The Kellys and the O'Kellys

tel, before they went up to dress for dinner. Walter Blake was an effeminate-looking, slight-made man, about thirty or thirty-three years of age; good looking, and gentlemanlike, but presentin

‘arly before he’d come round him. Well, after a little, the ould chap came to me one morning, and asked me all manner of questions whether I knew Anty Lynch? whether we didn’t used to be great friends? and a lot more. I never minded him much; for though I and Anty used to speak, and she’d dhrank tay on the sly with us two or three times before her father’s death, I’d never thought much about her.’‘Nor wouldn’t now, Martin, eh? if it wasn’t for the old man’s will.’‘In course I wouldn’t, my lord. I won’t be denying it. But, on the other hand, I wouldn’t marry her now for all her money, av’ I didn’t mane to trate her well. Well, my lord, after beating about the bush for a long time, the ould thief popped it out, and told me that he thought Anty’d be all the betther for a husband; and that, av’ I was wanting a wife, he b’lieved I might suit myself now. Well, I thought of it a little, and tould him I’d take the hint. The next day he comes to me again, all the way down to Toneroe, where I was walking the big grass-field by myself, and began saying that, as he was Anty’s agent, of course he wouldn’t see her wronged. “Quite right, Mr. Moylan,” says I; “and, as I maneto be her husband, I won’t see her wronged neither.” “Ah! but,” says he, “I mane that I must see her property properly settled.” “Why not?” says I, “and isn’t the best way for her to marry? and then, you know, no one can schame her out of it. There’s lots of them schamers about now,” says I. “That’s thrue for you,” says he, “and they’re not far to look for,” and that was thrue, too, my lord, for he and I were both schaming about poor Anty’s money at that moment. “Well,” says he, afther walking on a little, quite quiet, “av’ you war to marry her.”-” Oh, I’ve made up my mind about that, Mr. Moylan,” says I. “Well, av’ it should come to pass that you do marry her-of course you’d expect to have the money settled on herself?” “In course I would, when I die,” says I. “No, but,” says he, “at once: wouldn’t it be enough for you to have a warm roof over your head, and a leg of mutton on the table every day, and no work to do for it?” and so, my lord, it came out that the money was to be settled on herself, and that he was to be her agent.’‘Well, Martin, after that, I think you needn’t go to Sim Lynch, or Barry, for the biggest rogues in Connaught to be settling the poor girl’s money between you that way!’‘Well, but listen, my lord. I gave in to the ould man; that is, I made no objection to his schame. But I was determined, av’ I ever did marry Anty Lynch, that I would be agent and owner too, myself, as long as I lived; though in course it was but right that they should settle it so that av’ I died first, the poor crature shouldn’t be out of her money. But I didn’t let on to him about all that; for, av’ he was angered, the ould fool might perhaps spoil the game; and I knew av’ Anty married me at all, it’d be for liking; and av’ iver I got on the soft side of her, I’d soon be able to manage matthers as I plazed, and ould Moylan’d soon find his best game’d be to go asy.’‘Upon my soul, Martin, I think you seem to have been the sharpest rogue of the two! Is there an honest man in Connaught at all, I wonder?’‘I can’t say rightly, just at present, my lord; but there’ll be two, plaze God, when I and your lordship are there.’‘Thank ye, Kelly, for the compliment, and especially for the good company. But let me hear how on earth you ever got face enough to go up and ask Anty Lynch to marry you.’‘Oh! a little soft sawther did it! I wasn’t long in putting my com’ether on her when I once began. Well, my lord, from that day out from afther Moylan’s visit, you know I began really to think of it. I’m sure the ould robber meant to have asked for a wapping sum of money down, for his good will in the bargain; but when he saw me he got afeard.’‘He was another honest man, just now!’‘Only among sthrangers, my lord. I b’lieve he’s a far-off cousin of your own, and I wouldn’t like to spake ill of the blood.’‘God forbid! But go on, Kelly.’‘Well, so, from that out, I began to think of it in arnest the Lord forgive me! but my first thoughts was how I’d like to pull down Barry Lynch; and my second that I’d not demane myself by marrying the sisther of such an out-and-out ruffian, and that it wouldn’t become me to live on the money that’d been got by chating your lordship’s grandfather.’‘My lordship’s grandfather ought to have looked after that himself. If those are all your scruples they needn’t stick in your throat much.’‘I said as much as that to myself, too. So I soon went to work. I was rather shy about it at first; but the girls helped me. They put it into her head, I think, before I mentioned it at all. However, by degrees, I asked her plump, whether she’d any mind to be Mrs. Kelly? and, though she didn’t say “yes,” she didn’t say “no.”’‘But how the devil, man, did you manage to get at her? I’m told Barry watches her like a dragon, ever since he read his father’s will.’