Phelim Otoole's Courtship and Other Stories. William Carleton

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СКАЧАТЬ was to lay his case before the priest, and to assail Buckram-back, the pensioner, on his way home, for the brogues.

      When Phelim arrived at the priest's house, he found none of the family up but the housekeeper. After bidding her good morrow, and being desired to sit down, he entered into conversation with the good woman, who felt anxious to know the scandal of the whole parish.

      “Aren't you a son of Larry Toole's, young man?”

      “I am, indeed, Mrs. Doran. I'm Phelim O'Toole, my mother says.”

      “I hope you're comin' to spake to the priest about your duty.”

      “Why, then, be gorra, I'm glad you axed me, so I am—for only you seen the pinance in my face, you'd never suppose sich a thing. I want to make my confishion to him, wid the help o' Goodness.”

      “Is there any news goin', Phelim?”

      “Divil a much, barrin' what you hard yourself, I suppose, about Frank Fogarty, that went mad yesterday, for risin' the meal on the poor, an' ate the ears off himself afore anybody could see him.”

      “Vick na hoiah, Phelim; do you tell me so?”

      “Why man o' Moses, is it possible you did not hear it, ma'am?”

      “Oh, worra, man alive, not a syllable! Ate the ears off of himself! Phelim, acushla, see what it is to be hard an the poor!”

      “Oh, he was ever an' always the biggest nagar livin', ma'am. Ay, an' when he was tied up, till a blessed priest 'ud be brought to maliwgue the divil out of him, he got a scythe an' cut his own two hands off.”

      “No thin, Phelim!”

      “Faitha, ma'am, sure enough. I suppose, ma'am, you hard about Biddy Duignan?”

      “Who is she, Phelim?”

      “Why the misfortunate crathurs a daughter of her father's, ould Mick Duignan, of Tavenimore.”

      “An' what about her, Phehm! What happened her?”

      “Faix, ma'am, a bit of a mistake she met wid; but, anyhow, ould Harry Connolly's to stand in the chapel nine Sundays, an' to make three Stations to Lough Dergh for it. Bedad, they say it's as purty a crathur as you'd see in a day's thravellin'.”

      “Harry Connolly! Why, I know Harry, but I never heard of Biddy Duiguan, or her father at all. Harry Connolly! Is it a man that's bent over his staff for the last twenty years! Hut, tut, Phelim, don't say sich a thing.”

      “Why, ma'am, sure he takes wid it himself; he doesn't deny it at all, the ould sinner.”

      “Oh, that I mayn't sin, Phelim, if one knows who to thrust in this world, so they don't. Why the desateful ould—hut, Phelim, I can't give into it.”

      “Faix, ma'am, no wondher; but sure when he confesses it himself! Bedad, Mrs. Doran, I never seen you look so well. Upon my sowl, you'd take the shine out o' the youngest o' thim!”

      “Is it me, Phelim? Why, you're beside yourself.”

      “Beside myself, am I? Faith, an' if I am, what I said's thruth, anyhow. I'd give more nor I'll name, to have so red a pair of cheeks as you have. Sowl, they're thumpers.”

      “Ha, ha, ha! Oh, that I mayn't sin, but that's a good joke! An ould woman near sixty!”

      “Now, Mrs. Doran, that's nonsense, an' nothing else. Near sixty! Oh, by my purty, that's runnin' away wid the story entirely—No, nor thirty. Faith, I know them that's not more nor five or six-an'-twenty, that 'ud be glad to borry the loan of your face for a while. Divil a word o' lie in that.”

      “No, no, Phelim, aroon, I seen the day; but that's past. I remimber when the people did say I was worth lookin' at. Won't you sit near the fire? You're in the dhraft there.”

      “Thank you kindly, ma'am; faith, you have the name, far an' near, for bein' the civilest woman alive this day. But, upon my sowl, if you wor ten times as civil, an' say that you're not aquil to any young girl in the parish, I'd dispute it wid you; an' say it was nothin' else than a bounce.”

      “Arrah, Phelim, darlin, how can you palaver me that way? I hope your dacent father's well, Phelim, an' your honest mother.”

      “Divil a fear o' them. Now, I'd hould nine to one that the purtiest o' them hasn't a sweeter mout' than you have. By dad, you have a pair o' lips, God bless them that—well, well—”

      Phelim here ogled her with looks particularly wistful.

      “Phelim, you're losin' the little sense you had.”

      “Faix, an' it's you that's taken them out o' me, then. A purty woman always makes a fool o' me. Divil a word o' lie in it. Faix, Mrs. Doran, ma'am, you have a chin o' your own! Well, well! Oh, be Gorra, I wish I hadn't come out this mornin' any how!”

      “Arrah, why, Phelim? In throth, it's you that's the quare Phelim!”

      “Why, ma'am—Oh bedad it's a folly to talk. I can't go widout tastin' them. Sich a pair o' timptations as your lips, barrin' your eyes, I didn't see this many a day.”

      “Tastin' what, you mad crathur?”

      “Why, I'll show you what I'd like to be afther tastin'. Oh! bedad, I'll have no refusin'; a purty woman always makes a foo——”

      “Keep away, Phelim; keep off; bad end to you; what do you mane? Don't you see Fool Art lyin' in the corner there undher the sacks? I don't think he's asleep.”

      “Fool Art! why, the misfortunate idiot, what about him? Sure he hasn't sinse to know the right hand from the left. Bedad, ma'am the truth is, that a purty woman always makes a——”

      “Throth an' you won't,” said she struggling.

      “Throth an' I will, thin, taste the same lips, or we'll see whose strongest!”

      A good-humored struggle took place between the housekeeper and Phelim, who found her, in point of personal strength, very near a match for him. She laughed heartily, but Phelim attempted to salute her with a face of mock gravity as nearly resembling that of a serious man as he could assume. In the meantime, chairs were overturned, and wooden dishes trundled about; a crash was heard here, and another there. Phelim drove her to the hob, and from the hob they both bounced into the fire, the embers and ashes of which were kicked up into a cloud about them.

      “Phelim, spare your strinth,” said the funny housekeeper, “it won't do. Be asy now, or I'll get angry. The priest, too, will hear the noise, and so will Fool Art.”

      “To the divil wid Fool Art an' the priest, too,” said Phelim, “who cares abuckey about the priest when a purty woman like you is consarn—

      “What's this?” said the priest, stepping down from the parlor—“What's the matter? Oh, ho, upon my word, Mrs. Doran! Very good, indeed! Under my own roof, too! An' pray, ma'am, who is the gallant? Turn round young man. Yes, I see! Why, better and better! Bouncing Phelim O'Toole, that never spoke truth! I think, Mr. O'Toole, that when you come a courting, you ought to consider it worth your while to appear somewhat more smooth in your habiliments. I simply venture СКАЧАТЬ