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diff --git a/35143-0.txt b/35143-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..25a62d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/35143-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15763 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II), by +Charles James Lever + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II) + +Author: Charles James Lever + +Illustrator: Phiz. + +Release Date: February 2, 2011 [EBook #35143] +Last Updated: February 27, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN + +By Charles James Lever. + +With Illustrations By Phiz. + +In Two Volumes + +Vol. I. + +Boston: + +Little, Brown, And Company. + +1906. + + + + +TO THE + +REVEREND MORTIMER O'SULLIVAN, D.D. + +If I have not asked your permission to dedicate this volume to you, it +is because I would not involve you in the responsibility of any opinions +even so light a production may contain, nor seek to cover by a great +name the sentiment and views of a very humble one. + +I cannot, however, deny myself the pleasure of inscribing to you a book +to which I have given much thought and labor,--a testimony of the deep +and sincere affection of one who has no higher pride than in the honor +of your friendship. + +Ever sincerely yours, + +CHARLES LEVER + +Casa Cappoli, Florence, May, 1856 + + + + +PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1872. + +When I had made my arrangement with my publishers for this new story, I +was not sorry for many reasons to place the scene of it in Ireland. +One of my late critics, in noticing “Roland Cashel” and “The Daltons,” + mildly rebuked me for having fallen into doubtful company, and half +censured--in Bohemian--several of the characters in these novels. I +was not then, still less am I now, disposed to argue the point with +my censor, and show that there is a very wide difference between the +persons who move in the polite world, with a very questionable morality, +and those patented adventurers whose daily existence is the product of +daily address. The more one sees of life, the more is he struck by the +fact that the mass of mankind is rarely very good or very bad, that the +business of life is carried on with mixed motives; the best people being +those who are least selfish, and the worst being little other than those +who seek their own objects with slight regard for the consequences to +others, and even less scruple as to the means. + +Any uniformity in good or evil would be the deathblow to that genteel +comedy which goes on around us, and whose highest interest very often +centres in the surprises we give ourselves by unexpected lines of action +and unlooked-for impulses. As this strange drama unfolded itself before +me, it had become a passion with me to watch the actors, and speculate +on what they might do. For this Florence offered an admirable stage. +It was eminently cosmopolitan; and, in consequence, less under the +influence of any distinct code of public opinion than any section of the +several nationalities I might have found at home. + +There was a universal toleration abroad; and the Spaniard conceded to +the German, and the Russian to the Englishman, much on the score of +nationality; and did not question too closely a morality which, after +all, might have been little other than a conventional habit. Exactly in +the same way, however, that one hurries away from the life of a city and +its dissipations, to breathe the fresh air and taste the delicious quiet +of the country, did I turn from these scenes of splendor, from the crush +of wealth, and the conflict of emotion, to that Green Island, where so +many of my sympathies were intertwined, and where the great problem of +human happiness was on its trial on issues that differed wonderfully +little from those that were being tried in gilded salons, and by people +whose names were blazoned in history. + +Ireland, at the time I speak of, was beginning to feel that sense of +distrust and jealousy between the owner and the tiller of the soil +which, later on, was to develop itself into open feud. The old ties +that have bound the humble to the rich man, and which were hallowed +by reciprocal acts of good-will and benevolence, were being loosened. +Benefits were canvassed with suspicion, ungracious or unholy acts were +treasured up as cruel wrongs. The political agitator had so far gained +the ear of the people, that he could persuade them that there was not a +hardship or a grievance of their lot that could not be laid at the door +of the landlord. He was taught to regard the old relation of love and +affection to the owner of the soil, as the remnants of a barbarism that +had had its day, and he was led to believe that whether the tyranny +that crushed him was the Established Church or the landlord, there was +a great Liberal party ready to aid him in resisting either or both, when +he could summon courage for the effort. By what promptings the poor man +was brought to imagine that a reign of terror would suffice to establish +him in an undisputed possession of the soil, and that the best lease was +a loaded musket, it is not either my wish nor my duty here to narrate; +I only desire to call my reader's attention to the time itself, as a +transition period when the peasant had begun to resent some of the ties +that had bound him to his landlord, and had not yet conceived the idea +of that formidable conspiracy which issues its death-warrants and never +is at a loss for the agents to enforce them. There were at the time +some who, seeing the precarious condition of the period, had their grave +forebodings of what was to come, when further estrangement between the +two classes was accomplished, and the poor man should come to see in +the rich only an oppressor and a tyrant. There was not at that time the +armed resistance to rents, nor the threatening letter system to which we +were afterwards to become accustomed, still less was there the thought +that the Legislature would interfere to legalize the demands by which +the tenant was able to coerce his landlord; and for a brief interval +there did seem a possibility of reuniting once again, by the ties of +benefit and gratitude, the two classes whose real welfare depends on +concord and harmony. I have not the shadow of a pretext to be thought +didactic, but I did believe that if I recalled in fiction some of the +traits which once had bound up the relations of rich and poor, and given +to our social system many of the characteristics of the family, I should +be reviving pleasant memories if not doing something more. + +To this end I sketched the character of Mary Martin. By making the +opening of my story date from the time of the Relief Bill, I intended +to picture the state of the country at one of the most memorable eras +in its history, and when an act of the Legislature assumed to redress +inequalities, compose differences, and allay jealousies of centuries' +growth, and make of two widely differing races one contented people. + +I had not, I own, any implicit faith in Acts of Parliament, and I had +a fervent belief in what kindness--when combined with knowledge of +Ireland--could do with Irishmen. I have never heard of a people with +whom sympathy could do so much, nor the want of it be so fatal. I have +never heard of any other people to whom the actual amount of a benefit +was of less moment than the mode it was bestowed. I have never read of a +race who, in great poverty and many privations, attach a higher value to +the consideration that is bestowed on them than to the actual material +boons, and feel such a seemingly disproportioned gratitude for kind +words and generous actions. + +What might not be anticipated from a revulsion of sentiment in a people +like this, to what violence might not this passion for vengeance be +carried, if the notion possessed them that they, whom she called her +betters, only traded on the weakness of their poverty and the imbecility +of their good faith? It was in a fruitful soil of this kind that the +agitation now sowed the seeds of distrust and disorder; and with what +fatal rapidity the poison reproduced itself and spread, the history of +late years is the testimony. + +If such traits as I have endeavored to picture in Mary Martin were +engaged in the work of benevolence tomorrow, they would be met on every +side by discouragement and defeat. The priest would denounce them as a +propaganda artfully intended to sap the ancient faith of the people; +the agitators would denounce them as the cunning flatteries of political +solicitation; the people themselves would distrust them as covering +some secret object; and the National Press would be certain to utter its +warnings against whatever promised to establish peace or contentment to +the land. + +I have said already, and I repeat it here, that this character of Mary +Martin is purely fictitious; and there is the more need I should say +it, since there was once a young lady of this very name,--many traits of +whose affection for the people and efforts for their well being might +be supposed to have been my original. To my great regret I never had the +happiness to have met her; however, I have heard much of her devotion +and her goodness. + +I am not sure that some of my subordinate characters were not drawn from +life. Mrs. Nelligan, I remember, had her type in a little Galway town +I once stopped at, and Dan Nelligan had much in common with one who has +since held a distinguished place on the Bench. + +Of the terrible epidemic which devastated Ireland, there was much for +which I drew on my own experience. Of its fearful ravages in the west, +in the wilds of Clare, and that lonely promontory that stretches at the +mouth of the Shannon into the Atlantic, I had been the daily witness; +and even to recall some of the incidents passingly was an effort of +great pain. + +Of one feature of the people at this disastrous time, I could not say +enough; nor could any words of mine do justice to the splendid heroism +with which they bore up, and the noble generosity they showed each other +in misfortune. It is but too often remarked how selfish men are made by +misery, and how fatal is a common affliction to that charity that cares +for others. There was none of this here; I never in any condition or +class recognized more traits of thoughtful kindness and self-denial +than I did amongst these poor, famished, and forgotten people. I never +witnessed in the same perfection, how a widespread affliction could +call up a humanity great as itself, and make very commonplace natures +something actually heroic and glorious. + +Nothing short of the fatal tendency I have to digression, and the +watchful care I am bound to bestow against this fault, prevented me from +narrating several incidents with which my own experience had made me +acquainted. Foreign as these were to the burden of my tale, it was only +by an effort I overcame the temptation to recall them. + +If a nation is to be judged by her bearing under calamity, Ireland--and +she has had some experiences--comes well through the ordeal. That we +may yet see how she will sustain her part in happier circumstances is my +hope and my prayer, and that the time be not too far off. + +CHARLES LEVER. + +Trieste, 1872. + +THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. + + + + +CHAPTER I. CRO' MARTIN + +I am about to speak of Ireland as it was some four-and-twenty years ago, +and feel as if I were referring to a long-past period of history, such +have been the changes, political and social, effected in that interval! +Tempting, as in some respects might be an investigation into the causes +of these great changes, and even speculation as to how they might have +been modified and whither they tend, I prefer rather to let the reader +form his own unaided judgment on such matters, and will therefore, +without more of preface, proceed to my story. + +If the traveller leaves the old town of Oughterard, and proceeds +westward, he enters a wild and dreary region, with few traces of +cultivation, and with scarcely an inhabitant. Bare, bleak mountains, +fissured by many a torrent, bound plains of stony surface,--here and +there the miserable hut of some “cottier,” with its poor effort at +tillage, in the shape of some roods of wet potato land, or the sorry +picture of a stunted oat crop, green even in the late autumn. Gradually, +however, the scene becomes less dreary. Little patches of grass land +come into view, generally skirting some small lake; and here are to be +met with droves of those wild Connemara ponies for which the district is +so celebrated; a stunted hardy race, with all the endurance and courage +that beseem a mountain origin. Further on, the grateful sight of young +timber meets the eye, and large enclosures of larch and spruce fir are +seen on every favorable spot of ground. And at length, on winding round +the base of a steep mountain, the deep woods of a rich demesne appear, +and soon afterwards a handsome entrance-gate of massive stone, with +armorial bearings above it, announces the approach to Cro' Martin +Castle, the ancient seat of the Martins. + +An avenue of several miles in length, winding through scenery of the +most varied character, at one time traversing rich lawns of waving +meadow, at another tracking its course along some rocky glen, or +skirting the bank of a clear and rapid river, at length arrives at the +castle. With few pretensions to architectural correctness, Cro' Martin +was, indeed, an imposing structure. Originally the stronghold of some +bold Borderer, it had been added to by successive proprietors, till +at last it had assumed the proportions of a vast and spacious edifice, +different eras contributing the different styles of building, and +presenting in the mass traces of every architecture, from the stern old +watch-tower of the fourteenth century to the commodious dwelling-house +of our own. + +If correct taste might take exception to many of the external details +of this building, the arrangements within doors, where all that elegance +and comfort could combine were to be found, might safely challenge +criticism. Costly furniture abounded, not for show in state apartments, +shrouded in canvas, or screened from sunlight, but for daily use in +rooms that showed continual habitation. + +Some of the apartments displayed massive specimens of that richly carved +old oak furniture for which the châteaux of the Low Countries were +famed; others abounded with inlaid consoles and costly tables of +“marqueterie,” and others again exhibited that chaste white and gold +which characterized the splendid era of the Regency in France. Great +jars of Sèvres, those splendid mockeries of high art, stood in the +windows, whose curtains were of the heaviest brocade. Carpets of soft +Persian wool covered the floors, and rich tapestries were thrown over +sofas and chairs with a careless grace, the very triumph of picturesque +effect. + +In the scrupulous neatness of all these arrangements, in the orderly +air, the demure and respectful bearing of the servants as they showed +the castle to strangers, one might read the traces of a strict and +rigid discipline,--features, it must be owned, that seemed little +in accordance with the wild region that stretched on every side. The +spotless windows of plate-glass, the polished floor that mirrored every +chair that stood on it, the massive, and well-fitting doors, the richly +gilded dogs that shone within the marble hearth, had little brotherhood +with the dreary dwellings of the cottiers beyond the walls of the park; +and certainly even Irish misery never was more conspicuous than in that +lonely region. + +It was early on a calm morning of the late autumn that the silent +courtyard of the castle resounded with the sharp quick tramp of a horse, +suddenly followed by a loud shrill whistle, as a young girl, mounted +upon a small but highly bred horse, galloped up to one of the back +entrances. Let us employ the few seconds in which she thus awaited, to +introduce her to the reader. Somewhat above the middle size, and with +a figure admirably proportioned, her face seemed to blend the joyous +character of happy girlhood with a temperament of resolute action. The +large and liquid hazel eyes, with their long dark fringes, were almost +at variance with the expression of the mouth, which, though finely and +beautifully fashioned, conveyed the working of a spirit that usually +followed its own dictates, and as rarely brooked much interference. + +Shaded by a broad-leaved black hat, and with a braid of her dark auburn +hair accidentally fallen on her shoulder, Mary Martin sat patting the +head of the wire-haired greyhound who had reared himself to her side,--a +study for Landseer himself. Scarcely above a minute had elapsed, when +several servants were seen running towards her, whose hurried air +betrayed that they had only just risen from bed. + +“You're all very late to-day,” cried the young lady. “You should have +been in the stables an hour ago. Where 's Brand?” + +“He 's gone into the fair, miss, with a lot of hoggets,” said a little +old fellow with a rabbit-skin cap, and a most unmistakable groom +formation about the knees and ankles. + +“Look to the mare, Barny,” said she, jumping off; “and remind me, if I +forget it, to fine you all, for not having fed and watered before six +o'clock. Yes, I 'll do it; I said so once before, and you 'll see I 'll +keep my word. Is it because my uncle goes a few weeks to the seaside, +that you are to neglect your duty? Hackett, I shall want to see the +colts presently; go round to the straw-yard and wait till I come; and, +Graft, let us have a look at the garden, for my aunt is quite provoked +at the flowers you have been sending her lately.” + +All this was said rapidly, and in a tone that evidently was not meant +to admit of reply; and the gardener led the way, key in hand, very much +with the air of a felon going to conviction. He was a Northern Irishman, +however, and possessed the Scotch-like habits of prudent reserve that +never wasted a word in a bad cause. And thus he suffered himself to be +soundly rated upon various short-comings in his department,--celery that +wanted landing; asparagus grown to the consistence of a walking-cane; +branches of fruit-trees breaking under their weight of produce; and even +weed-grown walks,--all were there, and upon all was he arraigned. + +“The old story, of course, Graft,” said she, slapping her foot +impatiently with her riding-whip,--“you have too few people in the +garden; but my remedy will be to lessen their number. Now mark me. My +uncle is coming home on Wednesday next,--just so--a full month earlier +than you expected,--and if the garden be not in perfect order,--if I +find one of these things I have complained of to-day--” + +“But, my leddy, this is the season when, what wi' sellin' the fruit, and +what wi' the new shoots--” + +“I 'll have it done, that 's all, Mr. Graft; and you 'll have one man +less to do it with. I 'll go over the hothouse after breakfast,” said +she, smiling to herself at the satisfaction with which he evidently +heard this short reprieve. Nor was he himself more anxious to escape +censure than was she to throw off the ungracious office of inflicting +it. + +“And now for old Catty Broon, and a good breakfast to put me in better +temper,” said she to herself, as she entered the castle and wended her +way to the housekeeper's room. + +“May I never; but I thought it was a dream when I heard your voice +outside,” said old Catty, as she welcomed her young mistress with +heartfelt delight; “but when I saw them runnin' here and runnin' there, +I said, sure enough, she's come in earnest.” + +“Quite true, Catty,” said Mary, laughing. “I surprised the garrison, and +found them, I must say, in most sorry discipline; but never mind, they +'ll have everything to rights by Wednesday, when we are all coming back +again.” + +“Was the bathing any use to my Lady, miss?” asked Catty, but in a tone +that combined a kind of half drollery with earnest. + +“She's better and worse, Catty; better in health, and scarcely as +good-humored; but, there 's a good old soul, let me have breakfast, for +I have a great deal to do before I ride back.” + +“But sure you are not goin' to ride back to Kilkieran to-day?” + +“That am I, Catty, and up to Kyle's Wood and the new plantations before +I go. Why, it's only fifteen miles, old lady!” + +“Faix, you 're your father's daughter all over,” said Catty, with a +look first at _her_, and then at a water-colored sketch which occupied +a place over the chimney, and represented a fair-haired, handsome boy of +about ten years of age. + +“Was that ever like papa?” asked the girl. + +“'Tis his born image, it is,” said Catty; and her eyes swam with tears +as she turned away. + +“Well, to _my_ thinking he is far better-looking in that picture!” said +Mary, pointing with her whip to a colored drawing of a showily dressed +dragoon officer, reining in his charger, and seeming to eye with +considerable disdain the open mouth of a cannon in front of him. + +“Ah, then, the other was more himself!” sighed Catty; “and more nat'ral +too, with the long hair on his neck and that roguish laugh in his eye.” + +“And neither are very like that!” said Mary, pointing to a third +portrait, which represented a swarthy horseman with a wide sombrero and +a jacket all braided and buttoned in Mexican fashion, a rifle at his +back, and a long lance in his hand, with the heavy coil of a lasso at +his saddle-peak. + +“Arrah, that ain't a bit like him,” said the old woman, querulously, +“for all that he said that it was.” + +Mary arose at the words, and perused aloud some lines which were written +at the foot of the picture, and which many and many a time before she +had conned over and repeated. They ran thus: “Aye, Catty, though +you won't believe it, that rough-looking old rider, all bearded and +sunburned, is your own wild Barry of former days; and for all that the +world has done, wonderfully little altered in the core, though the crust +is not very like that cherry-cheeked boy that used to, and mayhap still +may, hang over your fireplace.--Guastalla, May, 1808.” + +“And has he not written since that?” sighed the girl, over whom the dark +shadow of orphanhood passed as she spoke. + +“Twice only: the first of the two spoke of his coming home again; but +somehow he seemed to be put off it, and the next letter was all about +you, as if he did n't mean to come back! My Lady and Master Barry never +was fond of each other,” muttered the old woman, after a pause, and as +though giving an explanation to some problem that she was working within +her own head. + +“But my uncle loved him,” broke in Mary. + +“And why wouldn't he? War n't they twins? There was only a few minutes +between them,--long enough to make one a rich man, and leave the +other only his own wits and the wide world for a fortune! Ayeh, ayeh!” + grumbled out the old crone, “if they were both born poor, they 'd be +livin' together like brothers now, under the one roof,--happy +and comfortable; and you and your cousin, Master Dick, would be +playfellows and companions, instead of his being away in Ingia, or +America, or wherever it is!” + +The young girl leaned her head on her hand, and appeared to have fallen +into a deep train of thought; for she never noticed old Catty's remarks, +nor, indeed, seemed conscious of her presence for some time. “Catty,” + said she, at length, and in a voice of unusually calm earnestness, +“never talk to me of these things; they only fret me; they set me a +thinking of Heaven knows what longings,--for a home that should be more +like a real home than this, though God knows my uncle is all that I +could wish in kindness and affection; but--but--” + +She stopped, and her lip quivered, and her eyes grew heavy-looking; and +then, with a kind of struggle against her emotions, she added gayly, +“Come and show me the dairy, Catty. I want to see all those fine things +in Wedgewood-ware that you got while we were away, and then we 'll +have a peep at the calves, and by that time it will be the hour for my +levee.” + +“Faix, miss,” said the old woman, “they 're all here already. The news +soon spread that you came over this morning, and you 'll have a great +assembly.” + +“I'll not keep them waiting, then,” said Mary; and, so saying, she +left the room, and proceeding by many passages and corridors, at length +reached a remote part of the building which once had formed part of the +ancient edifice. A suite of low-ceiled rooms here opened upon a small +grassy enclosure, all of which had been appropriated by Mary to her +own use. One was a little library or study, neatly but very modestly +furnished; adjoining it was her office, where she transacted all +business matters; and beyond that again was a large chamber, whose sole +furniture consisted in a row of deal presses against the walls, and a +long table or counter which occupied the middle of the room. Two large +windows opening to the floor lighted the apartment; and no sooner had +Mary thrown these wide, than a burst of salutations and greetings arose +from a dense and motley crowd assembled on the grass outside, and who +stood, sat, or lay in every possible attitude and grouping, their faces +all turned towards the window where she was standing. + +With true native volubility they poured out not only their welcomings, +but a number of interjectional flatteries, supposed not to be audible by +her on whom they commented; and thus her hair, her eyes, her teeth, her +complexion, even her foot, were praised with an enthusiasm of admiration +that might have shamed more polished worshippers. + +These muttered eulogies continued as the young girl was occupied +unlocking drawers and presses, and placing upon the table several books +and papers, as well as a small scale and weights,--preparations all +equally the source of fruitful observation. + +The company was entirely of the softer sex,--an epithet not perhaps in +the strictest accordance with an array of faces that really might have +shamed witchcraft. Bronzed, blear-eyed, and weather-beaten, seamed with +age and scarred with sickness, shrewd-looking, suspicious, and crafty +in every lineament, there was yet one characteristic predominant over +all,--an intense and abject submission, an almost slavish deference +to every observation addressed to them. Their dress bespoke the very +greatest poverty; not only were they clothed in rags of every hue and +shape, but all were barefooted, and some of the very oldest wore no +other covering to their heads than their own blanched and grizzled +locks. + +Nor would a follower of Lavater have argued too favorably of +the prosperity of Irish regeneration, in beholding that array of +faces,--low-browed, treacherous-looking, and almost savagely cruel, as +many of them were in expression. There was not, indeed, as often is +to be remarked amongst the peasant class of many countries, a look +of stupid, stolid indifference; on the contrary, their faces were +intensely, powerfully significant, and there was stamped upon them that +strange mixture of malignant drollery and sycophancy that no amount of +either good or adverse fortune ever entirely subdues in their complex +natures. + +[Illustration: 034] + +The expediency of misery had begotten the expediency of morals, and in +all the turnings and windings of their shifty natures you could see the +suggestions of that abject destitution which had eaten into their very +hearts. It would have puzzled a moralist to analyze these “gnarled +natures,” wherein some of the best and some of the worst features of +humanity warred and struggled together. Who could dare to call them +kind-hearted or malevolent, grateful or ungrateful, free-giving or +covetous, faithful or capricious, as a people? Why, they were all these, +and fifty other things just as opposite besides, every twenty-four +hours of their lives! Their moods of mind ranged from one extreme to the +other; nothing had any permanency amongst them but their wretchedness. +Of all their qualities, however, that which most obstructed their +improvement, ate deepest into their natures, and suggested the worst +fears for the future, was suspicion. They trusted nothing,--none,--so +that every benefit bestowed on them came alloyed with its own share of +doubt; and all the ingenuity of their crafty minds found congenial +occupation in ascribing this or that motive to every attempt to better +their condition. + +Mary Martin knew them--understood them--as well as most people; few, +indeed, out of their own actual station of life had seen so much of +their domesticity. From her very childhood she had been conversant with +their habits and their ways. She had seen them patient under the most +trying afflictions, manfully braving every ill of life, and submitting +with a noble self-devotion to inevitable calamity; and she had +also beheld them, with ignorant impatience, resenting the slightest +interference when they deemed it uncalled for, and rejecting kindness +when it came coupled with the suggestion of a duty. + +By considerable skill, and no little patience, she had insinuated a +certain small amount of discipline into this disorderly mass. She could +not succeed in persuading them to approach her one by one, or wait with +any semblance of order while she was yet occupied; but she enforced +conformity with at least one rule, which was, that none should speak +save in answer to some question put by herself. This may seem a very +small matter, and yet to any one who knows the Irish peasant it will +appear little short of miraculous. The passion for discursiveness, the +tendency to make an effective theme of their misery, whatever particular +shape it may assume, is essentially national; and to curb this vent to +native eloquence was to oppose at once the strongest impulse of their +natures. + +Nothing short of actual, tangible benefits could compensate them for +what they scrupled not to think was downright cruelty; nor was it till +after months of steady perseverance on her part that her system could be +said to have attained any success. Many of the most wretched declined to +seek relief on the conditions thus imposed. Some went as actual +rebels, to show their friends and neighbors how they would resist +such intolerance; others, again, professed that they only went out of +curiosity. Strange and incomprehensible people, who can brave every ill +of poverty, endure famine and fever and want, and yet will not bow the +head to a mere matter of form, nor subject themselves to the very least +restriction when a passion or a caprice stands opposed to it! After +about eighteen months of hard persistence the system began at length +to work; the refractory spirits had either refrained from coming or +had abandoned the opposition; and now a semblance of order pervaded +the motley assemblage. Whenever the slightest deviation from the ritual +occurred, a smart tap of a small ivory ruler on the table imposed +silence; and they who disregarded the warning were ordered to move by, +unattended to. Had a stranger been permitted, therefore, to take a peep +at these proceedings, he would have been astonished at the rapidity with +which complaints were heard, and wants redressed; for, with an instinct +thoroughly native, Mary Martin appreciated the cases which came before +her, and rarely or never confounded the appeal of real suffering with +the demands of fictitious sorrow. Most of those who came were desirous +of tickets for Dispensary aid; for sickness has its permanent home in +the Irish cabin, and fever lurks amidst the damp straw and the smoky +atmosphere of the poor peasant's home. Some, however, came for articles +of clothing, or for aid to make and repair them; others for some little +assistance in diet, barley for a sick man's drink, a lemon or an orange +to moisten the parched lips of fever; others, again, wanted leave +to send a grandchild or a niece to the school; and, lastly, a few +privileged individuals appeared to claim their weekly rations of snuff +or tobacco,--little luxuries accorded to old age,--comforts that solaced +many a dreary hour of a joyless existence. Amongst all the crowded mass +there was not one whom Mary had not known and visited in their humble +homes. Thoroughly conversant with their condition and their necessities, +she knew well their real wants; and if one less hopeful than herself +might have despaired to render any actual relief to such widespread +misery, she was sanguine enough to be encouraged by the results before +her, small and few as they were, to think that possibly the good time +was yet to come when such efforts would be unneeded, and when Ireland's +industry, employed and rewarded, would more than suffice for all the +requirements of her humble poor. + +“Jane Maloney,” said Mary, placing a small packet on the table, “give +this to Sally Kieran as you pass her door; and here 's the order for +your own cloak.” + +“May the heavens be your bed. May the holy--” + +“Catty Honan,” cried Mary, with a gesture to enforce silence. “Catty, +your granddaughter never comes to the school now that she has got leave. +What's the reason of that?” + +“Faix, your reverance, miss, 'tis ashamed she is by ray-son of her +clothes. She says Luke Cassidy's daughters have check aprons.” + +“No more of this, Catty. Tell Eliza to come on Monday, and if I 'm +satisfied with her she shall have one too.” + +“Two ounces of tea for the Widow Jones.” + +“Ayeh,” muttered an old hag. “But it's weak it makes it without a little +green in it!” + +“How are the pains, Sarah?” asked Mary, turning to a very feeble-looking +old creature with crutches. + +“Worse and worse, my Lady. With every change of the weather they come on +afresh.” + +“The doctor will attend you, Sally, and if he thinks wine good for you, +you shall have it.” + +“'T is that same would be the savin' of me, Miss Mary,” said a +cunning-eyed little woman, with a tattered straw bonnet on her head, and +a ragged shawl over her. + +“I don't think so, Nancy. Come up to the house on Monday morning and +help Mrs. Taafe with the bleaching.” + +“So this is the duplicate, Polly?” said she, taking a scrap of paper +from an old woman whose countenance indicated a blending of dissipation +with actual want. + +“One-and-fourpence was all I got on it, and trouble enough it gave +me.” These words she uttered with a heavy sigh, and in a tone at once +resentful and complaining. + +“Were my uncle to know that you had pawned your cloak, Polly, he 'd +never permit you to cross his threshold.” + +“Ayeh, it's a great sin, to be sure,” whined out the hag, half +insolently. + +“A great shame and a great disgrace it certainly is; and I shall stop +all relief to you till the money be paid back.” + +“And why not!” “To be sure!” “Miss Mary is right!” “What else could she +do?” broke in full twenty sycophant voices, who hoped to prefer their +own claims by the cheap expedient of condemning another. + +“The Widow Hannigan.” + +“Here, miss,” simpered out a smiling little old creature, with a +courtesy, as she held up a scroll of paper in her hand. + +“What 's this, Widow Hannigan?” + +“'T is a picture Mickey made of you, miss, when you was out riding that +day with the hounds; he saw you jumping a stone wall.” + +Mary smiled at the performance, which certainly did not promise future +excellence, and went on,-- + +“Tell Mickey to mend his writing; his was the worst copy in the class; +and here's a card for your daughter's admission into the Infirmary. By +the way, widow, which of the boys was it I saw dragging the river on +Wednesday?” + +“Faix, miss, I don't know. Sure it was none of ours would dare to--” + +“Yes, they would, any one of them; but I 'll not permit it; and what's +more, widow, if it occur again, I 'll withdraw the leave I gave to fish +with a rod. + +“Teresa Johnson, your niece is a very good child, and promises to be +very handy with her needle. Let her hem these handkerchiefs, and there's +a frock for herself. My uncle says Tom shall have half his wages paid +him till he's able to come to work again.” + +But why attempt to follow out what would be but the long, unending +catalogue of native misery,--that dreary series of wants and privations +to which extreme destitution subjects a long-neglected and helpless +people? There was nothing from the cradle to the coffin, from the first +wailing wants of infancy to the last requirement of doting old age, that +they did not stand in need of. + +A melancholy spectacle, indeed, was it to behold an entire population so +steeped in misery, so utterly inured to wretchedness, that they felt +no shame at its exposure, but rather a sort of self-exultation at any +opportunity of displaying a more than ordinary amount of human suffering +and sorrow;--to hear them how they caressed their afflictions, how they +seemed to fondle their misfortunes, vying with each other in calamity, +and bidding higher and higher for a little human sympathy. + +Mary Martin set herself stoutly to combat this practice, including, as +it does, one of the most hopeless features of the national character. To +inculcate habits of self-reliance she was often driven, in violation of +her own feelings, to favor those who least needed assistance, but whose +efforts to improve their condition might serve as an example. With a +people who are such consummate actors she was driven into simulation +herself, and paraded sentiments of displeasure and condemnation when +her very heart was bursting with pity and compassion. No wonder was it, +then, that she rejoiced when this painful task was completed, and she +found herself in the more congenial duty of looking over the “young +stock,” and listening to old Barny's predictions about yearlings and +two-year-olds. + +This young girl, taught to read by a lady's maid, and to sew by a +housekeeper, possessed scarcely any of the resources so usual to those +in her own condition, and was of sheer necessity thrown upon herself +for occupation and employment. Her intense sympathy with the people, +her fondness for them even in their prejudices, had suggested the whole +story of her life. Her uncle took little or no interest in the details +of his property. The indolence in which he first indulged from liking, +became at last a part of his very nature, and he was only too well +pleased to see the duty undertaken by another which had no attraction +for himself. + +“Miss Mary will look to it”--“Tell my niece of it”--“Miss Martin will +give her orders,” were the invariable replies by which he escaped all +trouble, and suffered the whole weight of labor and responsibility to +devolve upon a young girl scarcely out of her teens, until gradually, +from the casual care of a flower-garden, or a childish pleasure in +giving directions, she had succeeded to the almost unlimited rule of +her uncle's house and his great estate. + +Mr. Martin was often alarmed at some of his niece's measures of reform. +The large sums drawn out of bank, the great expenses incurred in weekly +wages, the vast plans of building, draining, road-making, and even +bridging, terrified him; while the steward, Mr. Henderson, slyly +insinuated, that though Miss Mary was a wonderful manager, and the “best +head he ever knew, except my Lady's,” she was dreadfully imposed on by +the people--but, to be sure, “how could a young lady be up to them?” + But she was up to them, aye, and more still, she was up to Mr. Henderson +himself, notwithstanding his mild, douce manner, his cautious reserve, +and his unbroken self-possession. + +It is very far from my intention to say that Mary Martin was not over +and over again the dupe of some artifice or other of the crafty and +subtle natures that surrounded her. Mock misery, mock industry, mock +enlightenment, mock conviction, even mock submission and resignation, +had all their partial successes; and she was entrapped by many a +pretence that would have had no chance of imposing on Mr. Henderson. +Still there was a credit side to this account, wherein his name would +not have figured. There were traits of the people, which he neither +could have understood or valued. There were instincts--hard struggling +efforts, fighting their way through all the adverse circumstances of +their poverty--that he never could have estimated, much less could he +have speculated on the future to which they might one day attain. + +If Mary was heart and soul devoted to her object,--if she thought of +nothing else,--if all her dreams by night and all her daily efforts +were in the cause, she was by no means insensible to the flattery which +constantly beset her. She accepted it readily and freely, laughing at +what she persuaded herself to believe was the mere exuberance of that +national taste for praise. Like most warm and impulsive natures, she +was greedy of approbation; even failure itself was consoled by a word +of encomium on the effort. She liked to be thought active, clever, and +energetic. She loved to hear the muttered voices which at any moment of +difficulty said, “Faix, Miss Mary will find the way to it;” or, “Sure +it won't baffle _her_, anyhow.” This confidence in her powers stimulated +and encouraged her, often engendering the very resources it imputed. + +She might have made many a mistake in the characters of those for whom +she was interested,--conceived many a false hope,--nurtured many a +delusive expectation; but in the scheme of life she had planned out +for herself, the exalting sense of a duty more than recompensed her +for every failure: and if any existence could be called happy, it +was hers,--the glorious excitement of an open-air life, with all +its movements and animation. There was that amount of adventure +and enterprise which gave a character of romantic interest to her +undertakings, and thus elevated her to a degree of heroism to herself, +and then, knowing no fatigue, she was again in the saddle, and, straight +as the crow flies, over the county to Kyle's Wood. + +A solitary cabin or two stood in the midst of the wild, bleak plain, and +by these she paused for a few minutes. The watchful eyes that followed +her as she went, and the muttered blessings that were wafted after her, +proclaimed what her mission had been, and showed how she had for a brief +space thrown a gleam of sunshine over the darksome gloom of some sad +existence. + +“God bless her! she's always cheerful and light-hearted,” said the poor +peasant, as he leaned on his spade to look after her; “and one feels +better the whole day after the sight of her!” + + + + +CHAPTER II. KILKIERAN BAY + +In one of the many indentures of Kilkieran Bay,--favored by a +southerly aspect and a fine sandy beach, sheltered by two projecting +headlands,--stood a little row of cabins, originally the dwellings of +poor fishermen, but now, in summer-time, the resort of the neighboring +gentry, who frequented the coast for sea-bathing. There was little +attempt made by the humble owners to accommodate the habits of the +wealthy visitors. Some slight effort at neatness, or some modest +endeavor at internal decoration, by a little window-curtain or a rickety +chest of drawers, were the very extent of these pretensions. Year by +year the progress of civilization went thus lazily forward; and, far +from finding fault with this backwardness, it was said that the visitors +were just as well satisfied. Many hoped to see the place as they +remembered it in their own childhood, many were not sorry to avail +themselves of its inexpensive life and simple habits, and some were more +pleased that its humble attractions could draw no strangers to sojourn +there to mock by their more costly requirements the quiet ways of the +old residents. + +Under the shelter of a massive rock, which formed the northern boundary +of the little bay, stood one building of more pretension. It was a +handsome bathing-lodge, with a long veranda towards the sea, and an +effort, not very successful, however, at a little flower-garden in +front. The spacious bay-windows, which opened in French fashion, were +of plate-glass; the deep projecting eave was ornamented with a handsome +cornice; and the entire front had been richly decorated by entablatures +in stucco and common cement. Still, somehow, there seemed to be a +spiteful resistance in the climate to such efforts at embellishment. +The wild hurricanes that swept over the broad Atlantic were not to be +withstood by the frail timbers of the Gothic veranda. The sweeping gusts +that sent foaming spray high over the rocky cliffs shattered the costly +panes, and smashed even the mullions that held them; while fragments of +carving, or pieces of stuccoed tracery, together with broken vases and +uprooted shrubs, littered the garden and the terrace. The house was but +a few years built, and yet was already dilapidated and ruinous-looking. +A stout stone wall had replaced the trellised woodwork of one side of +the porch; some of the windows were firmly barricaded with boards on the +outside; and iron cramps and other appliances equally unsightly on the +roof, showed by what means the slates were enabled to resist the storms. + +The aspect of consistent poverty never inspires ridicule. It is shabby +gentility alone that provokes the smile of sarcastic meaning; and thus +the simple dwellings of the fishermen, in all their humility, offered +nothing to the eye of critical remark. There seemed abundant absurdity +in this attempt to defy climate and aspect, place and circumstance; and +every effort to repair an accident but brought out the pretension into +more glaring contrast. The “Osprey's Nest,” as Lady Dorothea Martin had +styled her bathing-lodge, bore, indeed, but a sorry resemblance to its +water-colored emblem in the plan of the architect; for Mr. Kirk had not +only improvised a beautiful villa, with fuchsias and clematis and +moss-roses clustering on it, but he had invented an Italian sky, and +given a Lago Maggiore tint to the very Atlantic. Your fashionable +architect is indeed a finished romancer, and revels in the license of +his art with a most voluptuous abandonment. + +It was now, however, late in the autumn; some warnings of the +approaching equinox had already been felt, and the leaden sky above, and +the dark-green, sullen sea beneath, above which a cold northwester swept +gustily, recalled but little of the artistic resemblance. + +The short September day was drawing to a close, and it was just that +dreary interval between day and dusk, so glorious in fine weather, +but so terribly depressing in the cold ungenial season, as all the +frequenters of the little bay were hastening homeward for the night. +Already a twinkling candle or two showed that some had retired to +their humble shealings to grumble over the discomforts about them, and +speculate on a speedy departure. They who visited Kilkieran during the +“season” were usually the gentry families of the neighborhood; but +as the summer wore over, their places were occupied by a kind of +“half-price company,”--shopkeepers and smart residents of Oughterard, +who waited for their pleasure till it could be obtained economically. +Of this class were now those on the evening I have mentioned, and to a +small select party of whom I now desire to introduce my reader. + +It was “Mrs. Cronan's Evening”--for the duty of host was taken +in rotation--and Mrs. Cronan was one of the leaders of fashion in +Oughterard, for she lived on her own private means, at the top of +Carraway Street, entertained Father Maher every Sunday at dinner, and +took in the “Galway Intelligence,” which, it is but fair to say, was, +from inverted letters and press blunders, about as difficult reading as +any elderly lady ever confronted. + +Mrs. Cronan was eminently genteel,--that is to say, she spent her life +in unceasing lamentations over the absence of certain comforts “she +was always used to,” and passed her days in continual reference to some +former state of existence, which, to hear her, seemed almost borrowed +bodily out of the “Arabian Nights.” Then there was Captain Bodkin, of +the Galway Fencibles,--a very fat, asthmatic old gentleman, who came +down to the “salt water” every summer for thirty years, fully +determined to bathe, but never able to summon courage to go in. He was +a kind-hearted, jolly old fellow, who loved strong punch and long whist, +and cared very little how the world went on, if these enjoyments were +available. + +Then there was Miss Busk, a very tall, thin, ghostly personage, with a +pinkish nose and a pinched lip, but whose manners were deemed the very +type of high breeding, for she courtesied or bowed at almost +minute intervals during an “Evening,” and had a variety of personal +reminiscences of the Peerage. She was of “an excellent family,” Mrs. +Cronan always said; and though reduced by circumstances, she was the +Swan and Edgar of Oughterard,--“was company for the Queen herself.” + +The fourth hand in the whist-table was usually taken by Mrs. Nelligan, +wife of “Pat Nelligan,” the great shopkeeper of Oughterard, and who, +though by no means entitled on heraldic grounds to take her place in any +such exalted company, was, by the happy accident of fortune, elevated to +this proud position. Mrs. Nelligan being unwell, her place was, on the +present occasion, supplied by her son; and of him I would fain say a few +words, since the reader is destined to bear company with him when the +other personages here referred to have been long forgotten. + +Joseph Nelligan was a tall, pale young fellow who, though only just +passed twenty-two, looked several years older; the serious, thoughtful +expression of his face giving the semblance of age. His head was large +and massively shaped, and the temples were strong and square, deeply +indented at the sides, and throwing the broad, high forehead into +greater prominence; dark eyes, shaded by heavy, black eyebrows, lent +an almost scowling character to a face which, regular in feature, was +singularly calm and impassive-looking. His voice was deep, low, and +sonorous, and though strongly impressed with the intonation of his +native province, was peculiarly soft, and, to Irish ears, even musical. +He was, however, remarkably silent; rarely or never conversed, as his +acquaintances understood conversation, and only when roused by some +theme that he cared for, or stimulated by some assertion that he +dissented from, was he heard to burst forth into a rapid flow of words, +uttered as though under the impulse of passion, and of which, when +ended, he seemed actually to feel ashamed himself. + +He was no favorite with the society of Kilkieran; some thought him +downright stupid; others regarded him as a kind of spy upon his +neighbors,--an imputation most lavishly thrown out in every circle where +there is nothing to detect, and where all the absurdity lies palpable on +the surface; and many were heard to remark that he seemed to forget who +he was, and that “though he was a college student, he ought to remember +he was only Pat Nelligan's son.” + +If he never courted their companionship, he as little resented their +estrangement from him. He spent his days and no small share of his +nights in study; books supplied to him the place of men, and in their +converse he forgot the world. His father's vanity had entered him as +a Fellow-Commoner in the University, and even this served to widen +the interval between him and those of his own age; his class-fellows +regarded his presence amongst them as an intolerable piece of low-bred +presumption. Nor was this unkindly feeling diminished when they saw him, +term after term, carry away the prizes of each examination; for equally +in science as in classics was he distinguished, till at length it became +a current excuse for failure when a man said, “I was in Nelligan's +division.” + +It is not impossible that his social isolation contributed much to his +success. For him there were none of the amusements which occupy those of +his own age. The very fact of his fellow-commoner's gown separated him +as widely from one set of his fellow-students as from the other, and +thus was he left alone with his ambition. As time wore on, and his +successes obtained wider notoriety, some of those in authority in the +University appeared to be disposed to make advances to him; but he +retreated modestly from these marks of notice, shrouding himself in +his obscurity, and pleading the necessity for study. At length came +the crowning act of his college career, in the examination for the gold +medal; and although no competitor was bold enough to dispute the prize +with him, he was obliged to submit to the ordeal. It is rarely that the +public vouchsafes any interest in the details of University honors; but +this case proved an exception, and almost every journal of the capital +alluded in terms of high paneygric to the splendid display he made on +that occasion. + +In the very midst of these triumphs, young Nelligan arrived at his +father's house in Oughterard, to enjoy the gratification his success had +diffused at home, and rest himself after his severe labors. Little as +old Pat Nelligan of his neighbors knew of University honors, or the +toil which won them, there was enough in the very publicity of his son's +career to make him a proud man. He at least knew that Joe had beaten +them all; that none could hold a candle to him; “that for nigh a century +such answering had not been heard on the bench.” This was the expression +of a Dublin journal, coupled with the partisan regret that, by the +bigoted statutes of the college, genius of such order should be denied +the privilege of obtaining a fellowship. + +If young Nelligan retired, half in pride, half in bashful-ness, from the +notice of society in Dublin, he was assuredly little disposed to enter +into the gayeties and dissipations of a small country-town existence. +The fulsome adulation of some, the stupid astonishment of others, but, +worse than either, the vulgar assumption that his success was a kind of +party triumph,--a blow dealt by the plebeian against the patrician, the +Papist against the Protestant,--shocked and disgusted him, and he was +glad to leave Oughterard and accompany his mother to the seaside. She +was an invalid of some years' standing,--a poor, frail, simple-hearted +creature, who, after a long, struggling life of hardship and toil, saw +herself in affluence and comfort, and yet could not bring her mind to +believe it true. As little could she comprehend the strange fact of +Joe's celebrity; of his name figuring in newspapers, and his health +being drunk at a public dinner in his native town. To her he was +invaluable; the very tenderest of nurses, and the best of all +companions. She did n't care for books, even those of the most amusing +kind; but she loved to hear the little gossip of the place where the +neighbors passed the evening; what topics they discussed; who had left +and who had arrived, and every other little incident of their uneventful +lives. Simple and easy of execution as such an office might have been +to a kindred spirit, to Joseph Nelligan it proved no common labor. And +certain it is that the mistakes he committed in names, and the blunders +he fell into as regarded events, rather astonished his mother, and +led that good lady to believe that Trinity College must not have +been fertile in genius when poor Joe was regarded as one of the great +luminaries of his time. “Ah,” would she say, “if he had his father's +head it would be telling him! but, poor boy, he remembers nothing!” + +This digression--far longer than I cared to make it, but which has grown +to its present extent under my hands--will explain young Nelligan's +presence at Mrs. Cronan's “Tea,” where already a number of other +notables had now assembled, and were gracefully dispersed through the +small rooms which formed her apartment. Play of various kinds formed the +chief amusement of the company; and while the whist-table, in decorous +gravity, held the chief place in the sitting-room, a laughing round game +occupied the kitchen, and a hardly contested “hit” of backgammon +was being fought out on the bed, where, for lack of furniture, the +combatants had established themselves. + +The success of an evening party is not always proportionate to the means +employed to secure it. Very splendid _salons_, costly furniture, +and what newspapers call “all the delicacies of the season,” are +occasionally to be found in conjunction with very dull company; while +a great deal of enjoyment and much social pleasure are often to be +met with where the material resources have been of the fewest and most +simple kind. On the present occasion there was a great deal of laughing, +and a fair share of love-making; some scolding at whist, and an +abundance of scandal, at least of that cut-and-thrust-at character which +amuses the speakers themselves, and is never supposed to damage those +who are the object of it. All the company who had frequented the +port--as Kilkieran was called--during the season were passed in review, +and a number of racy anecdotes interchanged about their rank, morals, +fortune, and pretensions. A very general impression seemed to prevail +that in the several points of climate, scenery, social advantages, and +amusements, Kilkieran might stand a favorable comparison with the first +watering-places, not alone of England, but the Continent; and after +various discursive reasons why its fame had not equalled its deserts, +there was an almost unanimous declaration of opinion that the whole +fault lay with the Martins; not, indeed, that the speakers were very +logical in their arguments, since some were heard to deplore the change +from the good old times, when everybody was satisfied to live anywhere +and anyhow, when there was no road to the place but a bridle-path, not +a loaf of bread to be had within twelve miles, no post-office; while +others eloquently expatiated on all that might have been, and yet was +not done. + +“We tried to get up a little news-room,” said Captain Bodkin, “and I +went to Martin myself about it, but he hum'd and ha'd, and said, until +people subscribed for the Dispensary he thought they needn't mind +newspapers.” + +“Just like him,” said Mrs. Cronan; “but, indeed, I think it's my Lady +does it all.” + +“I differ from you, ma'am,” said Miss Busk, with a bland smile; “I +attribute the inauspicious influence to another.” + +“You mean Miss Martin?” said Mrs. Cronan. + +“Just so, ma'am; indeed, I have reason to know I am correct. This time +two years it was I went over to Cro' Martin House to propose opening 'my +Emporium' for the season at the port. I thought it was due to the owners +of the estate, and due to myself also,” added Miss Busk, majestically, +“to state my views about a measure so intimately associated with +the--the--in fact, what I may call the interests of civilization. I +had just received my plates of the last fashions from Dublin,--you may +remember them, ma'am; I showed them to you at Mrs. Cullenane's--well, +when I was in the very middle of my explanation, who should come into +the room but Miss Martin--” + +“Dressed in the old brown riding-habit?” interposed a fat old lady with +one eye. + +“Yes, Mrs. Few, in the old brown riding-habit. She came up to the table, +with a saucy laugh in her face, and said, 'Why, uncle, are you going to +give a fancy ball?' + +“'It is the last arrival from Paris, miss,' said I; 'the Orleans mantle, +which, though not a “costume de Chasse,” is accounted very becoming.' + +“'Ah, you 're laughing at my old habit, Miss Busk,' said she, seeing +how I eyed her; 'and it really is very shabby, but I intend to give Dan +Leary a commission to replace it one of these days.'” + +“Dan Leary, of the Cross-roads!” exclaimed Captain Bodkin, laughing. + +“I pledge you my word of honor, sir, she said it. 'And as to all this +finery, Miss Busk,' said she, turning over the plates with her whip, 'it +would be quite unsuitable to our country, our climate, and our habits; +not to say, that the Orleans mantle would be worn with an ill grace when +our people are going half naked!'” + +“Positively indecent! downright indelicate!” shuddered Mrs. Cronan. + +“And did Martin agree with her?” asked the Captain. + +“I should like to know when he dared to do otherwise. Why, between my +lady and the niece he can scarcely call his life his own.” + +“They say he has a cruel time of it,” sighed Mr. Clinch, the +revenue-officer, who had some personal experience of domestic slavery. + +“Tush,--nonsense!” broke in his wife. “I never knew one of those +hen-pecked creatures that was n't a tyrant in his family. I 'll engage, +if the truth were known, Lady Dorothy has the worst of it.” + +“Faith, and he's much altered from what he was when a boy, if any +one rules him,” said the captain. “I was at school with him and his +twin-brother Barry. I remember the time when one of them had to wear a +bit of red ribbon in his button-hole to distinguish him from the other. +They were the born images of each other,--that is, in looks; for in +real character they were n't a bit like. Godfrey was a cautious, quiet, +careful chap that looked after his pocket-money, and never got into +scrapes; and Barry was a wasteful devil that made the coin fly, and +could be led by any one. I think he 'd have given his life for his +brother any day. I remember once when Godfrey would n't fight a boy,--I +forget what it was about; Barry stole the bit of ribbon out of his coat, +and went up and fought in his place; and a mighty good thrashing he got, +too.” + +“I have heard my father speak of that,” said a thin, pale, careworn +little man in green spectacles; “for the two boys were taken away at +once, and it was the ruin of the school.” + +“So it was, doctor; you're right there,” broke in the Captain; “and they +say that Martin bears a grudge against you to this day.” + +“That would be hard,” sighed the meek doctor; “for I had nothing to +do with it, or my father, either. But it cost him dearly!” added he, +mournfully. + +“You know best, doctor, whether it is true or not; but he certainly was +n't your friend when you tried for the Fever Hospital.” + +“That was because Pat Nelligan was on my committee,” said the doctor. + +“And was that sufficient to lose you Mr. Martin's support, sir?” asked +young Nelligan, with a degree of astonishment in his face, that, joined +to the innocence of the question, caused a general burst of hearty +laughter. + +“The young gentleman knows more about _cubic_ sections, it appears, +than of what goes on in his own town,” said the Captain. “Why, sir, +your father is the most independent man in all Oughterard; and if I know +Godfrey Martin, he 'd give a thousand guineas this night to have him out +of it.” + +A somewhat animated “rally” followed this speech, in which different +speakers gave their various reasons why Martin ought or ought not to +make any sacrifice to put down the spirit of which Pat Nelligan was the +chief champion. These arguments were neither cogent nor lucid enough to +require repeating; nor did they convey to Joseph himself, with all +his anxiety for information, the slightest knowledge on the subject +discussed. Attention was, however, drawn off the theme by the clattering +sound of a horse passing along the shingly shore at a smart gallop; +and with eager curiosity two or three rushed to the door to see what +it meant. A swooping gust of wind and rain, overturning chairs and +extinguishing candles, drove them suddenly back again; and, half +laughing at the confusion, half cursing the weather, the party +barricaded the door, and returned to their places. + +“Of course it was Miss Martin; who else would be out at this time of the +night?” said Mrs. Clinch. + +“And without a servant!” exclaimed Miss Busk. + +“Indeed, you may well make the remark, ma'am,” said Mrs. Cronan. “The +young lady was brought up in a fashion that was n't practised in my +time!” + +“Where could she have been down that end of the port, I wonder?” said +Mrs. Clinch. “She came up from Garra Cliff.” + +“Maybe she came round by the strand,” said the doctor; “if she did, I +don't think there 's one here would like to have followed her.” + +“I would n't be her horse!” said one; “nor her groom!” muttered another; +and thus, gradually lashing themselves into a wild indignation, they +opened, at last, a steady fire upon the young lady,--her habits, her +manners, and her appearance all coming in for a share of criticism; and +although a few modest amendments were put in favor of her horsemanship +and her good looks, the motion was carried that no young lady ever took +such liberties before, and that the meeting desired to record their +strongest censure on the example thus extended to their own young +people. + +If young Nelligan ventured upon a timid question of what it was she +had done, he was met by an eloquent chorus of half a dozen voices, +recounting mountain excursions which no young lady had ever made before; +distant spots visited, dangers incurred, storms encountered, perils +braved, totally unbecoming to her in her rank of life, and showing that +she had no personal respect, nor--as Miss Busk styled it--“a +proper sense of the dignity of woman!” + +“'T was down at Mrs. Nelligan's, ma'am, Miss Mary was,” said Mrs. +Cronan's maid, who had been despatched special to make inquiry on the +subject. + +“At my mother's!” exclaimed Joseph, reddening, without knowing in the +least why. And now a new diversion occurred, while all discussed every +possible and impossible reason for this singular fact, since the family +at the “Nest” maintained no intercourse whatever with their neighbors, +not even seeming, by any act of their lives, to acknowledge their very +existence. + +Young Nelligan took the opportunity to make his escape during the +debate; and as the society offers nothing very attractive to detain us, +it will be as well if we follow him, while he hastened homeward along +the dark and storm-lashed beach. He had about a mile to go, and, short +as was this distance, it enabled him to think over what he had just +heard, strange and odd as it seemed to his ears. Wholly given up, as he +had been for years past, to the ambition of a college life, with but one +goal before his eyes, one class of topics engrossing his thoughts, he +had never even passingly reflected on the condition of parties, the +feuds of opposing factions, and, stronger than either, the animosities +that separated social ranks in Ireland. Confounding the occasional +slights he had experienced by virtue of his class, with the jealousy +caused by his successes, he had totally overlooked the disparagement men +exhibited towards the son of the little country shopkeeper, and never +knew of his disqualification for a society whose precincts he had not +tried to pass. The littleness, the unpurpose-like vacuity, the intense +vulgarity of his Oughterard friends had disgusted him, it is true; but +he had yet to learn that the foolish jealousy of their wealthy +neighbor was a trait still less amiable, and ruminating over these +problems,--knottier far to him than many a complex formula or many a +disputed reading of a Greek play,--he at last reached the solitary +little cabin where his mother lived. + +It is astonishing how difficult men of highly cultivated and actively +practised minds find it to comprehend the little turnings and windings +of commonplace life, the jealousies and the rivalries of small people. +They search for motives where there are merely impulses, and look for +reasons when there are simple passions. + +It was only as he lifted the latch that he remembered how deficient +he was in all the information his mother would expect from him. Of the +fortunes of the whist-table he actually knew nothing; and had he been +interrogated as to the “toilette” of the party, his answers would have +betrayed a lamentable degree of ignorance. Fortunately for him, his +mother did not display her habitual anxiety on these interesting themes. +She neither asked after the Captain's winnings,--he was the terror of +the party,--nor whether Miss Busk astonished the company by another new +gown. Poor Mrs. Nelligan was too brimful of another subject to admit +of one particle of extraneous matter to occupy her. With a proud +consciousness, however, of her own resources, she affected to have +thoughts for other things, and asked Joe if he passed a pleasant day? + +“Yes, very--middling--quite so--rather stupid, I thought,” replied he, +in his usual half-connected manner, when unable to attach his mind to +the question before him. + +“Of, course, my dear, it's very unlike what you 're used to up in +Dublin, though I believe that Captain Bodkin, when he goes there, always +dines with the Lord-Lieutenant; and Miss Busk, I know, is second cousin +to Ram of Swainestown, and there is nothing better than that in Ireland. +I say this between ourselves, for your father can't bear me to talk of +family or connections, though I am sure I was always brought up to +think a great deal about good blood; and if my father was a Finnerty, my +mother was a Moore of Crockbawn, and her family never looked at her for +marrying my father.” + +“Indeed!” said Joe, in a dreamy semi-consciousness. + +“It's true what I 'm telling you. She often said it to me herself, and +told me what a blessing it was, through all her troubles and trials in +life; and she had her share of them, for my father was often in drink, +and very cruel at times. 'It supports me,' she used to say, 'to remember +who I am, and the stock I came from, and to know that there 's not one +belonging to me would speak to me, nor look at the same side of the road +with me, after what I done; and, Matty,' said she to me, 'if ever it +happens to you to marry a man beneath you in life, always bear in +mind that, no matter how he treats you, you 're better than him.' And, +indeed, it's a great support and comfort to one's feelings, after all,” + said she, with a deep sigh. + +“I'm certain of it,” muttered Joe, who had not followed one word of the +harangue. + +“But mind that you never tell your father so. Indeed, I would n't let on +to him what happened this evening.” + +“What was that?” asked the young man, roused by the increased anxiety of +her manner. + +“It was a visit I had, my dear,” replied the old lady, with a simpering +consciousness that she had something to reveal,--“it was a visit I had +paid me, and by an elegant young lady, too.” + +“A young lady? Not Miss Cassidy, mother. I think she left yesterday +morning.” + +“No, indeed, my dear. Somebody very different from Miss Cassidy; and you +might guess till you were tired before you 'd think of Miss Martin.” + +“Miss Martin!” echoed Joe. + +“Exactly so. Miss Martin of Cro' Martin; and the way it happened was +this. I was sitting here alone in the room after my tea,--for I sent +Biddy out to borrow the 'Intelligence' for me; and then comes a sharp +knock to the door, and I called out, 'Come in;' but instead of doing so +there was another rapping, louder than before, and I said, 'Bother you, +can't you lift the latch?' and then I heard something like a laugh, and +so I went out; and you may guess the shame I felt as I saw a young +lady fastening the bridle of her horse to the bar of the window. 'Mrs. +Nelli-gan, I believe,' said she, with a smile and a look that warmed +my heart to her at once; and as I courtesied very low, she went on. I +forget, indeed, the words,--whether she said she was Miss Martin, or +it was I that asked the question; but I know she came in with me to the +room, and sat down where you are sitting now. 'Coming back from Kyle's +Wood this morning,' said she, 'I overtook poor Billy with the post. He +was obliged to go two miles out of his way to ford the river; and what +with waiting for the mail, which was late in coming, and what with being +wet through, he was completely knocked up; so I offered to take the bag +for him, and send it over to-morrow by one of our people. But the poor +fellow would n't consent, because he was charged with something of +consequence for you,--a small bottle of medicine. Of course I was only +too happy to take this also, Mrs. Nelligan, and here it is.' And with +that she put it on the table, where you see it. I 'm sure I never knew +how to thank her enough for her good nature, but I said all that I could +think of, and told her that my son was just come back from college, +after getting the gold medal.” + +“You did n't speak of that, mother,” said he, blushing till his very +forehead was crimson. + +“Indeed, then, I did, Joe; and I 'd like to know why I would n't. Is it +a shame or a disgrace to us! At any rate, _she_ didn't think so, for she +said, 'You must be very proud of him;' and I told her so I was, and that +he was as good as he was clever; and, moreover, that the newspapers said +the time was coming when men like young Nelligan would soar their way up +to honors and distinctions in spite of the oppressive aristocracy that +so long had combined to degrade them.” + +“Good Heavens! mother, you could n't have made such a speech as that?” + cried he, in a voice of downright misery. + +“Did n't I, then? And did n't she say, if there were any such oppression +as could throw obstacles in the way of deserving merit, she heartily +hoped it might prove powerless; and then she got up to wish me +good-evening. I thought, at first, a little stiffly,--that is, more +haughty in her manner than at first; but when I arose to see her out, +and she saw I was lame, she pressed me down into my chair, and said, in +such a kind voice, 'You must n't stir, my dear Mrs. Nelligan. I, who can +find my road over half of the county, can surely discover my way to the +door.' 'Am I ever like to have the happiness of seeing you again, miss?' +said I, as I held her hand in mine. 'Certainly, if it would give you the +very slightest pleasure,' said she, pressing my hand most cordially; and +with that we parted. Indeed, I scarce knew she was gone, when I heard +the clattering of the horse over the shingle; for she was away in +a gallop, dark as the night was. Maybe,” added the old lady, with a +sigh,--“maybe, I 'd have thought it was all a dream if it was n't that I +found that glove of hers on the floor; she dropped it, I suppose, going +out.” + +Young Nelligan took up the glove with a strange feeling of bashful +reverence. It was as though he was touching a sacred relic; and he stood +gazing on it steadfastly for some seconds. + +“I 'll send it over to the house by Biddy, with my compliments, and to +know how the family is, in the morning,” said Mrs. Nelligan, with the +air of one who knew the value of conventional usages. + +“And she 'll make some stupid blunder or other,” replied Joe, +impatiently, “that will cover us all with shame. No, mother, I 'd rather +go with it myself than that.” + +“To be sure, and why not?” said Mrs. Nelligan. “There 's no reason why +_you_ should be taking up old quarrels against the Martins; for _my_ +part, I never knew the country so pleasant as it used to be long ago, +when we used to get leave to go picnicking on the grounds of Cro' +Martin, up to the Hermitage, as they called it; and now the gates are +locked and barred like a jail, and nobody allowed in without a ticket.” + +“Yes, I'll go myself with it,” said Joe, who heard nothing of +his mother's remark, but was following out the tract of his own +speculations. As little did he attend to the various suggestions she +threw out for his guidance and direction, the several topics to which he +might, and those to which he must not, on any account, allude. + +“Not a word, for your life, Joe, about the right of pathway to Clune +Abbey, and take care you say nothing about the mill-race at Glandaff, +nor the shooting in Kyle's Wood. And if by any chance there should be a +talk about the tolls at Oughterard, say you never heard of them before. +Make out, in fact,” said she, summing up, “as if you never heard of +a county where there was so much good-will and kindness between the +people; and sure it is n't your fault if it's not true!” And with this +philosophic reflection Mrs. Nelligan wished her son good-night, and +retired. + + + + +CHAPTER III. AN AUTUMN MORNING IN THE WEST + +The Osprey's Nest was, I have said, like a direct challenge hurled at +the face of western gales and Atlantic storms. With what success, its +aspect of dilapidation and decay but too plainly betrayed. The tangled +seaweed that hung in dripping festoons over the porch, the sea-shells +that rattled against the window-panes, seemed like an angry denunciation +of the attempt to brave the elements by the mere appliances of ease and +luxury. + +It was better, however, in the inside, where, in a roomy apartment, most +comfortably furnished, a lady and gentleman sat at breakfast. The table +stood in a little projection of the room, admitting of a wide sea-view +over the bay and the distant islands of Lettermullen, but as carefully +excluded all prospect of the port,--a locality which held no high place +in the esteem of the lady of the house, and which, by ignoring, she half +fancied she had annihilated. Wild promontories of rocks, jutting out +here and there, broke the coast line, and marked the shore with a +foaming stream of white water, as the ever-restless sea dashed over +them. The long booming swell of the great ocean bounded into many a +rocky cavern, with a loud report like thunder, and issued forth again +with a whole cataract of falling stones, that rattled like the crash +of small-arms. It was unceasing, deafening clamor in the midst of +death-like desolation. + +Let me, however, turn once more to the scene within, and present the +living elements to my reader. They were both past the prime of life. +The lady might still be called handsome; her features were perfectly +regular, and finely cut, bearing the impress of a proud and haughty +spirit that never quailed beneath the conflict of a long life, and even +yet showed a firm front to fortune. Her hair was white as snow; and as +she wore it drawn back, after the fashion of a bygone time, it gave +her the air of a fine lady of the old French Court, in all the pomp of +powder and pomatum. Nor did her dress correct the impression, since the +deep falls of lace that covered her hands, the lengthy stomacher, and +trailing folds of her heavy brocade gown, all showed a lurking fondness +for the distinctive toilette of that era. Lady Dorothea Martin had been +a beauty and an earl's daughter; two facts that not even the seclusion +of the wild west could erase from her memory. + +Mr. Martin himself was no unworthy “pendant” to this portrait. He was +tall and stately, with a lofty forehead, and temples finely and +well fashioned; while full, deep-set blue eyes of the very sternest +determination, and a mouth, every line of which betrayed firmness, gave +the character to a face that also could expand into the most genial +good-fellowship, and become at times the symbol of a pleasant and +convivial Irish gentleman. In his youth he had been a beau of the Court +of Versailles. Scandal had even coupled his name with that of Marie +Antoinette; and more truthful narratives connected him with some of the +most extravagant adventures of that profligate and brilliant period. +After a career of the wildest dissipation and excess, he had married, +late in life, the daughter of the Earl of Exmere, one of the proudest +and poorest names in the British Peerage. Two or three attempts to shine +in the world of London,--not as successful as they were expected to +have proved,--an effort at ascendancy in Irish political life, also a +failure, coupled with disappointment on the score of an only brother, +who had married beneath him, and was reputed to have “lost himself,” + seemed to have disgusted Godfrey Martin with the world, and he had +retired to his lonely mansion in the west, which now for eighteen years +he had scarcely quitted for a single day. + +His only son had joined a cavalry regiment in India a few years before +the period our story opens, and which, I may now state, dates for about +four or five and twenty years back; but his family included a niece, +the only child of his brother, and whose mother had died in giving her +birth. + +Between Mr. Martin and Lady Dorothea, as they sat at breakfast, +little conversation passed. He occupied himself with the newly arrived +newspapers, and she perused a mass of letters which had just come by +that morning's post; certain scraps of the intelligence gleaned from +either of these sources forming the only subjects of conversation +between them. + +“So they have resolved to have a new Parliament. I knew it would come +to that; I always said so; and, as usual, the dissolution finds us +unprepared.” + +“Plantagenet's regiment is ordered to Currachee, wherever that may be,” + said Lady Dorothea, languidly. + +“Call him Harry, and we shall save ourselves some trouble in discussing +him,” replied he, pettishly. “At all events, he cannot possibly be here +in time for the contest; and we must, I suppose, give our support to +Kilmorris again.” + +“Do you mean, after his conduct about the harbor, and the shameful way +he sneaked out of the Port Martin project?” + +“Find anything better, madam; there is the difficulty. Kilmorris is +a gentleman, and no Radical; and, as times go, these are rather rare +qualities.” + +“Lady Sarah Upton's match is off,” said Lady Dorothea, reading from a +note beside her. “Sir Joseph insisted upon the uncontrolled possession +of all her Staffordshire property.” + +“And perfectly right.” + +“Perfectly wrong to give it to him.” + +“A fool if he married without it.” + +“A mean creature she, to accept him on such terms.” + +“The woman is eight-and-thirty,--if not more. I remember her at +Tunbridge. Let me see, what year was it?” + +“I detest dates, and abhor chronologies. Reach me the marmalade,” said +Lady Dorothea, superciliously. + +“What's this balderdash here from the 'Galway Indicator'? 'The haughty +and insolent, aye, and ignorant aristocracy will have to swallow a +bitter draught erelong; and such petty despots as Martin of Cro' Martin +will learn that the day is gone by for their ascendancy in this county.' + +“They tell me we have a law of libel in the land; and yet see how this +scoundrel can dare to drag me by name before the world; and I 'll wager +a thousand pounds I 'd fail to get a verdict against him if I prosecuted +him to-morrow,” said Martin, as he dashed the newspaper to the ground, +and stamped his foot upon it. “We are constantly reading diatribes about +absentee landlords, and the evils of neglected property; but I ask, what +inducements are there held out to any gentleman to reside on his estate, +if every petty scribbler of the press can thus attack and assail him +with impunity?” + +“Is that Mary I see yonder?” asked Lady Dorothea, languidly, as she +lifted her double eye-glass, and then suffered it to fall from her +fingers. + +“So it is, by Jove!” cried Martin, springing up, and approaching the +window. “I wish she 'd not venture out in that small boat in this +treacherous season. What a swell there is, too! The wind is from the +sea.” + +“She's coming in, I fancy,” drawled out Lady Dorothea. + +“How is she to do it, though?” exclaimed he, hurriedly; “the sea is +breaking clear over the piers of the harbor. I can only see one man in +the boat. What rashness! what folly! There, look, they're standing out +to sea again!” And now, throwing open the window, Martin stepped out +on the rocks, over which the white foam flashed by like snow. “What +are they at, Peter? What are they trying to do?” cried he to an old +fisherman, who, with the coil of a net he was just mending on his arm, +had now come down to the shore to watch the boat. + +“They 're doing right, your honor,” said he, touching his cap +respectfully. “'Tis Loony my Lady has in the boat, and there's no better +man in trouble! He's just going to beat out a bit, and then he 'll run +in under the shelter of the blue rocks. Faix, she 's a fine boat, then, +for her size,--look at her now!” + +But Martin had covered his eyes with his hand, while his lips murmured +and moved rapidly. + +“May I never, but they 're letting out the reef!” screamed the old man +in terror. + +“More sail, and in such a sea!” cried Martin, in a voice of horror. + +“Aye, and right, too,” said the fisherman, after a pause; “she 's rising +lighter over the sea, and steers better, besides. It's Miss Mary has the +tiller,” added the old fellow, with a smile. “I 'll lay a shilling she +'s singing this minute.” + +“You think so,” said Martin, glad to catch at this gleam of confidence. + +“I know it well, your honor. I remember one day, off Lettermullen, it +was worse than this. Hurrah!” screamed he out suddenly; “she took in a +great sea that time!” + +“Get out a boat, Peter, at once; what are we standing here for?” cried +Martin, angrily. “Man a boat this instant.” + +“Sure no boat could get out to sea with this wind, sir,” remonstrated +the old man, mildly; “she'd never leave the surf if she had forty men at +her!” + +“Then what's to be done?” + +“Just let them alone; themselves two know as well what to do as any +pair in Ireland, and are as cool besides. There, now, she 's putting her +about, as I said, and she 'll run for the creek.” The frail boat, a mere +speck upon the dark green ocean, seemed now to fly, as with a slackened +sheet she darted over the water. Her course was bent for a little cove +concealed from view by a rugged promontory of rock, up which the old +fisherman now clambered with the alacrity of a younger man. Martin tried +to follow; but overcome by emotion, he was unable, and sat down upon a +ledge of rock, burying his face within his hands. + +By this time the whole fishing population of the little village had +gathered on the beach around the cove, to watch the boat as she came in; +numbers had gone out to meet her, and stood up to their waists in the +white and boiling surf, ready to seize upon the skiff and run her high +and dry upon the sand. Even they were obliged to be lashed together by +a rope, lest the receding waves should carry them out to sea, or the +“under tow” suck them beneath the surface. As the boat came within +speaking distance, a wild shout arose from the shore to “down sail” and +suffer her to come in on her way alone; but with all the canvas spread, +they came flying along, scarce seeming more than to tip the waves as +they skipped over them, while a shower of spray appeared to cover them +as the sea broke upon the stern. Instead of rendering aid, the utmost +the fishermen could do was to clear a path amongst them for the skiff to +pass, as with lightning speed she flitted by and drove her bow high up +on the hard beach. + +A wild, glad cheer of joy and welcome burst from the hearty fishermen +as they crowded about the young girl, who stepped out of the boat with +a heavy bundle in her arms. Her hair hung in great masses over her neck +and shoulders, her cheeks were flushed, and her dark eyes gleamed with +all the excitement of peril and triumph. + +“Here, Margaret,” said she to a young woman, who, pale with terror and +with face streaming in tears, rushed towards her,--“here 's your little +fellow, all safe and sound; I 'd not have put back but for his sake.” + And with this she placed in his mother's arms a little boy of about +three years of age, sound asleep. “He must wait for better weather if +he wants to see his grandmother. And,” added she, laughing, “I scarcely +think you 'll catch me going to sea again with so precious a cargo. Poor +little man!” and she patted his ruddy cheeks; “he behaved so well, like +a stout fisherman's son as he is,--never showed fear for a moment.” + +A murmur of delighted hearts ran through the crowd; some thinking of the +child, but many more in warm admiration of the brave and beautiful young +girl before them. “Loony,” said she to her boatman, “when you 've got +the tackle to rights, come up to the house for your breakfast.” And +with that, and a few words of grateful recognition as she passed, she +clambered up the rock and hastened homeward. + +As for her uncle, no sooner had he heard of her safe arrival on shore +than he hurried back, anxious to reach the house before her. For a +considerable time back Martin had schooled himself into an apparent +indifference about his niece's perils. Lady Dorothea had probably given +the initiative to this feeling by constantly asserting that the young +lady would incur few risks when they ceased to create alarm. + +It was a somewhat ungracious theory, and excited in Martin's mind, when +he first heard it, a sensation the very reverse of agreeable. Without +accepting its truth, however, it made a deep impression upon him, and +at last, by way of policy, he resolved to feign a degree of callous +indifference very foreign to his nature; and, by dint of mere habit, he +at length acquired a semblance of calm under circumstances that sorely +tested his powers of self-control. + +“Has the heroine arrived safe on shore?” asked Lady Dorothea in her own +languid drawl. And Martin almost started at the question, and seemed for +a moment as if the indignation it excited could not be repressed; then +smiling superciliously at the impassive air of her features, he said,-- + +“Yes, and by rare good luck, too! The sea is a terrific one this +morning!” + +“Is it ever anything else in this heavenly climate?” said she, sighing. +“I have counted two fine days since the 8th of June; and, indeed, it +rained a little on one of them.” + +Martin winced impatiently under the remark, but never lifted his eyes +from the newspaper. + +“I had hoped your niece was making arrangements for our return to Cro' +Martin,” said she, querulously, “instead of planning marine excursions. +I told her yesterday, or the day before,--I forget which; but who could +remember time in such a place?--that I was bored to death here. The +observation seems to amuse you, Mr. Martin; but it is a simple fact.” + +“And you are bored to death at Cro' Martin, too, if I mistake not?” said +he, with a very significant dryness. + +“I should think I was, sir; and nothing very astonishing in the +confession, besides.” + +“And Dublin, madam?” + +“Don't speak of it. If one must endure prison discipline, at least +let us have a cell to ourselves. Good-morning, Miss Martin. I hope you +enjoyed your party on the water?” + +This speech was addressed to Mary, who now entered the room dressed in +a plain morning costume, and in her quiet, almost demure look resembling +in nothing the dripping and dishevelled figure that sprung from the +boat. + +“Good-morning, aunt,” said she, gayly. “Good-morning, uncle,” kissing, +as she spoke, his cheek, and patting him fondly on the shoulder. “I saw +you out on the rocks as we were coming in.” + +“Pooh, pooh!” said he, in affected indifference. “I knew there was no +danger--” + +“Yes, but there was, though,” said she, quickly. “If we had n't set all +sail on her, she 'd have been pooped to a certainty; and I can tell you +I was in a rare fright, too.” + +“Oh, indeed; you confess to such an ignoble emotion?” said Lady +Dorothea, with a sneer. + +“That I do, aunt, for I had poor Madge Lennan's little boy on my lap all +the time; and if it came to a swim, I don't see how he was to be saved.” + +“You 'd not have left him to his fate, I suppose?” said Lady Dorothea. + +“I scarcely know what I should have done. I sincerely hope it would have +been my best; but in a moment like that, within sight of home, too--” + Her eyes met her uncle's as she said this; he had raised them from +his newspaper, and bent them fully on her. There was that in their +expression which appealed so strongly to her heart that instead of +finishing her speech she sprung towards him and threw her arms around +his neck. + +“Quite a scene; and I detest scenes,” said Lady Dorothen, as she arose +and swept out of the room contemptuously; but they neither heard the +remark nor noticed her departure. