted all her feeble strength to 
 drag him back. I saw the former speaker up- 
 Kft his rusty bayonet, and was about to plunge 
 forward and arrest its descent, when a hard and 
 ringing blow upon my own head seemed to 
 have set my brain on fire. My eyes flashed, 
 my ears jingled, the whole scene vanished from 
 my sight, and my senses became inert and 
 lifeless. 
 
 I woke, as from a dreamless slumber, when 
 
 the sun had just gone down, with a sense of 
 stiffness and pain, which were almost insuppor- 
 table. I lay among the tall reeds, on my back, 
 and heard the lowing of some cattle, N\ho, at- 
 tracted by the scent of blood, came snuffing in- 
 quisitively about the scene of violence. It 
 was not without an effort that I called ta 
 
TRACY S AMBITION. 299 
 
 Blind the occasion of the position in which 
 I lav. 
 
 " They have murdeied her," was my 
 
 first surmise *' or I should not have lain 
 
 here until now." 
 
 The sound of several voices (among which 
 I recognized those of Mc Gawyl, the impetuous 
 
 landlord of A , of Doody, Clancy, and 
 
 Dalton,) soon after broke upon my ear. I 
 closed my eyes and lay still, expecting to learn 
 the issue of our misfortune from their conver- 
 sation. 
 
 *' Where can they have conveyed him?" 
 asked one, '' can he have been spirited away 1 " 
 
 ** Flung among the reeds somewhere, I'll 
 
 go bail," replied Mc Gawyl. '^'Tisonlyin 
 
 harvest, when the corn and the hay will be 
 cutting, that we'll find out how. many people 
 are murther'd, these times." 
 
 '* Where did you leave her ?" asked 
 Dalton, *' did you carry her to their own house? " 
 
300 TRACY*S AMBITION. 
 
 Her. —Who ? — I listened with a beating 
 heart. 
 
 . '* We vvor goin' there with her, sir," 
 was the reply, but we met young Mr. Clancy, 
 over near the church in the fields. — " 
 
 " That church !" I echoed to myself; "the 
 curse is coming down." 
 
 ''And he bid us take her over to old 
 Moran*s 'till he'd go and prepare the family 
 about it. But there's neither tale nor tidings 
 of the masther yet." 
 
 I held my breath to hear more, but it 
 was not spoken. '' She lives," I thought, 
 ** she has then escaped !" 
 
 *' It was shocking ! It was a dreadful 
 miirder !" said my poor, good friend, Clancy. 
 
 "And of a woman, too! so unmanly!" 
 said another of the party. 
 
 I sunk back and groaned aloud. — In a 
 moment after I was discovered, and conveyed 
 amid many vain demonstrations of con violence, 
 
TFACY S AMBITION. 301 
 
 to the house were the corpse of my v^it"e 
 was laid. 
 
 My heart beat with a fierce and vengeful 
 de^isht when Dalton informed me that he had 
 a man in custody for the deed. 
 
 " Let me see him ! I shall know him 
 among ten thousand !" I exclaimed, raising 
 my person up from the bed with a strength 
 which was before unknown to me. 
 
 They brought him in, and my breast sick- 
 ened with disappointment. It was Moran, the 
 poor man, whose potatoes I had sold a short 
 time before under such circumstances of hard- 
 ship. Innocent as he was, the suspicious 
 nature of the circumstances against him ami 
 the mode of administering justice ^hich was 
 usual at the time, oppressed the poor 
 oM man with a thousand fears. Any commoa 
 observer would, from his manner, alone, liave 
 pronounced him guilty. 
 
 "Take him away 1" said I, " my heart 
 
302 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 is burthened at the sight of him. He i« 
 innocent. Old man, forgive me, from your 
 heart, the wrong that I did you. I will repair 
 it if I live." 
 
 The virtuous and honest creature flung 
 himself on his knees at the bed-side, and 
 loaded me with blessings. 
 
 '' What wrong could I charge again' your 
 honour," said he, " if I was'nt light at the 
 time ? Was'nt it all your own, an' sure now 
 I see that it was'nt without wanting it you 
 took 'em from me. But a hungry man will 
 say a dale that he does'nt mane." 
 
