“Would I do, sir?” he timidly said.

Andy was just the last man Dwyer would have chosen, but he was determined that someone should marry the girl, and show Casey “the disgrace should not be put on him.”  He called up Andy and Matty, and asked the priest to marry them.

“I can’t, if your daughter objects,” said Father Phil.

Dwyer turned on the girl, and there was the devil in his eye.

“I’ll marry him,” said Matty.

So the rites and blessings of the Church were dispensed between two persons who an hour before had never given a thought to each other.  Yet it was wonderful with what lightness of heart Matty went through the honours consequent on a peasant bridal in Ireland.  She gaily led off the dance with Andy, and the night was far spent before the bride and bridegroom were escorted to the cottage which was to be their home.

Matty sat quiet, looking at the fire, while Andy bolted the door; but when he tried to kiss her she leaped up furiously.

“I’ll crack your silly head if you don’t behave yourself,” she cried, seizing a stool and brandishing it above him.

“Oh, wirra, wirra!” said Andy.  “Aren’t you my wife?  Why did you marry me?”

“Did I want owld Jack Dwyer to murther me as soon as the people’s backs was turned?” said Matty.  “But though I’m afraid of him, I’m not afraid of you!”

“Och!” cried poor Andy, “what’ll be the end of it?”

There was a tap at the door as he spoke, and Matty ran and opened it.

In came James Casey and half a dozen strong young fellows.  Behind them crept a reprobate, degraded priest who got his living and his name of “Couple-Beggar” by performing irregular marriages.  The end of it was that Matty was married over again to Casey, whom she had sent for while the dancing was going on.  Poor Andy, bound hand and foot, was carried out of the cottage to a lonely by-way, and there he passed his wedding-night roped to the stump of an old tree.

IV.—­Andy Gets Married Again

Misfortunes now accumulated on Andy’s head.  At break of day he was released from the tree-stump by Squire Egan, who was riding by with some bad news for the man he thought was now a happy bridegroom.  Owing to an indiscreet word dropped by our simple-minded hero, a gang of smugglers, who ran an illicit still on the moors, had gathered something about Andy stealing the letters from the post-office and Squire Egan burning them.  They had already begun to blackmail the squire, and in order to defeat them it was necessary to get Andy out of the country for some time.  So nothing could be done against Casey.

And, on going home to prepare for a journey to England with a friend of the squire’s, Andy found his mother in a sad state of anxiety.  His pretty cousin, Oonah, was crying in a corner of the room, and Ragged Nance, an unkempt beggar-woman, to whom the Rooneys had done many a good turn, was screaming, “I tell you Shan More means to carry off Oonah to-night.  I heard them laying the plan for it.”