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. MAURICE SCANLAN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. + +About an hour after the occurrence mentioned in our last chapter, the +quiet little village of Kilkieran was startled by the sharp clattering +sounds of horses' feet, as Mr. Scanlan's tandem came slinging along; and +after various little dexterities amid stranded boats, disabled anchors, +and broken capstans, drew up at the gate of the Osprey's Nest. When men +devise their own equipage, they invariably impart to it a strong +infusion of their own idiosyncrasy. The quiet souls who drag through +life in chocolate-colored barouches, with horses indifferently matched, +give no clew to their special characteristics; but your men of tax-carts +and tandems, your Jehus of four-in-hand teams, write their own +biographies in every detail of the “turn-out.” + +[Illustration: 068] + +Maurice Scanlan was a sporting attorney, and from the group of game +cocks neatly painted on the hind panel, to the wiry, well-bred, and +well-looking screws before him, all was indicative of the man. The +conveyance was high and red-wheeled; the nags were a chestnut and a +gray; he drove them without winkers or bearing-reins, wearing his white +hat a very little on ope side, and gracefully tilting his elbow as +he admonished the wheeler with the “crop” of his whip. He was a +good-looking, showy, vulgar, self-sufficient kind of fellow, with +consummate shrewdness in all business transactions, only marred by one +solitary weak point,--an intense desire to be received intimately by +persons of a station above his own, and to seem, at least, to be the +admitted guest of very fashionable society. It was not a very easy +matter to know if this Lord-worship of his was real, or merely affected, +since, certainly, the profit he derived from the assumption was very +considerable, and Maurice was intrusted with a variety of secret-service +transactions, and private affairs for the nobility, which they would +never have dreamed of committing to the hands of their more recognized +advisers. + +If men would have been slow to engage his services in any grave or +important suit, he was invaluable in all the ordinary and constantly +occurring events of this changeful world. He knew every one's +difficulties and embarrassments. There was not a hitch in a settlement, +nor a spavin in your stables, could escape him. He seemed to possess a +kind of intuitive appreciation of a flaw; and he pounced upon a defect +with a rapidity that counterfeited genius. To these gifts he added a +consummate knowledge of his countrymen. He had emerged from the very +humblest class of the people, and he knew them thoroughly; with all +their moods of habitual distrust and momentary enthusiasm,--with all +their phases of sanguine hopefulness he was familiar; and he could mould +and fashion and weld them to his will, as passive subjects as the heated +bar under the hammer of the smith. + +As an electioneering agent he was unequalled. It was precisely the +sphere in which his varied abilities were best exercised; and it was, +besides, an arena in which he was proud of figuring. + +For a while he seemed--at least in his own eyes--to stand on a higher +eminence than the candidate he represented, and to be a more prominent +and far grander personage than his principal. In fact, it was only under +some tacit acknowledgment of this temporary supremacy that his services +were obtainable; his invariable stipulation being that he was to have +the entire and uncontrolled direction of the election. + +Envious tongues and ungenerous talkers did, indeed, say that Maurice +insisted upon this condition with very different objects in view, +and that his unlimited powers found their pleasantest exercise in the +inexplorable realms of secret bribery; however, it is but fair to say +that he was eminently successful, and that one failure alone in his +whole career occurred to show the proverbial capriciousness of fortune. + +With the little borough of Oughterard he had become so identified that +his engagement was regarded as one of the first elements of success. +Hitherto, indeed, the battle had been always an easy one. The Liberal +party--as they pleasantly assumed to style themselves--had gone no +further in opposition than an occasional burst of intemperate language, +and an effort--usually a failure--at a street row during the election. +So little of either energy or organization had marked their endeavors, +that the great leader of the day had stigmatized their town with terms +of heavy censure, and even pronounced them unworthy of the cause. An +emissary, deputed to report upon the political state of the borough, +had described the voters as mere dependants on the haughty purse-proud +proprietor of Cro' Martin, who seemed, even without an effort, to +nominate the sitting member. + +The great measure of the year '29--the Catholic Relief Bill--had now, +however, suggested to even more apathetic constituencies the prospect of +a successful struggle. The thought of being represented by “one of their +own sort” was no mean stimulant to exertion; and the leading spirits of +the place had frequently conferred together as to what steps should +be taken to rescue the borough from the degrading thraldom of an +aristocratic domination. Lord Kilmorris, it is true, was rather popular +with them than the reverse. The eldest son of an Earl, who only cared +to sit in Parliament on easy terms, till the course of time and events +should call him to the Upper House, he never took any very decided +political line, but sat on Tory benches and gave an occasional vote to +Liberal measures, as though foreshadowing that new school who were to +take the field under the middle designation of Conservatives. Some very +remote relationship to Lady Dorothea's family had first introduced him +to the Martins' notice; and partly from this connection, and partly +because young Harry Martin was too young to sit in Parliament, they had +continued to support him to the present time. + +Mr. Martin himself cared very little for politics; had he even cared +more, he would not have sacrificed to them one jot of that indolent, +lazy, apathetic existence which alone he seemed to prize. He was rather +grateful than otherwise to Lord Kilmorris for taking upon him the +trouble of a contest, if there should be such a thing. His greatest +excuse through life, at least to himself, had ever been that he was +“unprepared.” He had been in that unhappy state about everything since +he was born, and so, apparently, was he destined to continue to the very +last. With large resources, he was never prepared for any sudden demand +for money. When called on for any exertion of mind or body, when asked +to assist a friend or rescue a relation from difficulty, he was quite +unprepared; and so convinced was he that this was a fatality under which +he labored, that no sooner had he uttered the expression than he totally +absolved himself from every shadow of reproach that might attach to his +luke-warmness. + +The uncontrolled position he occupied, joined to the solitary isolation +in which he lived, had doubtless engendered this cold and heartless +theory. There was no one to dispute his will,--none to gainsay his +opinions. There was not for him any occasion for the healthful exertion +which is evoked by opposition, and he sunk gradually down into a moping, +listless, well-meaning, but utterly good-for-nothing gentleman, who +would have been marvellously amazed had any one arraigned him for +neglect of his station and its great requirements. + +That such an insolent possibility could be, was only demonstrated to him +in that morning's newspaper. To be called a despot was bad enough, but +a petty despot,--and to be told that such despotism was already +doomed--aroused in him a degree of indignation all the more painful that +the sensation was one he had not experienced for many a year back. Whose +fault was it that such an impertinence had ever been uttered? Doubtless, +Kilmorris's. Some stupid speech, some absurd vote, some ridiculous party +move had brought down this attack upon him; or perhaps it was Mary, with +her new-fangled ideas about managing the estate, her school-houses, and +her model-farms. The ignorant people had possibly revolted against her +interference; or it might be Lady Dorothea herself, whose haughty manner +had given offence; at all events, _he_ was blameless, and strange +to say, either he was not perfectly assured of the fact, or that the +assumption was not pleasant, but he seemed very far from being satisfied +with the explanation. In the agitated mood these feelings produced, a +servant came to inform him that Mr. Scanlan had just arrived. + +“Say I 'm out--I 'm unwell--I don't feel quite myself to-day. Call Miss +Mary to him.” And with an impatient gesture he motioned the servant +away. + +“Miss Mary will be down in a few minutes, sir,” said the man, entering +the room where Mr. Scanlan stood arranging his whiskers before +the chimney-glass, and contemplating with satisfaction his general +appearance. + +“It was Mr. Martin himself, Thomas, that I wanted to see.” + +“I know that, sir, but the Master is n't well this morning; he told me +to send Miss Mary to you.” + +“All right,” said Scanlan, giving a finishing touch to the tie of his +cravat, and then gracefully bestowing his person into an easy-chair. To +common observation he looked perfectly unconcerned in every gesture, +and yet no man felt less at his ease at that moment than Mr. Maurice +Scanlan; and though the cause involves something like a secret, +the reader shall know it. Mr. Scanlan had seen a good deal of the +world--that is, of _his_ world. He had mixed with barristers and +solicitors, “Silk Gowns,” masters in Chancery, and even puisne judges +had he come into contact with; he had mingled in turf experiences with +certain sporting lords and baronets, swapped horses, and betted and +handicapped with men of fortune; he had driven trotting-matches, and +ridden hurdle-races against young heirs to good estates, and somehow +always found himself not inferior in worldly craft and address to those +he came in contact with,--nay, he even fancied that he was occasionally +rather a little more wide awake than his opponents; and what with a +little blustering here, a little blarney there, a dash of mock frankness +to this man, or an air of impulsive generosity to the other,--an +accommodating elasticity, in fact, that extended to morals, manners, +and principles,--he found that he was, as he himself styled it, “a +fair match with equal weights for anything going.” There was but +one individual alone in presence of whom he in reality felt his own +inferiority deeply and painfully; strange to say, that was Miss Martin! +At first sight this would seem almost unintelligible. She was not either +a haughty beauty, presuming on the homage bestowed upon her by high and +distinguished admirers, nor was she any greatly gifted and cultivated +genius dominating over lesser intelligences by the very menace of her +acquirements. She was simply a high-spirited, frank, unaffected girl, +whose good breeding and good sense seemed alike instinctive, and who +read with almost intuition the shallow artifices by which such natures +as Scanlan's impose upon the world. She had seen him easily indolent +with her uncle, obsequiously deferential to my Lady, all in the same +breath, while the side-look of tyranny he could throw a refractory +tenant appeared just as congenial to his nature. + +It was some strange consciousness which told him he could not deceive +_her_, that made Scanlan ever abashed in her presence, and by the +self-same impulse was it that she was the only one in the world for +whose good esteem he would have sacrificed all he possessed. + +While he waited for her coming, he took a leisurely survey of the room. +The furniture, less costly and rich than at Cro' Martin, was all marked +by that air of propriety and comfort so observable in rich men's houses. +There were the hundred appliances of ease and luxury that show how +carefully the most trifling inconveniences are warded off, and the +course of daily life rendered as untroubled as mere material enjoyments +can secure. Scanlan sighed deeply, for the thought crossed his mind how +was a girl brought up in this way ever to stoop to ally her fortune to +a man like him? Was it, then, possible that he nourished such a +presumption? Even so. Maurice was of an aspiring turn; he had succeeded +in twenty things that a dozen years past he had never dared to dream of. +He had dined at tables and driven with men whose butlers and valets he +once deemed very choice company; he had been the guest at houses where +once his highest ambition had been to see the interior as a matter of +curiosity. “Who could say where he might be at last?” Besides this, he +knew from his own knowledge of family matters that she had no fortune, +that her father was infinitely more likely to leave debts than an +inheritance behind him, and that her uncle was the last man in the world +ever to think of a marriage-portion for one he could not afford to part +with. There was, then, no saying what turn of fortune might present him +in an admissible form as a suitor. At all events, there was no rival in +the field, and Maurice had seen many a prize won by a “walk over” purely +for want of a competitor in the race. + +Notwithstanding all these very excellent and reassuring considerations, +Maurice Scanlan could not overcome a most uncomfortable sense of +awkwardness as Mary Martin entered the room, and saluting him with +easy familiarity, said, “I'm quite ashamed of having made you wait, Mr. +Scanlan; but I was in the village when I got my uncle's message. I find +that he is not well enough to receive you, and if I can--” + +“I'm sure it's only too much honor you do me, Miss Mary; I never +expected to have the pleasure of this interview; indeed, it will be very +hard for me to think of business, at all, at all.” + +“That would be most unfortunate after your coming so far on account of +it,” said she, half archly, while she seated herself on a sofa at some +distance from him. + +“If it were a question about the estate, Miss Mary,” said he, in his +most obsequious manner, “there's nobody equal to yourself; or if it were +anything at all but what it is, I know well that you'd see your way +out of it; but the present is a matter of politics,--it 's about the +borough.” + +“That weary borough,” said she, sighing; “and are we about to have +another election?” + +“That 's it, Miss Mary; and Lord Kilmorris writes me to say that he 'll +be over next week, and hopes he 'll find all his friends here as well +disposed towards him as ever.” + +“Has he written to my uncle?” asked Mary, hastily. + +“No; and that's exactly what I came about. There was a kind of +coldness,--more my Lady's, I think, than on Mr. Martin's part,--and Lord +Kilmorris feels a kind of delicacy; in fact, he doesn't rightly know how +he stands at Cro' Martin.” Here he paused, in hopes that she would help +him by even a word; but she was perfectly silent and attentive, and he +went on. “So that, feeling himself embarrassed, and at the same time +knowing how much he owes to the Martin interest--” + +“Well, go on,” said she, calmly, as he came a second time to a dead +stop. + +“It isn't so easy, then, Miss Mary,” said he, with a long sigh, “for +there are so many things enter into it,--so much of politics and party +and what not,--that I quite despair of making myself intelligible, +though, perhaps, if I was to see your uncle, he 'd make out my meaning.” + +“Shall I try and induce him to receive you, then?” said she, quietly. + +“Well, then, I don't like asking it,” said he, doubtfully; “for, after +all, there's nobody can break it to him as well as yourself.” + +“Break it to him, Mr. Scanlan?” said she, in astonishment. + +“Faith, it 's the very word, then,” said he; “for do what one will, say +what they may, it will be sure to surprise him, if it does no worse.” + +“You alarm me, sir; and yet I feel that if you would speak boldly out +your meaning, there is probably no cause for fear.” + +“I'll just do so, then, Miss Mary; but at the same time I 'd have you to +understand that I 'm taking a responsibility on myself that his Lordship +never gave me any warrant for, and that there is not another--” Mr. +Scanlan stopped, but only in time; for, whether it was the fervor in +which he uttered these words, or that Miss Martin anticipated what +was about to follow, her cheek became scarlet, and a most unmistakable +expression of her eyes recalled the worthy practitioner to all his +wonted caution. “The matter is this, Miss Martin,” said he, with +a degree of deference more marked than before, “Lord Kilmorris is +dissatisfied with the way your uncle supported him at the last election. +He complains of the hard conditions imposed upon him as to his line of +conduct in the House; and, above all, he feels insulted by a letter +Lady Dorothea wrote him, full of very harsh expressions and hard +insinuations. I never saw it myself, but that's his account of it,--in +fact, he's very angry.” + +“And means to throw up the borough, in short,” broke in Mary. + +“I'm afraid not, Miss Mary,” said the other, in a half whisper. + +“What then?--what can he purpose doing?” + +“He means to try and come in on his own interest,” said Scanlan, who +uttered the words with an effort, and seemed to feel relief when they +were out. + +“Am I to understand that he would contest the borough with us?” + +Scanlan nodded an affirmative. + +“No, no, Mr. Scanlan, this is some mistake,--some misapprehension on +your part. His Lordship may very possibly feel aggrieved,--he may have +some cause, for aught I know,--about something in the last election, +but this mode of resenting it is quite out of the question,--downright +impossible.” + +“The best way is to read his own words. Miss Martin. There's his +letter,” said he, handing one towards her, which, however, she made no +motion to take. + +“If you won't read it, then, perhaps you will permit me to do so. +It's very short, too, for he says at the end he will write more fully +to-morrow.” Mr. Scanlan here muttered over several lines of the epistle, +until he came to the following: “I am relieved from any embarrassment +I should have felt at breaking with the Martins by reflecting over the +altered conditions of party, and the new aspect politics must assume by +the operations of the Emancipation Act. The old ways and traditions of +the Tories must be abandoned at once and forever; and though Martin in +his life of seclusion and solitude will not perceive this necessity, we +here all see and admit it. I could, therefore, no longer represent his +opinions, since they would find no echo in the House. To stand for the +borough I must stand on my own views, which, I feel bold to say, include +justice to both of the contending factions.” + +“Admirably argued,” broke in Mary. “He absolves himself from all ties of +gratitude to my uncle by adopting principles the reverse of all he ever +professed.” + +“It's very like that, indeed, Miss Mary,” said Scanlan, timidly. + +“Very like it, sir? it is exactly so. Really the thing would be too +gross if it were not actually laughable;” and as she spoke she arose and +paced the room in a manner that showed how very little of the ludicrous +side of the matter occupied her thoughts. “He will stand for the +borough--he means to stand in opposition to us?” + +“That's his intention--at least, if Mr. Martin should not come to the +conclusion that it is better to support his Lordship than risk throwing +the seat into the hands of the Roman Catholics.” + +“I can't follow all these intrigues, Mr. Scanlan. I confess to you, +frankly, that you have puzzled me enough already, and that I have found +it no small strain on my poor faculties to conceive a gentleman being +able to argue himself into any semblance of self-approval by such +sentiments as those which you have just read; but I am a poor country +girl, very ignorant of great topics and great people. The best thing I +can do is to represent this affair to my uncle, and as early as may be.” + +“I hope he'll not take the thing to heart, miss; and I trust he 'll +acquit _me_--” + +“Be assured he'll despise the whole business most thoroughly, sir. I +never knew him take any deep interest in these themes; and if this be +a fair specimen of the way they are discussed, he was all the wiser +for his indifference. Do you make any stay in the village? Will it be +inconvenient for you to remain an hour or so?” + +“I'll wait your convenience, miss, to any hour,” said Scanlan, with an +air of gallantry which, had she been less occupied with her thoughts, +might have pushed her hard to avoid smiling at. + +“I'll be down at Mrs. Cronan's till I hear from you, Miss Mary.” And +with a look of as much deferential admiration as he dared to bestow, +Scanlan took his leave, and mounting to his box, assumed the ribbons +with a graceful elegance and a certain lackadaisical languor that, to +himself at least, appeared demonstrative of an advanced stage of the +tender passion. + +“Begad, she's a fine girl; devil a lie in it, but she has n't her equal! +and as sharp as a needle, too,” muttered he, as he jogged along the +shingly beach, probably for the first time in his whole life forgetting +the effect he was producing on the bystanders. + + + + +CHAPTER V. A STUDIO AND AN ARTIST + +“Is my uncle in the library, Terence?” asked Mary of a very corpulent +old man, in a red-brown wig. + +“No, miss, he's in the--bother it, then, if I ever can think of the name +of it.” + +“The studio, you mean,” said she, smiling. + +“Just so, Miss Mary,” replied he, with a sigh; for he remembered certain +penitential hours passed by himself in the same locality. + +“Do you think you could manage to let him know I want him--that is, that +I have something important to say to him?” + +“It's clean impossible, miss, to get near him when he's there. Sure, is +n't he up on a throne, dressed out in goold and dimonds, and as cross as +a badger besides, at the way they're tormenting him?” + +“Oh, that tiresome picture, is it never to be completed?” muttered she, +half unconsciously. + +“The saints above know whether it is or no,” rejoined Terence, “for +one of the servants told me yesterday that they rubbed every bit of the +master out, and began him all again; for my Lady said he was n't half +haggard enough, or worn-looking; but, by my conscience, if he goes on as +he 's doing, he ought to satisfy them.” + +“Why, I thought it was Henderson was sitting,” said Mary, somewhat +amused at the old man's commentaries. + +“So he was; but they rubbed him out, too; for it seems now he ought to +be bald, and they 've sent him into Oughter-ard to get his head shaved.” + +“And what were _you_, Terry?” + +“Arrah, who knows?” said he, querulously. “At first I was to be +somebody's mother that was always cryin'; but they weren't pleased with +the way I done it; and then they made me a monk, and after that they put +two hundredweight of armor on me, and made me lean my head on my arm as +if I was overcome; and faith, so I was; for I dropped off asleep, and +fell into a pot of varnish, and I 'm in disgrace now, glory be to God! +and I only hope it may last.” + +“I wish I shared your fortune, Terry, with all my heart,” said Mary, +with some difficulty preserving her gravity. + +“Couldn't it catch fire--by accident, I mean, miss--some evening +after dark?” whispered Terry, confidentially. “Them 's materials that +would burn easy! for, upon my conscience, if it goes on much longer +there won't be a sarvant will stay in the sarvice. They had little Tom +Regan holding a dish of charcoal so long that he tuk to his bed on +Friday last, and was never up since; and Jinny Moore says she 'd rather +lave the place than wear that undacent dress; and whist, there's murder +goin' on now inside!” And with that the old fellow waddled off with a +speed that seemed quite disproportionate to his years. + +While Mary was still hesitating as to what she should do, the door +suddenly opened, and a man in a mediaeval costume rushed out, tugging +after him a large bloodhound, whose glaring eyeballs and frothy mouth +betokened intense passion. Passing hurriedly forward, Mary beheld Lady +Dorothea bending over the fainting figure of a short little man, who lay +on the floor; while her uncle, tottering under a costume he could barely +carry, was trying to sprinkle water over him from an urn three feet in +height. + +“Mr. Crow has fainted,--mere fright, nothing more!” said Lady Dorothea. +“In stepping backward from the canvas he unluckily trod upon Fang's +paw, and the savage creature at once sprung on him. That stupid wretch, +Regan, one of your favorites, Miss Martin, never pulled him off till he +had torn poor Mr. Crow's coat, clean in two.”. + +“Egad, if I had n't smashed my sceptre over the dog's head the mischief +wouldn't have stopped there; but he 's coming to. Are you better, Crow? +How do you feel, man?” + +“I hope you are better, sir?” said Lady Dorothea, in an admirable +blending of grand benevolence and condescension. + +[Illustration: 080] + +“Infinitely better; supremely happy, besides, to have become the object +of your Ladyship's kind inquiries,” said the little man, sitting up, and +looking around with a very ghastly effort at urbanity and ease. + +“I never knew Fang to bite any one,” said Mary. + +“Does n't she, by jingo!” exclaimed the artist, who with difficulty +caught himself in time before he placed his hand on the supposed seat of +his injuries. + +“She shall be muzzled in future,” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily, +repressing the familiar tone of the discussion. + +“I think--indeed, I feel sure--I could get her in from memory, my Lady; +she 's a very remarkable creature, and makes an impression on one.” As +he uttered these words ruefully, he lifted from the floor the fragment +of his coat-skirt, and gazed mournfully at it. + +“I suppose we must suspend proceedings,” said Lady Dorothea; +“though really it is a pity to lose the opportunity of Miss Martin's +presence,--an honor she so very rarely accords us.” + +“I think after a few minutes or so, my Lady, I might feel equal,” said +Mr. Crow, rising and retreating to a wall with a degree of caution +that showed he entertained grave fears as to the state of his +habiliments,--“I might feel equal, if not exactly to delineate Miss +Martin's Classic features, at least to throw in--” + +“I could n't think of such a thing; I should be wretched at the idea +of engaging your attention at such a moment,” said Mary, with a +carelessness that contrasted strongly with her words; while she added, +with earnestness, “Besides, I 'm not sure I could spare the time.” + +“You see, sir,” said her Ladyship to the artist, “you have to deal with +a young lady whose occupations are like those of a Premier. The Duke +of Wellington can vouchsafe a sitting for his portrait, but Miss Martin +cannot spare the time for it.” + +“Nay, Aunt Dorothy, if I were the Duke of Wellington I should do as he +does. It is being Mary Martin, whose picture can have no interest for +any one, enables me to follow the bent of my own wishes.” + +“Humility is another of her perfections,” said Lady Dorothea, with a +look that but too palpably expressed her feeling towards her niece. + +As Mary was assisting her uncle to get rid of some of his superfluous +draperies, neither of them overheard this remark; while Mr. Crow was too +deeply impressed with his own calamities to pay any attention to it. + +“Mr. Scanlan has been very anxious to see you, uncle,” whispered Mary +in his ear. “He has something of importance to communicate about the +borough.” + +“Can't you manage it yourself, Molly? Can't you contrive somehow to +spare me this annoyance?” + +“But you really ought to hear what he has to say.” + +“I perceive that Miss Martin has a secret of moment to Impart to +you; pray let me not trouble the interview by my presence,” said Lady +Dorothea. And she swept haughtily out of the room, throwing a most +disdainful glance at her husband as she went. + +“There, by George! you've secured me a pleasant afternoon, at all +events!” said Martin, angrily, to his niece, as throwing off the +last remnant of his regal costume, he rushed out, banging the door +passionately behind him. + +Mary sat down to compose her thoughts in quiet, for Mr. Crow had +previously made his escape unobserved; and truly there was need of some +repose for her agitated and wearied faculties. Her uncle's dependence +upon her for everything, and her aunt's jealousy of the influence she +had over him, placed her in a position of no common difficulty, and one +of which every day seemed to increase the embarrassment. For a moment +she thought she would have preferred a life of utter insignificance and +obscurity; but as suddenly it occurred to her, “What had I been without +these duties and these cares? For me there are few, if any, of the ties +that bind other girls to their homes. I have neither mother nor sister; +I have none of the resources which education suggests to others. My +mind cannot soar above the realities that surround me, and seek for its +enjoyments in the realms of fancy; but, perhaps, I can do better,” said +she, proudly, “and make of these same every-day materials the poetry +of an actual existence.” As she spoke, she threw open the window, and +walked out upon the terrace over the sea. The fishermen's boats were all +standing out from shore,--a tiny fleet, whose hardy crews had done no +discredit to the proudest three-decker. Though the heavy gale of the +morning had gone down, it still blew fresh, and a long rolling swell +thundered along in-shore, and sent a deep booming noise through many a +rocky cavern. High above this deafening clamor, however, rose the hearty +cheers of the fishermen as they detected Mary's figure where she stood; +and many a tattered rag of showy bunting was hoisted to do her honor. +Never insensible to such demonstrations, Mary felt at the moment almost +overpowered with emotion. But a moment back and she bewailed her +isolation and friendlessness; and see, here were hundreds who would have +resigned life in her behalf. Still, as the boats receded, the wind bore +to her ears the welcome sounds; and as she heard them, her heart seemed +to expand and swell with generous thoughts and good wishes, while along +her cheeks heavy tears were rolling. + +“What need have I of other friends than such as these?” cried she, +passionately. “_They_ understand me, and I them; and as for the great +world, we are not made for each other!” + +“My own sentiments to a 'T,' miss,” said a soft, mincing voice behind +her; and Mary turned and beheld Mr. Crow. He had arrayed himself in a +small velvet skull-cap and a blouse, and stood mixing the colors on his +palette in perfect composure. “I 'm afraid, Miss Martin, there 's an end +of the great 'Historical.' Your uncle will scarcely be persuaded to put +on the robes again, and it's a downright pity. I was getting a look of +weariness--imbecility I might call it--into his features that would have +crowned the work.” + +“I don't think I ever knew what your subject was!” said she, half +indolently. + +“The Abdication of Charles V., Miss Martin,” said he, proudly. “This is +the fourteenth time I have depicted it; and never, I am bound to say, +with more favorable 'studies.' Your uncle is fine; my Lady gorgeous; I +don't say what I 'd like of another lovely and gifted individual; but +even down to that old rogue of a butler that would insist on +taking snuff through the bars of his helmet, they were all grand, +miss,--positively grand!” Seeing that she appeared to bestow some +attention to him, Mr. Crow went on: “You see, miss, in the beginning +of a great effort of this kind there is no progress made at all. The +sitters keep staring at one another, each amused at some apparent +absurdity in costume or attitude; and then, if you ask them to call up a +look of love, hate, jealousy, or the like, it's a grin you get,--a grin +that would shame a hyena. By degrees, however, they grow used to the +situation; they 'tone down,' as one might say, and learn to think less +of themselves, and be more natural. It was sheer fatigue, downright +exhaustion, and nothing else, was making your uncle so fine; and if he +could have been kept on low diet,--I did n't like to mention it, though +I often wished it,--I 'd have got a look of cadaverous madness into his +face that would have astonished you.” + +By this time Mr. Crow had approached his canvas, and was working +away vigorously, the action of his brush appearing to stimulate his +loquacity. Mary drew near to observe him, and insensibly felt attracted +by that fascination which the progress of a picture invariably +possesses. + +“This is the Queen,” continued he; “she's crying,--as well she might; +she doesn't rightly know whether the old fellow's out of his mind or +not; she has her misgivings, and she does n't half like that old thief +of a Jesuit that's whispering in the King's ear. This was to be you, +Miss Martin; you were betrothed to one of the young princes; but somehow +you weren't quite right in your head, and you are looking on rather more +amused, you perceive, than in any way moved; you were holding up your +beautiful petticoat, all covered with gold and precious stones, as much +as to say, 'Ain't I fine this morning?' when you heard the herald's +trumpet announce the Prince of Orange; and there he is,--or there he +ought to be,--coming in at the door. There's a chap pulling the curtain +aside; but I suppose, now,” added he, with a sigh, “we 'll never see the +Prince there!” + +“But where could you have found a study for your Prince, Mr. Crow?” + +“I have him here, miss,” said Crow, laying down his brush to take a +small sketch-book from the pocket of his blouse. “I have him here; +and there wouldn't have been a finer head in the canvas,--pale, +stern-looking, but gentle withal; a fellow that would say, 'Lead them +to the scaffold,' as easy as winking, and that would tremble and falter +under the eye of a woman he loved. There he is, now,--the hair, you +know, I put in myself, and the bit of beard, just for a little Titian +effect; but the eyes are his own, and the mouth not as good as his own.” + +“It's a striking head, indeed,” said Mary, still contemplating it +attentively. + +“That's exactly what it is; none of your common brain-boxes, but a grand +specimen of the classic head, civilized down to a mediaeval period; +the forty-first descendant of an Emperor or a Proconsul, living at the +Pincian Hall, or at his villa on the Tiber, sitting for his likeness to +Giordano.” + +“There's a painful expression in the features, too,” added she, slowly. + +“So there is; and I believe he 's in bad health.” + +“Indeed!” said Mary, starting. “I quite forgot there was an original all +this time.” + +“He's alive; and what's more, he's not a mile from where we 're +standing.” Mr. Crow looked cautiously about him as he spoke, ac if +fearful of being overheard; and then approaching close to Miss Martin, +and dropping his voice to a whisper, said, “I can venture to tell you +what I dare n't tell my Lady; for I know well if she suspected who it +was would be the Prince of Orange, begad, I might abdicate too, as +well as the King. That young man there is-the son of a grocer in +Oughterard,--true, every word of it,--Dan Nelligan's son! and you may +fancy now what chance he 'd have of seeing himself on that canvas if her +Ladyship knew it.” + +“Is this the youth who has so distinguished himself at college?” asked +Mary. + +“The very one. I made that sketch of him when he was reading for the +medal; he did n't know it, for I was in a window opposite, where he +couldn't see me; and when I finished he leaned his chin in his hand +and looked up at the sky, as if thinking; and the expression of his +up-turned face, with the lips a little apart, was so fine that I took +it down at once, and there it is,” said he, turning over the page and +presenting a few pencil lines lightly and spiritedly drawn. + +“A young gentleman left this packet, Miss Mary, and said it was for +you,” said a servant, presenting a small sealed enclosure. Mary Martin +blushed deeply, and she opened the parcel, out of which fell her own +glove, with a card. + +“The very man we were talking of,” said Mr. Crow, lifting it up and +handing it to her,--“Joseph Nelligan. That's like the old proverb; talk +of the--” But she was gone ere he could finish his quotation. + +“There she goes,” said Crow, sorrowfully; “and if she 'd have stayed ten +minutes more I 'd have had her all complete!” and he contemplated with +glowing satisfaction a hasty sketch he had just made in his book. “It's +like her,--far more than anything I have done yet; but after all--” + And he shook his head mournfully as he felt the poor pretension of his +efforts. “Small blame to me to fail, anyhow,” added he, after a pause. +“It would take Titian himself to paint her; and even he couldn't give +all the softness and delicacy of the expression,--that would take +Raffaelle; and Vandyke for her eyes, when they flash out at times; and +Giordano for the hair. Oh, if he could have seen it just as I did a +minute ago, when the wind blew it back, and the sunlight fell over it! +“Arrah!” cried he, impatiently, as with a passionate gesture he tore the +leaf from his book and crushed it in his hand,--“arrah! What right +have I even to attempt it?” And he sat down, covering his face with his +hands, to muse and mourn in silence. + +Simpson--or as he was more generally known, Simmy Crow--was neither +a Michael Angelo nor a Raffaelle; but he was a simple-minded, +honest-hearted creature, whose life had been a long hand-to-hand fight +with fortune. Originally a drawing-master in some country academy, the +caprice--for it was little else--of a whimsical old lady had sent him +abroad to study; that is, sent him to contemplate the very highest +triumphs of genius with a mind totally unprepared and uncultivated, to +gaze on the grandest conceptions without the shadow of a clew to +them, and to try and pick up the secrets of art when he stood in utter +ignorance of its first principles. The consequence was, he went wild in +the enthusiasm of his admiration; he became a passionate worshipper at +the shrine, but never essayed to be priest at the altar. Disgusted and +dispirited by his own miserable attempts, he scarcely ever touched +a pencil, but roved from city to city, and from gallery to gallery, +entranced,--enchanted by a fascination that gradually insinuated +itself into his very being, and made up the whole aim and object of his +thoughts. This idolatry imparted an ecstasy to his existence that lifted +him above every accident of fortune. Poor, hungry, and ill-clad, he +still could enter a gallery or a church, sit down before a Guido or a +Rembrandt, and forget all, save the glorious creation before him. By the +sudden death of his patroness, he was left, without a shilling, hundreds +of miles from home. Humble as his requirements were, he could not supply +them; he offered to teach, but it was in a land where all have access to +the best models; he essayed to copy, but his efforts were unsalable. +To return home to his country was now his great endeavor; and after +innumerable calamities and reverses, he did arrive in England, whence he +made his way to Ireland, poorer than he had quitted it. + +Had he returned in better plight, had he come back with some of the +appearance of success, the chances are that he might have thriven on +the accidents of fame; but he was famishing and in beggary. Some alleged +that he was a worthless fellow who had passed a life of idleness and +debauch; others, that he was not without ability, but that his habits of +dissipation rendered him hopeless; and a few--a very few--pitied him as +a weak-brained enthusiast, who had no bad about him, but was born to +failure! + +In his utter destitution he obtained work as a house-painter,--an +employment which he followed for three or four yeare, and in which +capacity he had been sent by his master to paint some ornamental +stucco-work at Cro' Martin. The ability he displayed attracted Lady +Dorothea's notice, and she engaged him to decorate a small garden villa +with copies from her own designs. He was entirely successful, and so +much pleased was her Ladyship that she withdrew him from his ignoble +servitude and attached him to her own household, where now he had been +living two years, the latter half of which period had been passed in +the great work of which we have already made some mention. It so chanced +that poor Simmy had never sold but two copies in his life: one was The +Abdication of Charles V., the other, The Finding of Moses; and so, out +of gratitude to these successes, he went on multiplying new versions of +these subjects _ad infinitum_, eternally writing fresh variations on the +old themes, till the King and the Lawgiver filled every avenue of his +poor brain, and he ceased to have a belief that any other story than +these could be the subject of high art. + +Happy as he now was, he never ceased to feel that his position exposed +him to many an ungenerous suspicion. + +“They 'll say I 'm humbugging this old lady,” was the constant +self-reproach he kept repeating. “I know well what they 'll think of me; +I think I hear the sneering remarks as I pass.” And so powerfully had +this impression caught hold of him, that he vowed, come what would of +it, he 'd set out on his travels again, and face the cold stern world, +rather than live on what seemed to be the life of a flatterer and a +sycophant. He could not, however, endure the thought of leaving his +“Abdication” unfinished, and he now only remained to complete this great +work. “Then I 'm off,” said he; “and then they 'll see if poor Simmy +Crow was the fellow they took him for.” Better thoughts on this theme +were now passing through his mind, from which at last he aroused himself +to proceed with his picture. Once at work, his spirits rose; hopes +flitted across his brain, and he was happy. His own creations seemed to +smile benignly on him, too, and he felt towards them like a friend, and +even talked with them, and confided his secret thoughts to them. In this +pleasant mood we shall leave him, then; nor shall we linger to listen to +the avowals he is making of his upright intentions, nor his willingness +to bear the hardest rubs of fortune, so that none can reproach him for a +mean subserviency. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. A DASH OF POLITICS + +“Well, what is it, Molly,--what is it all about?” said Martin, as Mary +entered the library, where he was sitting with an unread newspaper +stretched across his knee. + +“It is a piece of news Scanlan has brought, uncle, and not of the most +agreeable kind either.” + +“Then I'll not hear more of it,” broke he in, pettishly. + +“But you must, uncle, since without your own counsel and advice nothing +can be done.” + +“Do nothing, then,” added he, sulkily. + +“Come, come, I 'll not let you off thus easily,” said she, passing an +arm over his shoulder. “You know well I 'd not tease you if it could be +avoided, but here is a case where I can be no guide. It is a question of +the borough, Lord Kilmorris thinks himself strong enough to stand on his +own merits, and repudiates your aid and his own principles together.” + Martin's attention being now secured, she went on: “He says--at least as +well as I can follow his meaning--that with this new measure must come a +total change of policy,--abrogating all old traditions and old notions; +that _you_, of course, are little likely to adopt this opinion, at least +at once, and so he releases you from all obligations to support him, and +himself from all tie to represent _you_.” + +“This is Lady Dorothy's doing,” broke in Martin, passionately; “her +confounded letter-writing has brought this upon us. I told her that +those fellows were trimming; I warned her that they were only waiting +for this Bill to pass, to turn round upon us as a barbarous old remnant +of feudal oppression; but he dare n't do it, Molly,--Kilmorris has n't +a leg to stand upon in the borough. He could n't count upon twenty--no, +not ten votes, without me. It's a scurvy trick, too, and it sha'n't +succeed, if I stand for the borough myself.” And he blurted out the last +words as though they were the expression of an enmity driven to its last +resources. + +“No, no, uncle,” said she, caressingly; “after all you have yourself +told me of a parliamentary life, that must never be. Its unending +intrigues and petty plotting, its fatiguing days and harassing nights, +its jealousies and disappointments, and defeats, all hard enough to +be borne by those who must make a trade of their politics, but utterly +insupportable to one who, like you, can enjoy his independence. Do not +think of that, I beseech you.” + +“Then am I to see this man carry my own town in my very teeth?” cried +he, angrily. “Is that your advice to me?” + +“You often spoke of Harry. Why not put him forward now he is coming +home?” + +“Ay, and the very first thing he'll do will be to resign the seat +because he had not been consulted about the matter before the election. +You know him well, Molly; and you know that he exchanged into a regiment +in India simply because I had obtained his appointment to the Blues. +His amiable mother's disposition is strong in him!” muttered he, half to +himself, but loud enough to be heard by his niece. + +“At all events, see Scanlan,” said she; “learn how the matter really +stands; don't rely on my version of it, but see what Lord Kilmorris +intends, and take your own measures calmly and dispassionately +afterwards.” + +“Is Scanlan engaged for him?” + +“I think not. I suspect that negotiations are merely in progress.” + +“But if he even was,” broke in Martin, violently, “I have made the +fellow what he is, and he should do as I ordered him. Let him come in, +Molly.” + +“He is not in the house, uncle; he went down to the village.” + +“Not here? Why didn't he wait? What impertinence is this?” + +“He wished to bait his horses, and probably to get some breakfast for +himself, which I had not the politeness to offer him here.” + +“His horses? His tandem, I'll be sworn,” said Martin, with a sneer. +“I 'll ask for no better evidence of what we are coming to than that +Maurice Scanlan drives about the county with a tandem.” + +“And handles them very neatly, too,” said Mary, with a malicious sparkle +of her eye, for she could n't refrain from the spiteful pleasure of +seeing her uncle in a regular fury for a mere nothing. All the more +salutary, as it withdrew his thoughts from weightier themes. + +“I'm sure of it, Miss Martin. I'm certain that he is a most accomplished +whip, and as such perfectly sure to find favor in _your_ eyes. Let him +come up here at once, however. Say I want him immediately,” added he, +sternly; and Mary despatched a servant with the message, and sat down in +front of her uncle, neither uttering a word nor even looking towards the +other. + +“After all, Molly,” said he, in the quiet, indolent tone so natural to +him--“after all, what does it signify who's in or who's out? I don't +care a brass farthing about party or party triumphs; and even if I did, +I 'm not prepared--What are you laughing at,--what is it amuses you +now?” asked he, half testily, while she laughed out in all the +unrestrained flow of joyous mirth. + +“I have been waiting for that confession this half-hour, uncle, and +really I was beginning to be afraid of a disappointment. Why, dearest +uncle, you were within a hair's breadth of forgetting your principles, +and being actually caught, for once in your life, prepared and ready.” + +“Oh, is that it? Is it my embarrassment, then, that affords you so much +amusement?” + +“Far from it,” said she, affectionately. “I was only laughing at that +quiet little nook you retire to whenever you ought to be up and doing. +Unprepared you say. Not a bit of it. Indisposed, indolent, unwilling, +indifferent, any of these you like; but with a mind so full of its own +good resources, and as ready to meet every contingency as any one's, +don't say you are unprepared. Come, now, bear with me this once, dearest +uncle, and don't be angry if I throw myself, like a rock or sandbank, +betwixt you and your harbor of refuge. But I hear Mr. Scanlan's +voice, and so I shall leave you. Be resolute, uncle, determined, +and--'prepared'!” And with a gesture half menace and half drollery, she +left the room as the attorney entered it. + +Scanlan, like most of those who came but casually in contact with +Martin, had conceived a low idea of his capacity,--lower by far than +it deserved, since behind his indolence there lay a fund of good +common-sense,--a mine, it must be acknowledged, that he seldom cared to +work. The crafty man of law had, however, only seen him in his ordinary +moods of careless ease and idleness, and believed that pride of family, +fortune, and position were the only ideas that found access to his mind, +and that by a dexterous allusion to these topics it would always be an +easy task to influence and direct him. + +“What's this my niece has been telling me of Lord Kilmorris?” said +Martin, abruptly, and without even replying to the salutations of the +other, who hovered around a chair in an uncertainty as to whether +he might dare to seat himself uninvited,--“he's going to contest the +borough with us, is n't he?” + +Scanlan leaned one arm on the back of the chair, and in a half-careless +way replied,-- + +“He is afraid that you and he don't quite agree, sir. He leans to +measures that he suspects you may not altogether approve of.” + +“Come, come, none of this balderdash with me, Master Maurice. Has he +bought the fellows already, or, rather, have you bought them? Out with +it, man! What will he give? Name the sum, and let us treat the matter in +a business-like way.” + +Scanlan sat down and laughed heartily for some minutes. + +“I think you know me well enough, Mr. Martin, by this time,” said he, +“to say whether I'ma likely man to meddle with such a transaction.” + +“The very likeliest in Ireland; the man I 'd select amidst ten +thousand.” + +“I am sorry to hear you say so, sir, that's all,” said the other, with a +half-offended air; “nor do I see that anything in my past life warrants +the imputation.” + +Martin turned fiercely round, about to make a reply which, if once +uttered, would have ended all colloquy between them, when suddenly +catching himself he said, “Have you taken any engagement with his +Lordship?” + +“Not as yet, sir,--not formally, at least. My Lord has written me a very +full statement of his ideas on politics, what he means to do, and so +forth, and he seems to think that anything short of a very liberal line +would not give satisfaction to the electors.” + +“Who told him so? Who said that the borough was not perfectly content +with the representative that--that”--he stammered and faltered--“that +its best friends had fixed upon to defend its interests? Who said that a +member of my own family might not desire the seat?” + +This announcement, uttered with a tone very much akin to menace, failed +to produce either the astonishment or terror that Martin looked for, and +actually supposing that the expression had not been heard, he repeated +it. “I say, sir, has any one declared that a Martin will not stand?” + +“I am not aware of it,” said Scanlan, quietly. + +“Well, sir,” cried Martin, as if unable to delineate the consequences, +and wished to throw the weight of the duty on his opponent. + +“There would be a warm contest, no doubt, sir,” said Scanlan, guardedly. + +“No, sir; nor the shadow of a contest,” rejoined Martin, angrily. +“You'll not tell _me_ that my own town--the property that has been in +my family for seven centuries and more--would presume--that is, would +desire--to--to--break the ties that have bound us to each other?” + +“I wish I could tell you my mind, Mr. Martin, without offending you; +that is, I wish you 'd let me just say what my own opinion is, and +take it for what it is worth, and in five minutes you 'd be in a better +position to make up your mind about this matter than if we went on +discussing it for a week.” There was a dash of independence in his +utterance of these words that actually startled Martin; for, somehow, +Scanlan had himself been surprised into earnestness by meeting with an +energy on the other's part that he had never suspected; and thus each +appeared in a new light to the other. + +“May I speak out? Well, then, here is what I have to say: the Relief +Bill is passed, the Catholics are now emancipated--” + +“Yes, and be--” Martin caught himself with a cough, and the other went +on:-- + +“Well, then, if they don't send one of their own set into Parliament at +once, it is because they 'd like to affect, for a little while at least, +a kind of confidence in the men who gave them their liberties. O'Connell +himself gave a pledge, that of two candidates, equal in all other +respects, they'd select the Protestant; and so they would for a time. +And it lies with you, and other men of your station, to determine how +long that interval is to last; for an interval it will only be, after +all. If you want to pursue the old system of 'keeping down,' you 'll +drive them at once into the hands of the extreme Papist party, who, +thanks to yourselves, can now sit in Parliament; but if you 'll moderate +your views, take a humbler standard of your own power,--conciliate a +prejudice here, obliterate an old animosity there--” + +“In fact,” broke in Martin, “swear by this new creed that Lord Kilmorris +has sent you a sketch of in his letter! Then I 'll tell you what, sir--I +'d send the borough and all in it to the--” + +“So you might, Mr. Martin, and you 'd never mend matters in the least,” + broke he in, with great coolness. + +There was now a dead silence for several minutes; at last Martin spoke, +and it was in a tone and with a manner that indicated deep reflection:-- + +“I often said to those who would emancipate the Catholics, 'Are you +prepared to change places with them? You have been in the ascendant a +good many years, are you anxious now to try what the other side of the +medal looks like? for, if not, leave them as they are.' Well, they did +n't believe me; and maybe now my prophecy is nigh its accomplishment.” + +“It is very likely you were right, sir; but whether or not, it's the law +now, and let us make the best of it,” said Scanlan, who had a practical +man's aversion to all that savored of mere speculative reasoning. + +“As how, for instance--in what way, Mr. Scanlan?” asked Martin, curtly. + +“If you 'll not support Lord Kilmorris--” + +“That I won't, I promise you; put that clean out of your head to begin +with.” + +“Well, then, there is but one other course open. Come to some compromise +with the Romanist party; if you don't like to give them a stray +vote--and mark me, they 'd make better terms with _you_ than with a +stranger--but if you don't like that, why, take the representation +alternately with them.” + +Martin rose from his chair and advanced close to where Scanlan was +sitting, then, fixing his eyes steadfastly on him, said,-- + +“Who commissioned you to make this proposition to _me?_” + +“No one, upon my oath. There is not a man breathing who has ever so much +as hinted at what I have just said to you.” + +“I'm glad of it; I'm heartily glad of it,” said Martin, calmly reseating +himself. “I'm glad there is not another fellow in this county your equal +in impudence! Aye, Mr. Scanlan, you heard me quite correctly. I saw many +a change going on amongst us, and I foresaw many more; but that a Martin +of Cro' Martin should be taught his political duty by Maurice Scanlan, +and that that duty consisted in a beggarly alliance with the riff-raff +of a county town,--that was, indeed, a surprise for which I was in no +wise prepared.” + +“Well, sir, I 'm sorry if I have given any offence,” said Scanlan, +rising, and, in a voice of the most quiet intonation, making his +excuses. “Your rejection of the counsel I was bold enough to suggest +leaves me, at least, at liberty to offer my services where they will not +be rejected so contumeliously.” + +“Is this a threat, Mr. Scanlan?” said Martin, with a supercilious smile. + +“No, sir, nothing of the kind. I know too well what becomes _my_ +station, and is _due to yours_, to forget myself so far; but as you +don't set any value on the borough yourself, and as there may be others +who do--” + +“Stay and eat your dinner here, Scanlan,” said Martin. + +“I promised Mrs. Cronan, sir--” + +“Send an apology to her; say it was _my_ fault,--that I detained you.” + And without waiting for a reply, Martin sauntered from the room, leaving +the attorney alone with his reflections. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. A COLLEGE COMPETITOR + +Young Nelligan had distanced all his competitors in his college career; +some who were his equals in ability, were inferior to him in habits of +hard and patient labor; and others, again, were faint-hearted to oppose +one in whose success they affected to believe luck had no small +share. One alone had the honest candor to avow that he deserved his +pre-eminence, on the true ground of his being their superior. This was a +certain Jack Massingbred, a young fellow of good family and fortune, +and who, having been rusticated at Oxford, and involved in some outrage +against authority in Cambridge, had come over to finish his college +career in the “Silent Sister.” + +Although Irish by birth, and connected with Ireland by ties of family +and fortune, he had passed all his life in England, his father having +repaired to that country after the Union, exchanging the barren honor of +a seat for an Irish borough for a snug Treasury appointment. His son +had very early given proof of superior capacity. At Rugby he was +distinguished as a scholar; and in his opening life at Oxford his +talents won high praise for him. Soon after his entrance, however, +he had fallen into a fast set,--of hunting, tandem-driving, and +occasionally hard-drinking men,--in whose society he learned to +forget all his aim for college success, and to be far more anxious +for distinction as a whip or a stroke-oar than for all the honors of +scholarship. At first he experienced a sense of pride in the thought +that he could hold his own with either set, and take the lead in the +examination-hall as easily as he assumed the first place in the social +meeting. A few reverses, however, taught him that his theory was +a mistake, that no amount of ability will compensate for habits of +idleness and dissipation, and that the discursive efforts of even high +genius will be ever beaten by the steady results of patient industry. +Partly indifferent to what had once been his great ambition, partly +offended by his failures, Massingbred threw himself entirely into the +circle of his dissipated companions, and became the very head and front +of all their wildest excesses. An absurd exploit, far more ludicrous +than really culpable, procured his rustication; a not less ridiculous +adventure drove him from Cambridge; and he had at last arrived in +Dublin, somewhat tamed down by his experiences, and half inclined to +resume his long-abandoned desire for college distinction. + +The habits of the Irish College were strikingly unlike those of either +Oxford or Cambridge. Instead of a large class consisting of men of great +fortune and high expectations, he found a very slight sprinkling of +such, and even they made up nothing that resembled a party. Separated +by age, political distinctions, and county associations, all stronger in +the poorer country than in the richer one, they held little intercourse +together, and were scarcely acquainted. + +If there was less actual wealth, there was also less credit to be +obtained by an Irish student. The Dublin shopkeeper acknowledged no +prestige in the “gownsman;” he admitted him to no special privilege of +book-debts; and as the great majority of the students resided with +their families in the capital, there was no room for that reckless +extravagance so often prosecuted by those who are temporarily removed +from domestic supervision. + +Massingbred was at first grievously disappointed. There were neither +great names nor great fortunes amongst his new associates. Their mode +of life, too, struck him as mean and contemptible. There were clever men +reading for honors, and stupid men steering their slow way to a degree; +but where were the fast ones? where the fellows who could tool a team or +steer a six-oar, who could dash up to town for a week's reckless life at +Crocky's and Tattersall's, make their book on the Oaks, or perhaps ride +the winner at a steeplechase? + +It was all grievously slow. Dublin itself was a poor affair. He had few +acquaintances, the theatres were bad, and public amusements there were +none. His fellow-students, too, stood aloof from him. It was not that +he was richer, better dressed, rode blood horses, dined at Morris-son's, +wore kid gloves, and carried scented pocket-handkerchiefs. It was not +that he had a certain air of puppyism as he wended his way across the +courts, or sauntered elegantly into chapel. They could have forgiven any +or all of these better than one of his offendings, which was his accent. +Strange as it may seem, his English voice and English pronunciation +were the most unpopular things about him, and many a real defect in his +character might have met a more merciful construction had he given no +initial “H” to “humble,” and evinced a more generous confusion about his +“wills” and “snails.” + +Somewhat bored by a life so unlike anything he had ever tried +before,--partly, perhaps, stimulated to show that he could do something +beside canter his thorough-bred along Sackville Street, or lounge in +the stage-box in solitary splendor,--he went in for honors, and, to +the surprise of all, succeeded. In fact, he beat two or three of the +distinguished men of his time, till, thrown by the chance of events into +Nelligan's division, he found at once his superior, and saw that he was +in presence of an intelligence considerably above his own. When he had +adventured on the struggle and found himself worsted, he acknowledged +defeat with all the generosity of an honorable nature; and forcing his +way through the crowd as it issued from the examination-hall, was the +very first to grasp Nelligan's hand and congratulate him on his success. + +“That was all got up; he was bursting with jealousy. The fellow could +have strangled Nelligan,” muttered one. + +“He certainly put a good face on the disaster,” said another, more +mercifully given; “though I suppose he feels the thing sorely enough at +heart!” + +That was exactly what he did not, however. Young Massingbred regarded a +college distinction as no evidence whatever of a man's attainments. He +had seen stupid fellows win the prize for which clever ones strove in +vain; but, at all events, he regarded such successes as contributing in +nothing to the great race of life, and had even a theory that such early +efforts were often the very means of exhausting the energies that should +be exerted for the high rewards of the world. Besides this, he felt a +pleasure in manfully showing that he was above a petty jealousy, and +fairly owning himself beaten in a fair struggle. + +“You are the better man, Nelligan,” said he, gayly; “I 'll not try +another fall with you, be assured.” + +Strange was it that in this very avowal he had asserted what the other +felt in his inmost heart to be an immeasurable superiority over him; +and that in the very moment of striking his flag he had proclaimed his +victory. To be able to run him so hard for the race and yet not feel the +struggle, to strive for the prize and care nothing for defeat, seemed to +Nelligan the evidence of an ambition that soared above college triumph, +and he could not but envy that buoyant high-hearted temperament that +seemed to make light of difficulties and not even feel depressed by a +defeat. + +Up to this time these two young men had scarcely known each other, but +now they became intimate. The very difference in character served +to draw them more closely together; and if Nelligan felt a degree of +admiration for qualities whose brilliant display opened a new sense of +enjoyment to him, the other was delighted with the gentle and almost +childlike innocence of the student whose far-soaring intellect was +mastering the highest questions of science. + +Massingbred was one of those natures in whom frankness is an instinct. +It seems to such a relief to open the secrets of the heart and avow +their weaknesses and their shortcomings, as though--by some Moral +Popery--they would obtain the benefit of a free confession and go forth +the better for their candor. + +Not only did he tell Nelligan of his own career and its accidents, the +causes for which he was not on good terms with his family, and so on; +but he even ventured to discuss the public life of his father, and, in +a spirit of banter, swore that to his political subserviency did he owe +his whole fortune in life. + +“My father was one of the crew when the vessel was wrecked, Nelligan,” + said he; “there was plenty of talk of standing by the ship to the last, +and perishing with her. Some did so, and they are forgotten already. My +father, however, jumped into the long-boat with a few more, and thought +that probably they might find another craft more seaworthy; fortunately +he was right; at least, assuredly, I 'm not the man to say he was not.” + +“But was there no desertion of principle, Massingbred?” said Nelligan. + +“No more than there is a desertion of your old coat when you discover it +to be too threadbare to wear any longer. Irish Politics, as the men of +that day understood them, had become impracticable,--impossible, I +might say; the only sensible thing to do was to acknowledge the fact. My +father was keen-sighted enough to see it in that light, and here 's his +health for it.” + +Nelligan was silent. + +“Come, Joe, out with it. Your family were honest Unionists. Tell me so +frankly, man. Own to me that you and yours look upon us all as a set of +knaves and scoundrels, that sold their country, and so forth. I want to +see you in a mood of good passionate indignation for once. Out with it, +boy; curse us to your heart's content, and I 'll hear it like an angel, +for the simple reason that I know it to be just. You won't, won't you? +Is your anger too deep for words? or are there any special and peculiar +wrongs that make your dark consuming wrath too hot for utterance?” + +Nelligan was still silent; but the blush which now covered his face had +become almost purple. The allusion to his family as persons of political +importance struck him, and for the first time, with a sense of shame. +What would Massingbred think of them if he knew their real station? what +would he think of _him_ for having concealed it? Had he concealed it? +Had he ever divulged the truth? He knew not; in the whirlwind of his +confusion he knew nothing. He tried to say some words to break the +oppressive silence that seemed to weigh him down like an accusation, but +he could not. + +“I see it all, Nelligan. My foolish affectation of laughing at all +principle has disgusted you; but the truth is, I don't feel it: I do +not. I own frankly that the bought patriot is a ruined man, and there +is a moral Nemesis over every fellow that sells himself; I don't mean to +say but that many who did so did n't make the best bargain their +brains were worth, and my father for one; he was a man of fair average +abilities,--able to say his commonplaces like his neighbors,--and +naturally felt that they would sound as well in England as in Ireland; I +don't think he had a single conviction on any subject, so that he really +sold a very unsalable article when he vended himself. But there were +others,--your Governor, for instance; come, now, tell me about him; you +are so devilish close, and I want to hear all about your family. You +won't; well, I'll give you one chance more, and then--” + +“What then?” asked Nelligan, breathlessly. + +“I 'll just go and learn for myself.” + +“How? what do you mean?” “The easiest way in the world. The vacation +begins next Tuesday, and I 'll just invite myself to spend the first +week of it under your paternal roof. You look terribly shocked, +absolutely horrified; well, so you ought. It is about the greatest piece +of impertinence I 've heard of. I assure you I have a full consciousness +of that myself; but no matter, I 'll do it.” + +Nelligan's shame was now an agony. It had never occurred to him in +his life to feel ashamed of his station or that of his family, for the +simple reason that he had never made pretension to anything higher or +more exalted. The distinctions at which he aimed were those attainable +by ability; social successes were triumphs he never dreamed of. But now +came the thought of how he should stand in his friend's esteem, when the +fact was revealed that he was the son of very humble parents, all whose +ways, thoughts, and habits would be apt themes for ridicule and sarcasm. +Over and over again had Massingbred annoyed him by the disparaging tone +in which he canvassed “small people,” the sneering depreciation in +which he held all their doings, and the wholesale injustice by which he +classed their sentiments with their good manners. It was the one feature +of his friend's character that gave a check to his unbounded esteem for +him. Had he not possessed this blemish, Nelligan would have deemed him +nearly faultless. + +Intensely feeling this, Nelligan would have given much for courage to +say, “I am one of that very set you sneer at. All my associations and +ties are with them. My home is amongst them, and every link of kindred +binds me to them.” + +Yet, somehow, he could not bring himself to the effort. It was not that +he dreaded the loss of friendship that might ensue,--indeed, he rather +believed that such would not occur; but he thought that a time might +come when that avowal might be made with pride, and not in humiliation, +when he should say: “My father, the little shopkeeper of Oughterard, +gave me the advantages by which I became what I am. The class you sneer +at had yet ambitions high and daring as your own; and talents to attain +them, too! The age of noble and serf has passed away, and we live in a +freer and more generous era, when men are tested by their own worth; +and if birth and blood would retain their respect amongst us, it is +by contesting with us more humbly born the prizes of life.” To have +asserted these things now, however, when he was nothing, when his name +had no echo beyond the walls of a college, would have seemed to him an +intolerable piece of presumption, and he was silent. + +Massingbred read his reserve as proceeding from displeasure, and +jestingly said,-- + +“You mustn't be angry with me, Joe. The boldness of men like me is less +impudence than you take it for, since--should I fulfil my threat, and +pay your father a visit--I 'd neither show surprise nor shame if he +refused to receive me. I throw over all the claims of ceremony; but at +the same time I don't want to impose the trammels on my friends. They +are free to deal with me as frankly, ay, and as curtly as I have treated +them; but enough of all this. Let us talk of something else.” + +And so they did, too,--of their college life and its changeful fortunes; +of their companions and their several characters, and of the future +itself, of which Massingbred pretended to read the fate, saying: “You'll +be something wonderful one of these days, Joe. I have it as though +revealed to me,--_you_ astonishing the world by your abilities, and +winning your way to rank and eminence; while _I_ like a sign-post that +points to the direction, shall stand stock-still, and never budge an +inch, knowing the road, but not travelling it.” + +“And why should it be so, Mass, when you have such a perfect +consciousness of your powers for success?” + +“For the simple reason, my boy, that I know and feel how the cleverness +which imposes upon others has never imposed upon myself. The popular +error of a man's being able to do fifty things which he has not done +from idleness, apathy, carelessness, and so on, never yet deceived me, +because I know well that when a fellow has great stuff in him it will +come out, whether he likes or not. You might as well say that the grapes +in a wine-vat could arrest their own process of fermentation, as that +a man of real genius--and mind, I am now speaking of no other--could +suppress the working of his intelligence, and throw his faculties into +torpor. The men who do nothing are exactly the men who can do no better. +Volition, energy, the strong impulse for action, are part and parcel of +every really great intellect; and your 'mute, inglorious Milton' only +reminds me of the artist who painted his canvas all red to represent the +passage of the Egyptians through the Red Sea. Believe me, you must take +all untried genius in the same scale of credit as that by which you +have fancied the chariots and horsemen submerged in the flood. They are +there, if you like; and if you don't--” + +“Your theory requires that all men's advantages should be equal, their +station alike, and their obstacles the same. Now, they are not so. +See, for instance, in our University here. _I_ am debarred from the +fellowship-bench--or, at least, from attempting to reach it--because I +am a Papist.” + +“Then turn Protestant; or if that doesn't suit you, address yourself +to kick down the barrier that stands in your way. By the bye, I did n't +know you were a Roman; how comes that? Is it a family creed, or was it a +caprice of your own?” + +“It is the religion my family have always professed,” said Nelligan, +gravely. + +“I have no right to speak of these subjects, because I have never felt +strongly enough on them to establish strong convictions; but it +appears to me that if I were you--that is, if I had _your_ head on my +shoulders--I should think twice ere I 'd sacrifice my whole future out +of respect for certain dogmas that no more interfere with one's daily +life and opinions than some obsolete usage of ancient Greece has a +bearing upon a modern suit in Chancery. There, don't look fretful and +impatient; I don't want to provoke you, nor is it worth your while +to bring your siege artillery against my card-house. I appreciate +everything you could possibly adduce by anticipation, and I yield myself +as vanquished.” + +Thus, half in earnest, half jestingly, Massingbred talked away, little +thinking how deeply many a random speech entered into his friend's +heart, taking firm root there to grow and vegetate hereafter. As for +himself, it would have been somewhat difficult to say how far his +convictions ever went with his words. Any attempt to guide and direct +him was, at any time, enough to excite a wilful endeavor to oppose it, +and whatever savored of opposition immediately evoked his resistance. +The spirit of rebellion was the keynote of his character; he could be +made anything, everything, or nothing, as authority--or as he would have +styled it, tyranny--decided. + +It was just at this very moment that an incident occurred to display +this habit of his mind in its full force. His father, by employing much +private influence and the aid of powerful friends, had succeeded in +obtaining for him the promise of a most lucrative civil appointment +in India. It was one of those situations which in a few years of +very moderate labor secure an ample fortune for the possessor. Mr. +Massingbred had forgotten but one thing in all the arrangement of this +affair, which was to apprise his son of it beforehand, and make him, as +it were, a part of the plot. That one omission, however, was enough to +secure its failure. + +Jack received the first tidings of the scheme when it was a fact, not a +speculation. It was a thing done, not to do, and consequently a “gross +piece of domestic cruelty to dispose of him and his future by an +arbitrary banishment to a distant land, linking him with distasteful +duties, uncongenial associates,” and the rest of it. In a word, it was a +case for resistance, and he did resist, and in no very measured fashion, +either. He wrote back a pettish and ill-tempered refusal of the place, +sneered at the class by whom such appointments were regarded as prizes, +and coolly said that “it was quite time enough to attach himself to the +serious business of life when he had tasted something of the pleasures +that suited his time of life; besides,” added he, “I must see which way +my ambitions point; perhaps to a seat on the Treasury benches, perhaps +to a bullock-team, a wood-axe, and a rifle in a new settlement. Of my +resolves on either head, or on anything between them, you shall have +the earliest possible intimation from your devoted, but perhaps not very +obedient, to command, + +“J. M.” + +His father rejoined angrily and peremptorily. The place had cost him +everything he could employ or enlist of friendly patronage; he made the +request assume all the weight of a deep personal obligation, and now +the solicitation and the success were all to go for nothing. What if he +should leave so very gifted a young gentleman to the unfettered use of +his great abilities? What if he abstained from any interference with +one so competent to guide himself? He threw out these suggestions too +palpably to occasion any misconception, and Jack read them aright. “I'm +quite ready for sea whenever you are pleased to cut the painter,” said +he; and the correspondence concluded with a dry intimation that two +hundred a year, less than one half of his former allowance, should be +paid into Coutts's for his benefit, but that no expenditure above that +sum would be repaid by his father. + +“I 'll emigrate; I 'll agitate; I 'll turn author, and write for the +reviews; I 'll correspond with the newspapers; I 'll travel in Afrifca; +I 'll go to sea,--be a pirate;” in fact, there was nothing for which he +thought his capacity unequal, nor anything against which his principles +would revolt. In speculation, only, however; for in sober reality he +settled down into a mere idler, discontented, dreamy, and unhappy. + +Little momentary bursts of energy would drive him now and then to his +books, and for a week or two he would work really hard; when a change as +sudden would come over him, and he would relapse into his former apathy. +Thus was it that he had lived for some time after the term had come to +an end, and scarcely a single student lingered within the silent courts. +Perhaps the very solitude was the great charm of the place; there was +that in his lonely, unfriended, uncompanionable existence that seemed to +feed the brooding melancholy in which he indulged with all the ardor +of a vice. He liked to think himself an outcast and forgotten. It was a +species of flattery that he addressed to his own heart when he affected +to need neither sympathy nor affection. Still his was not the stuff of +which misanthropy is fashioned, and he felt acutely the silence of his +friend Nelligan, who had never once written to him since they parted. + +“I 'd scarcely have left _him_ here,” said he to himself one day; “had +_he_ been in my position, I 'd hardly have quitted _him_ under such +circumstances. He knew all about my quarrel with my father. He had read +our letters on each side. To be sure he had condemned _me_, and taken +the side against me; still, when there was a breach, and that breach +offered no prospect of reconciliation, it was but scant friendship to +say good-bye, and desert me. He might, at least, have asked me down to +his house. I 'd not have gone; that 's certain. I feel myself very +poor company for myself, and I 'd not inflict my stupidity upon others. +Still, _he_ might have thought it kind or generous. In fact, in such a +case I would have taken no refusal; I'd have insisted.” + +What a dangerous hypothesis it is when we assume to act for another; +how magnanimously do we rise above all meaner motives, and only think +of what is generous and noble; how completely we discard every possible +contingency that could sway us from the road of duty, and neither look +right nor left on our way to some high object! Jack Massingbred, arguing +thus, ended by thinking himself a very fine fellow and his friend a very +shabby one,--two conclusions that, strangely enough, did not put him +into half as much good-humor with the world as he expected. At all +events, he felt very sore with Nelligan, and had he known where to +address him, would have written a very angry epistle of mock gratitude +for all his solicitude in his behalf; very unfortunately, however, he +did not know in what part of Ireland the other resided, nor did his +acquaintance with provincial dialect enable him to connect his friend +with a western county. He had so confidently expected to hear from him, +that he had never asked a question as to his whereabouts. Thus was it +with Massingbred, as he sauntered along the silent alleys of the College +Park, in which, at rare intervals, some solitary sizar might be met +with,--spare, sad-looking figures,--in whose features might be read +the painful conflict of narrow fortune and high ambition. Book in +hand generally, they rarely exchanged a look as he passed them; and +Massingbred scanned at his ease these wasted and careworn sons of labor, +wondering within himself was “theirs the right road to fortune.” + +Partly to shake off the depression that was over him by change of place, +and in part to see something of the country itself, Massingbred resolved +to make a walking-tour through the south and west of Ireland, and with a +knapsack on his back, he started one fine autumn morning for Wicklow. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. SOME KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLIGAN + +This true history contains no record of the evening Mr. Scanlan passed +at the Osprey's Nest; nor is it probable that in any diary kept by that +intelligent individual there will yet be found materials to supply this +historical void. Whether, therefore, high events and their consequences +were discussed, or that the meeting was only devoted to themes of +lighter importance, is likely to remain a secret to all time. That +matters beneath the range of politics occupied the consideration of the +parties was, however, evident from the following few lines of a note +received by young Nelligan the next morning:-- + + “Dear Joe,--I dined yesterday at the 'Nest,' and we talked + much of you. What would you think of paying a visit there + this morning to see the picture, or anything else you can + think of? I 've a notion it would be well taken. At all + events, come over and speak to me here. + + “Ever yours, + + “M. SCANLAN.” + + + +“I scarcely understand your note, Maurice,” said young Nelligan, as he +entered the little room where the other sat at breakfast. + +“Have you breakfasted?” said Scanlan. + +“Yes, an hour ago.” + +“Will you taste that salmon? Well, then, just try Poll Hanigan's attempt +at a grouse-pie; let me tell you, there is genius in the very ambition; +she got the receipt from the cook at Cro' Martin, and the imitation is +highly creditable. You 're wrong to decline it.” And he helped himself +amply as he spoke. + +“But this note?” broke in the other, half impatiently. + +“Oh--ay--the note; I 'm sure I forget what I wrote; what was it about? +Yes, to be sure, I remember now. I want you to make yourself known, up +there. It is downright folly, if not worse, to be keeping up these feuds +and differences in Ireland any longer; such a course might suit the +small politicians of Oughterard, but you and I know better, and Martin +himself knows better.” + +“But I never took any part in the conflict you speak of; I lived out of +it,--away from it.” + +“And are therefore, exactly suited to repair a breach to which you +never contributed. I assure you, my boy, the gentry--and I know them +well--will meet you more than half-way. There is not a prouder fellow +living than Martin there; he has throughout his whole life held his head +higher than any man in our county, and yet he is quite ready to +make advances towards you. Of course, what I say is strictly between +ourselves; but my opinion is, that, if you like it, you may be as +intimate up there as ever you were at old Hayes's, at the Priory.” + +“Then, what would you have me do?” asked Nelligan. + +“Just pay a visit there this morning; say that you are curious to see +that great picture,--and it is a wonderful thing, if only for the size +of it; or that you 'd like to have a look at Arran Island out of the big +telescope at the top of the house; anything will serve as a reason, and +then,--why, leave the rest to chance.” + +“But really, Maurice, I see no sufficient cause for all this,” said the +youth, timidly. + +“Look now, Joe,” said the other, drawing his chair closer to him, and +talking in the low and measured tone of a confidence,--“look now, you're +not going to pass your life as the successor to that excellent man, Dan +Nelligan, of Oughterard, selling hides and ropes and ten-penny-nails, +and making an estate the way old ladies make a patchwork quilt. You'll +be able to start in life with plenty of tin and plenty of talent; you'll +have every advantage that money and education can give, and only one +drawback on your road to success,--the mere want of blood,--that dash of +birth which forms the only real freemasonry in this world. Now mind me, +Joe; the next best thing to having this oneself is to live and associate +with those who have; for in time, what with catching up their prejudices +and learning their ways, you come to feel very much as they do; and, +what is better still, they begin to regard you as one of themselves.” + +“But if I do not ambition this,--if I even reject it?” said the other, +impatiently. + +“Then all I say is that Trinity College may make wonderful scholars, but +turns out mighty weak men of the world!” + +“Perhaps so!” said Nelligan, dryly, and with a half-nettled air. + +“I suppose you fancy there would be something like slavery in such a +position?” said Scanlan, with a derisive look. + +“I know it!” responded the other, firmly. + +“Then what do you say to the alternative,--and there is but one only +open to you,--what do you think of spending your life as a follower of +Daniel O'Connell; of being reminded every day and every hour that you +have not a privilege nor a place that he did n't win for you; that he +opened Parliament to you, and made you free of every guild where men +of ability rise to honor? Ay, Joe! and what 's a thousand times +worse,--knowing it all to be true, my boy! Take service with him once, +and if you leave him you 're a renegade; remember that, and bethink you +that there's no saying what crotchet he may have in store for future +agitation.” + +“But I never purposed any such part for myself,” broke in Nelligan. + +“Never mind, it will fall to your lot for all that, if you don't quickly +decide against it. What's Simmy Crow staring at? Look at him down there, +he's counting every window in the street like a tax-gatherer.” And +he pointed to the artist, who, shading his eyes with one hand, stood +peering at every house along the little street. “What's the matter, +Simmy?” cried he, opening the casement. + +“It's a house I'm looking for, down here, and I forget which it is; +bother them, they 're all so like at this time of the year when they 're +empty.” + +“Are you in search of a lodging, Simmy?” + +“No, it is n't that!” said the other, curtly, and still intent on his +pursuit. “Bad luck to the architect that would n't vary what they call +the 'façade,' and give one some chance of finding the place again.” + +“Who is it you want, man?” + +“Faix, and I don't even know that same!” replied the artist; “but”--and +he lowered his voice to a whisper as he spoke--“he's an elegant study,-- +as fine a head and face and as beautiful a beard as ever you saw. I met +him at Kyle's Wood a week ago, begging; and what with his fine forehead +and deep-set blue eyes, his long white hair, and his great shaggy +eyebrows, I said to myself: 'Belisarius,' says I, 'by all that's +grand,--a Moses, a Marino Faliero, or a monk in a back parlor +discoursing to an old skull and a vellum folio,--any one of these,' says +I, 'not to speak of misers, money-lenders, or magicians, as well;' and +so I coaxed him down here on Saturday last, and put him somewhere to +sleep, with a good supper and a pint of spirits, and may I never, if I +know where I left him.” + +“Three days ago?” + +“Just so; and worse than all, I shut up the place quite dark, and only +made a hole in the roof, just to let a fine Rembrandt light fall down on +his head. Oh, then, it's no laughing matter, Maurice! Sure if anything +happened to him--” + +“Your life wouldn't be worth sixpence before any jury in the county.” + +“Begad! it's what I was thinking; if they wouldn't take it as a +practical joke.” + +“You're looking for ould Brennan!” cried a weather-beaten hag; “but he's +gone to Oughterard for a summons. You'll pay dear for your tricks this +time, anyhow.” + +“Come up here, Simmy, and never mind her,” said Scanlan; then, turning +to Nelligan, he added, “There's not such a character in the county! + +“I want my friend, Mr. Nelligan, here--Mr. Nelligan--Mr. Crow--I want +him, I say, to come up and have a look at the great 'Historical '--eh, +Simmy!