St. Patrick's Eve

by Charles James Lever

about the hut, and even expose himself tothe chill blast, to resist its influence. The very purpose on which hewas bent, so far from dispelling sleep, rather induced its approach;for, strange as it may seem, the concentration with which the mindbrings its powers to bear on any object will overcome all the interestand anxiety of our natures, and bring on sleep from very weariness.

  He slept, at first, calmly and peacefully--exhaustion would have itsdebt acquitted--and he breathed as softly as an infant. At last, whenthe extreme of fatigue was passed, his brain began to busy itself withflitting thoughts and fancies,--some long-forgotten day of boyhood, somelittle scene of childish gaiety, flashed across him, and he dreamed ofthe old mountain-lake, where so often he watched the wide circles ofthe leaping trout, or tracked with his eye the foamy path of the wildwater-hen, as she skimmed the surface. Then suddenly his chest heavedand fell with a strong motion, for with lightning's speed the currentof his thoughts was changed; his heart was in the mad tumult of afaction-fight, loud shouts were ringing in his ears, the crash ofsticks, the cries of pain, entreaties for mercy, execrations andthreats, rung around him, when one figure moved slowly before hisastonished gaze, with a sweet smile upon her lips, and love in herlong-lashed eyes. She murmured his name; and now he slept with alow-drawn breath, his quivering lips repeating, "Mary!"

  Another and a sadder change was coming. He was on the mountains, inthe midst of a large assemblage of wild-looking and haggard men, whoseviolent speech and savage gestures well suited their reckless air. Aloud shout welcomed him as he came amongst them, and a cry of "Here'sOwen Connor--Owen at last!" and a hundred hands were stretched out tograsp his, but as suddenly withdrawn, on seeing that his hands were notbloodstained nor gory.

  He shuddered as he looked upon their dripping fingers; but he shudderedstill more as they called him "Coward!" What he said he knew not; but ina moment they were gathered round him, and clasping him in their arms;and now, his hands, his cheeks, his clothes, were streaked with blood;he tried to wipe the foul stains out, but his fingers grew clotted,and his feet seemed to plash in the red stream, and his savage comradeslaughed fiercely at his efforts, and mocked him.

  "What am I, that you should clasp me thus?" he cried; and a voice fromhis inmost heart replied, "A murderer!" The cold sweat rolled in greatdrops down his brow, while the foam of agony dewed his pallid lips, andhis frame trembled in a terrible convulsion. Confused and fearful imagesof bloodshed and its penalty, the crime and the scaffold, commingled,worked in his maddened brain. He heard the rush of feet, as if thousandswere hurrying on, to see him die, and voices that swelled like the seaat midnight. Nor was the vision all unreal: for already two men hadentered the hut.

  The dreadful torture of his thoughts had now reached its climax, andwith a bound Owen sprang from his sleep, and cried in a shriek ofheart-wrung anguish, "No, never--I am not a murderer. Owen Connor canmeet his death like a man, but not with blood upon him."

  "Owen Connor! Owen Connor, did you say?" repeated one of the two whostood before him; "are you, then, Owen Connor?"

  "I am," replied Owen, whose dreams were still the last impression on hismind. "I give myself up;--do what ye will with me;--hang, imprison, ortransport me; I'll never gainsay you."

  "Owen, do you not know me?" said the other, removing his travelling cap,and brushing back the hair from his forehead.

  "No, I know nothing of you," said he, fiercely.

  "Not remember your old friend--your landlord's son, Owen?"

  Owen stared at him without speaking; his parted lips and fixed gazeevidencing the amazement which came over him.

  "You saved my life, Owen," said the young man, horror-struck by thewithered and wasted form of the peasant.

  "And you have made me this," muttered Owen, as he let fall the pistolfrom his bosom. "Yes," cried he, with an energy very different frombefore, "I came out this night, sworn to murder that man besideyou--your agent, Lucas; my soul is perjured if my hands are not bloody."

  Lucas instantly took a pistol from the breast of his coat, and cockedit; while the ghastly whiteness of his cheek shewed he did not think thedanger was yet over.

