Felix, who understood the sister's irony, went out on every such, occasion with perfect good will, and indulged in an uncontrollable fit of laughter at her masked attack upon his brother.
No sooner was he gone than Hugh either fled at once, or gathered himself up against the vehement assault he knew she was about to make upon him.
“Why then, Hugh O'Donnell, ar'n't you a dirty, black bodagh, to go to open upon the poor boy for no reason in life? What did he do that you should abuse him, you nager you? and it's well known that you're a nager, and that your heart's in the shillin'. Oh! it's long before you'd go to fair or market and bring home the best gown, or shawl, or mantle in it to the only sister you have, as he does. Ay, ar'n't you the cream of a dirty, black bodagh, for to go to attack the poor boy only for speaking to a dacent and a purty girl that hasn't a stain upon her name, or upon the name of one of her seed, breed, or generation, you miserly nager. I wouldn't say that before him, because I want to keep him under me; but where, I say, could you get so fine a young slip as poor Felix is'? My soul to the dev—God pardon me! I was going to say what I oughtn't to say: but I tell you, Hugh, that you must quit of it; he's the only brother we have, and it's the least we should be kind to him.”
During this harangue poor Hugh's flush of passion usually departed from him. As we said, he loved his only brother; and so vivid were Maura's representations of his virtues, that Hugh, his passion having subsided, was usually borne away by the pathos with which she closed her observations respecting him. A burst of tears always concluded the dialogue on her part, and deep regret on the part of Hugh; for, in fact, the charges against Felix were such only as none except they themselves in the very exuberance of their affection, would think of bringing against him.
The reader is already acquainted with the allusion made by Maura to the “dacent and purty girl that hasn't a stain upon her name, or upon the name of one of her seed, breed, or generation.” This “purty” girl is no other than Alley Bawn Murray; and although Maura, from a sheer spirit of contradiction, spoke of her to Hugh in a favorable point of view, yet nothing could be more obstinately bitter than her opposition to such a match on the part of Felix.
This, however, is human nature. To those who cannot understand such a character, we offer no apology—to the few who do, none is necessary.
The courtship of Alley Bawn and Felix had arrived, on the fair-day of Ballaghmore, to a crisis which required decision on the part of the wooer. They went in, as we have shown the reader, to a public-house. Their conversation, which was only such as takes place in a thousand similar instances, we do not mean to detail. It was tender and firm on the part of Felix, and affectionate between him and her. With that high pride, which is only another name for humility, she urged him to forget her, “if it was not plasin' to his frinds. You know, Felix,” she continued, “that I am poor and you are rich, an' I wouldn't wish to be dragged into a family that couldn't respect me.”
“Alley dear,” replied Felix, “I know that both Hugh and Maura love me in their hearts; and although they make a show of anger in the beginnin', yet they'll soon soften, and will love you as they do me.”
“Well, Felix,” replied Alley, “my mother and you are present; if my mother says I ought——”
“I do, darling,” said her mother; “that is, I can't feel any particular objection to it. Yet somehow my mind is troubled. I know that what he says is what will happen; but, for all that—och, Felix, aroon, there's something over me about the same match—I don't know—I'm willin' an' I'm not willin'.”