Mrs. O'Dwyer hated any such payments herself, and looked on them as certain signs of immorality. That every man should take his drop of drink, consume it noiselessly, and pay for it immediately--that was her idea of propriety in its highest form.

"And they've been down here three or four times, each of them," said Father Barney, thinking deeply on the subject.

"I believe they have," said f.a.n.n.y. "But of course I don't know much of where they've been to."

Father Barney knew very well that his dear niece had been on much more intimate terms with her guest than she pretended. The rumours had reached his ears some time since that the younger of the two strangers in South Main Street was making himself agreeable to the heiress of the hotel, and he had intended to come down upon her with all the might of an uncle, and, if necessary, with all the authority of the Church. But now that f.a.n.n.y had discarded her lover, he wisely felt that it would be well for him to know nothing about it. Both uncles and priests may know too much--very foolishly.

"I have seen them here myself," said he, "and they have both been up at Castle Richmond."

"They do say as poor Sir Thomas is in a bad way," said Mrs. O'Dwyer, shaking her head piteously.

"And yet he sees these men," said Father Barney. "I know that for certain. He has seen them, though he will rarely see anybody now-a-days."

"Young Mr. Herbert is a-doing most of the business up about the place," said Mrs. O'Dwyer. "And people do say as how he is going to make a match of it with Lady Clara Desmond. And it's the lucky girl she'll be, for he's a nice young fellow entirely."

"Not half equal to her other Joe, Mr. Owen that is," said f.a.n.n.y.

"Well, I don't know that, my dear. Such a house and property as Castle Richmond is not likely to go a-begging among the young women.

And then Mr. Herbert is not so rampageous like as him of Hap House, by all accounts."

But Father Barney still kept to his subject. "And they are both at your place at the present moment, eh, f.a.n.n.y?"

"They was to dine there, after I left."

"And the old man said he'd be down here again next Thursday,"

continued the priest. "I heard that for certain. I'll tell you what it is, they're not after any good here. They are Protestants, ain't they?"

"Oh, black Protestants," said Mrs. O'Dwyer. "But you are not taking your tay, Father Bernard," and she again filled his cup for him.

"If you'll take my advice, f.a.n.n.y, you'll give them nothing more without seeing their money. They'll come to no good here, I'm sure of that. They're afther some mischief with that poor old gentleman at Castle Richmond, and it's my belief the police will have them before they've done."

"Like enough," said Mrs. O'Dwyer.

"They may have them to-morrow, for what I care," said f.a.n.n.y, who could not help feeling that Aby Mollett had at one time been not altogether left without hope as her suitor.

"But you wouldn't like anything like that to happen in your father's house," said Father Barney.

"Bringing throuble and disgrace on an honest name," said Mrs.

O'Dwyer.

"There'd be no disgrace as I knows of," said f.a.n.n.y, stoutly. "Father makes his money by the public, and in course he takes in any that comes the way with money in their pockets to pay the shot."

"But these Molletts ain't got the money to pay the shot," said Mrs.

O'Dwyer, causticly. "You've about sucked 'em dhry, I'm thinking, and they owes you more now than you're like to get from 'em."

"I suppose father 'll have to take that bill up," said f.a.n.n.y, a.s.senting. And so it was settled down there among them that the Molletts were to have the cold shoulder, and that they should in fact be turned out of the Kanturk Hotel as quickly as this could be done.

"Better a small loss at first, than a big one at last," said Mrs.

O'Dwyer, with much wisdom. "They'll come to mischief down here, as sure as my name's M'Carthy," said the priest. "And I'd be sorry your father should be mixed up in it."

And then by degrees the conversation was changed, but not till the tea-things had been taken away, and a square small bottle of very particular whisky put on the table in its place. And the sugar also was brought, and boiling water in an immense jug, as though Father Barney were going to make a deep potation indeed, and a lemon in a wine gla.s.s; and then the priest was invited, with much hospitality, to make himself comfortable. Nor did the luxuries prepared for him end here; but f.a.n.n.y, the pretty Fan herself, filled a pipe for him, and pretended that she would light it, for such priests are merry enough sometimes, and can joke as well as other men with their pretty nieces.

