Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 106 — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

i a ca a ce Shamus O’Brien. ~~~ oe She looked at Feakle in great curiosity to see | ‘‘Oh, no; I’m not sich a fool as to believe ‘ if he had been drinking, although the clerk was that!” he reassured; ‘‘I understand all about | ous damage than bruised bones, but his life had not in the habit of wasting much money in the | that. It was a foine thing on your part to | been at the mercy of the men whom he had so shebeens of the neighborhood. Her scrutiny | come forward to shield Miss Moore, or Mrs. 17 He had escaped so far without any more seri- cruelly persecuted, and the day might come was a fruitless one, for not a sign of drink could | Shamus O’Brien, to give her the name which no | when some of his victims would feel inclined to be detected in his person. tinued. for wit, or sinse, or good-breeding !”’ ‘“‘Isit drunk or mad ye are, Mickey Feakle, that ye do come here and be after talking like i Kitty demanded, in her indignant won- er _ “No, me darlint, I am not drunk, except wid your beauty; nor mad but wid love for yees!” the clerk declared, with an extravagant bow. At this declaration the Goose-girl completely lost all patience. She began to believe that the man was making game of her, and she grew hot with anger. ‘‘Take yourself out of this, pad luck to you, Mickey Feakle!” she cried, in the outburst of herrage. ‘‘I’ll not have you come here to be after poking fun at me! Be off wid you about your business and l’ave me to attend to mine.” ‘*Oh, tare and ounds! won’t you be afther hearing & man spake?” he rejoined, with an in- jured air. ** Do you suppose that I will be after standin here and let you make game of me?’ , ‘Is it me making game of ye?” ‘‘What else are ye doing, ye blathering baie y’ ‘¢ Be the holy smoke! I niver thought of such athing! It’s in earnest I am, entirely; I think that ye are not only the prettiest but the smart- est gurl that there is for miles around, and I’ve come a dale out of me way this morning just for the sake of having a few words wid yees; it’s a bit of advice that I’m afther.” “T’ll give you that in a breath—get out and never let me see the sight of your ugly face ain!” was the maid’s hearty retort. his was a hard thrust, and for a moment even Feakle with all his assurance was non- plused. He felt his anger rising and he longed to retaliate, but when he reflected how large the stake was for which he was playing, with a great effort he choked down his wrath and grinned good-naturedly in the face of the girl, whom, in his heart, he really longed to take by the throat and half-strangle. ‘‘ It is a foine sinse of humor ye have, Kitty, me jewel!” he continued. ‘‘ But ye can’t make me angry, no matter phat yesay. I have too high a respect for ye—l maysay—and upon me sowl itis the truth! I havetoo highanadmira- | tion for ye, for it is the sweetest, foinest gurl ye are that steps foot in shoe-leather this day in Connemara, and I hope that ye won’t be afther taking it amiss when I say that I, Mickey Feakle, love the very ground that ye tread on wid yer illigant brogues!” The girl, utterly astounded, forgot that she had the power of speech and only stared blank- ly into the face of the clerk. ‘‘Oh, I mane it,” he persisted, after a moment’s pause; ‘‘] mane every word of it. Itisas true as I stand here this minute; I wish I may die if it isn’t! I am not so young a man as I was once, I know, but I’m not old yet; I am good for thirty years more and mebbe forty, and whin I am mesilf, wid no care troubling me, I feel as young as a bye of twinty. I have been a careful, saving, prudent man, too, and it is a fine trifle that I have laid by ag’in’ ree and now that I am all ready tor it, I thin I had better settle down and take a wife.” ‘‘ A wife!” repeated the Goose-girl. ‘Vis, me jewel; a wife. It isa matter that I have long thought of; I have weighed the matter over carefully, as a man ought to do be- fore he takes so important a step, and I came to the conclusion that I might be afther search- ing all Ireland over widout finding a finer gurl than verself to make Mrs. Mickey Feakle.” » sir, you do me too much honor!” and Kitty dropped a low courtesy. For the moment the clerk, astute as he was, certainly was deceived. ie. ‘‘Oh, I know that ye’re not rich!” he went on. ‘It wasn’t riches that I was afther lookin’ for whin | fixed my eyes on you, darlint; it was yer own precious self. No,no,” he protest- ed, with perfect faith that his suit was progress- ing favorably, ‘It wasn’t money that I was afther. Thanks be to goodness I have enough for both of us.” , ' “That is very lucky, isn’t it?’ the girl ob- served, demurely. ‘It might be worse, me jewel; and now, since we understand each other, all you have to do is to name the day and I will speak to Father Ma- lone.” ‘“ Ah, but we don’t understand each other yet! Don’t be afther thinking that I am to be got so ‘aisily. Mind you now, youre not the only man in the country that has got eyes in his head—” ‘Oh, I know phat you mane!” he inter paeed “T know that obee thafe of the world Tom P fe35 © WMty husband!” eee ee | doubt belongs to her.” ‘“‘And a sinsible gurl ye are, too,” he con- | ‘* All the county goes bail on that. As I have often said, and I’ve always been ready | to back me words up, too, ye might look from | here to Dublin and not find a colleen to bate ye | ** And who has been telling you that I didn’t spake the truth?’ “Sorra a wan! I wanted no telling, shure! I can see as far into a mill-stoneas the man that | eg rag picked it.” ‘“You are too late, Mister Mickey Feakle!” the Goose-girl announced, decidedly. are two ahead of you; Tom Pepper is one and Lieutenant Smithers is another.’ push matters to extremities. The prisoner had been placed in the oldest and strongest cell beneath the hall, so that all at- tempts at escape or rescue would come to by so doing the captors unwit- tingly laced him in the very spot where he could hold communication with his friends “There | on the outside of the hall. Some years before theold lawyer had bought and taken possession of the property, the man- The clerk gaped in astonishment, and so sur- | sion had been but little better than a deserted prised was he that for a moment he forgot his | _ companions, had many a time payed in the de- ) customary caution. ‘“‘'The lieutenant!” he blurted out: “tare and ounds! I wonder if he knows—” and then, sud- | denly remembering that he was betraying him- | self, he stopped, abruptly, and in considerable | confusion. But he had said quite enough to excite the | heap of ruins, and, as a boy, O’Brien, with his serted chambers, and being a fearless lad he had pushed his researches clear into the un- derground vaults and there had made sundry discoveries, which, at this dreadful pinch in his fortune, seemed likely to be of service to him. He not only knew where he was but all girl’s suspicions. The words, few as they were, | bis Spe A EN and was not so much cast e gave her an inkling of the truth. suit had perplexed her; Feakle’s ardent wookng | added to the perplexity; but now she guesse at the truth. e gossips of the wif hicg had always predicted that someof old Sheelan’s | Smithers’s | down as to lose art or sleep. So, after the keeper’s withdrawal, he otpeed upon his couch of straw and was soon fast lock- ed in slumber’s chains, but ere long was awaken- ed by the sound of the rusty key turning in the wealth would one day come to light and the | lock of the dungeon door. girl, too, firmly believed it. ad been made probably by old O’Glory, for the lawyer was known to have a keen scent in such matters. In seme way the news had come to Smithers’s knowledge; also to the clerk; and both had set out to gain the golden prize. ‘Oho! it is an heiress I am, maybe!” she cried. ‘* But, whether or no, ! am not for you, Mister Mickey Feakle. Tell your master that I will talk with him, but I am no dumb baste to be sold to the first bidder!” Nothing now was left for the clerk but to do Miss Kitty’s bidding. CHAPTER XXvV, IN DUNGEON DARK, In a dungeon, cold and damp and drear, the prisoner had been cast. Within that low and dreadful cell the blessed light of day never came, but that the unfor- tunate wretch who might be unlucky enough to be confined within this terrible hole might not die outright for lack of air, high up in the wall a good-sized pipe ran from the cell to the outer world. The existence of this pipe was almost un- known to the present generation, for it was a relic of the dark ages, and even O’Glory him- self was entirely ignorant of this peculiar means of communication that existed between the cell and the outer air. Now this old pipe was destined to play a very in our ower true tale, as the reader will see anon. The cell was entirely without furniture, a single bundle of coarse straw cast down in one corner serving the prisoner both as a bed and a seat. A single hour’s confinement in such a terrible grave-like den was fully equal to a week’s de- tention in a modern, well-lighted prison, even to astrong, stalwart man, and had not O’Brien bore within his breast one of the stoutest of hearts he must have succumbed speedily to the awful terrors of his prison-house. Dooney MacDarrow had been intrusted with the care of the prisoner, for Burke conjectured rightly that, after what had passed between the process-server and the Bold Boys of the Moun- tains, O’Brien’s keeping could not be intrusted to a more vigilant or earnest foe. Dooney, accompanied by an old lantern, had come at regular intervals to supply the pris- oner with food and water. ‘* We don’t intend to let you starve, me laddy- buck,” he had announced to O’Brien, with a ferocious grin upon his ugly