LITMIR.BIZ

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he had always a surly look, though, from his black hair, and large bushy whiskers, many people would have called him good looking; but now there was a scowl in his restless eyes, which frightened Anty when she saw it; and the thick drops of perspiration on his forehead did not add benignity to his face.

      "Were you wanting me, Barry?" said Anty, who was the first to speak.

      "What do you stand there for, with the door open?" replied her brother, "d' you think I want the servants to hear what I've got to say?"

      "'Deed I don't know," said Anty, shutting the door; "but they'll hear just as well now av' they wish, for they'll come to the kay-hole."

      "Will they, by G––––!" said Barry, and he rushed to the door, which he banged open; finding no victim outside on whom to exercise his wrath—"let me catch 'em!" and he returned to his position by the fire.

      Anty had sat down on a sofa that stood by the wall opposite the fireplace, and Barry remained for a minute, thinking how he'd open the campaign. At last he began:

      "Anty, look you here, now. What scheme have you got in your head?—You'd better let me know, at once."

      "What schame, Barry?"

      "Well—what schame, if you like that better."

      "I've no schame in my head, that I know of—at laist—" and then Anty blushed. It would evidently be easy enough to make the poor girl tell her own secret.

      "Well, go on—at laist—"

      "I don't know what you mane, Barry. Av' you're going to be badgering me again, I'll go away."

      "It's evident you're going to do something you're ashamed of, when you're afraid to sit still, and answer a common question. But you must answer me. I'm your brother, and have a right to know. What's this you're going to do?' He didn't like to ask her at once whether she was going to get married. It might not be true, and then he would only be putting the idea into her head. 'Well,—why don't you answer me? What is it you're going to do?"

      "Is it about the property you mane, Barry?"

      "What a d––––d hypocrite you are! As if you didn't know what I mean! As for the property, I tell you there'll be little left the way you're going on. And as to that, I'll tell you what I'm going to do; so, mind, I warn you beforehand. You're not able—that is, you're too foolish and weak-headed to manage it yourself; and I mean, as your guardian, to put it into the hands of those that shall manage it for you. I'm not going to see you robbed and duped, and myself destroyed by such fellows as Moylan, and a crew of huxtering blackguards down in Dunmore. And now, tell me at once, what's this I hear about you and the Kellys?"

      "What Kellys?" said Anty, blushing deeply, and half beside herself with fear—for Barry's face was very red, and full of fierce anger, and his rough words frightened her.

      "What Kellys! Did you ever hear of Martin Kelly?—d––––d young robber that he is!" Anty blushed still deeper—rose a little way from the sofa, and then sat down again. "Look you here, Anty—I'll have the truth out of you. I'm not going to be bamboozled by such an idiot as you. You got an old man, when he was dying, to make a will that has robbed me of what was my own, and now you think you'll play your own low game; but you're mistaken! You've lived long enough without a husband to do without one now; and I can tell you I'm not going to see my property carried off by such a low, paltry blackguard as Martin Kelly."

      "How can he take your property, Barry?" sobbed forth the poor creature, who was, by this time, far gone in tears.

      "Then the long and the short of it is, he shan't have what you call yours. Tell me, at once, will you—is it true, that you've promised to marry him?"

      Anty replied nothing, but continued sobbing violently.

      "Cease your nonsense, you blubbering fool! A precious creature you are to take on yourself to marry any man! Are you going to answer me, Anty?" And he walked away from the fire, and came and stood opposite to her as she sat upon the sofa. "Are you going to answer me or not?" he continued, stamping on the floor.

      "I'll not stop here—and be trated this way—Barry—I'm sure—I do all I—I can for you—and you're always—bullying me because father divided the property." And Anty continued sobbing more violently than ever. "I won't stop in the room any more," and she got up to go to the door.

      Barry, however, rushed before her, and prevented her. He turned the lock, and put the key in his pocket; and then he caught her arm, as she attempted to get to the bell, and dragged her back to the sofa.

      "You're not off so easy as that, I can tell you. Why, d' you think you're to marry whom you please, without even telling me of it? What d'you think the world would say of me, if I were to let such an idiot as you be caught up by the first sharper that tried to rob you of your money? Now, look here," and he sat down beside her, and laid his hand violently on her arm, as he spoke, "you don't go out of this room, alive, until you've given me your solemn promise, and sworn on the cross, that you'll never marry without my consent; and you'll give me that in writing, too."

      Anty at first turned very pale when she felt his heavy hand on her arm, and saw his red, glaring eyes so near her own. But when he said she shouldn't leave the room alive, she jumped from the sofa, and shrieked, at the top of her shrill voice,—"Oh, Barry! you'll not murdher me! shure you wouldn't murdher your own sisther!"

      Barry was rather frightened at the noise, and, moreover, the word "murder" quelled him. But when he found, after a moment's pause, that the servants had not heard, or had not heeded his sister, he determined to carry on his game, now that he had proceeded so far. He took, however, a long drink out of his tumbler, to give him fresh courage, and then returned to the charge.

      "Who talked of murdering you? But, if you bellow in that way, I'll gag you. It's a great deal I'm asking, indeed—that, when I'm your only guardian, my advice should be asked for before you throw away your money on a low ruffian. You're more fit for a mad-house than to be any man's wife; and, by Heaven, that's where I'll put you, if you don't give me the promise I ask! Will you swear you'll marry no one without my leave?"

      Poor Anty shook with fear as she sate, with her eyes fixed on her brother's face. He was nearly drunk now, and she felt that he was so,—and he looked so hot and so fierce—so red and cruel, that she was all but paralysed. Nevertheless, she mustered strength to say,

      "Let me go, now, Barry, and, to-morrow, I'll tell you everything—indeed I will—and I'll thry to do all you'd have me; indeed, and indeed, I will! Only do let me go now, for you've frighted me."

      "You're likely to be more frighted yet, as you call it! And be tramping along the roads, I suppose, with Martin Kelly, before the morning. No! I'll have an answer from you, any way. I've a right to that!"

      "Oh, Barry!—What is it you want?—Pray let me go—pray, pray, for the love of the blessed Jesus, let me go."

      "I'll tell you where you'll go, and that's into Ballinasloe mad-house! Now, mark me—so help me—I'll set off with you this night, and have you there in the morning—as an idiot as you are, if you won't make the promise I'm telling you!"

      By this time Anty's presence of mind had clean left her. Indeed, all the faculties of her reason had vanished; and, as she saw her brother's scowling face so near her own, and heard him threatening to drag her to a mad-house, she put her hands before her eyes, and made one rush to escape from him—to the door—to the window—anywhere to get out of his reach.

      Barry was quite drunk now. Had he not been so, even he would hardly have done what he then did. As she endeavoured to rush by him, he raised his fist, and struck her on the face, with all his force. The blow fell upon her hands, as they were crossed over her face; but the force of the blow knocked her down, and she fell upon the floor, senseless, striking the back of her head against the table.

      "Confound her," muttered the brute, between his teeth, as she fell, "for an obstinate, pig-headed fool! What the d––––l shall I do now? Anty, get up!—get up, will you!—What ails

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