CHAPTER V. NEWSPAPERS AND A DRAGGING HOME. And such paragraphs in the newspapers. O'Roarke's noble feast will ne'er be forgot, The Rivals. By those that were there, and by those that were not. Old Ballad. AFTER my mother's marriage she accompanied my father to Ireland. They delayed a few weeks in Edinburgh, under the plea of seeing that ancient and interesting city, but in reality, from a hope that some channel for a reconciliation might open between Ellen and her irritated parent. Probably the wish expressed by the latter, that a certificate of his daughter's marriage should be transmitted, encouraged this expectation. The major accordingly obeyed his wishes; and in forwarding a document from the celebrated artist of Gretna, enclosed it in a manly and respectful letter from himself, in which he requested to be forgiven for the step he had taken. Poor Ellen also accompanied her husband's epistle with a strong appeal to the feelings of her father. In due course of post the receipt of the certificate was formally acknowledged by Mr. Harrison, the soldier's letter totally unnoticed, and his lady's returned with an unbroken seal. This latter circumstance the major concealed from his gentle bride, who was already suffering under the effects of parental displeasure. In all besides, Ellen was truly happy. Her's was a heart formed for a tender and undying attachment. Before she wedded, she loved her husband with girlish romance, but now she idolized him as woman will, when she turns the undivided affections of a warm heart upon one sole and cherished object. Without a murmur she prepared to leave her native land; and strong in all-confiding love, consigned every hope of happiness to one comparatively a stranger. While on the evening preceding their embarkation, he pictured the lonely spot on which the house of his fathers stood; while he described rude hills and savage scenery, and a wild population professing another faith, and speaking a different tongue-" And wilt thou venture thither, Ellen?" Clasping him in her arms, she turned her soft expressive eyes on his, as she repeated the beautiful passage from Scrip ture: 66 Whither thou goest I will go. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God!" The reception my mother met from my father's family was as enthusiastic as she could have anticipated. Before the gallant Cæsar had even intimated to his brother, as "head of the house," any intention upon his part of committing matrimony, the English newspapers teemed with an account of his elopement with "the beautiful heiress of the wealthy Mr. Harrison." The singular cause that induced him to retire from his regiment was still fresh in public recollection, and the absurd manner in which these two exploits were ridiculously coupled in the same paragraphs was indeed provoking enough. The Morning Post thus announced my father's marriage: 66 Major C-s-r B-ke, who, it will be remembered, abruptly retired from the 18th some months since, for stopping up a chimney-flue, by which two persons were unfortunately suffocated, passed through Carlisle on Sunday last, in a carriage-and-four, accompanied by the beautiful heiress of Stainsbury Hall. No pursuit after the fugitives was attempted, as Mr. H-rr-n lies without the least hope of recovery, from a wound of a pistol ball received in the unfortunate mêlée that occurred on the recent occasion. The report that two keepers and the major's servant are dead, is, at least, premature. Of the recovery of one of the former we know that sanguine hopes are entertained." The Morning Chronicle thus delivered itself : We have often to lament the culpable inaccuracy of some, of our contemporaries. In a morning journal of yesterday, a very imperfect statement is given of a recent occurrence in high life, of which we have been in full possession, but which, through delicacy to the feelings of the parties concerned, we have abstained from noticing. It will be a subject of gratification to the numerous and distinguished connexions of "both the houses," to learn that Mr. H- -n, whose leg it was found necessary to amputate above the knee, bore the operation well; and that the gallant ex-major, after having the ball very skilfully extracted by Dr. Drench, of Newark, was able to proceed to Gretna with the agitated but beautiful bride. The domestic who unhappily lost his life on this lamentable occasion, was under-butler at Stainsbury Park where he had lived for fifteen years and a half, greatly re spected. He leaves a widow and seven young children to lament his premature death." The Globe," had another version of "the affair," from which, however, "the Sun" took care to differ. "The Evening Mail' denied the suffocation point-blank; and "the Courier" assured the world, that neither man, woman, nor child was killed, wounded, or missing, save and except the young lady and a poodle-dog, which latter, by the accidental falling of an imperial, had been maimed for life. Now, though all this was to the parties very provoking, and particularly annoying to Mr. Harrison, yet it éclated the business gloriously in Connaught. Nothing could have been more consonant to the general taste of the aristocracy of that favoured corner of the earth. First, there was an elopement. Second, it was with an heiress. Third, the successful swain was a member of "the tribes"* -a genuine scion of the ould stock. Fourth, there were divers lives lost on the occasion. Fifth, judging from conflicting statements, there must have been a general rookawn," without which a runaway match would not be worth a straw. In short, it was unanimously resolved, that Cæsar Blake was a broth of a boy;" that his lady, in person and purse, would be a useful addition to the neighbourhood; and that if elderly gentleman, under-butlers, and