 I did not yet see my dead wife. But 
 late at night, when -the house was quiet, and 
 1 heard only the breathing of the visitors who 
 slept on the sugan chairs around the spacious 
 fire place and the occasional fall and crack- 
 ling of the embers, 1 rose, wrapped the blue 
 woollen quilt about my shoulders, and taking 
 the small candle in my hand, went softly into 
 
TRACY 6 AMBITIO?}. 30.1 
 
 the room ^^hele they had laid her. I closed 
 the door, and walked towards the bedside. It 
 was hung with white, and decorated with 
 wreaLhs of primrose and damask roses. Two 
 large mould candles burned at the foot of the 
 bed, and as many on each side. The poor 
 old woman, who had undertaken to watch by 
 the corpse, overpowered wiih fatigue, had 
 fallen asleep on her knees near a window, 
 while her large horn rosary hung over the back 
 of a chair. 
 
 All the signs of violence had been removed 
 from the face of the corpse, I went on, pe- 
 rusing the details of the scene, my breast filled 
 almost to bursting with a thousand strange and 
 undistinguishable sensations,^ among which re- 
 morse, doubt and wonder were the principal. 
 The face was calm, white, and even, I thought, 
 half smiling. Encouraged by the sweetness of 
 its expression, which made the blankness of 
 death less terrible, I stooped over it to bestow 
 
304 Tracy's AMBiTioNr 
 
 a parting kiss on the forehead. But as 1 held 
 the candle forward, the expression altered. The 
 lips, I now saw, weie chipped and dragged 
 downward at the corners with a hideous look 
 of pain and scorn. I started from the fright- 
 ful rebuke of the dead, and hurried out <if 
 the chamber like one who fears some super- 
 natural encounter* 
 
CHAPTER Xr. 
 
 Months rolled away. My health was quite 
 restored. Rowan Clancy had again become 
 a constant visitor of Ellen's, and pressed me to 
 name the day of their union, I could not do 
 so, for Dalton had not yet replaced the dowry 
 of my child within my hands. I bore with him, 
 for there was a situation of high emolument 
 and influence about to become vacant in our 
 county, and Dalton promised me his interest in 
 
306 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 the procuring of it. His interest was believed to 
 be ^' all in all sufficient/' and I did not wish 
 to endanger my prospects for a comparative 
 trifle. 
 
 I was seated one morning in my room, and 
 looking out with a gaze of mournful recollec- 
 tion upon that fielJ on which my first encounter 
 with the peasantry had taken place. The con- 
 sequences of that unhappy night all hurried 
 through my memory, and the scene acquired 
 a deep and afffxting interest. It was now gay 
 with sunshine, and fresh with the verdure of the 
 season. The lark soared and sang, the winds 
 blew soft, the clouds moved slowly overhead, 
 the whole face of Nature was animated by an 
 easy and cheerful life, that stirred in every fea- 
 ture 
 
 In this situation I was surprized by a visit 
 from old Clancy, who entered, holding an open 
 newspaper in his hand. 
 
 " Well, what think you, now," said he, " of 
 
'* 
 
 TRACY S AMBITION. 307 
 
 this post that Dalton has promised to procure 
 you?" 
 
 My ambition was all alive and active in an 
 instant. 
 
 '* I think/' said I, *■'■ there is some recom- 
 pense due to me, now : I have made some sa- 
 crifices for the state." And I smiled diastlilv. 
 
 Clancy took a chair, drew out his pocket 
 handkerchief, and blew his nose with a deliber- 
 ation which foreboded some important com- 
 munication. 
 
 '' The holder of it, an old man, was murdered 
 a fortnight since," said he ^^ has any body told 
 you?" 
 
 " Not one. More helpless blood ! What 
 a base and cowardly crew, my friend, are those 
 who undertake to redress the oppressions of the 
 people ! Who are the tyrants that they de- 
 stroy ? the oppressors they remove ? the old, 
 the gentle, the timid, the infirm. The Dal tons 
 and Skerrits, the daring and fearless scourges 
 
508 TIIAC\ S AMBITION. 
 
 of the people may ride in safety through the 
 land, but their helpless grandsires, or un- 
 offending wives forgive me, my friend, I am 
 
 troublesome to you." 
 