--would n't it astonish him?” + +“Are you a votary of art, sir?” asked Crow, modestly. + +“I 've never seen what could be called a picture, except those portraits +in the College Examination Hall might be deemed such.” + +“Indeed, and they're not worthy the name, sir. Flood, mayhap, is like, +but he's hard and stiff, and out of drawing; and Lord Clare is worse. +It's in the Low Countries you 'd see portraits, real portraits! men that +look down on you out of the canvas, as if _you_ were the intruder there, +and that _they_ were waiting to know what brought you. A sturdy old +Burgomaster, for instance, with a red-brown beard and a fierce pair +of eyes, standing up firm as a rock on a pair of legs that made many a +drawbridge tremble as he walked home to dinner on the Grand Canal, at +Rotterdam, after finishing some mighty bargain for half a spice island, +or paying a million of guilders down as a dowry for that flaxen-haired, +buxom damsel in the next frame. Look at the dimples in her neck, and +mark the folds in her satin. Is n't she comely, and calm, and haughty, +and house-wifery, all together? Mind her foot, it isn't small, but see +the shape of it, and the way it presses the ground--ay, just so--my +service to you; but you are one there 's no joking with, even if one was +alone with you.” And he doffed his hat, and bowed obsequiously as he +spoke. + +“You're an enthusiast for your art?” said Nelligan, interested by the +unmistakable sincerity of his zeal. + +“I am, sir,” was the brief reply. + +“And the painter's is certainly a glorious career.” + +“If for nothing else,” burst in Crow, eagerly, “that it can make of one +like me--poor, ignorant, and feeble, as I am--a fellow-soldier in +the same army with Van Dyke and Titian and Velasquez--to know that in +something that they thought, or hoped, or dared, or tried to do, I too +have my share! You think me presumptuous to say this; you are sneering +at such a creature as Simmy Crow for the impudence of such a boast, but +it's in humility I say it, ay, in downright abject humility; for I 'd +rather have swept out Rembrandt's room, and settled his rough boards on +Cuyp's easel, than I 'd be a--a--battle-axe guard, or a lord-in-waiting, +or anything else you like, that's great and grand at court.” + +“I envy you a pursuit whose reward is in the practice rather than in the +promise,” said Nelligan, thoughtfully. “Men like myself labor that they +may reach some far-away land of rewards and successes, and bear the +present that they may enjoy the future.” + +[Illustration: 114] + +“Ay, but it will repay you well, by all accounts,” said Crow. “Miss Mary +told us last night how you had beat every one out of the field, and had +n't left a single prize behind you.” + +“Who said this?” cried Joe, eagerly. + +“Miss Mary,--Miss Martin. She said it was a credit to us all of the +west, here, that there was one, at least, from Galway, who could do +something besides horse-racing and cock-fighting--” + +“So she did,” said Scanlan, interrupting, with some confusion. “She +said somebody had told her of young Nelligan. She called you 'Young +Nelligan.'” + +“No, no; it was to myself she said it, and the words were, 'Mr. Joseph +Nelligan;' and then, when her uncle said, 'Why don't we know him? '--” + +“My dear Simmy, you make a most horrible confusion when you attempt a +story,--out of canvas. Mind, I said out of canvas; for I confess that in +your grand 'Historical' the whole incident is admirably detailed. I 've +just said to my friend here, that he has a great pleasure before him in +seeing that picture.” + +“If you 'll do me the honor to look at it,” said Crow, bowing +courteously, “when you come to dinner to-day.” + +“Attend to _me_, Joe,” said Scanlan, passing an arm within Nelligan's, +and leading him away to another part of the room; “that fellow is little +better than an idiot. But I was just going to tell you what Martin said. +'You are intimate with young Nelligan,' said he; 'you know him well, and +you could possibly do without awkwardness what with more formality +might be difficult. Don't you think, then, that he would possibly waive +ceremony--'” + +“I must be off,” broke in Crow, hastily. “I have a sitting at twelve +o'clock, so I hope we shall see you at seven, Mr. Nelligan; your note +said seven, sharp.” And without waiting for more, he seized his hat and +hurried down the stairs. + +“A downright fool!” said Scanlan, angrily. “Mr. Martin said he 'd write +to you, if--if--if, in fact, you stood upon that punctilio; but that +he'd be all the better pleased if you 'd just accept acquaintance as +freely as he offered it, and come and dine there to-day, like a friend.” + +“Is n't there, or has there not been, some difference between him and my +father?” asked Joe. + +“A trifle,--and a mistake; the kind of thing that two men of calm heads +and common sense could have settled in five minutes, and which, to say +the truth, Martin was right in throughout. It's all passed and over now, +however, and it would be worse than foolish to revive it. There 's Miss +Martin!” cried he, “and I have a word to say to her;” and hurried off +without waiting for more. As he passed from the room, however, a letter +fell from his pocket; and as Nelligan stooped to take it up, he saw that +it was addressed to himself. He looked hesitatingly at it for a moment +or two, scarcely knowing whether or not he ought to break the seal. “It +was meant for me, at all events,” said he, and opened it. The contents +were as follows;-- + +“Mr. Martin presents his respects to Mr. Joseph Nelligan, and will feel +happy if--excusing the want of formal introduction--Mr. Nelligan will +admit him to the honor of acquaintance, and give him the pleasure of +his society at dinner, to-morrow, at seven o'clock. Mr. Martin does not +hesitate to say that to accept this unceremonious proposal will be felt +as a very great favor indeed by him and his family.” + +“What does Scanlan mean by all this? Why not have handed me this note at +once?” was Nelligan's question to himself, as he descended the stairs +and gained the street. He was not sorry that Scanlan was not in sight, +and hastened homeward to think over this strange communication. Joe well +knew that his mother was not peculiarly endowed with worldly wisdom or +acuteness; and yet such was his need of counsel at the moment, that +he determined, at least in part, to lay the case before her. “She +can certainly tell me,” said he, “if there be any reason why I should +decline this proposal.” And with this resolve he entered the cottage. + +“Don't you remember Catty Henderson, Joe?” said his mother, as he came +into the room, and presenting a young girl, very plainly but +neatly dressed, who arose to receive him with an air of well-bred +composure,--“Catty, that used to be your playfellow long ago?” + +“I didn't know you were in Ireland, Miss Henderson. I should never have +recognized you,” said Nelligan, in some confusion. + +“Nor was I till a few days back,” said she, in an accent very slightly +tinged with a foreign pronunciation. “I came home on Tuesday.” + +“Isn't she grown, joe? and such a fine girl, too. I always said she 'd +be so; and when the others would have it that your nose was too long for +the rest of your features, I said, 'Wait till she grows up,--wait till +she 's a woman;' and see now if I 'm not right.” + +It must be owned that Joe Nelligan's confusion during the delivery of +this prophetic criticism was far greater than Catty's own, who received +the speech with a low, gentle laugh, while Mrs. Nelligan went on: “I +made her stay till you came back, Joe, for I wanted her to see what +a tall creature you are, and not more than twenty,--her own age to +a month; and I told her what a genius you turned out, indeed, to the +surprise of us all, and myself, especially.” + +“Thank you, mother,” said he, smiling. + +“No, indeed, my dear, 't is your father you may thank for all your +talents and abilities; a wonderful man he is, beginning the world +without a sixpence; and there he is now, with I 'm sure I don't know how +many hundreds a year in land,--ay, Catty, in broad acres; just like any +squire in the county. Well, well, there 's many a change come over the +country since you were here,--how many years is it now?” + +“Upwards of twelve,” said the young girl. “Dear me, how time flies! It +seems like yesterday that you and Joe had the measles together, in the +yellow room up at Broom Lodge, and your poor mother was alive then, and +would insist on giving you everything cool to drink, just because you +liked it, though I told her that was exactly the reason it was sure to +be bad for you; for there 's nothing so true in life,--that everything +we wish for is wrong.” + +“An unpleasant theory, certainly,” said Catty, laughing; “but I hope +not of universal application, for I have been long wishing to see you +again.” + +“Well, well, who knows whether it may be good or bad,” said she, +sighing; “not but I 'm pleased to see you growing up the image of +your poor dear mother,--taller, maybe, but not so handsome, nor so +genteel-looking; but when you have your trials and troubles, as she had, +maybe that will come, too, for I often remarked, there 's nothing like +affliction to make one genteel.” + +“Why, mother, you are profuse in unhappy apothegms this morning,” said +Joe. + +“And you are coming to stay amongst us now, Catty; or are you going back +to France again?” said Mrs. Nelligan, not heeding the remark. + +“I scarcely know, as yet,” replied the young girl. “My father's letter +to summon me home said something about placing me as a governess, if I +were capable of the charge.” + +“Of course you are, my dear, after all your advantages; not but that I +'d rather see you anything else,--a nice light business; for instance, +in baby-linen or stationery, or in Miss Busk's establishment, if that +could be accomplished.” + +A very slight flush--so slight as to be nearly imperceptible--crossed +the young girl's cheek, but not a syllable escaped her, as Mrs. Nelligan +resumed,-- + +“And there was an excellent opening the other day at the Post here, in +the circulating-library way, and lending out a newspaper or two. I don't +know how much you might make of it. Not but maybe you 'd rather be +companion to a lady, or what they call a 'nervous invalid.'” + +“That, too, has been thought of,” said the girl, smiling; “but I have +little choice in the matter, and, happily, as little preference for one +as the other of these occupations. And now I must take my leave, for I +promised to be back by two o'clock.” + +“Well, there's Joe will see you home with pleasure, and I 'm sure you +have plenty to say to each other about long ago; not but I hope you 'll +agree better than you did then. You were the torment of my life, the way +you used to fight.” + +“I couldn't think of trespassing on Mr. Joseph's time; I should be +quite ashamed of imposing such trouble on him. So good-bye, godmamma; +good-bye, Mr. Joseph,” said she, hurriedly throwing her shawl around +her. + +“If you will allow me to accompany you,” said Joseph, scarcely knowing +whether she rejected or accepted his escort. + +“To be sure she will, and you have both more sense than to fall out now; +and mind, Joseph, you 're to be here at four, for I asked Mrs. Cronan to +dinner.” + +“Oh, that reminds me of something,” said Joe, hurriedly; and he leaned +over his mother's chair, and whispered to her, “Mr. Martin has invited +me to dine with him to-day; here is his note, which came to me in rather +a strange fashion.” + +“To dine at the Nest! May I never! But I scarcely can believe my eyes,” + said Mrs. Nelligan, in ecstasy. “And the honor, and the pleasure, too; +well, well, you 're the lucky boy.” + +“What shall I do, mother; is n't there something between my father and +him?” + +“What will you do but go; what else would you do, I 'd like to know? +What will they say at the Post when they hear it?” + +“But I want you to hear how this occurred.” + +“Well, well; I don't care,--go you must, Joe. But there 's poor Catty +walking away all alone; just overtake her, and say that a sudden +invitation from the Martins--mention it as if you were up there every +day--” + +But young Nelligan did not wait for the conclusion of this artful +counsel, but hurrying after Catty Henderson, overtook her as she had +gained the beach. + +“I have no need of an escort, Mr. Joseph,” said she, good-humoredly. “I +know every turn of the way here.” + +“But you'll not refuse my companionship?” said he. “We have scarcely +spoken to each other yet.” And as he spoke he drew his arm within her +own, and they walked along in silence. + +“My mother thinks we did nothing but quarrel long ago,” said he, after a +pause; “but if my memory serves me truly, it was upon this very pathway +we once swore to each other vows of a very different kind. Do you +recollect anything of that, Miss Henderson?” + +“I do, Mr. Joseph,” said she, with a sly half-glance as she uttered the +last word. + +“Then why 'Mr. Joseph'?” said he, half reproachfully. + +“Why 'Miss Henderson'?” said she, with a malicious smile at the other's +confusion; for somehow Joseph's manner was far less easy than her own. + +“I scarcely know why,” replied he, after a short silence, “except that +you seem so changed; and I myself, too, am probably in your eyes as much +altered--from what we both were, that--that--” + +“That, in short, it would be impossible to link the past with the +present,” said she, quickly; “and you were quite right. I 'm convinced +the effort is always a failure, and prejudices in a hundred ways the +good qualities of those who attempt it. Let us, therefore, begin our +acquaintance here; learn to know each other as we are,--that is, if we +are to know each other at all.” + +“Why do you say that?” asked he, eagerly. + +“For many reasons. We may not meet often; perhaps not at all; perhaps +under circumstances where to renew intimacy might be difficult. +Assuredly, although the path here might once have sufficed us, our roads +in life lie widely apart now, and the less we travel together the more +we shall each go towards his own goal, and--and the less regret we shall +feel at parting; and so now good-bye.” + +“You wish it?” said he, reproachfully. “You desire this?” + +“What matters it whether I wish it or not? I know it must be. Good-bye.” + +“Good-bye, then,--good-bye,” said he, affecting as much indifference as +he could; and then, slightly raising his hat, he turned away on the road +homeward. + +Joseph Nelligan's reflections were not of the pleasantest as he +sauntered slowly back. He was not exactly satisfied with himself; he +felt, he could not just say how, that the young girl had had the mastery +over him; she was more calm or self-possessed; she had more tact, or she +knew more of life; had more of self-control, or breeding, or some other +quality, whatever it might be, than he had. At all events, he was ill +at ease and discontented. Then he doubted whether he ought to have taken +her at her word when she talked of parting. It might, possibly, have +been meant by her to evoke some show of resistance on his part; that +same inequality of station she seemed to hint at might, perhaps, demand +from him a greater deference. In fact, whichever way he turned the +matter over, he saw little cause for self-gratulation; nor did he +discover that it mended matters when he tried to accuse her of French +frivolity, and such other traits as he fancied of foreign origin. + +In this not over-pleasant mood was it that he re-entered the cottage, +where his mother was busy in preparing a very formidable cravat for the +approaching dinner-party. + +“Ah, Joe!” said she, anxiously, “if you were to dress now, and then stay +quiet, you 'd be quite fresh when the time came; for, remember, it's not +like your father you are, that has the world about him, and can converse +about everything that comes uppermost; but with all your learning, you +know, you always feel somehow--” + +“Stupid, mother?” + +“Not stupid, my dear, but depressed,--out of spirits in society; so +that my advice to you is, now, dress yourself in good time, take a small +glass of ginger-cordial, and throw your eye over the second chapter of +'Social Hints,' with an account of conversation before and at dinner, +and some excellent advice about'compliments, meet for every season of +the year.'” + +“Do you think such preparations quite necessary, mother?” asked Joe, +slyly; for he rather relished the simplicity of her counsels. + +“To be sure, I do; for yours is no common difficulty, Joe. If you talk +of country matters, you 'll get into Kyle's Wood and the Chancery suit; +if you touch politics or religion, it will be worse again. The Martins, +I hear, never play cards, so you can't allude to them; and they 'll +be too grand to know anything about poor Miss Cuddy going off with the +sergeant of police, or what Con Kelly did with his aunt's furniture.” + +“So that really the topics open to me are marvellously few.” + +“Well, there's shooting; but to be sure you know nothing about that, nor +fishing, either; and I suppose farming, if you did understand it, would +n't be genteel. Indeed, I see little that is n't dangerous, except the +dearness of everything. I remark that's a subject nobody ever tires of, +and all can take their share in.” + +“And I conclude it to be fact, mother?” + +“A very melancholy fact, my dear; and so I said to Betty Gargan, +yesterday. 'It's well for _you_,' said I, 'and the likes of you, that +use nothing but potatoes; but think of us, that have to pay sixpence a +pound for mutton, six-and-a-half for the prime pieces, and veal not to +be had under eightpence.' They talk of the poor, indeed! but sure they +never suffer from a rise in butcher's meat, and care nothing at all what +tea costs. I assure you I made the tears come into her eyes, with the +way I described our hardships.” + +“So that this will be a safe subject for me, mother?” + +“Perfectly safe, my dear, and no ways mean, either; for I always +remarked that the higher people are, the stingier they are, and the more +pleasure they take in any little sharp trick that saves them sixpence. +And when that 's exhausted, just bring in the Rams.” + +“The Rams?” + +“I mean my aunt Ram, and my relations in Wexford. I 'm sure, with a +little address, you 'll be able to show how I came to be married beneath +me, and all the misery it cost me.” + +“Well, mother, I believe I have now ample material,” said Joe, rising, +with a lively dread of an opening which he knew well boded a lengthy +exposition; “and to my own want of skill must it be ascribed if I do not +employ it profitably.” And with this he hurried to his room to prepare +for the great event. + +The “Gentlemen of England” do not deem it a very formidable circumstance +to repair towards seven, or half-past, to a dinner-party, even of the +dullest and most rigid kind. There is a sombre “routine” in these cases, +so recognized that each goes tolerably well prepared for the species +of entertainment before him. There is nothing very exhilarating in the +prospect, and as little to depress. It is a leaf torn out of one of the +tamest chapters in life's diary, where it is just as rare to record a +new dish as a new idea, and where the company and the cookery are both +foreknown. + +No one goes with any exaggerated expectations of enjoyment; but as +little does he anticipate anything to discompose or displease him. +The whole thing is very quiet and well-bred; rather dull, but not +unpleasant. Now, Joseph Nelligan had not graduated as a “diner-out;” he +was about as ignorant of these solemn festivals as any man well could +be. He was not, therefore, without a certain sense of anxiety as to the +conversational requisites for such occasions. Would the company rise to +themes and places and people of which he had never as much as heard? +or would they treat of ordinary events, and if so, on what terms? If +politics came to be discussed, would Mr. Martin expect him to hear in +silence opinions from which he dissented? Dare he speak his sentiments, +at the cost of directing attention to himself?--a course he would fain +have avoided. These, and innumerable other doubts, occupied him as he +was dressing, and made him more than once regret that he had determined +to accept this invitation; and when the hour at last came for him to set +out, he felt a sense of shrinking terror of what was before him greater +than he had ever known as he mounted the dreaded steps of the College +Examination Hall. + +He might, it is true, have bethought him of the fact that where Simmy +Crow and Maurice Scanlan were guests, he too might pass muster without +reproach; but he did not remember this, or, at least, it failed to +impress him sufficiently. Nor was his dread without a certain dash of +vanity, as he thought of the contrast between the humble place he was +perhaps about to occupy at a great man's table, and the proud one he +had achieved in the ranks of scholarship and science. Thus musing, he +sauntered slowly along till he found himself in front of the little +garden of the Osprey's Nest. He looked at his watch,--it was exactly +seven; so he pulled the bell, and entered. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE MARTIN ARMS + +In the small and not over-neat parlor of the Martin Arms at Oughterard, +a young man sat at his breakfast, at times casting his eyes over the +columns of the “Vindicator,” and anon strolling to the window to watch +the gathering of the country people at the weekly market. The scene +was one of that mingled bustle and languor so characteristically Irish. +Cart-loads of turf, vegetables, fruit, or turkeys blocked up the narrow +passage between booths of fancy wares, gilt jewelry, crockery, and +cutlery; the vendors all eagerly vociferating commendations of their +stores, in chorus with still more clamorous beggars, or the discordant +notes of vagrant minstrelsy. Some animal monstrosity, announced by a +cracked-voiced herald and two clarionets, added to a din to which loud +laughter contributed its share of uproar. + +The assemblage was entirely formed of the country people, many of whom +made the pretext of having a pig or a lamb to sell the reason of +their coming; but, in reality, led thither by the native love of a +gathering,--that fondness to be where their neighbors were,--without +any definite aim or object. There was, then, in strong contrast to the +anxious solicitation of all who had aught to sell, the dreary, languid, +almost apathetic look of the mere lounger, come to while away his weary +hour and kill time just like any very bored fine gentleman who airs his +listlessness along St James's Street, or lazily canters his _ennui_ down +Rotten Row. + +Jack Massingbred--for he was the traveller whose straw hat and knapsack +stood upon a table near--was amused at a scene so full of its native +characteristics. The physiognomy, the dress, the bearing of the people, +their greetings as they met, their conduct of a bargain, all bespoke a +nation widely differing from the sister country, and set him a-dreaming +as to how it was that equality of laws might very possibly establish +anything but equality of condition amongst people so dissimilar. + +[Illustration: 126] + +While thus musing, his eye chanced to rest upon the half-effaced +inscription over a shop door in front, and where the name of Daniel +Nelligan figured as “licensed for all kinds of groceries and spirits.” + “Nelligan,” repeated he to himself, “I shall certainly quiz my friend +Joe, when we meet, about his namesake in Oughterard. How good it would +be to pick up some details of our friend opposite to torment him with! +What rare fun to affect to have discovered a near relative in this man +of hides, glue, sugar, and Jamaica rum! Eh, gad, I'll try it.” And with +this resolve he crossed the street at once, and soon found himself in +the compact crowd which thronged the doorway of this popular shop. + +It was, indeed, a busy scene, since many who were there came as much +sellers as buyers, giving all the complexity of barter to their several +transactions. Here was a staid country-woman exchanging her spunyarn, or +her “cloth,” as it is called, for various commodities in tea, candles, +and such like; here a farmer, with a sample of seed-oats in his +pocket-handkerchief, of which he wanted the value in certain farm +utensils; here was another, with a stout roll of home-made frieze to +dispose of; some were even fain to offer a goose or a hen as the medium +for a little tobacco, or some equally tempting luxury of cottier life. +But there was another class of customers, who, brushing their way +through the throng, made for a small, dingy-looking chamber behind +the shop, in which Mr. Nelligan performed the functions of banker and +money-lender, discounting small bills, advancing loans, and transacting +all the various duties of a petty capitalist,--means by which, it was +alleged, he had already amassed a very ample fortune. + +An announcement in writing on the glass door of this sanctum informed +Massingbred that “bank-notes” were exchanged, and “small loans advanced +on good security,” suggesting to him at once the means of opening an +acquaintance with the interior. Without any very definite purpose, +however, he now found himself one of a very closely packed crowd within +the chamber. At a small desk, around which ran a railing of about a foot +in height, serving, as it were, to “filter the stream” of solicitation +that poured in upon him, sat a dark-eyed, bilious-looking man of about +fifty; a black wig, cut in two deep arches over the temples, showed +a strongly formed, massive head, very favorably in contrast to the +features beneath it, which were only indicative of intense shrewdness +and cunning. The eyes, in particular, were restless and furtive-looking, +distrust and suspicion giving their entire expression,--qualities, it +was to be owned, in very active employment in the intercourse of his +daily life. + +The anxious looks around him--careworn, eager, tremulous with anxiety +as they were--seemed the very opposite to his own, full of the security +that a strong purse bestows, and stern in the conscious strength of his +affluence. + +“It won't do, Hagan,” said he, with a half-smile, as he pushed back +through the grating a very dirty, discolored piece of paper. “You 'll +be off to America before it comes due. I would n't take the +Lord-Lieutenant's note at six months, as times go.” + +“See, now, Mr. Nelligan,” replied the other, pressing his face close +to the cage, and talking with intense eagerness. “May I never see +Christmas, but I 'll pay it 'T was marryin' the daughter left me low in +cash; but with the blessing of God and your help--” + +“I hope you 're more certain of the blessing than the help. What's +this with the string round it?” continued Nelligan, addressing another +applicant. + +“'T is a roll of notes I wanted to ax your honor about. Molly never 'let +on' she had them till Friday last; and now that James is going away, and +wants a trifle to fit him out--” + +“Why, they're French's Bank, man, that broke years ago,--they 're not +worth a farthing!” + +“Arrah, don't say so, and God reward you,” cried the poor fellow, while +his eyes filled up and his lip trembled convulsively; “don't take the +hope out of my heart all at onst. Look at them again, your honor, and +maybe you 'll think different.” + +“If I did, I 'd be as great a fool as yourself, Patsy. The bank is +closed, and the banker dead this many a day; and I would n't give +you sixpence for sixty thousand of them. Take him out in the fresh +air,--give him a mouthful of water,” added he, hastily, as the wretched +countryman staggered back, sick, and almost fainting with the sad +tidings. + +“Mrs. Mooney,” said he, addressing a pale, mild-featured woman in a +widow's cap and black gown, “you can't expect to hear from Dublin for a +week or ten days to come. It takes some time to administer; but if you +are in want of a few pounds--” + +“No, sir, thank you,” said she, in a low voice; “but as I can't go back +to the place again,--as I 'll never be able to live there now--” + +“Don't be in a hurry, Mrs. Mooney, do nothing rash. None of us know what +we can do till we 're tried. There's Miles Dogherty never thought he 'd +be paying me that eight pound fifteen he owes me, and see now if he is +n't come with it to-day.” + +“Faix, and I am not,” sturdily responded a very powerfully built man in +the comfortable dress of a substantial farmer. “I don't owe it, and +I 'll never pay it; and what's more, if you get a decree against me +to-morrow, I'd sell every stick and stone in the place and go to 'Quay +bec'.” + +“Indeed you would n't, Miles, not a bit more than I'd go and take the +law of an old friend and neighbor.” + +“Faix, I never thought you would,” said the stout man, wiping his +forehead, and appearing as if he had forgotten his wrath. + +“And now, Miles, what about that water-course?” said Nelligan, +good-humoredly; “are you content to leave it to any two fair men--” + +As he got thus far, his eye for the first time fell upon Massingbred, +who, with folded arms, was leaning against a wall, an attentive +spectator of the whole scene. + +“That is a stranger yonder! what can he want here?” said Nelligan, who +watched the attentive look of Massingbred's face with considerable +distrust. He whispered a few words into the ear of a man beside him, +who, making his way through the crowd, addressed the young man with-- + +“It's the master, sir, wants to know if he could do anything for your +honor?” + +“For _me?_ oh, you spoke to _me?_” said Massingbred, suddenly recalled +to himself. “Yes, to be sure; I wanted to know--that is, I was +thinking--” And he stopped to try and remember by what device he had +purposed making Mr. Nelligan's acquaintance. + +While he thus stood doubting and confused, his eyes suddenly met the +black, searching, deep-set orbs that peered at him behind the grating; +and without knowing how or why, he slowly approached him. + +“In what way can I be of any use to you, sir?” said Nelligan, in a tone +which very palpably demanded the reason of his presence there. + +Jack Massingbred was eminently “cool,”--that is, he was possessed of +that peculiar assurance which rarely suffers itself to be ruffled by a +difficulty. In the intercourse of society, and with men of the world, he +could have submitted to any test unabashed; and yet now, in presence of +this shrewd-looking and very commonplace personage, he, somehow, felt +marvellously ill at ease, and from the simple reason that the man before +whom he stood was not of his “world,” but one of a set of whose habits +and thoughts and ways he was in utter ignorance. + +Nelligan's question was a second time addressed to him, and in the same +words, before he thought of framing a reply to it. For a second or two +it occurred to him to say that he had strolled in, half inadvertently, +and apologizing for the intrusion, to withdraw; but his pride was +offended at the notion of defeat this conduct implied, and with an +assumption of that conventional impudence far more natural to him, he +said,-- + +“It was your name, sir, attracted me--the name 'Nelligan' which I read +over your door--being that of a very dear and valued friend of mine, +suggested to me to inquire whether you might not be relatives.” + +The cool indifference which accompanied these words, uttered as they +were in a certain languid drawl, were very far from predisposing +Nelligan in favor of the speaker; while the pretence of attaching +any singularity to a name so common as his own, struck him at once as +indicative of covert impertinence. + +“Nelligan is not a very remarkable name down here, sir,” dryly responded +he. + +“Very possibly,” replied Jack, with all his accustomed ease. “I know +little or nothing of Ireland. Your namesake, or your relative, perhaps, +was a college friend of mine, but to what part of the country he +belonged, I never knew.” + +The words, “a college friend,” roused the other's anxiety, and leaning +forward eagerly, and dropping his voice to a whisper, he said,-- + +“Where? In what college, may I ask, sir?” + +“In Trinity, Dublin.” + +“The Medallist of this year, you mean?” said the other, almost +breathless in his anxiety. + +“Just so. The same fellow who has been sweeping away all the honors of +his day. You have heard of him, it would seem?” + +“He is my son, sir. I 'm Joe Nelligan's father!” + +Massingbred's astonishment did not betray itself by any change of +feature; not a word escaped him; but his eye ranged over the scene +around him, and came back to rest upon old Nelligan's face with an +expression of the calmest meaning. + +“What a fortunate accident--for _me_, I mean,” continued he. “Joe and +I are very dear friends, and it is a great happiness for me to make +his father's acquaintance. Is he with you now?” “No, sir; he's at the +sea,--a place called Kilkieran, about twenty miles away; but we 'll have +him back by tomorrow if you 'll stay with us, and I 'm sure you 'll not +refuse me that pleasure. The young gentleman who is my son's friend, is +mine also, if he 'll permit me to call him so; and now just tell me what +name shall I say?--who is it that I 'm to tell Joe has arrived here?” + +“Say that Jack Massingbred is come, and I 'll lay my life on't you'll +see him here as fast as may be.” + +“And now, Mr. Massingbred, just take up your quarters with us. Where are +you stopping? I 'll send over the boy for your trunks, for I need n't +say that this must be your home while you stay at Oughterard.” The +genial tone of warm hospitality in which he now spoke made him seem +a very different man from the hard-featured old money-lender he had +appeared when Jack first beheld him, and Massingbred returned his +cordial shake hands with a pressure equal to his own, while he said,-- + +“Be assured that I accept your offer most heartily. My whole baggage is +a knapsack and a fishing-rod, so that if you admit me as your guest you +must dispense with all beyond the very humblest requirements. I have no +coat, except this on me; and, when I brush my hair, I have dressed for +dinner.” + +“You are amongst very humble people, Mr. Massingbred,--a country +shopkeeper, and his wife, and son,--and they 'll be only too happy to +feel that you don't despise their company. Come, and I 'll show you your +room.” And so saying, Nelligan led him up a narrow stair, and at the +end of a corridor opened a door into a neatly furnished chamber, which +looked out into a spacious garden. The whole interior was scrupulously +clean and comfortable; and as Jack surveyed his new dominions, he +inwardly blessed his good fortune that had piloted him into such a +haven. + +“I 'll just step down and write to Joe. Meanwhile you 'll have your +things brought over to you. Make yourself at home here--at least, as +much as you can in such a place--and when you want anything, just ask +for it.” And with these words old Nelligan left him to his own thoughts. + +Whatever savored of an adventure was the delight of Jack Massingbred. +He was one of those men whose egotism takes the shape of playing hero to +themselves,--a tolerably large category amongst the spoiled children +of this world. To be thrown into any strange or novel position, with +associates he was unused to, and amidst circumstances totally unlike all +he had ever met before, was his great happiness; and although here there +was nothing like actual peril to heighten the zest of the enjoyment, +there was a certain dash of embarrassment in the situation that +increased its piquancy. This embarrassment lay in his approaching +meeting with young Nelligan. + +All the reserve his young college friend had maintained with regard to +his family was at once explained; and Jack began to think over how +often it must have occurred to him to say the most galling and offensive +things in his ignorance of Nelligan's real station. “If he had been +frank and open with me,” said he to himself, “this would never have +happened.” But therein Jack made two errors, since Nelligan was in no +wise bound to make such revelations, nor was Massingbred the man to +distinguish himself amongst his associates by a close friendship with +the son of a country shopkeeper. He had been trained in a very different +school, and taught to estimate his own station by the standard of +his companionship. Indeed, he had witnessed the lenity which met his +transgressions when they occurred in high company, and saw his father +pay the debts he had contracted amongst titled associates with a far +more generous forgiveness than had they taken their origin with +more plebeian friends. “What could have induced the man to become a +Fellow-Commoner,” said he, over and over; “it is such a palpable piece +of presumption?” The truth was, Jack felt excessively irritated at never +having even suspected his friend's pretensions, and was eager to throw +the blame of a deception where none had ever been practised. + +“They told me I should find everything very different here from in +England, but they never hinted at anything like this.” There came then +another phase over his reflections, as he asked himself, “But what +affair is it of mine? Nelligan never thrust himself on me, it was I that +sought him. He never proposed introducing me to his family, it was I +that made them out,--I, in fact, who have imposed myself upon them. If +I deemed the old grocer _infra dig._, I need never have known him; but +I have not felt this to be the case. He may be--indeed, Joe Nelligan's +father ought to be--a very superior fellow, and at all events the whole +situation is new, and must be amusing.” + +Such was the course of his thoughts as he arranged his clothes in the +little chest of drawers, put out his few books and papers on the table, +and proceeded to make himself perfectly at home and comfortable in his +new quarters. + +The embarrassments of selfish men are always lighter than those of other +people, their egotism filling, as it does, such a very large space in +the sea of their troubles. Thus was it that Massingbred suffered little +discomfort at the thought of his friend Nelligan's probable shame and +awkwardness, his thoughts being occupied by how he, clever fellow that +he was, had traced out his home and origin,--won, by a few words, the +old father's esteem, and established himself, by his own sharp wits, a +guest of his house. + +“It is a downright adventure,” said he; he even thought how the +thing would tell afterwards at some convivial meeting, and set about +dramatizing to himself his own part in the incident, to heighten the +piquancy of the narrative. He resolved to conform in everything to the +habits of the household,--to accommodate himself in all respects to +old Nelligan's tastes, so that Joe should actually be amazed at the +versatile resources of his nature, and struck with astonishment at this +new evidence of his powers. + +Nor was Mr. Nelligan idle during all this time; the thought of a fellow +collegian of his son Joe being a guest under his roof was a very proud +and inspiring reflection. It was such a recognition of Joe's social +claims,--so flat a contradiction to all the surmises of those who +deprecated his college life, and said “that old Dan was wrong to put +his boy into Trinity”--that he already regarded the incident as the full +earnest of success. + +“What would have brought him here, if it wasn't for Joe? How would he +ever have been under my roof, if he wasn't Joe's friend?” There was a +palpable triumph here that nothing could gainsay, and with a proud heart +he locked up his desk, resolving to do no more business that day, but +make it one of enjoyment. + +“Who will I get to dine with us,” thought he, “since Joe can't have +the letter before this evening, and do his best he won't be here before +morning?” The question of those who should fill the places around his +board was a difficulty he had never experienced before, for Mr. Nelligan +was the first man in Oughterard, and never had any trouble about his +dinner company. His politics--very decided as they were--drew the line +amongst his acquaintances, and the Liberal party well knew that they +alone were the partakers of his hospitalities. There now, however, came +the thought that the most respectable residents of the town--Dr. Dasy, +of the Infirmary; Mr. Scanlan, the Attorney; and Morris Croft, the +Adjutant of the Galway------were Conservatives. These were the +fit company to meet young Massingbred, at least for the first day; +afterwards, he might be introduced to their own set. And yet, Father +Neal Rafferty would be outraged at all this. Peter Hayes, of the Priory, +would never enter his doors again; and Peter Hayes had made a will in +favor of Joe Nelligan, and left him every sixpence he had in the world. +“What if we mixed them all together?” said Dan, fairly puzzled by all +the conflicting interests. “A good dinner, some excellent port wine, and +'lashings' of whiskey-punch, might mould the ingredients together--at +least, when under the restraint of a stranger's presence--sufficiently +to pass muster!” + +From his doubts as to how the experiment would succeed, came others +as to whether the guests would condescend to meet; and thus his +embarrassments went on increasing around him without his finding a way +through them. + +“That's an elegant salmon I saw Catty bringing home to you, Nelligan?” + said a red-faced man, with large white whiskers, and a most watery look +in his eyes. + +“Yes, Brierley, there's a young gentleman just come down here--a friend +of Joe's in college, to stop a day or two with us.” + +“A nob?” said the other, with a wink. + +Nelligan nodded assent and went on,-- + +“And I 'm just bothered how to get two or three to make company for +him.” + +“If it's grandeur you want, why don't you go over to the barracks there, +and ask Captain Downie and the two others? Faix! it's a hearty welcome +you 'd get, for they 've never seen the inside of Cro' Martin since the +detachment came here.” + +“It 's my own acquaintances I 'd like to ask to my house, Mat Brierley,” + said Nelligan, proudly; “and the time was when they were n't shy of +coming there.” + +“What do you say to Peter Hayes, then?” said the other. “If you mean to +do the civil thing, you'll ask him before he buys that old highwayman +of a goose he's cheapening yonder; and there's Father Rafferty in the +snuff-shop, and Tom Magennis, and myself-, and that makes six, just the +right number for the little round table.” + +Nelligan paused, and seemed to reflect over the proposition. + +“You 'll be quizzing the Englishman,--'taking a rise' out of the Saxon, +Brierley?” said Nelligan, distrustfully. + +“Devil a bit; I know better manners than that!” + +“Tom Magennis would have at him about politics; I know he could n't +refrain. And I need n't tell you that English notions are not ours upon +these topics.” + +“Give Tom a hint, and he 'll never touch the subject.” + +“And Father Neal, will you vouch for him that he won't attack the +Established Church, and abuse the Protestants?” + +“That I will, if he's not provoked to it.” + +“Can you answer for yourself, Mat Brierley, that you won't try to borrow +a five-pound note of him before the evening's over?” said Nelligan, +laughingly. + +“I' ve a friend here,” said Brierley, tapping the other on the breast, +“that would never see me in want of such a trifle as that.” + +Nelligan made no other reply to this speech than a somewhat awkward +grimace, and walked hurriedly on to overtake a tall and very fat man +that was just turning the corner of the street. This was Father Neal +Rafferty. A very flourishing wave of his reverence's hand, and an urbane +bend of his body, betokened the gracious acceptance he gave to the +other's invitation; and Brierley walked away, muttering to himself: +“They may thank me for this dinner, then; for old Dan was going to feed +the 'swells,' if I had n't stopped him.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. A DINNER-PARTY + +People who live much together in small and secluded districts, grow at +length to feel a very great distrust for all strangers. Their own ways +and their own topics have become such a perfect world to them, that to +feel ignorant of these themes appears like affectation or contempt; and +the luckless man who drops down into such a “coterie,” is invariably +deemed impertinent or a fool. Jack Massing-bred fully appreciated this +difficulty; but it imparted such a piquancy to his “adventure,” as he +persisted in calling it to himself, that he would n't have dispensed +with it, had he been able. It was in this temper he entered the room +where the guests were now assembled, and, rather impatiently, awaiting +his arrival. + +It is a very cold, calculating sort of interval, that ten minutes before +dinner; and men regard the stranger presented to them with feelings far +more critical than kindly. Massingbred did not go through the ordeal +unscathed; and it was easy to see in the constraint and reserve of all +present, how little his appearance contributed to the promise of future +conviviality. He made no effort to dispel this impression, for, after +saluting each in turn, he walked to the window, and amused himself with +what was passing in the street. + +The dinner was announced at last, and passed off drearily enough; none +liked to adventure on any topic of local interest, and they knew of +little others. Brierley was stiffly polite; the priest blandly tranquil; +the host himself uneasy and anxious; and poor old Peter Hayes, of the +Priory, downright melancholy. + +Massingbred saw the effect he was producing, and saw it with pleasure. +His calculation was this: “Had I started 'at speed' with these fellows, +they would have blown me at once. All my efforts to assimilate myself +to their tastes, to join in their habits and adopt their notions, would +have been detected in a trice. They must be brought to believe that they +have made a convert of me themselves; the wider the space between us +at first, the greater will be their merit in making me forget it in the +end.” + +As the whiskey-punch made its appearance, and the bottle of port was +passed up beside the stranger, Massingbred thought the time was come +when he might change his tactics, and open the campaign in force. “No,” + said he, as the host pushed the wine towards him, “I 've come over here +to try and learn something about Ireland, and I must give myself every +advantage of judging from a native point of view. This excellent old +port may strengthen a man to stand by many an old prejudice, but my +object is to lay in a new stock of ideas, and I 'd rather try a new +regimen.” + +“That 's your bottle, then, sir. Try that,” said Brierley, pushing +towards him a small square decanter of a faint greenish fluid. + +“That is 'poteen,' Mr. Massingbred,” said the host. “It's the small +still that never paid the King a farthing.” + +“I like it all the better, for that reason,” said Jack. “There's +something independent in the very thought of a liquor that never +submitted to the indignity of a gauger.” + +“That's not a very English sentiment, sir,” said the priest, slyly. + +“I don't know whether it be or not,” rejoined Massingbred; “but I can +neither perceive common-sense or justice in a law that will not allow +a man to do what he likes with his own. Why, if Parliament declared +to-morrow you should n't boil your potatoes in Ireland, but eat them +fried--or that you should n't make bread of your corn, but eat it with +milk as the Neapolitans do--” + +“I wish we could do the same here, with all my heart,” said the priest. +“It's little wheat or even barley-meal one of our poor people ever +sees.” + +“A wet potato and water is their diet,” said old Hayes, as he sipped his +punch. + +“I can believe it well,” said Massingbred, with great semblance of +feeling. “I witnessed dreadful poverty and destitution as I came along, +and I couldn't help asking myself: What are the gentry about in this +country? Do they or do they not see these things? If they do, are they +indifferent to them?” + +“They are indifferent to them; or even worse, they rejoice in them,” + broke in a deep-voiced, energetic-looking man, who sat at the foot +of the table, and had, although silent, taken a deep interest in the +conversation. “They see, sir, in the destitution of Ireland another +rivet in the chains of her bondage. As my 'august leader' remarked, it's +the rust on the fetters, though--and if it proclaims the length of the +captivity, it suggests the hope of freedom.” + +“Mr. Magennis is the dearest friend and trusty agent of Mr. O'Connell,” + said Nelligan, in a whisper to Massingbred. + +“Here's his health, whoever said that!” cried Jack, enthusiastically, +and as if not hearing the host's observation. + +“That's a toast; we'll all drink--and standing, too,” exclaimed +Magennis. “'Daniel O'Connell, gentlemen, hip, hip, hurra! '“ And the +room rang again with the hearty acclamations of the company. + +“By Jove! there was something very fine--it was chivalrous--in the way +he brought the Catholic question to issue at last. The bold expedient +of testing the event by an individual experience was as clever as it was +daring,” exclaimed Massingbred. + +“You were in favor of the measure then, sir?” said Father Neal, with a +bland smile that might mean satisfaction or suspicion. + +“I was always an Emancipationist; but I am little satisfied with +the terms on which the bill has been passed. I 'd have had no +restrictions,--no reservations. It should, according to me, have been +unconditional or nothing.” + +“You've heard the old proverb about half a loaf, sir?” said Hayes, with +a dry laugh. + +“And a poor adage it is, in its ordinary acceptation,” said Jack, +quickly. “It 's the prompting spirit to many a shabby compromise! What +disabilities should apply to any of us here, in regard to any post +or position in our country's service, by reason of opinions which are +between ourselves and our own hearts--I say any of us, because some +here--one I perceive is”--and he bowed to Father Rafferty--“a +Catholic; and I for myself avow that, if for no other reason than this +proscription, I'd be on this side.” + +“You're not in Parliament, sir, are you?” asked old Peter, with a +seriousness that sorely tested the gravity of those at either side of +him. + +“No,” said Jack, frankly. “My father and I don't agree on these +subjects; and, consequently, though there is a seat in my family, I have +not the honor to occupy it.” + +“Are you any relation to Colonel Moore Massingbred, sir?” asked +Magennis. “His son, sir.” + +The questioner bowed, and a brief silence ensued; short as it was, it +enabled Jack to decide upon his next move, and take it. + +“Gentlemen,” said he, “I 'm fully aware that my name is not a favorite +in Ireland; and shall I own to you, till I came to this country myself, +I half believed that this same humble opinion of us was to our credit! +I used to hear such narratives of Irish barbarism, Irish brutality, +priestcraft, superstition, and Heaven knows what besides, that I fully +persuaded myself that our small repute was very nigh to an eulogium on +us. Well, I came over to Trinity College strongly impressed with the +notion that, because I had gained successes at Oxford, here I should be +triumphant. It is in no boastfulness I say that I had acquitted myself +well at home; I had attained to rather a reputation. Well, as I said, I +came over to Trinity and pitted myself against the best man going, and +a very pretty beating he gave me. Yes, gentlemen, he beat me in +everything, even in those which we Oxford men fancy our specialties. I +soon learned that I had not the shadow of a pretension to stand against +him, and I learned, also, that it was no disgrace to me to be thus +vanquished, since he was not alone the foremost man of his time, but +the best scholar the University had seen for a full century; and shall +I add, as unpretending and as modest in the midst of all his triumphs as +he was unapproachable by all competitors. And now; gentlemen, I will +ask your leave to drink his health; doubtless it has been many a time +toasted before over the same table, but none ever more ardently followed +the sentiment with his whole heart than do I in proposing to you, 'Three +cheers for Joe Nelligan.'” + +The rambling opening of this brief speech was quite forgotten in the +enthusiasm that greeted its close. In every respect it was a happy +diversion. It relieved the company from a discussion that promised but +gloomily. It brought back their minds to a pleasant theme, and enabled +them, so to say, to pay off in grateful cheers to their host his own +hospitable reception of them. As for Nelligan himself, he was sincerely, +deeply affected; and though he twice essayed to speak, he could get no +further than “My son Joe”--“my boy”--and sat down murmuring--“Thank +you--God bless you for it”--and covered his face with his hands. + +Awkward as was the moment, it was relieved by the company filling their +glasses and nodding in most friendly fashion to Massingbred as they +drank his health; while a low murmur of approbation went round the +table, of which he was most unmistakably the object. + +“Are you fond of shooting, sir?” asked Brierley. “Well, then, I hope +you'll not leave the country without giving me a day or two up at my +little place in the mountains: There's some snipe left; and, upon my +conscience, I'll be proud to see you at Kilmaccud.” + +“And there's worse quarters, too!” broke in Magennis. “My 'august +leader' spent a day and a half there.” + +“I'll drive you over there myself,” whispered Father Neal, “if you'll +finish the week at the 'Rookery,'--that's what they call the priest's +house.” + +Massingbred accepted everything, and shook hands across the table in +ratification of half a dozen engagements. + +“You don't think I'll let you cheat me out of my guest so easily,” said +Nelligan. “No, gentlemen. This must be Mr. Massingbred's head-quarters +as long as he stays here, for, faith, I 'd not give him up to Mr. Martin +himself.” + +“And who may he be?” asked Jack. + +“Martin of Cro' Martin.” + +“The owner of half the county.” + +“Of the town you 're in, this minute.” + +“The richest proprietor in the West.” + +Such were the pattering replies that poured in upon him, while words of +intense astonishment at his ignorance were exchanged on all sides. + +“I believe I have given you a fair guarantee for my ignorance, +gentlemen,” said Jack, “in confessing that I never so much as heard of +Martin of Cro' Martin. Does he reside on his estate here?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Nelligan, “he lives at Cro' Martin Castle, about +sixteen miles from this; and certainly, while in this part of the +country, you ought to pay the place a visit. I have never been there +myself, but I hear the most astonishing accounts of the splendor of the +furniture and the magnificence of the whole establishment.” + +“There's pictures there,” said the priest, “that cost the grandfather of +the present man a quarter of a million sterling.” + +“Why, the three statues in the hall, they say, are worth ten thousand +pounds,” said Brierley. + +“Be gorra! when a man would give four hundred for a bull, there 's no +saying what he 'd stop at,” broke in Peter Hayes. “I went up to see +him myself, and indeed he's a beauty, there 's no denying it,--but four +hundred pound! Think of four hundred pound!” + +“The stable is the best thing in the place,” said Father Neal; “they 're +mighty nice cattle, there, for every kind of work.” + +“Thanks to his niece for that,” cried Magennis; “she knows a horse with +any man in the West of Ireland.” + +“And can break him, too,” chimed in Brierley; “I don't care what his +temper is. Let Miss Mary get her hand on him, and he 'll turn out well.” + +“I 'm driving an old chestnut mare this minute that she trained,” said +the priest; “and though she has n't a good leg amongst the four, and is +touched in the wind, she 's as neat a stepper, and as easy in the mouth +as a five-year-old.” + +“She 's a fine young woman!” said old Hayes, drinking off his glass +as though toasting her to himself, “and not like any Martin ever I seen +before.” + +“No pride about her!” said Brierley. + +“I wouldn't exactly say that, Matthew,” interposed Father Neal. “But her +pride isn't the common kind.” + +“She's as proud as Lucifer!” broke in Nelligan, almost angrily. “Did you +ever see her drive up to a shop-door in this town, and make the people +come out to serve her, pointing with her whip to this, that, and +t'other, and maybe giving a touch of the lash to the boy if he would n't +be lively enough?” + +“Well, I 'd never call her proud,” rejoined old Hayes, “after seeing her +sitting in Catty Honan's cabin, and turning the bread on the griddle for +her, when Catty was ill.” + +“Is she handsome?” asked Massingbred, who was rather interested by the +very discrepancy in the estimate of the young lady. + +“We can agree upon that, I believe, sir,” said the priest; “there 's no +disputing about her beauty.” + +“I never saw her in a room,” said Magennis; “but my 'august leader' +thought her masculine.” + +“No, no,” said Nelligan; “she 's not. She has the Martin +manner,--overbearing and tyrannical,--if you like; but she can be gentle +enough with women and children.” + +“You have certainly given me a strong curiosity to see her,” said +Massingbred. “Does she always live here?” + +“Always. I don't believe she was ever beyond the bounds of the county in +her life!” + +“And how does she pass her time?” asked he, with some astonishment. + +“She manages the whole estate,” said Nelligan; “her uncle 's a conceited +old fool, incapable of anything, and lets her do what she likes; and +so she drains, and plants, and encloses; makes roads, bridges, and even +harbors; has all the new-fangled inventions about farming, and, if +what I hear be true, is spending more money on the property than the +fee-simple is worth.” + +“Yes, sir,” chimed in Magennis; “and she 's trying hard to bring back +the old feudal devotion to the Chief, which was the bane of Ireland. +She wants the tenants to have no will of their own, but just to vote +whatever the landlord tells them. She had the impudence to tell my +'august leader' that they had no need of him down there,--that the +county was too poor to waste its energies in factious squabbles.” + +“If she 'd let the people alone about their religion, I 'd think better +of her,” said Father Neal. “What does _she_ know about controversial +points and disputed dogmas?” + +“Maybe you 're wrong about that,” broke in Peter Hayes. “She came to me +the other day for ten shillings for a school, and she said, 'Come over, +Mr. Hayes; come and tell me if there 's anything you are dissatisfied +with.'” + +“And did you go?” asked the priest. + +“Faix! I did not,” said Peter, with a dry look. “I thought the visit +might cost me ten shillings, and so I stayed at home.” + +The manner in which he uttered these words produced a hearty laugh, in +which he himself most good-humoredly took part. + +“Well, she's good to the poor, anyhow,” said Brierley; “and it's a new +thing for one of her name to be so!” + +“All policy, all scheming!” said Magennis. “She sees how the family +influence has declined, and is fast becoming obliterated in this +country, by reason of their worthlessness, insolence, and neglect of the +people; and she 's just shrewd enough to see how far a little cajolery +goes with poor Paddy; but, as my 'august leader' observed, it is not a +frieze coat, nor a pair of brogues, that can compensate for the loss of +that freedom that is every man's birthright; and it is not by an ounce +of tea, or a dose of physic, we 'll ever see Ireland great, glorious, +and free.” + +“'First gem of the earth, and first flower of the sea!'” exclaimed +Hayes, with enthusiasm. + +Nor in the moment was the blunder of his quotation noticed by any but +Massingbred. “You are an admirer of Tommy Moore, I see, sir?” said he, +to the old man. + +“I am fond of 'The Meeting of the Waters,' sir,” said Hayes, meekly, and +like a man who was confessing to a weakness. + +“And here 's the man to sing it!” cried Brierley, clapping the priest +familiarly on the shoulder; a proposal that was at once hailed with +acclamation. + +“'T is many a long day I have n't sung a note,” said Father Neal, +modestly. + +“Come, come, Father Neal; we'll not let you off that way. It's not under +this roof that you can make such an excuse!” + +“He 'd rather give us something more to his own taste,” said Brierley. +“'To Ladies' eyes around, boys,'--eh, Father Rafferty?” + +“That's my favorite of all the songs he sings,” broke in Magennis. + +“Let it be, 'To Ladies' eyes!'” cried Massingbred; “and we 'll drink +'Miss Martin's.' 'I 'll warrant she 'll prove an excuse for the glass.'” + And he sang the line with such a mellow cadence that the whole table +cheered him. + +[Illustration: 146] + +To the priest's song, given with considerable taste and no mean musical +skill, there followed, in due course, others, not exactly so successful, +by Brierley and Magennis, and, at last, by old Peter himself, who +warbled out a wonderful ditty, in a tone so doleful that two of the +company fell fast asleep under it, and Brierley's nerves were so +affected that, to support himself, he got most completely drunk, and in +a very peremptory tone told the singer to desist! + +“Don't you perceive,” cried he, “that there 's a stranger +present,--a young English cub,--come down to laugh at us? Have you no +discretion,--have you no decency, Peter Hayes, but you must go on with +your stupid old 'croniawn' about dimples and the devil knows what?” + +“Another tumbler, Mr. Massingbred,--one more?” said the host, with the +air, however, of one who did not exact compliance. + +“Not for the world,” said Jack, rising from table. “Have I your +permission to light a cigar?” + +“To do just whatever you please,” said Nelligan, rather astonished at +the formal preparations for smoking he now perceived brought forth, and +which at the time we tell of were not so popular as in our own day. + +The priest alone accepted Massingbred's offer of a “weed;” and Nelligan, +opening a door into an adjoining room where tea was laid, threw also +wide a little sash-door that led into the garden, whose cool and +fragrant air was perfectly delicious at the moment. Jack strolled down +the steps and soon lost himself in the dark alleys, not sorry to be left +alone with his own thoughts, after a scene in which his convivial powers +had been taxed to no mean extent. + +“A clever young fellow! There's stuff in him,” said the priest, in a +whisper to Nelligan. + +“And no impudence about him,” said Brierley; “he's just like one of +ourselves.” + +“He has a wonderful opinion of Joe!” said Nelligan. + +“He's the very man for my 'august leader,'” said Magennis. “I 'd like to +bring them together!” + +“His father 's a Treasury Lord,” said Nelligan, swelling at the thought +of his being the host of such company! + +“And I 'll tell you what, Dan Nelligan,” said the priest, +confidentially, “talents won't do everything, nowadays, without high +connections; mark my words, and see if that young man does n't stand +high yet. He has just got every requirement of success. He has good +family, good looks, good abilities, and”--here he dropped his voice +still lower--“plenty of brass. Ay, Dan, if Joe could borrow a little of +his friend's impudence, it would be telling him something.” + +Nelligan nodded assentingly; it was about the only quality in the world +which he could have believed Joe stood in any need of getting a loan of. + +“Joe beat him out of the field,” said Dan, proudly. “He told me so +himself, this morning.” + +“No doubt; and he would again, where the contest was a college one; but +'Life,' my dear friend,--life demands other gifts beside genius.” + +“Ganius!” broke in old Hayes, with an accent of the profoundest +contempt,--“Ganius! I never knew a 'Ganius' yet that was n't the ruin +of all belonging to him! And whenever I see a young fellow that knows no +trade, nor has any livelihood, who's always borrowing here and begging +there, a torment to his family and a burden to his friends, I set him +down at once for a 'Ganius.'” + +“It's not _that_ I was alluding to, Mr. Hayes,” said the priest, in +some irritation. “I spoke of real ability, sterling powers of mind and +thought, and I hope that they are not to be despised.” + +“Like my 'august leader's'!” said Magennis, proudly. + +“Ay, or like that young gentleman's there,” said Father Neal, with the +tone of a man pronouncing upon what he understood. “I watched him to-day +at dinner, and I saw that every remark he made was shrewd and acute, and +that whenever the subject was new to him, he fell into it as he went +on talking, picking up his facts while he seemed to be discussing them! +Take my word for it, gentlemen, he 'll do!” + +“He does n't know much about flax, anyhow,” muttered old Hayes. + +“He took his punch like a man,” said Brierley, bearing testimony on a +point where his evidence was sure to have weight. + +“He'll do!” said Father Neal once more, and still more authoritatively +than before. + +“Joe carried away every premium from him,” said old Nelligan, with a +degree of irritation that proclaimed how little he enjoyed the priest's +eulogy of his guest. + +“I know he did, sir; and no man has a higher respect for your son's +great abilities than myself; but here 's how it is, Mr. Nelligan,”--and +he drew himself up like a man about to deliver a profound +opinion,--“here 's how it is. The mind that can master abstract science +is one thing; the faculties that can deal with fellow-mortals is +another. This world is not a University!” + +“The Lord be praised for that same!” cried old Hayes, “or I 'm afraid I +'d fare badly in it.” + +“To unite both descriptions of talent,” resumed the priest, +oratorically, “is the gift of but few.” + +“My 'august leader' has them,” broke in Magennis. + +“Show me the man that can deal with men!” said Father Neal, +dictatorially. + +“Women is twice as hard to deal with!” cried old Hayes. “I 'll back +Nancy Drake against any man in the barony.” + +“Faith, and I remember her a pretty woman,” said Brierley, who would +gladly have enticed the conversation out of its graver character. +“A prettier girl than Mary Martin herself!” continued the inexorable +Brierley, for the company did not appear to approve of his diversion. + +“We are now discussing politics,--grave questions of state, sir,” said +Father Neal,--“for we have come to times when even the most indifferent +and insignificant amongst us cannot refrain feeling an interest in +the progress of our country. And when I see a fine young man like that +there, as one may say going a-begging for a party, I tell you that we +are fools--worse than fools--if we don't secure him.” + +“Do you mean for the borough?” asked Nelligan. + +“I do, sir,--I mean for the borough!” + +“Not till we have consulted my 'august leader,' I hope,” broke in +Magennis. + +“I'm for managing our own affairs ourselves,” said the priest. “What we +want is a man of our own; and if that young gentleman there will take +the pledges we should propose, I don't know that we'd readily get the +like of him.” + +The silence that now fell upon the party was ominous; it was plain that +either the priest's proposition was not fully acquiesced in, or that the +mode of announcing it was too abrupt. Perhaps this latter appeared the +case to his own eyes, for he was the first to speak. + +“Of course what I have said now is strictly among ourselves, and not to +be mentioned outside of this room; for until my friend Dan Nelligan +here consents to take the field against the Martin interest, there is +no chance of opening the borough. Let him once agree to _that_, and the +member for Oughterard will be his own nominee.” + +“Do you really think so?” asked Nelligan, eagerly. + +“I know it, sir; and every gentleman at this table knows it.” + +A strong chorus in assent murmured around the board. + +“It would be a great struggle,” muttered Nelligan. + +“And a great victory!” said the priest. + +“What a deal of money, too, it would cost!” + +“You have the money, Dan Nelligan; and let me tell you one thing,”--here +he leaned over his chair and whispered some words in the other's ear. + +Old Nelligan's face flushed as he listened, and his eyes sparkled with +intense excitement. + +“If I thought _that_--if I only thought that, Father Rafferty--I 'd +spend half my fortune on it to-morrow.” + +“It's as true as I'm a living man,” said the priest, solemnly; and then +with a motion of his hand gestured caution, for Massingbred was slowly +ascending the steps, and about to enter the room. + +With an instinctive readiness all his own, he saw in the embarrassed +and conscious looks around that he had himself been the object of their +discussion, and with the same shrewdness he detected their favorable +feeling towards him. + +“I have made them my own!” muttered he to himself. + +“He 'll do our work well!” said the priest in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. YOUNG NELLIGAN, AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WAYS. + +“I rather like that young Nelligan,” said Martin, the day after Joseph +had made his first appearance at dinner. “He talks pleasantly, and +nothing of a pedant, as I half dreaded he might be.” + +“I thought his manner respectful, and very proper for his station,” said +Lady Dorothea, with an air of dignity. + +“He spoke of politics, too, with less of prejudice, less of class +bitterness, than I could have expected.” + +“Some policy, perhaps, in that,” remarked her Ladyship. + +“Possibly!” said Martin, with a careless shrug of the shoulders. + +“He was in a measure on his trial amongst us, and felt the importance of +making a favorable first impression.” + +“It was more trouble than his father would have taken, then,” said +Martin, smiling. “Old Dan, as they call him, is not a very conciliating +personage.” + +“I cannot imagine that the disposition of such a person is a matter of +much moment. Does n't the man deal in tea, candles, and such like?” + +“That he does, and in loans, and in mortgages, too; not to add that +he exercises a very considerable share of influence in his town of +Oughterard.” + +“A very shocking feature of the time we live in!” exclaimed Lady +Dorothea. + +“So it may be; but there it is,--just like the wet weather, and the +typhus, and the sheep-rot, and fifty other disagreeable things one can't +help.” + +“But at least they can avoid recurring to them in conversation, sir. +There is no necessity to open the window when the look-out is a dreary +one.” + +Martin made no reply, and a pause of some moments ensued. + +“What arrangement did you come to with him about his party in the +borough?” said she at last. + +“I didn't even allude to the topic,” replied he, half testily. +“These things are not to be done in that hasty fashion; they require +management, discretion, and a fitting opportunity, too.” + +“Why, you talk of your grocer's boy as if he were a Cabinet Minister, +Mr. Martin; you treat him like a great diplomatist!” + +“It was not exactly on the first occasion of his being in my house that +I could have broached the matter.” + +“Which implies that you mean to invite him again.” + +“Possibly!” was the abrupt rejoinder. + +“And must the odious attorney always be of the party?” + +“No, madam, the odious attorney has set out for Dublin; but I shortly +expect here one whom your Ladyship will, doubtless, call an odious +lawyer,--though he happens to be one of the foremost men of the Irish +bar.” + +“A class I detest,” said her Ladyship. + +“He has one consolation, at least, madam,” said Martin; “he figures in a +pretty long category.” + +“And why should he not, sir? What have I ever met in the dreary +eighteen years and seven months I have passed here, except unmitigated +self-conceit, vulgarity, and presumption,--the very type of all three +being your Dublin barrister.” + +“Their countrymen certainly entertain another estimate of them,” said +Martin, laughing, for he had a lazy man's enjoyment of any passionate +excitement of another's temper. + +“And it was,” resumed she, “in some sort the contrast presented to such +which pleased me in that young man's manner yesterday. Not but I feel +assured that erelong you and Miss Martin will spoil him.” + +“I! aunt?” said Mary, looking up from her work; “how am I to exercise +the evil influence you speak of?” + +“By the notice--the interest you vouchsafe him, Miss Martin,--the most +flattering compliment to one in his station.” + +“If he bears collegiate honors so meekly, aunt,” said Mary, quietly, +“don't you think his head might sustain itself under _my_ attentions?” + +“Possibly so, young lady, if not accompanied by the accessories of +your rank in life,” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily; “and as to college +honors,” added she, after a pause, “they are like school distinctions, +of no earthly value out of the class-room.” + +“Faith, I don't know that,” said Martin. “At least, in my own +experience, I can say, every fellow that has made a figure in life gave +indications of high ability in his college years. I could go over the +names of at least a dozen.” + +“Pray don't, sir,--spare your memory, and spare us. Miss Martin and +I will take it for granted that this young man is destined to be Lord +Chancellor,--Ambassador at St. Petersburg,--or anything else you please. +I have no doubt that the time is approaching when such things are very +possible.” + +“It has come already, my Lady,” said Martin; and in the manner he +uttered the words there was no saying whether the sentiment was +pleasurable or the reverse. + +“And yet I trust that there is a little interval still left to us ere +that consummation,” said she, with pretentious dignity. “Birth and blood +have not lost all their _prestige!_” + +“But they soon would,” said Mary, “if they feared to enter the lists +against those less well-born than themselves.” + +“Miss Martin!” exclaimed her Ladyship, “what words are these?” + +“I hope they are void of offence, aunt. Assuredly I never conceived that +I could wound any susceptibilities here by saying that the well-born are +ready to meet the plebeian on any ground.” + +“There is no necessity for such trials, Miss Martin; the position of +each has been so accurately defined by--by--by Providence,” said she, at +last, blushing slightly as she uttered the word, “that the contest is +almost impossible.” + +“The French Revolution reveals another story, aunt, and tells us, +besides, how inferior were the nobles of that country in the day of +struggle.” + +“Upon my word, these are very pretty notions, young lady. Have they been +derived from the intelligent columns of the “Galway Monitor,” or are +they the teachings of the gifted Mr. Scanlan? Assuredly, Mr. Martin,” + said she, turning to him, “papa was right, when he said that the Irish +nature was essentially rebellious.” + +“Complimentary, certainly,” said Martin, laughing. + +“He founded the remark on history. Papa was uncommonly well read, +and used to observe that there seemed something in the Celtic nature +incompatible with that high-souled, chivalrous loyalty Englishmen +exhibit.” + +“But how much of the Celt have Mary and myself got in us, if your +observation is meant for us? Why, my Lady, what with intermarriage +centuries ago, and change of blood ever since, the distinctive element +has been utterly lost.” + +“And yet we are not English, uncle,” said Mary, with something that +smacked of pride. “Confess it: we have our nationality, and that our +people have traits of their own.” + +“That they have; but I never heard them made matter of boastfulness +before,” said Lady Dorothea, sneeringly. + +“Well, aunt, it is not too late to hear it now; and I, for one, am proud +of my country,--not of its political station, for it is dependent,--not +of its wealth, for it is poor,--but of its genial courtesy, its +free-hearted hospitality, its manly patience under many a crushing +calamity, and not least of all, its gallantry on every field where +England has won honor.” + +“I have read of all these things; but my own experiences are limited to +the rags and restlessness of a semi-barbarous people. Nay, Miss Martin, +I'm not going to discuss the matter. I have lived elsewhere,--you have +not. I have acquired habits--prejudices, perhaps you 'd call them--in +behalf of twenty things that Irish civilization sees no need of.” + +“Would it not be kind, aunt, were you to aid us by the light of these +same experiences?” said Mary, with an air of well-assumed humility. + +“Certainly not, at the price of intercourse with the natives!” exclaimed +her Ladyship, haughtily. “I detest, on principle, the Lady Bountiful +character. The whole of the hymn-book, castor-oil, and patent-barley +sympathy is shockingly vulgar. Like many things, well done at first, it +fell into low hands, and got spoiled.” + +The tone of sarcasm in which this was spoken made Mary's cheeks crimson, +and the flush spread itself over her neck. Still she made no reply, but +bending down her head, continued to work more assiduously. + +“When are we to leave this place, Mr. Martin?” asked her Ladyship, +abruptly. + +“I believe we are only waiting here till it be your pleasure to quit.” + +“And I dying to get away this fortnight past! Some one certainly told me +that Cro' Martin was not ready for us. Was it _you_, Miss Martin?” + +“No, aunt.” + +“It ran in my head it was you, then. Well, can we go at +once--to-day--this afternoon?” + +“To-morrow we might, perhaps,” said Mary. + +“Scarcely so,” said Martin, interposing, “seeing that I have asked +Repton to come down here and see the place.” + +“But you can drive him over from Cro' Martin. It would be intolerable, +the idea of remaining here just for him. So we shall go to-morrow, Miss +Martin.” And with this, uttered in the tone of an order, her Ladyship +swept proudly out of the room, from which Martin, not overanxious for a +_tête-à-tête_ with his niece, stepped noiselessly at the same moment by +another door. + +Scarcely had the door closed behind Lady Dorothea, when it was reopened +to admit Joe Nelligan, who had met her Ladyship in the corridor and been +received with such palpable coldness of manner that he entered the room +bashful and awkward, and hardly knowing whether to advance or retire. + +“I fear I have made my visit at an untimely hour, Miss Martin,” said he, +blushing; “but the truth is, I know next to nothing of society and its +habits, and if you would only be kind enough to tell me when I am a +transgressor--” + +“The notion of learning from _me_ is perfect,” said Mary, interrupting +him with a pleasant laugh. “Why, Mr. Nelli-gan, I never could be taught +anything, even of the most ordinary rules of ceremonial life! though,” + added she, slyly, “I have lived certainly in the midst of great +opportunities.” + +“But then, I have not,” said Nelligan, gravely, and accepting the speech +in all seriousness. “Well, it comes pretty much to the same thing,” said +she, smiling, “since I have profited so little by them.” + +“I came thus early, however,” said he, earnestly, “because I was +impatient to correct an impression which might have remained from +something that fell from me last night. You smile, I perceive,” said he, +“that I should attach so much importance to my own words!” + +“It was not at that I smiled,” said Mary, archly. + +“No matter,” continued he. “It is better, at the cost of a little +wounded vanity, that I should escape a misconception. When your +uncle spoke to me, last night, about the division of parties in the +borough--You are smiling again, Miss Martin!” + +“Don't you perceive, sir, that what amuses me is the mistaken estimate +you have formed of me, by addressing me on such topics?” + +“But I came here expressly to speak to you,” said he, with increased +eagerness; “for I have always heard--always understood--that none ever +took a deeper interest in all that regarded the country than yourself.” + +“If you mean, by the country, the lives and fortunes of those who live +in it,--the people by whose toil it is fertilized, by whose traits it is +a nation,--I tell you frankly that I yield to none for interest in all +that touches them; but if you come to talk of privileges and legislative +benefits, I know nothing of them: they form a land of whose very +geography I am ignorant.” + +“But the subject is the same, and the mind which comprehends one could +embrace the other.” + +“In the one, however, I can labor usefully and fittingly, without much +risk of mistake,--never, indeed, of any mistake that might prove of +serious moment. The other involves great questions, and has great +hazards, perils, to affright stronger heads than mine!” + +“There is much in what you say,” said he, reflectingly. + +“There is far more than I am able to express,” said she, warmly. “Just +remember, for a moment, that of all the laws you great and wise men +are making, over which you rant and wrangle, and assail each other +so vindictively, how few ever touch the interests or descend to the +fortunes of those for whom you assume to make them,--that the craftiest +devices of your legislation never uproot ah old prejudice nor disturb +an antiquated superstition; while I, and such as I,--and there need be +nothing more humble,--can by a little timely help in trouble--a little +care, or even a little counsel--comfort many a failing heart, cheer up +many a sinking spirit, and, better still, do good service by teaching +the poor man that he is of one family with those better off than +himself, and that he is not an outcast because he is lowly!” + +As Mary went on, her eyes shone more brilliantly, and her cheeks glowed, +till Nelligan forgot even the words she spoke in admiration of the +speaker. + +“But here comes my uncle,” cried she, hastily, “to rescue you from +further amplification of the theme. Come in, uncle,”--for Martin was +already about to retire,--“it is Mr. Nelligan, who wants to speak to +you.” + +“Oh, I was in terror of a regular morning visitor!” said Martin, shaking +the young man's hand cordially. “They didn't tell me you were here.” + +“I came, sir,” said Joseph, hesitatingly, “to rectify what might, +perhaps, require correction in an observation I made last night. We were +talking about the proper basis of a representation--” + +“My dear boy,” broke in Martin, laughingly, “there's nothing kills me +like asking me to go over the past, either in reading an old letter +or recalling an old conversation. And as to calling on me to justify +something I once defended in argument, I 'd give up the cause at once, +and say I was all wrong, in preference.” + +“Then I need not fear you will hold me responsible--” + +“Not for anything, except your pledge to dine here tomorrow at seven.” + +Notwithstanding all the ease and frankness of Martin's manner--and as +manner it was perfect--the young man felt far from satisfied. His want +of breeding--that cruel want strong enough to mar the promise of high +ability, and even impair the excellence of many a noble nature--seemed +to hold him fast bound to the object of his visit. He had come for +an explanation, and he couldn't go away without it. Mary read his +difficulty at once, and as she passed him to leave the room, said in a +low voice, “To-morrow evening.” + +Nelligan started at the words, and his face became scarlet. What +could she have meant? Was it that she wished him to come, and had thus +condescended to remind him of his promise? or was it to suggest a more +fitting moment to return to the late discussion? + +“Are you coming to luncheon, Nelligan?” said Martin, rising. + +“No, sir; not to-day. I have a call--a visit--some miles off.” And while +he was yet stammering out his excuses, Martin waved a familiar good-bye +with his hand, and passed into the adjoining room. + +“And what can this mean?” said Nelligan to himself. “Is this the cordial +treatment of an intimate, or is it contemptuous indifference for an +inferior?” And, far more puzzled than he should have been with the +knottiest problem of the “Principia,” he quitted the house and strolled +homewards. + +His way led along the shore, and consequently in front of that +straggling row of cottages which formed the village. It chanced to be +the last day of the month, and, by the decree of the almanac, the close +of the bathing-season. The scene then going forward was one of unusual +and not unpicturesque confusion. It was a general break-up of the +encampment, and all were preparing to depart to their homes, inland. Had +young Nelligan been--what he was not--anything of a humorist, he might +have been amused at the variety of equipage and costume around him. +Conveyances the most cumbrous and most rickety, drawn by farm horses, +or even donkeys, stopped the way before each door, all in process of +loading by a strangely attired assemblage, whose Welsh wigs, flannel +dressing-gowns, and woollen nightcaps showed how, by a common consent, +all had agreed to merge personal vanity in the emergency of the moment. +The innumerable little concealments which had sheltered many a narrow +household, the various little stratagems that had eked out many a scanty +wardrobe, were now abandoned with a noble sincerity; and had there been +a cork leg or a glass eye in the company, it would not have shrunk from +the gaze of that open-hearted community. + +Such of the travellers as had taken their places were already surrounded +with the strangest medley of household gods it is possible to conceive. +Like trophies, bird-cages, candlesticks, spits, cullenders, fenders, and +bread-baskets bristled around them, making one marvel how they ever got +in, or, still more, how they were ever to get out again; the croaking of +invalids, with crying children, barking terriers, and scolding owners, +making a suitable chorus to the confusion. + +Still, amidst all the discomforts of the moment, amidst the last +wranglings with landlords, and the last squabbles over broken furniture +and missing movables, it must be owned that the prevailing temper of the +scene was good-humor and jollity. The Irish temperament seems ever to +discover something congenial in those incidents of confusion and bustle +which to other people are seasons of unmitigated misery, and even out of +its own sources of discomfiture can derive matter for that quaint humor +with which it can always regard life. In this wise was it that few now +dwelt much upon their own inconveniences, so long as they were free to +laugh at those of their neighbors. + +Before he was well aware of it, young Nelligan found himself in the very +midst of this gathering, whose mirthful accents suddenly subsided at +his approach, and an air of constraint and reserve seemed to take their +place. Never very quick to appreciate such indications, he drew nigh +to a very lofty “conveniency” in which, with an air of stately +dignity, Mrs. Cronan sat enthroned on a backgammon-table, with a +portentous-looking cap-case in her lap. + +“My mother will be sorry not to have seen you before you went away, Mrs. +Cronan,” said he to that lady, whose demure and frigid demeanor made the +speech sound like a bold one. + +“I 'd have left my card and my compliments, sir, if I wasn't so pressed +for time,” responded she, with a haughty gravity. + +“With P. P. C. on the corner,” said the Captain from his pony-gig +alongside; “which means, pour prendre 'congo,' or 'congee,' I never +knew which.” + +“She 'll be very lonely now, for the few days we remain,” resumed Joe, +conscious of some awkwardness, without knowing where or how. + +“Not with the society of your distinguished acquaintances at 'The Nest,' +sir!” the sarcastic import of which reply was more in the manner than +the mere words; while the old Captain murmured,-- + +“Begad, she gave it to him there,--a regular double-headed shot!” + +“We hope to follow you by the end of the week,” said Nelligan, trying to +seem at ease. + +“If you can tear yourselves away, I suppose,” said Miss Busk, through +a double veil of blue gauze; for that lady's auburn ringlets reposed at +the moment in the small mahogany casket beside her. + +“There is not much attraction in the spot just now,” said Joseph, +smiling. + +“Not for the like of us, perhaps, sir,” retorted Mrs. Cronan,--“not for +persons in our station; but your fashionable people, I believe, always +prefer a place when the vulgar company have left it.” + +“Good again,--grape and canister!” chuckled out the Captain, who seemed +to derive a high enjoyment from the scene. + +“Would you move a little to one side, Mr. Nelligan?” said the doctor; +“my pony won't stand.” + +“Oh, he's mettlesome,” said Joe, good-humoredly, as he stepped out of +the way. + +“That he is, sir, though he never was leader in a four-in-hand; but, you +see, poor creatures of quadrupeds forget themselves down here, just like +their betters!” + +And the success of this sally was acknowledged by a general laugh from +the company. The tone of the speakers, even more than their words, +convinced Joseph that, from some cause or other, he was the object of +their sarcasms; and although slow to take offence,--even to the verge of +what many might have called an unfeeling indifference,--he felt their +treatment most acutely. It was, then, in something like a haughty +defiance that he wished them a careless good-bye, and continued his way. + +“The world seems bent on puzzling me this morning,” muttered he, as he +sauntered slowly on. “People treat me as though I were playing some deep +game to their detriment,--I, who have no game, almost no future!” added +he, despondingly. “For what avails it to attain eminence amidst such as +these; and, as for the others, I was not born for them.” + +To these moody thoughts succeeded others still gloomier. It had only +been within a short time back that the young man had begun to appreciate +the difficulties of a position to which his early successes imparted +increasing embarrassment; and darkly brooding over these things, he drew +near his mother's cottage. She was already at the door to meet him, with +a letter in her hand. + +“This is from your father, Joe,” said she. “He wants you in all haste +up at the town; and I've packed your clothes, and sent off Patsey for +Mooney's car; so come in and eat something at once.” + +Joseph took the note from her hand and perused it in silence. It was +brief, and ran thus:-- + + “Dear Joe,--I want you up here as soon as possible, to meet + a friend whom you 'll be surprised to see. I say no more, + but that I expect you by dinner-time.