There was a general acquiescence. Joyce yielded himself, and said:—
“Let me thank ye, neighbours all, for yer kindness to me and mine this sorraful night. Well! I’ll say no more about that; but I’ll tell ye how it was that Murdock got me into his power. Ye know that boy of mine, Eugene?”
“Oh! and he’s the fine lad, God bless him! an’ the good lad too!”—this from the women.
“Well! ye know too that he got on so well whin I sint him to school that Dr. Walsh recommended me to make an ingineer of him. He said he had such promise that it was a pity not to see him get the right start in life, and he gave me, himself, a letther to Sir George Henshaw, the great ingineer. I wint and seen him, and he said he would take the boy. He tould me that there was a big fee to be paid, but I was not to throuble about that—at any rate, that he himself didn’t want any fee, and he would ask his partner if he would give up his share too. But the latther was hard up for money. He said he couldn’t give up all fee, but that he would take half the fee, provided it was paid down in dhry money. Well! the regular fee to the firm was five hundhred pounds, and as Sir George had giv up half an’ only half th’ other half was to be paid, that was possible. I hadn’t got more’n a few pounds by me—for what wid dhrainin’ and plantin’ and fencin’ and the payin’ the boy’s schoolin’, and the girl’s at the Nuns’ in Galway, it had put me to the pin iv me collar to find the money up to now. But I didn’t like to let the boy lose his chance in life for want of an effort, an’ I put me pride in me pocket an’ kem an’ asked Murdock for the money. He was very smooth an’ nice wid me—I know why now—an’ promised he would give it at wanst if I would give him security on me land. Sure he joked an’ laughed wid me, an’ was that cheerful that I didn’t misthrust him. He tould me it was only forrums I was signin’ that’d never be used”—— Here Dan Moriarty interrupted him:—
“What did ye sign, Phelim?”
“There wor two papers. Wan was a writin’ iv some kind, that in considheration iv the money lent an’ his own land—which I was to take over if the money wasn’t paid at the time appointed—he was to get me lease from me: an’ the other was a power of attorney to Enther Judgment for the amount if the money wasn’t paid at the right time. I thought I was all safe as I could repay him in the time named, an’ if the worst kem to the worst I might borry the money from some wan else—for the lease is worth the sum tin times over—an’ repay him. Well! what’s the use of lookin’ back, anyhow! I signed the papers—that was a year ago, an’ one week. An’ a week ago the time was up!” He gulped down a sob, and went on:—
“Well! ye all know the year gone has been a terrible bad wan, an’ as for me it was all I could do to hould on—to make up the money was impossible. Thrue the lad cost me next to nothin’, for he arned his keep be exthra work, an’ the girl, Norah, kem home from school and laboured wid me, an’ we saved every penny we could. But it was all no use!—we couldn’t get the money together anyhow. Thin we had the misfortin wid the cattle that ye all know of; an’ three horses, that I sould in Dublin, up an’ died before the time I guaranteed them free from sickness.” Here Andy struck in:—
“Thrue for ye! Sure there was some dhreadful disordher in Dublin among the horse cattle, intirely; an’ even Misther Docther Perfesshinal Ferguson himself couldn’t git undher it!” Joyce went on:—
“An’ as the time grew nigh I began to fear, but Murdock came down to see me whin I was alone, an’ tould me not to throuble about the money an’ not to mind about the sheriff, for he had to give him notice. ‘An’,’ says he, ‘I wouldn’t, if I was you, tell Norah anythin’ about it, for it might frighten the girl—for weemin is apt to take to heart things like that that’s only small things to min like us.‘ An’ so, God forgive me, I believed him; an’ I niver tould me child anything about it—even whin I got the notice from the sheriff. An’ whin the Notice tellin’ of the sale was posted up on me land, I tuk it down meself so that the poor child wouldn’t be frightened—God help me!” He broke down for a bit, but then went on:—
“But somehow I wasn’t asy in me mind, an’ whin the time iv the sale dhrew nigh I couldn’t keep it to meself any longer, an’ I tould Norah. That was only yisterday, and look at me to-day! Norah agreed wid me that we shouldn’t trust the Gombeen, an’ she sent me off to the Galway Bank to borry the money. She said I was an honest man an’ farmed me own land, and that the bank might lind the money on it. An’ sure enough whin I wint there this mornin’ be appointment, wid the Coadjuthor himself to inthroduce me, though he didn’t know why I wanted the money—that was Norah’s idea, and the Mother Superior settled it for her—the manager, who is a nice gintleman, tould me at wanst that I might have the money on me own note iv hand. I only gave him a formal writin’, an’ I took away the money. Here it is in me pocket in good notes; they’re wet wid the lake, but I’m thankful to say all safe. But it’s too late, God help me!” Here he broke down for a minute, but recovered himself with an effort:—