 " Did not Dalton make you aware of it ? " 
 
 " I take it much unkindly that Dalton has 
 never once visited me since the beginning of 
 the month." 
 
 " Well, of all men in the world," said 
 Clancy, or of all things in the world ; and sure 
 'tis full of queer men and queer things enough ; 
 but I say of all men, or all things in this world 
 the last thing that I'd suspect is that Dalton 
 could ever think of doing any thing unhandsome 
 by you.*' 
 
 *^ Poh, neither do I. 1 suppose he was ad- 
 vancing my interest in other quarters, but he 
 might have found a moment to see me. Ah, 
 my dear friend Clancy, betv>een you and me, 
 that man has brought many a heavy hour upon 
 my heart. lie meant all well, 1 know, and 
 
TRACY S AMBITION. 309 
 
 therefore it is not easy for me to entertain ill 
 feeling against him, but oh, I have suffered 
 deeply, deeply to his acquaintance ! xMi, Clancy, 
 he never can make amends for what has been 
 done. He will put me in possession of wealth 
 and influence, but what is that? It will indeed 
 enable nie to make my children happy, to en- 
 lai"ge my poor daugliter's dowry, and relieve 
 your noble Rowan of some embarrassments 
 that might otherwise encumber him. But for 
 
 myself there is little positive enjoyment remain- 
 ing in the world." 
 
 Clancy remained for a moment leaning for- 
 ward in his chair and gently striking with the 
 end of his cane a creeraun [small piece] of turf 
 which lay on the floor. 
 
 " Are you sure," said he, " that Dalton gave 
 you distinctly to understand that he was soliciting 
 this office for you, and not himself?*' 
 
 *^ Himself !" I exclaimed, pausing in a 
 stupor of amazement, and endeavouring to ac- 
 
310 Tracy's amkition. 
 
 count for this strange question by some circum- 
 stance in the manner of my visitor ? " What, my 
 good friend, can be your opinion of my common 
 sense, when you ask such a question as that? Do 
 you suppose that I would have sacrificed my time, 
 my property, my health, my comfort, every thing 
 that I possessed to forward the interest of Dalton, 
 on a vague and uncertain prospect of advantage 
 to my own family ? Would 1 have givenup the 
 enjoyment of a self-approving heart ? Look hither, 
 -Clancy. In wealth or in poverty, my fate is 
 fixed for the future. I have become one of the 
 scourges and oppressors of my countrymen. 
 Other, and distant tyrants may say they saw not 
 the evil which they made, they struck blindly and 
 in the dark, they knew not. what they did. But I 
 had full knowledge of all the woe that I inflicted. 
 The groans of the oppressed w^ere in my ears, the 
 sight of their misery was before my eyes, the 
 wronged, the houseless, the naked, the starving, 
 the unprotected and defenceless were passing con- 
 
Tracy's ambition. 311 
 
 tiuually before and around me, but I shut the 
 doors of my belter nature against them, and sacri- 
 iiced every thing to my own sellish views. I 
 have seen fathers torn from their families, inno- 
 cent hearths made desolate, the judgments of the 
 law inflicted on the unoffending, and punishments, 
 appointed only for extremity, used as preventives ; 
 and I said not a word nor made an effort to 
 arrest the evil, lest my own interests should 
 suffer. I put a curb upon my heart and resolved 
 to hack and hew^ my way to office through the 
 oppressions of my fellow beings. The corrup- 
 tion of grand juries, their shameless, unblushing, 
 open-eyed plunder of the poor, their mean and 
 despicable jobbing, their low and cowardly and 
 sharper- like cross-play into each others hands, 
 the oppression of all, from the legislature which 
 frames a law, to the vilest constable who puts its 
 provisions in effect against the people, all have 
 shocked my observation, and yet have stirred no 
 availing sympathy within my heart. I fixed the 
 
fJl2 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 eye of my ambition upon this single object, 
 and have suffered, sacrificed, and sinned more 
 deeply to obtain it than those perhaps have done 
 who strove for the dominion of the world. It is 
 not the greatness of the thing desired, but the 
 inordinacy of the desire itself that makes the in- 
 terval between the first impulse of ambition and 
 its accomplishment or failure, one hideous dream 
 of agony, fear, meanness, guilt, suspicion and 
 impatience. There has been more human hap- 
 piness sacrificed to procure me this office which 
 J expect, that I could ever restore in a situation 
 of far more extensive influence." 
 