--Yours ever, + + “D.N.” + +“What does that mean, Joe?” asked his mother. + +He only shrugged his shoulders in reply. + +“And who can it be?” said she again. + +“Some of the townspeople, of course,” said he, carelessly. + +“No, no, Joe; it must be a stranger. Maybe it's Morgan Drake; his aunt +expected him back from Jamaica before Christmas. Or it 's Corny Dwyer 's +come home from Africa; you know he went on the deploring expedition--” + “Exploring, mother,--exploring.” + +“Well, exploring or deploring, it's all the same. He went four years +ago, and all the tidings they 've had of him was an elephant's tooth he +sent home to his stepfather. I know it's Corny, for your father always +liked him and the funny stories he told.” + +“Perhaps so!” replied Joe. + +“I wonder, is he grown any bigger? He was little better than a dwarf +when he went away, and the same age as yourself. No, indeed, he was +older,--fourteen months older. It was Catty Henderson was running in my +head. Is n't she a fine young woman, Joe?” + +“Remarkably so,” said he, with more animation in his tone. + +“A little bit too haughty-looking and proud, maybe, considering her +station in life, and that she has to go to service--” + +“Go to service, mother?” + +“To be sure she has. If they can't get her a place as a governess or a +companion, she 'll have to take what she can get. Her father's married +again, my dear Joe; and when men do that!” And here Mrs. Nelligan +uplifted her hands and eyes most expressively. “Ay, indeed,” continued +she, with a heavy sigh, “and if it was once it was fifty times, Catty's +poor mother said to me, 'Sarah,' says she,--she never called me Sally, +but always Sarah,--'Sarah,' says she, 'I 've but one comfort, and that +is that Catty will never want a mother while you live. You 'll be the +same to her as myself,--just as fond, and just as forgiving;' them was +her very words!” + +“And I hope you have never forgotten them, mother?” said Joe, with +emotion. + +“Don't you see I have n't; an't I repeating them to you this minute?” + +“Yes; but I mean the spirit and the meaning of them,” rejoined he, “and +that you feel the obligation they 've laid upon you.” + +“To be sure I feel it; don't I fret over it every time I 'm alone? for I +can't get it out of my head that maybe she 'd appear to me--” + +“No, but her mother. Oh, it 's nothing to laugh at, Joe. There was Eliza +Keane came back every Easter Monday for two-and-twenty years to search +for a gravy-spoon. Well, if it's laughing you are, I won't say any more; +but here 's the car now, and it's late enough we 'll be on the road!” + +“I'm not thinking of going, mother. I never meant to go,” said Joe, +resolutely. + +“Never meant to go, after your father's note to you, Joe?” cried she, in +half horror. “Surely it's all as one as ordering you up there.” + +“I know all that,” said he, calmly; “but I see no reason why I should +forego the pleasure of a party at the Martins' for the sake of meeting +the convivial celebrities of Oughterard.” + +“But what will you say?” + +“Say I'm engaged; have accepted another invitation; or, better still, +leave you to make my excuses, mother. Come, come, don't look so +terribly shocked and terrified. You know well enough that my father's +four-year-old mutton and his crusted port will compensate the company +for heavier inflictions than my absence.” + +“They were always fond of you, Joe,” said Mrs. Nelligan, half +reproachfully. + +“Nothing of the kind, mother; they never cared for me, nor was there any +reason why they should. I 'm sure I never cared for them. We endured one +another; that was all.” + +“Oh, dear; but I 'm glad your father is not listening to you,” said +she, with a stealthy glance around, as though not perfectly assured +of secrecy. “So, then, I suppose, there 's nothing for it but to go up +myself and make the best of it; and sure it's all a lottery what temper +he 's in, and how he 'll take it. I remember when they put the new duty +on--what was it, Joe? I think it was hides--” + +“Not the least matter, mother; you 've only to say that Mr. Martin +has been kind enough to show me some attentions, and that I am silly +enough--if you like to say so--to prefer them to the festive pleasures +of Oughterard. In another week or so I shall have to go back to college. +Let me, at least, enjoy the few days of my vacation in my own fashion.” + +Mrs. Nelligan shook her head mournfully over these signs of rebellion, +and muttering many a gloomy foreboding, she went off to her room to make +her preparations for the journey. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. A VERY “CROSS EXAMINATION” + +The morning was bright and sunny, the air sharp, crisp, and bracing, +as the heavy travelling-carriage which conveyed Mr. Martin and Lady +Dorothea rolled smoothly along the trimly kept approach to Cro' Martin. +Many a beautiful glade, many a lovely vista opened on them as they +passed along deep-bosomed woods and gently swelling slopes, dotted over +with cattle, stretched away on either side; while far in the distance +could be seen the battlemented towers of the princely residence. + +The lover of nature might have felt intense pleasure at a scene so +abounding in objects of beauty. A painter would have lingered with +delight over effects of light and shade, glorious displays of color, and +graceful groupings of rocks and trees and gnarled stumps. A proud man +might have exulted in the selfish enjoyment of feeling that these were +all his own; while a benevolent one would have revelled in the thought +of all the channels through which such wealth might carry the blessings +of aid and charity. + +Which of these feelings predominated now in the minds of those who, +snugly encased in furs, occupied the respective corners of the +ample coach? Shall we own it? Not any of them. A dreamy, unremarking +indifference was the sentiment of each; and they sat silently gazing +on a prospect which suggested nothing, nor awoke one passing emotion in +their hearts. Had any one been there to express his admiration of the +landscape,--praised the trees, the cattle, or the grassy slopes,--Martin +might have heard him with pleasure, and listened even with interest to +his description. My Lady, too, might not unwillingly have lent an ear +to some flattery of the splendid demesne of which she was mistress, +and accepted as half homage the eulogy of what was hers. None such was, +however, there; and so they journeyed along, as seemingly unconscious as +though the scene were wrapped in midnight darkness. + +Martin had known the spot, and every detail of it, from his boyhood. The +timber, indeed, had greatly grown,--graceful saplings had become stately +trees, and feathery foliage deepened into leafy shade; but he himself +had grown older, too, and his sense of enjoyment, dulled and deadened +with years, saw nothing in the scene to awaken pleasure. As for Lady +Dorothea, she had reasoned herself into the notion that the walls of her +own grounds were the boundaries of a prison, and had long convinced +herself that she was a suffering martyr to some mysterious sense of +duty. From the drowsy languor in which they reclined they were both +aroused, as the pace of the carriage gradually diminished from a smooth +brisk trot to an uneven jolting motion, the very reverse of agreeable. + +“What have they done? Where are they going?” said Lady Dorothea, +peevishly. + +And Martin called out from the window, in tones even less gentle. “Oh, +it's the new approach; the road is not quite completed,” said he, half +sulkily, as he resumed his place. + +“Another of Miss Martin's clever devices, which, I must say, I never +concurred in.” + +“Why, you always professed to hate the old road by the stables.” + +“So I did; but I never agreed to passing round the back of the house, +and thus destroying the privacy of the flower-garden,--the only spot I +may dare to call my own. Oh, dear! I shall be shaken to death. Have +they broken the carriage? I 'm certain they 've smashed the spring at my +side!” + +Martin gave a cold, supercilious smile, the only reply to these words. + +“They 've only broken a trace, I perceive,” said he, casting a hurried +glance through the window, as the carriage came to a dead stop. + +“You are equanimity itself, sir, this morning,” said her Ladyship, in +a voice almost tremulous with anger. “I wonder if this admirable temper +will befriend you when you shall see the cost of this precious piece of +road-making?” + +“It employs the people,” said he, coolly. + +“Employs the people! How I hate that cant phrase! Can't they employ +themselves on their own farms? Have n't they digging and draining, and +whatever it is, to do of their own? Must they of necessity depend on +us for support, and require that we should institute useless works to +employ them?” + +As if to offer a living commentary on her speech, a number of half-fed +and less than half-clad men now drew near, and in accents of a most +servile entreaty begged to offer their services. Some, indeed, had +already busied themselves to repair the broken harness, and others +were levelling the road, carrying stones to fill up holes, and in +every possible manner endeavoring to render assistance; but all were +vociferous in asserting that the delay would not be above a minute or +two; that the road was an elegant one, or would be soon, and that it was +a “raal blessing” to see her Ladyship and the master looking so well. In +fact, they were thankful and hopeful together; and, notwithstanding the +evidences of the deepest destitution in their appearance, they wore an +air of easy, jaunty politeness, such as many a professional diner-out +might have envied. Lady Dorothea was in no mood to appreciate such +traits; indeed, if the truth must be told, they rather ruffled than +soothed her. Martin saw nothing in them; he was too much accustomed to +the people to be struck with any of their peculiarities, and so he lay +back in silent apathy, and took no notice of them. + +With all their alacrity and all their good-will--and there was no lack +of either--there was yet such a total absence of all system and order, +that their efforts were utterly useless. Some tugged away manfully +to raise stones too heavy to lift; others came rudely in contact with +fellows heavily laden, and upset them. The sturdy arms that spoked the +hind wheels were resolutely antagonized by as vigorous struggles to move +the fore ones. Every one shouted, cried, cursed, and laughed, by turns; +and a more hopeless scene of confusion and uproar need not be conceived. +Nor was Lady Dorothea herself an inactive spectator; for, with her head +from the carriage-window, she directed a hundred impossible measures, +and sat down at last, overcome with rage and mortification at their +blunders. + +The tumult was now at the highest, and the horses, terrified by the +noise around them, had commenced plunging and rearing fearfully, when +Mary Martin came galloping up to the spot at full speed. + +“Let go that bridle, Hogan,” cried she, aloud; “you are driving that +horse mad. Loose the leaders' traces; unbuckle the reins, Patsey; the +wheelers will stand quietly. There, lead them away. Speak to that mare; +she 's trembling with fear. I told you not to come by this road, Barney; +and it was only by accident that I saw the wheel-tracks. A thousand +pardons, Aunt Dora, for this mishap. Barney misunderstood my orders. It +will be all right in a moment. Once over this bad spot, the road is hard +and level.” + +“Having no taste, nor any genius for adventures, Miss Martin,” began +her Ladyship--But Mary did not await the remainder of the speech; for, +turning her horse sharply round, and beckoning to some of the people +to follow her, she was away across the lawn at a smart canter. Having +arrived at a small wooden bridge over a river, she ordered the men to +lift some of the planking, by the aid of which they soon constructed +a firm and safe passage for the carriage; and as her presence was the +signal for quiet obedience and prompt action, in less than ten minutes +the difficulty was surmounted, the horses reharnessed, and all in +readiness to proceed on their way. + +Martin looked on in silent satisfaction, not offering a single +suggestion, or even seeming to feel interested in the events, but +enjoying, with all a lazy man's pleasure, the activity displayed around +him. Not so Lady Dorothea. If she did not like “an adventure,” she +loved “a grievance.” Whatever ministered to her selfishness, even in the +remotest degree, was grateful to her. Mary's opportune arrival had now +converted what might have passed for a calamity into a mere momentary +inconvenience; and she could not conceal her discontent. “Your heroines +are a perfect torment; at least, to us souls of commoner clay. They live +only for disasters.” + +“I must say that Mary extricated us from what might have become one,” + said Martin, dryly. + +“We are indebted to her, however, for the possibility. This detestable +road, which I promise you I 'll never come again, is entirely her own +invention. I hope, Miss Martin,” added she, from the window, “that the +other approach is to be kept in repair,--at least, for me.” But Mary +did not hear the appeal, for she was bandaging the arm of a poor country +fellow, who had been sorely cut. + +“There, drive on, Barney,” cried Lady Dorothea. “I shall be taken ill +if I stay here. Really, Mr. Martin, your niece's accomplishments are +the least feminine one can conceive.” And improving this theme, she +continued the entire way till the carriage drew up at the door of the +castle. + +“Yes, sir,” said she, as she descended, “that heavy sigh shows you are +indeed greatly to be pitied. No martyrdom ever exceeded yours. I am +quite aware of all my imperfections, and can at least fancy everything +you could say of me and my temper. What did you say, Collins?” said she, +addressing the obsequious-looking servant, who, with an air of gloomy +joy, very respectful,--but meant to mean more,--had whispered something +in her ear. + +“A young lady, did you say, Collins?” + +“Yes, my Lady.” + +“Then you were very wrong, Collins. You meant to say a young person.” + +“Yes, my Lady,--a young person, like a lady.” + +“Not in the least, except to such appreciation as yours. Where is she?” + +“In your Ladyship's library.” + +“Did she come alone?” + +“No, my Lady. Mr. Henderson drove her over in his car, and said he 'd +pass this way again in the evening.” + +And now her Ladyship swept proudly by, scarcely noticing the bowing +servants who had formed into a line along the hall, and who endeavored +to throw into their sorrowful faces as much of joy as might consist with +the very deepest humility. Nor was she more condescending to old Catty, +who stood courtesying at the top of the stairs, with a basket of keys on +her arm that might have served to lock up all Newgate. + +“How cold every place feels! Collins, are you sure the rooms are +properly aired?” cried she, shuddering. “But I suppose it's the climate. +Have another stove put there,” said she, pointing to an impossible +locality. + +“Yes, my Lady,” replied Collins. + +“And warmer carpets on these passages.” + +“Yes, my Lady; it shall be done to-morrow.” + +“No, sir; to-day.” + +“Yes, my Lady; this afternoon.” + +“I don't remember if the windows are double along here.” + +“Yes, my Lady, they are all double towards the north.” + +“Then they fit badly, for I feel the draught acutely here. It's like the +keen air of a mountain;” and Collins gave a slight sympathetic shudder, +and really looked cold. A somewhat haughty glance from her Ladyship, +however, as quickly reproved him, for Collins ought to have known +that it was not by such as himself changes of temperature could be +appreciable. And now she passed on and entered that part of the +mansion peculiarly her own, and where, it must be owned, her spirit of +fault-finding would have been at a loss what to condemn. + +Lady Dorothea's library occupied an angle of the building; and from this +circumstance, included within its precincts an octagonal tower, the view +from which comprised every varied character of landscape. This favored +spot was fitted up in the most luxurious taste,--with rarest gems of +art, and cabinet pictures of almost fabulous value,--to supply +which foreign dealers and connoisseurs had been for years back in +correspondence with her Ladyship. Now it was some rare treasure of +carved ivory, or some sculptured cup of Benvenuto, that had been +discovered accidentally, and which, despite the emulous zeal of princes +and cardinals to obtain, was destined for herself. Now it was some +choice mosaic of which but one other specimen existed, and that in the +Pope's private collection at the Quirinal. Such was her ardor in this +pursuit of excellence, that more than once had every object of this +precious chamber been changed, to give place to something more costly, +more precious, and rarer. For about two years back, however, the +resources of the old world seemed to offer nothing worthy of attention, +and the vases, the “statuettes,” the bronzes, the pictures, and +medallions had held their ground undisturbed. + +Such was the sanctity of this spot, that in showing the house to +strangers it was never opened, nor, without a special order from Lady +Dorothea,--a favor somewhat more difficult to obtain than a firman from +the Sultan,--could any one be admitted within its walls. The trusty +servant in whose charge it was, was actually invested with a species of +sacred character in the household, as one whose feet had passed the +threshold of the tabernacle. Our reader may then picture to himself +something of Lady Dorothea's varied sensations--for, indeed, they were +most mingled--as she heard a slight cough from within the chamber, and, +drawing nearer, perceived a female figure seated in front of one of the +windows, calmly regarding the landscape. + +With a degree of noise and bustle sufficient to announce her approach, +Lady Dorothea entered the tower; while the stranger, rising, retired one +step, and courtesied very deeply. There was in all the humility of the +obeisance a certain degree of graceful dignity that certainly struck +her Ladyship; and her haughty look and haughtier tone were some little +modified as she asked by what accident she found her there. + +“My intrusion was a pure accident, my Lady,” replied the other, in a +low, soft voice; “mistaking the door by which I had entered a room, I +wandered on through one after another until I found myself here. I beg +your Ladyship to believe that nothing was further from my thoughts than +to obtrude upon your privacy.” + +“Your name?” began her Ladyship; and then, as suddenly correcting +herself, she said, “You are Miss Henderson, I suppose?” + +“Yes, my Lady,” she replied, with a slight bend of the head. + +“I sent for you,” said Lady Dorothea, in a half-careless tone, while she +turned over some books on the table, as if in search of something,--“I +sent for you, partly at the request of your mother--” + +“My stepmother, my Lady,” interposed the girl, calmly. + +Lady Dorothea stared at her for a second or two, as though to say, how +had she dared to correct her; but either that the reproof had not met +its full success, or that she did not care to pursue it, she added, “At +the request of your friends, and partly out of curiosity.” And here +Lady Dorothea raised her glass to her eye, and quietly surveyed her,--an +examination which, it must be owned, none could have borne with more +unshaken fortitude; not the slightest tremor of a limb, not the faintest +change of color betokening that the ordeal was a painful one. + +“I do see that you have been educated in France,” said her Ladyship, +with a smile of most supercilious import, while a courtesy from the +young girl admitted the fact. + +“Were you brought up in Paris?” asked she, after a pause. + +“For four years, my Lady.” + +“And the remainder of the time, where was it passed?” + +“We travelled a great deal, my Lady, in Germany and Italy.” + +“'We,'--who were the 'we' you speak of? Please to bear in mind that I +know nothing of your history.” + +“I forgot that, my Lady. I thought my stepmother had, perhaps, informed +your Ladyship.” + +“Of nothing whatever, child,” said she, haughtily, “save of your having +a foreign education, and wishing, or hoping, to find some engagement +as a governess or a teacher;” and the last words were drawled out +languidly, as though they were suggestive of all that was wearisome and +a bore. “So you must be good enough to explain who 'we' were.” + +“The Duchesse de Luygnes and her family, my Lady.” + +“You travelled with them; and in what capacity, pray?” + +“I was called companion to the Princesse de Courcelles, the eldest +daughter of the Duchess, my Lady.” + +“Companion!--why, you must have been a mere child at the time?” + +“A mere child, my Lady; but they took me from the Pensionnat, to speak +English with the young Princess.” + +“And then they took the charge of your education, I conclude?” + +“Yes, my Lady.” + +“And to what extent--or rather, in what direction; I mean, what object +had they in view in choosing your studies?” + +“They gave me the same masters as to the young Princess, my Lady; and I +was instructed in all respects as she was.” + +“And treated like her also, I conclude?” said Lady Dorothea, with a +sneering smile. + +“Madame la Duchesse was ever most kind to me,” said the girl, half +proudly. + +“Kind--yes, of course--kind, if you conducted yourself properly and to +her satisfaction. A person of her condition would be kind; but I trust +this did not proceed so far as to spoil you? I hope it never made you +forget your station?” + +“I trust it did not, my Lady.” + +“With what part of the establishment did you live? Where did you dine?” + +“With the Princess, my Lady; except on _fête_ days, when we were invited +to the table of the Duchess.” + +“I never heard of anything more absurd,--outrageously absurd. Why, are +you aware, young woman, that these same friends of yours have done you +irreparable mischief? They have, so to say, ruined your entire future; +for how can I, and others in my station, avail myself of your services, +with such habits and expectations as these?” + +“Certainly not expectations, my Lady. I never did or can expect such +condescension from another.” + +“No matter; your head is filled with ideas unbefitting your condition, +usages, habits, associations, all foreign to a menial station. You +have been admitted to privileges the want of which would be felt as +hardships. In fact, as I said before, they have done you irreparable +injury. You must feel it yourself.” + +A very faint smile, half in deprecation of the appeal, was the only +reply of the young girl. + +“You are certain to feel it later on in life, if you are not sensible of +it at present, that I can vouch for, young woman,” said Lady Dorothea, +with all the firmness with which she could utter an unpleasant speech. +“Nothing but unhappiness ever resulted from such ill-judged indulgence. +Indeed, if your mother had mentioned the circumstances, I scarcely think +I should have sent for you”--she paused to see if any strong signs of +contrite sorrow displayed themselves in the young girl's features; none +such were there, and Lady Dorothea more sternly added,--“I may safely +say, I never should have asked to see you.” + +When a speech meant to be severe has failed to inflict the pain it was +intended to produce, it invariably recoils with redoubled power upon him +who uttered it; and so Lady Dorothea now felt all the pang of her +own ungenerous sentiment. With an effort to shake off this unpleasant +sensation, she resumed,-- + +“I might go further, and observe that unless you yourself became +thoroughly penetrated with the fact, you must always prove very +unsuitable to the station you are destined to occupy in life. Do you +understand me?” + +“I believe I do, my Lady,” was the calm reply. + +“And also,” resumed she, still more dictatorially--“and also, that +acquiring this knowledge by yourself will be less painful to your +feelings than if impressed upon you by others. Do you fully apprehend +me?” + +“I think so, my Lady.” + +Now, although the tone and manner of the young girl were unexceptionable +in all that regards deference and respect, Lady Dorothea was not a +little provoked at her unbroken composure. There was no confusion, not +even a semblance of constraint about her. She replied to even sarcastic +questions without the faintest shadow of irritation, and exhibited +throughout the most perfect quietude and good breeding. Had the “young +person” been overwhelmed with shame, or betrayed into any access of +temper, her Ladyship's manner would have presented a pattern of haughty +dignity and gracefulness, and her rebukes would have been delivered in +a tone of queen-like superiority; but Miss Henderson afforded no +opportunity for these great qualities. She was deference itself; but +deference so self-possessed, so assured of its own safeguard, as to be +positively provoking. + +“Under all these circumstances, therefore,” resumed Lady Dorothea, as if +having revolved mighty thoughts within her mind, “it appears to me you +would not suit me.” + +But even this speech failed to call up one trait of disappointment, and +the young girl received it with only a deep courtesy. + +“I'm sorry for it,” continued my Lady, “on your mother's account; your +education has of course cost her and your father many sacrifices, which +your duty requires you to repay.” She paused, as if asking for some +assent to this speech. + +Another deep courtesy was the reply. + +“There, that will do,” said Lady Dorothea, angrily; for any attempt to +provoke seemed an utter failure. “I think I have nothing more to +say. When I shall see your mother I can explain more fully to her. +Good-morning.” + +“I wish your Ladyship good-morning,” said the girl, with a deep +obeisance, and in a voice of perfect deference, while she retired +towards the door. Before she had reached it, however, Lady Dorothea +again addressed her. + +“You forgot, I think, to tell me why you left the Duchesse de Luygnes?” + +“I left on the marriage of the Princess, my Lady.” + +“Oh, I remember; she married a Russian, I think.” + +“No, my Lady; she married the Duc de Mirecourt, French Ambassador at St. +Petersburg.” + +“Ah, to be sure. I knew there was something Russian about it. And so +they sent you away then?” + +“The Duchess most kindly invited me to accompany her, my Lady, but my +father desired I should return to Ireland.” + +“And very properly,” said Lady Dorothea; “he took a most just view of +the case; your position would only have exposed you to great perils. I'm +sure you are not of my opinion, for distrust of yourself does not appear +one of your failings.”--It is possible that this ungenerous remark was +evoked by a very slight curl of the young girl's lip, and which, faint +as it was, did not escape her Ladyship's keen glances.--“Good-morning.” + +Again had Miss Henderson gained the door; her hand was already on the +lock, when her Ladyship called out: “In the event of anything occurring +to me likely to suit you, I ought to know what you can teach; and mind, +don't bore me with a mere catalogue of hard names, but say what you +really know.” + +“Some modern languages, my Lady, with music.” + +“No Greek or Latin?” said Lady Dorothea, half sneer-ingly. + +“Latin, perhaps; but though I can read some Greek, I could not venture +to teach it.” + +“Nor Hebrew?” + +“No, my Lady.” + +“And the modern tongues,--which of them do you profess to know?” + +“French, Italian, Spanish, and German.” + +“And don't you draw?--they showed me what they called yours.” + +“Yes, my Lady, but I cannot teach drawing.” + +“And of course you are thoroughly versed in history. Have you studied +any scientific subjects?--mathematics, for instance.” + +“Only a few of the French initial books, my Lady.” + +“Why, you are quite an Admirable Crichton for acquirement. I feel really +abashed to find myself in such company.” But even this coarse speech +failed to irritate, and Lady Dorothea walked angrily towards the window +and looked out. + +It so chanced that, through an opening of the wood, she caught sight +of a large assemblage of workpeople, who, headed by Miss Martin on +horseback, were on their way to the quarries; and as she looked, a +sudden thought flashed across her: “Why not retain the 'young person' as +a companion for her niece? How admirably would all this girl's +knowledge contrast with Mary's ignorance! What an unceasing source of +disparagement would their contact afford, at the very moment that +the arrangement might seem dictated by the very best and highest of +motives.” + +It may doubtless appear to many, that the individual who could reason +thus must be animated by a most corrupt and depraved nature, but +unhappily the spiteful element in the human heart is one which never +measures its modes of attack, but suffers itself to be led on, from acts +of mere petty malice to actions of downright baseness and badness. Lady +Dorothea was not devoid of good traits, but once involved in a pursuit, +she totally forgot the object which originally suggested it, but engaged +all her zeal and all her ardor for success. She would have been shocked +at the bare possibility of actually injuring her niece; she would have +resented with indignation the mere mention of such; but yet she would +have eagerly grasped at whatever afforded a chance of dominating over +her. Mary's influence in the household--her rule over the peasantry of +the estate--was a perpetual source of annoyance to her Ladyship, and yet +she never knew how to thwart it, till now that chance seemed to offer +this means. + +“You need not go back just yet: I 'll speak to Mr. Martin about you,” + said she, turning towards Miss Henderson; and, with a respectful +courtesy, the girl withdrew, leaving her Ladyship to her own somewhat +complicated reflections. + +In less than half an hour after Lady Dorothea proceeded to Mr. Martin's +study, where a cabinet council was held, the substance of which our +reader can readily conceive; nor need he have any doubts as to the +decision, when we say that Lady Dorothea retired to her own room with a +look of satisfaction so palpably displayed that Mademoiselle Hortense, +her maid, remarked to herself, “Somebody or other was sure to pass a +_mauvais quart d'heure_ when _miladi_ goes to her room with an air of +such triumphant meaning as that.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. “A HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM” + +Cro' Martin was replete with every comfort and luxury. All its +arrangements betokened wealth; not a single appliance of ease or +enjoyment but was to be found within its well-ordered walls; and yet +there was one want which seemed to mar all, and infuse a sense of almost +dreary coldness over everything, and this was--the absence of a numerous +family, the assemblage of various ages, which gives to a home its +peculiar interest, embodying the hopes and fears and passions and +motives of manhood, in every stage of existence, making up that little +world within doors which emblematizes the great one without; but, with +this singular advantage, of its being bound up in one holy sentiment of +mutual love and affection. + +This charm is it which gives the whole vitality to home,--this mingling +of the temperaments of youth and manhood and deep age, blending hopes +of the future with memories of the past, and making of every heart +a portion of one human biography, in which many are sharers. To the +stranger, who came to see the house and its gorgeous decorations, +all seemed suggestive of habitable enjoyment. The vast drawing-rooms +appeared as if only waiting for a splendid company; the dark wainscoted +dining-room, with its noble fireplace of gigantic dimensions, looked the +very scene where hospitable conviviality might be enacted; the library, +calm, quiet, and secluded, seemed a spot wherein a student might have +passed a life long. Even in the views that presented themselves at the +several windows, there was a certain appropriateness to the character of +the room, and the same importunate question still arose to one's mind: +Who is there to enjoy all this? What words of glad welcome echo through +this vaulted hall, what happy daughter sings through these gilded +chambers, where is the social pleasantry that circles the blazing fire +of the ample hearth? Alas! all was sombre, splendid, and dreary. No, +we are wrong!--not all! There was one corner of this great house where +cheerfulness was the very type of comfort. It was a small and not lofty +room, whose two windows projected beyond the walls, giving a wide view +over the swelling landscape for miles of space. Here the furniture was +of the most ordinary kind, but scrupulously neat and well kept. The +chairs--there were but four of them--all with arms and deep cushions; +the walnut table a perfect mirror of polish; the cloth curtains, +that closed the windows and concealed the door, massive and +heavy-folded,--all breathed of snugness; while the screen that +surrounded the fire had other perfections than those of comfortable +seclusion, containing a most strange collection of the caricatures of +the time, and the period before the Union. It is but necessary to add +that this was Mrs. Broon's apartment,--the snug chamber where old Catty +enjoyed herself, after the fatigues and duties of the day. Here now +she sat at tea, beside a cheerful fire, the hissing kettle on the hob +harmonizing pleasantly with the happy purring of an enormous cat, who +sat winking at the blaze; and while evidently inconvenienced by the +heat, lacking energy to retreat from it. Catty had just obtained the +newspaper,--as the master had gone to dinner,--and was really about to +enjoy a comfortable evening. Far from devoid of social qualities, or a +liking for companionship, she still lived almost entirely to herself, +the other servants being chiefly English, whose habits and ways were all +strange to her, and all whose associations were widely different from +her own. Catty Broon had thus obtained a reputation for unsociability +which she by no means deserved, but to which, it must be owned, she +was totally indifferent. In fact, if _they_ deemed _her_ morose and +disagreeable, _she_, in turn, held _them_ still more cheaply, calling +them a set of lazy devils that “were only in each other's way,” and +“half of them not worth their salt.” + +Catty had also survived her generation; all her friends of former +years had either died or emigrated, and except two or three of the +farm-servants, none of the “ould stock,” as she called them, were in +existence. This brief explanation will show that Catty's comparative +isolation was not entirely a matter of choice. If a sense of loneliness +did now and then cross her mind, she never suffered it to dwell there, +but chased away the unpleasant thought by some active duty; or if +the season of that were over, by the amusing columns of the +“Intelligence,”--a journal which realized to Mrs. Broon's conceptions +the very highest order of literary merit. + +Catty did not take much interest in politics; she had a vague, dreamy +kind of notion that the game of party was a kind of disreputable +gambling, and Parliament itself little better than a “Hell,” frequented +by very indifferent company. Indeed, she often said it would be “well +for us if there was no politics, and maybe then, there would be no taxes +either.” The news she liked was the price of farming-stock at fairs and +markets,--what Mr. Hynes got for his “top lot” of hoggets, and what Tom +Healey paid for the “finest heifers ever seen on the fair-green.” + These, and the accidents--a deeply interesting column--were her peculiar +tastes; and her memory was stored with every casualty, by sea, fire, and +violence, that had graced the “Intelligence” for forty years back; in +truth they formed the stations of her chronology, and she would refer +to events as having occurred the same year that Joe Ryan was hanged, or +“the very Christmas that Hogan fired at Captain Crossley.” An inundation +of great extent also figured in these memorabilia, and was constantly +referred to, by her saying, “This or that happened the year after the +Flood,” suggesting a rather startling impression as to her longevity. + +On the evening we now refer to, the newspaper was more than commonly +adorned with these incidents. Public news having failed, private +calamities were invoked to supply the place. Catty was, therefore, +fortunate. There was something, too, not altogether unpleasant in the +whistling storm that raged without, and the heavy plashing of the rain +as it beat upon the window-panes. Without imputing to her, as would be +most unjust, the slightest touch of ill-nature, she felt a heightened +sense of her own snugness as she drew closer to the bright hearth, while +she read of “a dreadful gale in the Bay of Biscay.” + +It was just in the most exciting portion of the description that her +door was rudely opened, and the heavy curtain dashed aside with a daring +hand; and Catty, startled by the sudden interruption, called angrily +out,-- + +“Who's there?--who are ye at all?” + +“Can't you guess, Catty?” cried out a pleasant voice. “Don't you know +that there's only one in this house here who 'd dare to enter in such a +fashion?” + +“Oh, Miss Mary, is it you? And, blessed Virgin, what a state ye 're +in!” cried she, as she gazed at the young girl, who, throwing away her +riding-hat, wrung out the rain from her long and silky hair, while she +laughed merrily at old Catty's dismayed countenance. + +“Why, where in the world were you--what happened you, darling?” said +Catty, as she assisted her to remove the dripping costume. + +“I was at the Wood, Catty, and up to the quarries, and round by +Cronebawn, and then, seeing a storm gathering, I thought I 'd turn +homeward, but one of Kit Sullivan's children--my little godchild, you +know--detained me to hear him recite some verses he had learned for my +birthday; and, what with one thing and another, it was pitch dark when I +reached the 'New Cut,' and then, to my annoyance, I found the bridge had +just been carried away--there, Catty, now for a pair of your own +comfortable slippers--and, as I was saying to you, there was no bridge!” + +“The bridge gone!” exclaimed Catty, in horror. + +“All Tom Healey's fault. I told him that the arch had not span enough, +and that the buttresses would never stand the first heavy fall of rain +from the mountains, and there 's not a vestige of them now!” + +“And what did you do?” + +“I rode for the Low Meadows, Catty, with all speed. I knew that the +river, not being confined there between narrow banks, and spreading over +a wide surface, couldn't be very deep. Nor was it. It never touched the +girths but once, when we got into a hole. But she is such a rare good +beast, that little Sorrel; she dashed through everything, and I don't +think I took forty minutes from Kane's Mill to this door, though I never +saw a spot of the road all the while, except when the lightning showed +it. There now, like a good old dear, don't wring your hands and say, +'Blessed hour!' but just put some more tea in the teapot, and fetch me +your brown loaf!” + +“But surely you 'll die of cold!--you 'll be in a fever!” + +“Nonsense, Catty; I have been out in rain before this. I'm more provoked +about that bridge than all else. My excellent aunt will have such a +laugh at my engineering skill, when she hears of it. Can't be helped, +however. And so there's a dinner-party upstairs, I hear. Fanny told me +there were three strangers.” + +“So I hear. There's a lawyer from Dublin; and a lady from I don't know +where; and young Nelligan, old Dan's son. I 'm sure I never thought I 'd +see the day he 'd be eating his dinner at Cro' Martin.” + +“And why not, Catty? What is there in his manners and conduct that +should not make him good company for any one here?” + +“Is n't he the son of a little huckster in Oughterard? Old Dan, that I +remember without a shoe to his foot?” + +“And is it a reproach to him that he has made a fortune by years of +patient industry and toil?” + +“In-dus-try! toil! indeed,” said Catty, sneeringly. “How much in-dus-try +or toil there is, weighing out snuff and sugar in a snug shop. Ayeh! +he's an old nig-gar, the same Dan. I know him well.” + +“But that is no reason why you should disparage his son, Catty, who is a +young gentleman of the highest ability and great promise. I never heard +you speak so ungenerously before.” + +“Well, well, darling, don't look angry with your ould Catty, anyway. It +isn't for the like of Dan Nelligan, or his son either, you'd be cross +with _me!_” + +“Never, Catty, never,--for anybody or anything,” said the young girl, +taking her hand with both her own. “But you have n't told me who the +lady is. How did she arrive, and when?” + +“I know nothing of her. Peter came to say that the blue bedroom was +wanting to-night, and he wished to torment me into asking who for?--but +I wouldn't, just for that same; and so I gave him the keys without a +word.” + +“I wonder if this note, that I found on my dressing-table, will explain +anything,” said Mary, as she proceeded to break the seal. “Of all the +absurd ways of my Lady aunt, she has not a more ridiculous one than this +trick of writing little notes, instead of speaking. She sees me every +day, and might surely say whatever she wanted to say, without embalming +it in a despatch. This, I perceive, is number four hundred and +seventy-six, and I presume she 's correct in the score. Only think, +Catty,--four hundred little epistles like this!” + +And with these words she carelessly unfolded the letter and began to +read it. All her indifference of manner, however, soon gave way to an +expression of considerable eagerness, and she had no sooner finished the +epistle than she recommenced and reread it. + +“You 'd never guess what tidings this brings me, Catty,” said she, +laying down the paper, and looking with an expression half sad, half +comical. + +“Maybe I might, then,” said Catty, shaking her head knowingly. + +“Come, out with your guess, then, old lady, and I promise to venerate +your wisdom ever after if you be right,--that is, if nobody has already +given you a hint on the subject.” + +“Not one in the world,” said Catty, solemnly; “I pledge you my word and +faith I never heard a syllable about it.” + +“About it! about what?” + +“About what's in the letter there,” said Catty, stoutly. + +“You are therefore quite certain that you know it,” said Mary, smiling, +“so now let's have your interpretation.” + +“It 's a proposial,” said Catty, with a slight wink. + +“A what!” + +“A proposial--of marriage, I mean.” + +But before the words were out, Mary burst into a fit of laughter, so +hearty and with such good-will that poor Catty felt perfectly ashamed of +herself. + +“My dear Catty,” said she, at length, “you must have been reading fairy +tales this morning; nothing short of such bright literature could have +filled your mind with these imaginings. The object of the note is, I +assure you, of a quite different kind;” and here she ran her eye once +more over the epistle. “Yes,” continued she, “it is written in my dear +aunt's own peculiar style, and begins with a 'declaratory clause,' as I +think Mr. Scanlan would call it, expressive of my lamentably neglected +education, and then proceeds to the appropriate remedy, by telling me +that I am to have a governess!” + +“A what!” cried Catty, in angry amazement. + +“A governess, Catty,--not a governor, as you suspected.” + +“Ayeh, ayeh!” cried the old woman, wringing her hands; “what's this for? +Don't you know how to govern yourself by this time? And what can they +teach you that you don't understand already?” + +“Ah, my dear Catty,” said the young girl, sadly, “it is a sad subject +you would open there,--one that I have wept over many a dreary hour! +No one knows--no one even could guess--how deeply I have deplored my +illiterate condition. Nor was it,” added she, ardently, “till I had +fashioned out a kind of existence of my own--active, useful, and +energetic--that I could bury the thought of my utter want of education. +Not even you, Catty, could fathom all the tears this theme has cost +me, nor with what a sinking of the heart I have thought over my actual +unfitness for my station.” + +“Arrah, don't provoke me! don't drive me mad!” cried the old woman, in +real anger. “There never was one yet as fit for the highest place as +yourself; and it is n't me alone that says it, but hundreds of--” + +“Hundreds of dear, kind, loving hearts,” broke in Mary, “that would +measure my poor capacity by my will to serve them. But no matter, Catty; +I 'll not try to undeceive them. They shall think of me with every help +their own affection may lend them, and I will not love them less for the +overestimate.” + +As she spoke these words, she buried her face between her hands; but +the quick heaving of her chest showed how deep was her emotion. The old +woman respected her sorrow too deeply to interrupt her, and for several +minutes not a word was spoken on either side. At last Mary raised her +head, and throwing back the long, loose hair, which in heavy masses +shaded her face, said with a firm and resolute voice,-- + +“I 'd have courage to go to school to-morrow, Catty, and begin as a mere +child to learn, if I knew that another was ready to take my place here. +But who is to look after these poor people, who are accustomed now +to see me amongst them, on the mountains, in the fields, at their +firesides?--who gain new spirit for labor when I ride down in the midst +of them, and look up, cheered, by seeing me, even from a sick-bed. Her +Ladyship would say, Mr. Henderson could do all this far better than +myself.” + +“Mr. Henderson, indeed!” exclaimed Catty, indignantly; “the +smooth-tongued old rogue!” + +“And perhaps he might, in England,” resumed Mary; “but not here, +Catty,--not here! We care less for benefits than the source from which +they spring. We Irish cherish the love of motives as well as actions; +and, above all, we cherish the links that bind the lowliest in the land +with the highest, and make both better by the union.” + +She poured out these words with rapid impetuosity, rather talking to +herself than addressing her companion; then, suddenly changing her tone, +she added,-- + +“Besides, Catty, _they_ are used to me, and _I_ to _them_. A new face +and a new voice would not bring the same comfort to them.” + +“Never, never,” muttered the old woman to herself. + +“And I 'll not desert them.” + +“That you won't, darling,” said the old woman, kissing her hand +passionately, while tears swam in her eyes, and trickled down her +cheeks. + +“There is but one thought, Catty, that makes me at all faint-hearted +about this, and whenever it crosses me I do feel very low and +depressed.” She paused, and then murmured the words, “My father!” + +“Your father, my darling! What about _him?_” + +“It is thinking, Catty, of his return; an event that ought to be--and +would be, too--the very happiest of my life; a day for whose coming I +never sleep without a prayer; and yet, even this bright prospect has its +dark side, when I recall all my own deficiencies, and how different he +will find his daughter from what he had expected her.” + +“May the blessed saints grant me patience!” cried Catty, breaking in. +“Isn't it too bad to hear you talking this way? Sure, don't I know +Master Barry well? Didn't I nurse him, and wasn't I all as one as his +own mother to him, and don't I know that you are his own born image? +'Tis himself and no other ye are every minute of the day.” + +“And even that, Catty,” said Mary, smiling, “might fail to satisfy +him. It is something very different indeed he might have imagined his +daughter. I'm sure nobody can be more ignorant than I am, of what a +person in my station ought to know. I cannot hide this from myself in +my sad moments. I do not try to do so, but I have always relied upon +the consolation that, to an existence such as mine is like to be, these +deficiencies do not bring the same sense of shame, the same painful +consciousness of inferiority, as if I were to mingle with the world of +my equals. But if he were to come back,--he, who has seen society in +every shape and fashion,--and find me the poor, unlettered, unread, +untaught thing I am, unable to follow his very descriptions of +far-away lands without confusion and mistake; unable to benefit by his +reflections from very want of previous knowledge,--oh, Catty dearest, +what a miserable thing is self-love after all, when it should thus +thrust itself into the foreground, where very different affections alone +should have the place.” + +“He 'd love you like his own heart,” said Catty. “Nobody knows him like +me; and if there was ever one made for him to dote on, it's your own +self.” + +“Do you indeed think so?” cried Mary, eagerly. + +“Do I know it--could I swear it?” said Catty. “He was never much given +to study himself, except it was books of travel like 'Robinson Crusoe,' +and the like; and then, after reading one of them books he 'd be off for +days together, and we 'd be looking for him over the whole country, and +maybe find him in the middle of Kyle's Wood up a tree; or once, indeed, +it was in the island of Lettermullen we got him. He built a mud-house, +and was living there with a goat and two rabbits that he reared himself, +and if he was n't miserable when they brought him away home! I remember +his words well,--'Maybe,' says he, 'the time will come that I 'll go +where you can't come after me;' and ye see that's what he's done, for +nobody knows where he wasn't wandering these last eight or nine years.” + +When Catty got upon this theme she could not be brought to quit +it,--nor, indeed, did Mary try,--for though she had heard these stories +of her father's boyish days over and over again, she never wearied of +them; they had all the fascination of romance for her, with the stronger +interest that grew out of her love for one who, she was told, had +so loved herself. Besides this, she felt in her own heart the same +promptings to a life of action and adventure. All the incidents and +accidents of an eventful existence were the very things to delight her, +and one of her happiest daydreams was to fancy herself her father's +companion in his wanderings by flood and field. + +And thus they sat till a late hour of the night talking and listening, +old Catty answering each inquiry of the young girl by some anecdote or +trait of him she still persisted in calling “Master Barry,” till, in the +ardor of listening, Mary herself caught up the phrase, and so designated +her own father. + +“How unlike my uncle in everything!” exclaimed Mary, as she reflected +over some traits the old woman had just recorded. “And were they not +very fond of each other?” + +“That they were: at least I can answer for Master Barry's love; and to +be sure, if having a reason was worth anything, your uncle ought to love +him more than one man ever did another.” Old Catty uttered these +words with a slow and almost muttering accent; they seemed as if the +expression of a thought delivered involuntarily--almost unconsciously. + +Mary was attracted by the unwonted solemnity of her accent, but still +more by an expression of intense meaning which gathered over the old +woman's brows and forehead. “Ay, ay,” muttered she, still to herself, +“there's few brothers would do it. Maybe there's not another living but +himself would have done it.” + +“And what was it, Catty?” asked Mary, boldly. + +“Eh!--what was I saying, darling?” said Catty, rousing herself to full +consciousness. + +“You were telling of my father, and some great proof of affection he +gave my uncle.” + +“To be sure he did,” said the old woman, hastily. “They were always fond +of each other, as brothers ought to be.” + +“But this one particular instance of love,--what was it, Catty?” + +The old woman started, and looked eagerly around the room, as though to +assure herself that they were alone; then, drawing her chair close to +Mary's, she said, in a low voice: “Don't ask me any more about them +things, darling. 'T is past and gone many a year now, and I 'd rather +never think of it more, for I 've a heavy heart after it.” + +“So, then, it is a secret, Catty?” said Mary, half proudly. + +“A secret, indeed,” said Catty, shaking her head mournfully. + +“Then you need only to have said so, and I'd not have importuned you to +tell it; for, to say truth, Catty, I never knew you had any secrets from +me.” + +“Nor have I another, except this, darling,” said Catty; and she +buried her face within her hands. And now both sat in silence for some +minutes,--a most painful silence to each. At last Mary arose, and, +although evidently trying to overcome it, a feeling of constraint was +marked in her features. + +“You'd never guess how late it is, Catty,” said she, trying to change +the current of her thoughts. “You 'd not believe it is past three +o'clock; how pleasantly we must have talked, to forget time in this +way!” + +But the old woman made no reply, and it was clear that she had never +heard the words, so deeply was she sunk in her own reflections. + +“This poor hat of mine will scarcely do another day's service,” said +Mary, as she looked at it half laughingly. “Nor is my habit the fresher +of its bath in the 'Red River;' and the worst of it is, Catty, I have +overdrawn my quarter's allowance, and must live on, in rags, till +Easter. I see, old lady, you have no sympathies to waste on me and my +calamities this evening,” added she, gayly, “and so I'll just go to bed +and, if I can, dream pleasantly.” + +“Rags, indeed,” said Catty. “It's well it becomes you to wear rags!” + and her eyes sparkled with indignant passion. “Faith, if it comes +to that,”--here she suddenly paused, and a pale hue spread over her +features like a qualm of faintish sickness,--“may the Holy Mother give +me help and advice; for sometimes I'm nigh forgetting myself!” + +“My dear old Catty,” said Mary, fondly, “don't fret about me and my +foolish speech. I only said it in jest. I have everything,--far more +than I want; a thousand times more than I desire. And my excellent +aunt never said a truer thing in her life than when she declared that +'everybody spoiled me.' Now, good-night.” And kissing the old woman +affectionately, Mary gathered up the stray fragments of her riding-gear, +and hurried away, her merry voice heard cheerfully as she wended her way +up many a stair and gallery to her own chamber. + +If Mary Martin's character had any one quality preeminently remarkable, +it was the absence of everything like distrust and suspicion. Frankness +and candor itself in all her dealings, she never condescended to impute +secret motives to another; and the very thought of anything like mystery +was absolutely repugant to her nature. For the very first time in her +life, then, she left old Catty Broon with a kind of uneasy, dissatisfied +impression. There was a secret, and she was somehow or other concerned +in it; so much was clear. How could she convince the old woman that no +revelation, however disagreeable in itself, could be as torturing as a +doubt? “Can there be anything in my position or circumstances here that +I am not aware of? Is there a mystery about me in any way?” The very +imagination of such a thing was agony. In vain she tried to chase away +the unwelcome thought by singing, as she went, by thinking over plans +for the morrow, by noting down, as she did each night, some stray +records of the past day; still Catty's agitated face and strange emotion +rose before her, and would not suffer her to be at rest. + +To a day of great excitement and fatigue now succeeded a sleepless, +feverish night, and morning broke on her unrefreshed, and even ill. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER + +Can any one tell us what has become of that high conversational power +for which Ireland, but more especially Dublin, was once celebrated? Have +the brilliant talkers of other days left no successors? Has that race of +delightful con-vivialists gone and disappeared forever? Or are we only +enduring an interregnum of dulness, the fit repose, perhaps, after a +period of such excitement? The altered circumstances of the country will +doubtless account for much of this change. The presence of a Parliament +in Ireland imparted a dignity and importance to society, while it +secured to social intercourse the men who made that Senate illustrious. +The Bar, too, of former days, was essentially the career of the highest +class, of those who had the ambition of political success without the +necessity of toiling for it through the laborious paths of the law; and +thus the wit, the brilliancy, and the readiness which gives conversation +its charm, obtained the high culture which comes of a learned +profession, and the social intercourse with men of refined +understanding. + +With the Union this spirit died out. Some of the brightest and gayest +retired from the world, sad, dispirited, and depressed; some felt that +a new and very different career was to open before them, and addressed +themselves to the task of conforming to new habits and acquiring new +influences; and others, again, sought in the richer and greater country +the rewards which they once were satisfied to reap in their own. With +the Union, society in Dublin--using the word in its really comprehensive +sense--ceased to exist. The great interests of a nation departed, men +sank to the level of the small topics that engaged them, and gradually +the smallest and narrowest views of mere local matters usurped the place +of great events and liberal speculations. Towards the end of the +first quarter of the present century, a few of those who had once made +companionship with Curran and Grattan and Lysaght and Parsons were still +in good health and vigor. A fine, high-hearted, manly class they were, +full of that peculiar generosity of character which has ever marked the +true Irish gentleman, and with a readiness in humor and a genial flow of +pleasantry which rendered their society delightful. + +Of this school--and probably the last, for he was then the Father of the +Bar--was Valentine Repton, a man whose abilities might have won for him +the very highest distinctions, but who, partly through indolence, and +partly through a sturdy desire to be independent of all party, had all +his life rejected every offer of advancement, and had seen his juniors +pass on to the highest ranks of the profession, while he still wore his +stuff-gown, and rose to address the Court from the outer benches. + +He was reported in early life to have professed very democratic +opinions, for which he more than once had incurred the _deep_ +displeasure of the authorities of the University. The principles of +the French Revolution had, however, been gradually toned down in him +by time, and probably by a very aristocratic contempt for the party who +advocated them; so that soon after he entered on his career at the Bar +he seemed to have abandoned politics; nor, except by a sly jest or an +epigram upon a party leader, no matter of which side, did he ever advert +to the contests of statecraft. + +Though closely approaching seventy, he was hale and vigorous, his gray +eyes quick and full of fire, his voice clear, and his whole air and +bearing that of one many years younger. He had been a “beau” in his +youth, and there was in the accurately powdered hair, the lace ruffles +in which he still appeared at dinner, and the well-fitting silk +stocking, an evidence that he had not forgotten the attractions of +dress. At the Bar he still maintained the very highest place. His +powers of cross-examination were very great; his management of a jury +unrivalled. A lifelong acquaintance with Dublin had familiarized him +with the tone and temper of every class of its citizens, and had taught +him the precise kind of argument, and the exact nature of the appeal to +address to each. As he grew older, perhaps he did not observe all his +wonted discretion in the use of this subtle power, and somewhat presumed +upon his own skill. Nor was he so scrupulous in his deference to the +Court,--a feature which had once pre-eminently distinguished him; +but, upon the whole, he had kept wonderfully clear of the proverbial +irritability of age, and was, without an exception, the favorite amongst +his brethren. + +The only touch of years observable about his mind was a fondness for +recurring to incidents or events in which he himself had borne a part. +A case in which he held a brief, the dinner at which he had +been brilliant, the epigram he had dashed off in Lady Somebody's +drawing-room, were bright spots he could not refrain from adverting to; +but, generally speaking, he had skill enough to introduce these without +any seeming effort or any straining, and thus strangers, at least, were +in wonderment at his endless stores of anecdote and illustration. No +man better than he knew how to throw a great name into the course of a +conversation, and make an audience for himself, by saying, “I remember +one day at the Priory with Curran”--or, “We were dining with poor +Grattan at Tinnehinch, when--” “As Flood once remarked to me--” and so +on. + +The flattery of being addressed by one who had stood in such intimate +relation to those illustrious men never failed of success. The most +thoughtless and giddy hearers were at once arrested by such an opening, +and Repton was sure of listeners in every company. + +The man who finds his place in every society is unquestionably a clever +man. The aptitude to chime in with the tone of others infers a high +order of humor,--of humor in its real sense; meaning, thereby, +the faculty of appreciating, and even cultivating, the individual +peculiarities of those around him, and deriving from their display a +high order of pleasure. + +From these scattered traits let my reader conjure up Valentine Repton +before him, and imagine the bustling, active, and brisk-looking old +gentleman whose fidgetiness nearly drove Martin mad, as they held +converse together in the library after breakfast. Now seated, now rising +to pace the room, or drawing nigh the window to curse the pelting rain +without, Repton seemed the incarnation of uneasiness. + +“Very splendid--very grand--very sumptuous--no doubt,” said he, ranging +his eyes over the gorgeous decorations of the spacious apartment, “but +would kill me in a month; what am I saying?--in a week!” + +“What would kill you, Repton?” said Martin, languidly. + +“This life of yours, Martin,--this sombre quiet, this unbroken +stillness, this grave-like monotony. Why, man, where 's your +neighborhood? where are your gentry friends?” + +“Cosby Blake, of Swainestown, is abroad,” said Martin, with an indolent +drawl. “Randal Burke seldom comes down here now. Rickman, I believe, is +in the Fleet. They were the nearest to us!” + +“What a country! and you are spending--What did you tell me last +night,--was it upwards of ten thousand a year here?” + +“What with planting, draining, bridging, reclaiming waste lands, +and other improvements, the wages of last year alone exceeded seven +thousand!” + +“By Jove! it 's nigh incredible,” said the lawyer, energetically. “My +dear Martin, can't you perceive that all this is sheer waste,--so much +good money actually thrown into Lough Corrib? Tell me, frankly, how long +have you been pursuing this system of improvement?” + +“About three years; under Mary's management.” + +“And the results,--what of them?” + +“It is too early to speak of that; there's Kyle's Wood, for +instance,--we have enclosed that at considerable cost. Of course we +can't expect that the mere thinnings can repay us, the first year or +two.” + +“And your reclaimed land,--how has _it_ prospered?” + +“Not over well. They pushed draining so far that they 've left a large +tract perfectly barren and unproductive.” + +“And the harbor,--the pier I saw yesterday?” + +“That 's a bad business,--it's filling up the bay with sand! but we'll +alter it in summer.” + +“And now for the people themselves,--are they better off, better fed, +clothed, housed, and looked after, than before?” + +“Mary says so. She tells me that there is a wonderful change for the +better in them.” + +“I don't believe a word of it, Martin,--not a word of it. Ireland is not +to be redeemed by her own gentry. The thing is sheer impossibility! They +both know each other too well. Do you understand me? They are too ready +to make allowances for shortcomings that have their source in some +national prejudice; whereas your Saxon or your Scotchman would +scout such a plea at once. Ireland wants an alternative, Martin,--an +alternative; and, amidst our other anomalies, not the least singular is +the fact that the Englishman, who knows nothing about us, nor ever will +know anything, is precisely the man to better our condition.” + +“These are strange opinions to hear from your lips, Repton. I never +heard any man so sarcastic as yourself on English ignorance regarding +Ireland.” + +“And you may hear me again on the same theme whenever you vouchsafe me +an audience,” said the lawyer, sharply. “It was but the other day I gave +our newly arrived secretary, Mr. Muspratt, a gentle intimation of my +sentiments on that score. We were dining at the Lodge. I sat next his +Excellency, who, in the course of dinner, directed my attention to a +very graphic picture the secretary was drawing of the misery he had +witnessed that very day, coming up from Carlow. He did the thing well, +I must own. He gave the famished looks, the rags, the wretchedness, all +their due; and he mingled his pathos and indignation with all the skill +of an artist; while he actually imparted a Raffaelle effect to his +sketch, as he portrayed the halt, the maimed, the blind, and the palsied +that crowded around the carriage as he changed horses, exclaiming, +by way of peroration, 'Misery and destitution like this no man ever +witnessed before, all real and unfeigned as it was sure to be.' + +“'Naas is a miserable place, indeed,' said I, for he looked directly +towards me for a confirmation of his narrative. + +“'There is no denying one word the gentleman has said; I came up that way +from circuit three weeks ago, and was beset in the same spot, and in the +same manner as we have just heard. I can't attempt such a description as +Mr. Muspratt has given us; but I will say that there was not a human +deformity or defect that did n't appear to have its representative in +that ragged gathering, all clamorous and eager for aid. I looked at them +for a while in wonderment, and at last I threw out a “tenpenny” in the +midst. The “blind” fellow saw it first, but the “lame cripple” had the +foot of him, and got the money!'” + +Repton leaned back in his chair, and laughed heartily as he finished. “I +only wish you saw his face, Martin; and, indeed, his Excellency's too. +The aides-de-camp laughed; they were very young, and could n't help it.” + +“He 'll not make you a chief justice, Repton,” said Martin, slyly. + +“I 'll take care he don't,” said the other. “_Summum jus summa injuria_. +The chief justice is a great humbug, or a great abuse, whichever way you +like to render it.” + +“And yet they'd be glad to promote you,” said Martin, thoughtfully. + +“To be sure they would, sir; delighted to place me where they had no +fear of my indiscretions. But your judge should be ever a grave animal. +The temptation to a joke should never sit on the ermine. As Flood once +remarked to me of old Romney, 'A man, sir,' said he,--and Flood had +a semi-sarcastic solemnity always about him,--'a man, sir, who has +reversed the law of physics; for he rose by his gravity, and only fell +by his lightness.' Very epigrammatic and sharp, that. Ah, Martin, they +don't say these things nowadays. By the way, who is the young fellow who +dined with us yesterday?” + +“His name is Nelligan; the son of one of our Oughterard neighbors.” + +“Pleasing manners, gentle, too, and observant,” said Repton, with the +tone of one delivering a judgment to be recorded. + +“He's more than that,” said Martin; “he is the great prize man of the +year in Trinity. You must have surely heard of his name up in town.” + +“I think somebody did speak of him to me,--recommend him, in some +shape or other,” said Repton, abstractedly; “these things are so easily +forgotten; for, to say the truth, I hold very cheaply all intellectual +efforts accomplished by great preparation. The cramming, the grinding, +the plodding, the artificial memory work, and the rest of it, detract +terribly, in my estimation, from the glory of success. Give me your +man of impromptu readiness, never unprepared, never at a loss. The very +consciousness of power is double power.” And as he spoke he drew himself +up, threw his head back, and stared steadfastly at Martin, as though to +say, “Such is he who now stands before you.” + +Martin was amused at the display of vanity, and had there been another +there to have participated in the enjoyment, would have willingly +encouraged him to continue the theme; but he was alone, and let it pass. + +“I 'll make a note of that young man. Mulligan, is n't it?” + +“Nelligan.” + +“To be sure. I 'll remember poor Curran's epigram:-- + + 'Oh, pity poor Tom Nelligan! + Who walking down Pall Mall, + He slipt his foot, + And down he fell, + And fears he won't get well again.' + + +Glorious fellow, sir; the greatest of all the convivialists of his +time, was Curran. A host in himself; but, as he once said, you could n't +always depend on the 'elevation.'” + +Martin smiled faintly; he relished the lawyer's talk, but he felt +that it demanded an amount of attention on his part that wearied him. +Anything that cost him trouble was more or less of a “bore;” and he +already began to wish for his accustomed ease and indolence. + +“Well, Repton,” said he, “you wished to see the quarries, I think?” + +“To see everything and everybody, sir, and with my own eyes, too. As +Lysaght said, when I read the book of nature, 'I let no man note my +brief for me.'” + +“I thought of being your companion, myself; but somehow, this morning, +my old enemy, the gout, is busy again; however, you 'll not regret the +exchange, Repton, when I give you in charge to my niece. She 'll be but +too happy to do the honors of our poor country to so distinguished a +visitor.” + +“And a very artful plan to put me in good humor with everything,” said +Repton, laughing. “Well, I consent. I offer myself a willing victim to +any amount of seduction. How are we to go?--do we drive, walk, or ride?” + +“If Mary be consulted, she'll say ride,” said Martin; “but perhaps--” + +“I'm for the saddle, too,” broke in Repton. “Give me something active +and lively, light of mouth and well up before, and I'll show you, as +Tom Parsons said, that we can cut as good a figure at the wall as the +'bar.'” + +“I 'll go and consult my niece, then,” said Martin, hastening out of the +room, to conceal the smile which the old man's vanity had just provoked. + +Mary was dressed in her riding-habit, and about to leave her room as her +uncle entered it. + +“I have just come in the nick of time, Molly, I see,” cried he. “I +want you to lionize an old friend of mine, who has the ambition to 'do' +Connemara under your guidance.” + +“What a provoke!” said Mary, half aloud. “Could he not wait for another +day, uncle? I have to go over to Glencalgher and Kilduff; besides, +there's that bridge to be looked after, and they 've just come to tell +me that the floods have carried away the strong paling around the larch +copse. Really, this old gentleman must wait.” It was a rare thing for +Mary Martin to display anything either of impatience or opposition to +her uncle. Her affection for him was so blended with respect that she +scarcely ever transgressed in this wise; but this morning she was ill +and irritable,--a restless, feverish night following on a day of great +fatigue and as great excitement,--and she was still suffering, and her +nerves jarring when he met her. + +“But I assure you, Molly, you 'll be pleased with the companionship,” + began Martin. + +“So I might at another time; but I 'm out of sorts to-day, uncle. I 'm +cross and ill-tempered, and I 'll have it out on Mr. Henderson,--that +precious specimen of his class. Let Mr. Nelligan perform cicerone, or +persuade my Lady to drive him out; do anything you like with him, except +give him to me.” + +“And yet that is exactly what I have promised him. As for Nelligan, they +are not suited to each other; so come, be a good girl, and comply.” + +“If I must,” said she, pettishly. “And how are we to go?” + +“He proposes to ride, and bespeaks something lively for his own mount.” + +“Indeed! That sounds well!” cried she, with more animation. “There 's +'Cropper' in great heart; he 'll carry him to perfection. I 'll have a +ring-snaffle put on him, and my word for it but he 'll have a pleasant +ride.” + +“Take care, Molly; take care that he's not too fresh. Remember that +Repton is some dozen years or more my senior.” + +“Let him keep him off the grass and he 'll go like a lamb. I'll not +answer for him on the sward, though; but I 'll look to him, uncle, and +bring him back safe and sound.” And, so saying, Mary bounded away down +the stairs, and away to the stables, forgetting everything of her late +discontent, and only eager on the plan before her. + +Martin was very far from satisfied about the arrangement for his +friend's equitation; nor did the aspect of Repton himself, as attired +for the road, allay that sense of alarm; the old lawyer's costume being +a correct copy of the colored prints of those worthies who figured in +the early years of George the Third's reign,--a gray cloth spencer being +drawn over his coat, fur-collared and cuffed, high riding-boots of black +polished leather, reaching above the knee, and large gauntlets of bright +yellow doeskin, completing an equipment which Martin had seen nothing +resembling for forty years back. + +“A perfect cavalier, Repton!” exclaimed he, smiling. + +“We once could do a little that way,” said the other, with a touch +of vanity. “In our early days, Martin, hunting was essentially a +gentleman's pastime. The meet was not disfigured by aspiring linen +drapers or ambitious hardwaremen, and the tone of the field was the +tone of society; but _nous avons changé tout cela_. Sporting men, as +they call themselves, have descended to the groom vocabulary; and the +groom morals, and we, of the old school, should only be laughed at for +the pedantry of good manners and good English, did we venture amongst +them.” + +“My niece will put a different estimate on your companionship; and here +she comes. Molly, my old and valued friend, Mr. Repton.” + +“I kiss your hand, Miss Martin,” said he, accompanying the speech by the +act, with all the grace of a courtier. “It's worth while being an old +fellow, to be able to claim these antiquated privileges.” + +There was something in the jaunty air and well-assumed gallantry of the +old lawyer which at once pleased Mary, who accepted his courtesy with a +gracious smile. She had been picturing to herself a very different kind +of companion, and was well satisfied with the reality. + +“I proposed to young Mr. Nelligan to join us,” said Repton, as he +conducted her to the door; “but it seems he is too deeply intent upon +some question or point of law or history--I forget which--whereupon we +differed last night, and has gone into the library to search for the +solution of it. As for me, Miss Martin, I am too young for such dry +labors; or, as the Duc de Nevers said, when somebody rebuked him +for dancing at seventy, 'Only think what a short time is left me for +folly.'” + +We do not propose to chronicle, the subjects or the sayings by which +the old lawyer beguiled the way; enough if we say that Mary was actually +delighted with his companionship. The racy admixture of humor and strong +common-sense, acute views of life, flavored with, now a witty remark, +now a pertinent anecdote, were conversational powers totally new to her. +Nor was he less charmed with her. Independently of all the pleasure +it gave him to find one who heard him with such true enjoyment, and +relished all his varied powers of amusing, he was equally struck with +the high-spirited enthusiasm and generous ardor of the young girl. She +spoke of the people and the country with all the devotion of one who +loved both; and if at times with more of hopefulness than he himself +could feel, the sanguine forecast but lent another charm to her +fascination. + +He listened with astonishment as she explained to him the different +works then in progress,--the vast plans for drainage; the great +enclosures for planting; the roads projected here, the bridges there. At +one place were strings of carts, conveying limestone for admixture with +the colder soil of low grounds; at another they met asses loaded with +seaweed for the potato land. There was movement and occupation on every +side. In the deep valleys, on the mountains, in the clefts of the rocky +shore, in the dark marble quarries, hundreds of people were employed; +and by these was Mary welcomed with eager enthusiasm the moment she +appeared. One glance at their delighted features was sufficient to show +that theirs was no counterfeit joy. Wherever she went the same reception +awaited her; nor did she try to conceal the happiness it conferred. + +“This is very wonderful, very strange, and very fascinating, Miss +Martin,” said Repton, as they moved slowly through a rocky path, +escarped from the side of the mountain; “but pardon me if I venture to +suggest one gloomy anticipation in the midst of such brightness. What is +to become of all these people when _you_ leave them,--as leave them you +will and must, one day?” + +“I never mean to do so,” said Mary, resolutely. + +“Stoutly spoken,” said he, smiling; “but, unfortunately, he who hears it +could be your grandfather. And again I ask, how is this good despotism +to be carried on when the despot abdicates? Nay, nay; there never was +a very beautiful girl yet, with every charm under heaven, who did n't +swear she 'd never marry; so let us take another alternative. Your uncle +may go to live in London,--abroad. He may sell Cro' Martin--” + +“Oh, that is impossible! He loves the old home of his family and his +name too dearly; he would be incapable of such a treason to his house!” + +“Now, remember, my dear young lady, you are speaking to the most +suspectful, unimpulsive, and ungenerously disposed of all natures, an +old lawyer, who has witnessed so many events in life he would have +once pronounced impossible,--ay, just as roundly as you said the word +yourself,--and seen people and things under aspects so totally the +reverse of what he first knew them, that he has taught himself to +believe that change is the law, and not permanence, in this life, and +that you and I, and all of us, ought ever to look forward to anything, +everything, but the condition in which at present we find ourselves. +Now, I don't want to discourage you with the noble career you have +opened for yourself here. I am far more likely to be fascinated--I was +going to say fall in love--with you for it, than to try and turn your +thoughts elsewhere; but as to these people themselves, the experiment +comes too late.” + +“Is it ever too late to repair a wrong, to assist destitution, relieve +misery, and console misfortune?” broke in Mary, eagerly. + +“It is too late to try the feudal system in the year of our Lord 1829, +Miss Martin. We live in an age where everything is to be redressed by +a Parliament. The old social compact between proprietor and peasant is +repealed, and all must be done by 'the House.' Now, if your grandfather +had pursued the path that you are doing to-day, this crisis might +never have arrived; but he did not, young lady. He lived like a real +gentleman; he hunted, and drank, and feasted, and rack-rented, and +horsewhipped all around him; and what with duelling of a morning and +drinking over-night, taught the people a code of morals that has assumed +all the compactness of a system. Ay, I say it with grief, this is a land +corrupted from the top, and every vice of its gentry has but filtered +down to its populace! What was that I heard?--was it not a shot?” cried +he, reining in his horse to listen. + +“I thought so, too; but it might be a blast, for we are not far from the +quarries.” + +“And do you preserve the game, Miss Martin? are you sworn foe to the +poacher?” + +“I do so; but in reality more for the sake of the people than the +partridges. Your lounging country fellow, with a rusty gun and a starved +lurcher, is but an embryo highwayman.” + +“So he is,” cried Repton, delighted at the energy with which she spoke; +“and I have always thought that the worst thing about the game-laws was +the class of fellows we educate to break them. Poor old Cranbury was n't +of that opinion, though. You could never have seen him, Miss Martin; but +he was a fine specimen of the Irish Bench in the old time. He was the +readiest pistol in the Irish house; and, as they said then, he 'shot up' +into preferment. He always deemed an infraction of the game-laws as one +of the gravest crimes in the statute. Juries, however, did n't concur +with him; and, knowing the severity of the penalty, they invariably +brought in a verdict of Not Guilty, rather than subject a poor wretch +to transportation for a jack-snipe. I remember once,--it was at +Maryborough; the fellow in the dock was a notable poacher, and, worse +still, the scene of his exploits was Cranbury's own estate. As usual, +the jury listened apathetically to the evidence; they cared little +for the case, and had predetermined the verdict. It was, however, so +palpably proven, so self-evident that he was guilty, that they clubbed +their heads together to concert a pretext for their decision. Cranbury +saw the movement, and appreciated it, and, leaning his head down upon +his hand, mumbled out, as if talking to himself, in broken sentences, +'A poor man--with a large family--great temptation--and, after all, +a slight offence,--a very slight offence.' The jury listened and took +courage; they fancied some scruples were at work in the old judge's +heart, and that they might venture on the truth, innocuously. 'Guilty, +my Lord,' said the foreman. 'Transportation for seven years!' cried the +judge, with a look at the jury-box that there was no mistaking. They +were 'done,' but there never was another conviction in that town +afterwards.” + +“And were such things possible on the justice-seat?” exclaimed Mary, in +horror. + +“Ah, my dear young lady, I could tell you of far worse than that. There +was a time in this country when the indictment against the prisoner +was Secondary in importance to his general character, his party, +his connections, and fifty other things which had no bearing upon +criminality. There goes another shot! I 'll swear to that,” cried he, +pulling up short, and looking in the direction from which the report +proceeded. + +Mary turned at the same moment, and pointed with her whip towards a +beech wood that skirted the foot of the mountain. + +“Was it from that quarter the sound came?” said she. + +The sharp crack of a fowling-piece, quickly followed by a second report, +now decided the question; and, as if by mutual consent, they both +wheeled their horses round, and set off at a brisk canter towards the +wood. + +“I have taken especial pains about preserving this part of the estate,” + said Mary, as they rode along. “It was my cousin Harry's favorite cover +when he was last at home, and he left I can't say how many directions +about it when quitting us; though, to say truth, I never deemed any +precautions necessary till he spoke of it.” + +“So that poaching was unknown down here?” + +“Almost completely so; now and then some idle fellow with a half-bred +greyhound might run down a hare, or with a rusty firelock knock over a +rabbit, but there it ended. And as we have no gentry neighbors to ask +for leave, and the Oughterard folks would not venture on that liberty, +I may safely say that the report of a gun is a rare event in these +solitudes.” + +“Whoever he be, yonder, is not losing time,” said Rep-ton; “there was +another shot.” + +Their pace had now become a smart half-gallop; Mary, a little in +advance, leading the way, and pointing out the safe ground to her +companion. As they drew nigh the wood, however, she slackened speed till +he came up, and then said,-- + +“As I know everybody hereabouts, it will be enough if I only see the +offender; and how to do that is the question.” + +“I am at your orders,” said Repton, raising his whip to a salute. + +“It will be somewhat difficult,” said Mary, pondering; “the wood is so +overgrown with low copse that one can't ride through it, except along +certain alleys. Now we might canter there for hours and see nothing. I +have it,” cried she, suddenly; “you shall enter the wood and ride slowly +along the green alley, yonder, till you come to the crossroad, when you +'ll turn off to the left; while I will remain in observation outside +here, so that if our friend make his exit I am sure to overtake him. At +all events, we shall meet again at the lower end of the road.” + +Repton made her repeat her directions, and then, touching his hat in +respectful salutation, rode away to fulfil his mission. A low gate, +merely fastened by a loop of iron without a padlock, admitted the lawyer +within the precincts, in which he soon discovered that his pace must be +a walk, so heavy was the deep clayey soil, littered with fallen leaves +and rotting acorns. Great trees bent their massive limbs over his head, +and, even leafless as they were, formed a darksome, gloomy aisle, the +sides of which were closed in with the wild holly and the broom, and +even the arbutus, all intermingled inextricably. There was something +solemn even to sadness in the deep solitude, and so Repton seemed to +feel as he rode slowly along, alone, tingeing his thoughts of her he had +just quitted with melancholy. + +“What a girl and what a life!” said he, musingly. “I must tell +Martin that this will never do! What can all this devotion end in but +disappointment! With the first gleam of their newly acquired power the +people will reject these benefits; they will despise the slow-won fruits +of industry as the gambler rejects a life of toil. Then will come +a reaction--a terrible reaction--with all the semblance of black +ingratitude! She will herself be disgusted. The breach once made will +grow wider and wider, and at last the demagogue will take the place of +the landed proprietor. Estrangement at first, next distrust, and finally +dislike, will separate the gentry from the peasantry, and then--I +tremble to think of what then!” + +As Repton had uttered these words, the sharp bang of a gun startled him, +and at the same instant a young fellow sprang from the copse in front +of him into the alley. His coarse fustian shooting-jacket, low-crowned +oil-skin hat, and leather gaiters seemed to bespeak the professional +poacher, and Repton dashed forward with his heavy riding-whip upraised +towards him. + +[Illustration: 206] + +“Take care, old gentleman,” said the young man, facing about; “my second +barrel is loaded, and if you dare--” + +“By Heaven! I'll thrash you, you scoundrel!” said Repton, whose passion +was now boiling over by a sudden bound of the cob, which had nearly +thrown him from the saddle,--a mischance greeted by a hearty burst of +laughter from the stranger. + +“I fancy you have quite enough to do at this moment!” cried he, still +laughing. + +Half mad with anger, Repton pressed his spurs to the cob's flanks, while +he gave him a vigorous cut of the whip on the shoulder. The animal +was little accustomed to such usage, and reared up wildly, and would +inevitably have fallen back with his rider, had not the stranger, +springing forward, seized the bridle, and pulled him down by main force. +Whether indifferent to his own safety, or so blinded by passion as not +to recognize to what he owed it, the old man struck the other a heavy +blow with his whip over the head, cutting through his hat, and covering +his face with blood. + +The young man passing his arm through the bridle, so as to render the +other's escape impossible, coolly removed his hat and proceeded to +stanch the bleeding with his handkerchief,--not the slightest sign of +excitement being displayed by him, nor any evidence of feeling that the +event was other than a more accident. + +“Let loose my bridle-rein,--let it loose, sir,” said Repton, +passionately,--more passionately, perhaps, from observing the measured +calmness of the other. + +“When I know who you are, I shall,” said the young man. + +“My name is Valentine Repton; my address, if you want it, is Merrion +Square North, Dublin; and can you now tell me where a magistrate's +warrant will reach _you?