“What!” I exclaimed, “is there a person such as you describe wanting to marry my mother?”
“Well, that’s the plain matter of fact,” answered Mrs Fowler; “and what is more he swears he will have her. He has come all the way over from Ireland, and is not going back nonplussed.”
I was greatly concerned at hearing this, for although, had my mother wished to marry again, I should have been very thankful if she could have found a suitable protector, yet I was sure that such a person as Mrs Fowler described would make her miserable. There was another person I was longing to ask about, but I own, from a somewhat different feeling, I hesitated. “And Miss Emily?” I asked at length, trying to get out of the light of the candle as I spoke. “How is she?”
“Oh! She is the light of the house—the most beautifullest and brightest little creature you ever did see,” answered Mrs Fowler, with enthusiasm. “Whether she’s the captain’s daughter, or anybody else’s daughter, it does not matter to me, but I know she is a blessing to all around her.”
“Thank you, Mrs Fowler, thank you,” I answered, scarcely knowing what I said. “I am anxious to see my mother. Take care of my chest; I will take my bag with me.” Saying this, I darted out of the house and hurried down the lane. I well knew how delighted my mother would be to see me, and I had an undefined feeling that the sooner I could be with her the better. Passing through the wicket I found the house-door partly open, and heard a voice proceeding from the back parlour. It was a somewhat loud one too:
“Oh! Mistress Burthen! Mistress Burthen! Ye will be after breaking my heart, ye will; and me waiting for you these long years, and now at last come all the way over from old Ireland to find ye as hard and obdurate as the blacksmith’s anvil in the corner of Saint Patrick’s street, in Ballybruree,” were the first words that caught my ear. “Shure you will be afther relenting and not laving me a disconsolate widower, to go back to Ballyswiggan all alone by myself.”
“Indeed, Mr Gillooly, I feel that your constancy—your pertinacity shall I call it?” and there was a slight touch of sarcasm in the voice,—it was my mother who spoke, “deserves to be rewarded; but at the same time I confess that I cannot bring myself to undertake to recompense you as you desire. All I can do is to give you my best advice, and that is to try and find some other lady who is more disposed to receive your addresses than I am.”
I did not wish to be an eaves-dropper, and at the same time I scarcely liked suddenly to rush unnoticed into the room. Old Mrs Schank would, I concluded, be in the front parlour, and perhaps Emily might be with her, and I would ask her to break my arrival to my mother. Again Mr Gillooly pleaded his cause. I began to fancy, from the tone of my mother’s voice and the answers she made, that she was somewhat relenting. I knew enough of the world to be aware that even sensible people sometimes marry against their convictions, and I thought it was now high time for me to interfere. Just then I heard my mother exclaim:
“Who’s that? I saw someone at the window. It is impossible; yet— Oh! Mr Gillooly, you are very kind, you are very generous, but I cannot, I cannot marry you. After what I have just now seen, it is impossible!”
“It’s on my knees, then, I implore you, widow Burthen!” exclaimed Mr Gillooly. “Oh! Say, would you render me a desperate man and send me forth to join the Ribbonmen, or Green Boys, or other rebels against King George? It’s afther killing me ye’ll be by your cruelty; and it’s more than Jim Gillooly can stand, or has stood in his life, and so by the powers, Mistress Gillooly, you shall be, in spite of your prothestations and assartions, and—”