 The good man lifted his hands with an ex- 
 pression of pity and terror. 
 
 ''And what,'' said he ''if you had made all 
 those sacrifices in vain ?" 
 
 " In vain ?" 
 
 " Yes, in vain." 
 
 '' I already intimated to you, that I had 
 some security for my hopes." 
 
Tracy's ambition. 313 
 
 " And what was that ? — Dalton's honesty, 
 perhaps ?" 
 
 " No^ something more certain." 
 
 "What?*' 
 
 " His cowardice. Dalton knows me. He 
 has had frequent experience how much I can 
 dare, when my soul is roused. He knows 
 that I would put no consequence whatever in 
 the balance when I meditated a fearful ven- 
 geance. He knows that 1 would as soon take 
 him by the throat and strangle him in the 
 public day-light street, if he wronged me in 
 this, as I would strike a cur out of my way. 
 There is not a man on earth that knows me 
 who would venture on so mad a trick." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that you should ever 
 dream of such revenge, and forgive you for 
 
 this shocking language ! You are greatly al- 
 tered, Abel." 
 "So I am." 
 
 VOL. II. ' P 
 
314 TRACY S AMBITION. 
 
 ** But what would be your course sup- 
 posing that you were disappointed after 
 all ?" 
 
 *^ I don't know. Go mad, and hang my- 
 self I suppose." 
 '' Heaven forbid !" 
 
 ** Heaven, I fear, would do nothing in the 
 case. I could not even hope for that aid for 
 which I have ceased to pray or even to 
 wish." 
 
 '* Yet the Ahnighty hand is not always 
 closed to those who do not ask. You did 
 not solicit the blessing of your creation and 
 of your immortality.'' 
 
 ^' Aye, but neither had I then made my- 
 self unworthy of the benefit." 
 
 *' If the worthy alone were to be made 
 the objects of divine bounty, how very seldom 
 would it descend upon this bad world ! You 
 can lose nothing by hoping, even to the last." 
 
 *■'' Well, I pray you, friend Clancy, let 
 
Tracy's ambition. 315 
 
 me hope in silence. What is the end of all 
 this?" 
 
 ** You may have been mistaken in Dal- 
 ton." 
 
 '^ Speak out, man!" I exclaimed, bursting 
 into a fit of loud anger, which I was no 
 longer able to controul. — '^ Speak out at once, 
 and let me hear this secret, whatever it is, 
 which is now oppressing you. What has he 
 done ? What am I yet to learn ? x\m I to 
 be hanged, or transported, or burned at 
 a stake, or what ? Tell me your news at 
 once.'' 
 
 *^ 1 will, I will, friend, if you'll allow me 
 to open my mouth. Dalton himself is ap- 
 pointed to that office which he promised to 
 you. There it is for you in print, on the 
 second column, under the Dublin head. They 
 mention, too, his having arrived yesterday at 
 the Hibernia Hotel, in Waterford." 
 
 His words, as he uttered them, seemed to 
 p 2 
 
5X6 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 transform me into stone. The muscles of my 
 face relaxed, my limbs stiffened, my breast 
 tightened aUnost to a sense of suffocation, 
 and for a long time, I remained gaping on 
 the speaker,, attempting to repeat the sub- 
 stance of his intelligence aloud, but only 
 moving my jaws with a vain effort like 
 one who strives to speak in a terrified 
 slumber. 
 
 Clancy appeared alarmed by the strong 
 effect which he saw my disappointment pro- 
 duce. While he went on, endeavouring to 
 find some motive for fortitude in my situation, 
 all its circumstances rushed powerfully and 
 clearly upon my mind, now somewhat recov- 
 ered from the stunning and stupifying influence 
 ©f its first shock : — 
 
 ** My daughter !'* I exclaimed, in a low, 
 thick whisper, unconscious of a listener, ** my 
 poor, lost daughter !" 
 
 '* If you suppose that any change of fortune 
 
Tracy's ambition. 317 
 
 can alter our wishes with respect to Ellen," said 
 tJie generous Clancy, ^^ you neither know Rowan 
 nor me." But I heard, or heeded him not, then. 
 It was long afterwards I remembered that he 
 had said so» 
 
 ^' My miserable children ! '^ 
 " They shall live with me until you are more 
 at ease.'' 
 
