Part 17

"He is my brother, sir--my own brother, and he has gone and 'listed, and it's breaking my mother's heart; and sure, yer honor, if he goes away for a soldier, she will die, and it's all alone in the world I'll be." With that, her little red lips began to quiver, and the tears to fall from her soft, brown eyes.

"But what good will it do Phin, for you to kiss the Blarney Stone?" asked one of the ladies.

"Whist!" said the child, looking about her, and speaking low, as though afraid of being overheard by some one unfriendly to Phin, "it's just a little plot of my own. I was told that the new lord-lieutenant was coming to Cork, and I knew he could let poor Phin off from being a soldier; so I said nothing to nobody, but came up to entrate him. You see I had often heard how this same Blarney Stone would give people an ilegant and moving discoorse; and sure I thought I'd need to kiss it, before I could stand up forninst a great lord, and say my story. That is all, yer ladyship."

"Oh, little girl!" cried Fanny, joyfully, "you need not kiss the old stone for that, for my papa is--" Here the impulsive little girl caught a warning look from her father, and paused suddenly, while his lordship took up the conversation with the peasant child.

"What is your name?"

"Norah McCarthy, yer honor."

"Ah, quite a pretty name. Well, Norah, how came this brother of yours to enlist?"

"Och! it all came from going to Darby O'Hallagher's wake."

"What is a wake?" asked Fanny.

"A wake, my darling young lady," said Rooney, very politely, "sure it's an entertainment that a man gives after he is dead, when his disconsolate friends all assemble at his house, to discuss his virtues and drink his poteen. There is one who is called a 'keener,' usually an elderly woman, with a touch of madness, or poetry, and a wild rolling eye, who chants a 'keen,' or lamentation; in short, it's a sort of melancholy frolic, where we only drink to drown our sorrow--a good old Irish custom. Now, go on, Norah, my jewel."

"Well, may be Phin was a great mourner for Darby, for he was overtaken in drink that night, and brought shame upon himself, that had always been a dacent and a sober lad; and the next day Mary Nelligan wouldn't spake to him, and even our mother turned her face away from him; and so, with the hot shame at his heart, he went straight to the sergeant and 'listed. He was sorry soon, and Mary was sorry, and mother is just kilt with grief, for she has nobody to look to now."

"And to obtain your brother's discharge, you have come on this pilgrimage to Blarney Castle, my poor child?" said Lord Clare, laying his hand gently on the little girl's head.

"Yes, and will yer honor kindly point out the stone to me? for I must go back to Cork this day."

Lord Clare took her by the hand, and leading her to the parapet, pointed down to the stone, imbedded in the outside wall. "Ah," cried Norah, in a tone of dismay and grief, "how can I reach it there? and where am I to get the heart to spake up to the lord-lieutenant for poor Phin?"

Just then, an idea of testing the courage and devotion of the child occurred to Lord Clare. Unwinding from his waist a long silk, military sash, he said, "If you will let me tie this around you, under your arms, and let you down by it, you can kiss the Blarney Stone, and I will draw you up again. Are you brave enough to venture?"

As Norah looked down from what seemed to her a dreadful height, she grew dizzy and shrank back; but when she looked up into the calm, kind eyes of Lord Clare, she took courage, and said she would go. As he tied the sash firmly about her, she said,--"If yer honor finds me heavy you'll not let me fall, for sure you have a colleen (girl) of your own."

She put up a little prayer when she went over the wall, which I doubt not was lovingly listened to, by Him who blessed little children. Safely she was lowered to the stone, and eagerly she pressed against it her soft red lips, and then called out, "I've done it, yer honor; now pull me up, if you plase."

As Lord Clare lifted her up over the parapet, Fanny, in admiration of her courage, rushed forward, flung her arms about her and kissed her--calling her "the best and bravest girl in the world." The ladies and gentlemen of the party all made presents of money, which she received with grateful thanks, but seemed bewildered by their great kindness and in a hurry to get away.

"Where are you going?" asked one.

"Back to Cork, sure, to find the lord-lieutenant, while the feel of the Blarney Stone is on my lips."

"But how will you get to speak to him?"

"Ah, then, I cannot tell; but the saints will help me, may be."

"I will tell you what to do," said Lord Clare. "Come to the Royal Hotel, where he lodges, just after the Review, to-day. I know him, and will see that orders are given to admit you, at once."

"But hadn't I better wait till his lordship has dined?" asked Norah, "for I have heard that gentlemen are better natured after dinner."

"Ah, you are a shrewd child," said Lord Clare, laughing, "but you forget that you have kissed the Blarney Stone, and need not fear even a hungry lord-lieutenant. Come at the time I set."

"And keep up good courage," whispered Fanny. "You can't expect any help from the fairies, for there are no such little folks nowadays; but there are the angels, you know--and my papa, he is almost as good as a fairy."

At the hour appointed for receiving his humble petitioner, the lord-lieutenant was standing in his parlor, at the Royal Hotel, with a group of officers in rich uniforms and ladies in full dress about him. He was amusing some of the company who had not been with him in the morning, by an account of the simplicity and heroism of the beautiful Irish child he had met, when she was shown in, by a pompous serving-man, in showy livery, who looked very much astonished and somewhat indignant at being obliged to introduce such a humble little body to a room full of grand people. But no one cared for his looks. Norah was dazzled by the sight of so much splendid dress, and went forward with timid, wavering steps to where she was told the lord-lieutenant was standing. She stood before him, quite silent for a moment, her eyes cast down, and a painful blush overspreading her artless face; then, in a trembling, hesitating voice, she began--"Will yer honor plase--no, may it plase yer lord-lieutenantship to let our poor Phin go! Sure, with all these fine soldiers you'll never miss him, and then"--here she stammered and broke quite down. Covering her face with her hands, she cried out, half sorrowfully and half in vexation, "Bad luck to the Blarney Stone! There's no good in it at all, at all--sorra a word more will it give me to spake."

Lord Clare laughed at this--a pleasant, familiar laugh--and Norah dropped her hands and looked up full in his face, for the first time during the interview. In an instant, her eyes flashed joyfully through their tears, she clapped her hands and cried,--"Blessed Saint Patrick it is himself!" The next moment, Fanny was at her side, smiling and whispering joyfully, "Didn't I tell you my papa was almost as good as a fairy?"