The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain: The Works of William Carleton, Volume OneCarleton, William
General
The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain: The Works of William Carleton, Volume One
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“And it's all right,” replied the other. “Well, as I was going to say,
that Mrs. Mainwaring is breakin' her heart about this unforthunate
marriage of her daughter to Scareman. It seems--but this is between
ourselves--it seems, my dear, that he's a dark, hard-hearted scrub,
that 'id go to hell or farther for a shillin', for a penny, ay, or for
a farden. An' the servant that was here afore me--a clean, good-natured
girl she was, in throth--an' got married to a blacksmith, at the
cross-roads beyant--tould me that the scrames, an' yells, an' howlins,
and roarins--the cursin' and blasphaymin'--an' the laughin', that she
said was worse than all--an' the rattlin' of chains--the Lord save
us--would make one think themselves more in hell than in any place upon
this world. And it appears the villain takes delight in it, an' makes
lashins of money by the trade.”
“The sorra give him good of it!” exclaimed Alley; “an' I can tell you,
it's Lady Lucy--(divil may care, thought she--I'll make a lady of her
at any rate--this ignorant creature doesn't know the differ) it's Lady
Lucy, I say, that will be sorry to hear of this same marriage--for you
must know--what's this your name is?”
“Nancy Gallaher, dear.”
“And were you ever married, Nancy?”
“If I wasn't the fau't was my own, ahagur! but I'll tell you more about
that some day. No, then, I was not, thank God!”
“Thank God! Well, throth, it's a quare thing to thank God for that,
at any rate.” This, of course, was parenthetical. “Well, my dear,”
proceeded Alley, “you must know that Mrs. Scareman before her
marriage--of course, she was then Miss Norton--acted in the kippacity of
tutherer general to Lady Lucy, except durin' three months that she was
ill, and had to go to England to thry the wathers.”
“What wathers?” asked Nancy. “Haven't we plenty o' wather, an' as good as
they have, at home?”
“Not at all,” replied Alley, who sometimes, as the reader may have
perceived, drew upon an imagination of no ordinary fertility; “in
England they have spakin' birds, singin' trees, and goolden wather. So,
as I was sayin', while she went to thry the goolden wather------”
“Troth, if ever I get poor health, I'll go there myself,” observed
Nancy, with a gleam of natural humor in her clear blue eye.”
“Well, while she went to thry this goolden watlier, her mother, Mrs.
Norton, came in her place as tutherer general, an' that's the way they
became acquainted--Lady Lucy and her. But, my dear, I want to tell you a
saicret.”
We are of opinion, that if Nancy's cap had been off at the moment, her
two ears might have been observed to erect themselves on each side of
her head with pure and unadulterated curiosity.
“Well, Miss Alley, what is it, ahagur?”
“Now, you won't breathe this to any human creature?”
“Is it me? Arrah! little you know the woman you're spakin' to. Divil
a mortal could beat me at keepin' a saicret, at any rate; an' when
you tell me this, maybe I'll let you know one or two that'll be worth
hearin'.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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