"But you're not mixing your punch, Father Bernard," said Mrs.

O'Dwyer, with a plaintive melancholy voice, "and the wather getting cowld and all! Faix then, Father Bernard, I'll mix it for ye, so I will." And so she did, and well she knew how. And then she made another for herself and her niece, urging that "a thimbleful would do f.a.n.n.y all the good in life afther her ride acra.s.s them cowld mountains," and the priest looked on a.s.senting, blowing the comfortable streams of smoke from his nostrils.

"And so, Father Bernard, you and Parson Townsend is to meet again to-morrow at Gortnaclough." Whereupon Father Bernard owned that such was the case, with a nod, not caring to disturb the pipe which lay comfortably on his lower lip.

"Well, well; only to think on it," continued Mrs. O'Dwyer. "That the same room should hould the two of ye." And she lifted up her hands and shook her head.

"It houlds us both very comfortable, I can a.s.sure you, Mrs. O'Dwyer."

"And he ain't rampageous and highty-tighty? He don't give hisself no airs?"

"Well, no; nothing in particular. Why should the man be such a fool as that?"

"Why, in course? But they are such fools, Father Bernard. They does think theyselves such grand folks. Now don't they? I'd give a dandy of punch all round to the company just to hear you put him down once; I would. But he isn't upsetting at all, then?"

"Not the last time we met, he wasn't; and I don't think he intends it. Things have come to that now that the parsons know where they are and what they have to look to. They're getting a lesson they'll not forget in a hurry. Where are their rent charges to come from--can you tell me that, Mrs. O'Dwyer?"

Mrs. O'Dwyer could not, but she remarked that pride would always have a fall. "And there's no pride like Protesthant pride," said f.a.n.n.y.

"It is so upsetting, I can't abide it." All which tended to show that she had quite given up her Protestant lover.

"And is it getthing worse than iver with the poor crathurs?" said Mrs. O'Dwyer, referring, not to the Protestants, but to the victims of the famine.

"Indeed it's getting no betther," said the priest, "and I'm fearing it will be worse before it is over. I haven't married one couple in Drumbarrow since November last."

"And that's a heavy sign, Father Bernard."

"The surest sign in the world that they have no money among them at all, at all. And it is bad with thim, Mrs. O'Dwyer,--very bad, very bad indeed."

"Glory be to G.o.d, the poor cratures!" said the soft-hearted lady.

"It isn't much the like of us have to give away, Father Bernard; I needn't be telling you that. But we'll help, you know,--we'll help."

"And so will father, uncle Bernard. If you're so bad off about here I know he'll give you a thrifle for the asking." In a short time, however, it came to pa.s.s that those in the cities could spare no aid to the country. Indeed it may be a question whether the city poverty was not the harder of the two.

"G.o.d bless you both--you've soft hearts, I know." And Father Barney put his punch to his lips. "Whatever you can do for me shall not be thrown away. And I'll tell you what, Mrs. O'Dwyer, it does behove us all to put our best foot out now. We will not let them say that the Papists would do nothing for their own poor."

"'Deed then an' they'll say anything of us, Father Bernard. There's nothing too hot or too heavy for them."

"At any rate let us not deserve it, Mrs. O'Dwyer. There will be a lot of them at Gortnaclough to-morrow, and I shall tell them that we, on our side, won't be wanting. To give them their due, I must say that they are working well. That young Herbert Fitzgerald's a trump, whether he's Protestant or Catholic."

"An' they do say he's a strong bearing towards the ould religion,"

said Mrs. O'Dwyer. "G.o.d bless his sweet young face av' he'd come back to us. That's what I say."

"G.o.d bless his face any way, say I," said Father Barney, with a wider philanthropy. "He is doing his best for the people, and the time has come now when we must hang together, if it be any way possible." And with this the priest finished his pipe, and wishing the ladies good night, walked away to his own house.