“It's not aisy to do that, sir,” she replied with a faint smile, for as she spoke, his servant had the cloak already about her shoulders; “it appears,” she continued, “that this kind woman must have her will and way in everything.”
“To be sure I will,” said Katty, “espishially in everything that's right, any how—come here now, and while his reverence is getting his staff and mittens in the room above, I'll help you on with the shoes and stockings. Now,” she added, in one of those touching and irresistible whispers that are produced by kindness and not by secrecy, “if anything happens—as God forbid there should—but if anything does happen, keep these till afther everything is over. Before strangers you know one wouldn't like to appear too bare, if they could help it.”
The tone in which these words were spoke could not fail in at once reaching the poor woman's heart. She wept as much from gratitude as the gloomy alternative involved in Katty's benevolent offer.
“God bless you,” she exclaimed, “but I trust in the Almighty, there may be hope and that they won't be wanted. Still, how can I hope when I think of the way he's in? But God is good, blessed be his holy name!”
So saying, the priest came down,and they both set out on their bleak and desolate journey.
The natural aspect of the surrounding country was in good keeping with the wild and stormy character of the morning. Before them, in the back ground, rose a magnificent range of mountains, whose snowy peaks were occasionally seen far above the dusky clouds which drifted rapidly across their bosoms. The whole landscape, in fact, teemed with a spirit of savage grandeur. Many of the glens on each side were deep and precipitous, where rock beetled over rock, and ledge projected over ledge, in a manner so fearful that the mind of the spectator, excited and rapt into terror by the contemplation of them, wondered why they did not long ago tumble into the chasm beneath, so slight was their apparent support. Even in the mildest, seasons desolation brooded over the lesser hills and mountains about them; what then must it not have been at the period we are describing? From a hill a little to the right, over which they had to pass, a precipitous headland was visible, against which the mighty heavings of the ocean could be heard hoarsely thundering at a distance, and the giant billows, in periods of storm and tempest, seen shivering themselves into white; foam that rose nearly to the summit of their immovable barriers.
Such was the toilsome country over which our two travellers had to pass.
It was not without difficulty and fatigue that the priest and his companion wended their way towards one of the moors we have, mentioned. The snow beat against them with great violence, sometimes rendering it almost impossible for them to keep their eyes open or to see their proper path across the hills. The woman, however, trod her way instinctively, and whilst the, priest aided her by his superior strength, she in return guided him by a clearer sagacity. Neither spoke much, for in truth each had enough to do in combating with the toil and peril of the journey, as well as in thinking of the melancholy scene to which they were hastening. Words of consolation and comfort he did from time to time utter; but he felt that his situation was one of difficulty. To inspire hope where there was probably no hope, might be only to deepen her affliction; and, on the other hand, to weigh down a heart already heavy laden by unnecessarily adding one gloomy forboding to its burthen, was not in his nature. Such comfort as he could give without bearing too strongly upon either her hopes or her fears he did give; and we do not think that an apostle, had he been in his place, could or ought to have done more.
They had now arrived within half a mile of the moor, when they felt themselves overtaken by a man whose figure was of a very singular and startling description, being apparently as wild and untamed as the barren waste on which he made his appearance. He was actually two or three inches above the common height, but in addition to this fact, and as if not satisfied with it, he wore three hats, one sheathed a little into the other, so that they could not readily separate, and the under one he kept always fastened to his head, in order to prevent the whole pyramid from falling off. His person seemed to gain still greater height from the circumstance of his wearing a long surtout that reached to his heels, and which he kept constantly buttoned closely about him. His feet were cased in a tight pair of leather buskins, for it was one of his singularities that he could endure neither boot nor shoe, and he always wore a glove of some kind on his left hand, but never any on his right. His features might be termed regular, even handsome; and his eyes were absolutely brilliant, yet, notwithstanding this, it was impossible to look for a moment upon his tout ensemble without perceiving that that spirit which stamps the impress of reason and intellect upon the human countenance, was not visible in his. Like a new and well-proportioned house which had never been occupied, everything seemed externally regular and perfect, whilst it was evident by its still and lonely character, as contrasted with the busy marks of on-going life in those around it, that it was void and without an inhabitant.
Like many others of his unhappy class, Poll Doolin's son, “Raymond-na-hattha,” for it was he, and so had he been nick-named, in consequence of his wearing such a number of hats, had a remarkable mixture of humor, simplicity, and cunning. He entertained a great penchant, or rather a passion for cock-fighting, and on the present occasion carried a game one under his arm. Throughout the country no man possessed a bird of that species, with whose pedigree he was not thoroughly acquainted; and, truth to tell, he proved himself as great a thief as he was a genealogist among them. Many a time the unfortunate foxes from some neighboring cover were cursed and banned, when, if the truth had been known, the only fox that despoiled the roost was Raymond-na-hattha. One thing, however, was certain, that unless the cock was thoroughly game he might enjoy his liberty and ease long enough without molestation from Raymond. We had well nigh forgotten to say that he wore on the right side of his topmost hat a cockade of yellow cloth, from which two or three ribbons of a scarlet color fluttered down to his shoulder, a bit of vanity which added very much to the fantastic nature of his general costume.