The Emigrants Of Ahadarra. William Carleton

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СКАЧАТЬ matters, Hycy; but, as you like plain speaking, I tell you candidly that I'll lend you no money.”

      Hycy's manner changed all at once; he looked at M'Mahon for nearly a minute, and said in quite a different tone—

      “What is the cause of this coldness, Bryan? Have I offended you?”

      “Not knowingly—but you have offended me; an' that's all I'll say about it.”

      “I'm not aware of it,” replied the other—“my word and honor I'm not.”

      Bryan felt himself in a position of peculiar difficulty; he could not openly quarrel with Hycy, unless he made up his mind to disclose the grounds of the dispute, which, as matters then stood between him and Kathleen Cavanagh, to whom he had not actually declared his affection, would have been an act of great presumption on his part.

      “Good-bye, Hycy,” said he; “I have tould you my mind, and now I've done with it.”

      “With all my heart!” said the other—“that's a matter of taste on your part. You're offended, you say; yet you choose to put the offence in your pocket. It's all right, I suppose—but you know best. Good-bye to you, at all events,” he added; “be a good boy and take care of yourself.”

      M'Mahon nodded with good-humored contempt in return, but spoke not.

      “By all that deserves an oath,” exclaimed Hycy, looking bitterly after him, “if I should live to the day of judgment I'll never forgive you your insulting conduct this day—and that I'll soon make you feel to your cost!”

      This misunderstanding between the two friends caused Hycy to feel much mortification and disappointment. After leaving M'Mahon, he went through the market evidently with some particular purpose in view, if one could judge from his manner. He first proceeded to the turf-market, and looked with searching eye among those who stood waiting to dispose of their loads. From this locality he turned his steps successively to other parts of the town, still looking keenly about him as he went along. At length he seemed disappointed or indifferent, it was difficult to say which, and stood coiling the lash of his whip in the dust, sometimes quite unconsciously, and sometimes as if a wager depended on the success with which he did it—when, on looking down the street, he observed a little broad, squat man, with a fiery red head, a face almost scaly with freckles, wide projecting cheek-bones, and a nose so thoroughly of the saddle species, that a rule laid across the base of it, immediately between the eyes, would lie close to the whole front of his face. In addition to these personal accomplishments, he had a pair of strong bow legs, terminating in two broad, flat feet, in complete keeping with his whole figure, which, though not remarkable for symmetry, was nevertheless indicative of great and extraordinary strength. He wore neither stockings nor cravat of any kind, but had a pair of strong clouted brogues upon his feet; thus disclosing to the spectator two legs and a breast that were covered over with a fell of red close hair that might have been long and strong enough for a badger. He carried in his hand a short whip, resembling a carrot in shape, and evidently of such a description as no man that had any regard for his health would wish to come in contact with, especially from the hand of such a double-jointed but misshapen Hercules as bore it.

      “Ted, how goes it, my man?”

      “Ghe dhe shin dirthu, a dinaousal?” replied Ted, surveying him with a stare.

      “D—n you!” was about to proceed from Hycy's lips when he perceived that a very active magistrate, named Jennings, stood within hearing. The latter passed on, however, and Hycy proceeded:—“I was about to abuse you, Ted, for coming out with your Irish to me,” he said, “until I saw Jennings, and then I had you.”

      “Throgs, din, Meeisther Hycy, I don't like the Bairlha (* English tongue)—'caise I can't sphake her properly, at all, at all. Come you 'out wid the Gailick fwhor me, i' you plaise, Meeisther Hycy.”

      “D—n your Gaelic!” replied Hycy—“no, I won't—I don't speak it.”

      “The Laud forget you for that!” replied Ted, with a grin; “my ould grandmudher might larn it from you—hach, ach, ha!”

      “None of your d—d impertinence, Ted. I want to speak to you.”

      “Fwhat would her be?” asked Ted, with a face in which there might be read such a compound of cunning, vacuity, and ferocity as could rarely be witnessed in the same countenance.

      “Can you come down to me to-night?”

      “No; I'll be busy.”

      “Where are you at work now?”

      “In Glendearg, above.”

      “Well, then, if you can't come to me, I must only go to you. Will you be there tonight? I wish to speak to you on very particular business.”

      “Shiss; you will, dhin, wanst more?” asked the other, significantly.

      “I think so.”

      “Shiss—ay—vary good. Fwen will she come?”

      “About eleven or twelve; so don't be from about the place anywhere.”

      “Shiss—dhin—vary good. Is dhat all?”

      “That's all now. Are your turf dry or wet* to-day?”

      * One method of selling Poteen is by bringing in kishes of

       turf to the neighboring markets, when those who are up to

       the secret purchase the turf, or pretend to do so; and while

       in the act of discharging the load, the Keg of Poteen is

       quickly passed into the house of him who purchases the

       turf.—Are your turf wet or dry? was, consequently, a pass-

       word.

      “Not vary dhry,” replied Ted, with a grin so wide that, as was humorously said by a neighbor of his, “it would take a telescope to enable a man to see from the one end of it to the other.”

      Hycy nodded and laughed, and Ted, cracking his whip, proceeded up the town to sell his turf.

      Hycy now sauntered about through the market, chatting here and there among acquaintances, with the air of a man to whom neither life nor anything connected with it could occasion any earthly trouble. Indeed, it mattered little what he felt, his easiness of manner was such that not one of his acquaintances could for a moment impute to him the possibility of ever being weighed down by trouble or care of any kind; and lest his natural elasticity of spirits might fail to sustain this perpetual buoyancy, he by no means neglected to fortify himself with artificial support. Meet him when or where you might, be it at six in the morning or twelve at night, you were certain to catch from his breath the smell of liquor, either in its naked simplicity or disguised and modified in some shape.

      His ride home, though a rapid, was by no means a pleasing one. M'Mahon had not only refused to lend him the money he stood in need of, but actually quarrelled with him, as far as he could judge, for no other purpose but that he might make the quarrel a plea for refusing him. This disappointment, to a person of Hycy's disposition, was, we have seen, bitterly vexatious, and it may be presumed that he reached home in anything СКАЧАТЬ