“Well now, Cannie,” said she, “what wonderful matter is this you have got to show me?”
“Here it is, Miss Julia,” said he, in his usual jocular and somewhat loud voice, “here it is, I'll have it in a minute—listed, Miss Julia,” he added, in a solemn and impressive undertone: “what I'm goin' to say is more to you than aither life or death. Don't go out by yourself—don't go at all out early in the morning or late in the evenin'.”
“Why so, Cannie?” she asked.
“Why, miss, it came to me by accident only; but the truth is there's a plot laid, it seems, to carry you off to the mountains.”
“By whom, Cannie?”
“That's the very thing, miss, that I don't know; but a strange man met me on my way here this mornin' and tould me that he was a friend to your father—who was wanst a friend to him—and that, if I'd see you, to put you on your guard against goin' either to the poor or sick at the hours I spoke of; and he bid me say, too, that there's bad work and thraichery about you—and by no manner o' means to go any distance from your father's house—ay, thraichery, an from them you'd never think o' suspectin' for it. Now, miss, keep this counsel to yourself, and don't say it was I that tould you, but as you love a fair name and an unblemished character, act upon it. Dang me,” he added, “but I had like to forget—if any message—I was bid to tell you—should come from Widow Lynch's, sayin' that her daughter's dyin' and wishes to see you, and that it's afther dusk it'll come—if it does come—well, if any sich message is sent to you, don't go—nor don't go for any message, no matther what it is—hem—ahem—oh! here I have it at last miss,” he exclaimed in his natural voice, “isn't that a beauty?”
Julia got as pale as death for a moment, and then her brow became crimson with indignation. In fact, she saw not his bracelet—nor heard what he said in praise of it; but after a little time she said, “Thank you, Cannie, most seriously do I thank you—and you may rest assured I shall faithfully follow your advice.”
“Do so, miss,” he replied, “so God bless you and take care of you! and that's the worst the rantin Cannie Soogah wishes you.”
Alick Purcel almost immediately joined the family in the parlor, to whom he related a full and somewhat ludicrous account of the seige of O'Driscol Castle, as he called it—or Nassau Lodge. As our readers, however, are already aware of the principal particulars of that attack, we shall only briefly recapitulate what they already know, and confine ourselves to merely one portion of it, in which portion our doughty and heroic friend, the magistrate, was most peculiarly concerned.
“Having tested the martial magistrate's courage,” he proceeded, “by a hint from Fergus, who was as much amused by it as I was, and finding that it was of the oozing or Bob Acres quality, we resolved, on hearing that the house was surrounded, to examine, and prime and load all the fire-arms in the house, as the case demanded. Some had been already loaded, but at all events we looked to them, and such as were uncharged we loaded on the spot, and then threw ourselves on the bed without undressing, in order that we might be ready for a surprise. Fergus and I, after having lain awake for a considerable time, taking it for granted that they had given up all intention of attacking the house, at length fell into a kind of wakeful doze from which we were at once aroused by a loud knocking at the hall-door. We quietly opened the drawing-room windows, and in a firm tone demanded what they wanted, and the answer was, that a friend of M'Carthy's wished very much to settle an account with him. We replied he was not in the house, and that even if he were, they should fight for him before they got him. We also told them our opinion of their conduct, and said, that if they did not leave the place, we would scatter the contents of a blunderbuss among them. I should state that they knew my voice, and said that they didn't want me then, but that my turn would come soon. When we had done speaking, a strong mellow voice, which I'll swear was not strange to me, said something to them in Irish, and the next moment the windows were shivered with bullets. Fortunately, we kept ourselves out of their range; but at all events, we had light enough to see them put their fire-arms to their shoulders, and time enough to stand aside. We returned the fire instantly, but whether with any fatal effect or not we could not say. When the smoke cleared away they had disappeared, but early this morning traces of blood were found on the spot. A servant of O'Driscol's, named Phil Hart, says they received no injury, for that he followed them at a distance up as far as Darby Hourigan's, near whose door they fired a couple of shots. Darby, it appears, joined Hart, having been aroused by the report of fire-arms; and both, on being discovered on their track, were fired at and wounded. Hart says it is his blood that is on the lawn, and perhaps it may be so, but I rather think the fellows did not escape scot-free at any rate.”