Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 786 pages of information about Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent.

“And I’ll tell you who beggared you before all is over—­but, as I said, listen.  It’s now fifteen years since Brian M’Loughlin transported my son Dick, for stealin’ a horse from him; he was my only son, barrin’ poor Raymond, who was then a mere slip.  He was a fine young man, but he was wild and wicked, and it was in Squire Deaker’s house, and about Squire Deaker’s stables, that he picked up his dishonesty and love of horses—­he was groom to that ould profligate, who took him into sarvice for a raison he had.”

“Be as brief as you can,” said Harman, “brief—­brief.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Harman,” said Clement, “let her, if you will be advised by me, take her own time, and her own way.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Poll, “that’s just what I wish.  Well, he, M’Loughlin, transported my boy, that my heart was in, and from that minute I swore never to die till I’d revenge that act upon him.  Very well—­I kept my word.  Phil M’Clutchy sent for me, and in his father’s presence, we made up a plot to disgrace Miss M’Loughlin.  I brought her out two or three times to meet me privately, and it was all on your account, by the way, for I tould her you were in danger; and I so contrived it, that on one or two occasions you should see myself and her together.  I made her promise solemnly not to tell that she saw me, or mention what passed between us, or if she did, that your life was not safe; her love for you, kept her silent even to yourself.  But it was when you were sent to gaol, that we found we had the best opportunity of ruining her, which was all I wanted:  but Phil, the boy, wished to give you a stab as well as her.  As for myself it was in for a penny, in for a pound with me, and I didn’t care a traheen what you suffered, provided I had my revenge on any one belongin’ to Brian M’Loughlin, that transported my son.”

“Is Mary M’Loughlin innocent?” asked Harman, starting from his seat, and placing his face within a few inches of Poll Doolin’s.

Poll calmly put her hand upon his shoulder, and said:—­

“Sit down, young man; don’t disturb or stop me in what I’m sayin’, and you’ll come the sooner at the truth.”

“You are right,” he replied, “but who can blame me?—­my happiness depends on it.”

“Listen,” said she, “we made up a plan that she was to meet Phil behind her father’s garden—­and why?  Why, because I told her that Val had made up his mind to hang you; but I said that Phil, for her sake, could prevent that, and save you, if she would only see him that he might clear himself of some reports that had gone abroad on him.  For your sake she consented to that; but not until I had brought her nearly to despair, and till she believed that there was no other hope for you.  It was Val M’Clutchy, though, that put me up to bring several of the neighbors, and among the rest your own cousin, to witness the trick of Phil’s gettin’ in at the windy; as it was his to bring the bloodhounds, at the very minute, to catch the scoundrel in the poor girl’s bedroom.  That was enough; all the wather in the say couldn’t wash her white, when this was given to the tongue of scandal to work upon.”

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Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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