  "Put up your weapon," said Owen, contemptuously. "What would I care forit, if I wanted to take your life? do you think the likes of me has anyhould on the world?" and he laughed a scornful and bitter laugh.

  "How is this, then?" cried Leslie; "is murder so light a crime that aman like this does not shrink from it?"

  "The country," whispered Lucas, "is indeed in a fearful state. Therights of property no longer exist among us. That fellow--because helost his farm--"

  "Stop, sir!" cried Owen, fiercely; "I will deny nothing of my guilt--butlay not more to my charge than is true. Want and misery have brought melow--destitution and recklessness still lower--but if I swore to haveyour life this night, it was not for any vengeance of my own."

  "Ha! then there is a conspiracy!" cried Lucas, hastily. "We must have itout of you--every word of it--or it will go harder with yourself."

  Owen's only reply was a bitter laugh; and from that moment, he neveruttered another word. All Lucas's threats, all Leslie's entreaties, werepowerless and vain. The very allusion to becoming an informer was toorevolting to be forgiven, and he firmly resolved to brave any and everything, rather than endure the mere proposal.

  They returned to Galway as soon as the post-boys had succeeded inrepairing the accidental breakage of the harness, which led to theopportune appearance of the landlord and his agent in the hut; Owenaccompanying them without a word or a gesture.

  So long as Lucas was present, Owen never opened his lips; the dreadof committing himself, or in any way implicating one amongst hiscompanions, deterred him; but when Leslie sent for him, alone, and askedhim the circumstances which led him to the eve of so great a crime, heconfessed all--omitting nothing, save such passages as might involveothers--and even to Leslie he was guarded on this topic.

  The young landlord listened with astonishment and sorrow to thepeasant's story. Never till now did he conceive the mischiefs neglectand abandonment can propagate, nor of how many sins mere poverty can bethe parent. He knew not before that the very endurance of want can teachanother endurance, and make men hardened against the terrors of the lawand its inflictions. He was not aware of the condition of his tenantry;he wished them all well off and happy; he had no self-accusings of agrudging nature, nor an oppressive disposition, and he absolved himselfof any hardships that originated with "the agent."

  The cases brought before his notice rather disposed him to regard thepeople as wily and treacherous, false in their pledges and unmindfulof favours; and many, doubtless, were so; but he never inquired how fartheir experience had taught them, that dishonesty was the best policy,and that trick and subtlety are the only aids to the poor man. Heforgot, above all, that they had neither examples to look up to, norimitate, and that when once a people have become sunk in misery, theyare the ready tools of any wicked enough to use them for violence, andfalse enough to persuade them, that outrage can be their welfare; and,lastly, he overlooked the great fact, that in a corrupt and debasedsocial condition, the evils which, under other circumstances, would beborne with a patient trust in future relief, are resented in a spiritof recklessness; and that men soon cease to shudder at a crime, whenfrequency has accustomed them to discuss its details.

  I must not--I dare not dwell longer on this theme. Leslie felt all theaccusations of an awakened conscience. He saw himself the origin of manymisfortunes--of evils of whose very existence he never heard before.Ere Owen concluded his sad story, his mind was opened to some of themiseries of Ireland; and when he had ended, he cried, "I will live athome with ye, amongst ye all, Owen! I will try if Irishmen cannot learnto know who is their true friend; and while repairing some of my ownfaults, mayhap I may remedy some of theirs."

  "Oh! why did you not do this before I came to my ruin?" cried Owen, ina passionate burst of grief; for the poor fellow all along had givenhimself up for lost, and imagined, that his own plea of guil
t must bringhim to the gallows. Nor was it till after much persuasion and greattrouble, that Leslie could reconcile him to himself, and assure him,that his own fortunate repentance had saved him from destruction.

  "You shall go back to your mountain-cabin, Owen; you shall have your ownfarm again, and be as happy as ever," said the young man. "The law mustdeal with those who break it, and no one will go farther than myself tovindicate the law; but I will also try if kindness and fair-dealing willnot save many from the promptings of their own hearts, and teach menthat, even here, the breach of God's commandments can bring neitherpeace nor happiness."

  My object in this little story being to trace the career of one humbleman through the trials and temptations