The record-union., 1894-10-06

ludicrously pathetic lines OF an ailing ba-
boon, and whose restless, beady eyes
never looked the girl fairly in her own
stung her seeming imperturbable purpose
by reference to the lad she loved.
Its yer only rale friend L am, Eileen,
that's four year been waitin' Z give yez
th' chance o. yer life. I'lI hold yez it's
thrue Larry Dreen's been no comfort t.
yez in all that time. Isn't it on th batter
(tippling) he's been these last tin days, am
only this blissed day maxim love like
timpest Z livery girl at the Cachirsiyee
fair?''
Pm done wild Larry" she answered
slowly.
Her tone rather than her action told
what deep hurt was behind her words.
ss'Give me th' money, thin, fur th' ticket
T. take yez out!'
"I'll not. All, Dennis Fahy, it's as hard
as th' diviPs forehead yer are! pll 90 me
own way or stay"
"Arrah, avick dear, yen desthroy all
me grand plans 1ur yez intlrely. It's t
Killarney yez must 90, thin. There yell
git th' rail fur Mallow, an Cork, t th'
mkt staymer, wild tn other fine ladies
that's goin' out?" whined the little old
gnOme imploringly.
"Ull not"
'"rear an ages!" he fumed. But yer
th' great fool! 'Twud take a proper rise
out o yez 7 spake a soft word u your
fayther!'
1t was the direst threat the fellow could
make, and could see he was sure it would
! humble her.
"Th' veins o. me heart go wild yez in
in that, Dennis darlint!" she retorted
with contemptuous gurgle OF laughter.
"Eh?"
"Can yez swim, Dennis?"
'N-n-o, faith! AM fur what am fur
why?"
.,frbin ;tJS lost void no DorD;e f,,~ 10
praystlI shrive tn likes o. ye. At th'
first word ye uttered. Dennis, fayther'd
toss ye over th' cliff as aisy as stale fish
from th' schrahapv'
1t was Dennis who had been conquered,
and he now whiningly begged TO know
what she would do.
IT'S this i'll do,' she returned with an
impassiveness OF tone and manner from
which the miserable wrecker Of homes
apparently saw no appeal. "Go you to
th others an bid thin bide at Mallow
or Cork till l come. pll row TO Dingle
by night"
''By all th' saints, It's twinty milesn he
fumed and clustered again.
Saturday night twill be at th' turn o.
tn tide-thaps tin o'clock that night.
! THIN III walk on Sunday from Dingle to
Iralee. They'll not folly by water, an
| if they go slatherin' up the Killarney
road it's not trace of me they'll find, an
! thin they'll come powdhern back to Port
! Magee, whin pn be safe on nv way
! from Dingle to Tralee"
| The old wretch's face worked hideously
| for while. He seemed to fear ne would
at the last lose this one poor victim For
! years he had worked his merciless tolls
about her, as about others among the wilds
! of Iveragh.
bad cess t. th' diviPs own mess, am
| all th' trouble yer givin' me! But me
hearts achin' = see ye go where, in a
years time, yez can come back lady .
shame thin thaTd kape yez iver a
toilin' baste! Pll come am go wild yez T.
| Dingle.
The girl gave little start at this but did
| not oppose him.
TITS LAWN from th' Ould pier I'll be in
| tn little yawl. Ye'll not be late, Dennis
| Fahy? \ sorra hour for yez 'twould be
| ii yez were found behind at Port Ma
gee -
who's th' stranger that's come th'
| day? He looked me o'or uufriendly tip
morn whin l wor dodgin' yer father at
! CahirsiVeen.o
| The girl merely shook her head.
Thin YEN find a chance T. slip these in
his pockets if he bides tn full o. th' week.
It's interestin' raydin' they'll make whin
| on yer way L be a grand, fine lady acrass
tn say!'
Without a word she put in her bosom
some crumpled sheets of paper he had
handed her, and, stepping back among
the parted branches, was lost 10 sight.
This IS what l had seen and heard upon
the crag above the old fishing hamlet.
and this, with the appearance Of hand
some Eileen in the cabin and what the
evening had so startIin@ly evoked, is
what swept the tOrturous wTdiths through
nay halt-waklng dreams ali that long
unhappy night.
Npya,. bafora in a NV yt-oDC nrfpcr- !, Z
come to home or place where my own
| heart was SO desperately torn by conflict
ing emotions and resolves.
Should l ut once quit these somber
Kerry shores and let the miserable events
run their own cruel course? Should [
secretly charge Eileen with her purpose
and perhdy and beg her to turn back to
the loyalty and love of the little home?
Should l seek out Dennis Fahy and
trighten him from this innocent victim
of his remorselessneSs and iucOnceiVable
petty greed? Should | find Larry Dreen
aud make him know, if there was tender
ness left IN his reckless heart, of the great
prize which was irrevocably drifting out
of this humble port2 Should | confide
IN the mother and trust to the mother
heart and wit, as against the daughters
long-matured determination and strange
imperious nature? Or should I at once
with brutal frankueSS, reveal to my fisher
perhaps in the wild storm to see worse
come to the now sheltered home-nest
than the mere absence, through the hum
ger for better fortune, of one of the
strongest OF its rugged brood?
AS the week slipped by my mental anX-
iety became intense and almost insup-
portable. AS in a dream l seemed CON
scious OF the unconscious relation of each
active participant in some impending
tragedy. and yet apparently hopelessly
helpless to reach out hand or utter
word to stay its resistless and wofuI
finally.
Half idly my fisher friend and his com.
panions dallied with their long Iine''
fishing tasks, for the maCkerel fleets of
the year had winged their way to neigh
boring ports, to Mainland and to France.
Wholly idle and vagarous were Eileen
and /, in our pleasant voyages to Bray
Head; to Putin Island, where the myriad
seatowl whirl and shriek and drown.
even in dolorous weather, the hoarse raw
ingS of the sea; to hldeouS Lemon Rock:
to majestic Bolus Head, and to Great
Skellig, whose mighty crosses sentinel
the ghostly cells OF olden monks. All,
idle and resttul and sweet and still like a
dream, even III the evening OF that day
when the sun sank in bed of purpling,
misty gray, and the old fsh-wives of the
port struggling their shoulders with
weatherwise sweeps of their frowsy
heads, muttered OF ugly weather soon to
come.
Still like a dream, that evening meal,
delayed Tor the fathers white winged
smack beyond Bray Head; with the peat
flames leaping joyously in the cabin
chimney ana the purring homeside
sounds, and with no sign, bur of love and
trust and hope, on the NOBLE face of grave
Elleenl
Then, as / walked in the twilight, at
last the quick awakening and keen, swift
torture OF fatal delay, tor somewhere in
the rlna min foil