MARRIAGE BONDS; OR, CHRISTIAN HAZELL'S MARRIED LIFE.

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 234, 4 October 1888, Page 6

MARRIAGE BONDS; OR, CHRISTIAN HAZELL'S MARRIED LIFE.

By the Author of ' Hedged With Thorns.

CHAPTER VEJ

(Continued.)

1 That's first-rate pasture land,' observed Alick, pointing with his whip to an enormous level field on which a herd of cattle was feeding. ' There's not better grazing in the country than in that field.'

' Isn't there ?' answered Christian indifferently. ' But, Alick, do tell me what are those places I see wifch only ' two or three bare walls, and the roofs all broken in, and no glass in the windows. Did people ever live there?'

'Of course fchey did. Those were cabins, and swarms of dirty creatures used to herd in them, like pigs in a sty ; b ifc thank goodness they are all gone now—-emigrated most of them—and a good riddance of bad rubbish, I say. I wish every man Jack would follow their example, and leave us fche land for pasturage. It's thai that pays. I wonder how the Liverpool markets were this morning. By fche way, Peter, has Andy Moran gone yet ?'

' Faith he's not, sir ; I saw him 'ere yesterday.' 'He'll have to go. then ; I'm determined on that. I wrote and told him so. I won't have that great hulking fellow hatching mischief under my very nose. My poor father was always too soft; with him.-'

• I can't help thinking of those poor ragged little children I saw on fche road,' began Christian ; ' they are so different from our nice neat school-children at Barley Hill. Is there no one to bake an interest. in them ?'

' Bah !' cried Alick, ' you are mighty ignorant about Ireland. If you went to take an interest in those children, the priest would soon call cut that you were wanting to make Protestants of them. Ko.no! they are left to themselves; they go to the National Schools, which are under the priests, and they generally turn out to be as ■well worth hanging as their neighbours. The nearest gentleman's place is Desmondboro', four miles off, and you may answer for it Rose Desmond does not trouble her head about ragged children.' 'There is no village near Moynalty, I suppose?' 'Oh, yes—Shanogue, if you can call it a village. Our old" bachelor parson lives there, but the church is three miles off, at Comaderry. Is Mr Hswson at home, Peter V