_” + +“My present residence is a house you may have seen on the side of the +mountain as you came along, called, I think, Barnagheela; my name is +Massingbred.” + +“You presume to be a gentleman, then?” said Repton. + +“I have not heard the matter disputed before,” said Jack, with an easy +smile, while he leisurely bound the handkerchief round his head. + +“And of course, you look for satisfaction for this?” + +“I trust that there can be no mistake upon that point, at least,” + replied he. + +“And you shall have it, too; though, hang me, if I well know whether you +should not receive it at the next assizes,--but you shall have it. I +'ll go into Oughterard this day; I 'll be there by nine o'clock, at the +Martin Arms.” + +“That will do,” said Massingbred, with a coolness almost like +indifference; while he resumed his gun, which he had thrown down, and +proceeded to load the second barrel. + +“You are aware that you are poaching here?” said Repton,--“that this is +part of the Martin estate, and strictly preserved?” + +“Indeed! and I thought it belonged to Magennis,” said Jack, easily; “but +a preserve without a gamekeeper, or even a notice, is a blockade without +a blockading squadron.” And without a word more, or any notice of the +other, Massingbred shouldered his gun and walked away. + +It was some time before Repton could summon resolution to leave the +spot, such was the conflict of thoughts that went on within him. Shame +and sorrow were, indeed, uppermost in his mind, but still not unmingled +with anger at the consummate ease and coolness of the other, who by this +line of conduct seemed to assume a tone of superiority the most +galling and insulting. In vain did he endeavor to justify his act to +himself,--in vain seek to find a plausible pretext for his anger. He +could not, by all his ingenuity, do so, and he only grew more passionate +at his own failure. “Another would hand him over to the next justice of +the peace,--would leave him to quarter sessions; but not so Val +Repton. No, by Jove, he 'll find a man to his humor there, if he wants +fighting,” said he, aloud, as he turned his horse about and rode slowly +back. + +It was already dusk when he joined Miss Martin, who, uneasy at his +prolonged absence, had entered the wood in search of him. It required +all the practised dissimulation of the old lawyer to conceal the signs +of his late adventure; nor, indeed, were his replies to her questions +quite free from a certain amount of inconsistency. Mary, however, +willingly changed the subject, and led him back to speak of topics more +agreeable and congenial to him. Still he was not the same sprightly +companion who had ridden beside her in the morning. He conversed with a +degree of effort, and, when suffered, would relapse into long intervals +of silence. + +“Who inhabits that bleak-looking house yonder?” said he, suddenly. + +“A certain Mr. Magennis, a neighbor, but not an acquaintance, of ours.” + +“And how comes it that he lives in the very middle, as it were, of the +estate?” + +“An old lease, obtained I can't say how many centuries back, and which +will expire in a year or two. He has already applied for a renewal of +it.” + +“And of course, unsuccessfully?” + +“Up to this moment it is as you say, but I am endeavoring to persuade +my uncle not to disturb him; nor would he, if Magennis would only be +commonly prudent. You must know that this person is the leading Radical +of our town of Oughterard, the man who sets himself most strenuously in +opposition to our influence in the borough, and would uproot our power +there, were he able.” + +“So far, then, he is a courageous fellow.” + +“Sometimes I take that view of his conduct, and at others I am disposed +to regard him as one not unwilling to make terms with us.” + +“How subtle all these dealings can make a young lady!” said Repton, +slyly. + +“Say, rather, what a strain upon one's acuteness it is to ride out with +a great lawyer, one so trained to see spots in the sun that he won't +acknowledge its brightness if there be a speck to search for.” + +“And yet it's a great mistake to suppose that we are always looking on +the dark side of human nature,” said he, reflectively; “though,” added +he, after a pause, “it's very often our business to exaggerate baseness, +and make the worst of a bad man.” + +“Even that may be more pardonable than to vilify a good one,” said Mary. + +“So it is, young lady; you are quite right there.” He was thoughtful +for a while, and then said: “It is very singular, but nevertheless true, +that, in my profession, one loses sight of the individual, as such, and +only regards him as a mere element of the case, plaintiff or defendant +as he may be. I remember once, in a southern circuit, a hale, +fine-looking young fellow entering my room to present me with a hare. He +had walked twelve miles to offer it to me. 'Your honor doesn't remember +me,' said he, sorrowfully, and evidently grieved at my forgetfulness. +'To be sure I do,' replied I, trying to recall his features; 'you +are--let me see--you are--I have it--you are Jemmy Ryan.' + +“'No, sir,' rejoined he, quickly, 'I'm the boy that murdered him.' + +“Ay, Miss Martin, there's a leaf out of a lawyer's notebook, and yet +I could tell you more good traits of men and women, more of patient +martyrdom under wrong, more courageous suffering to do right, than if I +were--what shall I say?--a chaplain in a nobleman's family.” + +Repton's memory was well stored with instances in question, and he +beguiled the way by relating several, till they reached Cro' Martin. + +“And there is another yet,” added he, at the close, “more strongly +illustrating what I have said than all these, but I cannot tell it to +_you_.” + +“Why so?” asked she, eagerly. + +“It is a family secret, Miss Martin, and one that in all likelihood you +shall never know. Still, I cannot refrain from saying that you have in +your own family as noble a specimen of self-sacrifice and denial as I +ever heard of.” + +They were already at the door as he said this, and a troop of servants +had assembled to receive them. Mary, therefore, had no time for further +inquiry, had such an attempt been of any avail. + +“There goes the first dinner-bell, Miss Martin,” said Repton, gayly. +“I'm resolved to be in the drawing-room before you!” And with this he +hopped briskly upstairs, while Mary hastened to her room to dress. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. “A RUINED FORTUNE” + +No stronger contrast could be presented than that offered by the house +which called Mr. Magennis master, to all the splendor and elegance +which distinguished Cro' Martin. Built on the side of a bleak, barren +mountain, without a trace of cultivation,--not even a tree beside +it,--the coarse stone walls, high pitched roof, and narrow windows +seemed all devised in some spirit of derision towards its graceful +neighbor. A low wall, coped with a formidable “frieze” of broken bottles +and crockery, enclosed a space in front once destined for a garden, but +left in its original state of shingle, intermixed with the remnants of +building materials and scaffold planks. A long shed, abutting on the +house, sheltered a cow and a horse; the latter standing with his head +above a rickety half-door, and looking ruefully out at the dismal +landscape beneath him. + +Most of the windows were broken,--and in some no attempt at repair +had been made,--indicating that the rooms within were left unused. The +hall-door stood ajar, but fastened by a strong iron chain; but the roof, +more than all besides, bespoke decay and neglect, the rafters being in +many places totally bare, while in others some rude attempts at tiling +compensated for the want of the original slates. A strong colony of +jackdaws had established themselves in one of the chimneys; but from +another, in the centre of the building, a thick volume of dark-blue +smoke rolled continually, conveying, indeed, the only sign of habitation +about this dreary abode. + +The inside of the house was, if possible, more cheerless than the out. +Most of the rooms had never been finished, and still remained in their +coarse brown plaster, and unprovided with grates or chimney-pieces. +The parlor, _par excellence_, was a long, low-ceilinged chamber, with +yellow-ochre walls, dimly lighted by two narrow windows; its furniture, +a piece of ragged carpet beneath a rickety table of black mahogany, some +half-dozen crazy chairs, and a small sideboard, surmounted by something +that might mean buffet or bookcase, and now served for both, being +indifferently garnished with glasses, decanters, and thumbed volumes, +intermingled with salt-cellars, empty sauce-bottles, and a powder-flask. + +An atrociously painted picture of an officer in scarlet uniform hung +over the fireplace, surmounted by an infantry sword, suspended by a +much-worn sash. These were the sole decorations of the room, to which +even the great turf fire that blazed on the hearth could not impart a +look of comfort. + +It was now a little after nightfall; the shutters were closed, and +two attenuated tallow candles dimly illuminated this dreary chamber. +A patched and much discolored tablecloth, with some coarse knives and +forks, bespoke preparation for a meal, and some half-dozen plates stood +warming before the fire. But the room had no occupant; and, except +for the beating of the shutters against the sash, as the wind whistled +through the broken window, all was silent within it. Now and then a loud +noise would resound through the house; doors would bang, and rafters +rattle, as the hall-door would be partially opened to permit the head of +a woman to peer out and listen if any one were coming; but a heavy +sigh at each attempt showed that hope was still deferred, and the weary +footfall of her steps, as she retired, betrayed disappointment. It was +after one of these excursions that she sat down beside the kitchen +fire, screening her face from the blaze with her apron, and then, in the +subdued light, it might be seen that, although bearing many traces of +sorrow and suffering, she was still young and handsome. Large masses of +the silkiest brown hair, escaping from her cap, fell in heavy masses +on her neck; her eyes were large and blue, and shaded by the longest +lashes; her mouth, a little large, perhaps, was still beautifully +formed, and her teeth were of surpassing whiteness. The expression +of the whole face was of gentle simplicity and love,--love in which +timidity, however, deeply entered, and made the feeling one of acute +suffering. In figure and dress she was exactly like any other peasant +girl, a gaudy silk handkerchief on her neck being the only article +of assumed luxury in her costume. She wore shoes, it is true,--not +altogether the custom of country girls,--but they were heavy and +coarsely made, and imparted to her walk a hobbling motion that detracted +from her appearance. + +A large pot which hung suspended by a chain above the fire seemed to +demand her especial care, and she more than once removed the wooden +cover to inspect the contents; after which she invariably approached the +window to listen, and then came back sorrowfully to her place, her lips +muttering some low sounds inaudibly. Once she tried to hum a part of a +song to try and beguile the time, but the effort was a failure, and, as +her voice died away, two heavy tears stole slowly along her cheeks, +and a deep sob burst from her; after which she threw her apron over her +face, and buried her head in her lap. It was as she sat thus that a loud +knocking shook the outer door, and the tones of a gruff voice rose even +above the noise; but she heard neither. Again and again was the summons +repeated, with the same result; and at last a handful of coarse gravel +struck the kitchen window with a crash that effectually aroused her, and +springing up in terror, she hastened to the door. + +In an instant she had unhooked the heavy chain, and sheltering the +candle with her hand, admitted a large powerfully built man, who was +scarcely within the hall when he said angrily, “Where the devil were +you, that you could n't hear me?” + +“I was in the kitchen, Tom,” said she. + +“Don't call _me_ Tom, d----n you,” replied he, violently. “Don't keep +dinning into me the infernal fool that I've made of myself, or it will +be worse for you.” + +“Sure I never meant any harm by it; and it was your own self bid me +do it,” said she, meekly, as she assisted him to remove his dripping +great-coat. + +“And don't I rue it well?” rejoined he, through his half-closed teeth. +“Isn't it this confounded folly that has shut me out of the best houses +in the county? My bitter curse on the day and the hour I first saw you!” + +“Oh, don't say them words,--don't, or you'll break my poor heart,” cried +she, clinging to him as he strode angrily into the parlor. + +“Be off with you,--be off to the kitchen, and leave me quiet,” said he, +rudely. + +“There 's your slippers, sir,” said she, meekly, as, bending down, she +untied his heavy shooting-shoes, and replaced them by a pair of list +ones. + +“Is the dinner ready?” asked he, sternly. + +“It is, sir; but Massin'bred is n't come back.” + +“And who the devil is Massingbred? Don't you think he might be Mister +Massingbred out of _your_ mouth?” + +“I ax your pardon, sir, and his, too; but I didn't mean--” + +“There, there,--away with you!” cried he, impatiently. “I 'm never in a +bad humor that you don't make me worse.” And he leaned his face between +his hands over the fire, while she slipped noiselessly from the room. + +“Maybe he thinks he's doing me honor by staying here,” burst he forth, +suddenly, as he sprang to his legs and stared angrily around him. “Maybe +he supposes that it's great condescension for him to put up with my +humble house! Ay, and that it's _my_ bounden duty to wait for _him_ to +any hour he pleases. If I thought he did,--if I was sure of it!” + added he, with a deep guttural tone, while he struck his clenched fist +violently against the chimney-piece. Then, seizing the large iron poker, +he knocked loudly with it against the back of the fireplace,--a summons +quickly answered by the appearance of the girl at the door. + +“Did he come in since morning?” asked he, abruptly. + +“No, sir, never,” replied she, with a half courtesy. + +“Nor say what time he 'd be back?” + +“Not a word, sir.” + +“Then, maybe, he's not coming back,--taken French leave, as they call +it, eh, Joan?” + +The sound of her name, spoken, too, in an accent of more friendly +meaning, lighted up her face at once, and her large eyes swam in tears +of gratitude towards him as she stood there. + +“But he 'd scarcely dare to do that!” said he, sternly. + +“No, sir,” said she, echoing half unconsciously his opinion. + +“And what do _you_ know about it?” said he, turning savagely on her. +“Where were you born and bred, to say what any gentleman might do, at +any time, or in anything? Is it Joan Landy, the herd's daughter, is +going to play fine lady upon us! Faix, we 're come to a pretty pass now, +in earnest! Be off with you! Away! Stop, what was that? Did n't you hear +a shot?” + +“I did, sir,--quite near the house, too.” + +A sharp knocking now on the hall-door decided the question, and Magennis +hastened to admit the arrival. + +It is a strange fact, and one of which we are satisfied merely to make +mention, without attempting in the least to explain, but no sooner was +Magennis in the presence of his young guest, than not only he seemed to +forget all possible cause of irritation towards him, but to behave +with a manner of, for him, the most courteous civility. He aided him +to remove his shot-belt and his bag; took his hat from his hands, and +carefully wiped it; placed a chair for him close to the fire; and +then, as he turned to address him, remarked for the first time the +blood-stained handkerchief which still bound his forehead. + +“Did you fall,--had you an accident?” asked he, eagerly. + +“No,” said the other, laughing; “a bit of an adventure only, which I 'll +tell you after dinner.” + +“Was it any of the people? Had you a fight--” + +“Come, Magennis, you must exercise a little patience. Not a word, not a +syllable, till I have eaten something, for I am actually famishing.” + +A stout knock of the poker on the chimney summoned the dinner, and +almost in the same instant the woman entered with a smoking dish of +Irish stew. + +“Mrs. Joan, you're an angel,” said Massingbred; “if there was a dish +I was longing for on this cold, raw day, it was one of your glorious +messes. They seem made for the climate, and by Jove, the climate for +them. I say, Mac, does it always rain in this fashion here?” + +“No; it sleets now and then, and sometimes blows.” + +“I should think it does,” said Jack, seating himself at the table. “The +pleasant little slabs of marble one sees on the cabin-roofs to keep +down the thatch are signs of your western zephyrs. Mrs. Joan has outdone +herself today. This is first-rate.” + +“There's too strong a flavor of hare in it,” said Magen-nis, critically. + +“That's exactly its perfection; the wild savor lifts it out of the +vulgar category of Irish stews, and assimilates it, but not too closely, +to the ragout. I tell you, Mac, there's genius in the composition of +that gravy.” + +The partial pedantry of this speech was more than compensated for by the +racy enjoyment of the speaker, and Magennis was really gratified at the +zest with which his young friend relished his meal. + +“It has one perfection, at least,” said he, modestly,--“it 's very +unlike what you get at home.” + +“We have a goodish sort of a cook,” said Jack, languidly,--“a fellow +my father picked up after the Congress of Verona. Truffles and treaties +seem to have some strong sympathetic attraction, and when diplomacy had +finished its work, a _chef_ was to be had cheap! The worst of the class +is, they 'll only functionate for your grand dinners and they leave your +every-day meal to some inferior in the department.” + +It was strange that Magennis could listen with interest always whenever +Massingbred spoke of habits, people, and places with which he had +never been conversant. It was not so much for the topics themselves +he cared,--they were, in reality, valueless in his eyes,--it was some +singular pleasure he felt in thinking that the man who could so discuss +them was his own guest, seated at his own table, thus connecting himself +by some invisible link with the great ones of this world! + +Massingbred's very name--the son of the celebrated Moore Massingbred--a +Treasury Lord--Heaven knows what else besides--certainly a Right +Honorable--was what first fascinated him in his young acquaintance, +and induced him to invite him to his house. Jack would probably have +declined the invitation, but it just came at the moment when he was +deeply mortified at Nelligan's absence,--an absence which old Dan was +totally unable to explain or account for. Indeed, he had forgotten that, +in his note to his son, he had not mentioned Massingbred by name, and +thus was he left to all the embarrassment of an apology without the +slightest clew as to the nature of the excuse. + +No sooner, then, was it apparent to Massingbred that young Nelligan did +not intend to return home, than he decided on taking his own departure. +At first he determined on going back to Dublin; but suddenly a malicious +thought sprung up of all, the mortification it might occasion Joe +to learn that he was still in the neighborhood; and with the amiable +anticipation of this vengeance, he at once accepted Magennis's offer to +“accompany him to his place in the mountains, and have some shooting.” + +It would not have been easy to find two men so essentially unlike in +every respect as these two, who now sat discussing their punch after +dinner. In birth, bringing-up, habits, instincts, they were widely +dissimilar, and yet, somehow, they formed a sort of companionship +palatable to each. Each had something to tell the other which he had +either not heard before, or not heard in the same way. We have already +adverted to the strong fascination Magen-nis experienced in dwelling on +the rank and social position of his young guest. Massingbred experienced +no less delight in the indulgence of his favorite pastime,--adventure +hunting. Now, here was really something like adventure,--this wild, rude +mountain home, this strange compound of gloom and passion, this poor +simple country girl, more than servant, less than wife,--all separated +from the remainder of the world by a gulf wider than mere space. These +were all ingredients more than enough to suggest matter for imagination, +and food for after-thought in many a day to come. + +They had thus passed part of a week in company, when the incident +occurred of which our last chapter makes mention, and an account of +which, now, Massingbred proceeded to give his host, neither exaggerating +nor diminishing in the slightest particular any portion of the event. +He even repressed his habitual tendency to sarcasm, and spoke of his +antagonist seriously and respectfully. “It was quite clear,” said he, +in conclusion, “that he did n't know I was a gentleman, and consequently +never anticipated the consequence of a blow.” + +“And he struck you?” broke in Magennis, violently. + +“You shall see for yourself,” said Jack, smiling, as, untying the +handkerchief, he exhibited a deep cut on his forehead, from which the +blood still continued to ooze. + +“Let Joan doctor you; she's wonderful at a cut. She has something they +call Beggarman's Balsam. I 'll fetch her.” And without waiting for a +reply he left the room. The young woman speedily after appeared with +some lint and a small pot of ointment, proceeding to her office with +all the quiet assiduity of a practised hand, and a gentleness that few +“regulars” could vie with. Her skill was more than recompensed by the +few muttered words of praise Magennis bestowed, as he grumbled out, half +to himself: “Old Cahill himself could n't do it better. I 'd back her +for a bandage against the College of Surgeons. Ain't ye easier now?--to +be sure you are. She 's good for _that_ if she is for nothing else!” + And even this much of eulogy made her bosom heave proudly, and brought a +flush of joy over her cheek that was ecstasy itself. + +[Illustration: 218] + +The world is not deficient in acts of kindness, benevolence, and +good-will. There is a large fountain of these running in ten thousand +rills. But how many more might there not be,--how much of this wealth +might there not be dispensed, and nobody living one jot the poorer! How +many are there toiling away in obscurity and narrow fortune, to whom one +single word of praise--one chance syllable of encouragement--would be +life's blood! What sunken cheeks and lacklustre eyes would glow and +gladden again by even a look of sympathy, withheld from no lack of +kindliness, but mere want of thought! Oh ye who have station and fame, +genius or greatness, bethink ye that these gifts are never higher +than when they elevate the humble and cheer the lowly, and there is no +physician like him who animates the drooping heart, and gives new vigor +to wearied faculties and failing energy. Joan was made happy by the +two or three words of grateful thanks Massingbred addressed to her, and +stole quietly away, leaving the two companions once more alone. + +If there was any incident in life participation in which could convey +intense gratification to Magennis, it was that sort of difference or +misunderstanding that might lead to a duel. Whenever the affair offered +no other alternative, his delight was unbounded. There were, it was +rumored events in his own early life which would imply that the +taste for mortal combat extended only to cases where his friends were +concerned, and had no selfish application whatever. Of these we know +nothing; nor, indeed, have we any information to convey regarding him, +save by chance and stray words dropped by himself in the unguarded +hours of after-dinner converse. There are, however, many who like the +subordinate parts in this world's comedy,--who would rather be best man +than bridegroom, and infinitely prefer performing second to principal. + +We are not, however, going into the inquiry as to the cause; enough when +we repeat that this was Magennis's great passion, and these were the +kind of events for whose conduct and management he believed himself to +possess the most consummate tact and ability. + +“You 're in luck, Massingbred,” cried he, as the other concluded his +recital,--“you're in luck, sir, to have for your friend one that, though +I say it myself, has n't his equal for a case like this in the three +kingdoms. It was I, sir, took out Cahill when he shot Major Harris, of +the Fusiliers. I handled him that morning in a way that made the English +officers confess there was no chance against us! A duel seems an easy +thing to arrange. You 'd say that any fool could put up two men, twelve +or even ten paces asunder, and tell them to blaze away; and if that +was all there was in it, it would be simple enough. But consider for +a minute the real case, and just remember how much the nature of the +ground, whether level or uneven, has to do with it; what's behind,--if a +wall, or trees, or only sky; the state of the light; how the sun stands; +whether there 's wind, and what way it's coming. These are not all. +There's the pistols,--how they _'throw,'_ and with what charge; and then +there 's the size of your man. Ay, Massingbred, and let me tell you, you +now see before you the man that invented the 'invulnerable position.'” + +“By Jove! that's a most valuable fact to me just now,” said Jack, +helping himself to a fresh tumbler. “I 'm glad you have not been +retained by the other side.” + +“The 'invulnerable position'!” continued Magennis, perfectly heedless +of the other's remark; while, taking up the poker, he stalked out to +the middle of the room, drawing himself up to his full height, and +presenting, as though with a pistol,--“Do you see what I mean?” cried +he. + +“I can't say I do,” said Jack, hesitatingly. + +“I thought not,” rejoined the other, proudly; “nobody ever did that was +n't 'out' often. Pay attention now, and I 'll explain it. My head, +you perceive, is carried far behind my right shoulder, so as to be +completely protected by my pistol-hand and the pistol. I say the pistol, +because it has been proved scientifically that the steadiest eye that +ever fired never could aim at the antagonist's pistol. Morris Crofton +practised it for eight years in his own garden; and though he did +succeed, he told me that for practical purposes it was no use. Now we +come to the neck, and you may observe the bend of my elbow. Ay, that +little angle that nobody would remark masks the jugular arteries, and +all the other vital nerves in that part. John Toler used to say that +the head and neck was like the metropolis, and that a shot elsewhere was +only like a 'row' in the provinces; and a very true and wise remark it +was. Not that I neglect the trunk,” added he, proudly; “for you see +how I stand,--three-quarters of the back towards the enemy so as not to +expose the soft parts. As for the legs,” cried he, contemptuously, “let +them crack at them as long as they like.” + +“And that 's the 'invulnerable position,'” said Massing-bred; with less +enthusiasm, however, than the discovery might seem to warrant. + +“It is, sir; and if it was n't for it there 's many a strapping fellow +walking about this day-that would be lying with a marble counterpane +over him. Billy Welsh, that fought Brian of Deanstown, was the first man +I ever 'put up' in it. Billy had a slight crick of the neck, and could +n't get the head far enough round to the right, and the ball took him +in the bridge of the nose, and carried that feature clean off, but never +damaged him in any other respect whatever!” + +“I must say that the loss was quite sufficient for a man who had the +benefit of the 'invulnerable position,'” said Massingbred, quietly. + +“He thinks nothing of it. A chap in the Crow Street Theatre made him a +better nose than ever he had, out of wax, I believe; and he has a winter +one, with a blush of red on it, to make believe it was cold; and they +tell me you 'd never discover it was n't his own.” + +Magennis had now resumed his place at table, and seemed bent on making +up for lost time by giving double measure of whiskey to his punch. + +“You say that he's to be in Oughterard to-night; well, with the blessing +of the Virgin,”--an invocation he invariably applied to every act +of dubious morality,--“we 'll be with him before he's out of bed +to-morrow!” + +“I wish he had not given me a blow,” said Jack, musingly. “He seemed +such a stout-hearted, spirited old fellow, I'm really grieved to quarrel +with him.” + +“I'm glad that there's nobody to hear them words but myself, Mr. +Massingbred,” said the other, with all the slowness and deliberation of +incipient drunkenness; “I'm rejoiced, sir, that it's in the confidential +intercourse of friendly--friendly--communication--that the son of my old +and valued friend--Moore Massingbred--used expressions like that.” + +Jack started with amazement at this speech; he had not the slightest +suspicion till that moment that Magennis and his father had ever known +each other, or even met. A very little patience, however, on his part +served to solve the difficulty; for he discovered that one of the +peculiarities of this stage of his friend's ebriety was to fancy +himself the intimate and associate of any one whose name he had ever +heard mentioned. + +“Ay, sir, them's words your father would never have uttered. I was with +him in his first blaze. 'Moore,' says I, 'have n't you a pair of black +breeches?'--he wore a pair of web 'tights' of a light pattern--What are +you laughing at, sir?” cried he, sternly, and striking the table with +his clenched knuckles, till the glasses all rang on it. + +“I was laughing at my father's costume,” said Jack, who really told +the truth; such a portrait of his parent's appearance being manifestly +unlike anything he had ever imagined. + +“And the worse manners yours, sir,” rejoined Magennis, rudely. “I' ll +not suffer any man to laugh at an old friend--and--and--schoolfellow!” + +It was with the very greatest difficulty that Jack could restrain +himself at this peroration, which indignation--the same, probably, that +creates poets--had suggested. He had, however, tact enough to preserve +his gravity, whilst he assured his companion that no unfilial sentiment +had any share in his thoughts. + +“So far, so well,” said Magennis, who now helped himself to the whiskey, +unadulterated by any water; “otherwise, sir, it's not Lieutenant +Magennis, of the--9th Foot, would handle you on the ground to-morrow!” + +“So, then, you've served, Mac? Why, you never broke that to me before!” + +“Broke!” cried the other, with a voice shrill from passion, while he +made an effort to rise from his chair, and sunk back again,--“broke; who +dares to say I was broke? I left the scoundrels myself. I shook the +dust off my feet after them. There never was a court-martial about it. +Never--never!” To the deep crimson that suffused his face before, there +now succeeded an almost death-like pallor, and Massingbred really felt +terrified at the change. Some heart-rending recollection seemed suddenly +to have cleared his brain, routing in an instant all the effects of +intoxication, and restoring him to sobriety and sorrow together. + +“Ay,” said he, in a low, broken voice, and still speaking to himself, +“that finished me! I never held my head up again! Who could, after such +a business? I came here, Mr. Massingbred,” continued he, but addressing +his guest in a tone of deep respect,--“I came back here a ruined man, +and not eight-and-twenty! You see me now, a dirty, drunken sot, not +better dressed nor better mannered than the commonest fellow on the +road, and yet I'm a gentleman born and bred, well nurtured, and well +educated. I took a college degree and went into the army.” He paused, as +if trying to gather courage to go on; the effort was more than he could +accomplish, and, as the heavy tears stole slowly down his cheeks, the +agony of the struggle might be detected. Half mechanically he seized +the decanter of whiskey and poured the tumbler nearly full; but Jack +good-humoredly stretched out his hand towards the glass, and said, +“Don't drink, Mac; there's no head could stand it.” + +“You think so, boy,” cried he, with a saucy smile. “Little you know the +way we live in the West, here;” and he tossed off the liquor before the +other could stop him. The empty glass had scarcely been replaced on the +table, when all the former signs of drunkenness had come back again, and +in his bloodshot eyes and swollen veins might be seen the very type of +passionate debauch. + +“Not ask me to their houses!” cried he, hoarse with passion. “Who wants +them? Not invite me! Did I ever seek them? The dirty, mean spalpeens, +don't I know the history of every one of them? Could n't I expose them +from one end of the county to the other? Who 's Blake of Harris-town? He +'s the son of Lucky Magarry, the pedler. You don't believe me. I had +it from Father Cole himself. Lucky was hanged at Ennis. 'Ye want a +confession!' says Lucky, when he came out on the drop; 'ye want a +confession! Well, I suppose there's no use in keeping anything back +now, for ye 'll hang me at any rate, and so here it's for you. It was I +murdered Mr. Shea, and there was nobody helping me at all. I did it all +myself with a flail; and be the same token, it 's under Mark Bindon's +tombstone this minute. There now, the jury may be azy in their minds, +and the judge, and the hangman, too, if he cares about it. As for his +honor the high sheriff,' said he, raising his voice, 'he 's a fine +man, God bless him, and the county may be proud of him; for it was he +ferreted out all about this business! And faix, notwithstanding all, I +'m proud of him myself, for he 's my own son!' And as he said that he +dropped on his knees and cried out that he might never see glory if +there was a word of lie in anything he said then! So that's what Blake +got for his zeal for justice!” + +And as Magennis finished, he burst into a wild, fiendish laugh, and +said,-- + +“There 's the country gentry--there 's the people won't know Magennis +and his wife!--ay, sir, his lawful, married wife! Let me see that you +or any other man will deny it, or refuse to treat her as becomes her +station.--Joan! Joan!” shouted he, striking the poker violently against +the chimney; and with hot haste and intense anxiety the poor girl rushed +into the room the moment after. “Sit down here, ma'am,” said Magennis, +rising, and placing a chair for her beside his own, with an affectation +of courtesy that savored of mockery,--“sit down, I say,” cried he, +stamping his foot passionately. “That's my wife, sir! No man that sits +at _my_ board shall behave to her as anything else.” + +“I have ever treated her with respect,” said Massingbred, “and shall +always continue to do so.” + +“And it's better for you to do so,” said the other, fiercely, the +bullying spirit rising on what he deemed the craven submission of his +guest. + +Meanwhile the girl sat trembling with terror, not knowing what the scene +portended, or how it was to end. + +“The herd's daughter, indeed! No, sir, Mrs. Magennis, of Barnagheela, +that's her name and title!” + +At these words the poor girl, overcome with joy and gratitude, fell +down upon her knees before him, and, clasping his hand, covered it with +kisses. + +“Is n't that pretty breeding!” cried Magennis, violently. “Get up, +ma'am, and sit on your chair like a lady. The devil a use in it, do what +you will, say what you will,--the bad 'drop' is in them; and whatever +becomes of you in life, Massingbred, let me give you this advice,--never +marry beneath you!” + +Jack contrived at this juncture to signal to the girl to step away; +and by appearing to attend with eagerness to Magennis, he prevented his +remarking her exit. + +“A man 's never really ruined till then,” continued he, slowly, and +evidently sobering again as he went on. “Friends fall away from you, and +your companions are sure to be fellows with something against them! +You begin by thinking you 're doing a grand and a courageous thing! You +string up your resolution to despise the world, and, take my word for +it, the world pays you off at last. Ay,” said he, after a long pause, in +which his features settled down into an expression of deep sorrow, and +his voice quivered with emotion,--“ay, and I 'll tell you something +worse than all,--you revenge all your disappointment on the poor girl +that trusted you! and you break _her_ heart to try and heal your own!” + +With these last words he buried his head between his hands and sobbed +fearfully. + +“Leave me now,--leave me alone,” said he, without lifting his head. +“Good-night--good-night to you!” + +Massingbred arose without a word, and, taking a candle, ascended to his +chamber, his last thoughts about his host being very unlike those with +which he had first regarded him. From these considerations he turned +to others more immediately concerning himself; nor could he conquer his +misgivings that Magennis was a most unhappy selection for a friend in +such an emergency. + +“But then I really am without a choice,” said he to himself. “Joe +Nelligan, perhaps, might--but no, he would have been infinitely more +unfit than the other. At all events, Nelligan has himself severed the +friendship that once existed between us.” And so he wandered on to +thoughts of his former companionship with him. Regretful and gloomy +enough were they, as are all memories of those in whose hearts we once +believed we had a share, and from which we cannot reconcile ourselves to +the exclusion. + +“He had not the manliness to meet me when I had become aware of his real +station! What a poor-spirited fellow! Just as if I cared what or who his +father was! _My_ theory is, Jack Massingbred can afford to know any man +he pleases! Witness the roof that now shelters me, and the character of +him who is my host!” + +It was a philosophy he built much upon, for it was a form of self-love +that simulated a good quality, many of his acquaintances saying, “At all +events, there 's no snobbery about Massingbred; he 'll know, and even +be intimate with, anybody.” Nor did the deception only extend to others. +Jack himself fancied he was an excellent fellow,--frank, generous, and +open-hearted. + +It is a very strange fact--and fact it certainly is--that the men who +reason most upon their own natures, look inwardly at their own minds, +and scrutinize most their own motives, are frequently the least natural +of all mankind! This self-inquiry is such thorough self-deception that +he who indulges in it often becomes an actor. As for Massingbred, there +was nothing real about him save his egotism! Gifted with very good +abilities, aided by a strong “vitality,” he had great versatility; but +of all powers, this same plastic habit tends most to render a man +artificial. + +Now, his present difficulty was by no means to his taste. He did not +like his “quarrel;” he liked less the age and station of his adversary; +and least of all was he pleased with the character of his “friend.” It +was said of Sheridan, that when consulted about the music of his operas, +he only asked, “Will it grind?”--that is, would it be popular enough for +a street organ, and become familiar to every ear? So Jack Massingbred +regarded each event in life by the test of how it would “tell,” in what +wise could a newspaper report it, and how would it read in the Clubs? He +fancied himself discussing the adventure at “White's,” and asking, “Can +any one say what Massingbred's row was about? Was he poaching?--or how +came he there? Was there a woman in it? And who is his friend Magennis?” + In thoughts like these he passed hour after hour, walking his room from +end to end, and waiting for morning. + +At length he bethought him how little likely it was that Magennis would +remember anything whatever of the transaction, and that his late debauch +might obliterate all memory of the affair. “What if this were to be +the case, and that we were to arrive too late at Oughterard? A pretty +version would the papers then publish to the world!” Of all possible +casualties this was the very worst; and the more he reflected on it, the +more probable did it seem. “He is the very fellow to wake up late in the +afternoon, rub his eyes, and declare he had forgotten the whole thing.” + +“This will never do!” muttered he to himself; and at once determined +that he would make an endeavor to recall his friend to consciousness, +and come to some arrangement for the approaching meeting. Massingbred +descended the stairs with noiseless steps, and gently approaching the +door of the sitting-room, opened it. + +Magennis was asleep, his head resting upon the table, and his heavy +breathing denoting how deeply he slumbered. On a low stool at his feet +sat Joan, pale and weary-looking, her cheeks still marked with recent +tears, and the dark impression of what seemed to have been a blow +beneath her eye. Jack approached her cautiously, and asked if it were +his custom to pass the night thus. + +“Sometimes, when he 's tired--when he has anything on his mind,” replied +she, in some confusion, and averting her head so as to escape notice. + +“And when he awakes,” said Jack, “he will be quite refreshed, and his +head all clear again?” + +“By coorse he will!” said she, proudly. “No matter what he took of a +night, nobody ever saw the signs of it on him the next morning.” + +“I did not ask out of any impertinent curiosity,” continued Massingbred; +“but we have, both of us, some rather important business to-morrow in +Oughterard. We ought to be there at an early hour.” + +“I know,” said she, interrupting. “He bid me bring down these;” and +she pointed to a case of pistols lying open beside her, and in cleaning +which she had been at the moment engaged. “I brought the wrong ones, +first.” Here she stammered out something, and grew crimson over her +whole face; then suddenly recovering herself, said, “I did n't know it +was the 'Terries' he wanted.” + +“The 'Terries'?” repeated Jack. + +“Yes, sir. It was these Terry Callaghan shot the two gentlemen with, +the same morning, at Croghaglin,--father and son they were!” And saying +these words in a voice of the most perfect unconcern possible, she took +up a flannel rag and began to polish the lock of one of the weapons. + +“They 're handsome pistols,” said Jack, rather amused with her remark. + +“They 're good, and that's better!” replied she, gravely. “That one in +your hand has seven double crosses on the stock and nine single.” + +“The seven were killed on the ground, I suppose?” + +A short nod of assent was her reply. + +“Such little events are not unfrequent down here, then?” + +“Anan!” said she, not understanding his question. + +Jack quickly perceived that he had not taken sufficient account of +Joan's limited acquaintance with language, and said,-- + +“They often fight in these parts?” + +“Ayeh! not now,” replied she, in a half-deploring tone. “My father +remembers twenty duels for one that does be nowadays.” + +“A great change, indeed.” + +“Some say it's all for the better,” resumed she, doubtfully. “But +hush,--he's stirring; leave him quiet, and I 'll call you when he's +ready.” + +“And I can depend--” + +“To be sure you can. He forgets many a thing; but no man living can +say that he ever misremembered a duel.” And with these words, in a low +whisper, she motioned Massingbred to the door. + +Jack obeyed in silence, and, ascending to his room, lay down on the bed. +He determined to pass the interval before morning in deep thought and +self-examination; but, somehow, he had scarcely laid his head on the +pillow when he fell off into a heavy sleep, sound and dreamless. + +The day was just breaking when he was aroused by a somewhat rude shake, +and a voice saying,-- + +“Come, up with you. We 've a sharp ride before us!” + +Jack started up, and in an instant recalled all the exigencies of the +hour. + +“I have sent the 'tools' forward by a safe hand,” continued Magennis; +“and Joan has a cup of tea ready for us below stairs. So lose no time +now, and let us be off.” + +The humble meal that awaited them was soon despatched, and they were +speedily mounted on the pair of mountain ponies Magennis had provided, +and whose equipments, even in the half-light of the morning, +rather shocked Mas-singbred's notions of propriety,--one of his +stirrup-leathers being a foot shorter than the other, while an old +worsted bell-rope formed the snaffle-rein of his bridle. + +The road, too, was rugged and precipitous, and many a stumble and +scramble had they in the uncertain light; while the swooping rain +dashed violently against them, and effectually precluded all thought of +conversation. Two hours, that seemed like ten, brought them at length +upon the highroad; after which, by a brisk canter of forty minutes, they +reached Oughterard. + +“Let us dismount here,” said Jack, as they gained the outskirts of the +town, not fancying to make a public appearance on his humble steed. + +“Why so?” answered Magennis. “It's ashamed of the pony you are! Oh, for +the matter of that, don't distress yourself; we 're too well used to +them in these parts to think them ridiculous.” + +There was a soreness and irritation in his tone which Jack quickly +remarked, and as quickly tried to obviate, by some good-natured remark +about the good qualities of the animals; but Magennis heard him without +attention, and seemed entirely immersed in his own thoughts. + +“Turn in there, to your left,” cried he, suddenly, and they wheeled into +an arched gateway that opened upon the stable-yard of the inn. Early +as it was, the place was full of bustle and movement; for it was the +market-day, and the farmers were already arriving. + +Carts, cars, gigs, and a dozen other nameless vehicles crowded the spot, +with kicking ponies and mules of malicious disposition; grooming and +shoeing and unharnessing went on, with a noise and merriment that was +perfectly deafening; and Massingbred, as he threaded his way through the +crowd, soon perceived how little notice he was likely to attract in such +an assembly. Magennis soon dismounted, and having given directions about +the beasts, led Jack into the house, and up a narrow, creaking stair +into a small room, with a single window, and a bed in one corner. “This +is where I always put up,” said he, laying down his hat and whip, “and +it will do well enough for the time we 'll want it.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. “A CHALLENGE” + +“He 's here; he arrived last night,” said Magennis, as he entered the +room after a short exploring tour through the stables, the kitchen, and +every other quarter where intelligence might be come at. “He came alone; +but the major of the detachment supped with him, and that looks like +business!” + +“The earlier you see him the better, then,” said Mas-singbred. + +“I'll just go and get my beard off,” said he, passing his hand across a +very grizzly stubble, “and I'll be with him in less than half an hour. +There's only a point or two I want to be clear about. Before he struck +you, did you gesticulate, or show any intention of using violence?” + +“None. I have told you that I caught his horse by the bridle, but that +was to save him from falling back.” + +“Ah, that was indiscreet, at all events.” + +“Would n't it have been worse to suffer him to incur a severe danger +which I might have prevented?” + +“I don't think so; but we'll not discuss the point now. There was a +blow?” + +“That there was,” said Jack, pointing to the spot where a great strap of +sticking-plaster extended across his forehead. + +“And he seemed to understand at once that reparation was to be made for +it?” + +“The suggestion came from himself, frankly and speedily.” + +“Well, it's pretty evident we have to deal with a gentleman!” said +Magennis, “and that same's a comfort; so I'll leave you now for a short +time: amuse yourself as well as you can, but don't quit the room.” And +with this caution Magennis took his departure, and set off in search of +Mr. Repton's chamber. + +“Where are you bringing the mutton chops, Peter?” said he to a waiter, +who, with a well-loaded tray of eatables, was hastening along the +corridor. + +“To the ould Counsellor from Dublin, sir. He's break-fastin' with the +Major.” + +“And that's his room, No. 19?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“They 're merry, at all events,” said Magennis, as a burst of hearty +laughter was heard from within the chamber. + +“'T is just that they are, indeed,” replied Peter. “The Counsellor does +be telling one story after another, till you 'd think he 'd no end +of them. He began last night at supper, and I could scarce change the +plates for laughin'.” + +Muttering some not very intelligible observation to himself, Magennis +passed down the stairs, and issuing into the street, wended his way to +the barber's. + +If the Oughterard Figaro had not as brilliant a vocation as his +colleague of Seville, his occupations were scarcely less multifarious, +for he kept the post-office, was clerk at petty sessions, collected +the parish cess, presided over “the pound,” besides a vast number of +inferior duties. Whether it was the result of a natural gift, or by the +various information of his official life, Hosey Lynch was regarded in +his native town as a remarkably shrewd man, and a good opinion on a +number of subjects. + +He was a short, decrepit old fellow, with an enormous head of curly +black hair, which he seemed to cultivate with all the address of his +craft; probably intending it as a kind of advertisement of his skill, +displaying as it did all the resources of his handiwork. But even above +this passion was his ardor for news,--news political, social, legal, or +literary; whatever might be the topic, it always interested him, and +it was his especial pride to have the initiative of every event that +stirred the hearts of the Oughterard public. + +The small den in which he performed his functions occupied the corner +of the street, giving a view in two directions, so that Hosey, while +cutting and curling, never was obliged to lose sight of that world +without, in whose doings he felt so strong an interest. In the one +easy-chair of this sanctum was Magennis now disposed, waiting for +Mr. Lynch, who had just stepped down to “the pound,” to liberate +the priest's pig. Nor had he long to wait, for Hosey soon made his +appearance, and slipping on a very greasy-looking jean-jacket, proceeded +to serve him. + +“The top of the morning to you, Captain,”--he always styled him by the +title,--“it's a rare pleasure to see you so early in town; but it will +be a bad market to-day--cut and curled, Captain?” + +[Illustration: 232] + +“No; shaved!” said Magennis, bluntly. + +“And shaved you shall be, Captain,--and beautifully shaved, too, for I +have got an excellent case from Lamprey's; they came yesterday,--came +with the writ against Jones Creegan.” + +“At whose suit?” + +“Mrs. Miles Creegan, the other brother's widow,” said Hosey, lathering +away and talking with breathless rapidity. “There was a clause in old +Sam's will, that if ever Tom, the chap that died at Demerara--you'd like +more off the whiskers, it's more military. It was only yesterday +Major Froode remarked to me what a soldierlike-looking man was Captain +Magennis.” + +“Is he in command of the detachment?” + +“He is in his Majesty's--1st Foot--the 'Buccaneers,' they used to be +called; I suppose you never heard why?” + +“No, nor don't want to hear. What kind of a man is the Major?” + +“He 's a smart, well-made man, with rather a haughty look,” said Hosey, +drawing himself up, and seeming to imply that there was a kind of +resemblance between them. + +“Is he English or Irish?” + +“Scotch, Captain,--Scotch; and never gives more than fivepence for a cut +and curl, pomatum included.--No letters, Mrs. Cronin,” cried he, raising +up the movable shutter of the little window; then bending down his ear +he listened to some whispered communication from that lady, after +which he shut the panel, and resumed his functions. “She 's at law with +O'Reilly about the party wall. There's the Major now going down to the +barracks, and I wonder who's the other along with him;” and Hosey rushed +to the door to find some clew to the stranger. In less than a quarter +of a minute he was back again, asking pardon for absence, and informing +Magennis “that the man in plain clothes was a Dublin counsellor, that +arrived the night before. I think I can guess what he's here for.” + +“What is it?” cried Magennis, eagerly. + +“There's an election coming on, and the Martins expect a +contest.--Nothing for you, Peter,” said he, to an applicant for a letter +outside. “He's looking to be made barony constable these four years, and +he 's as much chance as I have of being--what shall I say?--” + +“Are you done?” asked Magennis, impatiently. + +“One minute more, sir--the least touch round the chin,--and, as I was +saying, Captain, the Martins will lose the borough.” + +“Who thinks so besides you?” asked Magennis, gruffly. + +“It is, I may say, the general opinion; the notion current in-- There +'s Miss Martin herself,” cried he, running to the window. “Well, really, +she handles them ponies elegant!” + +“Does she come often into town?” + +“I don't think I saw her in Oughterard--let me see when it was--it's two +years--no, but it's not far off--it's more than--” + +“Are you done?” said Magennis, impatiently. “I told you that I was +pressed for time this morning.” + +“You're finished now, Captain,” said Hosey, presenting him with a small +cracked looking-glass. “That's what I call a neat chin and a beautiful +sweep of whisker. Thank you, Captain. It's a pleasure and an honor--not +to say that it's--” + +Magennis did not wait for the peroration, but striding hastily out of +the little shop, issued into the street that led to the inn. On arriving +there, he heard that Mr. Rep-ton had gone out, leaving word that he +would be found at Major Froode's quarters. Thither Magennis now repaired +with all the solemn importance befitting his mission. + +As he sent in his name, he could overhear the short colloquy that passed +within, and perceived that Repton was about to retire; and now the +servant ushered him into the presence of a smart, light-whiskered little +man, with a pair of shrewd gray eyes, and a high forehead. + +“A brother officer, I perceive, sir,” said he, looking at the card, +whereupon the title Captain was inscribed; “pray take a chair.” + +“You anticipate the reason of this visit, Major Froode,” said the other, +with some degree of constraint, as though the preliminaries were the +reverse of pleasant to him. The Major bowed, and Magennis went on: “I +suppose, then, I'm to treat with you as the friend of Mr. Valentine +Repton?” + +“And you are Mr. Massingbred's?” said the Major, answering the question +with another. + +“I have that honor, sir,” said Magennis, pompously; “and now, sir, how +soon can it come off?” + +“Don't you imagine, Captain Magennis, that a little quiet discussion +of the question at issue between two old soldiers, like you and myself, +might possibly be advisable? Is there not a chance that our united +experience might not suggest an amicable arrangement of this business?” + +“Quite out of the question,--utterly, totally impossible!” said +Magennis, sternly. + +“Then perhaps I lie under some misconception,” said the Major, +courteously. + +“There was a blow, sir!--a blow!” said Magennis, in the same stern tone. + +“I opine that everything that occurred was purely accidental,--just hear +me out,--that a hasty word and a hurried gesture, complicated with the +impatient movement of a horse--” + +A long whistle from Magennis interrupted the speech, and the Major, +reddening to the very top of his high forehead, said,-- + +“Sir, this is unbecoming,--are you aware of it?” + +“I'm quite ready for anything when this is settled,” said Magennis, but +with less composure than he desired to assume. “What I meant was, that +for a blow there is but one reparation.” + +“Doubtless, if the injury admit of no explanation,” said the Major, +calmly; “but in that lies the whole question. Consider two things, +Captain Magennis: first of all, the equivocal appearance of _your_ +friend, the age and standing of _mine_.” + +“By Jove! you'll kill me in trying to save my life,” said Repton, +bursting into the room. “I didn't want to play eavesdropper, Froode, +but these thin partitions are only soundboards for the voice. This +gentleman,” added he, turning to Magennis, “is perfectly correct. There +was a blow; and a blow has only one consequence, and that one I 'm +ready for. There may be, for aught I know, twenty ways of settling +these matters in London or at the clubs, but we 're old-fashioned in our +notions in Ireland here; and I don't think that even when we pick up new +fashions that we 're much the better for them, so that if your friend is +here, Captain, and ready--” + +“Both, sir; here and ready!” + +“Then so am I; and now for the place. Come, Froode, you don't know +Ireland as well as I do; just humor me this time, and whenever I get +into a scrape in Scotland you shall have it all your own way. Eh, +Captain, is n't that fair?” + +“Spoke like a trump!” muttered Magennis. + +“For _me_, did you say?” said Repton, taking a letter from the servant, +who had just entered the room. + +“Yes, sir; and the groom says there's an answer expected.” + +“The devil take it, I 've forgotten my spectacles. Froode, just tell me +what's this about, and who it comes from.” + +“It's Miss Martin's hand,” said Froode, breaking the seal and running +over the contents. “Oh, I perceive,” said he; “they're afraid you have +taken French leave of them at Cro' Martin, and she has driven into town +to carry you back again.” + +“That comes of my leaving word at the little post-office to forward my +letters to Dublin if not asked for to-morrow. Take a pen, Froode, +and write a couple of lines for me; say that a very urgent call--a +professional call--will detain me here to-day, but that if not back by +dinner-time--Captain Magennis thinks it not likely,” added he, turning +towards him as he sat, with a very equivocal expression, half grin, half +sneer, upon his features--“that I 'll be with them at breakfast next +morning,” resumed Repton, boldly. “Make some excuse for my not answering +the note myself,--whatever occurs to you. And so, sir,” said he, turning +to Magennis, “your friend's name is Massingbred. Any relation to Colonel +Moore Massingbred?” + +“His son,--his only son, I believe.” + +“How strange! I remember the father in the 'House'--I mean the Irish +House--five-and-thirty years ago; he was always on the Government +benches. It was of him Parsons wrote those doggerel lines,-- + + 'A man without a heart or head, + Who seldom thought, who never read, + A witty word who never said, + One at whose board none ever fed, + Such is the Colonel M--g--b--d.' + +He could n't call him a coward, though; for when they went out--which +they did--Massingbred's manner on the ground was admirable.” + +“Will that do?” said Froode, showing a few lines he had hastily jotted +down. + +“I can't read a word of it, but of course it will,” said he; “and then, +sir,” added he, addressing Magennis, “the sooner we place ourselves at +your disposal the better.” + +Froode whispered something in Repton' ear, and by his manner seemed as +if remonstrating with him, when the other said aloud,-- + +“We 're in Ireland, Major; and, what's more, we 're in Galway, as +Macleweed said once to a prisoner, 'With a Yorkshire jury, sir, I 'd +hang you. Your sentence now is to pay five marks to the King, and find +bail for your good behavior.' You see what virtue there is in locality.” + +“There's a neat spot about two miles off, on the road to Maum,” said +Magennis to the Major. “We could ride slowly forward, and you might keep +us in view.” + +“In what direction did you say?” + +“Take the second turn out of the market-place till you pass the baker's +shop, then to the left, and straight on afterwards. You can't miss it.” + +“Stop a moment, sir,” said Froode to Magennis, as he moved towards the +door; “one word, if you please. It is distinctly understood that I have +been overruled in this business,--that, in fact, I have submitted--” + +“Your point has been reserved,” said Repton, laughing, while he led him +away; and Magennis at the same moment took his departure. + +It was, indeed, with no slight feeling of triumph that thia gentleman +now hastened back to the Martin Arms. Never did a great diplomatist +experience more pride in the conclusion of some crowning act of +negotiation than did he in the accomplishment of this affair. + +“There 's many a man,” said he to himself, “who 'd have accepted an +apology here. There's many a man might have let himself be embarrassed +by the circumstances; for, certainly, the taking hold of the bridle was +an awkward fact, and if the Major was a cute fellow he 'd have made a +stand upon it. I must say that the Counsellor showed no backwardness; he +comes of that fine old stock we used to have before the Union.” + +And with this profound reflection he entered the room where Massingbred +sat awaiting him. + +“It's all settled. We're to meet at the Priest's Gap within an hour,” + said Magennis, with the air of a man who had acquitted himself cleverly. +“And though I say it that should n't, if you were in other hands this +morning you would n't have got your shot.” + +“I always relied implicitly upon your skill!” said Massingbred, humoring +his vanity. + +“Have you anything to arrange,--a letter or so to write; for I'll step +down to Dr. Hearkins to tell him to follow us?” + +Massingbred made no reply as the other left the room. Once more alone, +he began to think gravely over his present situation. Nor could all his +habitual levity steel him against the conviction that five minutes of +common-sense talk might arrange a dispute which now promised a serious +ending. “However,” thought he, “we are not in the land where such +differences admit of amicable solution, and there's no help for it.” + +A sharp tap at the door startled him from these musings, and before he +could well reply to it Daniel Nelligan entered the room, and advanced +towards him with an air of mingled ease and constraint. + +“I hope you 'll forgive me, Mr. Massingbred,” he began. “I feel certain +that you will at some future day, at least, for what I 'm going to do.” + Here he stopped and drew a long breath, as if not knowing in what terms +to continue. Massingbred handed him a chair, and took one in front of +him without speaking. + +“I know what brought you here to-day; I am aware of it all.” + +He paused, and waited for the other to speak; but Massingbred sat +without offering a word, and evidently relying on his own social tact to +confound and embarrass his visitor. + +“I know, sir, that you are likely to regard my interference as +impertinent,” resumed Nelligan; “but I trust that the friend of my son, +Joe--” + +“I must set you right upon one point, at least, Mr. Nelligan,” said +Massingbred, with an easy smile. “If you be only as accurate in +your knowledge of my affairs as you are with respect to my private +friendships, this visit has certainly proceeded from some misconception. +Your son and I were friends once upon a time. We are so no longer!” + +“I never heard of this. I never knew you had quarrelled!” + +“We have not, sir. We have not even met. The discourtesy he has shown me +since my arrival here--his avoidance of me, too marked to be explained +away--is an offence. The only misfortune is that it is one which can be +practised with impunity.” + +“My son asks for none such,” said Dan, fiercely. “And if your +observation is meant for an insult--” He stopped suddenly, as if checked +by something within, and then said, but in a voice full and measured, +“I'm magistrate of this town, sir, and I come here upon information that +has reached me of your intentions to commit a breach of the peace.” + +“My dear Mr. Nelligan,” began Massingbred, in his most seductive of +manners,--but the other had already witnessed the rupture of the +only tie which bound them, the supposed friendship between Joe and +Massingbred, and cared nothing for all the blandishments he could +bestow,--“my dear Mr. Nelligan, you cannot, surely, suppose that a mere +stranger as I am in your county--scarcely ten days here--should have +been unfortunate enough to have incurred the animosity of any one.” + +“I hold here a statement, sir,” said Nelligan, sternly, “which, if you +please to pledge your honor to be incorrect--” + +“And this is Galway!” exclaimed Massingbred,--“this glorious land of +chivalrous sentiment of which we poor Englishmen have been hearing +to satiety! The Paradise of Point of Honor, then, turns out a very +commonplace locality, after all!” + +“I 'm proud to say that our county has another reputation than its old +one; not but--” and he added the words in some temper--“there are a few +left would like to teach you that its character was not acquired for +nothing.” + +“Well, well!” sighed Jack, as he closed his eyes, and appeared as +if indulging in a revery, “of all the mockeries I have lived to see +unmasked, this is the worst and meanest.” + +“I have not come here to listen to this, sir,” said Nelli-gan, +haughtily, as he arose. “I waited upon you, intending to accept your +solemn pledge, by word of honor, to commit no act hostile to the public +peace. Now, sir, I shall call upon you to give me the legal guarantee +for this security,--good and sufficient bail, and that within an hour!” + +“My dear Mr. Nelligan,” replied Massingbred, with all the quiet ease of +an unruffled temper, “I have not a single friend here, except yourself, +upon whom I could call in such an emergency. I am utterly unknown in +these parts; my very name unheard of before my arrival. If I _did_ by +any unhappy circumstance find myself in such an involvement as you speak +of, I solemnly assure you my first thought would be to address myself to +Mr. Nelligan.” + +The easy impertinence of this speech would have been perfectly +successful a short time previous, when Nelligan yet believed in the +close friendship with his son. It came now, however, too late, and the +old man listened to it with something bordering on anger. + +“Good and sufficient bail, sir,--yourself and two others,” repeated he, +slowly, and moving towards the door. + +“One word, I pray,” said Jack, rising, and speaking with more +earnestness and apparently with more sincerity. “I do not ask you any +details as to the circumstances you impute to me, but perhaps you would, +as a favor, tell me how this information has reached you?” + +“I will not, sir,” was the abrupt reply. + +“I am sure no friend of mine could have--” + +“It is no use, Mr. Massingbred; all your address will avail you nothing. +You shall not cross-examine _me!_” + +“You must, however, see, sir,” said Massingbred, “that unknown and +unfriended as I am here, bail is out of the question.” + +“The Bench will hear anything you desire to say on that subject,” said +Nelligan, coldly. “Good-morning to you.” + +And with these words he left the room, and descended into the street. + +The passionate warmth which Massingbred had so successfully controlled +in the presence of his visitor burst forth the first moment he found +himself alone. He inveighed against the country, the people, their +habits, and all belonging to them; cursed his own fate at being ever +thrown into such companionship; and wound up by resolving to submit to +any terms by which he might quit Galway forever, and forget, for the +rest of his days, that he had ever entered it. While he was yet fuming +in this fashion, the waiter entered and presented him with a very +dirty-looking note, fastened by two wafers, and inscribed “Most +private.” Massingbred opened it and read,-- + + “My dear Mr. M.,--We 're found out--I believe by Hosey + Lynch, where I dropped a bullet-mould this morning when he + was shaving me. At all events, we 're blown, and as I am + under £250 recognizances to keep the peace for three years, + I 'm off to the mountains till this passes over. I 'm sure, + from what I saw of the Counsellor, that he 'll keep himself + open to a proposal elsewhere. Meanwhile, there's nothing for + it but to give your bail and satisfy the blackguards--bad + luck to them--that spoiled the sport! You can go back to + the house when all's over, and I 'll return as soon as it is + safe for + + “Your sincere friend, + + “T. M.” + +Scarcely had he finished reading this epistle, when Major Froode +presented himself in his chamber, the door of which the waiter was yet +holding ajar. Having introduced himself, he briefly informed Massingbred +of his position as Mr. Repton's friend, and as briefly stated that +the Counsellor had been obliged to pledge himself against any hostile +intentions,--a step which, he foresaw, would also be required of him. +“For this reason I have come,” continued he, “to say that any assistance +I can be of to you is frankly at your service. I have learned that you +are a stranger here, and not likely to have many acquaintances.” + +“If they would be satisfied with my word,” began Jack. + +“Of course they will, and shall,” interrupted Froode; “and now, what is +there in the way of _amende_ my friend can make, for what he is prepared +to confess was a mere accident?” + +“The acknowledgment is ample. I ask for nothing beyond it,” said +Massingbred. “I am not quite certain but that my own conduct might +require a little explanation; but as your friend's vigor put matters +beyond negotiation at the time, we 'll not go back upon bygones.” + +“And now, sir,” burst in Repton, who had waited outside the door,--“and +now, sir, I beg you to accept the humblest apology I can tender for what +has happened. I 'm not as safe on my saddle as I used to be forty years +ago; and when the nag reared and threatened to fall back upon me, I am +ashamed to own that I neither saw nor cared what I struck at. I 'd have +said all this to you, Mr. Massingbred, after your fire, had we been +permitted to go the ground; and although there is some additional +humiliation in saying it here, I richly deserve all the pain it gives +me, for my want of temper. Will you give me your hand?” + +“With sincere pleasure,” said Jack, shaking him warmly and cordially +with both his own. + +“There 's but one thing more to be done,” said Repton. “These borough +magistrates, vulgar dogs as they are, will want you to give a bail bond. +Take no notice of them, but just drive out with me to Cro' Martin, and +we 'll settle it all there.” + +“I am not acquainted with Mr. Martin.” + +“But you shall be. He 'll be charmed to know you, and the place is worth +seeing. Come, you mustn't leave the West with only its barbarism in your +memory. You must carry away some other recollections.” + +The new turn affairs had just taken was by no means distasteful to +Massingbred. It promised another scene in that drama of life he loved +to fashion for himself, with new scenery, new actors, and new incidents. +“The Counsellor,” too, struck his fancy. There was a raciness in the old +man's manner, a genial cordiality, united with such palpable acuteness, +that he promised himself much pleasure in his society; and so he +accepted the proposal with all willingness, and pledged to hold himself +ready for his friend within an hour. + +Repton and the Major had but just left the room, when the former +re-entered it hurriedly, and said, “By the way, I must leave you to your +own guidance to find your road to Cro' Martin, for there's a young lady +below stairs has a lien upon me. You shall be presented to her when you +come out, and I promise you it will repay the journey.” + +“This must be the Mary Martin I 've been hearing of,” thought +Massingbred, when again alone; “and so the morning's work will probably +turn out better than I had anticipated.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. A COUNTRY-HOUSE + +When Massingbred arrived at Cro' Martin, he found Repton at the door +awaiting him. “I find,” said he, “there is little need of introducing +you here. Your father was an old acquaintance of Martin's; they sat +together for years in Parliament, and Lady Dorothea was related to +your family. But here he comes.” And Martin approached, with his hand +extended in cordial welcome. No one ever knew better how to do the +honors of his house, nor could throw more graceful courtesy into the +first steps of acquaintanceship. Massingbred, too, was well calculated +to appreciate this gift. He had a most intense esteem for “manner,” + and enjoyed even the necessity it imposed upon himself of exertion to +please. With sincere satisfaction was it that he accepted an invitation +to pass some days there, and at once despatched a servant to Magennis's +house for his trunks. + +The adventure of the morning was alluded to but once, and then in a +jocular strain, as an incident of no moment whatever; and Massingbred +retired to his room to dress for dinner, wondering within himself if he +should find the other members of the family as much to his liking as the +worthy host had been. + +A dinner-party was a rare event at Cro' Martin. The isolation in which +they lived was rarely broken by a visitor; and when, by rare +accident, some solitary stranger did present himself with a letter of +introduction, his stay was merely of a few hours. Now, however, the +company included, in addition to the family, Repton, Massingbred, and +Nelligan, besides Miss Henderson, who was on that day to appear at +dinner. The quondam college friends had not met; neither had Miss +Martin ever seen her governess; so that there was no small degree of +anticipation as to how such elements would harmonize and agree. + +When Massingbred entered the drawing-room, he found Miss Henderson there +alone; and at once believing she could be no other than Miss Martin, +he proceeded to introduce himself in the best manner he could. Her +reception was perfect in ease and self-possession, and they soon found +themselves engaged in a lively discussion as to the scenery, the people +and their habits, of which they both appeared to have a very similar +appreciation. Lady Dorothea next made her appearance; and, advancing +towards Massingbred, welcomed him with what, for her, was the extreme +of cordiality. “Your mother was a Caradoc, Mr. Massingbred, and the +Caradocs are all of our family; so let me claim relationship at once.” + +With all the pretensions of a very fine lady, Lady Dorothea knew how +to unite very agreeable qualities, not the less successful in her +captivations, that she never exercised them without a real desire +to please; so that Massingbred soon saw how in the wilds of dreary +Connemara there existed a little oasis of polish and civilization that +would have done honor to the most splendid society of London or Paris. + +Nor was Massingbred himself less pleasing to her. It was so long, so +many, many years since she had met with one fresh from that great world +which alone she valued! + +Correspondence had kept her to a certain extent informed upon the +changes and vicissitudes of society,--the births, deaths, marriages, +separations, quarrels, and other disasters of those dear friends for +whose griefs absence and time offer so many consolations! But then, the +actual appearance, the _coup d'oil_ of that world could only be imparted +by an observer, imbued with all the spirit that gives observation its +peculiar piquancy. This she found in him; and so agreeably exercised was +it, that she actually heard dinner announced without attending, and only +as she arose from her seat was reminded to present him to Miss Martin, +by the brief phrase, “My niece, Mr. Massingbred;” while she took his +arm, with a glance at Mr. Repton, that plainly said, “You are deposed.” + +The passage to the dinner-room lay through three spacious and splendid +rooms, which now were brilliantly lighted up, and lined with servants in +rich liveries,--a degree of state Massingbred was not a little pleased +at; partly suspecting that it was intended to do himself honor. As they +moved slowly through the last of these, the door suddenly opened, and +young Nelligan entered. He had returned late from a long ride, and +heard nothing whatever of Massing-bred's arrival. With an exclamation +of “Jack--Massingbred!” he bounded forward. But the other showed no +recognition of him; and directing Lady Dorothea's attention to the +richness of a picture-frame, passed calmly on into the dinner-room. + +“You must bring up the rear alone, Nelligan,” said Martin, who had given +his arm to Miss Henderson; and Joe followed, almost overwhelmed with +mingled shame and amazement. + +For an instant the possibility of mistake assuaged his sense of +mortification; but no sooner did he find himself at table, and directly +opposite to Massingbred, than he perceived there was no ground whatever +for this consolation. It was, indeed, Massingbred, just as he had seen +him the first day in the Commons Hall at dinner, and when his cold, +supercilious manner had struck him so disagreeably. + +What a terrible vengeance for all the superiority Nelligan had displayed +over him in the Examination Hall was Massingbred's present success; for +success it was. With all that consummate readiness the habit of +society imparts, Jack could talk well on a great variety of topics, +and possessed, besides, that especial tact to make others so far +participators in his observations that they felt a partnership in the +agreeability. Lady Dorothea was perfectly charmed with him; it was the +triumph, as it were, of one of her own set. His anecdotes--not very +pointed or curious in themselves--had the marked characteristic of +always referring to distinguished individuals; so that what was +deficient in wit was more than compensated by the rank of the actors. +Martin enjoyed his conversation with all his own complacent ease, and +felt delighted with one who could play all the game without an +adversary. Mary was pleased and astonished together--the pleasure being +even less than the amazement--at all he seemed to know of life and the +world, and how intimately one so young seemed to have mixed in society. +As for Repton, he relished the other's powers with the true zest of a +pleasant talker; they were of different styles, and no disagreeable +rivalry marred the appreciation. + +Amidst all these silent or spoken testimonies sat poor Nelligan, +overwhelmed with shame. Massingbred had refused to recognize him; and it +was left to his own gloomy thoughts to search out the reason. At first +Joe avoided meeting the other's look; he dreaded he knew not what of +impertinence or insult, to which the time and place could offer no +reparation; but gradually he grew to perceive that Massingbred's cold +eye met his own without a spark of meaning; nor was there in voice, +manner, or bearing, a single evidence of constraint or awkwardness to be +detected. + +Miss Henderson alone seemed to listen to him with easy indifference; and +more than once, when Jack put forth his most showy pretensions, he was +secretly mortified to see how little impression he had made on the dark +beauty with the haughty smile. This was exactly the kind of defiance +that Massingbred never declined, and he determined within himself to +attempt the conquest. As the party returned to the drawing-room, he +asked Lady Dorothea to present him more formally to the young lady whose +acquaintance he had dared to obtrude upon before dinner; but she coldly +said,-- + +“Oh, it's no matter; she's only the governess.” An explanation she +deemed quite sufficient to subdue any rising feeling of interest +regarding her. + +“And the gentleman who sat next her at dinner?” asked he. + +“A neighbor,--that is, the son of one of our borough people. I have not +introduced him to you; for, of course, you are not likely to meet again. +As you were remarking, awhile ago, society in England is gradually +undergoing that change which in France was accomplished in a year or +two.” + +“With the aid of the guillotine and the 'lanterne,'” said Jack, smiling. + +“Just so; they used sharp remedies for a quick cure. But I own to you +that I have not yet reconciled myself, nor do I see how I shall ever +reconcile myself, to intimacy with a class not only whose habits and +instincts, but whose very natures are adverse to our own. That young +man now, for instance, they speak of him as quite a college wonder. I'm +ashamed to say I don't know wherein his great successes lie; but they +tell me that he has distanced every competitor of his day, and stands +alone in his preeminence, and yet we saw him to-day not venturing on a +remark, nor even hazarding an opinion on the topics we talked of, and +silent where he ought to have been heard with advantage.” + +“Is he bashful?” said Jack, with a lazy drawl. + +“I don't think it's that; at least, not altogether.” + +“Supercilious, perhaps?” + +“Oh! certainly not,” replied she, hastily. “The company in which he +found himself is the best answer to that. He could not presume--” + +“It was, then, downright fear,” broke in Massingbred; “the terror +that even clever men cannot even shake off when thrown amongst a class +they're unused to.” + +“And very naturally so. I'm sure he must be puzzled to imagine why he is +here. Indeed, we have only known him a few days back. It was one of Mr. +Martin's sudden caprices to ask him to Cro' Martin. He fancied he ought +to conciliate--I believe that's the phrase in vogue--the borough people, +and this young man's father is the chief of them.” And now Lady Dorothea +turned from the topic as one unworthy of further thought, and entered +upon the more congenial theme of her own high relatives and connections +in England. It was strange enough that Massing-bred's remote alliance +with her family was sufficient to induce an intimacy and familiarity +with him which years of mere acquaintanceship could not have effected. +That his grand-aunt had been a Conway, and his great-grandfather's +half-brother was married to a Jernyngham, were all a species of +freemasonry by which he was admitted at once to the privilege of +confidential discussion. + +It was no small mortification to Massingbred to spend his evening in +these genealogical researches; he had seen the two young girls move off +into an adjoining room, from which at times the sound of a piano, and +of voices singing, issued, and was half mad with impatience to be along +with them. However, it was a penalty must be exacted, and he thought +that the toll once paid he had secured himself against all demands for +the future. + +Not caring to participate in the many intricacies of those family +discussions wherein the degrees of relationship of individuals seem +to form the sole points of interest, we shall betake ourselves to the +little blue drawing-room, where, seated at the piano together, the +two young girls talked, while their fingers strayed along the notes as +though affording a species of involuntary accompaniment to their words. +Nelligan, it is true, was present; but, unnoticed by either, he sat +apart in a distant corner, deep in his own brooding thoughts. + +Mary had only made Miss Henderson's acquaintance on that evening, but +already they were intimate. It was, indeed, no common boon for her to +obtain companionship with one of her own age, and who, with the dreaded +characteristics of a governess, was in reality a very charming and +attractive person. Miss Henderson sang with all the cultivated knowledge +of a musician; and, while she spoke of foreign countries where she had +travelled, lapsed at times into little snatches of melody, as it +were, illustrative of what she spoke. The delight Mary experienced +in listening was unbounded; and if at moments a sad sense of her own +neglected education shot through her mind, it was forgotten the next +instant in her generous admiration. + +“And how are _you_, who have seen this bright and brilliant world you +speak of,” said Mary, “to sit quietly down in this unbroken solitude, +where all the interests are of the humblest and more ordinary kind?” + +“You forget that I saw all these things, as it were, on sufferance,” + replied she. “I was not born to them, nor could ever hope for more than +a passing glance at splendors wherein I was not to share. And as for the +quiet monotony here, an evening such as this, companionship like yours, +are just as much above my expectations.” + +“Oh, no, no!” cried Mary, eagerly. “You were as surely destined for a +salon as I was for the rude adventures of my own wayward life. You don't +know what a strange existence it is.” + +“I have heard, however!” said the other, calmly. + +“Tell me--do tell me--what you have been told of me, and don't be afraid +of wounding my vanity; for, I pledge you my word, I do think of myself +with almost all the humility that I ought.” + +“I have heard you spoken of in the cabins of the poor as their only +friend, their comforter, and their hope; the laborer knows you as his +succor,--one by whose kind intervention he earns his daily bread; their +children love you as their own chosen protector.” + +“But it's not of these things I 'm speaking,” said Mary, rapidly. “Do +they not call me self-willed, passionate, sometimes imperious?” + +“Yes; and capricious at times!” said the other, slowly. + +Mary colored, and her voice faltered as she said,-- + +“There they were unjust. The impracticable tempers I have to deal +with--the untutored minds and undisciplined natures--often lead me into +seeming contradictions.” + +“Like the present, perhaps,” said Miss Henderson. + +“How! the present?” said Mary. + +“That, while claiming the merit of humility, you at once enter upon a +self-defence.” + +“Well, perhaps I _am_ capricious!” said Mary, smiling. + +“And haughty?” asked the other, slowly. + +“I believe so!” said Mary, with a degree of dignity that seemed to +display the sentiment while confessing to it. + +“I have never heard a heavier accusation against Miss Martin than +these,” said she, “and I have lived with those who rarely scruple how to +criticise their betters.” + +Mary was silent and thoughtful; she knew not how to interpret the +mingled praise and censure she had just listened to. + +“But tell me rather of yourself,” said Mary, as though willing to turn +the topic of conversation. “I should like to hear your story.” + +“At thirteen years of age--I believe even a year later--I was the +playfellow of the young gentleman you see yonder,” said Kate Henderson, +“but who, to-night, seems incapable of remembering anything or anybody.” + +“Of Mr. Nelligan?” repeated Mary. And Joseph started as he heard his +name, looked up, and again relapsed into revery. + +“I 'm not sure that we were not in love. I almost confess that I +was, when my father sent me away to France to be educated. I was very +sad--very, very sad--at being taken away from home and thrown amongst +strangers, with none of whom I could even interchange a word; and I used +to sit and cry for hours by myself, and write sorrowful love-letters +to 'dearest Joseph,' and then imagine the answers to them; sometimes I +actually wrote them, and would suffer agonies of anguish before I dared +to break the seal and learn the contents. Meanwhile I was acquiring a +knowledge of French, and knew a little of music, and used to sing in our +choir at chapel, and learned to believe the world was somewhat larger +than I had hitherto thought it, and that St. Gudule was finer than +the mean little church at Oughterard; and worse still--for it _was_ +worse--that the sous-lieutenants and cadets of the Military College had +a much more dashing, daring look about them than 'poor Joseph;' for so I +now called him to myself, and gave up the correspondence soon after. + +“Remember, Miss Martin, that I was but a child at this time--at least, I +was little more than fourteen--but in another year I was a woman, in all +the consciousness of certain attractions, clever enough to know that +I could read and detect the weak points in others, and weak enough to +fancy that I could always take advantage of them. This incessant spirit +of casuistry, this passion for investigating the temper of those about +you, and making a study of their natures for purposes of your own, is +the essence of a convent life; you have really little else to do, +and your whole bent is to ascertain why Sister Agnes blushes, or why +Beatrice fainted twice at the Angelus. The minute anatomy of emotions +is a very dangerous topic. At this very moment I cannot free myself from +the old habit; and as I see young Mr. Nelligan there sitting with his +head in his hand, so deep in thought as not to notice us, I begin to +examine why is it he is thus, and on what is he now brooding?” + +“And can you guess?” asked Mary, half eagerly. + +“I could be certain, if I were but to ask him a question or two.” + +“Pray do then, if only to convince me of your skill.” + +“But I must be alone, and that is scarcely possible,--scarcely +becoming.” + +“Let us contrive some way,--think of something.” + +“It is too late now; he is about to leave the room,” said Kate, +cautiously. “How pale he looks, and how anxious his eye has become! +I thought at first there was some constraint at meeting _me_ here; he +feared, perhaps--but no, that would be unworthy of him.” + +She ceased, for Nelligan had now drawn nigh to where they sat, and stood +as if trying to collect himself to say something. + +“Do you sing, Mr. Nelligan?” asked Kate. + +“No; I am ignorant of music,” said he, half abstractedly. + +“But you like it?” asked Mary. + +“Yes, I believe I do,--that is, it calms and quiets me. If I could +understand it, it would do more.” + +“Then why not understand it, since that is the way you phrase it?” asked +Kate. “Everybody can be a musician to a certain degree of proficiency. +There is no more ear required than you want to learn a language.” + +“Then you shall teach me,” cried Mary, eagerly. + +Kate took up her hand and pressed it to her lips for a reply. + +“Foreigners--men, I mean--are all so well aware of this that they +cultivate music as a necessary part of education; few attain high +eminence, but all know something of it. But somehow we have got to +believe that cultivation in England must always tend to material profit. +We learn this, that, and t' other, to be richer or greater or higher, +but never to be more acceptable in society, more agreeable or pleasanter +company.” + +“We have n't time,” said Nelligan, gravely. + +“For what have we not time? Do you mean we have no time to be happy?” + cried Repton, suddenly stepping in amongst them. “Now, my dear young +ladies, which of you will bid highest for the heart of an old lawyer--by +a song?” + +“It must be Miss Henderson,” said Mary, smiling, “for I don't sing.” + +“Not a ballad?--not even one of the Melodies?” + +“Not even one of the Melodies,” said she, sorrowfully. + +“Shame upon me for that 'even,'” said Repton; “but you see what comes +of surviving one's generation. I lived in an age when the 'Last Rose of +Summer' and the 'Harp that Once' were classical as Homer's 'Hymns,' but +I have now fallen upon times when English music is estimated in the +same category with English cookery, and both deemed very little above +barbarous. To be sure,” added he, “it does seem very like a poetical +justice for the slavish adherence of _our_ education to Greek and Roman +literature, that our ladies should only sing to us in the languages of +Italy or Germany.” + +“I hope you would not imply that we are as little versed in these as +great scholars are in the others?” said Kate Henderson, slyly. + +“Sharply said, miss, and truthfully insinuated too! Not to mention that +there is courage in such a speech before Mr. Nelligan, here.” + +“Yes--very true--a just remark!” said Joseph, who only overheard a +reference to himself without understanding to what it alluded. And now +a very joyous burst of laughter from the others startled him, while it +covered him with confusion. + +“We must make them sing, Nelligan,” said Repton, gayly. “They'll +vanquish us in these tilting-matches of word-fence.