The Absentee (41 page)

And we leave him with the reasonable expectation that he will support
through life the promise of his early character; that his patriotic
views will extend with his power to carry wishes into action; that
his attachment to his warm-hearted countrymen will still increase upon
further acquaintance; and that he will long diffuse happiness through
the wide circle, which is peculiarly subject to the influence and
example of a great resident Irish proprietor.

MY DEAR BROTHER,

Yours of the 26th, inclosing the five pound note for my father, came
safe to hand Monday last; and with his thanks and blessing to you, he
commends it to you herewith inclosed back again, on account of his being
in no immediate necessity, nor likelihood to want in future, as you
shall hear forthwith; but wants you over with all speed, and the note
will answer for travelling charges; for we can't enjoy the luck it has
pleased God to give us without YEES: put the rest in your pocket, and
read it when you've time.

Old Nick's gone, and St. Dennis along with him, to the place he come
from—praise be to God! The ould lord has found him out in his tricks;
and I helped him to that, through the young lord that I driv, as I
informed you in my last, when he was a Welchman, which was the best turn
ever I did, though I did not know it no more than Adam that time. So
OULD Nick's turned out of the agency clean and clear; and the day after
it was known, there was surprising great joy through the whole country;
not surprising either, but just what you might, knowing him, rasonably
expect. He (that is, old Nick and St. Dennis) would have been burnt that
night—I MANE, in EFFIGY, through the town of Clonbrony, but that the
new man, Mr. Burke, come down that day too soon to stop it, and said,
'it was not becoming to trample on the fallen,' or something that way,
that put an end to it; and though it was a great disappointment to many,
and to me in particular, I could not but like the jantleman the better
for it anyhow. They say, he is a very good jantleman, and as unlike
old Nick or the saint as can be; and takes no duty fowl, nor glove,
nor sealing-money; nor asks duty work nor duty turf. Well, when I was
disappointed of the EFFIGY, I comforted myself by making a bonfire of
old Nick's big rick of duty turf, which, by great luck, was out in the
road, away from all dwelling-house, or thatch, or yards, to take fire;
so no danger in life or objection. And such another blaze! I wished
you'd seed it—and all the men, women, and children in the town and
country, far and near, gathered round it, shouting and dancing like
mad!—and it was light as day quite across the bog, as far as Bartley
Finnigan's house. And I heard after, they seen it from all parts of the
three counties, and they thought it was St. John's Eve in a mistake—or
couldn't make out what it was; but all took it in good part, for a
good sign, and were in great joy. As for St. Dennis and OULD Nick,
an attorney had his foot upon em, with an habere a latitat, and three
executions hanging over 'em; and there's the end of rogues! and a great
example in the country. And—no more about it; for I can't be wasting
more ink upon them that don't desarve it at my hands, when I want it
for them that do, you shall see. So some weeks past, and there was great
cleaning at Clonbrony Castle, and in the town of Clonbrony; and the new
agent's smart and clever; and he had the glaziers, and the painters, and
the slaters up and down in the town wherever wanted; and you wouldn't
know it again. Thinks I, this is no bad sign! Now, cock up your ears,
Pat! for the great news is coming, and the good. The master's come
home—long life to him!—and family come home yesterday, all entirely!
The OULD lord and the young lord (ay, there's the man, Paddy!), and my
lady, and Miss Nugent. And I driv Miss Nugent's maid, that maid that
was, and another; so I had the luck to be in it along WID 'em, and
see all, from first to last. And first, I must tell you, my young Lord
Colambre remembered and noticed me the minute he lit at our inn,
and condescended to beckon at me out of the yard to him, and axed
me—'Friend Larry,' says he, 'did you keep your promise?'—'My oath
again' the whisky, is it?' says I. 'My lord, I surely did,' said I;
which was true, as all the country knows I never tasted a drop since.
'And I'm proud to see your honour, my lord, as good as your word too,
and back again among us. So then there was a call for the horses; and
no more at that time passed betwix' my young lord and me, but that he
pointed me out to the OULD one, as I went off. I noticed and thanked him
for it in my heart, though I did not know all the good was to come of
it. Well, no more of myself, for the present.

Ogh, it's I driv 'em well; and we all got to the great gate of the park
before sunset, and as fine an evening as ever you see; with the sun
shining on the tops of the trees, as the ladies noticed; the leaves
changed, but not dropped, though so late in the season. I believe the
leaves knew what they were about, and kept on, on purpose to welcome
them; and the birds were singing, and I stopped whistling, that they
might hear them; but sorrow bit could they hear when they got to the
park gate, for there was such a crowd, and such a shout, as you never
see—and they had the horses off every carriage entirely, and drew'em
home, with, blessings, through the park. And, God bless 'em! when they
got out, they didn't go shut themselves up in the great drawing-room,
but went straight out to the TIRrass, to satisfy the eyes and hearts
that followed them. My lady LANING on my young lord, and Miss Grace
Nugent that was, the beautifullest angel that ever you set eyes on,
with the finest complexion and sweetest of smiles, LANING upon the ould
lord's arm, who had his hat off, bowing to all, and noticing the old
tenants as he passed by name. Oh, there was great gladness and tears in
the midst; for joy I could scarce keep from myself.

After a turn or two upon the TIRrass, my Lord Colambre QUIT his mother's
arm for a minute, and he come to the edge of the slope, and looked down
and through all the crowd for some one.