' He was this mornin', but he was away ! to Ballintragee afore twelve o'clock.' 'He has not gob married yet?' ' Not he, sir ; he shakes too loose a leg for that; he's niver off his feet.' 'Now, Christian,' remarked Alick, as they turned into a by-road, ' you will soon be1 ab Moynalty. There ! just over those fir-trees you can see a bit of the old castle.' ' Castle ! you never told me there was a 'Didn't I? Well, there's only a part of one. It used to be a fortified place long ago, but it was set on fire in some of the old rebellions, and then the country people pulled it to pieces ; the front is still standing, however, and the walls, three or four feet thick. Peter, what used the old castlp to be called V llt had a name, yer honour, that mint the 'castle by the bioody strame,' and sure there was bloody work done in it, and signs on it! don't the spirits walk by night up and down the big stairs, and in and out of the windiea ?' 'Pish!' cried Alick; 'the stairs are all broken away.' If" the old ruin was mine I'd knock it down to-morrow, but Eustace wouldn't hear of such athing, and I couldn't do it unless he consented.' ' What things were done in the old castle, Peter?' asked Christian, who began to feel some interest in her future abode. 'Do you remember any ?' ' Well ! yez must know that one Sir Robert Hartpole wance owned the castle beyant, a big cruel villyan he was, strivin' to plundher iverything he could lay an eye upon. It wasn't plundherin' in a good dacent honest way, but it was layin' in wait for thini as couldn't help themselves and settin' fire to their houses, and murdherin' the widdy and the orphan, and they shriekin' and yellin' for marcy as loud as they could bawl. Well, Hartpole wance sint word to a holy praste, that was one of th' ancient ould family of the O'Mores, to come to him, and up conies the blessed father, not thinkin' ahaporth of harm, whin all of a suddint he was tould that yield up his life thin and there he surely must. *Come,' sez Hartpole to his comrades, •make haste and hang him up.' _ 'And will yez not give me time for a bit ova prayer ?' asks the praste. ' Well, go,' sez Hartpole,.' over to the corner there, and pray yer ould prayers if yez like.' Down wint the praste on the two knees ov him, and after awhile Hartpole got unaisy in his mind, and bid him git up. Wid that the holy father bowed him from lift to right, and from right to lift, and let three big screeches that yez might hear from this to Ratbcrogue. ' What, are fchiin for?' asks Hartpole. ' Yell do tho very same,' sez the praste, ' when yez come to die, and so will ivery wan of yer blood and yer bone. Yer race shall die out, yer lands shall go to other mm, and mind the three screeches that you and ivery Avan that is born ov you will give afore yez die.' And, sure, ivery word that the holy father said came to pass, and ivery Hartpole—for there's ne'er a wan left now—died wid the three screeches in their mouths.' ' That's a famous story for Father Dooly t<>- frighten you with, Peter,' said Alick, as he twitched a.ffy from the horse's head, and then muttered in an undertone, 'The old game ! anything to throw dirt on the Eng lish settlers, and- to glorify their own religion.' «But it's thrue, sir,' cried Peter; 'ivery word of it is as thrue as gospelA 'Oh, yes, of course; bub look up now, Christian, here we are,' and Alick turned off the road into a narrow avenue. * They passed .the iron gate and the lodge, and now, standing by some elm-trees, a little group was assembled. In the front there was a broad, gipsy-looking man with swarthy skin, coal-black eyes and hair, and a sullen, defiant expression in his face. He had a thick brown frieze coat, a black wideawake drawn closely, over his jetty eyebrows, and a stout knobbed stick in his hand. Plis deep chest and wide shoulders showed that he was equal for any fight or fiction, and he seemed as if he was well aware of his strength, and was sulkily proud of it. His companion was younger, more thickset, shorter, and less noteworthy in expression and features, but still with a strong general resemblance to the older man.' Behind him was a girl of about eighteen, with an odd black cloak thrown over her head ; she held the folds under her chin with one hand, and with the other she grasped a fat, bare-legged child. There was an unconscious grace in the attitude, and in their bright rosy cheeks and wild dark eyes there was a beauty akin to that of the heath-flower or the gorse-blossom. The two men touched their hats and muttered, 'Ye're welcome home, Mr Alick;' but Christian thought that in the face of the elder one there was more of a threatening than a greeting. She felt his keen, black eyes fixing themselves inquisitively upon her, and the gaze was so intense that she was considerably relieved when the gig moved op. After passing some low brushwood and a few trees the avenue came to

an abrupt turn ; the ground now opened ; on the left it sloped down in a steep incline, while on the right ifc kepb up and was hemmed by a thick hedge of laurels, interspersed with dark fir-trees. The next minute they were close under the grey buttresses of the old castle. It had two wings, one covered by a dense mass of ivy, the other grim and bare, hoary with many a storm. As Alick had said, no ruins could be seen in front;; there was no opening except a few loopholes here and there. An air of haughty nobility hung about; this old desolated relic of the past; it reminded one of a sightless Belisarius—of a dethroned, but not; quite unkinged, monarch. Moynalfcy Castle, however, had a companion which was utterly incongruous fco ifc, and which belonged to an entirely different; state of things. This was Moynalty dwelling house, an eighteenth-century edifice, which had been built almost into the old walls ; it was a tall, slim, ugly structure, wifch a fair supply of sash windows and a narrow porchless door. Everything about ib spoke of comparatively modern life, of modern life pinched out of all that was beautiful and attractive ; while everything about tho old castle spoke of ancient days, of troubled times, of skirmishes and sieges, of raids for plunder and victorious returns from battle. Moynalfcy Castle, joined on to its modem brother, looked like some grim, battered knight in armour, hand-in-hand wifch a slim apprentice boy in shabby George IV. dress. The apprentice boy seemed half-ashamed of himself, as though he had outstripped his strength and grown in height without growing in breadth. Christian gazed again and again on ths house and castle mated together in such ill-matched union ; there was. something sombre and gloom-inspiring about fche castle there was something weird and uncanny about the flat, bare house. A monthly rose-tree and a sapling of climafcis were doing their best to hang over the narrow door, but it was a dreary attempt; the rose had only a few puny "blooms; flowers did not seem to find congenial soil in such a spot. Beyond a tall, gaunt mountain with a number of knobby heads stretched along for some distance, and then swept down in a rapid, uneven descent;. A strange, sad, almost; deabhful silence brooded over everything. Tho water on the lake below seemed as if ib never stirred ; sometimes a heron fluttered among the wet rushes, and then silence again maintained its solitary reign. Christian's thoughts flew bad. to dear old English Barley Hill. Why, ifc was as like this as cheery, good-tempered Uncle John, with bis hands thrust in fche pockets of his grey shooting-coat, was to thafc swarthy fellow standing near the gate, who looked more like a Spanish brigand, with a history in his soul, than anyone else. The door was now opened by an old woman ; she had a black bonnet slouched over her eyes, and she stared suspiciously at the new-comers.