--Now, Miss +Henderson, something very plaintive and very sentimental, to suit the +tenderness of a feeling heart.” + +“I'll sing for you with pleasure,” said Kate. “Will this suit you?” And +with a short prelude she sang one of those brilliant little snatches +of Venetian melody which seem like the outburst of a sudden +inspiration,--wild, joyous, floating as they are,--wherein such is the +expression that sounds usurp the place of language, and the mind is +carried away by a dreamy fascination impossible to resist. + +“How often have I heard that on the Lido!” said Mas-singbred, entering +the room hastily; “and what a glorious thing it is!” + +“Then you know this?” said Kate, running her fingers over the notes, and +warbling out another of the popular airs of the same class. + +“The last time I heard that,” said Jack, musingly, “was one night when +returning home from a late party, along the Grand Canal at Venice. There +is a single word at the end of each verse which should be uttered by a +second voice. Just as I passed beneath a brilliantly lighted salon, the +sounds of this melody came floating forth, and as the stanza finished, I +supplied the 'refrain.'” + +“You?” cried Kate, eagerly. + +“Yes; but why do you ask?” + +“Do you remember the exact spot?” said she, not heeding his question. + +“As well as though I were there only yesterday.” + +“Shall I tell you where it was?” He waited, and she went on: “It was +under the balcony of the Mocenigo Palace.” + +“Why, this is witchcraft,” cried Jack; “you are perfectly correct.” + +“The bouquet that was thrown to you from the window fell into the +water.” + +“But I regained it. I have it still,” cried he, more eagerly; “and yours +was the hand that threw it?” + +She nodded assent. + +“How strange, is it not, that we should meet here?” He paused for a +minute or two, and then said, “It was the Duchesse de Courcelles lived +there at the time?” + +“Yes, we passed the winter in that palace.” + +“Miss Henderson was the companion of the young Princess,” said Lady +Dorothea, who had just joined the group, and experienced no slight shock +at observing the tone of easy familiarity in which the conversation +was conducted. But Massingbred seemed wonderfully little moved by the +intelligence, for, drawing his chair closer to Kate's, he led her +to talk of Venice and its life, till, imperceptibly as it were, the +discourse glided into Italian. What a dangerous freemasonry is the use +of a foreign language, lifting the speakers out of the ordinary +topics, and leading them away to distant scenes and impressions, which, +constituting a little world apart, give a degree of confidential feeling +to intercourse. Massingbred would willingly have lent himself to the +full enjoyment of this illusion; but Kate, with quicker tact, saw all +the difficulties and embarrassment it would occasion, and under pretext +of searching for some music, escaped at once from the spot. + +“How I envy you, dear girl!” said Mary, following her, and passing her +arm affectionately around her. “What a happiness must it be to possess +such gifts as yours, which, even in their careless exercise, are so +graceful. Tell me frankly, is it too late for me to try--” + +“You overrate _me_ as much as you disparage yourself,” said Kate, +mildly; “but if you really will accept me, I will teach you the little +that I know, but, in return, will you make _me_ your friend?” + +Mary pressed the other's hand warmly within her own. + +“Here are some vows of everlasting friendship going forward, I 'll be +sworn,” said old Repton, stepping in between them; “and you ought to +have a legal opinion as to the clauses,--eh, young ladies, am I not +right?” + +“When was Mr. Repton wrong?” said Mary, laughing. + +“When he waited till his present age to fall in love!” said he, gayly. +“But, seriously, what have you done with our young student? Of all the +woe-begone faces I ever beheld, his was the very saddest, as he moved +into the large drawing-room awhile ago. Which of you is to blame for +this?” + +“Not guilty, upon my honor,” said Mary, with mock solemnity. + +“I'm half afraid that our showy friend has eclipsed him in _your_ eyes, +as I own to you he has in _mine_, clever fellow that he is.” + +“Are you not charmed with yourself that you did not shoot him this +morning?” said Mary, laughing. + +“I am sincerely gratified that he has not shot me, which, taking his +pistol performance on the same level with his other acquirements, was +not so very improbable!” + +“There's your uncle stealing away to bed,” said Repton, “and fancying +that nobody remarks him. Shall I be cruel enough to mar the project? +Martin--Martin--come here for a moment; we want your opinion on a knotty +point.” + +“I know what it is,” said Martin, smiling; “the question under +discussion is, “whether you or Mr. Massingbred were the more successful +to-day?'” + +“I think Mr. Massingbred may claim the prize,” said Mary Martin, with a +sly whisper; “he made Lady Dorothea cry.” + +“Ay,” said Repton, “but _I_ made young Nelligan laugh!” + +And now the party broke up, Massingbred lingering a little behind to say +something to Miss Henderson, and then betaking himself to his chamber, +well satisfied with his day, and the change it had wrought in his +fortunes. Perhaps a few passages from a letter that he, on that same +night, penned to one of his friends in Dublin, will not be ill-timed as +an exponent of his sentiments. The letter was written, directing +certain articles of dress to be forwarded to him at once, by coach, and +contained these paragraphs:-- + +“You now know how I came here: the next thing is to tell you of the +place itself. The house is large and admirably _montée_--abundance of +servants, well drilled, and orderly. The master a nonentity, apparently; +easy-tempered and good-humored; liking the quiet monotony of his humdrum +life, and only asking that it may not be interfered with. His wife, +a fine lady of the school of five-and-forty years ago,--a nervous +terrorist about mob encroachments and the democratic tendencies of the +times,--insufferably tiresome on genealogies and 'connections,' and +what many would call downright vulgar in the amount of her pretension. +Gratitude--for I have the honor of being a favorite already--seals my +lips against any further or harsher criticism. As for the niece, she is +decidedly handsome; a great deal of style about her too; with a degree +of--shall I call it daring? for it is more like courage than any other +quality--that tells you she is the uncontrolled ruler over the wild +regions and wild people around her. With more of manner, she would be +very charming; but perhaps she is better in the unfettered freedom of +her own capricious independence: it certainly suits her to perfection. +And now I should have completed my catalogue, if it were not for +the governess. Ay, Harry, the governess! And just fancy, under this +unimposing title, a dark-eyed, haughty-looking girl--I don't think she +can be above twenty or twenty-one--with a carriage and port that might +suit an Archduchess of Austria. She has travelled all over Europe--been +everywhere--seen everything, and, stranger again, everybody; for she was +what they style a companion. By Jove! she must have been a very charming +one; that is, if she liked it; for if she did not, Hal!--At all events, +here she is; only having arrived the very day before myself; so that we +are free to discuss the family, and compare notes together, in the most +confidential fashion. + +“Of course I need n't tell _you_ Jack Massingbred does not fall in +love,--the very phrase implies it must be beneath one,--but I already +see that if such a girl were a Lady Catherine or a Lady Agnes, with a +father in the Upper House, and two brothers in the 'Lower,' her dowry +anything you like above thirty thousand,--that, in short, even Jack +himself might exhibit the weakness of inferior mortals; for she is +precisely one of those types that are ever looking upward,--a girl +with a high ambition, I 'll be sworn, and formed to make the man, whose +fortunes she shared, stand forward in the van and distinguish himself. + +“These are our whole _dramatis persono_, if I include an old barrister, +with a racy humor and a strong stock of Bar anecdotes; and young +Nelligan, the Medal man, whom you quizzed me so much for noticing in +Dublin. You were right then, Harry; he _is_ a low fellow, and I was +wrong in ever thinking him otherwise. I chanced upon his father's +acquaintance rather oddly; and the son has not forgiven it. When we met +here, yesterday, he fancied that we were to speak, and was actually +rushing forward to shake hands with the most enthusiastic warmth; but +with that manner which you have often admired, and once encouraged, when +you called me the 'Cool of the day,' I pulled him up dead short, stared, +and passed on. At dinner, I managed to ignore him so utterly that +everybody else fell into the trap, and he dined as a tutor or the +chaplain or the agent's son might,--mingling his sighs with the soup, +and sipping his claret in all dreariness. + +“You will see, even from these hasty lines, that there is enough here +to interest and amuse; food for observation, and opportunity for malice. +What can a man want more? The 'joint and the pickles.' They have +asked me to stay,--they have even entreated; and so I mean to pass a +week--perhaps two--here. I conclude that will give me enough of it: +however, you shall hear frequently of my _res gesto_, and learn all that +befalls + +“Jack Massingbred. + +“... When you pass that way, pray see what letters there may be lying +for me in my chambers. If any of my father's--he writes in a large +splashy hand--and the seal, two maces, saltierwise--forward them here. I +am, or I shall soon be, in want of money; and as I have overdrawn my +allowance already, I shall be obliged to issue bonds, bearing a certain +interest. Can you recommend me to a safe capitalist?--not Fordyce--nor +Henniker--nor yet Sloan--with all of whom I have held dealings, mutually +disagreeable. It is a sad reflection that the stamp worth five shillings +upon a piece of unsullied paper is absolutely valueless when the words +'Jack Massingbred' are inscribed beneath. Try, and if you can, solve +this curious problem. + +“At all events, write to me here: supply me freely with news, for I +am supposed to be acquainted with all that goes on, socially and +politically, and I shall be driven to imagination if you do not store me +with fact.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. STATECRAFT + +It was a cabinet council; they were met in Lady Dorothea's boudoir, +Martin and Mr. Repton being summoned to her presence. A letter had that +morning reached her Ladyship from a very high quarter; the writer was +the Marquis of Reckington, a very distant connection, who had suddenly +been graciously pleased, after a long interval of utter obliviousness, +to remember that Lady Dorothea was his relative, and yet living! +Whatever pride her Ladyship might have summoned to her aid to repel the +slights or impertinences of the vulgar, she displayed a most Christian +forgiveness as she broke the seal of an epistle from one who had left +several of her own without answers, and even replied to her application +for a staff appointment for her son, by a cold assurance that these were +times when “nothing but fitness and superior qualifications entitled any +man to advancement in the public service.” Oh dear, were there ever any +other times since the world was made! Is not merit the only passport to +place, and high desert and capacity the sole recommendation to favor? Of +all the immense advantages of a representative government, is there any +more conspicuous than the unerring certainty with which men of ability +rise to eminence without other aid than their own powers; and that, in +a system like ours, family influence, wealth, name, connections, +and parliamentary support are just so much mere dross? If any one be +incredulous of the virtue of public men, let him only ask for a place; +let him entreat his great friend--everybody has at least one +great friend--mine is a coroner--to make him a Junior Lord, or a +Vice-Something, and see what the answer will be. Polite, certainly; +nothing more so; but what a rebuke to self-seeking!--what a stern +chastisement to the ignorant presumption that places are awarded by +means of favor, or that the public service is ever filled through the +channels of private influence! Far from it. He is told that our age is +an incorruptible one, that ministers pass sleepless nights in balancing +the claims of treasury clerks, and that Lord Chancellors suffer agonies +in weighing the merits of barristers of six years' standing. “We have +but one rule for our guidance: the best man in the best place.” A +high-sounding maxim, which it would be excessively uncivil to disparage +by asking what constitutes “a best man.” Is he some unscrupulous +partisan, who first gave his fortune, and afterwards his fame, to the +support of a party? Is he the indisputable disposer of three, or perhaps +four votes in the House? Is he a floating buoy to be anchored in +either roadstead of politics, and only to be secured to either, for +a consideration? Is he the dangerous confidant of some damaging +transaction? Or is he the deserter from a camp, where his treason may +sow disaffection? These several qualifications have ere this served to +make up “a best man;” and strangely enough, are gifts which fit him for +the Army, the Navy, the Home Service, or the Colonies. + +Let us turn from this digression, into which we have fallen half +inadvertently, and read over some parts of Lord Reckington's letter. It +was somewhat difficult to decipher, as most great men's letters are, and +displayed in more than one place the signs of correction. Although it +had been, as we have said, a very long time since any correspondence had +occurred between the “cousins,” his Lordship resumed the intercourse as +though not a week had intervened. After a little playful chiding over +the laxity of her Ladyship's writing habits,--three of hers had been +left unreplied to,--and some of that small gossip of family changes and +events, never interesting to any but the direct actors, his Lordship +approached the real topic of his letter; and, as he did so, his writing +grew firmer, and larger and bolder, like the voice of a man who spoke of +what truly concerned him. + +“I thought, my dear Dora, I had done with it all. I flattered myself +that I had served my time in public capacities, and that neither +the Crown nor its advisers could reasonably call upon me for further +sacrifices. _You_ know how little to my taste were either the cares or +ambitions of office. In fact, as happens to most men who are zealous for +the public service, my official career imposed far more of sacrifices +than it conferred privileges. Witness the occasions in which I was +driven to reject the claims of my nearest and dearest friends, in +compliance with that nervous terror of imputed favoritism so fatal to +all in power! I thought, as I have said, that they had no fair claim +upon me any longer. I asked nothing; indeed, many thought I was wrong +there. But so it was; I quitted office without a pension, and without +a ribbon! It was late on a Saturday evening, however, when a Cabinet +messenger arrived at 'Beech Woods' with an order for me to repair +at once to Windsor. I was far from well; but there was no escape. +Immediately on arriving I was summoned to the presence, and before I had +paid my respects, his Majesty, who was much excited, said, 'Reckington, +we want you. You must go to Ireland!' I believe I started, for he went +on, 'I 'll have no refusal. There is but one settlement of this question +that I will accept of. You shall go to Ireland!' The King then entered +with considerable warmth, but with all his own remarkable perspicuity, +into a detail of late changes and events in the Cabinet. He was +excessively irritated with B------, and spoke of G------as one whom he +never could forgive. He repeatedly said, 'I have been duped; I have been +tricked;' and, in fact, exhibited a degree of emotion which, combined +with the unbounded frankness of his manner towards me, affected me +almost to tears. Of course, my dear Dora, personal considerations ceased +at once to have any hold upon me; and I assured his Majesty that the +remainder of my life was freely at his disposal, more than requited, as +it already was, by the precious confidence he had that day reposed in +me. I must not weary you with details. I accepted and kissed hands as +Viceroy on Monday morning; since that I have been in daily communication +with G------, who still remains in office. We have discussed Ireland +from morning to night, and I hope and trust have at last come to a +thorough understanding as to the principles which must guide the future +administration. These I reserve to talk over with you when we meet; nor +do I hesitate to say that I anticipate the very greatest benefit in the +fruits of your long residence and great powers of observation of this +strange people.” The letter here went off into a somewhat long-winded +profession of the equal-handed justice which was to mark the acts of +the administration. It was to be, in fact, a golden era of equity and +fairness; but, somehow, as codicils are occasionally found to revoke the +body of the testament, a very suspicious little paragraph rather damaged +this glorious conclusion. “I don't mean to say, my dear coz., that we +are to neglect our followers,--the Government which could do so never +yet possessed, never deserved to possess, able support; but we must +discriminate,--we must distinguish between the mere partisan who trades +on his principles, and that high-minded and honorable patriot who gives +his convictions to party. With the noisy declaimer at public meetings, +the mob-orator or pamphleteer, we shall have no sympathy. To the worthy +country gentleman, independent by fortune as well as by principle, +extending the example of a blameless life to a large neighborhood, +aiding us by his counsels as much as by the tender of his political +support,--to him, I say, we shall show our gratitude, not grudgingly nor +sparingly, but freely, openly, and largely. You now know in what ranks +we wish to see our friends, in the very van of which array I reckon upon +yourself.” We shall again skip a little, since here the writer diverged +into a slight dissertation on the indissoluble ties of kindred, and the +links, stronger than adamant, that bind those of one blood together. +After a brief but rapid survey of the strong opposition which was to +meet them, he went on: “Of course all will depend upon our parliamentary +support; without a good working majority we cannot stand, and for this +must we use all our exertions.” A few generalities on the comfort and +satisfaction resulting from “safe divisions” ensued, and then came the +apparently careless question, “What can _you_ do for us? Yes, my dear +Dora, I repeat, what can _you_ do for us? What we need is the support of +men who have courage enough to merge old prejudices and old convictions +in their full trust in us; who, with the intelligence of true +statesmanship, will comprehend the altered condition of the country, and +not endeavor to adapt the nation to _their_ views, but rather _their_ +views to the nation. In a word, a wise and liberal policy, not based +upon party watchwords and antiquated symbols, but on the prospect of +seeing Ireland great and united. Now, will Martin come to our aid in +this wise? He ought to be in Parliament for his county. But if he be too +indolent, or too happy at home, whom can he send us? And again, what of +the borough? They tell me that Kilcock, seeing his father's great age, +will not stand where a contest might be expected, so that you must +necessarily be prepared with another.” + +Again the writer launched out upon the happiness he felt at being able +to appeal thus candidly and freely to his own “dearest kinswoman,” + inviting her to speak as frankly in return, and to believe that no +possible difference of political opinion should ever throw a coldness +between those whose veins were filled with the same blood, and whose +hearts throbbed with the same affections. Her Ladyship's voice slightly +faltered as she read out the concluding paragraph, and when she laid the +letter down, she turned away her head and moved her handkerchief to her +eyes. + +As for Martin, he sat still and motionless, his gaze firmly directed +to Repton, as though seeking in the impassive lines of the old lawyer's +face for some clew to guide and direct him. + +“You used to be a Tory, Martin?” said Repton, after a pause. + +“Yes, to be sure, we were always with that party.” + +“Well, there's an end of them now,” said the other. “What's to follow +and fill their place, my Lord Reckington may be able to say; I cannot. +I only know that _they_ exist no longer; and the great question for +you--at least, one of the great questions--is, have you spirit enough to +join a travelling party without knowing whither they 're journeying?” + +“And what may be the other great question, sir?” asked Lady Dorothea, +haughtily. + +“The other is, what will it cost in money--ay, my Lady, in money; +because any other outlay will not require searches nor title-deeds, +loans, mortgages, nor bond-debts.” + +“To contest the county would cost ten thousand pounds; Scanlan says so,” + rejoined Martin. + +“And the borough?” asked Repton. + +“A few hundreds would suffice; at least, they have done so hitherto.” + +“Then remain content with the cheap luxury of the borough,” said Repton. +“You don't want anything from these people, Martin. You don't covet a +peerage; you would n't accept a baronetcy. You remember what Langton +said when told that the King was going to give him the 'Red Hand.' 'If I +have been unfortunate enough to incur his Majesty's displeasure, I must +deplore it deeply; but surely my innocent son should not be included +in the penalty of my offence. Therefore, in all humility, I beseech and +entreat the royal favor to commute the sentence into knighthood, so that +the disgrace may die with me.'” + +“There were times when such insolence would have cost him dearly,” said +her Ladyship, sternly. + +“I am not sorry that we don't live in them, my Lady,” replied Repton. +“But to return: as I was saying, you ask for no favors; why should +you expend ten or fifteen thousand pounds to advocate views of whose +tendencies you know nothing, and principles whose very meaning you are +in ignorance of?” + +“I anticipated every word of this,” said Lady Dorothea. “I told Mr. +Martin, this morning, almost literally, the exact advice you'd proffer.” + +“I am proud that your Ladyship should have read me so justly,” said +Repton, bowing. + +An insolent toss of her head was the significant answer to this speech. + +“But were I to speak my mind more candidly, I 'd even say, let the +borough go after the county; and for this plain reason,” said Repton, +speaking with increased firmness and animation, “you neither seek +for the ambition of political life, nor want to make a trade of its +casualties.” + +“Is it not possible, sir, that we might desire the natural influence +that should arise out of our station in society and our rank in this +county?” said Lady Dorothea, proudly. + +“And your Ladyship has it, and can never lose it. Having a vote or +two to throw into a Ministerial division would never repay you for the +anxieties and cares of contested elections. Ah, my Lady, what do _you_ +care for the small flatteries of London attentions?” + +“We should have these, sir, as our right,” broke she in. + +“To be sure you would, and much happiness do I hope they would confer,” + added he, in a tone only overheard by Martin; then continued aloud: “As +to the patronage at your disposal, would you take a present of it? Whom +do you want to make tide-waiters, gaugers, barony-constables, or +even clerks of the peace? Of all men living, who is so free of hungry +dependants or poor relations!” + +“I must say, sir, that you reduce the question of political support to +a very intelligible one of material benefit,” said her Ladyship, with a +sneer; “but, just for argument sake, imagine that there should be such a +thing as a little principle in the matter.” + +“I'm going to that part of the case, my Lady,” said Repton. “Martin is a +Tory; now, what are the men coming into power? I wish you could tell +me. Here, for instance, is one of their own journals,”--and he opened +a newspaper and ran his eye over the columns,--“ay, here it is: 'With +regard to Ireland, Lord Reckington's appointment as Viceroy is the best +guarantee that the rights of Irishmen of every persuasion and every +denomination will be respected.' So far so good;” and he read on in a +low, humdrum voice for some minutes, till he came to the following: “'No +privileged class will any longer be tolerated; no exceptional loyalty +admitted as an excuse for insufferable oppression and tyranny; the +wishes and benefits of the people--the real people of that country--will +at length enter into the views of an administration; and Ireland as she +is,--not the possible Ireland of factious enthusiasts,--be governed by +men determined to redress her grievances and improve her capacities.' +Now, Martin, you want no augur to interpret that oracle. They are going +to rule you by the people; but the people must be represented. + +“Now, who represents them? Not the demagogue; he is merely their tool. +The real representative is the priest; don't laugh, my dear friend, at +such a shadowy possibility; the thing is nearer than you dream of. No +administration ever yet tried to govern Ireland except by intimidation. +The Beresfords were undertakers once, and they did their work very well, +let me tell you; they advanced their friends and whipped their enemies; +and what with peerages for one set, and pitched caps for the other, they +ruled Ireland. Then there came the Orangemen, who rather blundered their +work; there were too many heads amongst them, and the really clever +fellows were overborne by brawling, talkative fools, who always had the +masses with them because they _were_ fools. Still they ruled Ireland. +They preserved the country to the King's crown; and I say once more, +that was no small matter. And now we have arrived at a new era; we +have obtained Emancipation, and must look out for another stamp of +administrators, and I see nothing for it but the priest. Of course you, +and every man of your station, sneer at the notion of being dictated +to by Father Luke, in the greasy leather small-clothes and dirty black +boots,--only, himself, a cottier once removed, a plant of the +wild growth of the fields, cultivated, however, in the hotbeds of +Maynooth,--a forcing-house whose fruits you are yet to taste of! Sneer +away, Martin; but my name is not Val Repton if those men do not rule +Ireland yet! Ay, sir, and rule it in such a fashion as your haughty +Beresfords and Tottenhams, and Tisdalls never dreamed of! They 'll treat +with the Government on equal terms,--so much, for so much; and, what's +more, it won't be higgling for a place here, or a peerage there; but +they'll have the price paid down in hard legislative coin,--Acts of +Parliament, sir; privileges for themselves and their order, benefits to +'the Church;' and, when nothing better or more tempting offers, insults +and slights to their antagonists. You, and all like you, will be passed +over as if you never existed; the minister will not need you; you'll be +so many general officers on the retired list, and only remarked when you +swell the crowd at a levee.” + +“So, sir, according to this special prediction of yours, we have nothing +left us but to live on our estates, enjoy what we can of our fortunes, +and leave the interests of the nation to those our inferiors in rank, +station, and property?” + +“Such a period as your Ladyship has pictured forth--a little strongly, +perhaps--is before you. Whether the interval be destined to be long or +short, will, in great measure, depend upon yourselves.” + +“That agrees with what Scanlan said the other day,” said Martin. + +“Scanlan!” echoed her Ladyship, with most profound contempt. + +“Who is this Scanlan?” asked Repton. + +“There he comes to answer for himself,” said Martin. “The fellow drives +neatly. See how cleverly he swept round that sharp turn! He may be 'at +fault' about the world of politics; but, _my_ word for it! he is a rare +judge of a hack.” + +“And, now that you suggest it,” said Repton, musingly, “what an +instinctive shrewdness there is on every subject,--I don't care what it +is,--about fellows that deal in horse flesh. The practice of buying +and selling, searching out flaws here, detecting defects there, gives +a degree of suspectful sharpness in all transactions; besides that, +really none but a naturally clever fellow ever graduates in the stable. +You smile, my Lady; but some of our very first men have achieved the +triumphs of the turf.” + +“Shall we have Scanlan in and hear the news?” asked Martin. + +“Not here. If you please, you may receive him in the library or your own +room.” + +“Then, come along, Repton. We can resume this affair in the afternoon or +to-morrow.” And, without waiting for a reply, he passed his arm within +the other's, and led him away. “You have been too abrupt with her, +Repton; you have not made due allowances for her attachment to family +influences,” said he, in a whisper, as they went along. + +Repton smiled half contemptuously. + +“Oh, it's all very easy for you to laugh, my dear fellow; but, trust me, +there's nothing to be done with my Lady in that fashion.” + +“Turn the flank,--eh?” said the old lawyer, slyly. “Ah, Martin, don't +teach _me_ how to deal with humanity. If you have not the courage to +tell your wife that your estate cannot bear fresh encumbrances, new +loans, and new debts--” + +“Hush!” said Martin, cautiously. + +“Then, I say, let me prevent the casualty, that's all.” + +“How are you, Scanlan?” said Martin, as the attorney came, bowing and +smiling, forward to pay his respects. “My friend, Mr. Repton, wishes to +make your acquaintance.” + +“I have the honor of being known to Mr. Repton, already, sir, if he has +not forgotten me.” + +“Eh,--how? where?” cried the lawyer, sharply. + +“In Reeves _versus_ Dockery, and another, sir, in Hilary, 24. It was _I_ +supplied the instructions--” + +“To be sure,--perfectly right. Maurice Scanlan; isn't that the name? +You did the thing well, sir; and if we failed, we retreated without +dishonor.” + +“That was a grand shot you fired at the Bench, sir, when all was over,” + said Scanlan. “I don't suppose they ever got such a complete 'set down' +before.” + +“I forget it,” said Repton, but with a bright twinkle of his eye, which +more than contradicted his words. + +“Then, sir, it's more than their Lordships ever will,” said Scanlan. +“The Chief Baron it was,” said he, addressing Martin, “that overruled +every objection made by Counsellor Repton, and at last declared that +he would n't hear any more citations whatsoever. 'But I have a stronger +case still, my Lord,' says the Counsellor. 'I 'll not hear it, sir,' +said the Court. 'It is in Crewe and Fust, Term Reports, page 1,438.' + +“'I don't care where it is, sir,' was the answer. + +“'In a charge delivered by Lord Eldon--' + +“'Oh, let us hear my Lord Eldon,' said Plumridge, the Puisne Judge, who +was rather ashamed of the Chief Baron's severity. 'Let us hear my Lord +Eldon.' + +“'Here it is, my Lords,' said the Counsellor, opening the volume, and +laying his hand upon the page,--'Crewe and Fust's Pleas of the Crown, +page 1,438. My Lord Eldon says, “I may here observe the Courts of Law +in Ireland are _generally_ wrong! The Court of Exchequer is _always_ +wrong!”'” + +Repton tried to smother his own delighted laugh at the reminiscence, +but all in vain; it burst from him long and joyously; and as he shook +Scanlan's hand, he said, “The incident loses nothing by your telling, +sir; you have done it admirable justice.” + +“You make me very proud, indeed, Counsellor,” said Scanlan, who really +did look overjoyed at the speech. + +“Have you any news for us, Scanlan?” said Martin, as they entered the +library. + +“Yes, sir; the Ministry is out.” + +“We know that already, man!” + +“And the Marquis of Reckington comes here as Lord-Lieutenant.” + +“That we know also.” + +“Colonel Massingbred to be Chief Sec--” + +“Moore Massingbred!” cried both, in a breath. + +“Yes, sir; he that was a Treasury Lord.” + +“Are you quite sure of this, Scanlan?” asked Martin. + +“I had it from Groves, sir, at the Castle, yesterday morning, who told +me there would be an immediate dissolution, and showed me a list of +Government candidates.” + +“You may talk them all over together, then,” said Martin, “for I 'm +heartily tired of politics this morning.” And so saying, he left them. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. A STUDIO + +It is one of the most inestimable privileges of Art, that amidst all the +cares and contentions of the world, amidst strife and war and carnage, +its glorious realm is undisturbed, its peace unbroken, and its followers +free to follow their own wayward fancies, without let or hindrance. +Your great practical intelligences, your men of committees and corn and +railroads and ship-canals, sneer at the fictitious life--for so does +it seem to them--of the mere painter or musician. They have a sort of +pitying estimate for capacities only exercised upon the ideal, and look +down with a very palpable contempt upon those whose world is a gallery +or an orchestra. After all, this division of labor is a wise and happy +provision, carrying with it many and varied benefits, and making of that +strange edifice of mankind a far more pleasing and harmonious structure +than we should otherwise have seen it. The imagination is to the actual, +in the world of active life, what flowers are to nutritious herbs +and roots. It is the influence that adorns, elevates, and embellishes +existence. That such gifts have been confided to certain individuals +is in itself a sufficient evidence, just as we see in the existence +of flowers that pleasure has its place assigned in the grand scheme of +creation, and that the happiness which flows from gratified sense has +not been denied us. + +In that petty world which lived beneath the roof of Cro' Martin Castle, +all the eager passions and excitements of political intrigue were now +at work. My lady was full of plans for future greatness; Repton was +scheming and suggesting, and thwarting everybody in turn; and even +Martin himself, engulfed in the “Maelstrom” of the crisis, was roused +into a state of semi-preparation that amounted to a condition of almost +fever. As for Massingbred, whatever he really did feel, his manner +affected a most consummate indifference to all that went forward; nor +did the mention of his father's appointment to high office elicit from +him anything beyond a somewhat contemptuous opinion of the new party +in power. While, therefore, secret counsels were held, letters read +and written, conferences conducted in every room, one little space was +devoid of all these embarrassments and anxieties, and that was an oval +chamber, lighted from the top, and originally destined for a summer +ball-room, but now appropriated to Mr. Crow's use for the completion of +the Grand Historical, which had lately been transferred from Kilkieran +to its place there. + +The unlucky masterpiece was doomed to many a difficulty. The great +events in prospect had totally banished all thought of “art” from Lady +Dorothea's mind. The fall of a recent administration was a far more +imminent circumstance than the abdication of a king a few centuries +back. Martin, of course, had enough on his head, without the cares of +mock royalty. Mary was overwhelmed with occupations. The floods and +a threatened famine were casualties not to be overlooked; and she was +absent every day from dawn to late night; while, to complete the list +of defaulters, young Nelligan--the future Prince of Orange of the +picture--was gone! + +Men deplore their past youth, their bygone buoyancy of heart, their old +loves and extinct friendships; but of all departed pleasures, there is a +peculiar poignancy about one, and that is an artist's grief over a “lost +sitter.” You ladies and gentlemen whose thumbs have never closed on +a palette, nor whose fingers have never felt the soft influence of +varnish, may smile at such a sorrow, but take my word for it, it is a +real and tangible affliction. + +The waving locks, the noble brow; the deep square orbits, and the finely +cut chin are but the subtle suggestions out of which inspirations are +begotten, and poetic visions nurtured. The graceful bearing and the +noble port, the tender melancholy or the buoyant gladness, have each +in turn struck some chord of secret feeling in the artist's breast, +revealing to him new ideas of beauty, and imparting that creative power +which displays itself in new combinations. + +Poor Simmy Crow was not a Titian nor a Vandyke, but unhappily the +sorrows of genius are very often experienced by those who are not gifted +with its greatness; and the humble aspirant of excellence can catch +every malady to which the triumphant in all the wild enthusiasm of his +powers is exposed. He sat down before his canvas, as some general might +before a fortified town which had resisted all his efforts of attack. He +was depressed and discouraged. + +The upper part of the young student's head was already half finished, +and there was enough done to impart a kind of promise of success,--that +glorious vista which opens itself so often in imagination to those whose +world is but their own fancy. He half thought he could finish it from +memory; but before he had proceeded many minutes, he laid down the +brush in despair. It seemed like a fatality that something must always +interpose to bar the road to success. One time it was sickness, then +it was poverty; a disparaging criticism had even done it; and now, when +none of these threatened, there arose a new impediment. “Ah! Simmy, +Simmy,” he exclaimed aloud, “you were born under an unkindly planet. +That's the secret of it all!” + +“I confess I cannot concur in that opinion,” said a low, soft voice +behind him. He started up, and beheld Kate Henderson, who, leaning +on the back of a chair, continued to gaze steadfastly at the canvas, +perfectly regardless of his astonishment. “There is a great deal to +admire in that picture!” said she, as though talking to herself. + +Simmy crept stealthily back, and stationed himself behind her, as if to +hear her remarks, while viewing the picture from the same point. + +“You have grouped your figures admirably,” continued she, now addressing +him, “and your management of the light shows a study of Rembrandt.” + +“Very true, ma'am--miss, I mean. I have copied nearly all his great +pieces.” + +“And the drapery--that robe of the King's--tells me that you have +studied another great master of color--am I right, sir, in saying Paul +Veronese?” + +Simmy Crow's face glowed till it became crimson, while his eyes sparkled +with intense delight. + +“Oh, dear me!” he exclaimed, “is n't it too much happiness to hear this? +and only a minute ago I was in black despair!” + +“Mine is very humble criticism, sir; but as I have seen good pictures--” + +“Where? In the galleries abroad?” broke in Crow, hurriedly. + +“All over Germany and Italy. I travelled with those who really cared +for and understood art. But to come back to yours--that head is a noble +study.” + +“And that's exactly what I'm grieving over,--he's gone.” + +“Young Mr. Nelligan?” + +“Himself. He started this morning for Oughterard.” + +“But probably to return in a day or two.” + +Crow looked stealthily around to see if he were not likely to be +overheard, and then, approaching Kate, said in a whisper,-- + +“I don't think he 'll ever cross the doors again.” + +“How so? has he received any offence?” + +“I can't make out what it is,” said Simmy, with a puzzled look, “but he +came to my room late last night, and sat down without saying a word; and +at last, when I questioned him if he were ill, he said suddenly,-- + +“'Have you found, Mr. Crow, that in your career as an artist, you have +been able to withdraw yourself sufficiently from the ordinary events +of life as to make up a little world of your own, wherein you lived +indifferent to passing incidents?' + +“'Yes,' said I, 'I have, whenever I was doing anything really worth the +name.' + +“'And at such times,' said he, again, 'you cared nothing, or next to +nothing, for either the flatteries or the sarcasms of those around you?” + +“'I could n't mind them,' said I, 'for I never so much as heard them.' + +“'Exactly what I mean,' said he, rapidly. 'Intent upon higher ambitions, +you were above the petty slights of malice or envy, and with your +own goal before you, were steeled against the minor casualties of the +journey. Then why should not I also enjoy the immunity? Can I not summon +to my aid a pride like this, or am I to be discouraged and disgraced to +my own heart by a mere impertinence?' + +“I stared at him, not guessing what he could mean. + +“'Rather quit the spot with which it is associated,--quit it forever,' +muttered he to himself, as he paced the room, while his face grew +deathly pale. + +“'As for me,' said I, for I wanted to say something--anything, in +short--just to take his attention a little off of himself, 'whenever the +world goes hard with me, I just step into my studio, lock the door, and +sit down before a fresh canvas. I throw in a bit of brown, with a dash +of bluish gray over it,--half sky, half atmosphere,--and I daub away +till something like an effect--maybe a sunset, maybe a sullen-looking +seashore, maybe a long, low prairie swell--rises before me. I don't try +for details, I don't even trace an outline, but just throw in an effect +here and there, and by good luck it often comes right, in some fine +harmony of color, that's sure to warm up my heart and cheer my spirits; +for, as there are sounds that, swelling up, fill the whole nature of man +with ecstasy, there are combinations of color and tint that enter the +brain by the eye, and just produce the same sense of delight.'” + +“And how did he accept your consolation?” asked she, smiling +good-naturedly. + +“I don't well know if he listened to me,” said Simmy, sorrowfully; “for +all he said afterwards was,-- + +“'Well, Mr. Crow, good-bye. I hope you 'll come to see me when you visit +Dublin. You 'll easily find out my chambers in the college.' + +“Of course I said, 'I'd be delighted;' and there we parted.” + +“Poor fellow!” said Kate, but in an accent so peculiar it would have +been very difficult to pronounce whether the words were of kindness or +of disparagement. + +“And your Prince, Mr. Crow?” said she, changing her tone to one of real +or affected interest; “what's to be done now that Mr. Nelligan has left +us?” + +“I'm thinking of making a background figure of him, miss,” said Simmy. +“Burnt sienna reduces many an illustrious individual to an obscure +position.” + +“But why not ask Mr. Massingbred to take his place--you've seen him?” + +“Only passing the window, miss. He is a handsome young man, but that +same look of fashion, the dash of style about him, is exactly what +destroys the face for _me_, I feel I could make nothing of it; I 'd +be always thinking of him standing inside the plate-glass window of a +London club, or cantering along the alleys of the Park, or sipping his +iced lemonade at Tortoni's. There's no poetizing your man of gold chains +and embroidered waistcoats!” + +“I half suspect you are unjust in this case,” said she, with one of her +dubious smiles. + +“I'm only saying what the effect is upon myself, miss,” said Crow. + +“But why not make a compromise between the two?” said she. “I believe +the great painters--Vandyke, certainly--rarely took the studies from a +single head. They caught a brow here, and a mouth there, harmonizing the +details by the suggestions of their own genius. Now, what if, preserving +all this here,”--and she pointed to the head and eyes,--“you were to +fill up the remainder, partly from imagination, partly from a study.” + And as she spoke she took the brush from his hand, and by a few light +and careless touches imparted a new character to the face. + +“Oh, go on! that's admirable,--that's glorious!” exclaimed Crow, wild +with delight. + +[Illustration: 276] + +“There is no necessity to lose the expression of haughty sorrow in the +eye and brow,” continued she; “nor does it interfere with the passing +emotion he may be supposed unable to control, of proud contempt for that +priestly influence which has dominated over the ambition of a king.” + And now, as though carried away by the theme, she continued to paint as +rapidly as she spoke, while Crow busied himself in preparing the colors +upon the palette. + +“My hardihood is only intended to encourage you, Mr. Crow,” said she, +“by showing that if one like me can point the road, the journey need not +be deemed a difficult one.” As she retired some paces to contemplate the +picture, she casually glanced through a low glass door which opened upon +the lawn, and where, under the shelter of a leafy beech, a young country +girl was standing; her blue cloth cloak, with the hood thrown over her +head, gave a certain picturesque character to the figure, which nearer +inspection more than confirmed, for her features were singularly fine, +and her large, soft blue eyes beamed with a gentle earnestness that +showed Kate she was there with a purpose. + +Opening the door at once, Kate Henderson approached her, and asked what +she wanted. + +With an air of half pride, half shame, the country girl drew herself up, +and stared full and steadfastly at the speaker, and so continued till +Kate repeated her question. + +“Sure you're not Miss Mary?” replied she, by questioning her in turn. + +“No, but if I can be of any use to you--” + +“I don't think you can,” broke she in, with a manner almost haughty; +“it's somebody else I 'm wanting.” + +“If you wish to see Miss Martin, I 'll go and fetch her,” said Kate. + +“I did n't say it was her I wanted to see,” replied she, with a calm and +almost severe composure. + +“Maybe her Ladyship?” asked Kate, far more interested than repelled by +the other's manner. + +“It's none of them at all,” rejoined she. “I came here to speak to one +that I know myself,” added she, after a long pause; “and if he isn't +gone, I want to see him.” + +“Oh, I think I can guess now,” said Kate, smiling. “It is the Counsellor +from Dublin, Mr. Repton.” + +“It is no such thing,” said the girl, promptly. + +“Then it must be Mr. Crow, here.” + +An indignant toss of the head gave the negative to this surmise. + +“I have gone through all our names here,” said Kate; “and except Mr. +Massingbred--” + +“And there's the very one I want,” said the girl, boldly. + +“Step in here and rest yourself, and I 'll send for him,” said Kate; and +with such persuasive courtesy were the words uttered, that almost, as it +seemed, against her very will the girl followed her into the studio +and sat down. While Mr. Crow proceeded in search of Massingbred, Kate +Henderson, resuming brush and palette, returned to her painting; not, +however, on the grand canvas of the “Historical,” but dexterously +interposing a piece of fresh board, she seized the opportunity to sketch +the beautiful head then before her, while occupying the girl's attention +with the objects around. + +Notwithstanding her intense astonishment at all she saw, the country +girl never uttered a word, nor vouchsafed a single question as to the +paintings; she even tried to moderate the eager pleasure they afforded +by an endeavor not to admire them. Touched by the native pride of this +struggle,--for struggle it was,--the features had assumed a look of +haughty composure that well became the character of her beauty, and +Kate caught up the expression so rapidly that her sketch was already +well-nigh completed when Massing-bred entered. + +“My dear Mistress Joan,” cried he, shaking her cordially by both hands, +“how glad I am to see you again! It was but this very moment I was +inquiring how I could go over and pay you a visit.” + +Hurriedly as these words were uttered, and in all the apparent fervor +of hearty sincerity, they were accompanied by a short glance at Kate +Henderson, who was about to leave the room, that plainly said, “Remain +where you are, there is no mystery here.” + +“I thank yer honer kindly,” said Joan Landy, “but it's no good coming, +he is n't there.” + +“Not there!--how and why is that?” + +“Sure _you_ ought to know better than me,” said she, fixing her large +eyes full upon him. “Ye left the house together, and _he_ never came +back since.” + +“Oh, perhaps I can guess,” said Jack, pausing for a moment to reflect. +“He might have deemed it safer to keep out of the way for a day or two.” + +“It's no good deceivin' me, sir,” said she, rising from her seat; “tell +me the whole truth. Where is he?” + +“That is really more than I can say, my dear Mistress Joan. We parted in +Oughterard.” + +“And you never saw him after?” + +“Never, I assure you.” + +“And you never tried to see him?--you never asked what became of him?” + +“I concluded, indeed I was certain, that he returned home,” said Jack, +but not without some confusion. + +“Ay, that was enough for you,” said she, angrily. “If you were a poor +labor in' man, you 'd not desert him that had you under his roof and +gave you the best he had; but because ye 're a gentleman--” + +“It is precisely for that reason I can't suffer you to think so meanly +of me,” cried Jack. “Now just hear me for one moment, and you'll see how +unjust you've been.” And, drawing his chair closer to hers, he narrated +in a low and whispering voice the few events of their morning at +Oughterard, and read for her the short note Magennis had written to him. + +“And is that all?” exclaimed Joan, when he concluded. + +“All, upon my honor!” said he, solemnly. + +“Oh, then, wirra! wirra!” said she, wringing her hands sorrowfully, “why +did I come here?--why did n't I bear it all patient? But sure my heart +was bursting, and I could not rest nor sleep, thinking of what happened +to him! Oh, yer honer knows well what he is to _me!_” And she covered +her face with her hands. + +“You have done nothing wrong in coming here,” said Jack, consolingly. + +“Not if he never hears of it,” said she, in a voice tremulous with fear. + +“That he need never do,” rejoined Jack; “though I cannot see why he +should object to it. But come, Mrs. Joan, don't let this fret you; +here's a young lady will tell you, as I have, that nobody could possibly +blame your natural anxiety.” + +“What would a young lady know about a poor creature like _me?_” + exclaimed Joan, dejectedly. “Sure, from the day she's born, she never +felt what it was to be all alone and friendless!” + +“You little guess to whom you say that,” said Kate, turning round and +gazing on her calmly; “but if the balance were struck this minute, take +my word for it, you 'd have the better share of fortune.” + +Jack Massingbred's cheek quivered slightly as he heard these words, +and his eyes were bent upon the speaker with an intense meaning. Kate, +however, turned haughtily away from the gaze, and coldly reminded him +that Mrs. Joan should have some refreshment after her long walk. + +“No, miss,--no, yer honer; many thanks for the same,” said Joan, drawing +her cloak around her. “I couldn't eat a bit; my heart's heavy inside me. +I 'll go back now.” + +Kate tried to persuade her to take something, or, at least, to rest a +little longer; but she was resolute, and eager to return. + +“Shall we bear you company part of the way, then?” said Jack, with a +look of half entreaty towards Kate. + +“I shall be but too happy,” said Kate, while she turned the nearly +completed sketch to the wall, but not so rapidly as to prevent +Massingbred's catching a glimpse of it. + +“How like!” exclaimed he, but only in a whisper audible to himself. “I +didn't know that this also was one of your accomplishments.” + +A little laugh and a saucy motion of her head was all her reply, while +she went in search of her bonnet and shawl. She was back again in a +moment, and the three now issued forth into the wood. + +For all Jack Massingbred's boasted “tact,” and his assumed power of +suiting himself to his company, he felt very ill at ease as he walked +along that morning. “His world” was not that of the poor country girl at +his side, and he essayed in vain to find some topic to interest her. Not +so Kate Henderson. With all a woman's nice perception, and quite without +effort, she talked to Joan about the country and the people, of whose +habits she knew sufficient not to betray ignorance; and although Joan +felt at times a half-suspicious distrust of her, she grew at length to +be pleased with the tone of easy familiarity used towards her, and the +absence of anything bordering on superiority. + +Joan, whose instincts and sympathies were all with the humble class from +which she sprung, described in touching language the suffering condition +of the people, the terrible struggle against destitution maintained for +years, and daily becoming more difficult and hopeless. It was like a +shipwrecked crew reduced to quarter-rations, and now about to relinquish +even these! + +“And they are patient under all this?” asked Kate, with that peculiar +accent so difficult to pronounce its meaning. + +“They are, indeed, miss,” was the answer. + +“Have they any hope? What do they promise themselves as the remedy for +these calamities?” + +“Sorrow one of 'em knows,” said she, with a sigh. “Some goes away to +America, some sinks slowly under it, and waits for God's time to leave +the world; and a few--but very few--gets roused to anger, and does +something to be transported or put in jail.” + +“And Miss Martin,--does she not relieve a good deal of this misery? Is +she not of immense benefit by her exertions here?” + +“Arrah, what can a young lady do, after all? Sure it's always them that +talks most and best gets over her. Some are ashamed, and some are too +proud to tell what they 're suffering; and I believe in my heart, for +one that 's relieved there are twenty more angry at seeing how lucky he +was.” + +They walked along now for some time in silence, when Joan, stopping +short, said, “There's the house, miss; that's the place I live in.” + +“That house far away on the mountain side?” + +“Yes, miss; it's four miles yet from this.” + +“But surely you haven't to walk all that way?” + +“What signifies it? Is n't my heart lighter than when I came along this +morning? And now I won't let you come any farther, for I'll take a short +cut here across the fields.” + +“May I go and see you one of these days?” asked Kate. + +Joan grew crimson to the very roots of her hair, and turned a look on +Massingbred, as though to say, “You ought to answer this for me.” But +Jack was too deep in his own thoughts even to notice the appeal. + +“I can scarcely ask _you_ to come to _me_,” said Kate, quickly +perceiving a difficulty, “for I 'm not even a visitor at Cro' Martin.” + +“I 'm sure I hope it 's not the last time we 'll meet, miss; but +maybe,”--she faltered, and a heavy tear burst forth, and rolled slowly +along her cheek,--“maybe you oughtn't to come and see me.” + +Kate pressed her hand affectionately, without speaking, and they parted. + +“Is Joan gone?” asked Massingbred, raising his head from an attitude of +deep revery. “When did she leave us?” + +“There she goes yonder,” said Kate, pointing. “I fear me her spirits are +not as light as her footsteps. Are her people very poor?” + +“Her father was a herd, I believe,” said he, carelessly; “but she does +n't live at home.” + +“Is she married, then?” + +“I 'm not sure that she is; but at least she believes that she is.” + +“Poor thing!” said Kate, calmly, while, folding her arms, she continued +to gaze after the departing figure of the country girl. “Poor thing!” + repeated she once more, and turned to walk homewards. + +Massingbred fixed his eyes upon her keenly as she uttered the words; few +and simple as they were, they seemed to reveal to him something of +the nature of her who spoke them. A mere exclamation--a syllable--will +sometimes convey “whole worlds of secret thought and feeling,” and it +was evidently thus that Massingbred interpreted this brief expression. +“There was nothing of scorn in that pity,” thought he. “I wish she had +uttered even one word more! She is a strange creature!” + +And it was thus speaking to himself that he walked along at her side. + +“This wild and desolate scene is not very like that of which we talked +the other night,--when first we met,--Miss Henderson.” + +“You forget that we never met,” said she, calmly. + +“True, and yet there was a link between us even in those few flowers +thrown at random.” + +“Don't be romantic, Mr. Massingbred; do not, I pray you,” said she, +smiling faintly. “You _know_ it's not your style, while it would be +utterly thrown away upon _me_, I am aware that fine gentlemen of your +stamp deem this the fitting tone to assume towards 'the governess;' but +I 'm really unworthy of it.” + +“What a strange girl you are!” said he, half thinking aloud. + +“On the contrary, how very commonplace!” said she, hastily. + +“Do you like this country?” asked Massingbred, with an imitation of her +own abrupt manner. + +“No,” said she, shortly. + +“Nor the people?” + +“Nor the people!” was the answer. + +“And is your life to be passed amongst them?” + +“Perhaps,” said she, with a slight gesture of her shoulders. “Don't you +know, Mr. Massingbred,” added she, with more energy, “that a woman has +no more power to shape her destiny than a leaf has to choose where it +will fall? If I were a man,--you, for instance,--I would think and act +differently.” + +“I should like to hear what you would do if in my place,” said Jack, +with a degree of deep interest in the remark. + +“To begin, I'll tell you what I would not do,” said she, firmly. “I 'd +not waste very good abilities on very small objects; I 'd neither have +small ambitions nor small animosities. You have both.” + +“As how?” asked he, frankly, and with no touch of irritation. + +“Am I to be candid?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Even to rudeness?” + +“Cut as deeply as you like,” said he, smiling. + +“Then here goes: For the 'small ambition' I speak of, it was displayed +yesterday at dinner, when, in rivalry with that old lawyer, you +condescended to play agreeable, to out-talk him, out-quote, and +out-anecdote him. It is true you succeeded; but what a poor success it +was! how inadequate to the forces that were mustered to effect it!” + +“And now for the other count of the indictment,” said he, with a half +smile. + +“First, do you plead guilty to this one?” asked she. + +“Yes; with an 'extenuating circumstance.'” + +“What is that?” + +“Why, that _you_ were present,” said Jack, with a glance of more than +mere passing gallantry. + +“Well,” said she, after a pause, “I _did_ take some of the display to +my own share. I saw that you did n't care to captivate the young lady of +the house, and that my Lady bored you.” + +“Insufferably!” exclaimed Jack, with energy. + +“Your manner showed it,” said she, “even more than such polish ought to +have betrayed.” + +“But I 'm sure I never exhibited any signs of my martyrdom,” said he; “I +stood my torture well.” + +“Not half so heroically as you fancied I noticed your weariness before +the dinner was half over, as I detected your splenetic dislike to young +Mr. Nelligan--” + +“To young Nelligan?--then he has told you--” + +“Stop,--be cautious,” broke she in, hurriedly; “don't turn evidence +against yourself. _He_ has told me nothing.” + +“Then what do you know?” + +“Nothing; I only surmise.” + +“And what is your surmise?” + +“That he and you had met before,--that you had even been intimate,--and +now, from some misunderstanding, you had ceased to be friends. Mind, I +don't want confessions; I don't seek to learn your secrets.” + +“But you shall hear this from me,” said Massingbred, with earnestness; +“and perhaps you, so ready to blame me for some things, may see reason +to think well of me in this.” He then related, briefly, but simply, +the history of his acquaintance with Nelligan; he dwelt, not without +feeling, upon the passages of their student-life, and at last spoke of +his chance visit to Oughterard, and the accident by which he became old +Nelligan's guest. “What can you make of Joseph's conduct,” cried he; +“or how explain his refusal to meet me at his father's table? One of two +reasons there must be. He either discredits me in the character of his +friend, or shrinks, with an ignoble shame, from appearing there in his +real position,--the son of the country shopkeeper! I scarcely know if I +'d not prefer he should have been actuated by the former motive; though +more offensive to me, in _him_ it were more manly.” + +“Why not have asked him which alternative he accepted?” asked Kate. + +“Because the opportunity to wound him deeply--incurably--first presented +itself. I knew well that nothing would hurt him like the cool assumption +of not recognizing him, and I determined not to lose my vengeance.” + +“I'm a woman,” said Kate, “and I'd not have stooped to _that!_” + +It was rarely that Massingbred's emotions gave any evidence of their +working; but now his cheek grew crimson, as he said, “A man can only +measure a man's indignation.” + +“You are angry without cause,” said she, calmly; “you wish me to +pronounce a verdict on an act, and are displeased because I think +differently from you. How right I was in my guess that small animosities +were amongst your failings! You seek now to quarrel with _me!_” + +Massingbred walked along for some moments without speaking, and then +said, “You knew Nelligan formerly?” + +“Yes, we were playfellows together as children; lovers, I believe, a +little later on--” + +“And now?” broke he in. + +“And now very good friends, as the world uses that phrase. At all +events,” added she, after a brief pause, “enough his friend to be able +to say that you have wronged him by your suspicions. Joe Nelligan--or +I'm much mistaken--may feel the inequality of his position as a +something to overcome, a barrier to be surmounted; not as a disability +to contest the prizes of life even with such as Mr. Massingbred.” + +“It is _you_ now would quarrel with _me_,” said Jack, retorting her own +words upon her. “And yet,” he added, in a lower tone, “I would wish to +have you my friend.” + +“So you can, upon one condition,” replied she, promptly. + +“I accept, whatever it be. Name it.” + +“That you be your own friend; that you address yourself to the business +of life seriously and steadily, resolving to employ your abilities as a +means of advancement, not as a mere instrument for amusement; determine, +in fact, to be something besides a _dilettante_ and an idler.” + +“Is it a bargain, then, if I do this?” asked he, eagerly. + +“Yes; I promise you the high and mighty boon of _my_ friendship,” + replied she, with mock solemnity. + +“And so we seal our contract,” said he, pressing her hand to his lips, +but with an air of such respectful gallantry that the action implied +nothing bordering on a liberty. + +“And now I leave you,” said she, as she opened the wicket-gate of a +small flower-garden; “such conferences as ours must not be repeated, +or they might be remarked upon. Good-bye.” And without waiting for his +reply, she passed on into the garden, while Massingbred stood gazing +after her silently and thoughtfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. AN ELECTION ADDRESS + +“Am I behind time, Mr. Massingbred?” said Kate Henderson, as she entered +the library, about a week after the events we have last recorded,--“am +I behind time?” said she, approaching a table where the young man sat +surrounded with a mass of letters and papers. + +“Not very much,” said he, rising, and placing a chair for her; “and I +take it for granted you came as soon as you could.” + +“Yes; I have finished my morning's reading for her Ladyship, noted her +letters, answered the official portion of her correspondence, talked +the newspaper for Mr. Martin, hummed a singing lesson for Miss Mary, +listened to a grand jury story of Mr. Repton; and now, that they are all +off to their several destinations, here I am, very much at the service +of Mr. Massingbred.” + +“Who never needed counsel more than at this moment!” said Jack, running +his hands distractedly through his hair. “That 's from my father!” added +he, handing her a letter with a portentous-looking seal attached to it. + +“What a fine bold hand, and how easy to read!” said she, perusing it. +Jack watched her narrowly while she read; but on her calm impassive face +not a line nor a lineament betrayed emotion. + +“It is, then, an English borough he recommends,” said she, laying it +down; “and I suppose, looking to an official career, he is quite right. +The 'No Irish need apply' might be inscribed over Downing Street; but is +that altogether your view?” + +“I scarcely know what I project as yet,” said he. “I have no career!” + + +“Well, let us plan one,” replied she, crossing her arms on the table, +and speaking with increased earnestness. “The Martins have offered you +Oughterard--” He nodded, and she went on: “And, as I understand it, very +much on _your_ own conditions?” + +“That is to say, I'm not to damage the Tories more than I can help, nor +to help the Radicals more than I must.” + +“Is there any designation for the party you will thus belong to?” asked +she. + +“I 'm not exactly sure that there is; perhaps they 'd call me a Moderate +Whig.” + +“That sounds very nice and commonplace, but I don't like it. These are +not times for moderation; nor would the part suit _you!_” + +“You think so?” + +“I'm certain of it. You have n't got habits of discipline to serve with +a regular corps; to do anything, or be anything, you must command a +partisan legion--” + +“You're right there; I know that,” broke he in. + +“I don't mean it as flattery, but rather something a little bordering on +the reverse,” said she, fixing her eyes steadfastly on him; “for, after +all, there is no great success--I mean, no towering success--to be +achieved by such a line; but as I feel that you 'll not work--” + +“No; of that be assured!” + +“Then there are only secondary rewards to be won.” + +“You certainly do not overestimate me!” said Jack, trying to seem +perfectly indifferent. + +“I have no desire to underrate your abilities,” said she, calmly; “they +are very good ones. You have great fluency,--great 'variety,' as Grattan +would call it,--an excellent memory, and a most amiable +self-possession.” + +“By Jove!” said he, reddening slightly, “you enumerate my little gifts +with all the accuracy of an appraiser!” + +“Then,” resumed she, not heeding his interruption, “you have abundance +of what is vulgarly styled 'pluck,' and which is to courage what +_esprit_ is to actual wit; and, lastly, you are a proficient in that +readiness which the world always accepts for frankness.” + +“You were right to say that you intended no flattery!” said he, with an +effort to laugh. + +“I want to be truthful,” rejoined she, calmly. “No praise +of mine--however high it soared, or however lavishly it was +squandered--could possibly raise you in your own esteem. The governess +may perform the part of the slave in the triumphal chariot, but could +not aspire to put the crown on the conqueror!” + +“But I have not conquered!” said Jack. + +“You may, whenever you enter the lists; you must, indeed, if you only +care to do so. Go in for an Irish borough,” said she, with renewed +animation. “Arm yourself with all the popular grievances; there is just +faction enough left to last _your_ time. Discuss them in your own way, +and my word for it, but you 'll succeed. It will be such a boon to the +House to hear a gentlemanlike tone on questions which have always been +treated in coarser guise. For a while you 'll have no imitators, and can +sneer at the gentry and extol the 'people' without a competitor. Now +and then, too, you can assail the Treasury benches, where your father +is sitting; and nothing will so redound to your character for +independence.” + +“Why, where, in Heaven's name,” cried Jack, “have you got up all this? +What and how do you know anything of party and politics?” + +“Have I not been studying 'Hansard' and the files of the 'Times' for +the last week by your directions? Have I not read lives of all the +illustrious prosers you gave me to look through? And is it very +wonderful if I have learned some of the secrets of this success, or +that I should 'get up' my 'politics' as rapidly as you can your +'principles'?” + +“I wish I was even sure that I had done so,” said Jack, laughing; “for +this same address is puzzling me sadly! Now here, for instance,” and +he read aloud: “'While steadfastly upholding the rights of property, +determined to maintain in all their integrity the more sacred rights of +conscience--'Now just tell me, what do you understand by that?” + +“That rents must be paid,--occasionally, at least; but that you hope to +pull down the Established Church!” + +“Well, come,” said he, “the thing will perhaps do!” + +“I don't much like all this about 'the Palladium of the British +Constitution, and the unbroken bulwark of our dearest liberties.' We are +in Ireland, remember, where we care no more for your Palladium--if we +ever knew what it meant--than we do for the 'Grand Lama.' A slight +dash of what is called 'nationality' would be better; very vague, very +shadowy, of course. Bear in mind what Lady Dorothea told us last night +about the charm of the king's bow. Everybody thought it specially meant +for himself; it strikes me that something of this sort should pervade an +election address.” + +“I wish to Heaven you 'd write it, then,” said Jack, placing a pen in +her fingers. + +“Something in this fashion,” said she, while her hands traced the lines +rapidly on the paper:-- + +“'Finding that a new era is about to dawn in the political state of +Ireland, when the consequences of late legislation will engender new +conditions and relations, I present myself before you to solicit +the honor of your suffrages, a perfect stranger to your town, but no +stranger to the wants and necessities of that nationality which now, for +the first time for centuries, is about to receive its due development.' + +“Or this, if you prefer it,” said she, writing away rapidly as before:-- + +“'The presumption of aspiring to your representation will, perhaps, +be compensated when I come before you deeply impressed with the wrongs +which centuries of legislation have enacted, and which, stranger as I +am in Ireland, have arrested my attention and engaged my sympathies, +impelling me to enter upon a public career; and, if favored by your +approval, to devote whatever energy and capacity I may possess to your +great and good cause.'” + +“I like the first best,” said Jack. “The new era and the results of +the Relief Bill will be such appetizing suggestions. There must be an +allusion to the Martins and their support.” + +“Rather, however, as though _you_ had brought over Martin to _your_ +views, than that _he_ had selected you to represent his. In this wise:” + and again she wrote,-- + +“'It is with a just pride that I announce to you that in these +professions I am strengthened by the cordial approval and support of one +who, in his rank and station, and natural influence, is second to none +in this great county; and who, whatever misconceptions have hitherto +prevailed as to his views, is, heart and soul, a true patriot and an +Irishman!' + +“It will puzzle him sorely to guess what line he should adopt to realize +all this, and he'll have to come to _you_ for his politics!” + +“You have caught up the cant of this peculiar literature perfectly,” + said Massingbred, as he pored over the papers she had just penned. + +“Dear me!” cried she, in a weary tone, “my great difficulty will be +to discard its evil influence, and even write a common note like a +reasonable being again.” + +“But come, confess frankly: you think that a political career is the +only one worth embracing, and that any other life offers no reward +worthy the name?” + +“I think you mistake me,” said she. “It is the social position +consequent upon success in a political life that I value,--the eminence +it confers in the very highest and greatest circles. If I regarded the +matter otherwise, I'd not be indifferent as to the line to follow--I 'd +have great convictions, and hold them,--I mean, if I were _you_.” + +“Then of course you consider me as one who has none such?” + +“To be sure I do. Men of your measures of ability can no more burden +themselves with principles than a thoroughbred hackney can carry extra +weight,--they 've quite enough to do to make their running without.” + +“Well, I shall certainly not be spoiled by flattery, at least from you,” + said Jack, laughing. + +“They who know you less will make up for it all, depend upon it,” said +she, quietly. “Don't fancy, Mr. Massingbred,” added she, with more +earnestness of manner,--“don't fancy that I 'm insensible to the +impertinences I have dared to address to you, or that I venture upon +them without pain; but when I perceived that you would admit me to the +liberty of criticising your conduct, character, and manners, I thought +that I might render you good service by saying what better taste and +better breeding would shrink from, and the only cost be the dislike of +myself.” + +“You took a very bad way to accomplish the latter,” said Jack, +fervently. + +“I did n't give it much consideration,” said she, haughtily. “It was +very little matter what opinion you entertained of 'the governess.'” + +“I should like to convince you that you were wrong,” said he, looking +fixedly at her. + +“You'd find your task harder than you suspect, sir,” said she, coldly. +“There is a sense of pride about the humbleness of a station such as +mine, as all the elevation of one in yours could never fathom. And,” + added she, in a still more determined tone, “there is but one condition +on which this intercourse of ours can continue, which is, that this +topic be never resumed between us. The gulf that separates your position +in life from mine is the security for mutual frankness; to attempt to +span it over by deception would be to build a bridge that must break +down the first moment of its trial. Enough of this! I'll take these,” + said she, gathering up the papers, “and copy them out clearly. They +ought to be with the printer to-morrow; and, indeed, you should not +defer your canvass.” + +Massingbred made no answer, but sat with his head buried between his +hands. + +“I'd have you to visit the 'dear constituency' at once, Mr. +Massingbred,” said she, with a slight touch of scorn in her voice. “They +are not well bred enough to bear a slight!” And with this she left the +room. + +“I should like excessively to know the secret of this interest in my +behalf,” said Jack, as he arose and slowly walked the room. “It is not, +unquestionably, from any high estimate of my capacity; as little is it +anything bordering on regard; and yet,” added he, after a pause, “there +are moments when I half fancy she could care for me,--at least I know +well that I could for _her_, Confound it!” cried he, passionately, +“what a terrible barrier social station throws up! If she were even some +country squire's daughter,--portionless as she is,--the notion would +not be so absurd; but 'the governess!' and 'the steward!' what frightful +figures to conjure up. No, no; that's impossible. One might do such a +folly by retiring from the world forever, but that would be exactly to +defeat the whole object of such a match. She is essentially intended for +'the world;' every gift and grace she possesses are such as only have +their fitting exercise where the game of life is played by the highest, +and for the heaviest stakes! But it is not to be thought of!” + +“Have I found you at last?” cried Repton, entering the room. “They say +the writ will be here on Monday, so that we 've not an hour to lose. +Let us drive over to Oughterard at once, see the editor of the +'Intelligence,' call on Priest Rafferty, and that other fellow--the +father of our young friend here.” + +“Mr. Nelligan,” said Jack. “But I can't well visit _him_--there have +been some rather unpleasant passages between us.” + +“Ah! you told me something about it. He wanted you to fill a bail-bond, +or do something or other, rather than shoot _me_. An unreasonable old +rascal! Never mind; we shall come before him now in another character, +and you 'll see that he'll be more tractable.” + +“The matter is graver than this,” said Jack, musingly; “and our +difference is serious enough to make intercourse impossible.” + +“You shall tell me all about it as we drive along,--that is, if it be +brief and easy to follow, for my head is so full of election matters +I don't desire a new element of complication. Step in now, and let +us away.” And with this he hurried Massingbred to the door, where a +pony-phaeton was in waiting for them. + +Once on the road, Repton changed the conversation from the domain of +politics, and talked entirely of the host and his family. There was a +sort of constitutional frankness and familiarity about the old lawyer +which all the astute habits and instincts of his profession had +never mastered. Like a great many acute men, his passion for shrewd +observation and keen remark overbore the prudent reserve that belongs to +less animated talkers, and so he now scrupled not to dis-cuss Martin and +his affairs to one who but a few days back had been a complete stranger +amongst them. + +At first Jack heard him without much interest, but, as he continued, the +subject attracted all his attention, full as it was of views of life and +the world perfectly new and strange to him. + +To Massingbred's great astonishment, he learned that vast as the +estates, and large as was the fortune of the Martins, that they were +deeply encumbered with bond-debts and mortgages. The wasteful habits of +the gentry generally, combined with great facilities for obtaining money +at any emergency, had led to this universal indebtedness; and, in fact, +as the lawyer expressed it, an old estate was supposed to be the victim +of debt, as an elderly gentleman was liable to gout; nobody presuming to +think that the tenure, in either case, was a whit the more precarious on +account of the casualty. + +“Now,” said Repton, as they reached a point of the road from which a +view of the country could be obtained for miles on every side--“now, as +far as you can see belongs to Martin. Beyond that mountain yonder, too, +there is a large tract--not very productive, it is true--extending to +the sea. The fine waving surface to your left is all tillage land; and +the islands in the bay are his. It is really a princely estate, with +even greater hidden resources than those palpable and open to view. But, +were I to show it to you on a map, and point out at the same time every +spot on which some moneylender has a claim--how much has been advanced +upon this--what sums have been lent upon that--you 'd be more amazed at +the careless ease of the proprietor than you now are at the extent of +his fortune.” + +“But he is spending immensely in improving and developing the property,” + said Jack. + +“Of course he is, sir. That new-fangled notion of 'gentleman-farming +'--which has come to us from countries where there are no +gentlemen--won't suit Ireland, at least in the present generation. What +_we_ want here is, not to make more money, but to learn how to spend +less; and although the first very often teaches the last, it is a hard +way for an Irishman to acquire his knowledge. There's your borough, +sir,--that little spot in the valley yonder is Oughterard. Do you feel, +as you behold it, as though it were to be the mainspring of a great +career? Is there an instinctive throb within that says, 'The honorable +member for Oughterard will be a great name in the “Collective Wisdom +“'?” + +“I can scarcely say yes to that appeal,” said Jack, smiling; “though, if +what you have just told me of the mediocrity of public men be true--” + +“Can you doubt it? You have them all before you,--their lives, their +sayings, and their doings. Show me one in the whole mass who has +originated a new idea in politics, or developed a new resource in the +nation. Do they exhibit the common inventiveness displayed in almost +every other walk of life, or do they even dress up their common +platitudes in any other garb than the cast-off clothes of their +predecessors? Mediocrity is a flattery when applied to them. But what's +this coming along behind us, with such clattering of hoofs?” + +“A tandem, I think,” said Jack, looking backward, “and very well +handled, too.” + +“Oh, that illustrious attorney, Mr. Scanlan, I 've no doubt. Let us draw +up till he passes.” And so saying, Repton moved to one side of the road, +giving a wide space for the other to proceed on his way. Mr. Scanlan, +however, had subdued his nags, by a low, soft whistle, to a half-trot, +when, giving the reins to his servant, he descended and advanced to the +carriage. “I've been in pursuit of you, gentlemen,” said he, touching +his hat courteously, “for the last four miles, and I assure you you 've +given me a breathing heat of it. Mr. Martin requested me to hand you +this note, sir,” added he, addressing Repton, “which demands immediate +attention.” + +The note was marked “Instantaneous,” and “Strictly private,” on the +cover, and Repton opened it at once. Its contents were as follows,-- + + “Dear Rep.,--The post has just arrived, with intelligence + that Harry is coming home,--may be here within a week or + so,--so that we must not go on with our present plans for + the borough, as H., of course, will stand. Come back, + therefore, at once, and let as talk over the matter + together. + + “Yours, in haste, + + “G. M.” + + +“You know what this contains, perhaps?” said Repton, in a whisper to +Scanlan. He nodded an assent, and the old lawyer re-read the note. “I +don't see my way here quite clearly,” added he, in the same subdued +voice, to Scanlan. + +“I'll stroll on and stretch my legs a bit,” said Jack, springing out of +the pony phaeton, and seeing that the others had some private matter of +discussion; and Scanlan now drew nigh, while Repton informed him what +the note contained. + +“It's a little too late for this now,” said Scanlan, gravely. + +“How do you mean too late?” asked Repton. + +“Why, that Massingbred stands well with the people in the borough. They +think that he 'll be more their man than Martin's, and, indeed, they 're +so confident of it, I half suspect he has told them so.” + +“But there has been no canvass as yet,--his address isn't even printed.” + +“There has been a correspondence, however,” said Scanlan, with a knowing +wink. “Take my word for it, Mr. Repton, he 's a deep fellow.” + +“Are you quite sure of this?--can you pledge yourself to its truth?” + +“I only know that Father Rafferty said the night before last he was +satisfied with him, and the one difficulty was about old Nelligan, who +somehow is greatly incensed against Massingbred.” + +“He 'd have no chance in the borough without us,” said Repton, +confidently. + +“If old Dan would consent to spend the money, he'd be the member in +spite of us,” rejoined Scanlan. + +“I'll not dispute local knowledge with you, sir,” said Repton, +peevishly. “Let us turn back at once. Where's Mr. Massingbred? I saw him +standing on the hill yonder a few minutes ago; maybe, he 's strolling +along the road in front.” Repton moved forward to a rising spot of +ground, from whence a wide view extended for a distance on every side, +but no trace of Massingbred could be discovered. “What can have become +of him?