“From Bray.”
“And what news?”
“Great news and bad for Old Nick, or some belonging to him, thanks be to Heaven! for myself hates him.”
“What’s happened him?”
“His sister’s husband that’s failed, the great grocer that was, the man that had the wife that ow’d[7] the fine house near Bray, that they got that time the parliament flitted, and that I seen in her carriage flaming—well, it’s all out; they’re all done up.”
“Tut! is that all? then they’ll thrive, and set up again grander than ever, I’ll engage: have not they Old Nick for an attorney at their back? a good warrant?”
“Oh, trust him for that! he won’t go security, nor pay a farthing, for his shister, nor wouldn’t, was she his father; I heard him telling her so, which I could not have done in his place, at that time, and she crying as if her heart would break, and I standing by in the parlour.”
“The neger[8]! And did he speak that way, and you by?”
“Ay, did he; and said, ‘Mrs. Raffarty,’ says he, ‘it’s all your own fault; you’re an extravagant fool, and ever was, and I wash my hands of you.’ that was the word he spoke; and she answered, and said, ‘And mayn’t I send the beds and blankets?’ said she, ‘and what I can, by the cars, out of the way of the creditors, to Clonbrony Castle? and won’t you let me hide there, from the shame, till the bustle’s over?’ ‘You may do that,’ says he, ‘for what I care; but remember,’ says he, ‘that I’ve the first claim to them goods;’ and that’s all he would grant. So they are coming down all o’ Monday—them are the band-boxes, and all—to settle it; and faith it was a pity of her! to hear her sobbing, and to see her own brother speak and look so hard! and she a lady.”
“Sure, she’s not a lady born, no more than himself,” said Larry; “but that’s no excuse for him. His heart’s as hard as that stone,” said Larry; “and my own people knew that long ago, and now his own know it: and what right have we to complain, since he’s as bad to his own flesh and blood as to us?”