 " My murdered Mary ! " 
 *' Be comforted, Tracy. She has escapea 
 the sight of your sorrows, and is happy. Her 
 prayers will restore your peace and happiness 
 before long." 
 
 ''Oh, my burthened soul! my lost peace! 
 my wretched, ruined friends ! What, had he 
 no feeling ? He saw as plainly as I did, the 
 misery that overhung our threshold, — a threshold 
 that care never entered, until he pointed the 
 way. Has he no gratitude? The black villain! 
 He shared the hospitalities of our hearth and 
 
 board night after night, day after day ; we denied 
 
 p 3 
 
SIS Tracy's ambition, 
 
 him nothing that was ours to give, he enjoyed 
 with us the confidence of a brother ; — the black 
 villain ! I knew him to be a selfish and vin- 
 dictive wretch, but I could not think that he 
 would sacrifice a whole family to a transitory 
 convenience ; that he would seem to be our 
 friend, and destroy us without motive or pro- 
 vocation. Had he no fear? Fear! He shall 
 have, if he has not yet. He shall have cause 
 for fear." 
 
 Clancy's horse, which he had fastened at 
 the hall door, here gave an impatient neigh, as 
 if weary of the long conference in which his 
 master was indulging. 
 
 *' Clancy," said I hastily, ^Mend me your 
 horse." 
 
 '' For what purpose ? " 
 
 *^ No matter, will you oblige me ? " 
 
 " Certainly, he is at your service, but you 
 must not leave me in ignorance of your move- 
 ments^" 
 
Tracy's ambition. 319 
 
 "I am going to find Dalton, and ask him 
 for a sum of money which he owes me." 
 
 ''Not in your present mood. You must 
 not go now." He caught my arm. 
 
 '' Stand back, old man, or I will strike you 
 down and trample on you ! Am I a child, a 
 fool, or a pet lap dog, that I cannot act upon 
 my own will ? Forgive me, good Clancy, 
 but my temper is grown quite infirm and 
 feeble, and you should not cross it. I am 
 going to dun a bad debtor, that is all." 
 
 ''If I could think so—" 
 
 "Now, in the sight of our Creator, friend, 
 I declare to you I have no worse intent. I 
 may, perhaps, unburthen to him the bitterness 
 of my broken heart. I may, perhaps, ask him 
 why he sought me out in my happy and un- 
 tempted solitude, to ruin me for this world, and 
 put me in peril for the next ; I may show him 
 the evil he has done, and expose to him the 
 agony to which he has given birth, but I have 
 
320 Tracy's ambition. 
 
 no purpose of laying a violent hand upon him; 
 I may speak daggers to this domestic traitor, but 
 I will use none." 
 
 ** How can you answer for what the sud- 
 den temptation may bring to pass ? Remem- 
 ber the intemperate menace which you flung 
 out even before you thought that it was 
 possible Dalton could have acted as he has 
 done." 
 
 '* I find it is the same in anger as in 
 grief. Injuries as well as misfortunes which in 
 prospect would appear to be wholly insup- 
 portable, become light and easy on experience, 
 and fail to produce the extremity of excitement 
 which we apprehended. I am calmer, much 
 calmer now, than I thought it possible I could 
 have been under such a provocation. I am 
 not a liar, nor a hypocrite. If I wished 
 to go with a bad intent, you could not hinder 
 me." 
 
 " It is enough,'* said Clancy, tossing his 
 
TRACY S AMBITION. 321 
 
 head back, as if giving up the contest, '* 1 can 
 do no more. Heaven, I hope, will restrain 
 you, for I do not think it is. in the power of 
 man to do so." 
 
 Let it not be supposed from what followed 
 that I was really so mean as intentionally to de- 
 ceive the good old man. I did, then, believe 
 as I said, that my resentment was moderate, 
 and that I held the reins of my temper firmly 
 in my grasp, but the hour of passion is not the 
 most favourable for self-examination. The 
 storm was gathering its strength, and I mistook 
 it for a calm. 
 
 END OF VOL. II. 
 
 B. EEXSLI.y, PRINTER, ANDOVEH 
 
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