--has he turned towards Cro' Martin?” asked Repton. + +“There he is,” cried Scanlan, suddenly; “there he is, walking +with Magennis. They're taking the short cut over the hills to +Oughterard--that's unfortunate, too!” + +“How so?” + +“Why, before they're in the town they'll be as thick as two +pickpockets--see how they 're talking! I think, if I was to drive on, +I'd catch them before they entered the town.” + +“Do so, then, Scanlan. Say that a sudden message from Mr. Martin +recalled me, but that you'll drive him back with you to Cro' Martin.” + +“Am I to allude to the contents of the note, sir?” + +“I think not; I opine it's best not to speak of it. Say, however, that +something of importance has occurred at Cro' Martin, and suggest to him +that the sooner he returns thither the better.” + +There was an amount of vacillation and uncertainty about Repton's +manner as he uttered these few words that showed not only how gravely he +regarded the crisis, but how totally unprepared he found himself for +the emergency. Not so Scanlan, who took his seat once more on his lofty +“buggy,” and was soon spinning along the road at a pace of full twelve +miles the hour. + +As Repton drove back to Cro' Martin, he thought once, and not without +humiliation, of his late lessons in statecraft to young Massingbred. “To +fancy that I was instilling all these precepts at the very moment +that he was countermining us. The young villain is a worthy son of his +father! And how he will laugh at me, and make others laugh too! It will +never do to drive him into opposition to us. Martin must consent to make +the best of it, now, and accept him as his member,--for the present, +at least. With time and good opportunity we can manage to trip up his +heels, but, for the moment, there's no help for it.” And with these +not very consoling reflections he entered once more the grounds of Cro' +Martin Castle. + +Let us now turn to Massingbred, as, accompanied by Magennis, he walked +at a rapid pace towards Oughterard. It needed but a glance at the +figures, and the rate at which they moved, to see that these two men +were bent upon an object. + +“Don't you see the town now before you?” said Magennis. “It's not much +above two miles, and by the road it is every step of six, or six and a +half; and if we walk as we're doing now, we'll be there at least twenty +minutes before them.” + +“But what will Repton think of my leaving him in this fashion?” + +“That it was a bit of your usual eccentricity,--no more,” said the +other, laughing. + +“You are quite certain of what you've just told me?” asked Jack, after a +pause. + +“I tell you that you shall have it from Hosey's own lips. He showed the +post-mark on the back of the letter to Father Rafferty, and it was 'Cape +Town, August 24.' Now, as Hosey knows young Martin's writing as well as +any man, what doubt can there be about it?” + +“By that calculation,” said Jack, thoughtfully, “he might be here within +the present month!” + +“Exactly what Father Neal said.” + +“A shrewd fellow that same Hosey must be to put things together in this +fashion,” said Jack. “Such a head as he has on his shoulders might n't +be a bad counsellor at this moment.” + +“Just come and talk to him a bit,” rejoined Magennis; “say you want +to be trimmed about the whiskers, and he'll be a proud man to have you +under his hand.” + +“And the committee are satisfied with my letter?” asked Jack. + +“They are, and they are not; but, on the whole, they think it's a step +in the right direction to get anything out of the Martins, and, as +Father Neal remarks, 'where we can pass with our head, we can put our +whole body through.'” + +“But what 's to be done about Nelligan? The breach with him is, I +suspect, irreparable.” + +“Why, it was Nelligan himself moved the first resolution in the +committee, that your address be accepted as embodying the views--he said +the present views--of the liberal electors.” + +“You amaze me!” cried Massingbred; “and Joe, where was he?” + +“Joe is off to Dublin; there 's some examination or other he must +attend. But old Dan is your friend, rely upon that.” + +“This is inexplicable,” muttered Jack to himself. + +“We 'll go there, straight, the moment we get into the town. He 'll take +it as a great compliment; and you can talk to him frankly and openly, +for old Dan is a man to be trusted.” + +“I wish I could guess at how this reconciliation has been effected,” + muttered Jack. + +“It was your letter did it, I think.” + +“But I never wrote one.” + +“Well, somebody else did, perhaps; at all events, Dan had an open letter +in his hand when he addressed the committee, and said, 'After reading +this, gentlemen,' said he, 'I can only say that I 'll not oppose Mr. +Massingbred; and if the free and independent men of Oughterard ask +me who is the man to represent them, I'll answer, he 's your man! +And what's more, there 's my name down for two hundred pounds for the +election, if it ever comes to be a contest!'” + +“This is all very good, but very strange news,” cried Jack. + +“Well, I can explain nothing of the mystery, if there be one. I only +know what I heard and saw myself.” + +“Let us go to his house, at all events,” said Massingbred, who now +suffered his companion to rattle on about the state of parties and +politics in Oughterard, little heeding his remarks, and only bent on +following out his own thoughts. “Give whom the slip?” asked he, suddenly +catching at the last words of some observation of Magennis. + +“The Martins, of course,” resumed the other; “for, as Father Neal says, +'if we can secure the borough for you, you can well afford to stand by +_us_; but if you were only Martin's member, he 'd drop you whenever it +suited him.'” + +“As to-morrow, for instance, if his son should make his appearance!” + +“Just so; and that's the very reason for not losing a minute about +getting the Martins in for the cost. What can they say, after choosing +you and putting you forward?” + +“They might make a personal appeal to me,--a distinct request to give +place to the son.” + +“And would n't you pay great attention to it?” said Magennis, in +mockery. + +“I 'm not so very sure I 'd refuse,” said Massingbred, slowly. + +“Faith, then, you 'd better be candid enough to tell the electors so 'at +once.' Look now, Mr. Massingbred,” said he, coming to a dead halt, and +standing directly in front of him; “we don't go the same road, not one +step, till I hear from you, distinctly and plainly, what you mean to +do.” + +“This is somewhat of a peremptory proceeding,” replied Jack. “I think it +would not be very unreasonable to allow a man in my situation a little +time for reflection.” + +“Reflect upon what?” cried Magennis. “Is it what politics you 'd be? If +that's what you mean, I think you 'd better say nothing about it.” + +“Come, come, Mac, you are not quite fair in this business; there _are_ +difficulties,--there are embarrassments very often in the way of doing +things which we have made up our minds to do. Now, if I were perfectly +certain that the liberal interest here could succeed in spite of +Martin--” + +“So it will.” + +“You're sure of that?” + +“I 'll show it to you on paper. We 'd rather have Martin with us and no +contest, because it's cheaper; but if it must come to money, we 'll do +it.” + +“Satisfy me on that point, and I'm with you; there's my hand on't!” + +And Magennis grasped him in his own strong fingers to ratify the +contract. + +While “Mac” went on to give some insight into the views and wishes of +his party, they reached the town and entered the main street, and held +their way towards old Nelligan's shop. + +“That's Father Neal's pony at the door,” said Mac, as they approached +the shop; “so we'll find them both together.” + +“I scarcely think I can enter here,” said Massingbred, “after what +passed last between us. We surely did not part as friends.” + +“How little you know about us at all!” said Mac. “Old Dan bears you no +malice, I 'd lay fifty pounds on it! But, if you like, I 'll just step +in and take soundings.” + +“Do so, then,” said Massingbred, not sorry to have even a few moments to +himself for quiet thought and consideration. He was still standing, and +deeply engrossed by his reflections, when he was aroused by hearing his +name called aloud, and, on looking up, perceived Magennis beckoning to +him from a window overhead. In obedience to the signal, Jack turned and +entered the shop, where his friend quickly joined him. “Old Dan is in +his bed, with a heavy cold and a rheumatism, but he 'll see you; and +Father Neal's with him, and Hayes, besides.” And with this information +he hurried Jack up the stairs, and led him into a darkened room, where +the figures of the priest and old Hayes were dimly discernible. Before +Massingbred had well crossed the door-sill, Nelligan called out, “Your +servant, Mr. Massingbred. I 'm more than pleased with your explanation. +Let me shake your hand once more.” + +“I'm not quite sure that I understand you,” said Jack, in a low voice; +but before he could continue, the priest advanced to greet him, followed +by old Peter. + +“Wasn't I in luck to catch him on the road this morning?” said Magennis; +“he was coming in with the old Counsellor, and just got out to walk up a +hill--” + +“Remember,” said Jack, “that I have few minutes to spare, for I must be +in waiting about the market-place when he drives in.” + +“We must have a conference, though,” said Father Neal; “there 's much to +be settled. First of all, are we to coalesce for the representation?” + +“No, no, no!” cried Nelligan. “We 'll have it our own way. If Mr. +Massingbred will be our Member, we want no help from the Martins.” + +“There 's five pounds, and I 'll make it guineas if you like,” said old +Hayes, putting a note upon the table; “but the devil a Whig or Tory +will ever get more out of Peter Hayes!” + +A very good-natured laugh from the others showed how little umbrage the +frank avowal excited. + +“We 'll not want for money, Peter, make your mind easy about that,” said +Dan. “When can you meet the committee, Mr. Massingbred? Could you say +to-night?” + +“Better to-morrow morning. I must return to Cro' Martin this evening.” + +“Certainly,--of course,” said Father Neal, blandly. “You 'll have to +come to an understanding with Mr. Martin about the borough, declare what +your principles are, and how, upon very mature consideration, you find +you can't agree with the opinions of himself and his party.” + +Magennis winked significantly at Jack, as though to say, “Listen +to _him; he 's_ the man to instruct and direct you;” and the priest +resumed:-- + +“Go on to explain that your only utility in the House could arise from +your being the exponent of what you feel to be the truth about Ireland, +the crying evils of the Established Church, and the present tenure of +land! When you throw these two shells in, sir, the town will be on fire. +He 'll reply that under these circumstances there 's no more question +about your standing for the borough; you'll say nothing,--not a word, +not a syllable; you only smile. If Repton 's by--and he 's likely to +be--he 'll get hot, and ask you what you mean by that--” + +“There 's Scanlan just driving round the corner,” said Magennis, in a +whisper; and Massingbred arose at once and drew nigh to the bedside. + +“Could I say one word to you alone, Mr. Nelligan?” said he, in a low +voice. + +“Of course,” said he. And whispering the priest to take the others into +an adjoining room, old Nelligan motioned Jack to sit down beside him. + +“You said, as I came in,” said Jack, “that you were satisfied with my +explanation--” + +“To be sure I was,” broke in Dan. “All I wanted to know was, that you +acted under a misconception. That being once explained, there was no +offence on either side. Now, Catty Henderson's letter to my wife put the +thing straight at once; she showed that _your_ conduct at Cro' Martin +arose out of a notion that Joe had slighted you.” + +[Illustration: 302] + +“Have you got this letter?” asked Jack, eagerly. + +“Indeed, then, I have not; his mother forwarded it to Joe by the same +post; but, as I tell you I 'm satisfied, there 's an end of it.” + +“Scanlan 's asking for you below stairs,” said Magennis, putting in his +head; “and I hear them saying that they didn't see you in town.” + +“All right,” said Jack; “so I'll just slip out by the garden gate and +meet him in the market-square.” And with a hurried leave-taking Jack +withdrew, his mind very far from that state of tranquil composure in +which it was his pride to affect that he invariably revelled. + +“There they go!” cried Father Neal, shortly after, as Scanlan drove +rapidly by, with Massingbred beside him. “Maybe Master Maurice won't +abuse us all round before he turns in at the gate of Cro' Martin!” + +“Massingbred is too cute to mind him,” said Magennis. + +“Ah, Tom, there 's one appeal men of his stamp are never deaf to. You +may say fifty things that won't shock them in religion or morals or good +taste; but only utter the one word 'vulgar,' and their indignation rises +at once. That's what Scanlan will do, take my word for it He 'll call us +a low set of fellows, that have no position in society,--no acceptance +anywhere.” + +“But Massingbred is a gentleman born, and he won't be led astray by such +a consideration.” + +“It is exactly for that very reason that he will,” said the priest, +stoutly. “It's a strange fact, but there 's no manner of man rates +social advantages so high as he that has them by right, and without any +struggle for them.” + +“Well,” said old Hayes, slowly, “if I once thought that of him, the +devil a vote of mine he 'd get, no matter what his principles were.” + +“And there you 're wrong, Peter,” said Nelligan. “Matters of good +manners and breeding need never be discussed between us. Mr. Massingbred +will have _his_ station; we'll have _ours_. There 's a long and weary +road before us ere we come to think of our social condition. There +'s many a cruel statute to be abolished, many a hard grievance to be +redressed.” + +“And besides that,” said Father Neal, with a shrewd twinkle in his eye, +“while we 're doing the one we 'll be helping on the other. Political +influence always did, and always will, include rank and station in the +world. When English Ministers find their best ally in the Irish Priest, +there will be no more sneers at his brogue nor his boots. Men of family +and fortune won't shrink from their contact, and maybe you 'll see +the day yet when coaches and chariots will drive up to the chapel, and +ladies in satin and velvet step out to hear Mass.” + +A prophetic view of the Millennium itself could not have astonished +old Peter Hayes more completely than did this marvellous suggestion of +Father Neal; and he moved away muttering a “Heaven grant it!” between +his teeth. + +“Where's the next meeting of the committee to be?” asked Nelligan. + +“In the Chapel House, to-morrow, at eleven. And that reminds me I 've +not sent out the summonses.” And so saying, Father Neal hastily took +leave of his friends and left the room. + +Let us take a glance at Mr. Maurice Scanlan, as, with an extra box-coat +ingeniously wrapped around his lower man, he discoursed pleasantly to +his companion while he “tooled” along towards Cro' Martin. Not a word +of politics, not a syllable on the subject of party, escaped him as +he talked. His conversation was entirely of sporting matters: the odds +against Leander, the last bettings on “Firebrand,” whether Spicy Bill +was really in bad training, as the knowing ones said, and if the course +wouldn't “puzzle the young ones” if the wet weather were to continue. + +Massingbred was sufficiently well versed in these classic themes to be +an amusing and even instructive companion, and communicated many a sly +piece of intelligence that would have been deemed priceless in “Bell's +Life;” and Scanlan quickly conceived a high estimate for one who had +graduated at Newmarket, and taken honors at Goodwood. + +“After the kind of life you 've led in England, I wonder how you endure +this country at all,” said Maurice, with real sincerity of voice and +manner. + +“I like it,” said Jack; “the whole thing is new to me, and vastly +amusing. I don't mean to say I 'd willingly pass a lifetime in this +fashion, but for a few weeks--” + +“Just so; to give you a better relish for the real thing when you go +back again,” said Maurice. + +“What a neat stepper that leader is!” said Jack, to change the topic +from himself and his own affairs. “She's a well-bred one; that's clear.” + +“Nearly full-bred; the least bit of cocktail in the world. She's out of +Crescent, that ran a very good third for the Oaks.” + +“A strong horse, and a very honest one,” said Jack. + +“Well, I bought that little mare from young Mr. Martin--the +Captain--when he was ordered out to India; I put her in training, and +ran her at the Curragh in three weeks, and won, too, the St. Lawrence +Handicap.” + +“Is Captain Martin a sporting character?” asked Jack, carelessly. + +“He is and he is not,” said Scanlan, half querulously. “He likes a safe +thing,--do you understand?” and he gave a most significant wink as he +spoke. + +“Oh, then he's close about money matters?” said Massingbred. + +“Not exactly that. He 's wasteful and spendthrift, but he'd go to the +world's end to do a knowing thing; you 've seen men of that kind?” + +“Scores of them,” replied Jack; “and they were always the easiest +fellows to be duped!” + +“Exactly my own experience,” said Scanlan, delighted to find his +opinions confirmed in such a quarter. “Now, young Martin would give five +hundred pounds for a horse to win a fifty pound cup. Don't you know what +I mean?” + +“Perfectly,” said Massingbred, with an approving smile. + +“Nobody knows the sums he has drawn since he went away,” exclaimed +Scanlan, who was momentarily growing more and more confidential. + +“There 's a deal of high play in India; perhaps he gambles,” said Jack, +carelessly. + +A significant wink and nod gave the answer. + +“Well, well,” added he, after a pause, “he 'll not mend matters by +coming back again.” + +“And is he about to visit England?” asked Massingbred, in the same easy +tone. + +“So they say,” replied Scanlan, with an effort at the easy indifference +of the other. + +“On leave, perhaps?” said Jack, indolently. + +“That 's more than I know,” replied he, and relapsed into a thoughtful +silence, during which Massingbred continued to scan his features with a +sly, downcast glance peculiar to himself. + +“You've never been in Leicestershire, Mr. Scanlan?” said he, when he +had fully satisfied himself with his examination. “Well, then, come over +there in the spring--say about March next--and pay me a visit. I 've got +a sort of hunting-box there, with a neat stable, and by that time I hope +to raise funds for a couple of nags.” + +“Trust _me_ for the horseflesh, sir. I know where to mount you this very +minute. You 're not much above eleven stone?” + +“Eleven-eight,--at least, so I used to be. Is it a bargain? Will you +come?” + +“There's my hand on't,” said the attorney, overjoyed at the prospect. + +“Mackworth, and Lord Harry Coverdale, and Sir Went-worth Danby, and +a few more, are all my neighbors. Capital fellows, whom you 'll be +delighted with. Just the sort of men to suit you,--up to everything that +means sport.” + +“Exactly what I like!” cried Maurice, in ecstasy. + +“We'll arrange it all this evening, then,” said Jack. “Just drop into my +room after they 're all gone to bed, and we'll have a talk over it. You +don't know my father, do you?” + +“I haven't that honor,” said Scanlan, with an accent of real deference +in his voice. + +“Another kind of person from these I've mentioned,” said Jack, slowly. + +“So I should suppose, sir,” said Scanlan, a tone of respect +involuntarily attaching itself to him as he addressed the son of a +Secretary of State. + +“Not that he doesn't like field sports, and all the enjoyments of a +country life. But, you know, he's an old official--a Downing Street +veteran--who really relishes public business, just as you and I would a +coursing-match, or a heavy pool at Crocky's.” + +Scanlan nodded as if in perfect assent. + +“While I say this, it's only fair to add that he has most excellent +qualities, and is a stanch friend when he takes any one up. I suspect +you 'd like him. I know he 'd like your--” + +“I 'm greatly flattered. I don't deserve--” + +“You see,” said Jack, not heeding the interruption, and assuming the +low accents of a confidential communication--“You see, he and I have not +been on the very best of terms for some time back; I 've done some silly +things--spent a little more money than he liked--and, what was still +worse in his eyes, refused a first-rate Government appointment--a really +good thing, and such as one does n't meet with every day--and now, the +only road back to his favor will be for me to come out strongly in some +shape, either as a college prizeman or in public life. I despise the +former. It's all very well for fellows like Nelligan--it's their natural +'beat,'--but for a man like _me_, one who has seen the world,--the real +world,--these are nothing more than schoolboy distinctions,--the silver +medal he brings home of a Saturday, and makes him the wonder of his +sisters for twenty-four hours. I'll have to strike out a line of my +own!” + +“No fear of you, sir,--devil a bit!” said Maurice, with a sententious +shake of the head. “Here we are now at Cro' Martin, and then there's the +first dinner-bell ringing.” + +“We shall be late, perhaps,” said Jack. + +“You'll be in good time. As for me, I haven't been asked to dinner, so +that when I drop you I 'll go down to the village.” + +“Well, then, I 'll walk over and see you in the evening,” said +Massingbred. “It seems to me--I don't know whether you are of the same +opinion, though--but it seems strongly to me that you and I ought to be +allies.” + +“If I thought I was worthy--” + +“Come, come, Scanlan, no modesty, old boy. You know you 're a devilish +clever fellow, and you no more intend to pass your life cruising after +petty-session practice in Galway, than I do to settle down here as +under-gardener.” + +“They 're all looking at us, sir, from the drawing-room window,” said +Scanlan, in a cautious voice; “don't let us appear too confidential.” + And at the same instant he extended his whip as though to point +attention to some distant object, and seem as if he were describing the +scenery. + +“Shrewd dog it is,” muttered Massingbred in soliloquy, but taking good +care to be overheard. “I 'll beat up your quarters, Scanlan, in a +couple of hours or so,” said Massingbred, as he descended from the lofty +“drag.” + +Somewhat, but not very much, later than the time appointed, Jack +Massingbred appeared in the small chamber of the “Crueskeen,”--the +humble hostel on the roadside adjoining the demesne of Cro' Martin. +Maurice Scanlan had made every preparation which the fluid resources of +the house admitted to receive his guest, but they were not destined to +be put in requisition. + +“I have only come lest you should accuse me of forgetting you, Scanlan,” + said Massingbred, as he stood in the doorway without removing his hat. +“I 'm off to Oughter-ard, having made my adieux at Cro' Martin.” + +“Left Cro' Martin, and for good!” exclaimed Scanlan. + +“If that means forever, I suspect you 're right,” replied Jack; “but +you 'll have the whole story in the morning when you go up there, and +doubtless more impartially than I should tell it. And now, good-bye for +a brief space. We shall meet soon.” And, without waiting for an answer, +he nodded familiarly, stepped briskly to the door, where a post-chaise +awaited him, and was gone, before Scanlan had even half recovered from +his astonishment and surprise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. AN AWKWARD VISITOR + +It is a singularly impressive sensation, and one, too, of which even +frequency will scarcely diminish the effect, to pass from the busy +streets and moving population of Dublin, and enter the quiet courts of +the University. The suddenness of the change is most striking, and you +pass at once from all the bustling interests of life--its cares and +ambitions, its pursuits of wealth and pleasure--into the stillness of a +cloister. Scarcely within the massive gates, and the noise of the great +capital is hushed and subdued, its sounds seem to come from afar, and +in their place is an unbroken calm, or the more solemn echoes of its +vaulted roofs. + +In a corner of the Old Square, and in a building almost entirely +occupied by the University authorities, and whose stairs had seldom +echoed beneath less reverend footsteps than those of deans and bursars, +were the chambers of Joe Nelligan. He had obtained them in this peculiar +locality as a special favor from “the Board,” as eminently suited to +his habits of study and seclusion; for his was indeed a life of +labor,--labor, hard, unremitting, and unbroken! Dreary as was the aspect +of the spot, it was one dear to the heart of him who occupied it. If it +had been the cell wherein he had passed nights of severest toil and days +of intense effort, so had it been the calm retreat into which he had +retired as a sanctuary, and at times the scene of the hallowed joy he +felt when success had crowned all his labors. Thither had he bent his +steps at nightfall, as to a home; thence had he written the few lines +which more than once announced his triumph to his father. + +Within those halls had he experienced all that he had ever tasted of +successful ambition, and in the depths of that old chair had he dreamed +away all the visions of a glorious future. The room in which he sat was +a large and lofty one, lighted by two windows deeply set in the wall. +Its sides were lined with book-shelves, and books littered the tables +and even the floor,--for it was one of his caprices to read as he lay +at full length, either on the ground or a sofa,--and the paper and pens +were scattered about in different quarters, as accident suggested. The +only thing like ornament to be seen was a lithographic print of Cro' +Martin Castle over the fireplace,--a strange exception would it seem, +but traceable, perhaps, to some remote scene of boyish admiration for +what had first awakened in him a feeling of awe and admiration; and +there it now remained, time-worn and discolored, perhaps unnoticed, or +looked on with very different emotions. Ay! these pictures are terrible +landmarks of our thoughts! I speak not of such as appeal to our hearts +by the features we loved, the eyes into whose depths we have gazed, the +lips on whose accents we have hung entranced, but even when they trace +the outlines of some spot well known to us in boyhood,--some scene of +long, long years ago. It is not alone that the “Then” and “Now” stand +out in strongest contrast, that what we were and what we are are in +juxtaposition, but that whole memories of what we once hoped to be come +rushing over us, and all the spirit-stirring emotions of early ambitions +mingle themselves with the stern realities of the present. And, after +all, what success in life, however great and seemingly unexpected it may +be, ever equals one of the glorious daydreams of our boyish ambition, +in which there comes no alloy of broken health, wasted energies, and +exhausted spirits? or, far worse again, the envious jealousy of those +we once deemed friends, and who, had we lived obscurely, still might +be such? Student life is essentially imaginative. The very division of +time, the objects which have value to a student's eyes, the seclusion +in which he lives, the tranquil frame of mind coexistent with highly +strained faculties, all tend to make his intervals of repose periods of +day-dream and revery. It is not improbable that these periods are the +fitting form of relaxation for overtaxed minds, and that the Imagination +is the soothing influence that repairs the wear and tear of Reason. + +The peculiar circumstances of young Nelligan's position in life had +almost totally estranged him from others. The constraint that attaches +to a very bashful temperament had suggested to him a certain cold and +reserved manner, that some took for pride, and many were repelled from +his intimacy by this seeming haughtiness. The unhappy course of what +had been his first friendship--for such was it with Massingbred--had +rendered him more distrustful than ever of himself, and more firmly +convinced that to men born as he had been the world imposes a barrier +that only is passable by the highest and greatest success. It is true, +his father's letter of explanation assuaged the poignancy of his sorrow; +he saw that Massingbred had proceeded under a misconception, and had +believed himself the aggrieved individual; but all these considerations +could not obliterate the fact that an insult to his social station was +the vengeance adopted by him, and that Massingbred saw no more galling +outrage in his power than to reflect upon his rank in life. + +There are men who have a rugged pride in contrasting what they were +with what they are. Their self-love finds an intense pleasure in +contemplating difficulties overcome, obstacles surmounted, and a goal +won, all by their own unaided efforts, and to such the very obscurity of +their origin is a source of boastful exultation. Such men are, however, +always found in the ranks of those whose success is wealth. Wherever the +triumphs are those rewarded by station, or the distinctions conferred +on intellectual superiority, this vainglorious sentiment is unknown. +An inborn refinement rejects such coarse pleasure, just as their +very habits of life derive no enjoyment from the display and splendor +reflected by riches. + +Joe Nelligan felt his lowly station most acutely, because he saw in it a +disqualification for that assured and steady temperament which can make +most of success. He would have given half of all he might possess in the +world for even so much of birth as might exempt him from a sneer. +The painful sensitiveness that never rested nor slept--that made him +eternally on the watch lest some covert allusion might be made to +him--was a severe suffering; and far from decreasing, it seemed to grow +with him as he became older, and helped mainly to withdraw him further +from the world. + +No error is more common than for bashful men to believe that they are +unpopular in society, and that the world “will none of them.” They +interpret their own sense of difficulty as a feeling of dislike in +others, and retire to their solitudes convinced that these are their +fitting dwelling-places. To this unpalatable conviction was Joseph +Nelligan now come; and as he entered his chambers, and closed the heavy +door behind him, came the thought: “Here at least no mortifications +can reach me. These old books are my truest and best of friends, and in +their intercourse there is neither present pain nor future humiliation!” + +It was on a dark and dreary day in winter, and in that cheerless hour +before the closing in of night, that Joseph sat thus in his solitary +home. The sound of carriage-wheels and the sharp tramp of horses' +feet--a rare event in these silent courts--slightly aroused him from a +revery; but too indolent to go to the window, he merely raised his head +to listen; and now a loud knock shook the outer door of his chambers. +With a strange sense of perturbation at this unwonted summons, he arose +and opened it. + +“The Chief Secretary begs to know if Mr. Nelligan is at home?” said a +well-powdered footman, in a plain but handsome livery. + +“Yes; I am the person,” said Joseph, with a diffidence strongly in +contrast with the composure of the other; and while he yet stood, +door in hand, the steps of the carriage were let down, and a tall +venerable-looking man, somewhat past the prime of life, descended and +approached him. + +“I must be my own introducer, Mr. Nelligan,” said he; “my name is +Massingbred.” + +With considerable confusion of manner, and in all that hurry in which +bashful men seek to hide their awkwardness, Joseph ushered his visitor +into his dimly lighted chamber. + +Colonel Massingbred, with all the staid composure of a very quiet +demeanor, had quite sufficient tact to see that he was in the company +of one little versed in the world, and, as soon as he took his seat, +proceeded to explain the reason of his visit. + +“My son has told me of the great pleasure and profit he has derived from +knowing you, sir,” said he; “he has also informed me that a slight and +purely casual event interrupted the friendship that existed between you; +and although unable himself to tender personally to you at this moment +all his regrets on the subject, he has charged me to be his interpreter, +and express his deep sorrow for what has occurred, and his hope that, +after this avowal, it may never be again thought of by either of you.” + +“There was a misunderstanding,--a fault on both sides. I was wrong in +the first instance,” said Nelligan, faltering and stammering at every +word. + +“Mr. Nelligan is in a position to be generous,” said the Colonel, +blandly, “and he cannot better show the quality than by accepting a +frank and full apology for a mere mistake. May I trust,” continued +he,--but with that slight change of tone that denoted a change of +topic,--“that you have somewhat abated those habits of severe study you +have hitherto pursued? Jack is really uneasy on that score, and wisely +remarks that great talents should be spared the penalty of great labor.” + +“I am not reading now. I have read very little of late,” said Joseph, +diffidently. + +“I can imagine what that means,” said the Colonel, smiling. “Mr. +Nelligan's relaxations would be the hard labor of less zealous students; +but I will also say that upon other grounds this must be done with more +consideration. The public interests, Mr. Nelligan,--the country, to +whose service you will one day be called on to contribute those high +abilities,--will not be satisfied to learn that their exercise should +have been impaired by over-effort in youth.” + +“You overrate me much, sir. I fear that you have been misled both as to +my capacity and my objects.” + +“Your capacity is matter of notoriety, Mr. Nelligan! your objects may be +as high as any ambition can desire. But perhaps it is obtrusive in one +so new to your acquaintance to venture on these topics; if so, pray +forgive me, and set it down to the error I have fallen into of fancying +that I know you as well personally as I do by reputation and character.” + +Before Nelligan could summon words to reply to this complimentary +speech, the door of his room was flung suddenly open, and a short, +thickset figure, shrouded in a coarse shawl and a greatcoat, rushed +towards him, exclaiming in a rich brogue,-- + +“Here I am, body and bones; just off the coach, and straight to your +quarters.” + +“What! Mr. Crow; is it possible?” cried Nelligan, in some confusion. + +“Just himself, and no other,” replied the artist, disengaging himself +from his extra coverings. “When you said to me, 'Come and see me when +you visit Dublin,' I said to myself, 'There 's a trump, and I 'll do it;' +and so here I am.” + +“You left the country yesterday. Did you bring me any letters?” asked +Nelligan; but in the uncertain tone of a man who talked merely to say +something. + +“Not a line,--not a word. Your father was over head and ears at work +this week back about the election, and it was only the night before last +it was over.” + +“And is it over?” asked Nelligan, eagerly. + +“To be sure it is. Young Massingbred is in, and a nice business it is.” + +“Let me inform you, Mr. Crow, before you proceed further--” broke in +Nelligan; but as he got so far, Colonel Massingbred laid his hand on his +arm, and said, in a bland but steady voice, “Pray allow the gentleman to +continue; his account promises to be most interesting.” + +“Indeed, then, that's what it is not,” said Crow; “for I think it's +all bad from beginning to end.” Another effort to interrupt by Nelligan +being repressed by the Colonel, Crow resumed: “Everybody trying to cheat +somebody else; the Martins wanting to cheat the borough, the borough +wanting to jockey the Martins, and then young Massingbred humbugging +them both! And there he is now, Member for Oughterard; and much he cares +for them both.” + +“Was there a contest, sir?” asked the Colonel, while by a gesture he +enforced silence on Nelligan. + +“As bitter a one as ever you saw in your life,” continued Simmy, quite +flattered at the attention vouchsafed him; “for though the Martins put +young Massingbred forward at first, they quarrelled with him before +the day for the nomination,--something or other about the franchise, or +Maynooth, or the Church Establishment. Sorra one o' me know much about +these matters; but it was a serious difference, and they split about it! +And after all their planning and conniving together, what do they do +but propose Martin's son, the man in the dragoons, for the borough! +Massingbred bids them do their worst, packs up, sets out for the town, +and makes a speech exposing them all! The next morning he comes to the +poll, with Joe's father there, and Peter Hayes, to propose and second +him. Martin drives in with three elegant coaches and four, and tries to +do the thing 'grand.' 'It's too late, sir; the people know their power,' +as Father Neal told them; and, upon my conscience, I believe it's a +most dangerous kind of knowledge. At all events, at it they go; and such +fighting and murdering nobody ever saw before. There's not a whole +pane of glass in the town, and many a skull cracked as well! One of the +wickedest of the set was young Massingbred himself; he 'd assault the +cars as they drove in, and tear out the chaps he thought were his own +voters, in spite of themselves. He has the spirit of the devil in him! +And then to hear how he harangued the people and abused the aristocracy. +Maybe he did n't lay it on well! To be sure, the Martins drove him to +it very hard. They called him a 'renegade' and a 'spy.' They ransacked +everything they could get against his character, and at last declared +that he had no qualification, and wasn't worth sixpence.” + +“And how did he answer that?” cried the Colonel, who, fixing his eyes on +the other, entirely engaged his attention. + +“I 'll tell you how he did. Just producing the title-deeds of an estate +that old Nelligan settled on him eight days before,--ay, and so well and +securely that Counsellor Repton himself, with all his cuteness, could +n't find a flaw in it. Repton said, in my own hearing, 'That 's the +cleverest blackguard in Ireland!'” + +“Mr. Crow--Crow, I say,” broke in young Nelligan. + +“Pray don't interrupt him,” said the Colonel, in a tone that seemed to +demand obedience; “I want to learn by what majority he gained the day.” + +“Thirty-eight or thirty-nine; and there's only two hundred and odd in +the borough. There may be, perhaps, a dozen of these to strike off on a +petition; but he 's all safe after that.” + +“And will they petition against his return?” + +“They say so, but nobody believes them. His father,”--and here he made a +gesture towards Nelligan,--“his father has a strong purse, and will see +him well through it all.” + +“This is very interesting news to me, sir,” said the Colonel, with +another sign to Joseph not to betray him; “for although I could well +imagine Jack Massingbred equal to such an occasion as you describe, I +was scarcely prepared to hear of the generous confidence reposed in him, +nor the prompt and able co-operation of the Liberal party.” + +“Ah, I perceive,” said Crow, with a significant motion of his eyebrows. +“You thought that his name would be against him, and that people would +say, 'Is n't he the son of old Moore Massingbred, that took his bribe +for the Union?'” + +“This is intolerable,” cried Nelligan, starting up from his seat and +speaking with all the vehemence of outraged feelings. “It is to Colonel +Massingbred himself you have dared to address this impertinence.” + +“What--how--what's this!” exclaimed Crow, in a perfect horror of shame. + +“The fault, if there be any, is all mine, sir,” said the Colonel, +pressing him down into his seat. “I would not have lost the animated +description you have just given me, uttered, as it was, in such perfect +frankness, for any consideration; least of all, at the small price +of hearing a public expression on a public man's conduct. Pray, now, +continue to use the same frankness, and tell me anything more that +occurs to you about this remarkable contest.” + +This appeal, uttered in all the ease of a well-bred manner, was quite +unsuccessful. Mr. Crow sat perfectly horrified with himself, endeavoring +to remember what possible extent of offence he might have been betrayed +into by his narrative. As for Nelligan, his shame and confusion were +even greater still; and he sat gazing ruefully and reproachfully at the +unlucky painter. + +Colonel Massingbred made one or two more efforts to relieve the +awkwardness of the incident, but so palpably fruitless were the attempts +that he desisted, and arose to take his leave. As Joe accompanied him +to the door, he tried to blunder out some words of excuse. “My dear Mr. +Nelligan,” broke in the other, with a quiet laugh, “don't imagine for +a moment that I am offended. In the first place, your friend was the +bearer of very pleasant tidings, for Jack has not condescended to write +to me about his success; and secondly, public life is such a stern +schoolmaster, that men like myself get accustomed to rather rough usage, +particularly at the hands of those who do not know us. And now, as I am +very unwilling to include you in this category, when will you come and +see me? What day will you dine with me?” + +Nelligan blushed and faltered, just as many another awkward man has done +in a similar circumstance; for, however an easy matter for you, my dear +sir, with all your tact and social readiness, to fix the day it will +suit you to accept of an almost stranger's hospitality, Joseph had no +such self-possession, and only stammered and grew crimson. + +“Shall it be on Saturday? for to-morrow I am engaged to the Chancellor, +and on Friday I dine with his Excellency. Will Saturday suit you?” asked +the Colonel. + +“Yes, sir, perfectly; with much pleasure,” answered Nelligan. + +“Then Saturday be it, and at seven o'clock,” said Massingbred, shaking +his hand most cordially; while Joe, with sorrowful step, returned to his +chamber. + +“Well, I think I did it there, at all events!” cried Simmy, as the other +entered. “But what, in the name of all that's barefaced, prevented your +stopping me? Why did n't you pull me up short before I made a beast of +myself?” + +“How could I? You rushed along like a swollen river. You were so full of +your blessed subject that you would n't heed an interruption; and as to +signs and gestures, I made twenty without being able to catch your eye.” + +“I believe I 'm the only man living ever does these things,” said Simmy, +ruefully. “I lost the two or three people that used to say they were my +friends by some such blundering folly as this. I only hope it won't do +_you_ any mischief. I trust he 'll see that you are not responsible for +my delinquencies!” + +There was a hearty sincerity in poor Simmy's sorrow that at once +conciliated Nelligan, and he did his best to obliterate every trace of +the unhappy incident. + +“I scarcely supposed my father would have forgiven Massingbred so +easily,” said Joe, in his desire to change the topic. + +“Blarney,--all blarney!” muttered Crow, with an expressive movement of +his eyebrows. + +“Father Neal himself is rather a difficult subject to treat with,” added +Joe. + +“Blarney again!” + +“Nor do I think,” continued Nelligan, “that the constituency of the +borough, as a body, are remarkable for any special liability to be +imposed on!” + +“Nor would they, had it been an Irishman was trying to humbug them,” + said Crow, emphatically. “Take my word for it,--and I 've seen a great +deal of the world, and perhaps not the best of it either,--but take _my_ +word for it, English blarney goes further with us here than all else. +It 's not that it's clever or insinuating or delicate,--far from it; but +you see that nobody suspects it. The very blunders and mistakes of it +have an air of sincerity, and we are, besides, so accustomed always to +be humbugged with a brogue, that we fancy ourselves safe when we hear an +English accent.” + +“There's some ingenuity in your theory,” said Joe, smiling. + +“There's fact in it; that's what there is,” said Crow, rising from his +seat. “I 'll be going now, for I 'm to dine with Tom Magennis at six.” + +“Is he here, too?” + +“Yes; and was n't it a piece of good luck that I did n't say anything +about him before Colonel Massingbred?” + +“Why so?” + +“Just for this, then,--that it was young Massingbred gave him a letter +to his father, recommending him for some place or other. Half of the +borough expects to be in the Treasury, or the Post-Office, or the Board +of Trade; and I was just on the tip of saying what a set of rapscallions +they were. I 'm sure I don't know what saved me from it.” + +“Your natural discretion, doubtless,” said Joe, smiling. + +“Just so; it must have been that!” replied he, with a sigh. + +“You'll breakfast with me to-morrow, Crow, at eight,” said Nelligan, as +he parted with him at the door. And Simmy, having pledged himself to be +punctual, hurried off to keep his dinner appointment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. A DAY “AFTER” + +The reaction that succeeds to a period of festivity has always an air of +peculiar sadness and gloom about it. The day after a ball, the withered +flowers, the faded decorations, the disordered furniture,--all tell +the tale of departed pleasure and past enjoyment. The afternoon of that +morning which has witnessed a wedding-breakfast,--the April landscape of +joy and grief, the bridal beauty, and the high-beating hope of the happy +lover, have all fled; and in the still and silent chambers there seems +to brood a sense of sorrow and mourning. Still with these thoughts +happier memories are mingled. The bright pageant of the past rises again +before the mind; and smiles and music and laughter and graceful forms +come back, and people space with their images. But how different from +all this was the day after the election at Cro' Martin! + +For a week had the Martins condescended to derogate from their proud +station and “play popular” to the electors of Oughterard. They had +opened their most sumptuous apartments to vulgar company, and made +guests of those they deemed inferior to their own domestics. They had +given dinners and suppers and balls and picnics. They had lavished all +the flatteries of attentions on their rude neighbors. They had admitted +them to all the privileges of a mock equality, “so like the real article +as not to be detected.” They had stored their minds with all the lives +and adventures of these ignoble intimates, so as to impart a false color +of friendship to their conversation with them; in a word, and to use one +by which her Ladyship summed up all the miseries of the occasion, they +had “demoralized” more in a week than she believed it possible could +have been effected in ten years. Let us be just, and add that my Lady +had taken the phrase bodily out of her French vocabulary, and in her +ardor applied it with its native signification,--that is, she alluded to +the sad consequences of association with underbred company, and not +by any means to any inroads made upon her sense of honor and high +principle. + +Still, whatever pangs the sacrifice was costing within, it must be owned +that no signs of them displayed themselves on the outside. Even Repton, +stern critic as he was, said that “they did the thing well.” And now it +was all over, the guests gone, the festivities ended, the election lost, +and nothing in prospect save to settle the heavy outlay of the contest, +and pay the high price for that excessively dear article which combines +contamination with disappointment. + +In her capacity of head of the administration, Lady Dorothea had assumed +the whole guidance of this contest. With Miss Henderson as her private +secretary, she had corresponded and plotted and bribed and intrigued to +any extent; and although Repton was frequently summoned to a council, +his advice was very rarely, if ever, adopted. Her Ladyship's happy +phrase--“one ought to know their own borough people better than +a stranger”--usually decided every vexed question in favor of her +judgment. + +It is a strange characteristic of human nature that at no time do people +inveigh so loudly against bad faith, treachery, and so on, as when +themselves deeply engaged in some very questionable enterprise. Now her +Ladyship had so fully made up her mind to win in this contest that she +had silenced all scruples as to the means. She had set out with some +comfortable self-assurance that she knew what was good for those “poor +creatures” infinitely better than they did. That it was her duty--a +very onerous and disagreeable one, too--to rescue them from the evil +influence of demagogues and such like; and that when represented by +a member of _her_ family, they would be invested with a pledge that +everything which proper legislation could do for them would be theirs. +So far she had the approval of her own conscience; and for all that was +to follow after, she never consulted that tribunal. It is not at all +improbable that there was little opportunity of doing so in a week of +such bustle and excitement. Every day brought with it fresh cares and +troubles; and although Kate Henderson proved herself invaluable in her +various functions, her Ladyship's fatigues and exertions were of the +greatest. + +The day after the election Lady Dorothea kept her bed. The second day, +too, she never made her appearance; and it was late in the afternoon +of the third that she stole languidly into her library, and ordered her +maid to send Miss Henderson to her. + +As Kate entered the room, she could not help feeling struck by the +alteration that had taken place in her Ladyship's appearance, who, as +she lay back in a deep chair, with closed eyes and folded hands, looked +like one risen from a long sick-bed. + +As she started and opened her eyes, however, at Kate's approach, the +features assumed much of their wonted expression, and their haughty +character was only tinged, but not subdued, by the look of sorrow +they wore. With the low and pleasant voice which Kate possessed in +perfection, she had begun to utter some words of pleasure at seeing her +Ladyship again, when the other interrupted her hastily, saying,-- + +“I want you to read to me, child. There, take that volume of Madame +de Sevigne, and begin where you see the mark. You appear weak +to-day,--tired, perhaps?” + +“Oh, a mere passing sense of fatigue, my Lady,” said Kate, assuming her +place, and preparing her book. + +“Chagrin, annoyance--disgust I would call it--are far more wearing than +mere labor. For my own part, I think nothing of exertion. But let us not +speak of it. Begin.” + +And Kate now commenced one of those charming letters, wherein the +thought is so embellished by the grace of expression that there is +a perpetual semblance of originality, without that strain upon the +comprehension that real novelty exacts. She read, too, with consummate +skill. To all the natural gifts of voice and utterance she added a most +perfect taste, and that nicely subdued dramatic feeling which lends to +reading its great fascination. Nearly an hour had thus passed, and not +a word nor a gesture from Lady Dorothea interrupted the reader. With +slightly drooped eyelids, she sat calm and tranquil; and as Kate, at +moments, stole a passing glance towards her, she could not guess whether +she was listening to her or not. + +“You'd have succeeded on the stage, Miss Henderson,” said she at length, +raising her eyes slowly. “Did it never occur to you to think of that +career?” + +“Once I had some notion of it, my Lady,” said Kate quietly. “I played +in a little private theatre of the Duchess's, and they thought that I +had some dramatic ability.” + +“People of condition have turned actors, latterly,--men, of course, I +mean; for women, the ordeal is too severe,--the coarse familiarity of a +very coarse class, the close association with most inferior natures--By +the way, what a week of it we have had! I 'd not have believed any one +who told me that the whole globe contained as much unredeemed vulgarity +as this little neighborhood. What was the name of the odious little +woman that always lifted the skirt of her dress before sitting down?” + +“Mrs. Creevy, my Lady.” + +“To be sure,--Mrs. Creevy. And her friend, who always came with her?” + +“Miss Busk--” + +“Yes, of course; Miss Busk, of the Emporium. If I don't mistake, I 've +given her an order for something,--bonnets, or caps; what is it?” + +“A head-dress. Your Ladyship told her--” + +“You 'll make me ill, child--positively ill--if you remind me of such +horrors. I told you to come and read for me, and you begin to inflict +me with what--I declare solemnly--is the most humiliating incident of my +life.” + +Kate resumed her book, and read on. Lady Dorothea was now, however, +unmistakably inattentive, and the changing color of her cheek betrayed +the various emotions which moved her. + +“I really fancy that Miss Martin liked the atrocious creatures we have +received here the past week; she certainly showed them a species +of attention quite distinct from mere acceptance; and then they all +addressed her like old acquaintance. Did you observe that?” + +“I thought that they assumed a degree of familiarity with Miss Martin +which was scarcely consistent with their station.” + +“Say highly ridiculous, child,--perfectly preposterous; for although she +will persist in a style of living very opposite to the requirements of +her position, she is Miss Martin, and _my_ niece!” + +There was now a dead pause of some seconds. At length her Ladyship +spoke:-- + +“To have been beaten in one's own town, where we own every stick and +stone in the place, really requires some explanation; and the more I +reflect upon it, the more mysterious does it seem. Repton, indeed, had +much to say to it. He is so indiscreet,--eh, don't you think so?” + +“He is very vain of his conversational powers, my Lady, and, like all +clever talkers, says too much.” + +“Just so. But I don't think him even agreeable. I deem him a bore,” + said my Lady, snappishly. “That taste for story-telling--that anecdotic +habit--is quite vulgar; nobody does it now.” + +Kate listened, as though too eager for instruction to dare to lose a +word, and her Ladyship went on:-- + +“In the first place, everybody--in society, I mean--knows every story +that can or ought to be told; and, secondly, a narrative always +interrupts conversation, which is a game to be played by several.” + +Kate nodded slightly, as though to accord as much acquiescence as +consorted with great deference. + +“It is possible, therefore,” resumed her Ladyship, “that he may have +divulged many things in that careless way he talked; and my niece, too, +may have been equally silly. In fact, one thing is clear,--the enemy +acquired a full knowledge of our tactics, and met every move we made by +another. I was prepared for all the violence, all the insult, all the +licentious impertinence and ribaldry of such a contest; but certainly +I reckoned on success.” Another long and dreary pause ensued, and Lady +Dorothea's countenance grew sadder and more clouded as she sat in moody +silence. At length a faint tinge of color marked her cheek; her eyes +sparkled, and it was in a voice of more than ordinary energy she said: +“If they fancy, however, that we shall accept defeat with submission, +they are much mistaken. They have declared the war, and it shall not +be for them to proclaim peace on the day they 've gained a victory. And +Miss Martin also must learn that her Universal Benevolence scheme must +give way to the demands of a just retribution. Have you made out the +list I spoke of?” + +“Yes, my Lady, in part; some details are wanting, but there are eighteen +cases here quite perfect.” + +“These are all cottiers,--pauper tenants,” said Lady Dorothea, scanning +the paper superciliously through her eyeglass. + +“Not all, my Lady; here, for instance, is Dick Sheehan, the blacksmith, +who has worked for the castle twenty-eight years, and who holds a farm +called Mulianahogue, on a terminable lease.” + +“And he voted against us?” broke she in. + +“Yes; and made a very violent speech, too.” + +“Well, turn him out, then,” said Lady Dorothea, interrupting her. “Now, +where 's your father? Send for Henderson at once; I 'll have no delay +with this matter.” + +“I have sent for him, my Lady; he 'll be here within half an hour.” + +“And Scanlan also. We shall want him.” + +“Mr. Scanlan will be here at the same time.” + +“This case here, with two crosses before it, what does this refer to?” + said her Ladyship, pointing to a part of the paper. + +“That's Mr. Magennis, my Lady, of Barnagheela, who has been making +incessant appeals for a renewal of his tenure--” + +“And how did he behave?” + +“He seconded Mr. Massingbred's nomination, and made a very outrageous +speech on the occasion.” + +“To be sure, I remember him; and he had the insolence--the unparalleled +insolence--afterwards to address Miss Martin, as she sat beside me in +the carriage, and to tell her that if the rest of the family had been +like her the scene that had been that day enacted would never have +occurred! Who is this Hosey Lynch? His name is so familiar to me.” + +“He is a postmaster of Oughterard, and a kind of factotum in the town.” + +“Then make a note of him. He must be dismissed at once.” + +“He is not a freeholder, my lady, but only mentioned as an active agent +of the Liberal party.” + +“Don't adopt that vulgar cant, Miss Henderson,--at least, when speaking +to _me_, They are not--they have no pretensions to be called the Liberal +party. It is bad taste as well as bad policy to apply a flattering +epithet to a faction.” + +“What shall I call them in future, my Lady?” asked Kate, with a most +admirably assumed air of innocence. + +“Call them Papists, Radicals, Insurgents,--anything, in fact, which may +designate the vile principles they advocate. You mentioned Mr. Nelligan, +and I own to you I felt ill--positively ill--at the sound of his name. +Just to think of that man's ingratitude,--base ingratitude. It is but +the other day his son was our guest here,--actually dined at the table +with us! You were here. _You_ saw him yourself!” + +“Yes, my Lady,” was the quiet reply. + +“I 'm sure nothing could be more civil, nothing more polite, than our +reception of him. I talked to him myself, and asked him something--I +forget what--about his future prospects, and see if this man, or his +father--for it matters not which--is not the ringleader of this same +movement! I tell you, child, and I really do not say so to hurt your +feelings, or to aggravate your natural regrets at your condition in +life, but I say it as a great moral lesson,--that low people are +invariably deceitful. Perhaps they do not always intend it; perhaps--and +very probably, indeed--their standard of honorable dealing is a low one; +but of the fact itself you may rest assured. They are treacherous, and +they are vindictive!” + +“Ennis Cafferty, my Lady, who lives at Broguestown,” said Kate, +reading from the list, “sends a petition to your Ladyship, entreating +forgiveness if he should have done anything to cause displeasure to the +family.” + +“What _did_ he do? that is the question.” + +“He carried a banner inscribed 'Down with Monopoly!'” + +“Mark him for eviction. I'll have no half measures. Miss Martin has +brought the estate to such a pass that we may draw the rents, but never +aspire to the influence of our property. These people shall now know +their real masters. Who is that knocking at the door?--Come in.” + +And at this summons, uttered in a voice not peculiar for suavity, Mr. +Henderson entered, bowing profoundly, and smoothing the few glossy hairs +that streaked rather than covered his bald head. A momentary glance +passed between the father and daughter; so fleeting, however, was it, +that the most sharp-eyed observer could not have detected its meaning. +Lady Dorothea was too deeply occupied with her own thoughts to waste a +second's consideration on either of them, and promptly said,-- + +“I want you, Henderson, to inform me who are the chief persons who +have distinguished themselves in this outrageous insult to us in the +borough.” + +Mr. Henderson moved from one foot to the other, once more stroked down +his hair, and seemed like a man suddenly called upon to enter on a very +unpleasant and somewhat difficult task. + +“Perhaps you don't like the office, sir?” said she, hastily. “Perhaps +your own principles are opposed to it?” + +“Na, my Leddy,” said he, deferentially, “I ha' nae principles but such +as the family sanctions. It's nae business o' mine to profess poleetical +opinions.” + +“Very true, sir,--very just; you comprehend your station,” replied she, +proudly. “And now to my demand. Who are the heads of this revolt?--for +it is a revolt!” + +“It's nae sa much a revolt, my Leddy,” rejoined he, slowly and +respectfully, “as the sure and certain consequence of what has been +going on for years on the property. I did my best, by warning, and +indeed by thwarting, so far as I could, these same changes. But I was +not listened to. I foretold what it would all end in, this amelearating +the condition of the small farmer--this raising the moral standard of +the people, and a' that. I foresaw that if they grew richer they 'd grow +sturdier; and if they learned to read, they'd begin to reflact. Ah, my +leddy, a vara dangerous practice this same habit of reflection is, to +folk who wear ragged clothes and dine on potatoes!” + +“I apprehend that the peril is not felt so acutely in your own country, +sir!” + +“Vara true, my Leddy; your remark is vara just; but there's this +difference to be remembered: the Scotch are canny folk, and we do many +a thing that might n't be safe for others, but we take care never to do +them ower much.” + +“I don't want your philosophizing, sir, about national characteristics. +I conclude that you know--it is your duty to know--whence this spirit +took its rise. I desire to be informed on this head, and also what +measures you have to advise for its suppression.” + +Another pause, longer and more embarrassing than the first, followed on +this speech, and Mr. Henderson really seemed balancing within himself +whether he would or not give evidence. + +“Your reluctance has only to go a step further, Henderson, to impress me +with the worst suspicions of yourself!” said Lady Dorothea, sternly. + +“I 'm vara sorry for it, my Leddy; I don't deserve them,” was the calm +reply. + +Had Lady Dorothea been quick-sighted, she might have detected a glance +which the daughter directed towards her father; but she had been more +than quick-minded if she could have read its meaning, so strange was the +expression it bore. + +“In plain words, sir, do you know the offenders? and if so, how can we +punish them?” + +“Your Leddyship has them all there,” said he, pointing to the list on +the table; “but there's nae sa much to be done wi' them, as the chief o' +the lot are men o' mark and means, wi' plenty o' siller, and the sperit +to spend it.” + +“I hear of nothing but defaulters till a moment like this arrives, sir,” + said her Ladyship, passionately. “The burden of every song is arrears +of rent; and now I am told that the tenantry are so prosperous that they +can afford to defy their landlord. Explain this, sir!” + +Before Mr. Henderson had completed that hesitating process which with +him was the prelude to an answer, the door opened, and Mary Martin +entered. She was in a riding-dress, and bore the traces of the road on +her splashed costume; but her features were paler than usual, and her +lip quivered as she spoke. + +“My dear aunt,” cried she, not seeming to notice that others were +present, “I have come back at speed from Kyle's Wood to learn if it be +true--but it cannot be true--however the poor creatures there believe +it--that they are to be discharged from work, and no more employment +given at the quarries. You have n't seen them, dear aunt--you haven't +beheld them, as I did this morning--standing panic-stricken around the +scene of their once labor, not speaking, scarcely looking at each other, +more like a shipwrecked crew upon an unknown shore than fathers and +mothers beside their own homesteads!” + +“It was I gave the order, Miss Martin,” said Lady Dorothea, proudly. “If +these people prefer political agitation to an honest subsistence, let +them pay the price of it.” + +“But who says that they have done so?” replied Mary. “These poor +creatures have not a single privilege to exercise; they have n't a vote +amongst them. The laws have forgotten them just as completely as human +charity has.” + +“If they have no votes to record, they have voices to outrage and insult +their natural protectors. Henderson knows that the worst mobs in the +borough were from this very district.” + +“Let him give the names of those he alludes to. Let him tell me +ten--five--ay, three, if he can, of Kyle's Wood men who took any share +in the disturbances. I am well aware that it is a locality where he +enjoys little popularity himself; but at least he need not calumniate +its people. Come, sir, who are these you speak of?” + +Kate Henderson, who sat with bent-down head during this speech, +contrived to steal a glance at the speaker so meaningful and so +supplicating that Mary faltered, and as a deep blush covered her cheek, +she hastily added: “But this is really not the question. This miserable +contest has done us all harm; but let us not perpetuate its bitterness! +We have been beaten in an election, but I don't think we ought to be +worsted in a struggle of generosity and good feeling. Come over, dear +aunt, and see these poor creatures.” + +“I shall certainly do no such thing, Miss Martin. In the first place, +the fever never leaves that village.” + +“Very true, aunt; and it will be worse company if our kindness should +desert them. But if you will not come, take _my_ word for the state of +their destitution. We have nothing so poor on the whole estate.” + +[Illustration: 330] + +“It is but a moment back I was told that the spirit of resistance to our +influence here arose from the wealthy independence of the people; now, +I am informed it is their want and destitution suggest the opposition. I +wish I could ascertain which of you is right.” + +“It's little matter if our theory does not lead us to injustice,” said +Mary, boldly. “Let me only ride back to the quarries, aunt, and tell +these poor people that they 've nothing to fear,--that there is no +thought of withdrawing from them their labor nor its hire. Their lives +are, God knows, not overlaid with worldly blessings; let us not add one +drop that we can spare to their cup of sorrow.” + +“The young leddy says na mair than the fact; they're vara poor, and they +'re vara dangerous!” + +“How do you mean dangerous, sir?” asked Lady Dorothea, hastily. + +“There's more out o' that barony at the assizes, my Leddy, than from any +other on the property.” + +“Starvation and crime are near relatives all the world over,” said Mary; +“nor do I see that the way to cure the one is to increase the other.” + +“Then let us get rid of both,” said Lady Dorothea. “I don't see why we +are to nurse pauperism either into fever or rebellion. To feed people +that they may live to infect you, or, perhaps, shoot you, is +sorry policy. You showed me a plan for getting rid of them, +Henderson,--something about throwing down their filthy hovels, or +unroofing them, or something of that kind, and then they were to +emigrate--I forget where--to America, I believe--and become excellent +people, hard-working and quiet. I know it all sounded plausible and +nice; tell Miss Martin your scheme, and if it does not fulfil all you +calculated, it will at least serve for an example on the estate.” + +“An example!” cried Mary. “Take care, my Lady. It's a dangerous precept +you are about to inculcate, and admits of a terrible imitation!” + +“Now you have decided me, Miss Martin,” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily. + +“And, good Heavens! is it for a rash word of mine--for a burst of temper +that I could not control--you will turn out upon the wide world a whole +village,--the old that have grown gray there,--the infant that clings to +its mother in her misery, and makes a home for her by its very +dependence--” + +“Every one of them, sir,” said Lady Dorothea, addressing herself to +Henderson, who had asked some question in a low whisper. “They 're +cottiers all; they require no delays of law, and I insist upon it +peremptorily.” + +“Not till my uncle hears of it!” exclaimed Mary, passionately. “A cruel +wrong like this shall not be done in mad haste.” And with these words, +uttered in all the vehemence of great excitement, she rushed from the +room in search of Martin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER + +It may save the reader some time, and relieve him from the weary task +of twice listening to the same story, if we steal some passages from a +letter which, about this time, Jack Massingbred addressed to his former +correspondent. He wrote from the inn at Oughterard, and, although still +under the influence of the excitement of the late contest, expressed +himself with much of his constitutional calm and frankness. We shall not +recapitulate his narrative of the election, but proceed at once to what +followed on that description. + +“I see, Harry, the dubious projection of your nether lip, I appreciate +the slow nod of your head, and I fancy I can hear the little half-sigh +of deprecation with which you hear all this. Worse again, I don't seek +to defend myself. I think my case a bad one; but still I feel there is +something to be said in mitigation. You need not trouble yourself to +draw up an indictment: I plead guilty--entirely guilty--to all you +can say. I _have_ broken with 'the gentlemen' to cast my lot with the +_canaille_. Why have n't we a good wholesome word of our own for a +home-made article? I _have_ deserted the ranks where, whatever fortune +befell, it was honor to fight; I have given up association with +the well-bred and the well-mannered, to rub shoulders with the +coarse-minded, the rough-hearted, and the vulgar. There is not a +reproach you can make me on this score that I have n't already addressed +to myself. I feel all the indignity of my situation,--I experience +all the insult of their companionship; but, as the lady detected in +possession of her lover's picture pleaded in her defence that it was not +like him, so I hope to arrest judgment against me by the honest avowal +that I detest and despise my party. I don't talk to _you_ about their +principles--still less do I say anything of my own--but merely advert +here to the miserable compromise a gentleman is driven to make with +every sentiment of his nature who once enlists under their flag. As +Travers told us one evening--you were of the party, and must remember +it--he was speaking of the Peninsular campaign, in which he served as +a volunteer--'So long as you were fighting,' said he, 'it was all very +well; the fellows were stout-hearted and full of spirit, and you felt +that you couldn't ask for better comrades; but when the struggle was +over--when it came to associating, living with them, hearing their +sentiments, sharing their opinions, hopes, fears, wishes, and so +on--then it became downright degradation!' Not, as he remarked, that +they were one jot more vicious or more corrupt than their betters, +but that every vice and every corruption amongst them seemed doubly +offensive by the contact with their coarse natures. Now, my friends, the +Liberals, are somewhat in the same category. They do their work right +well on the field of battle; they fight, swear, slander, and perjure +themselves just like gentlemen; or rather better of the two. They even +come down handsomely with their cash,--the last best evidence any man +can tender of his honesty in a cause; but then, Harry, the struggle +over, it is sorry work to become their companion and their friend! +Oh! if you had but seen the dinners I have eaten, and the women I have +handed down to them!--if you could have but heard the sentiments I have +cheered,--ay, and even uttered,--only listened to the projects we have +discussed, and the plans matured as we sat over our whiskey-punch,--you +'d say, 'Jack must have the ambition of the Evil One himself in his +heart, since he pays this price for the mere glimpse of the goal before +him!' + +“Throughout the whole of your last letter I can detect a sense of +apprehension lest, 'with all my tact,' as you phrase it, these people +are not really duping we,--using me for a present purpose, with the +foregone resolve to get rid of me when it be accomplished. To be sure +they are, Harry. I never doubted it for a moment. The only question is, +which of us shall trip up the other! They desire to show the world that +the operation of the Relief Bill will not be of that exclusive character +its opponents proclaimed,--that a Catholic constituency would choose a +Protestant,--even prefer one,--as Mr. O'Connell said. The opportunity +was a good one to display this sentiment, and so they took me! Now, _my_ +notion is, that every great measure can have only one real importance, +by throwing weight into the scale of one or other of the two great +Parliamentary parties. Do what you will,--agitate, write, speak, +pamphleteer, and libel,--but all resolves itself to some question of +a harm to one side and good to the other, the country the while being +wonderfully little the better or the worse for all the legislation. +We used to have a Constitution in England: we have now only got a +Parliament, and to be anything in the nation a man must make himself +felt there! This, 'if I have the stuff in me,' as old Sherry said, I +mean to do--_et nous verrons!_ + +“The fatigues of this new life are very great. I 'm up before it is well +day, writing and revising newspaper articles, answering letters, and +replying to 'queries.' I have my whole mornings taken up in audiences of +my constituents, swallowing pledges, and recording promises; and +later on I go to dinner, 'with what appetite I may,' to some one of my +faithful supporters,--some corn-chandler who spouts 'foreign politics,' +or a grocer who ought to be Colonial Secretary! But still I 'm thankful +for all this bustle and occupation: it averts reflection, it raises a +barrier against thought, and muffles the clapper of that small hand-bell +in the human heart men call their conscience! They say few men would +have courage for either a battle or a wedding if it were not for the din +of the trumpets and the joy-bells; and I'm convinced that noise--mere +noise--has no small share in determining the actions of mankind! + +“And now, Harry, for a confession. I 'm heartily sorry for the whole of +this business, and were it to be done again, nothing would tempt me to +play the same part in it. I was leading the jolliest life imaginable at +Cro' Martin. I had made the place and the people my own. It was a kind +of existence that suited me,--sufficient of occupation, and enough of +leisure. There were oddities to laugh at, eccentricities to quiz, an old +lawyer to sharpen one's wits upon, and a governess--such a governess--to +flirt with! Don't mistake me, Harry; it was not one of those +hand-pressing, downcast-gazing, low-speaking cases in which you are such +a proficient. It was far more like the approaches one might be supposed +to make to a young tigress in a cage,--a creature with whom a mistake +would be your ruin, and whom you always caressed with a sense of +impending peril. + +“I told you how ably she aided me in this contest,--how she labored to +obtain information--secret information--for me as to every voter in the +borough. What prompted her to this course I cannot fathom. She does not +appear to bear any grudge against the Martins,--she had been but a few +weeks amongst them,--and is, all things considered, well treated and +well received. As little was it any special favor towards myself. +Indeed, on that head she will not permit me to fall into any error. I +cannot suppose that with her foreign education and foreign habits she +cares a jot for the small schemes and intriguings of home politics,--so +what can it possibly mean? Help me to the solution of this riddle, and +I 'll be more deeply your debtor than I can well say. Brought up as she +has been,--and as I have told you in my last letter,--nothing would be +more natural than her adoption of every prejudice of the class by whom +she has been so singularly distinguished; and in this light I have +always viewed her. Under the calm reserve of a most polished manner you +can still detect a shrinking horror of all the vulgar association of +the rank she came from. Her quiet deference, haughtier by far than the +domination of those above her; the humility that no flatteries ever +breached; a self-possession that never seemed so strong as when +resisting the blandishments of praise,--these are strange gifts in a +young girl with beauty enough to turn half the heads of half the fools +we know of, and more than enough to make crazy that of him who writes +this. + +“I tried twenty things to resist this tendency on my part. I laughed at +myself for the absurdity it would lead to. I ridiculed to my own heart +all the extravagance of such a project. I even wrote a paragraph for the +'Times' announcing the marriage of Jack Massingbred with Kate Henderson, +the only daughter of Paul Henderson, the Land Steward, and pasted it +above my chimney to shock and outrage me. I did more. I made love to +Miss Martin--as an alterative, as the doctors would call it--but I fell +at a stone wall, got laughed at, and cured of my passion; and, lastly, I +climbed that lofty tree of my family, and sat high among the branches +of defunct barons and baronets, to get a bird's-eye view of the small +mushrooms that grow on the earth beneath, but hang me, Harry, if the +agarics did n't seem better company, and I was glad to get down amongst +them again, meaning thereby to sit beside that one dear specimen of the +class I allude to! + +“I see that you are curious to know how all these late events have +modified my relations with my father, and really I cannot answer your +inquiry. It is more than likely that my obtaining a seat in Parliament +will embarrass rather than serve him with his party, since he will be +expected to control a vote over which he can exert no influence. + +“As yet, nothing has occurred to draw us any closer, and my only +communications to him have been certain recommendatory letters, which +my constituents here have somewhat peremptorily demanded at my hands. +I gave them freely, for, after all, application is an easier task than +refusing, and besides, Harry, it is very difficult to persuade your +election friends that you cannot be a patriot and a patron at the same +time, and that, in the luxurious pastime of badgering a government, a +man surrenders some of the pretensions to place. I gave them, therefore, +all the letters they asked for; and if the Chief Secretary but answer +one half of my appeals, Galway--or at least that small portion of it +called Oughter-ard--will have no cause of complaint on the score of its +claims to office. + +“You are, I perceive, astonished that I continue to remain here. So am +I, Harry. The place is detestable in almost every way. I am beset with +entreaties, persecuted with vulgar attentions, bored to death by the +insolent familiarity of people I cannot--do all that I will--grow +intimate with; and yet I stay on, pretexting this, that, and t' other to +myself, and shrinking even to my own heart to avow the real reason of my +delay! + +“I want once again, if only for a few moments, to see her. I want to +try if by any ingenuity I could discover the mystery of her conduct with +regard to myself; and I want also, if there should be the need to do +so, to justify to her eyes many things which I have been forced by +circumstances to do in this contest. + +“I have not the slightest suspicion as to how she views all that has +occurred here. Two notes which I addressed to her, very respectful, +businesslike epistles, have not been answered, though I entreated for a +few words to acknowledge their receipt. The Martins, since the election, +seem to have quarantined the whole town and neighborhood. They suffer +none of their people to enter here. They have sent eight miles further +off to market, and even changed the post-town for their letters. Their +policy is, so far, shortsighted, as it has called into an exaggerated +importance all that small fry--like the Nelligans--who have hitherto +been crushed under the greater wealth of the rich proprietor. But I am +again drifting into that tiresome tideway of politics which I have sworn +to myself to avoid, if only for a few days; in pursuance of which wise +resolve I shall betake myself to the mountains, under the pretext of +shooting. A gun is an idler's passport, and a game-bag and a shot-pouch +are sufficient to throw a dignity over vagabondism. You will therefore +divine that I am not bent on snipe slaughter, but simply a good excuse +to be alone! + +“I mean to go to-morrow, and shall first turn my steps towards the +coast, which, so far as I have seen, is singularly bold and picturesque. +If nothing occurs to alter my determination, I 'll leave this unclosed +till I can tell you that I have come back here, which in all probability +will be by the end of the week. + +“Once more here, my dear Harry, I sit down to add a few lines to this +already over-lengthy epistle. Wishing to give you some notion of the +scenery, I set out with all the appliances of a sketcher, and have +really contrived to jot down some spots which, for general wildness +and grandeur, it would be difficult to surpass within the bounds of +our country. Nor is it alone the forms that are so striking, although +I could show you outlines here perfectly Alpine in their fantastic +extravagance; but the colors are finer than anything I have seen north +of the Alps,--heaths and lichens grouped over rugged masses of rock, +with shades of purple and gold such as no diadem ever equalled. The +sunsets, too, were gorgeous! You remember how struck we both were at the +moment when the dome and aisle of St. Peter's burst into light, and +from the darkness of midnight every column and every statue became +illuminated in a second; but a thousand times beyond this in grandeur +of effect was the moment of the sun's decline below the horizon. The +instant before, the great sullen sea was rolling and heaving with its +leaden blue surface, slightly traced here and there with foam, but no +sooner had the sun touched the horizon, than a flood of purple glory +spread over the whole ocean, so that it became like a sea of molten gold +and amber. The dark cliffs and rugged crags, the wave-beaten rocks, and +the rude wild islands, darksome and dismal but a moment back, were +now all glittering and glowing, every pinnacle and every peak in deep +carbuncle red. How suggestive to him who would describe an +enchanted land or region of magic splendor! and what a hint for your +scene-painter, who, with all his devices of Bengal and blue light, +with every trick that chemistry and optics could aid in, never fancied +anything so splendid or so gorgeous. + +“I have half filled a sketch-book for you, and more than half filled my +game-bag with mosses and ferns, and such-like gear, which, knowing your +weakness, I have gathered, but, not understanding their virtues, may, +for aught I know, be the commonest things in creation. I can only vouch +for their being very beautiful, and very unlike anything else I ever +saw before; fragments of marble, too, and specimens of Irish jasper +and onyx, are amidst my rubbish, or my treasures, whichever you shall +pronounce them to be. + +“I got through--don't fancy that the phrase denotes weariness or +_ennui_--I got through four days in these pursuits, and then I took +boat, and for three more I paddled about the coast, dipping in amongst +the cliffs and creeks and caves of this wonderful coast, gathering +shells and seaweed, and shooting curlews and eating lobsters, and, in +fact, to all intents and purposes, suffering a 'sea change' over myself +and my spirit as unearthlike as well may be imagined; and at last I +bethought me of my new openiug career, and all that I ought to be doing +in preparation of St. Stephen's, and so I turned my steps landward and +towards 'my borough.' I like to say 'my borough;' it sounds feudal and +insolent and old Torylike; it smacks of the day when people received +their representative thankfully, as an alms, and your great proprietor +created his nominee as the consul ennobled his horse! + +“Revolving very high thoughts, reciting Edmund Burke's grandest +perorations, and picturing very vividly before me the stunning triumphs +of my own eloquence in the House, I plodded along, this time at least +wonderfully indifferent to the scenery, and totally oblivious of where +I was, when suddenly I perceived the great trees of Cro' Martin demesne +shadowing the road I travelled, and saw that I was actually within a +mile or so of the Castle! You, Harry, have contrived, some way or other, +to have had a very rose-colored existence. I never heard that you had +been jilted by a mistress, 'cut' by a once friend, or coldly received by +the rich relative from whom you derived all your expectations. I am not +even aware that the horse you backed ever went wrong, or that the bill +you endorsed for another ever came back protested. In fact, you are what +the world loves best, cherishes most, and lavishes all its blandishments +on,--a devilish lucky fellow! Lucky in a capital fortune, abundance of +good gifts, good looks, and an iron constitution,--one of those natures +that can defy duns, blue-devils, and dyspepsia! Being, therefore, all +this, well received everywhere, good company where pheasants are to be +shot, Burgundy to be drunk, or young ladies to be married,--for you are +a good shot, a good wine-taster, and a good _parti_,--with such gifts, I +say, it will be very difficult to evoke your sympathy on the score of a +misfortune which no effort of your imagination could compass. In fact, +to ask you to feel what I did, as I found myself walking along _outside_ +of those grounds _within_ which, but a few days back, I was the +cherished visitor, and in sight of that smoke which denoted a hearth +beside which I was never to sit again, and from which I was banished +with something not very unlike disgrace! No sophistry I could summon was +sufficient to assuage the poignancy of this sentiment. I feel certain +that I could stand any amount of open public abuse, any known or unknown +quantity of what is genteelly called 'slanging,' but I own to you +that the bare thought of how my name might at that moment be mentioned +beneath that roof, or even the very reserve that saved it from mention, +caused me unutterable bitterness, and it was in a state of deep +humiliation of spirit that I took the very first path that led across +the fields and away from Cro' Martin. + +“They tell me that a light heart makes easy work of a day's journey. +Take my word for it, that to get over the ground without a thought of +the road, there's nothing like a regular knock-down affliction. I walked +eight hours, and at a good pace, too, without so much as a few minutes' +halt, so overwhelmed was I with sensations that would not admit of my +remembering anything else. My first moment of consciousness--for really +it was such--came on as I found myself breasting a steep stony ascent, +on the brow of which stood the bleak residence of my friend Mr. +Magennis, of Barnagheela. I have already told you of my visit to +his house, so that I need not inflict you with any new detail of the +locality, but I confess, little as it promised to cheer or rally the +spirits, I was well pleased to find myself so near a roof under which I +might take refuge. I knocked vigorously at the door, but none answered +my summons. I repeated my demand for admittance still more loudly, and +at last went round to the back of the house, which I found as rigidly +barred as the front. While still hesitating what course to take, I +spied Joan Landy--you remember the girl I spoke of in a former +letter--ascending the hill at a brisk pace. In a moment I was beside +her. Poor thing, she seemed overjoyed at our meeting, and warmly +welcomed me to her house. 'Tom is away,' said she, 'in Dublin, they tell +me, but he 'll be back in a day or two, and there 's nobody he 'd be so +glad to see as yourself when he comes.' In the world, Harry,--that is, +in your world and mine,--such a proposition as Joan's would have its +share of embarrassments. Construe it how one might, there would be at +least some awkwardness in accepting such hospitality. So I certainly +felt it, and, as we walked along, rather turned the conversation towards +herself, and whither she had been. + +“'I 'm not more than half an hour out of the house,' said she, 'for I +only went down the boreen to show the short cut by Kell Mills to a young +lady that was here.' + +“'A visitor, Mrs. Joan?' + +“'Yes. But to be sure you know her yourself, for you came with her the +day she walked part of the way back with me from Cro' Martin.' + +“'Miss Henderson?' + +“'Maybe that's her name. She only told me to call her Kate.' + +“'Was she here alone?--did she come on foot?--which way is she gone?' +cried I, hurrying question after question. Perhaps the tone of my last +was most urgent, for it was to that she replied, by pointing to a +glen between two furze-clad hills, and saying, 'That's the road she 's +taking, till she crosses the ford at Coomavaragh.' + +“'And she is alone?' + +“'That she is; sorra a one with her, and she has five good miles before +her.' + +“I never waited for more. If I did say good-bye to poor Joan, I really +forget; but I dashed down the mountain at speed, and hurried onward in +the direction she had pointed out. In an instant all my fatigue of the +day was forgotten, and as I went along I remembered nothing, thought of +nothing, but the object of my pursuit. + +“You who have so often bantered me on the score of my languor--that +'elegant lassitude,' as you used to call it, which no zeal ever warmed, +nor any ardor ever could excite--would have been somewhat astonished +had you seen the reckless, headlong pace at which I went,--vaulting +over gates, clearing fences, and dashing through swamps, without ever a +moment's hesitation. Picture to yourself, then, my splashed and heated +condition as, after a two-miles' chase in this fashion, I at length +overtook her, just as she was in search of a safe spot to ford the +river. Startled by the noise behind her, she turned suddenly round, and +in an instant we stood face to face. I 'd have given much to have seen +some show of confusion, even embarrassment in her looks, but there was +not the slightest. No, Harry, had we met in a drawing-room, her manner +could not have been more composed, as she said,--'Good-morning, Mr. +Massingbred. Have you had much sport?' 'My chase was after _you_, Miss +Henderson,' said I, hurriedly. 'I just reached Barnagheela as Mistress +Joan returned, and having learned which road you took, followed you in +all haste.' + +“'Indeed!' exclaimed she, and in a voice wherein there were blended a +vast variety of meanings. + +“'Yes,' I resumed, 'for an opportunity of meeting you alone--of speaking +with you even for a few moments--I have delayed my departure this week +back. I wrote to you twice.' + +“'Yes; I got your letters.' + +“'But did not deign to answer them.' + +“' I did not write to you, because, situated as _I_ was, and regarded as +_you_ were at Cro' Martin, there would have been a species of treason +in maintaining anything like correspondence, just as I feel there is +somewhat akin to it in our intercourse at this moment.' + +“'And have the events occurring lately changed _your_ feeling with +regard to me?' asked I, half reproachfully. + +“'I don't exactly know to what former condition you refer, Mr. +Massingbred,' said she, calmly. 'If to the counsels which you were +gracious enough to receive at hands humble and inexperienced as +mine, they were given, as you remember, when you were the chosen +representative of the family at Cro' Martin, and continued only so long +as you remained such.' + +“'Then I have deceived myself, Miss Henderson,' broke I in. 'I had +fancied that there was a personal good-will in the aid you tendered me. +I even flattered myself that I owed my success entirely and solely to +your efforts.' + +“'You are jesting, Mr. Massingbred,' said she, with a saucy smile; 'no +one better than yourself knows how to rely upon his own abilities.' + +“'At least, confess that it was you who first suggested to me that they +were worth cultivating; that it was _you_ who pointed out a road to +me in life, and even promised me your friendship as the price of my +worthily adopting it!' + +“'I remember the conversation you allude to. It was on this very road it +occurred.' + +“'Well, and have I done anything as yet to forfeit the reward you spoke +of?' + +“'All this is beside the real question, Mr. Massingbred,' said she, +hurriedly. 'What you are really curious to learn is, why it is that I, +being such as I am, should have displayed so much zeal in a cause which +could not but have been opposed to the interests of those who are my +patrons. That you have not divined the reason is a proof to me that I +could not make you understand it. I don't want to talk riddles,--enough +that I say it was a caprice.' + +“'And yet you talked seriously, persuasively to me, of my future road +in life; you made me think that you saw in me the qualities that win +success.' + +“'You have a wonderful memory for trifles, sir, since you can recall so +readily what I said to you.' + +“'But it was not a trifle to me,' said I. + +“'Perhaps not, Mr. Massingbred, since it referred to yourself. I don't +mean this for impertinence!' + +“'I am glad that you say so!' cried I, eagerly. 'I am but too happy +to catch at anything which may tend to convince me that you would not +willingly hurt my feelings.' + +“For several minutes neither of us uttered a word; at last I said, +'Should I be asking too much, if I begged Miss Henderson to tell me +whether she is dissatisfied with anything I may have done in this +contest? There may be matters in which I have been misrepresented; +others of which I could make some explanation.' + +“'Are you quite satisfied with it yourself, sir?' said she, interrupting +me. + +“'No,' said I; 'so little am I so, that were it all to do over again, I +'d not embark in it. The whole affair, from beginning to end, is a false +position.' + +“'Ignoble associates--low companionships--very underbred acquaintances,' +said she, in a tone of scorn that seemed far more directed at _me_ than +the others. I believe I showed how I felt it. I know that my cheek was +on fire for some seconds after. + +“'The Martins, I take it, are outrageous with me?' said I, at last. + +“'They never speak of you!' was the reply. + +“'Not my Lady?' + +“'No!' + +“'Nor even Repton?' + +“'Not once.' + +“'That, at least, is more dignified; and if any accident should bring us +together in county business--' + +“'Which is not likely.' + +“'How so?' asked I. + +“'They are going away soon.' + +“'Going away--to leave Cro' Martin--and for any time?' + +“'My Lady speaks of the Continent, and that, of course, implies a long +absence.' + +“'And has this miserable election squabble led to this resolve? Is the +neighborhood to be deprived of its chief ornament--the people of their +best friend--just for the sake of a petty party triumph?' + +“'It is fortunate Mr. Massingbred's constituents cannot hear him,' said +she, laughing. + +“'But be serious, and tell me how far am I the cause of all this.' + +“'The whole cause of it,--at least, so far as present events can +reveal.' + +“'How they must abhor me!' said I, half involuntarily. + +“'_Avec les circonstances atténuantes_,' said she, smiling again. + +“'How so?--what do you mean?' + +“'Why, that my Lady is thankful at heart for a good excuse to get +away,--such a pretext as Mr. Martin himself cannot oppose. Repton, +the Grand Vizier, counsels economy, and, like all untravelled people, +fancies France and Italy cheap to live in; and Miss Mary is, perhaps, +not sorry with the prospect of the uncontrolled management of the whole +estate.' + +“'And is she to live here alone?' + +“'Yes; she is to be sole mistress of Cro' Martin, and without even a +governess, since Miss Henderson is to accompany her Ladyship as private +secretary, minister of the household, and, in fact, any other capacity +you may please in flattery to assign her. And now, Mr. Massingbred, +that I have, not over-discreetly, perhaps, adventured to talk of family +arrangements to a stranger, will you frankly ac-knowledge that your +pride, or self-love, or any other quality of the same nature, is rather +gratified than otherwise at all the disturbance you have caused here? +Don't you really feel pleased to think that you have revolutionized a +little neighborhood, broken up a society, severed the ties that bound +proprietor and peasant, and, in fact, made a very pretty chaos, out of +which may come anything or everything?' + +“'When you address such a question as this to me, you don't expect an +answer. Indeed, the query itself is its own reply,' said I. + +“'Well said, sir, and with consummate temper, too. Certainly, Mr. +Massingbred, you possess one great element of success in public life.' + +“'Which is--' + +“'To bear with equanimity and cool forbearance the impertinences of +those you feel to be your inferiors.' + +“'But it is not in this light I regard Miss Henderson, be assured,' said +I, with earnestness; 'and if I have not replied to her taunts, it is not +because I have not felt them.' + +“I thought I detected a very faint flush on her cheek as I said this, +and certainly her features assumed a more serious expression than +before. + +“'Will you let me speak to you of what is far nearer my heart?' said I, +in a low voice,--'far nearer than all this strife and war of politics? +And will you deign to believe that what I say is prompted by whatever I +know in myself of good or hopeful?' + +“'Say on,--that is, if I ought to hear it,' said she, coldly. + +“Deterred a second or two by her manner, I rallied quickly, and with an +ardor of which I cannot convey an impression, much less explain,--one +of those moments of rhapsody, _you 'd_ call it,--poured forth a warm +declaration of love. Aye, Harry, sincere, devoted love!