poodle-dogs interrupt half-pay majors, they must abide the consequences. To this general commendation, even Miss Sally Macnamara, oblivious of stuffed flues and false imprisonment, magnanimously assented. My mother's journey into Connaught was one of novelty and interest. She had been hitherto secluded, and almost caged from infancy within her father's mansion, and to her the world was new, strange, and imposing. Mr. Harrison from boyhood had indulged a general dislike to female society. He married, rather as a matter of family necessity to perpetuate his name, and prevent his large estates from passing to a collateral branch. He had lost his wife soon after his union; and whether their tempers had been dissimilar, or that he had a fancy to remain unshackled, he ever afterward eschewed the holy estate." Had Ellen been a boy, he might have probably bestowed more attention in cultivating the temper, and gaining the affections of his only offspring. But in childhood Ellen was confided to a nurse and governess; and The most ancient families in Galway are known by this title. when she approached maturity, her father was more solicitous to estrange his daughter from the world, than, by a judicious introduction to society, correct the deficiencies inseparable from an imperfect education. It is true, that from competent instructors she had acquired the usual routine of fashionable accomplishments. She learned languages, understood music, was conversant with books, but perfectly unacquainted with mankind. Hence her rapid and romantic attachment to my father might have possibly originated; and with an ardent imagination and feeling heart, no wonder that her fancy overcame her prudence. She had no countervailing passion to check the first out-breakings of youthful passion. To her father she looked with reverence; but she looked with fear. There were no sympathies between them. She lacked an object on whom to bestow her young affections; and one like Cæsar Blake, handsome, showy, imposing, and distingué, was the likeliest person in the world to obtain them. As the major and his bride landed at a northern port, their route to Connaught lay through a desolate but romantic country. The language, the scenery, and the people, were new to the pretty sasanach.* The risk of traversing a kingdom on the eve of a convulsion, and where a civil war had already broken out, was alarming to one who had scarcely passed the boundaries of her father's park. Every group of peasants alarmed the timid traveller, for every thing bespoke apprehension and insecurity. The preparations of her husband and his attendant against attack; the frequency of military posts; the marching of troops; the occasional interruptions from patrols; and even her husband's communications with the peasantry in a strange tongue-all tended to divert my mother's attention, and prevent her from dwelling upon the home she had deserted, and the parent of whom her own act had bereaved her. The bleak and uninteresting country between Enniskillen and Sligo had been safely passed; and after a necessary rest, the travellers proceeded to cross the wild but romantic baronies of Tireragh and Tyrawley. That mountain-road, destined to witness soon the movements, of an invading army, was still quiet and having reached the boundary of Galway, my father stopped at a solitary inn, where the carriage of his kinsman was in waiting. The sun was setting gloriously on Lough Corrib, and that * A term applied to the English, magnificent sheet of water was blazing in the red stream of departing day. Around, mountain was piled on mountain; their dark and rocky bases, finely contrasted with their pointed summits, now covered with a cap of snow. For miles the road was cut through the declivity of a hill, leading through defiles or overhung by precipices, which to a timid traveller, were alarming enough. The last gleam of daylight disappeared as the carriage cleared a deep mountain gorge, and entered a flat and extensive valley, rendered additionally gloomy by the height of the hills which on either side shut it in. At the extremity of this highland glen, the ancient mansion of the Blakes was erected. The major in the feeble moonlight, endeavoured to point out the edifice to his bride, and directed her attention to the dusky outline which was indistinctly visible. While she looked in the direction, lights appeared and vanished, while on the right and left of the road, others danced along the hills, or flashed through the copse wood; and at the extremity of the glen, a ruddy flare from a stationary fire was discernible. The fair traveller was about to inquire what those meteors were, when the carriage turning an angle of the road, disclosed a dark mass of human beings moving rapidly toward them. Suddenly a wild yell arose from an adjacent hillock, a horn was shrilly blown, a thousand torches were lighted up, and the road, the rocks, and every rising ground, appeared crowded with a countless multitude of fierce and savage-looking people. A number of them rushed forward-the carriage stopped-and a tremendous shout echoed through the valley. Ellen screamed, and clung to her husband for protection. "Gracious God!" she exclaimed, as the horses were being taken off; are they about to murder us?" "Arrah! no, my lady," replied the well-known tones of Mr. Denis O'Brien; "they're only going to drag your honour home!"'* 66 Drag me home! what does this all mean, my love?" she said, addressing my father. 66 Nothing, dear Ellen, but that the tenants are come here to bid you welcome in their own wild fashion, and conduct you to my brother's house. You have nothing to apprehend * A dragging home-is the conveying the bride to her husband's house with a full attendance of all the clan. |