The Poacher; Or, Joseph Rushbrook. Фредерик Марриет

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      “The colonel’s to come, you spalpeen,” said the Squireen.

      “And the fortune to make, I expect,” replied Patrick.

      “You’ve just hit it but haven’t you the whole world before you to pick and choose?”

      “Well,” replied Patrick, after a pause; “I’ve no objection.”

      “No objection! Why don’t you jump out of your skin with delight? At all events, you might jump high enough to break in the caling.”

      “There’s no ceiling to break,” replied Patrick, looking up at the rafters.

      “That’s true enough; but still you might go out of your seven senses in a rational sort of a way.”

      “I really can’t see for why, father dear. You tell me I’m to leave my poor old mother, who doats upon me; my sisters, who are fond of me; my friends here,” patting the dogs, “who follow me; the hills, that I love; and the woodcocks, which I shoot; to go to be shot at myself, and buried like a dead dog, without being skinned, on the field of battle.”

      “I tell you to go forth into the world as an officer, and make your fortune; to come back a general, and be the greatest man of your family. And don’t be too unhappy about not being skinned. Before you are older or wiser, dead or alive, you’ll be skinned, I’ll answer for it.”

      “Well, father, I’ll go; but I expect there’ll be a good deal of ground to march over before I’m a general.”

      “And you’ve a good pair of legs.”

      “So I’m told every day of my life. I’ll make the best use of them when I start; but it’s the starting I don’t like, and that’s the real truth.”

      The reader may be surprised at the indifference shown by Patrick at the intelligence communicated by his father; but the fact was, Mr Patrick O’Donahue was very deep in love. This cooled his national ardour; and it must be confessed that there was every excuse, for a more lovely creature than Judith McCrae never existed. To part with her was the only difficulty, and all his family feelings were but a cloak to the real cause of his unwillingness.

      “Nevertheless, you must start to-morrow, my boy,” said his father.

      “What must be, must,” replied Patrick, “so there’s an end of the matter. I’ll just go out for a bit of a walk, just to stretch my legs.”

      “They require a deal of stretching, Pat, considering you’ve been twenty miles, at least, this morning, over the mountains,” replied the Squireen. But Patrick was out of hearing; he had leapt over a stone wall which separated his father’s potato ground from Cornelius McCrae’s, and had hastened to Judith, whom he found very busy getting the dinner ready.

      “Judith, my dear,” said Patrick, “my heart’s quite broke with the bad news I have to tell you. Sure I’m going to leave you to-morrow morning.”

      “Now, Patrick, you’re joking, surely.”

      “Devil a joke in it. I’m an ensign in a regiment.”

      “Then I’ll die, Patrick.”

      “More like that I will, Judith; what with grief and a bullet to help it, perhaps.”

      “Now, what d’ye mean to do, Patrick?”

      “Mean to go, sure; because I can’t help myself; and to come back again, if ever I’ve the luck of it. My heart’s leaping out of my mouth entirely.”

      “And mine’s dead,” replied Judith, in tears.

      “It’s no use crying, mavourneen. I’ll be back to dance at my own wedding, if so be I can.”

      “There’ll be neither wedding for you, Patrick, nor wake either, for you’ll lie on the cold ground, and be ploughed in like muck.”

      “That’s but cold comfort from you, Judith, but we’ll hope for a better ending; but I must go back now, and you’ll meet me this evening beyond the shealing.”

      “Won’t it be for the last time, Patrick,” replied Judith, with her apron up to her eyes.

      “If I’ve any voice in the matter, I say no. Please the pigs, I’ll come back a colonel.”

      “Then you’ll be no match for Judith McCrae,” replied the sobbing girl.

      “Shoot easy, my Judith, that’s touching my honour; if I’m a general it will be all the same.”

      “Oh, Patrick! Patrick!”

      Patrick folded Judith in his arms, took one kiss, and then hastened out of the house, saying—“Remember the shealing, Judith, dear, there we’ll talk the matter over easy and comfortable.”

      Patrick returned to his house, where he found his mother and sisters in tears. They had received orders to prepare his wardrobe, which, by the bye, did not give them much trouble from its extent; they only had to mend every individual article. His father was sitting down by the hearth, and when he saw Patrick he said to him,—“Now just come here, my boy, and take a stool, while you listen to me and learn a little worldly wisdom, for I may not have much time to talk to you when we are at Dublin.”

      Patrick took a seat, and was all attention.

      “You’ll just observe, Pat, that it’s a very fine thing to be an officer in the king’s army; nobody dares to treat you ill, although you may ill-treat others, which is no small advantage in this world.”

      “There’s truth in that,” replied Patrick.

      “You see, when you get into an enemy’s country, you may help yourself; and, if you look sharp, there’s very pretty pickings—all in a quiet way, you understand.”

      “That, indeed.”

      “You observe, Pat, that, as one of his officers, the king expects you to appear and live like a gentleman, only he forgets to give you the means of so doing; you must, therefore, take all you can get from his Majesty, and other people must make up the difference.”

      “That’s a matter o’ course,” said Patrick.

      “You’ll soon see your way clear, and find out what you may be permitted to do, and what you may not; for the king expects you to keep up the character of a gentleman as well as the appearance.”

      “O’ course.”

      “Mayhap you may be obliged to run in debt a little—a gentleman may do that; mayhap you may not be able to pay—that’s a gentleman’s case very often: if so, never go so far as twenty pounds; first, because the law don’t reach; and secondly, because twenty pound is quite enough to make a man suffer for the good of his country.”

      “There’s sense in that, father.”

      “And, Patrick, recollect that people judge by appearances in this world, especially when they’ve nothing else to go by. If you talk small, your credit will be small; but if you talk large, it will be just in proportion.”

      “I perceive, father.”

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