“He dare not,” replied the mother; “and
now put this light out, and do you get into bed, sir,
with your clothes on.” They led me to a
small bedroom, a miserable affair; but in that part
of the country considered respectable. “Lie
down there,” said the mother, “and wait
till we call you.” They took the light
away, and left me to myself and my own reflections,
which were anything but pleasant. I lay awake,
it might be for two hours, when I heard the sound
of feet, and then a whispering under the window, and
shortly afterwards a loud knocking at the door, which
they were attempting to burst open. Every moment
I expected that it would yield to the violence which
was made use of, when the mother came down half-dressed,
with a light in her hand, hastened to me, and desired
me to follow her. I did so, and before she left
my room, she threw the window wide open. She
led me up a sort of half-stairs, half-ladder, to a
small room, where I found Kathleen sitting up in her
bed, and half-dressed. “O mother! mother!”
cried Kathleen.
“I bid ye do it, child,” replied the mother,
desiring me to creep into her daughter’s bed,
and cover myself up on the side next the wall.
“Let me put on more clothes, mother.”
“No, no, if you do, they will suspect, and will
not hesitate to search. Your mother bids you.”
The poor girl was burning with shame and confusion.
“Nay,” replied I, “if Kathleen does
not wish it, I will not buy my safety at the expense
of her feelings.”
“Yes, yes,” replied Kathleen, “I
don’t mind now; those words of yours are sufficient.
Come in, quick.”
Chapter XLV
Petticoat interest prevails,
and I escape; but I put my head into
the lion’s den.
There was no time for apology, and stepping over Kathleen,
I buried myself under the clothes by her side.
The mother then hastened downstairs, and arrived at
the door just as they had succeeded in forcing it
open, when in pounced a dozen men armed, with their
faces blackened. “Holy Jesus! what is it
that you want?” screamed the landlady.
“The blood of the tithe proctor, and that’s
what we’ll have,” replied the O’Tooles.
“Not in my house—not in my house!”
cried she. “Take him away, at all events;
promise me to take him away.”
“So we will, honey darlint; we’ll take
him out of your sight, and out of your hearing too,
only show us where he may be.”
“He’s sleeping,” replied the mother,
pointing to the door of the bedroom, where I had been
lying down.
The party took the light from her hand, and went into
the room, where they perceived the bed empty and the
window open. “Devil a bit of a proctor
here, anyhow,” cried one of them, “and
the window open. He’s off—hurrah!
my lads, he can’t be far.”
“By the powers! it’s just my opinion,
Mrs M’Shane,” replied the elder O’Toole,
“that he’s not quite so far off; so with
your lave, or by your lave, or without your lave,
we’ll just have a look over the premises.”
