The lady M‘Carthy’s father was in such rejoicement to see his daughter, and she alive, that he forgave herself and the husband for the elopement. Didn’t the three of them go away home together and they the happiest people who were ever heard tell of in the world.
The Mad Pudding of Ballyboulteen.
By William Carleton (1794-1869).
“Moll Roe Rafferty, the daughter of ould Jack Rafferty, was a fine, young bouncin’ girl, large an’ lavish, wid a purty head of hair on her—scarlet—that bein’ one of the raisons why she was called Roe, or red; her arms and cheeks were much the colour of her hair, an’ her saddle nose was the purtiest thing of its kind that ever was on a face.
“Well, anyhow, it was Moll Rafferty that was the dilsy. It happened that there was a nate vagabone in the neighbourhood, just as much overburdened wid beauty as herself, and he was named Gusty Gillespie. Gusty was what they call a black-mouth Prosbytarian, and wouldn’t keep Christmas Day, except what they call ‘ould style.’ Gusty was rather good-lookin’, when seen in the dark, as well as Moll herself; anyhow, they got attached to each other, and in the end everything was arranged for their marriage.
“Now this was the first marriage that had happened for a long time in the neighbourhood between a Prodestant and a Catholic, and faix, there was of the bride’s uncles, ould Harry Connolly, a fairyman, who could cure all complaints wid a secret he had, and as he didn’t wish to see his niece married to sich a fellow, he fought bitterly against the match. All Moll’s friends, however, stood up for the marriage, barrin’ him, and, of coorse, the Sunday was appointed, as I said, that they were to be dove-tailed together.
“Well, the day arrived, and Moll, as became her, went to Mass, and Gusty to meeting, afther which they were to join one another in Jack Rafferty’s, where the priest, Father McSorley was to slip up afther Mass to take his dinner wid them, and to keep Mister McShuttle, who was to marry them, company. Nobody remained at home but ould Jack Rafferty an’ his wife, who stopped to dress for dinner, for, to tell the truth, it was to be a great let-out entirely. Maybe if all was known, too, Father McSorley was to give them a cast of his office over and above the ministher, in regard that Moll’s friends were not altogether satisfied at the kind of marriage which McShuttle could give them. The sorrow may care about that—splice here, splice there—all I can say is that when Mrs. Rafferty was goin’ to tie up a big bag pudden, in walks Harry Connolly, the fairyman, in a rage, and shouts, ‘Blood and blunder-bushes, what are yez here for?’