The record-union., 1892-06-04

the others is all maxim up band to say
agln' 1t. And, oh, Miss Alice, what'Il
/ poor Thady do at all, at all? He can't get
! polls to purtect him.
/ Don't fret, Mary. I'll speak TO Master
/ Edward about it, and I'm sure he'll be
able to think of something. And now,
Mary" but before she could finish her
sentence, Mary, having caught sight of
the clock, exclaimed:
! Five o'clock. Och, is it O'Clock it
is? must go, Miss Alice" and putting
/ her shawl over her head again, she took
her leave, refusing all offers of refresh
ment.
which she did sooner than she expected.
lie was coming down the road, whistling
| gayIy, with his sickle in his hand
och, Mary, IS that yourself, comm to
meet me? But what's on ye, Mary?
| Why, what is it at all, at alp" He threw
down his sickle, and in the shelter OF
his loving arms Mary sobbed out her sad
story.
'Well, bad luck to thim," was Tha-
| dy's remark when he heard all Mary had
| to tell. But don't be botherin' yourself
about thin, Mary. They're not worth
| 1t. ia like to see the boy that Id lay a
hnger on me. Don't ye think Pm able
for thin, Mary-eh?''
'Och, Thady, what's the use o. talkin'?
Shure, know well enough ye'd be able
for two or three of thin in a fair fight.
But II seven or eight of thin sets on ye
some dark night, and you not thinlin'
about thin, what could We do then? AM
| ye know well enough that's the way
they'll thrate ye. Och, Thady, there's
nothin' for it but to go to America. Ye
were ready enough to go last week. So
now go mkt week, if they let you live
that long, and me blessin' i'll go wild We,
Ihady, and Fll go out to ye as soon as [
can earn the money. If it wasn't till
twenty years I'd niver look at another
boy. Now say yen go before we part
TINS eyenin', an Pll go home wild light
heart"
"och, Mary, shure can't give you an
answer in such hurry as that. What
about me ould mother, Mary? The besht
mother that ever reared a boy, and she a
Wildly woman ever since | was born, and
not chick or child but meself. How
could go and lave her? And l haven't
the money to take the two of uz. Let
alone that l think she'd niver be able for
the journey. For you know, Mary, she's
complainin' this while back, and she was
very donny in herself all this week"
"Och, Thady, shure Ill be daughter
| to her and mind her as we'll as We could
yerself; but go, Thady, do go for my
sake. But | must lave you now, for it S
| gettln' dark, and shure if they knew l
| was tSllhl1 W you GLlty u HdNG my lie.
| GOOD nights We're exchanged, and Mary
hurried homeward, while Thady resumed
! his sickle and walked slowly Off in an
other direction, buried in deep thought.
lie Whlstled no more, nor was his step as
light as before meeting Mary. He soon
reached his home, which was but hovel,
on the other side OF the bog from Mary'S
house. But though very small and
wretchedly poor III all its surroundings,
1t was as Spotlessly clean as the constant
turf smoke would allow it to be. A clear
turf fire blazed on the hearth, a row of
clean, shining plates adorned the dresser,
the floor was swept, the chairs and stools
all well rubbed-everything about the
little Kitchen bore evidence that the in
mate was a cleaner and tidier person than
the lower orders of Irish generally are
! When Ihady came in his mother was Sit
ting in wooden armchair beside the fire.
Her knitting lay in her lap and her head
leaned back upon the dresser behind her.
She slept, and the wan, white look on her
face struck terror to Thady'S heart.
He loved his mother dearly. They had
been all in all to each other for SO many
years, and the signs of age and falling
health which she had lately begun to
show grieved him intensely.
He stood for few minutes looking
sadly at the loved old face, with its deli
cate worn features and soft white hair
smoothly banded under her neat cap.
Her dress was very poor, but all clean
and tidy. She opened her eyes, and, see
ing Thady, smiled welcome.
rs that you, Thady? Sit down, avick,
and Fll wet the tay this minute The
kettles boilin', but l didn't expect ye so
SOON"
''The fields done, mother. We got it
all up to-day. But what's on ye? You
don't look well at all, at ALL"
Pm a bit donny, Thady, but not too
bad intirely. Pm thinkin' I'll live to see
ye bring young wife to miud me and
the house, and then I'll get bit rest be-
fore die"
AN deed an ye've earned it well,
mother. Up early and down late liver
since | knew you to keep me clane and
comfortable. My blessin' and Gods
blessin' go wild ye, mother, for all ye've
done for me all me life"
why, Thady, avick, what's on We at
all? Shure, why wouldn't 1 mind ye
well, and you all [ had in the world?
And now Pm gettin' ould shure you'i
mind me as long as God laves me in it,
and bury me dacent when | die along O.
your poor father"
81 will, mother. Pll niver lave We
while l live. pll shtand to We while |
have breath in me body, and I'll bury We
dacent II ye don't bury me first" And
the honest fellows eyes filed with
tears and his voice was hoarse with emo
ton.
Though but poor, uncouth Irish peas
ant, Thady's love for the mother who had
given him life and lived but for him was
as unseltish and chivalrous as though
that true heart beat beneath broadcloth
instead of fustian.
lie took the old woman's hand in his as
he spoke and felt that he had vowed a
solemn vow before God never to leave his
mother while she lived.
He was off early the next morning,
having engaged to work for farmer who
lived two or three miles away.
That day Edward Fitzgerald got his
lrst threatening letter, one of the usual
type--the inevitable deaths head and
crossbones at the top and coffin at the
end, all very rudely draWn-and badly
spelled lntlmation that if he did not ac-
cede to all his tenants demands he would
occupy the latter very speedily.
fitzgerald was fine, manly young fell
low of % or a, and would have liked
nothing better than to have faced his ten
ants slngIe-handed, trusting to his VIM
chester repeater ana his own unerring
aim as his whole protection. Alice, how
ever, prevailed upon him to apply for
police protection, on the plea that she felt
frightened and would feel happier if he
did So
The brother and sister had long talk
together on the subject of Thady Connor.
and they came to the same conclusion as
Mary had already done-i. e., that flight
was the only remedy in his case. They
agreed to help him in his passage out, and
to send Mary after him whenever she
wished. The poor old mother they both
felt to be the greatest difficulty in the
way, and Alice's kind heart bled for the
crueI parting inevitable between mother
and son. She walked over to their cot
tage, intending to try and see Thady
alone and talk it over with him, but, as
we know, he was absent.
was ono pT tboSa oaJ -,