"Why, Molly,' cried Alick, ' didn't you expect us ?' ' Well, I did and I didn't. I thought maybe you'd stop in Dublin for a bit, to show it to the new mi-tress.'

' Then you thought nonsense,' replied Alick sharply. ' What is there to see there ? Nothing on earth. No, of course we came on here direct. Apd how are you getting on, Molly ? Haven't you a word of welcome for me, now that I'm coming back for good ?' 'In coorse I have,' answered Molly, ' bub yez took me all aback like. That yez may live long and die happy I pray Godthat is,' correcting herself, 'if yez have an ear to the cry of the poor.' ' I hope they'll have an ear to me, and do as I tell them,' replied Alick. ' But come, we are starving for something to eat; we have had nothing since eleven o'clock, and it is past five now. What have you got in the house, Molly?' ' There's bacon and eggs, and that's a'most all.'

' You might have killed a fowl or two.' 'Is it the'laying hens ? It's yourself that 'ud be down on me for that same, I'm thinkin'. Don't I mind what yez war afore ye wint away—in the ould masther's time ? and there's not much in the differ now, I'll go bail. Ye sint us word to have a beef killed, and to have the:big yellow chariot yoked up for yez, and thin a letter came to say we were to leave it all alone, and jist do notliin'.'

'I had my reasons for that,' muttered Alick.

' And so this is the new misfchress,'- remarked Molly; ' let us have a look at her.' And placing her bony fingers on Christian's arm she" led her to the window, and peered curiously into her face. 'She's not amiss,' she pronounced, after a long inspection. ' She's clane faytured and clane-skinned. Is she English—English all out, I mane ?' 'I believe I have some Irish or Scotch blood to boast of,' answered Christian.

' You don't know any differ between the two,' said Molly contemptuously. '.You'd as lief have the one as th' other.'

'No, no! I would not,' cried Christian, smilipg, 'because I am going to be a regular Irishwoman now.'

Molly's face softened. "'They tell me you've your weight of goulden guineas, she said. At this Alick started up.

'Don't stay jabbering your fool's nonsense there,' he cried angrily. 'Be off to the kitchen this minute, Molly, you old idiot, and tret us whatever there is to eat in the house.

'Not a step of mo will go,' answered Molly, determinedly, ' till ye tell me how Mr Eustace—God bless him!—gets his health. I havn't hard tell ov ridings of him this month of Sundays.'

' He's very well,' replied Alick. ' I rather think he asked for you the last time he wrote.'

'I'll go bail he did,' cried Molly, triumphantly. 'Sure he niver forgets me, more povver to him ! He has the good word ov ivery wan, man and baste ; and why wouldn't he whin he stands their frind, let who will be agin thim ?' Having delivered herself of this speech, Molly disappeared. ' I guessed how it would be,' muttered Alick to himself as he walked to the window ; ' I guessed that everybody would be asking ail sorts of questions about Christian's fortune. It makes one cursedly unpleasant; it is too provoking to think how that aunt of hers has behaved. And then it's a perfect marvel to me why the people will get into such absurd raptures about Eustace. I don't know what he does, for the life of me I don't. He is burlier and bigger'than I am, and he tries to make himself agreeable to every beggar-woman that comes in his way, and that's about all. I sent live pounds to Mr Hew-on only last Christmas to distribute among the poor ; I daresay Eustace doesn't do much more than that.'

Meanwhile Christian was sitting before some white wood-ashes that still remained in the cheerless grate. 'Do yon feel better, Chriseie?' asked Alick, suddenly looking round. 'Not tired now, are you .' ' No, not very—only rather cold.' «Cold 1' exclaimed Alick ; ' who would think of being cold at this time of year ?— just the first day of September.' That would be ridiculous indeed.' -Goino- to the front door, he looked out. 'I expect there will be rain to-morrow.' he said, when he came back ; * the clouds are fathering over the mountains.' 'Ah!' said Christian with a shiver, *I thought there was something in the air.' (To he Continued.)