"I'll see Moylan, Mr Lynch," said Daly; "and if I can talk him over, I think we might succeed in frightening the whole set of them, so far as to prevent the marriage. Moylan must know that if your sister was to marry young Kelly, there'd be an end to his agency; but we must promise him something, Mr Lynch."

"Yes; I suppose we must pay him, before we get anything out of him."

"No, not before--but he must understand that he will get something, if he makes himself useful. You must let me explain to him that if the marriage is prevented, you will make no objection to his continuing to act as Miss Lynch's agent; and I might hint the possibility of his receiving the rents on the whole property."

"Hint what you like, Daly, but don't tie me down to the infernal ruffian. I suppose we can throw him overboard afterwards, can't we?"

"Why, not altogether, Mr Lynch. If I make him a definite promise, I shall expect you to keep to it."

"Confound him!--but tell me, Daly; what is it he's to do?--and what is it we're to do?"

"Why, Mr Lynch, it's more than probable, I think, that this plan of Martin Kelly's marrying your sisther may have been talked over between the ould woman, Moylan, and the young man; and if so, that's something like a conspiracy. If I could worm that out of him, I think I'd manage to frighten them."

"And what the deuce had I better do? You see, there was a bit of a row between us. That is, Anty got frightened when I spoke to her of this rascal, and then she left the house. Couldn't you make her understand that she'd be all right if she'd come to the house again?"

While Barry Lynch had been sleeping off the effects of the punch, Daly had been inquiring into the circ.u.mstances under which Anty had left the house, and he had pretty nearly learned the truth; he knew, therefore, how much belief to give to his client's representation.

"I don't think," said he, "that your sister will be likely to come back at present; she will probably find herself quieter and easier at the inn. You see, she has been used to a quiet life."

"But, if she remains there, she can marry that young ruffian any moment she takes it into her head to do so. There's always some rogue of a priest ready to do a job of that sort."

"Exactly so, Mr Lynch. Of course your sister can marry whom she pleases, and when she pleases, and neither you nor any one else can prevent her; but still--"

"Then what the devil's the use of my paying you to come here and tell me that?"

"That's your affair: I didn't come without being sent for. But I was going to tell you that, though we can't prevent her from marrying if she pleases, we may make her afraid to do so. You had better write her a kind, affectionate note, regretting what has taken place between you, and promising to give her no molestation of any kind, if she will return to her own house,--and keep a copy of this letter. Then I will see Moylan; and, if I can do anything with him, it will be necessary that you should also see him. You could come over to Tuam, and meet him in my office; and then I will try and force an entrance into the widow's castle, and, if possible, see your sister, and humbug the ould woman into a belief that she has laid herself open to criminal indictment. We might even go so far as to have notices served on them; but, if they snap their fingers at us, we can do nothing further. My advice in that case would be, that you should make the best terms in your power with Martin Kelly."

"And let the whole thing go! I'd sooner--Why, Daly, I believe you're as bad as Blake! You're afraid of these huxtering thieves!"

"If you go on in that way, Mr Lynch, you'll get no professional gentleman to act with you. I give you my best advice; it you don't like it, you needn't follow it; but you won't get a solicitor in Connaught to do better for you than what I'm proposing."

"Confusion!" muttered Barry, and he struck the hot turf in the grate a desperate blow with the tongs which he had in his hands, and sent the sparks and bits of fire flying about the hearth.

"The truth is, you see, your sister's in her full senses; there's the divil a doubt of that; the money's her own, and she can marry whom she pleases. All that we can do is to try and make the Kellys think they have got into a sc.r.a.pe."

"But this letter--What on earth am I to say to her?"

"I'll just put down what I would say, were I you; and if you like you can copy it." Daly then wrote the following letter--

My Dear Anty,

Before taking other steps, which could not fail of being very disagreeable to you and to others, I wish to point out to you how injudiciously you are acting in leaving your own house; and to try to induce you to do that which will be most beneficial to yourself, and most conducive to your happiness and respectability. If you will return to Dunmore House, I most solemnly promise to leave you unmolested. I much regret that my violence on Thursday should have annoyed you, but I can a.s.sure you it was attributable merely to my anxiety on your account. Nothing, however, shall induce me to repeat it. But you must be aware that a little inn is not a fit place for you to be stopping at; and I am obliged to tell you that I have conclusive evidence of a conspiracy having been formed, by the family with whom you are staying, to get possession of your money; and that this conspiracy was entered into very shortly after the contents of my father's will had been made public. I _must_ have this fact proved at the a.s.sizes, and the disreputable parties to it punished, unless you will consent, at any rate for a time, to put yourself under the protection of your brother.

In the meantime pray believe me, dear Anty, in spite of appearances,

Your affectionate brother,

BARRY LYNCH.

It was then agreed that this letter should be copied and signed by Barry, and delivered by Terry on the following morning, which was Sunday. Daly then returned to Tuam, with no warm admiration for his client.

In the meantime the excitement at the inn, arising from Anty's arrival and Martin's return, was gradually subsiding. These two important events, both happening on the same day, sadly upset the domestic economy of Mrs Kelly's establishment. Sally had indulged in tea almost to stupefaction, and Kattie's elfin locks became more than ordinarily disordered. On the following morning, however, things seemed to fall a little more into their places: the widow was, as usual, behind her counter; and if her girls did not give her as much a.s.sistance as she desired of them, and as much as was usual with them, they were perhaps excusable, for they could not well leave their new guest alone on the day after her coming to them.