'Is it the widow O'Neill, my lord?' says I; 'she's yonder, with the
spectacles on her nose, betwixt her son and daughter, as usual.'

Then my lord beckoned, and they did not know which of the TREE would
stir; and then he gave TREE beckons with his own finger, and they all
TREE came fast enough to the bottom of the slope forenent my lord; and
he went down and helped the widow up (Oh, he's the true jantleman), and
brought 'em all TREE up on the TIRrass, to my lady and Miss Nugent; and
I was up close after, that I might hear, which wasn't manners, but I
couldn't help it. So what he said I don't well know, for I could not get
near enough, after all. But I saw my lady smile very kind, and take the
widow O'Neill by the hand, and then my Lord Colambre 'TRODUCED Grace
to Miss Nugent, and there was the word NAMESAKE, and something about a
check curtains; but, whatever It was, they was all greatly pleased; then
my Lord Colambre turned and looked for Brian, who had fell back, and
took him with some commendation to my lord his father. And my lord the
master said, which I didn't know till after, that they should have their
house and farm at the OULD rent; and at the surprise, the widow dropped
down dead; and there was a cry as for ten BERRINGS. 'Be qui'te,' says I,
'she's only kilt for joy;' and I went and lift her up, for her son had
no more strength that minute than the child new born; and Grace trembled
like a leaf, as white as the sheet, but not long, for the mother came
to, and was as well as ever when I brought some water, which Miss Nugent
handed to her with her own hand.

'That was always pretty and good, said the widow, laying her hand upon
Miss Nugent, 'and kind and good to me and mine.'

That minute there was music from below. The blind harper, O'Neill, with
his harp, that struck up 'Gracey Nugent.'

And that finished, and my Lord Colambre smiling, with the tears standing
in his eyes too, and the OULD lord quite wiping his, I ran to the
TIRrass brink to bid O'Neill play it again; but as I run, I thought I
heard a voice call Larry.

'Who calls Larry?' says I.

'My Lord Colambre calls you, Larry,' says all at once; and four takes me
by the shoulders and spins me round. 'There's my young lord calling you,
Larry—run for your life.'

So I run back for my life, and walked respectful, with my hat in my
hand, when I got near.

'Put on your hat, my father desires it, says my Lord Colambre. The ould
lord made a sign to that purpose, but was too full to speak. 'Where's
your father?' continues my young lord.—' He's very ould, my lord,'
says I. 'I didn't ask you how ould he was,' says he; 'but where is
he?'—'He's behind the crowd below, on account of his infirmities; he
couldn't walk so fast as the rest, my lord,' says I; 'but his heart
is with you, if not his body. 'I must have his body too, so bring him
bodily before us; and this shall be your warrant for so doing,' said
my lord, joking; for he knows the NATUR of us, Paddy, and how we love a
joke in our hearts, as well as if he had lived all his life in Ireland;
and by the same token will, for that rason, do what he pleases with us,
and more maybe than a man twice as good, that never would smile on us.

But I'm telling you of my father. 'I've a warrant for you, father,'
says I; 'and must have you bodily before the justice, and my lord
chief-justice.' So he changed colour a bit at first; but he saw me
smile. 'And I've done no sin,' said he; 'and, Larry, you may lead me
now, as you led me all my life.'

And up the slope he went with me as light as fifteen; and, when we got
up, my Lord Clonbrony said, 'I am sorry an old tenant, and a good old
tenant, as I hear you were, should have been turned out of your farm.'

'Don't fret, it's no great matter, my lord,' said my father. 'I shall be
soon out of the way; but if you would be so kind to speak a word for
my boy here, and that I could afford, while the life is in me, bring my
other boy back out of banishment—'

'Then,' says my Lord Clonbrony, 'I'll give you and your sons three
lives, or thirty-one years, from this day, of your former farm. Return
to it when you please.' 'And,' added my Lord Colambre, 'the flaggers,
I hope, will be soon banished.' Oh, how could I thank him—not a word
could I proffer—but I know I clasped my two hands, and prayed for him
inwardly. And my father was dropping down on his knees, but the master
would not let him; and OBSARVED, that posture should only be for his
God. And, sure enough, in that posture, when he was out of sight, we did
pray for him that night, and will all our days.

But, before we quit his presence, he called me back, and bid me write
to my brother, and bring you back, if you've no objections, to your own
country.

So come, my dear Pat, and make no delay, for joy's not joy complAte
till you're in it—my father sends his blessing, and Peggy her love, The
family entirely is to settle for good in Ireland, and there was in the
castle yard last night a bonfire made by my lord's orders of the
ould yellow damask furniture, to plase my lady, my lord says. And the
drawing-room, the butler was telling me, is new hung; and the chairs
with velvet as white as snow, and shaded over with natural flowers, by
Miss Nugent. Oh! how I hope what I guess will come true, and I've rason
to believe it will, for I dreamt in my bed last night it did. But keep
yourself to yourself—that Miss Nugent (who is no more Miss Nugent, they
say, but Miss Reynolds, and has a new-found grandfather, and is a big
heiress, which she did not want in my eyes, nor in my young lord's),
I've a notion will be sometime, and maybe sooner than is expected, my
Lady Viscountess Colambre—so haste to the wedding. And there's another
thing: they say the rich ould grandfather's coming over;—and another
thing, Pat, you would not be out of the fashion—and you see it's
growing the fashion not to be an Absentee.—

Your loving brother,

LARRY BRADY.