‘He couldn’t watch her so close, but what she could make her way down to mother’s shop now and again. Or, for the matter of that, but what I could make my way up to the house.’‘That’s true, for what need she mind Barry, now? She may marry whom she pleases, and needn’t tell him, unless she likes, until the priest has his book ready.’‘Ah, my lord! but there’s the rub. She is afraid of Barry; and though she didn’t say so, she won’t agree to tell him, or to let me tell him, or just to let the priest walk into the house without telling him. She’s fond of Barry, though, for the life of me, I can’t see what there is in him for anybody to be fond of. He and his father led her the divil’s own life mewed up there, because she wouldn’t be a nun. But still is both fond and afraid of him; and, though I don’t think she’ll marry anybody else at laist not yet awhile, I don’t think she’ll ever get courage to marry me at any rate, not in the ordinary way.’‘Why then, Martin, you must do something extraordinary, I suppose.’‘That’s just it, my lord; and what I wanted was, to ask your lordship’s advice and sanction, like.’‘Sanction! Why I shouldn’t think you’d want anybody’s sanction for marrying a wife with four hundred a-year. But, if that’s anything to you, I can assure you I approve of it.’‘Thank you, my lord. That’s kind.’‘To tell the truth,’ continued Lord Ballindine, ‘I’ve a little of your own first feeling. I’d be glad of it, if it were only for the rise it would take out of my schoolfellow, Barry. Not but that I think you’re a deal too good to be his brother-inlaw. And you know, Kelly, or ought to know, that I’d be heartily glad of anything for your own welfare. So, I’d advise you to hammer away while the iron’s hot, as the saying is.’‘That’s just what I’m coming to. What’d your lordship advise me to do?’‘Advise you? Why, you must know best yourself how the matter stands. Talk her over, and make her tell Barry.’‘Divil a tell, my lord, in her. She wouldn’t do it in a month of Sundays.’‘Then do you tell him, at once. I suppose you’re not afraid of him?’‘She’d niver come to the scratch, av’ I did. He’d bully the life out of her, or get her out of the counthry some way.’‘Then wait till his back’s turned for a month or so. When he’s out, let the priest walk in, and do the matter quietly that way.’‘Well, I thought of that myself, my lord; but he’s as wary as a weazel, and I’m afeard he smells something in the wind. There’s that blackguard Moylan, too, he’d be telling Barry and would, when he came to find things weren’t to be settled as he intended.’‘Then you must carry her off, and marry her up here, or in Galway or down in Connemara, or over at Liverpool, or any where you please.’‘Now you’ve hit it, my lord. That’s just what I’m thinking myself. Unless I take her off Gretna Green fashion, I’ll never get her.’‘Then why do you want my advice, if you’ve made up your mind to that? I think you’re quite right; and what’s more, I think you ought to lose no time in doing it. Will she go, do you think?’‘Why, with a little talking, I think she will.’‘Then what are you losing your time for, man? Hurry down, and off with her! I think Dublin’s probably your best ground.’‘Then you think, my lord, I’d betther do it at once?’‘Of course, I do! What is there to delay you?’‘Why, you see, my lord, the poor girl’s as good as got no friends, and I wouldn’t like it to be thought in the counthry, I’d taken her at a disadvantage. It’s thrue enough in one way, I’m marrying her for the money; that is, in course, I wouldn’t marry her without it. And I tould her, out open, before her face, and before the girls, that, av’ she’d ten times as much, I wouldn’t marry her unless I was to be masther, as long as I lived, of everything in my own house, like another man; and I think she liked me the betther for it. But, for all that, I wouldn’t like to catch her up without having something fair done by the property.’‘The lawyers, Martin, can manage that, afterwards. When she’s once Mrs Kelly, you can do what you like about the fortune.’‘That’s thrue, my lord. But I wouldn’t like the bad name I’d get through the counthry av’ I whisked her off without letting her settle anything. They’d he saying I robbed her, whether I did or no: and when a thing’s once said, it’s difficult to unsay it. The like of me, my lord, can’t do things like you noblemen and gentry. Besides, mother’d never forgive me. They think, down there, that poor Anty’s simple like; tho’ she’s cute enough, av’ they knew her. I wouldn’t, for all the money, wish it should be said that Martin Kelly ran off with a fool, and robbed her. Barry’d be making her out a dale more simple than she is; and, altogether, my lord, I wouldn’t like it.’‘Well, Martin, perhaps you’re right. At any rate you’re on the right side. What is it then you think of doing?’‘Why, I was thinking, my lord, av’ I could get some lawyer here to draw up a deed, just settling all Anty’s property on herself when I die, and on her children, av’ she has any so that I couldn’t spend it you know; she could sign it, and so could I, before we started; and then I’d feel she’d been traited as well as tho’ she’d all the friends in Connaught to her back.’‘And a great deal better, probably. Well, Martin, I’m no lawyer, but I should think there’d not be much difficulty about that.