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Page 19
"Heaven bless and reward your honour," she exclaimed, "surely you are
a parent yourself. Oh, yes, I knew it," said she, as she saw him wipe
off the starting tear. "May God spare you such a trial as has this day
been my lot."
"Thank you, thank you, my good woman," said he hardly able to speak.
She had touched a tender chord, and its vibration shook his very
frame, for he had in the last few days, taken leave of four motherless
girls, pledges of love by a wife whom he had fondly loved, and of whom
he had been suddenly bereaved. Well might he feel for this poor
wretch, for _he_ had known parting in all its bitterness.
A soldier and his wife stood side by side, apparently ready to embark,
whose looks told unutterable things; they both seemed young, but their
faces betokened the extreme of agony. The name of Patrick Morgan being
called, the distracted wife clung to her husband, uttering the most
piercing and heartrending cries.
"Sure, and what'll become of me," cried she, "will you then lave me,
Pat, dear, lave your own poor Norah to die, as, sure I will, when you
go in that big ship? Oh, my dear Captain, and where will I go if your
honour isn't plazed to go without him this time? Oh, do forgive me,
but do not, oh, do not, in pity, part us. Sure, an' its your honours
dear self as knows what it is to part from them ye loves; an' so you
thought, when ye tuk lave of the dear childer, t'other day, an' saw
the mother's swate face, God rest her sowl, in the biggest of 'em, for
sure they're like, as two pays in a bushel, only one is little an'
t'other big, barring she's in heaven. Sure, and if your honour's self
had to bid 'em good bye over agin you'd, may be, think how hard it was
for me to stay behind when Pat goes."
Patrick, who, with national keen-sightedness, saw the internal working
which his wife's home appeal had created, now came forward, and said,
"Oh, yer honour, if as how I dare be so bowld as jist to ax you this
wan'st, to take compassion on us; may be, next time, we could go
together, and if Norah was but wid me, what do I care where I goes.
Here's Jem O'Connor wouldn't mind going in my stead, and he's neither
wife, as I have, nor childer, like your honour to part from." Jem
O'Conner now came forward and testified his readiness to go all the
world over to serve a comrade.
Words could but poorly convey an idea of the looks of the anxious
couple, as they watched the varying countenance of the Captain. The
situation of the soldier and his wife touched him to the quick, and
the appeal proved irresistible. Jem O'Connor was permitted to go
instead of Pat. Morgan, who, triumphantly led off his wife, both of
them invoking blessings on his head, whose humanity had thus spared
them the pangs of separation.
I stood, perhaps, twenty minutes musing on the scenes that had just
been passing before me and was returning, to retrace my steps to the
inn breakfast, when I noticed a wretched looking woman, with a baby in
her arms. She was walking very fast, towards the water's edge, where
the boats were still waiting to take the last of the soldiers on board
ship. She had an anxious, nay, a despairing look as she looked around,
as I judged, for the Captain, who was not to be seen.
Hushing her little one, whose piteous cry would almost have made one
think it was uttered in sympathy with its mother's distress. Casting
one more despairing glance, she was, apparently, about to retrace her
weary steps with a look that completely baffles description, when her
eye fell on a boat returning from the vessel, which that moment neared
the water's edge, and she saw Captain Ormsby jump out. Hastily going
up to him, she exclaimed, in a tone that seemed almost to forbid
comfort.
"Oh, Sir, I am ashamed to be so troublesome, indeed I am, and I fear
to ask you if I have any chance this time?"
"Why Kitty, my good girl, had you asked me that question half, nay, a
quarter of an hour ago, I could not have given you any hope, but I can
now put you in place of Timothy Brennan's wife, who has just altered
her mind."
"Sergeant Browne," cried he, "here is Hewson's wife, who went out in
the 'Boyne.' Do the best you can for her, she can take Hetty Brennan's
place." Joyfully did Kitty Hewson step into the boat, beckoning to a
lad who was holding a small deal box, which he placed beside her; but
she seemed as if she could hardly believe herself about to follow her
husband, till actually on board.
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