face. ‘‘ We wouldn’t be afther denying eurelven the pleasure of see- ing you stretch hemp and dance upon nothing, for the world. Oh, it’s a raree show it will be, the day of your hanging!” **It is well for you that the ‘ darbies’ are on my wrists,” the prisoner had remarked, refer- ring to the massive handcuffs that fettered his wrists, ‘“‘or else, Mr. Dooney MacDarrow, I would spare the hangman a job in your case.” And the process-server—whose bones had not yet forgotten the drubbing which they had re- ceived at the hands of the outlaw, stepped back in alarm. ** You'll not see me yen es murthering vil- lain, ye!” Dooney retorted, savagely. ‘Ye will not live to see me hanged! the rope is not spun that will choke me!” ‘Well, I guess that there is a good-deal of truth, in that,” O’Brien admitted, carelessly. ‘‘ Tt is not likely that you will die on the rope. Some des te b trouble of stringing you up. Your doom will be to die with a charge of buckshot in your head, shot from behind a hedge.” Dooney snarled out an angry reply and with- drew, feeling decidedly uncomfortable; he had a grim presentiment of the truth of the prison- er’s prophecy. That discovery | eee eee Sr a | in ee rate boy will save the hangman the | The door opened, and the old lawyer appear- ed, bearing a lantern in his hand, and behind him was the fair form of the heiress, Maggie Moore of Killkerran. O’Brien leaped at once in joy to his feet, and the instant she beheld him the girl rushed for- ward and threw herself on his breast in a tu- mult of happiness. 3 ie, dear, I cannot clasp my arms around you, because my wrists are fettered by handcuffs, and so, like the handle of a pump, the embracing will have to be all on one side!” He spoke ligbtly, yet the tones of his voice re- vealed how deep was the Joy that welled up in his heart at the presence of the girl. ‘‘Oh, Shamus, what a dreadful place!” she exclaimed, as she clung to his breast and gazed about her with staring eyes at the dark, dank prison walls. ‘*It isnota palace; but beggars mustn’t be choosers, you know.” ‘*But you will not have to remain here long now; the hour of escape is near at hand.” O’Brien looked at the girl in rise, then gazed at the old lawyer in a doubtful sort of ye He evidently distrusted O’Glory. t worthy understood the meaning of the look well enough and he hastened to set himself right. cs It’s all true, glory be!” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Iv- ery word of itis as true as that I am standing here this minute!” ‘Yes, Shamus; it is as Mr, O’Glory says: soon you will be a free man.” But O’Brien was not satisfied with the assur ance. pore ge please, how this is to be effected,” he said, quietly. ‘‘I confess I do not under- stand it at all. Iam in about as close quarters here as a man can well be, and I do not see how Lam going to get out. Then, too, Captain Des- mond Burke, who holds me prisoner, is not the kind of man likely to relax in his vigilance; and | he bears me a deadly hatred, too. I feel quite satisfied that there will not be any chance for me to escape while Desmond Burke is to the **Oh, Shamus, believe that love is more than a match for hatred!” the lady encouraged. * All is arranged, all accomplished; this very night with my own hand will I open your pris- on door and lead you forth to freedom, and then, when you are at liberty again, lose no time in escaping from this unfortunate land. Hasten with all speed across the sea to America that freely extends a welcoming hand to us r children ~f old Ireland. I will join you here as soon as I can arrange my affairs. I have confessed all to Mr. O’Glory, who is act- ing in this matter toward me with all a father’s kindness. I have told him of our secret mar- riage and the birth of our child, our little Sha- mus; he forgives us for actin opposition to his will and is now ready to do allin his power to aid us in this, our hour of direst extremity.” ‘Faith! and I will to the best of my ability!” the old lawyer declared, with an appearance of one honesty. ‘‘Shure! if I had only known t you two were so much in earnest about the matter, I wouldn’t have been afther laying the weight of a straw in your way; but r thought that tee love affair was only a boy and girl’s foolishness. I had no idea that yer hearts and souls were set on the match; but, glory be! it is not too late for me to do you a good turn. Be the powers! we’ll have Mister Shamus out . of this afore he is a day older, and thin the quicker be gets out of the country the betther it will be for him—for you—and in fact, for all of us, for of coorse there will be the divil’s own ruction kicked up about this escape, and it will not be an aisy thing for any of us to clear our shoulders of it. The government will be furi- e mind, for they do be having an idea eads that Mister Shamus here is wan Gomiic S ou s, do in their JOO) ee ee eee (Ee)