The Ned M'Keown Stories. William Carleton
clanking, was distinctly heard to turn in from the road to Ned's door, where it stopped, and the next moment a loud knocking intimated the horseman's intention to enter. The company now looked at each other, as if uncertain what to do. Nancy herself grew pale, and, in the agitation of the moment, forgot to think of her protecting prayer. Biddy and Bessy Connolly started from the settle on which they had been sitting with their sweethearts, and sprung beside their uncle, on the hob. The stranger was still knocking with great violence, yet there was no disposition among the company to admit him, notwithstanding the severity of the night—blowing, as it really did, a perfect hurricane. At length a sheet of lightning flashed through the house, followed by an amazing loud clap of thunder; while, with a sudden push from without, the door gave way, and in stalked a personage Whose stature was at least six feet four, with dark eyes and complexion, and coal-black whiskers of an enormous size, the very image of the Squire they had been describing. He was dressed in a long black surtout, which him appear even taller than he actually was, had a pair of heavy boots upon and carried a tremendous whip, large enough to fell an ox. He was in a rage on entering; and the heavy, dark, close-knit-brows, from beneath which a pair of eyes, equally black, shot actual fire, whilst the Turk-like whiskers, which curled themselves up, as it were, in sympathy with his fury, joined to his towering height, gave him altogether, when we consider the frame of mind in which he found the company, an appalling and almost supernatural appearance.
“Confound you, for a knot of lazy scoundrels,” exclaimed the stranger, “why do you sit here so calmly, while any being craves admittance on such a night as this? Here, you lubber in the corner, with a pipe in your mouth, come and put up this horse of mine until the night settles.”
“May the blessed mother purtect us!” exclaimed Nancy, in a whisper, to Andy Morrow, “if I blieve he's a right thing!—would it be the ould Square? Did you ever set your eyes upon sich a”—
“Will you bestir yourself, you boor, and' not keep my horse and saddle out under such a torrent?” he cried, “otherwise I must only bring him into the house, and then you may say for once that you've had the devil under your roof.”
“Paddy Smith, you lazy spalpeen,” said Nancy, winking at Ned to have nothing to do with the horse, “why don't you fly and put up the gintleman's horse? And you, Atty, avourneen, jist go out with him, and hould the candle while he's doin' it: be quick now, and I'll give you glasses a-piece when you come in.”
“Let them put him up quickly; but I say, you Caliban,” added the stranger, addressing Smith, “don't be rash about him except you can bear fire and brimstone; get him, at all events, a good feed of oats. Poor Satan!” he continued, patting the horse's head, which was now within the door, “you've had a hard night of it, my poor Satan, as well as myself. That's my dark spirit—my brave chuck, that fears neither man nor devil.”
This language was by no means calculated to allay the suspicions of those who were present, particularly of Nancy and her two nieces. Ned sat in astonishment, with the pipe in his hand, which he had, in the surprise of the moment, taken from his mouth, his eyes fixed upon the stranger, and his mouth open. The latter noticed him, and stretching over the heads of the circle, tapped him on the shoulder with his whip:—
“I have a few words to say to you, sir,” he said.
“To me, your honor!” exclaimed Ned, without stirring, however.
“Yes,” replied the other, “but you seem to be fastened to your seat: come this way.”
“By all manner of manes, sir,” said Ned, starting up, and going over to the dresser, against which the stranger stood.
When the latter had got him there, he very coolly walked up, and secured Ned's comfortable seat on the hob, at the same time observing—
“You hadn't the manners to ask me to sit down; but I always make it a point of conscience to take care of myself, landlord.”
There was not a man about the fire who did not stand up, as if struck with a sudden recollection, and offer him a seat.
“No,” said he, “thank you, my good fellows, I am very well as it is: I suppose, mistress, you are the landlady,” addressing Nancy; “if you be, I'll thank you to bring me a gill of your best whiskey—your best, mind. Let it be as strong as an evil spirit let loose, and as hot as fire; for it can't be a jot too ardent such a night as this, for a being that rides the devil.”
Nancy started up instinctively, exclaiming, “Indeed, plase your honor's reverence, I am the landlady, as you say, sir, sure enough; but, the Lawk save and guard us! won't a gallon of raw whiskey be too much for one man to drink?”
“A gallon! I only said a gill, my good hostess; bring me a gill—but I forget—I believe you have no such measure in this country; bring me a pint, then.”
Nancy now went into the bar, whither she gave Ned a wink to follow her; and truly was glad of an opportunity of escaping from the presence of the visitor. When there, she ejaculated—
“May the holy Mother keep and guard us, Ned, but I'm afeard that's no Christian crathur, at all at all! Arrah, Ned, aroon, would he be that ould Square Grame, that Shane Fadh, maybe, angered, by spakin' of him?”
“Troth,” said Ned, “myself doesn't know what he is; he bates any mortal I ever seen.”
“Well, hould agra! I have it: we'll see whether he'll drink this or not, any how.”
“Why, what's that you're doin'?” asked Ned.
“Jist,” replied Nancy, “mixin' the smallest taste in the world of holy wather with the whiskey, and if he drinks that, you know he can be nothing that's bad.” *
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