Martin went out early to Toneroe; doubtless the necessary labours of the incipient spring required him at the farm but I believe that if his motives were a.n.a.lysed, he hardly felt himself up to a _tete-a-tete_ with his mistress, before he had enjoyed a cool day's consideration of the extraordinary circ.u.mstances which had brought her into the inn as his mother's guest. He, moreover, wished to have a little undisturbed conversation with Meg, and to learn from her how Anty might be inclined towards him just at present. So Martin spent his morning among his lambs and his ploughs; and was walking home, towards dusk, tired enough, when he met Barry Lynch, on horseback, that hero having come out, as usual, for his solitary ride, to indulge in useless dreams of the happy times he would have, were his sister only removed from her tribulations in this world. Though Martin had never been on friendly terms with his more ambitious neighbour, there had never, up to this time, been any quarrel between them, and he therefore just muttered "Good morning, Mr Lynch," as he pa.s.sed him on the road.

Barry said nothing, and did not appear to see him as he pa.s.sed; but some idea struck him as soon as he had pa.s.sed, and he pulled in his horse and hallooed out "Kelly!"--and, as Martin stopped, he added, "Come here a moment--I want to speak to you."

"Well, Mr Barry, what is it?" said the other, returning. Lynch paused, and evidently did not know whether to speak or let it alone. At last he said, "Never mind--I'll get somebody else to say what I was going to say. But you'd better look sharp what you're about, my lad, or you'll find yourself in a sc.r.a.pe that you don't dream of."

"And is that all you called me back for?" said Martin.

"That's all I mean to say to you at present."

"Well then, Mr Lynch, I must say you're very good, and I'm shure I will look sharp enough. But, to my thinking, d'you know, you want looking afther yourself a precious dale more than I do," and then he turned to proceed homewards, but said, as he was going--"Have you any message for your sisther, Mr Lynch?"

"By--! my young man, I'll make you pay for what you're doing," answered Barry.

"I know you'll be glad to hear she's pretty well: she's coming round from the thratement she got the other night; though, by all accounts, it's a wondher she's alive this moment to tell of it."

Barry did not attempt any further reply, but rode on, sorry enough that he had commenced the conversation. Martin got home in time for a snug tea with Anty and his sisters, and succeeded in prevailing on the three to take each a gla.s.s of punch; and, before Anty went to bed he began to find himself more at his ease with her, and able to call her by her Christian name without any disagreeable emotion. He certainly had a most able coadjutor in Meg. She made room on the sofa for him between herself and his mistress, and then contrived that the room should be barely sufficient, so that Anty was rather closely hemmed up in one corner: moreover, she made Anty give her opinion as to Martin's looks after his metropolitan excursion, and tried hard to make Martin pay some compliments to Anty's appearance. But in this she failed, although she gave him numerous opportunities.

However, they pa.s.sed the evening very comfortably,--quite sufficiently so to make Anty feel that the kindly, humble friendship of the inn was infinitely preferable to the miserable grandeur of Dunmore House; and it is probable that all the lovemaking in the world would not have operated so strongly in Martin's favour as this feeling. Meg, however, was not satisfied, for as soon as she had seen Jane and Anty into the bed-room she returned to her brother, and lectured him as to his lukewarm manifestations of affection.

"Martin," said she, returning into the little sitting-room, and carefully shutting the door after her, "you're the biggest bosthoon of a gandher I ever see, to be losing your opportunities with Anty this way! I b'lieve it's waiting you are for herself to come forward to you.

Do you think a young woman don't expect something more from a lover than jist for you to sit by her, and go on all as one as though she was one of your own sisthers? Av' once she gets out of this before the priest has made one of the two of you, mind, I tell you, it'll be all up with you. I wondher, Martin, you haven't got more pluck in you!"

"Oh! bother, Meg. You're thinking of nothing but kissing and s...o...b..ering.--Anty's not the same as you and Jane, and doesn't be all agog for such nonsense!"

"I tell you, Martin, Anty's a woman; and, take my word for it, what another girl likes won't come amiss to her. Besides, why don't you spake to her?"

"Spake?--why, what would you have me spake?"

"Well, Martin, you're a fool. Have you, or have you not, made up your mind to marry Anty?"

"To be shure I will, av' she'll have me."

"And do you expect her to have you without asking?"

"Shure, you know, didn't I ask her often enough?"

"Ah, but you must do more than jist ask her that way. She'll never make up her mind to go before the priest, unless you say something sthronger to her. Jist tell her, plump out, you're ready and willing, and get the thing done before Lent. What's to hindher you?--shure, you know," she added, in a whisper, "you'll not get sich a fortune as Anty's in your way every day. Spake out, man, and don't be afraid of her: take my word she won't like you a bit the worse for a few kisses."

Martin promised to comply with his sister's advice, and to sound Anty touching their marriage on the following morning after ma.s.s.

On the Sunday morning, at breakfast, the widow proposed to Anty that she should go to ma.s.s with herself and her daughters; but Anty trembled so violently at the idea of showing herself in public, after her escape from Dunmore House, that the widow did not press her to do so, although afterwards she expressed her disapprobation of Anty's conduct to her own girls.

"I don't see what she has to be afeard of," said she, "in going to get ma.s.s from her own clergyman in her own chapel. She don't think, I suppose, that Barry Lynch'd dare come in there to pull her out, before the blessed altar, glory be to G.o.d."