--a passion +which, in mastering all the common promptings of mere worldly advantage +and self-interest, had really inspired me with noble thoughts and high +aspirations. + +“A judge never listened to a pleading with more dignified patience than +she did to my appeal. She even waited when I had concluded, as it were +to allow of my continuing, had I been so minded; when, seeing that I had +closed my argument, she quietly turned about, and facing the road we +had just been travelling, pointed to the bleak, bare mountain on which +Barnagheela stood. 'It was yonder, then, that you caught up this lesson, +sir. The admirable success of Mr. Magennis's experiment has seduced +you!' + +“'Good heavens! Kate,' cried I-- + +“'Sir,' said she, drawing herself proudly up, 'you are continuing the +parallel too far.' + +“'But Miss Henderson cannot for a moment believe--' + +“'I can believe a great deal, sir, of what even Mr. Massingbred would +class with the incredible; but, sir, there are certain situations in +life which exact deference, from the very fact of their humility. Mine +is one of these, and I am aware of it.' + +“'Will you not understand me aright?' cried I, eagerly. 'In offering to +share my fortune in life with you--' + +“'Pray, sir, let this stop here. Poor Joan, I have no doubt, felt all +the grandeur of _her_ elevation, and was grateful even in her misery. +But _I_ should not do so. I am one of those who think that the cruellest +share in a _mésalliance_ is that of the humbler victim. To brave such +a fate, there should be all the hopeful, sanguine sense of strong +affection; and, as a reserve to fall back on in reverses, there should +be an intense conviction of the superiority over others of him from whom +we accept our inferiority. Now, in my case, these two conditions are +wanting. I know you like frankness, and I am frank.' + +“'Even to cruelty,' said I. + +“'We are very near Cro' Martin, sir, and I think we ought to part,' said +she, calmly. + +“'And is it thus you would have us separate? Have I nothing to hope from +time,--from the changes that may come over your opinions of me?' + +“'Calculate rather on the alterations in your own sentiments, Mr. +Massingbred; and perhaps the day is not very distant when you will laugh +heartily at yourself for the folly of this same morning,--a folly which +might have cost you dearly, sir, for I might have said, Yes.' + +“'Would that you had!' + +“'Good-bye, sir,' said she, not noticing my interruption, 'and remember +that, if I should ever need it, I have a strong claim on your gratitude. +Good-bye!' + +“She did not give me her hand at parting, but waved it coldly towards me +as she went. And so she passed the little wicket, and entered the +dark woods of the demesne, leaving me in a state wherein the sense of +bewilderment alone prevailed over all else. + +“I have given you this narrative, Harry, as nearly as I can remember, +every step of it; but I do not ask you to understand it better than +I do, which means, not at all! Nor will I worry you with the +thousand-and-one attempts I have made to explain to myself what I still +confess to be inexplicable. I mean to leave this at once. Would that I +had never come here! Write to me soon; but no bantering, Harry. Not even +my friendship for _you_--oldest and best of all my friends--could stand +any levity on this theme. This girl knows me thoroughly, since she +comprehends that there is no so certain way to engage my affections as +to defy them! + +“Write to me, I entreat. Address me at my father's, where I shall be, +probably, within a week. Were I to read over what I have just written, +the chances are I should burn the letter; and so, _sans adieu_, + +“Yours ever, + +“Jack Massingbred.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY + +Three large and stately travelling-carriages, heavily laden, and +surrounded with all the appliances for comfort possible, rolled from +under the arched gateway of Cro' Martin. One eager and anxious face +turned hastily to catch a last look at the place he was leaving, and +then as hastily concealing his emotion with his handkerchief, Mr. Martin +sat back in the carriage in silence. + +“Twenty minutes after eight!” exclaimed Lady Dorothea, looking at her +watch. “It is always the case; one never can get away in time.” + +Rousted by the speech, Martin started, and turned again to the window. + +“How handsome those larches are!” cried he; “it seems but yesterday that +I planted them, and they are magnificent trees now.” + +Her Ladyship made no reply, and he went on, half as though speaking to +himself: “The place is in great beauty just now. I don't think I ever +saw it looking so well. Shall I ever see it again?” muttered he, in a +still lower tone. + +“I really cannot think it ought to break your heart, Mr. Martin, if I +were to say 'No' to that question,” said she, testily. + +“No--no!” exclaimed he, repeating the word after her; “not come back +here!” + +“There is nothing to prevent us if we should feel disposed to do +so,” replied she, calmly. “I only observed that one could face the +alternative with a good courage. The twenty years we have passed in +this spot are represented to _your_ mind by more leafy trees and better +timber. To _me_ they are written in the dreary memory of a joyless, +weary existence. I detest the place,” cried she, passionately, “and +for nothing more, that even on leaving it my spirits are too jaded and +broken to feel the happiness that they ought.” + +Martin sighed heavily, but did not utter a word. + +“So it is,” resumed she; “one ever takes these resolutions too late. +What we are doing now should have been done sixteen or eighteen years +ago.” + +“Or not at all,” muttered Martin, but in a voice not meant to be +overheard. + +“I don't think so, sir,” cried she, catching up his words; “if only +as our protest against the insolence and ingratitude of this +neighborhood,--of these creatures who have actually been maintained by +us! It was high time to show them their real condition, and to what they +will be reduced when the influence of our position is withdrawn.” + +“If it were only for _that_ we are going away--” And he stopped himself +as he got thus far. + +“In itself a good and sufficient reason, sir; but I trust there are +others also. I should hope that we have paid our debt to patriotism, and +that a family who have endured twenty years of banishment may return, +if only to take a passing glance at the world of civilization and +refinement.” + +“And poor Mary!” exclaimed Martin, with deep feeling. + +“Your niece might have come with us if she pleased, Mr. Martin. To +remain here was entirely her own choice; not that I am at all disposed +to think that her resolution was not a wise one. Miss Mary Martin +feels very naturally her utter deficiency in all the graces and +accomplishments which should pertain to her condition. She appreciates +her unfitness for society, and selects--as I think, with commendable +discretion--a sphere much better adapted to her habits.” + +Martin again sighed heavily. + +“To leave any other girl under such circumstances would have been highly +improper,” resumed her Ladyship; “but she is really suited to this kind +of life, and perfectly unfit for any other, and I have no doubt she and +Catty Broon will be excellent company for each other.” + +“Catty loves her with all her heart,” muttered Martin. + +And her Ladyship's lip curled in silent derision at the thought of such +affection. “And, after all,” said he, half involuntarily, “our absence +will be less felt so long as Molly stays behind.” + +“If you mean by that, Mr. Martin, that the same system of wasteful +expenditure is still to continue,--this universal employment scheme,--I +can only say I distinctly and flatly declare against it. Even Rep +ton--and I 'm sure he 's no ally of mine--agrees with me in pronouncing +it perfectly ruinous.” + +“There's no doubt of the cost of it,” said Martin, gravely. + +“Well, sir, and what other consideration should weigh with us?--I mean,” + added she, hastily, “what should have the same weight? The immaculate +authority I have just quoted has limited our personal expenditure for +next year to five thousand pounds, and threatens us with even less in +future if the establishment at Cro' Martin cannot be reduced below its +present standard; but I would be curious to know why there is such a +thing as an establishment at Cro' Martin?” + +“Properly speaking, there is none,” said Martin. “Rep-ton alludes only +to the workpeople,--to those employed on the grounds and the gardens. We +cannot let the place go to ruin.” + +“There is certainly no necessity for pineries and forcing-houses. Your +niece is not likely to want grapes in January, or camellias in the early +autumn. As little does she need sixteen carriage-horses and a stable +full of hunters.” + +“They are to be sold off next week. Mary herself said that she only +wanted two saddle-horses and the pony for the phaeton.” + +“Quite sufficient, I should say, for a young lady.” + +“I 'm sure she 'd have liked to have kept the harriers--” + +“A pack of hounds! I really never heard the like!” + +“Poor Molly! It was her greatest pleasure,--I may say her only amusement +in life. But she would n't hear of keeping them; and when Repton tried +to persuade her--” + +“Repton's an old fool,--he's worse; he's downright dishonest,--for he +actually proposed my paying my maids out of my miserable pittance +of eight hundred a year, and at the same moment suggests your niece +retaining a pack of foxhounds!” + +“Harriers, my Lady.” + +“I don't care what they 're called. It is too insolent.” + +“You may rely upon one thing,” said Martin, with more firmness than +he had hitherto used, “there will be nothing of extravagance in Mary's +personal expenditure. If ever there was a girl indifferent to all the +claims of self, she is that one.” + +“If we continue this discussion, sir, at our present rate, I opine that +by the time we reach Dublin your niece will have become an angel.” + +Martin dropped his head, and was silent; and although her Ladyship made +two or three other efforts to revive the argument, he seemed resolved +to decline the challenge, and so they rolled along the road sullen and +uncommunicative. + +In the second carriage were Repton and Kate Henderson,--an arrangement +which the old lawyer flatteringly believed he owed to his cunning and +address, but which in reality was ordained by Lady Dorothea, whose +notions of rank and precedence were rigid. Although Repton's greatest +tact lay in his detection of character, he felt that he could not +satisfactorily affirm he had mastered the difficulty in the present +case. She was not exactly like anything he had met before; her mode of +thought, and even some of her expressions were so different that the +old lawyer owned to himself, “It was like examining a witness through an +interpreter.” + +A clever talker--your man of conversational success--is rarely patient +under the failure of his powers, and, not very unreasonably perhaps, +very ready to ascribe the ill-success to the defects of his hearer. They +had not proceeded more than half of the first post ere Repton began to +feel the incipient symptoms of this discontent. + +She evidently had no appreciation for bar anecdote and judicial wit; +she took little interest in political events, and knew nothing of the +country or its people. He tried the subject of foreign travel, but his +own solitary trip to Paris and Brussels afforded but a meagre experience +of continental life, and he was shrewd enough not to swim a yard out of +his depth. “She must have her weak point, if I could but discover it,” + said he to himself. “It is not personal vanity, that I see. She does not +want to be thought clever, nor even eccentric, which is the governess +failing _par excellence_. What then can it be?” With all his ingenuity +he could not discover. She would talk, and talk well, on any theme +he started, but always like one who maintained conversation through +politeness and not interest; and this very feature it was which piqued +the old man's vanity, and irritated his self-love. + +When he spoke, she replied, and always with a sufficient semblance of +interest; but if he were silent, she never opened her lips. + +“And so,” said he, after a longer pause than usual, “you tell me that +you really care little or nothing whither Fortune may be now conducting +you.” + +“To one in my station it really matters very little,” said she, calmly. +“I don't suppose that the post-horses there have any strong preference +for one road above another, if they be both equally level and smooth.” + +“There lies the very question,” said he; “for you now admit that there +may be a difference.” + +“I have never found in reality,” said she, “that these differences were +appreciable.” + +“How is it that one so young should be so--so philosophic?” said he, +after a hesitation. + +“Had you asked me that question in French, Mr. Repton, the language +would have come so pleasantly to your aid, and spared you the +awkwardness of employing a grand phrase for a small quality; but my +'philosophy' is simply this: that, to fill a station whose casualties +range from courtesies in the drawing-room to slights from the servants' +hall, one must arm themselves with very defensive armor as much, nay +more, against flattery than against sarcasm. If, in the course of time, +this habit render one ungenial and uncompanionable, pray be lenient +enough to ascribe the fault to the condition as much as to the +individual.” + +“But, to be candid, I only recognize in you qualities the very opposite +of all these; and if I am to confess a smart at this moment, it is in +feeling that I am not the man to elicit them.” + +“There you do me wrong. I should be very proud to captivate Mr. Repton.” + +“Now we are on the good road at last!” said he, gayly; “for Mr. Repton +is dying to be captivated.” + +“The fortress that is only anxious to surrender offers no great glory to +the conqueror,” replied she. + +“By Jove! I 'm glad you 're not at the bar.” + +“If I had been, I could never have shown the same forbearance as Mr. +Repton.” + +“How so? What do you mean?” + +“I never could have refused a silk gown, sir; and they tell me you have +done so!” + +“Ah! they told you that,” said he, coloring with pleasurable pride. +“Well, it's quite true. The fact is correct, but I don't know what +explanation they have given of it!” + +“There was none, sir,--or, at least, none that deserved the name.” + +“Then what was your own reading of it?” asked he. + +“Simply this, sir: that a proud man may very well serve in the ranks, +but spurn the grade of a petty officer.” + +“By Jove; it is strange to find that a young lady should understand +one's motives better than an old Minister,” said he, with an evident +satisfaction. + +“It would be unjust, sir, were I to arrogate any credit to my own +perspicuity in this case,” said she, hastily; “for I was aided in my +judgment by what, very probably, never came under the Minister's eyes.” + +“And what was that?” + +“A little volume which I discovered one day in the library, entitled +'Days of the Historical Society of Trinity College,' wherein I found Mr. +Repton's name not only one of the first in debate, but the very first in +enunciating the great truths of political liberty. In fact, I might go +further, and say, the only one who had the courage to proclaim the great +principles of the French Revolution.” + +“Ah,--yes. I was a boy,--a mere boy,--very rash,--full of hope,--full of +enthusiasm,” said Repton, with an embarrassment that increased at every +word. “We all took fire from the great blaze beside us just then; but, +my dear young lady, the flame has died out,--very fortunately, too; for +if it had n't, it would have burned us up with it. We were wrong,--wrong +with Burke, to be sure,--_Errare Platone_, as one may say,--but still +wrong.” + +“You were wrong, sir, in confounding casualties with true consequences; +wrong as a physician would be who abandoned his treatment from mistaking +the symptoms of disease for the effects of medicine. You set out by +declaring there was a terrible malady to be treated, and you shrink back +affrighted at the first results of your remedies; you did worse; you +accommodated your change of principles to party, and from the great +champions of liberty you descended to be--modern Whigs!” + +“Why, what have we here? A Girondist, I verily believe!” said Repton, +looking in her face with a smile of mingled surprise and amazement. + +“I don't much care for the name you may give me; but I am one who thinks +that the work of the French Revolution is sure of its accomplishment. +We shall very probably not do the thing in the same way, but it will be +done, nevertheless; for an Act of Parliament, though not so speedy, will +be as effectual as a 'Noyade,' and a Reforming Administration will work +as cleanly as a Constituent!” + +“But see; look at France at this moment. Is not society reconstituted +pretty near to the old models? What evidence is there that the prestige +of rank has suffered from the shock of revolution?” + +“The best evidence. Nobody believes in it,--not one. Society is +reconstituted just as a child constructs a card-house to see how high he +can carry the frail edifice before it tumbles. The people--the true +people of the Continent--look at the pageantry of a court and a nobility +just as they do on a stage procession, and criticise it in the same +spirit. They endure it so long as their indolence or their caprice +permit, and then, some fine morning, they 'll dash down the whole +edifice; and be assured that the fragments of the broken toy will never +suggest the sentiment to repair it.” + +“You are a Democrat of the first water!” exclaimed Repton, in half +amazement. + +“I am simply for the assertion of the truth everywhere and in +everything,--in religion and in politics, as in art and literature. If +the people be the source of power, don't divert the stream into another +channel; and, above all, don't insist that it should run up-hill! Come +abroad, Mr. Repton,--just come over with us to Paris,--and see if what +I am telling you be so far from the fact. You 'll find, too, that it +is not merely the low-born, the ignoble, and the poor who profess these +opinions, but the great, the titled, and the wealthy men of fourteen +quarterings and ancient lineage; and who, sick to death of a contest +with a rich bourgeoisie, would rather start fair in the race again, and +win whatever place their prowess or their capacity might giye them. You +'ll hear very good socialism from the lips of dukes and princesses who +swear by Fourier.” + +Repton stared at her in silence, not more amazed at the words he heard +than at the manner and air of her who spoke them; for she had gradually +assumed a degree of earnestness and energy which imparted to her +features a character of boldness and determination such as he had not +seen in them before.. + +“Yes,” resumed she, as though following out her own thoughts, “it is +your new creations, your ennobled banker, your starred and cordoned +agitator of the Bourse, who now defends his order, and stands up for the +divine right of misrule! The truly noble have other sentiments!” + +“There 's nothing surprises me so much,” said Repton, at last, “as +to hear these sentiments from one who has lived surrounded by all the +blandishments of a condition that owes its existence to an aristocracy, +and never could have arisen without one,--who has lived that delightful +life of refined leisure and elevating enjoyment, such as forms the +atmosphere of only one class throughout the whole world. How would you +bear to exchange this for the chaotic struggle that you point at?” + +“As for me, sir, I only saw the procession from the window. I may, +perhaps, walk in it when I descend to the street; but really,” added +she, laughing, “this is wandering very far out of the record. I had +promised myself to captivate Mr. Repton, and here I am, striving to +array every feeling of his heart and every prejudice of his mind against +me.” + +“It is something like five-and-fifty years since I last heard such +sentiments as you have just uttered,” said Repton, gravely. “I was young +and ardent,--full of that hopefulness in mankind which is, after +all, the life-blood of Republicanism; and here I am now, an old, +time-hardened lawyer, with very little faith in any one. How do you +suppose that such opinions can chime in with all I have witnessed in the +interval?” + +“Come over to Paris, sir,” was her reply. + +“And I would ask nothing better,” rejoined he. “Did I ever tell you of +what Harry Parsons said to Macnatty when he purposed visiting France, +after the peace of '15? 'Now is the time to see the French capital,' +said Mac. 'I 'll put a guinea in one pocket and a shirt in the other, +and start to-morrow.' 'Ay, sir,' said Parsons, 'and never change either +till you come back again!'” + +Once back in his accustomed field, the old lawyer went along recounting +story after story, every name seeming to suggest its own anecdote. Nor +was Kate, now, an ungenerous listener; on the contrary, she relished his +stores of wit and repartee. Thus they, too, went on their journey! + +The third carriage contained Madame Hortense, Lady Dorothea's French +maid; Mrs. Runt, an inferior dignitary of the toilet; and Mark Peddar, +Mr. Martin's “gentleman,”--a party which, we are forced to own, seemed +to combine more elements of sociality than were gathered together in the +vehicles that preceded them. To _their_ share there were no regrets for +leaving home,--no sorrow at quitting a spot endeared to them by long +association. The sentiment was one of unalloyed satisfaction. They were +escaping from the gloom of a long exile, and about to issue forth into +that world which they longed for as eagerly as their betters. And why +should they not? Are not all its pleasures, all its associations +more essentially adapted to such natures; and has solitude one single +compensation for all its depression to such as these? + +“Our noble selves,” said Mr. Peddar, filling the ladies' glasses, and +then his own; for a very appetizing luncheon was there spread out before +them, and four bottles of long-necked gracefulness rose from amidst the +crystal ruins of a well-filled ice-pail. “Mam'selle, it is your favorite +tipple, and deliciously cool.” + +“Perfection,” replied mademoiselle, with a foreign accent, for she had +been long in England; “and I never enjoyed it more. _Au revoir_,” + added she, waving her hand towards the tall towers of Cro' Martin, just +visible above the trees,--“_Au revoir!_” + +“Just so,--till I see you again,” said Mrs. Runt; “and I 'm sure I +'ll take good care that day won't come soon. It seems like a terrible +nightmare when I think of the eight long years I passed there.” + +“_Et moi_, twelve! Miladi engage me, so to say, _provisoirement_, to +come to Ireland, but with a promise of travel abroad; that we live in +Paris, Rome, Naples,--_que sais-je?_ I accept,--I arrive,--_et me +voici!_” And mademoiselle threw back her veil, the better to direct +attention to the ravages time and exile had made upon her charms. + +“Hard lines, ma'am,” said Peddar, whose sympathy must not be accused +of an _equivoque_; “and here am I, that left the best single-handed +situation in all England,--Sir Augustus Hawleigh's,--a young fellow +just of age, and that never knew what money was, to come down here at +a salary positively little better than a country curate's, and live the +life of--of--what shall I say?--” + +“No, the leg, if you please, Mr. Peddar; no more wine. Well, just one +glass, to drink a hearty farewell to the old house.” + +“I 'm sure I wish Mary joy of her residence there,” said Peddar, +adjusting his cravat; “she is a devilish fine girl, and might do better, +though.” + +“She has no ambitions,--no what you call them?--no aspirations for _le +grand monde_; so perhaps she has reason to stay where she is.” + +“But with a young fellow of _ton_ and fashion, mam'selle,--a fellow +who has seen life,--to guide and bring her out, trust me, there are +excellent capabilities in that girl.” And as Mr. Peddar enunciated the +sentiment, his hands ran carelessly through his hair, and performed a +kind of impromptu toilet. + +“She do dress herself _bien mal_.” + +“Disgracefully so,” chimed in Mrs. Runt “I believe, whenever she bought +a gown, her first thought was what it should turn into when she 'd done +with it.” + +“I thought that la Henderson might have taught her something,” said +Peddar, affectedly. + +“_Au contraire_,--she like to make the contrast more strong; she always +seek to make say, '_Regardez_, mademoiselle, see what a _tournure_ is +there!'” + +“Do you think her handsome, Mr. Peddar?” asked Mrs. Runt. + +“Handsome, yes; but not _my_ style,--not one of what _I_ call _my_ +women; too much of this kind of thing, eh?” And he drew his head back, +and threw into his features an expression of exaggerated scorn. + +“Just so. Downright impudent, I'd call it.” + +“Not even that,” said Mr. Peddar, pondering; “haughty, rather,--a kind +of don't-think-to-come-it-on-me style of look, eh?” + +“Not at all amiable,--_point de cela,_” exclaimed mam'selle; “but still, +I will say, _très bon genre_. You see at a glance that she has seen _la +bonne société._” + +“Which, after all, is the same all the world over,” said Peddar, +dogmatically. “At Vienna we just saw the same people we used to have +with us in London; at Rome, the same; so, too, at Naples. I assure you +that the last time I dined at Dolgorouki's, I proposed going in the +evening to the Haymarket. I quite forgot we were on the Neva. And when +Prince Gladuatoffski's gentleman said, 'Where shall I set you down?' +I answered carelessly, 'At my chambers in the Albany, or anywhere your +Highness likes near that.' Such is life!” exclaimed he, draining the +last of the champagne into his glass. + +“The place will be pretty dull without us, I fancy,” said Mrs. Runt, +looking out at the distant landscape. + +“That horrid old Mother Broon won't say so,” said Peddar, laughing. “By +Jove! if it was only to escape that detestable hag, it 's worth while +getting away.” + +“I offer her my hand when I descend the steps, but she refuse +_froidement_, and say, 'I wish you as much pleasure as you leave behind +you.' _Pas mal_ for such a _creature_.” + +“I did n't even notice her,” said Mrs. Runt. + +“_Ma foi!_ I was good with all the world; I was in such Joy--such +spirits--that I forgave all and everything. I felt _nous sommes en +route_, and Paris--dear Paris--before us.” + +“My own sentiments to, a T,” said Mr. Peddar. “Let me live on the +Boulevards, have my cab, my stall at the Opera, two Naps, per diem +for my dinner, and I'd not accept Mary Martin's hand if she owned Cro' +Martin, and obliged me to live in it.” + +The speech was fully and warmly acknowledged, other subjects were +started, and so they travelled the same road as their betters, and +perhaps with lighter hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. COUNTRY AUCTION + +With feelings akin to those with which the populace of a revolted city +invade the once sacred edifice of the deposed Prince, the whole town and +neighborhood of Oughterard now poured into the demesne of Cro' Martin, +wandered through the grounds, explored the gardens, and filled the +house. An immense advertisement in the local papers had announced a +general sale of horses and carriages, farming stock, and agricultural +implements; cattle of choice breeding, sheep of fabulous facilities +for fat, and cows of every imaginable productiveness, were there, with +draft-horses like dwarf elephants, and bulls that would have puzzled a +matador. + +The haughty state in which the Martins habitually lived, the wide +distance by which they separated themselves from the neighborhood +around, had imparted to Cro' Martin a kind of dreamy splendor in the +country, exalting even its well-merited claims to admiration. Some had +seen the grounds, a few had by rare accident visited the gardens, but +the house and the stables were still unexplored territories, of whose +magnificence each spoke without a fear of contradiction. + +Country neighborhoods are rarely rich in events, and of these, few can +rival a great auction. It is not alone in the interests of barter and +gain thus suggested, but in the thousand new channels for thought thus +suddenly opened,--the altered fortunes of him whose effects have come +to the hammer; his death, or his banishment,--both so much alike. +The visitor wanders amidst objects which have occupied years in +collection,--some the results of considerable research and difficulty, +some the long-coveted acquisitions of half a lifetime, and some--we have +known such--the fond gifts of friendship. There they are now side by +side in the catalogue, their private histories no more suspected than +those of them who lie grass-covered in the churchyard. You admire that +highly bred hunter in all the beauty of his symmetry and his strength, +but you never think of the “little Shelty” in the next stable with +shaggy mane and flowing tail; and yet it was on _him_ the young heir +used to ride; _he_ was the cherished animal of all the stud, led in +beside the breakfast-table to be caressed and petted, fed with sugar +from fair fingers, and patted by hands a Prince might have knelt to +kiss! His rider now sleeps beneath the marble slab in the old aisle, and +they who once brightened in smiles at the sound of his tiny trot would +burst into tears did they behold that pony! + +So, amidst the triumphs of color and design that grace the walls, you +have no eyes for a little sketch in water-color,--a mill, a shealing +beside a glassy brook, a few trees, and a moss-clad rock; and yet that +little drawing reveals a sad story. It is all that remains of her who +went abroad to die. You throw yourself in listless lassitude upon a +couch; it was the work of one who beguiled over it the last hours of a +broken heart! You turn your steps to the conservatory, but never notice +the little flower-garden, whose narrow walks, designed for tiny feet, +need not the little spade to tell of the child-gardener who tilled it. + +Ay, this selling-off is a sad process! It bespeaks the disruption of a +home; the scattering of those who once sat around the same hearth, with +all the dear familiar things about them! + +It was a bright spring morning--one of those breezy, cloud-flitting +days, with flashes of gay sunlight alternating with broad shadows, and +giving in the tamest landscape every effect the painter's art could +summon--that a long procession, consisting of all imaginable vehicles, +with many on horseback intermixed, wound their way beneath the grand +entrance and through the park of Cro' Martin. Such an opportunity of +gratifying long pent-up curiosity had never before offered; since, even +when death itself visited the mansion, the habits of exclusion were not +relaxed, but the Martins went to their graves in the solemn state of +their households alone, and were buried in a little chapel within the +grounds, the faint tolling of the bell alone announcing to the world +without that one of a proud house had departed. + +The pace of the carriages was slow as they moved along, their occupants +preferring to linger in a scene from which they had been hitherto +excluded, struck by the unexpected beauty of the spot, and wondering at +all the devices by which it was adorned. A few--a very few--had seen the +place in boyhood, and were puzzling themselves to recall this and that +memory; but all agreed in pronouncing that the demesne was far finer, +the timber better grown, and the fields more highly cultivated than +anything they had ever before seen. + +“I call this the finest place in Ireland, Dan!” said Captain Bodkin, as +he rode beside Nelligan's car, halting every now and then to look around +him. “There's everything can make a demesne beautiful,--wood, water, and +mountain!” + +“And, better than all, a fine system of farming,” broke in Nelligan. +“That's the best field of 'swedes' I ever beheld!” + +“And to think that a man would leave this to go live abroad in a dirty +town in France!” exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, from the opposite side of the +car. “That's perverseness indeed!” + +“Them there is all Swiss cows!” said Mr. Clinch, in an humble tone. + +“Not one of them, Clinch! they're Alderneys. The Swiss farm, as they +call it, is all on the other side, with the ornamented cottage.” + +“Dear! dear! there was no end to their waste and extravagance!” muttered +Mrs. Nelligan. + +“Wait till you see the house, ma'am, and you 'll say so, indeed,” said +the Captain. + +“I don't think we 're likely!” observed Nelligan, dryly. + +“Why so?” + +“Just that Scanlan told Father Mather the auction would be held in the +stables; for as there was none of the furniture to be sold, the house +would n't be opened.” + +“That's a great disappointment!” exclaimed Bodkin. A sentiment fully +concurred in by the ladies, who both declared that they'd never have, +come so far only to look at pigs and “shorthorns.” + +“Maybe we 'll get a peep at the gardens,” said Bodkin, endeavoring to +console them. + +“And the sow!” broke in Peter Hayes, who had joined the party some time +before. “They tell me she's a beauty. She's Lord Somebody's breed, and +beats the world for fat!” + +“Here's Scanlan now, and he 'll tell us everything,” said Bodkin. +But the sporting attorney, mounted on a splendid little horse, in top +condition, passed them at speed, the few words he uttered being lost as +he dashed by. + +“What was it he said?” cried Bodkin. + +“I didn't catch the words,” replied Nelligan; “and I suppose it was no +great loss.” + +“He's an impudent upstart!” exclaimed Mrs. Clinch. + +“I think he said something about a breakfast,” meekly interposed Mr. +Clinch. + +“And of course he said nothing of the kind,” retorted his spouse. “You +never happened to be right in your life!” + +“Faix! I made sure of mine before I started,” said old Hayes, “I ate a +cowld goose!” + +“Well, to be sure, they could n't be expected to entertain all that's +coming!” said Mrs. Nelligan, who now began a mental calculation of the +numbers on the road. + +“There will be a thousand people here to-day,” said Bodkin. + +“Five times that,” said Nelligan. “I know it by the number of small +bills that I gave cash for the last week. There's not a farmer in the +county does n't expect to bring back with him a prize beast of one kind +or other.” + +“I'll buy that sow if she goes 'reasonable,'” said Peter Hayes, whose +whole thoughts seemed centred on the animal in question. + +“What do they mean to do when they sell off the stock?” asked the +Captain. + +“I hear that the place will be let,” said Nelligan, in a half whisper, +“if they can find a tenant for it. Henderson told Father Mather that, +come what might, her Ladyship would never come back here.” + +“Faix! the only one of them worth a groat was Miss Mary, and I suppose +they did n't leave her the means to do much now.” + +“'Tis she must have the heavy heart to-day,” sighed Mrs. Nelligan. + +“And it is only fair and reasonable she should have her share of +troubles, like the rest of us,” replied Mrs. Clinch. “When Clinch was +removed from Macroon, we had to sell off every stick and stone we had; +and as the neighbors knew we must go, we didn't get five shillings in +the pound by the sale.” + +“That's mighty grand,--that is really a fine place!” exclaimed Bodkin, +as by a sudden turn of the road they came directly in front of the +house; and the whole party sat in silent admiration of the magnificent +edifice before them. + +“It is a royal palace,--no less,” said Nelligan, at last; “and that's +exactly what no country gentleman wants. Sure we know well there's no +fortune equal to such a residence. To keep up that house, as it ought to +be, a man should have thirty thousand a year.” + +“Give me fifteen, Dan, and you'll see if I don't make it comfortable,”, +said Bodkin. + +“What's this barrier here,--can't we go any further?” exclaimed +Nelligan, as he perceived a strong paling across the avenue. + +“We 're to go round by the stables, it seems,” said Bodkin; “the hall +entrance is not to be invaded by such vulgar visitors. This is our road, +here.” + +“Well, if I ever!” exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, whose feelings really +overpowered utterance. + +“I don't see any great hardship in this after all, ma'am,” said +Nelligan; “for we know if the family were at home we couldn't even be +here. Drive on, Tim.” + +A short circuit through a very thickly wooded tract brought them at +length to a large and massive gateway, over which the Martins' arms +were sculptured in stone; passing through which they entered a great +courtyard, three sides of which were occupied by stables, the fourth +presenting a range of coach-houses filled with carriages of every +description. + +A large tent was erected in the midst of the court for the convenience +of the sale, in front of which were pens for the cattle, and a space +railed off, wherein the horses were to be viewed and examined. + +“This is all mighty well arranged,” said Bodkin, as he gave his horse to +a groom, who, in the undress livery of Cro' Martin, came respectfully to +his aid as he got down. + +“The sale will begin in about an hour, sir,” said the man, in answer +to a question. “Mr. Scanlan is now in the house with Mr. Gibbs, the +auctioneer.” + +Vast crowds of people of every class, from the small squire to the +Oughterard shopkeeper and country farmer, now came pouring in, all eager +in their curiosity, but somehow all subdued into a kind of reverence for +a spot from which they had been so rigidly excluded, and the very aspect +of which so far transcended expectations. Everything, indeed, was an +object of wonderment. The ornamental tanks for watering the horses, +supplied by beautifully designed fountains; the sculptured medallions +along the walls, emblematizing the chase or the road; the bright +mahogany partitions of the stalls, even to the little channels lined +with shining copper, all demanded notice and comment; and many were the +wise reflections uttered with regard to those who thus squandered away +their wealth. The sight of the cattle, however, which occupied this +luxurious abode, went far to disarm this criticism, since certainly none +ever seemed more worthy of the state and splendor that surrounded them. +For these the admiration was hearty and sincere, and the farmers went +along the stalls amazed and wonderstruck at the size and symmetry of the +noble animals that filled them. + +“To be sold at Tattersall's, sir, on the 4th of next month,” said a +groom, whose English accent imparted an almost sneer to the supposition +that such a stud should meet purchasers in Ireland. “They 're all +advertised in 'Bell's Life.'” + +“What becomes of the hounds?” asked Bodkin. + +“Lord Cromore takes them, sir; they're to hunt in Dorsetshire.” + +“And the sow?” asked old Hayes, with eagerness; “she isn't to go to +England, is she?” + +“Can't say, sir. We don't look arter no sows here,” replied the fellow, +as he turned away in evident disgust at his questioner. + +A certain stir and bustle in the court without gave token that the sale +was about to begin; and Scanlan's voice, in its most authoritative tone, +was heard issuing orders and directions on all sides, while servants +went hither and thither distributing catalogues, and securing +accommodation for the visitors with a degree of deference and attention +most remarkable. + +“I suppose we're to pass the day in the stables or the cowhouses, +ma'am?” said Mrs. Clinch, as with a look of indignation she gazed at the +range of seats now being hastily occupied by a miscellaneous company. + +“If we could only get into the gardens,” said Mrs. Nelligan, timidly. +“I'm sure if I saw Barnes he'd let us in.” And she slipped rapidly from +her friend's arm, and hastily crossing the court, went in search of her +only acquaintance in the household. “Did you see Barnes? Where could I +find Barnes?” asked she of almost every one she met. And following the +complicated directions she received, she wandered onward, through a +kitchen-garden, and into a small nursery beyond it. Bewildered as she +receded beyond the sounds of the multitude, she turned into a little +path which, traversing a shrubbery, opened upon a beautifully cultivated +“parterre,” whose close-shaven sward and flowery beds flanked a long +range of windows opening to the ground, and which, to her no small +horror, she perceived to form one wing of the mansion. While in her +distraction to think what course was best to take, she saw a groom +standing at the head of a small pony, harnessed to a diminutive +carriage, and hastily approached him. Before, however, she had attained +within speaking distance, the man motioned to her, by a gesture, to +retire. Her embarrassment gave her, if not courage, something of +resolution, and she advanced. + +“Go back!” cried he, in a smothered voice; “there 's no one admitted +here.” + +“But I 've lost my way. I was looking for Barnes--” + +“He's not here. Go back, I say,” reiterated the man, in the same +stealthy voice. + +But poor Mrs. Nelligan, came on, confusion rendering her indifferent +to all reproof, and in spite of gestures and admonitions to retire, +steadily advanced towards the door. As she passed one of the open +windows, her glance caught something within; she stopped suddenly, +and, in seeming shame at her intrusion, turned to go back. A muttered +malediction from the servant increased her terror, and she uttered a +faint cry. In an instant the object at which she had been gazing arose, +and Mary Martin, her face traced with recent tears, started up and +approached her. Mrs. Nelligan felt a sense of sickly faintness come over +her, and had to grasp the window for support. + +“Oh, my dear young lady!” she muttered, “I did n't mean to do this--I +strayed here by accident--I didn't know where I was going--” + +“My dear Mrs. Nelligan, there is no need of these excuses,” said Mary, +taking her hand cordially, and leading her to a seat. “It is a great +pleasure to me to see a friendly face, and I am grateful for the chance +that sent you here.” + +Mrs. Nelligan, once relieved of her first embarrassment, poured forth +with volubility the explanation of her presence; and Mary heard her to +the end with patient politeness. + +“And you were going away somewhere,” resumed she, “when I stopped you. +I see your pony-chaise there at the door waiting for you, and you're off +to the quarries or Kilkieran, I 'll be bound; or maybe it's only going +away you are, to be out of this for a day or two. God knows, I don't +wonder at it! It is a trying scene for you, and a great shock to your +feelings, to see the place dismantled, and everything sold off!” + +“It is sad enough,” said Mary, smiling through her tears. + +“Not to say that you're left here all alone, just as if you were n't one +of the family at all; that 's what I think most of. And where were you +going, dear?” + +“I was going to pass a few days at the cottage,--the Swiss cottage. +Catty Broon, my old nurse, has gone over there to get it in readiness +for me, and I shall probably stay there till all this confusion be +over.” + +“To be sure, dear. What's more natural than that you'd like to spare +your feelings, seeing all carried away just as if it was bankrupts you +were. Indeed, Dan said to me the things wouldn't bring more than at a +sheriff's sale, because of the hurry you were in to sell them off.” + +“My uncle's orders were positive on that subject,” said Mary, calmly. + +“Yes, dear, of course he knows best,” said she, with a shake of the head +not exactly corroborating her own speech. “And how are you to live here +by yourself, dear?” resumed she; “sure you 'll die of the loneliness!” + +“I don't think so: I shall have plenty to occupy me,--more, indeed, than +I shall be equal to.” + +“Ay, in the daytime; but the long evenings--think of the long evenings, +dear! God knows, I find them very often dreary enough, even though I +have a home and Dan.” + +“I 'm not afraid of the long evenings, my dear Mrs. Nelligan. It is the +only time I can spare for reading; they will be my hours of recreation +and amusement.” + +“Well, well, I hope so, with all my heart,” said she, doubtingly. “You +know yourself best, and maybe you'd be happier that way, than if you had +somebody to talk to and keep you company.” + +“I didn't say that,” said Mary, smiling. “I never implied that a visit +from some kind friend--Mrs. Nelligan, for instance--would not be a very +pleasant event in my solitude.” + +“To come and see you,--to come to Cro' Martin!” exclaimed Mrs. Nelligan, +as though trying to reconcile her mind to the bare possibility of such a +circumstance. + +“If you would not think it too far, or too much trouble--” + +“Oh dear, oh dear, but it's too much honor it would be; and Dan--no +matter what he 'd say to the contrary--would feel it so, in his own +heart. Sure I know well how he felt about Joe being asked here to +dinner; and he 'd never have taken a part against your uncle in the +election if it was n't that he thought Joe was slighted some way--” + +“But nothing of the kind ever occurred. Mr..Joseph Nelligan met from us +all the respect that his character and his talents entitled him to.” + +“Don't get warm about it, or I 'll forget everything that's in my head!” + exclaimed Mrs. Nelligan, in terror at the eagerness of Mary's manner. +“Maybe it was Joe's fault--maybe it was young Massingbred's--maybe it +was--” + +“But what was it?” cried Mary. “What was alleged? What was laid to our +charge?” + +“There, now, I don't remember anything; you frightened me so that it's +gone clean out of my mind.” + +“My dear friend,” said Mary, caressingly, “I never meant to alarm you; +and let us talk of something else. You say that you 'll come to see me +sometimes; is it a promise?” + +“Indeed it is, my dear, whenever Dan gives me the car and horse--” + +“But I 'll drive in for you, and bring you safely back again. You 've +only to say when you 'll spend the day with me; and there's so much to +show you here that you 'd like to see. The gardens are really handsome, +and the hothouses. And Catty will show us her dairy, and I am very proud +of my lambs.” + +“It is all like a dream to me,--just like a dream,” said Mrs. Nelligan, +closing her eyes, and folding her arms, “to think that I 'm sitting +here, at Cro' Martin, talking to Miss Mary just as if I were her equal.” + +“My dear, dear friend, it shall be a reality whenever you like to make +it so; and you'll tell me all the news of Oughterard,--all about every +one there; for I know them, at least by name, and will be charmed to +hear about them.” + +“Mr. Scanlan wants an answer, miss, immediately,” said a servant, +presenting Mary with a few lines written in pencil. + +She opened the paper and read the following: “Nelligan offers seventy +pounds for the two black horses. Is he to have them? Sir Peter shows an +incipient spavin on the off leg, and I think he 'd be well sold.” + +“Tell Mr. Scanlan I 'll send him an answer by and by,” said she, +dismissing the servant. Then ringing the bell, she whispered a few words +to the man who answered it. “I have just sent a message to tell Mr. +Nelligan I wish to speak to him,” said she, resuming her place on +the sofa. “It is a mere business matter,” added she, seeing that Mrs. +Nelligan waited for some explanation. “And now, when have you heard +from your son? Is he learning to spare himself anything of those great +efforts he imposes upon his faculties?” + +This was to touch the most sensitive chord in all her heart; and so she +burst forth into a description of Joseph's daily life of toil and +study; his labors, his self-denial, his solitary, joyless existence, all +calling up, in turn, her praises and her sympathy. + +“And I,” cried she, “am always saying, what is it all for?--what's the +use of it?--who is to be the better of it? Sure there 's only himself to +get whatever his father leaves behind him; and a pretty penny it is! +Not that _you_ would think so; but for the like of _us_, and in _our_ +station, it's a snug fortune. He 'll have upwards of two thousand a +year, so that there 's no need to be slaving like a Turk.” + +“Your son's ambitions take, very probably, a higher range than mere +money-making,” said Mary. “He has a good right to suppose that his +abilities may win him the highest of rewards! But here's Mr. Nelligan.” + And she advanced courteously to meet him at the door. + +Flushed and heated by the scene he had just quitted, and evidently +embarrassed by the situation in which he stood, Nelligan bowed +repeatedly in reply to Miss Martin's greeting, starting with amazement +as he perceived Mrs. Nelligan, who maintained an air of unbroken dignity +on the sofa. + +“Well you may stare, Dan!” said she. “I 'm sure you never expected to +see me here!” + +“It was a most agreeable surprise for _me_, at least,” said Mary, +motioning to a seat; then, turning to Nelligan, added, “This little note +was the occasion of my asking you to step over here. Will you please to +read it?” + +“How handsome, how candid, Miss Martin!” said Nelligan, as he restored +it, after perusing it. “Ah, my dear young lady, why would n't your +family deal always with us in this fashion and in everything? I beg +your forgiveness, but I forgot myself. I 'll stick to my offer, miss,--I +wouldn't take fifty pounds for my bargain!” + +“This, of course, is in confidence between us, sir,” said Mary, as she +tore up the note and threw the fragments on the ground. + +[Illustration: 368] + +“I wish I knew how to acknowledge this, Miss Martin; I wish I could +show how sensible one in _my_ station could be of generosity from one in +_yours_.” + +“You remind me very opportunely that I have a favor to ask, Mr. +Nelligan. It is this: My kind friend here, Mrs. Nelligan, has just +promised to take pity on my solitude, and occasionally to come and see +me. Will you kindly strengthen her in this benevolent intention, and aid +her to turn her steps very often towards Cro' Martin?” + +Nelligan's face grew deeply red, and an expression of the greatest +embarrassment settled down on his features; and it was with much +difficulty, and in a voice laboring for utterance, that he said,-- + +“I don't see how this can be. Your friends would not approve,--your +family, I mean, Miss Martin,--would, very naturally, resent the thought +of such an intimacy! They look upon _me_ as an enemy,--an open and +declared enemy,--and so I am, where politics is concerned; but--” He +hesitated, and after a struggle went on: “No matter, it _is_ war between +us, and must be till one crushes the other. What I mean is this, young +lady: that to encourage such acquaintanceship as you speak of would look +like an undue condescension on _your_ part, or something even worse on +_ours_.” + +“I 'll not listen to such subtleties!” cried Mary, hastily. “Neither you +nor I, my dear Mrs. Nelligan, care for party triumphs or defeats. There +are a thousand themes wherein our hearts can feel alike; and these we +'ll discuss together. We're of the same country; have passed our lives +amidst the same scenes, the same events, and the same people, and it +will be hard if we cannot as easily discover topics for mutual esteem, +as subjects of difference and disagreement.” + +“But will it not be hinted, Miss Martin, that we took the opportunity +of your solitude here to impose an acquaintanceship which had been +impossible under other circumstances?” + +“If you are too proud, sir, to know me,--lest an ungenerous sneer should +damage your self-esteem--” + +“Indeed, indeed we're not,” broke in Mrs. Nelligan. “You don't know Dan +at all. He would n't exchange the honor of sitting there, opposite you, +to be High Sheriff.” + +A servant fortunately presented himself at this awkward moment with a +whispered message for Miss Martin; to which she replied aloud,-- + +“Of course. Tell Mr. Scanlan it is my wish,--_my_ orders,” added she, +more firmly. “The house is open to any one who desires to see it. And +now, before I go, Mr. Nelligan, tell me that I have convinced you,--tell +me that my reasons have prevailed, and that you acknowledge we ought to +be friends.” And as she said the last words, she held out her hand to +him with a grace so perfect, and an air of such winning fascination, +that old Nelligan could only stammer out,-- + +“It shall be how you please. I never bargained to dispute against such +odds as this. We are, indeed, your friends; dispose of us how you like.” + And, so saying, he conducted her to the little carriage, and, assisting +her to her seat, took his leave with all the respect he could have shown +a queen. + +“It's more than a prejudice, after all,” muttered he, as he looked after +her as she drove away. “There's something deeper and stronger in it than +that, or else a few words spoken by a young girl could n't so suddenly +rout all the sentiments of a lifetime! Ay, ay,” added he, still to +himself, “we may pull them down; we may humble them; but we 'll never +fill their places!” + +“And we 're to see the house, it seems!” exclaimed Mrs. Nelligan, +gathering her shawl around her. + +“I don't care to look at it till she herself is here!” said old +Nelligan, taking his wife's arm, and leading her away across the +lawn, and in the direction of the stables. There was that in his moody +preoccupation which did not encourage her to venture on a word, and so +she went along at his side in silence. + +“You're to have the black horses, Mr. Nelligan,” said Scanlan, +overtaking him. Nelligan nodded. “You 've got a cheap pair of nags, and +as good as gold,” continued he. A dry half-smile was all the reply. “Mr. +Martin bred them himself,” Scanlan went on, “and no price would have +bought them three weeks ago; but everything is going for a song to-day! +I don't know how I 'll muster courage to tell them the results of the +sale!” + +“You 'll have courage for more than that,” said Nelligan. And although +only a chance shot, it fell into a magazine; for Scanlan grew crimson, +and then pale, and seemed ready to faint. + +Nelligan stared with amazement at the effect his few words had produced, +and then passed on; while the attorney muttered between his teeth, “Can +he suspect me? Is it possible that I have betrayed myself?” + +No, Maurice Scanlan. Be of good cheer, your secret is safe. No one has +as much as the very barest suspicion that the pettifogging practitioner +aspires to the hand of Mary Martin; nor even in the darkest dreams of +that house's downfall has such a humiliation obtruded itself anywhere! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. “REVERSES” + +Ours is a very practical age, and no matter how skilfully a man play the +game of life, there is but one test of his ability,--did he win? If +this condition attend him, his actions meet charitable construction. His +doings are all favorably regarded; and while his capacity is extolled, +even his shortcomings are extenuated. We dread an unlucky man! There +is a kind of contagion in calamity, and we shun him as though he were +plague-stricken. But with what flatteries we greet the successful one! +That he reached the goal is the sure guarantee of his merits; and woe +to him who would canvass the rectitude of his progress! Defeat is such +a leveller! Genius and dulness, courage and pusillanimity, high-hearted +hope and wasting energy, are all confounded together by failure, and +the world would only smile at any effort to discriminate between them. +Perhaps in the main the system works well. Perhaps mankind, incapable +of judging motives, too impatient to investigate causes, is wise in +adopting a short cut for its decisions. Certain it is, the rule is +absolute that proclaims Success to be Desert! + +Lady Dorothea was now about to experience this severe lesson, and +not the less heavily that she never anticipated it. After a wearisome +journey the Martins arrived in Dublin. The apartments secured to them, +by a previous letter, at Bilton's, were all in readiness for their +reception. The “Saunders” of the day duly chronicled their arrival; +but there the great event seemed to terminate. No message from +her Ladyship's noble kinsman greeted their coming; no kind note of +welcome,--not even a visit from Mr. Lawrence Belcour, the aide-de-camp +in waiting. The greatest of all moralists warns us against putting +confidence in princes; and how doubly truthful is the adage when +extended to viceroys! Small as was the borough of Oughterard, and +insignificant as seemed the fact who should be its representative, the +result of the election was made a great matter at the “Castle.” His +Excellency was told that the Martins had mismanaged everything. They +had gone to work in the old Tory cut-and-thrust fashion of former +days--conciliated no interest, won over no antagonism; they had acted +“precisely as if there had been no Relief Bill,”--we steal Colonel +Massingbred's words,--and they were beaten--beaten in their own town--in +the person of one of their own family, and by a stranger! The Viceroy +was vexed. They had misconstrued every word of his letter,--a letter +that, as he said, any child might have understood,--and there was a vote +lost to his party. It was in vain that the Chief Secretary assured his +Excellency “Jack was a clever fellow, who 'd put all to rights;” that +with a little time and a little dexterity he 'd be able to vote with the +Ministry on every important division; the great fact remained unatoned +for,--his family, his own connections, “had done nothing for him.” + +The first day in town dragged its length slowly over. Martin was +fatigued, and did not go abroad, and no one came to visit him. To do him +justice, he was patient under the neglect; to say more, he was grateful +for it. It was so pleasant “to be let alone;” not even to be obliged +to see Henderson, nor to be consulted about “Road Sessions” or “Police +Reports,” but to have one's day in total unbroken listlessness; to have +simply to say, “We 'll dine at seven,” and “I'm out for every one.” Far +otherwise fared it in my “Lady's chamber.” All her plans had been based +upon the attentions she was so certain of receiving, but of which now +not a sign gave token. She passed the day in a state of almost feverish +excitement, the more painful from her effort to conceal and control it. +Repton dined with them. He came that day “because, of course, he +could not expect to catch them disengaged on any future occasion.” Her +Ladyship was furious at the speech, but smiled concurrence to it; while +Martin carelessly remarked, “From all that I see, we may enjoy the same +pleasure very often.” Never was the old lawyer so disagreeable when +exerting himself to be the opposite. He had come stored with all the +doings of the capital,--its dinners and evening parties, its _mots_ and +its gossip. From the political rumors and the chit-chat of society, he +went on to speak of the viceregal court and its festivities. + +“If there be anything I detest,” said her Ladyship, at last, “it is +the small circle of a very small metropolis. So long as you look at it +carelessly, it is not so offensive; but when you stoop to consider and +examine it with attention, it reminds you of the hideous spectacle of +a glass of water as seen through a magnifier,--you detect a miniature +world of monsters and deformities, all warring and worrying each other.” + And with this flattering exposition of her opinion, she arose speedily +after dinner, and, followed by Miss Henderson, retired. + +“I perceive that we had not the ear of the Court for our argument,” said +Repton, as he resumed his place after conducting her to the door. Martin +sipped his wine in silence. “I never expected she'd like Dublin; it only +suits those who pass their lives in it; but I fancied that what with +Castle civilities--” + +“There 's the rub,” broke in Martin, but in a voice subdued almost to a +whisper. “They 've taken no notice of us. For my own part, I 'm heartily +obliged to them; and if they 'd condescend to feel offended with us, I +'d only be more grateful; but my Lady--” + +A long, low whistle from Repton implied that he had fully appreciated +the “situation.” + +“Ah, I see it,” cried he; “and this explains the meaning of an article I +read this morning in the 'Evening Post,'--the Government organ,--wherein +it is suggested that country gentlemen would be more efficient +supporters of the administration if they lent themselves heartily to +comprehend the requirements of recent legislation, than by exacting +heavy reprisals on their tenants in moments of defeat and +disappointment.” + +“Well, it is rather hard,” said Martin, with more of energy than he +usually spoke in,--“it _is_ hard! They first hounded us on to contest +the borough for them, and they now abuse us that we did not make a +compromise with the opposite party. And as to measures of severity, you +know well I never concurred in them; I never permitted them.” + +“But they are mistaken, nevertheless. There are writs in preparation, +and executions about to issue over fourteen town-lands. There will be +a general clearance of the population at Kyle-a-Noe. You 'll not know a +face there when you go back, Martin!” + +“Who can say that I 'll ever go back?” said he, mournfully. + +“Come, come, I trust you will. I hope to pass some pleasant days with +you there ere I die,” said Repton, cheer-ingly. “Indeed, until you are +there again, I 'll never go farther west than Athlone on my circuit. I +'d not like to, look at the old place without you!” + +Martin nodded as he raised his glass, as if to thank him, and then +dropped his head mournfully, and sat without speaking. + +“Poor dear Mary!” said he, at last, with a heavy sigh. “Our desertion of +her is too bad. It's not keeping the pledge I made to Barry!” + +“Well, well, there's nothing easier than the remedy. A week or so will +see you settled in some city abroad,--Paris, or Brussels, perhaps. Let +her join you; I 'll be her escort. Egad! I'd like the excuse for the +excursion,” replied Repton, gayly. + +“Ay, Repton,” said the other, pursuing his own thoughts and not heeding +the interruption, “and _you_ know what a brother he was. By Jove!” cried +he, aloud, “were Barry just to see what we 've done,--how we 've treated +the place, the people, his daughter!--were he only to know how I 've +kept my word with him--Look, Repton,” added he, grasping the other's arm +as he spoke, “there's not as generous a fellow breathing as Barry; this +world has not his equal for an act of noble self-devotion and sacrifice. +His life!--he 'd not think twice of it if I asked him to give it for me; +but if he felt--if he could just awaken to the conviction that he was +unfairly dealt with, that when believing he was sacrificing to affection +and brotherly love he was made a dupe and a fool of--” + +“Be cautious, Martin; speak lower--remember where you are,” said Repton, +guardedly. + +“I tell you this,” resumed the other, in a tone less loud but not less +forcible: “the very warmth of his nature--that same noble, generous +source that feeds every impulse of his life--would supply the force of a +torrent to his passion; he 'd be a tiger if you aroused him!” + +“Don't you perceive, my dear friend,” said Repton, calmly, “how you +are exaggerating everything,--not alone _your own_ culpability, but his +resentment! Grant that you ought not to have left Mary behind you,--I +'m sure I said everything I could against it,--what more easy than to +repair the wrong?” + +“No, no, Repton, you 're quite mistaken. Take my word for it, you don't +know that girl. She has taught herself to believe that her place +is there,--that it is her duty to live amongst the people. She may +exaggerate to her own mind the good she does; she may fancy a +thousand things as to the benefit she bestows; but she cannot, by any +self-deception, over-estimate the results upon her own heart, which she +has educated to feel as only they do who live amongst the poor! To take +her away from this would be a cruel sacrifice; and for what?--a world +she would n't care for, couldn't comprehend.” + +“Then what was to have been done?” + +“I 'll tell you, Repton; if it was _her_ duty to stay there, it was +doubly _ours_ to have remained also. When she married,” added he, after +a pause,--“when she had got a home of her own,--then, of course, it +would have been quite different! Heaven knows,” said he, sighing, “we +have little left to tie us to anything or anywhere; and as to myself, it +is a matter of the most perfect indifference whether I drag out the +year or two that may remain to me on the shores of Galway or beside the +Adriatic!” + +“I can't bear this,” cried Repton, angrily. “If ever there was a man +well treated by fortune, you are he.” + +“I 'm not complaining.” + +“Not complaining! but, hang it, sir, that is not enough! You should be +overflowing with gratitude; your life ought to be active with +benevolence; you should be up and doing, wherever ample means and +handsome encouragement could assist merit or cheer despondency. I like +your notion that you don't complain! Why, if you did, what should be +done by those who really do travel the shady side of existence,--who are +weighted with debt, bowed down with daily difficulties, crippled with +that penury that eats into a man's nature till his very affections grow +sordid, and his very dreams are tormented with his duns! Think of the +poor fellows with ailing wives and sickly children, toiling daily, not +to give them luxuries,--not to supply them with what may alleviate +weariness or distract suffering, but bare sustenance,--coarse diet and +coarser dress! Ah, my dear Martin, that Romanist plan of fasting one day +in the week would n't be a bad institution were we to introduce it into +our social code. If you and I could have, every now and then, our +feelings of privation, just to teach us what others experience all the +week through, we 'd have, if not more sympathy with narrow fortune, at +least more thankfulness for its opposite.” + +“Her Ladyship begs you will read this note, sir,” said a servant, +presenting an open letter to Martin. He took it, and having perused it, +handed it to Repton, who slowly read the following lines:-- + + “'The Lodge, Tuesday. + + “'Madam,--I have his Excellency's commands to inquire on + what day it will suit Mr. Martin and your Ladyship to favor + him with your company at dinner? His Excellency would + himself say Saturday, but any intermediate day more + convenient to yourself will be equally agreeable to him. + + “'I have the honor to remain, madam, + + “'With every consideration, yours, + + “'Lawrence Belcour, A.D.C.'” + + +“'With every consideration'!” repeated Repton. “Confound the puppy, +and his Frenchified phraseology! Why is he not, as he ought to be, your +obedient servant?” + +“It is a somewhat cold and formal invitation,” said Martin, slowly. “I +'ll just see what she thinks of it;” and he arose and left the room. His +absence was fully of twenty minutes' duration, and when he did return +his face betokened agitation. + +“Here's more of it, Repton,” said he, filling and drinking off his +glass. “It 's all _my_ fault, it seems. I ought to have gone out to the +'Lodge' this morning, or called on somebody, or done something; in fact, +I have been remiss, neglectful, deficient in proper respect--” + +“So that you decline the invitation?” broke in Repton. + +“Not a bit of it; we 're to accept it, man. That's what I cannot +comprehend. We are offended, almost outraged, but still we're to submit. +Ah, Repton, I'll be really rejoiced when we leave this,--get away from +all these petty annoyances and small intriguings, and live amongst +strangers!” + +“Most patriotically spoken; but I'm not surprised at what you say. Have +you made any resolve as to whither you mean to go?” + +“No; we have so many plans, that the chances are we take none of them. I +'m told--I know nothing of it myself--but I 'm told that we shall easily +find--and in any part of the Continent--the few requirements we +want; which are, an admirable climate, great cheapness, and excellent +society.” + +There was a slight twinkle in Martin's eye as he spoke, as if he were in +reality relishing the absurdity of these expectations. + +“Was it Kate Henderson who encouraged you to credit this flattering +picture?” + +“No; these are my Lady's own experiences, derived from a residence there +'when George the Third was King.' As to Kate, the girl is by no means +deficient in common sense; she has the frivolity of a Frenchwoman, and +that light, superficial tone foreign education imparts; but take my word +for it, Repton, she has very fine faculties!” + +“I will take your word for it, Martin. I think you do her no more than +justice,” said the old lawyer, sententiously. + +“And I 'll tell you another quality she possesses,” said Martin, in a +lower and more cautious tone, as though dreading to be overheard,--“she +understands my Lady to perfection,--when to yield and when to oppose +her. The girl has an instinct about it, and does it admirably; and there +was poor dear Mary, with all her abilities, and she never could succeed +in this! How strange, for nobody would think of comparing the two +girls!” + +“Nobody!” dryly re-echoed Repton. + +“I mean, of course, that nobody who knew the world could; for in all +the glitter and show-off of fashionable acquirement, poor Molly is the +inferior.” + +Repton looked steadfastly at him for several seconds; he seemed as if +deliberating within himself whether or not he'd undeceive him at once, +or suffer him to dwell on an illusion so pleasant to believe. The latter +feeling prevailed, and he merely nodded slowly, and passed the decanter +across the table. + +“Molly,” continued Martin, with all the fluency of a weak man when he +fancies he has got the better of an argument,--“Molly is her father all +over. The same resolution, the same warmth of heart, and that readiness +at an expedient which never failed poor Barry! What a clever fellow he +was! If he _had_ a fault, it was just being too clever.” + +“Too speculative, too sanguine,” interposed Repton. + +“That, if you like to call it so,--the weakness of genius.” + +Repton gave a long sigh, and crossing his arms, fell into a fit of +musing, and so they both sat for a considerable time. + +“Harry is coming home, you said?” broke in Repton at last. + +“Yes; he is tired of India,--tired of soldiering, I believe. If he can't +manage an exchange into some regiment at home, I think he 'll sell out.” + +“By Jove!” said the old lawyer, speaking to himself, but still aloud, +“the world has taken a strange turn of late. The men that used to have +dash and energy have become loungers and idlers, and the energy--the +real energy of the nation--has centred in the women,--the women and the +priests! If I'm not much mistaken, we shall see some rare specimens of +enthusiasm erelong. Such elements as these will not slumber nor sleep!” + +While Martin was pondering over this speech, a servant entered to +say that Mr. Crow was without, and begged to know if he might pay his +respects. “Ay, by all means. Tell him to come in,” said Martin. And the +words were scarcely uttered when the artist made his appearance, in +full dinner costume, and with a certain unsteadiness in his gait, and +a restless look in his eyes, that indicated his having indulged freely, +without, however, having passed the barrier of sobriety. + +“You heard of our arrival, then?” said Martin, after the other had paid +his respects, and assumed a seat. + +“Yes, sir. It was mentioned to-day at dinner, and so I resolved that, +when I could manage to step away, I'd just drop in and ask how her +Ladyship and yourself were.” + +“Where did you dine, Crow?” + +“At the Chief Secretary's, sir, in the Park,” replied Crow, with a +mixture of pride and bash fulness. + +“Ah, indeed. Was your party a large one?” + +“There were fourteen of us, sir, but I only knew three or four of the +number.” + +“And who were they, Crow?” said Repton, whose curiosity on all such +topics was extreme. + +“Young Nelligan was one. Indeed, it was through him I was asked myself. +Colonel Massingbred was good enough to come over and have a look at +my Moses,--a favor I humbly hope you 'll do me, gentlemen, any spare +morning; for it's a new conception altogether, and I make the light come +out of the bulrushes, just as Caravaggio did with his Lazarus.” + +“Never mind Lazarus, Crow, but tell us of this dinner. Who were the +others?” + +“Well, sir, there was Nelligan and me,--that's one; and Tom +Magennis,--two--” + +“Our neighbor of Barnagheela?” exclaimed Martin, in amazement. + +“The same, sir. I left him there at the port wine, and my word for it, +but they 'll not get him away easily, though Father Rafferty will do his +best--” + +“And was the priest also of the party?” + +“He was, sir; and sat at the Colonel's left, and was treated with every +honor and distinction.” + +“Eh, Martin, am I a true prophet?--answer me that. Has Val Repton +foretold the course of events we are entering upon, or has he not?” + +“But this is a regular outrage,--an open insult to us!” cried Martin. +“Here is a leading member of the Government entertaining the very men +who opposed and defeated us,--actually caressing the very party which +they enlisted us to crush?” + +“This game is within every child's comprehension!” said Repton. “If +_you_, and men of your stamp and fortune, could have secured them a +parliamentary majority, they 'd have preferred you. You 'd be pleasanter +to deal with, less exacting, more gentlemanly in fact; but as you failed +to do this,--as it was plain and clear you had not the people with +you,--why, they 've thrown you over without a scruple, and taken into +their favor the men who can and will serve them. I don't mean to say +that the bargain is a good one,--nay, I believe the price of such aid +will be very costly; but what do they care? It is one of the blessings +of a representative government that Tories have to pay Whig debts, and +Whigs are heirs to Tory defalcations.” + +“Were politics discussed at table?” asked Martin, half impatiently. + +“All manner of subjects. We had law, and the assizes, and the grand-jury +lists, and who ought to be high sheriffs, and who not. And young +Massingbred made a kind of a speech--” + +“Was he there also?” + +“That he was; and did the honors of the foot of the table, and made +it the pleasantest place too! The way he introduced a toast to the +independent and enlightened electors of Oughterard was as neat a thing +as ever I heard.” + +“The devil take the whole batch of them!” cried Martin. “To think that +I 've spent nearly three thousand pounds for such a set of scoundrels +is past endurance. I 'll never set foot amongst them again; as long as I +live I 'll never enter that town.” + +“Father Neal's own words,” cried Crow. “'We done with Martin forever,' +said he. 'This election was his Waterloo. He may abdicate now!'” + +“And that sentiment was listened to by the Chief Secretary?” exclaimed +Martin. + +“If he wasn't deaf he couldn't help hearing it, for we all did; and when +I ventured to observe that a country was never the better for losing the +patrons of art, and the great families that could encourage a genius, +young Massingbred, said, 'Give up Moses, Mr. Crow,--give up Moses, and +paint Daniel O'Connell, and you 'll never want admirers and supporters!' +And they drowned me in a roar of laughter.” + +“I wish my Lady could only hear all this,” said Rep ton, in a whisper to +Martin. + +“Always provided that I were somewhere else!” answered Martin. “But to +be serious, Repton, I 'll hold no intercourse with men who treat us in +this fashion. It is absurd to suppose that the Secretary could receive +at his table this rabble,--this herd of low, vulgar--” + +“Eh--what!” broke in Crow, with an expression of such truly comic misery +as made Repton shake with laughter. + +“I didn't mean _you_, Crow--I never thought of including you in such +company,--but if these be Colonel Massingbred's guests, I 'll swear that +Godfrey Martin shall not be my Lord Reckington's!” And with this bold +resolve, uttered in a voice and manner of very unusual firmness, Martin +arose and left the room. + +“On the whole, then, your party was a pleasant one?” said Repton, +anxious to lead Crow into some further details of the late dinner. + +“Well, indeed it was, and it was not,” said the artist, hesitatingly. +“It was like a picture with some fine bits in it,--a dash of rich color +here and there,--but no keeping! no general effect! You understand? I +myself took no share in the talk. I never understood it; but I could +see that they who did were somehow at cross-purposes,--all standing +in adverse lights,--if I may use the expression. Whenever the Colonel +himself, or one of the 'swells' of the company, came out with a fine +sentiment about regenerated Ireland, happy and prosperous, and so forth, +Magennis was sure to break in with some violent denunciation of the +infernal miscreants, as he called the landlords, or the greatest curse +of the land,--the Law Church!” + +“And how did Father Neal behave?” + +“With great decorum,--the very greatest. He moderated all Tom's +violence, and repeatedly said that he accepted no participation in such +illiberal opinions. 'We have grievances, it is true,' said he, 'but we +live under a Government able and willing to redress them. It shall never +be said of us that we were either impatient or intolerant.' 'With such +support, no Government was ever weak!' said the Colonel, and they took +wine together.” + +“That was very pleasant to see!” said Repton. + +“So it was, sir,” rejoined Crow, innocently; “and I thought to myself, +if there was only an end of all their squabbling and fighting, they 'd +have time to cultivate the arts and cherish men of genius,--if they had +them!” added he, after a pause. + +“Father Neal, then, made a favorable impression, you 'd say?” asked +Repton, half carelessly. + +“I'd say, very favorable,--very favorable, indeed. I remarked that he +always spoke so freely, so liberally. Twice or thrice, too, he said, +'If the Papists do this, that, or t' other;' and when the Colonel asked +whether the Catholics of Ireland submitted implicitly to Rome in all +things, he laughed heartily, and said, 'About as much as we do to the +Cham of Tartary!' + +“'I 'd like to examine our friend there before the Committee,' whispered +an old gentleman at the Colonel's right hand. + +“'It was the very thing was passing through my own mind at the minute,' +said the Colonel. + +“'That's exactly the kind of thing we want,' said the old gentleman +again,--'a bold, straightforward denial; something that would tell +admirably with the House! Present me to your friend, Massingbred!' +And then the Chief Secretary said, 'The Member for Strudeham--Mr. +Crutch-ley--is very desirous of being known to you, Mr. Rafferty.' And +there was great smiling, and bowing, and drinking wine together after +that.” + +Martin now re-entered the room, and taking his place at the table, sat +for some minutes in moody silence. + +“Well,” said Repton, “what does my Lady think of your tidings?” + +“She says she does n't believe it!” + +“Does n't believe that these people dined with Massingbred; that Crow +saw them, heard them, dined with them?” + +“No, no,--not that,” said Martin, gently, and laying his hand familiarly +on Crow's arm. “Don't mistake me; nor don't let Repton play the lawyer +with us, and pervert the evidence. Lady Dorothea can't believe that her +distinguished relative, the Viceroy, would ever countenance this game; +that--that--in fact, we're to dine there, Repton, and see for ourselves! +Though,” added he, after a brief pause, “what we are to see, or what we +are to do when we 've seen it, I wish anybody would tell me!” + +“Then I 'll be that man!” said Repton, with a mock solemnity, and +imitating the tone and manner of a judge delivering sentence. “You 'll +go from this place to the Lodge, where you 'll be fed 'to the neck,' +feasted and flattered, and all your good resolves and high purposes will +be cut down, and your noble indignation buried within the precincts of +your own hearts!” + +And, so saying, he arose from the table and extended his hand to take +leave, with all the gravity of a solemn farewell. + +“If you could say a word to his Excellency about Moses,” muttered Crow, +as he was leaving the room, “it would be the making of me!” But Martin +never heeded the appeal; perhaps he never heard it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. DARKENING FORTUNES + +The Martins had always lived a life of haughty estrangement from their +neighbors; there were none of exactly their own rank and pretensions +within miles of them, and they were too proud to acknowledge the +acquaintance of a small squirearchy, which was all that the country +around could boast. Notwithstanding all the isolation of their +existence, their departure created a great void in the county, and their +absence was sensibly felt by every class around. The very requirements +of a large fortune suggest a species of life and vitality. The movement +of servants, the passing and repassing of carriages, the necessary +intercourse with market and post,--all impart a degree of bustle and +movement, terribly contrasted by the unbroken stillness of a deserted +mansion. + +Lady Dorothea had determined that there should be no ambiguity as to the +cause of their departure; she had given the most positive orders on this +head to every department of the household. To teach an ungrateful people +the sore consequences of their own ingratitude, the lesson should be +read in everything: in the little villages thrown out of work, in the +silent quarries, the closed schoolhouses, the model farm converted into +grass-land, even to the grand entrance, now built up by a wall of coarse +masonry, the haughty displeasure of the proud mistress revealed itself, +all proclaiming the sentiment of a deep, unforgiving vengeance. She had +tortured her ingenuity for details which should indicate her anger; nor +was she satisfied if her displeasure should not find its way into every +cabin and at every hearth. The small hamlet of Cro' Martin had possessed +a dispensary. A hard-working, patient, and skilful man had passed many +years of life there as the doctor, eking out the poor subsistence of +that unfavored lot, and supporting a family by a life of dreary toil. +From this her Ladyship's subscription--the half of all his salary--was +now to be withdrawn. She thought “Cloves was grown negligent; it might +be age,--if so, a younger man would be better; besides, if he could +afford to dress his three daughters in the manner he did, he surely +could not require her thirty pounds per annum.” The servants, too, +complained that he constantly mistook their complaints. In fact, +judgment was recorded against Cloves, and there was none to recommend +him to mercy! + +We have said that there was a little chapel within the bounds of the +demesne; it occupied a corner of a ruin which once had formed Cro' +Martin Abbey, and now served for the village church. It was very small, +but still large enough for its little congregation. The vicar of this +humble benefice was a very old man, a widower, and childless, though +once the father of a numerous family. Dr. Leslie had, some eighteen +years back, been unfortunate enough to incur her Ladyship's displeasure, +and was consequently never invited to the castle, nor recognized in any +way, save by the haughty salute that met him as he left the church. To +save him, however, a long and tedious walk on Sundays, he was permitted +to make use of a little private path to the church, which led through +one of the shrubberies adjoining his own house,--a concession of the +more consequence as he was too poor to keep a carriage of the humblest +kind. This was now ordered to be closed up, the gate removed, and a wall +to replace it. “The poor had got the habit of coming that way; it was +never intended for their use, but they had usurped it. To-morrow or +next day we should hear of its being claimed at law as a public right +of passage. It was better to do the thing in time. In short, it must +be 'closed.'” By some such reasoning as this Lady Dorothea persuaded +herself to this course; and who should gainsay her? Oh, if men would +employ but one tenth of all that casuistry by which they minister to +their selfishness, in acts of benevolence and good feeling,--if they +would only use a little sophistry, to induce them to do right,--what a +world this might be! + +Mary Martin knew nothing of these decisions; overwhelmed by the vast +changes on every side, almost crushed beneath the difficulties that +surrounded her, her first few weeks passed over like a disturbed dream. +Groups of idle, unemployed people saluted her in mournful silence as she +passed the roads. Interrupted works, half-executed plans met her eye at +every turn, and at every moment the same words rang in her ears--“Her +Ladyship's orders”--as the explanation of all. + +Hitherto her life had been one of unceasing exertion and toil; from +early dawn to late night she had been employed; her fatigues, however, +great as they were, had been always allied with power. What she willed +she could execute. Means never failed her, no matter how costly the +experiment, to carry out her plans, and difficulty gave only zest to +every undertaking. There is nothing more captivating than this sense of +uncontrolled ability for action, especially when exercised by one of +a warm and enthusiastic nature. To feel herself the life and spring of +every enterprise, to know that she suggested and carried out each plan, +that her ingenuity devised, and her energy accomplished all the changes +around her, was in itself a great fascination; and now suddenly she +was to awake from all this, and find herself unoccupied and powerless. +Willingly, without a regret, could she abdicate from all the pomp +and splendor of a great household; she saw troops of servants depart, +equipage sold, great apartments closed up without a pang! To come down +to the small conditions of narrow fortune in her daily life cost her +nothing, beyond a smile. It was odd, it was strange; but it was no more! +Far otherwise, however, did she feel the circumstances of her impaired +power. That hundreds of workmen were no longer at her bidding, that +whole families no longer looked up to her for aid and comfort,--these +were astounding facts, and came upon her with an actual shock. + +“For what am I left here?” cried she, passionately, to Henderson, as he +met each suggestion she made by the one cold word, “Impossible.” “Is +it to see destitution that I cannot relieve,--witness want that I am +powerless to alleviate? To what end or with what object do I remain?” + +“I canna say, miss,” was the dry response. + +“If it be to humiliate me by the spectacle of my own inefficiency, a day +or a week will suffice for that; years could not teach me more.” + +Henderson bowed what possibly might mean an acquiescence. + +“I don't speak of the estate,” cried she, earnestly; “but what 's to +become of the people?” + +“Many o' them will emigrate, miss, I've no doubt,” said he, “when they +see there 's nothing to bide for.” + +“You take it easily, sir. You see little hardships in men having to +leave home and country; but I tell you that home may be poor and country +cruel, and yet both very hard to part with.” + +“That 's vara true, miss,” was the dry response. + +“For anything there is now to be done here, you, sir, are to the full as +competent as I am. I ask again, To what end am I here?” + +Giving to her question a very different significance from what she +intended, Henderson calmly said, “I thought, miss, it was just yer ain +wish, and for no other reason.” + +Mary's cheek became crimson, and her eyes flashed with angry +indignation; but repressing the passion that was bursting within her, +she walked hastily up and down the room in silence. At length, opening +a large colored map of the estate which lay on the table, she stood +attentively considering it for some time. “The works at Carrigulone are +stopped?” said she, hastily. + +“Yes, miss.” + +“And the planting at Kyle's Wood?” + +“Yes, miss.” + +“And even the thinning there,--is that stopped?” + +“Yes, miss; the bark is to be sold, and a' the produce of the wood for +ten years, to a contractor, a certain Mister--” + +“I don't want his name, sir. What of the marble quarries?” + +“My Lady thinks they're nae worth a' they cost, and won't hear o' their +being worked again.” + +“And is the harbor at Kilkieran to be given up?” + +“Yes, miss, and the Osprey's Nest will be let. I think they 'll mak' an +inn or a public o' it.” + +“And if the harbor is abandoned, what is to become of the fishermen? The +old quay is useless.” + +“Vara true, miss; but there's a company goin' to take the royalties o' +the coast the whole way to Belmullet.” + +“A Scotch company, Mr. Henderson?” said Mary, with a sly malice in her +look. + +“Yes, miss,” said he, coloring slightly. “The house of M'Grotty and Co. +is at the head o' it.” + +“And are they the same enterprising people who have proposed to take the +demesne on lease, provided the gardens be measured in as arable land?” + +“They are, miss; they've signed the rough draught o' the lease this +morning.” + +“Indeed!” cried she, growing suddenly pale as death. “Are there any +other changes you can mention to me, since in the few days I have been +ill so much has occurred?” + +“There 's nae muckle more to speak o', miss. James M'Grotty--he's the +younger brother--was here yesterday to try and see you about the school. +He wants the house for his steward; but if you object, he 'll just take +the doctor's.” + +“Why--where is Dr. Cloves to go?” + +“He does na ken exactly, miss. He thinks he 'll try Auckland, or some of +these new places in New Zealand.” + +“But the dispensary must be continued; the people cannot be left without +medical advice.” + +“Mr. James says he 'll think aboot it when he comes over in summer. He's +a vara spirited young man, and when there's a meetin'-house built in the +village--” + +“Enough of this, Henderson. Come over here tomorrow, for I 'm not strong +enough to hear more to-day, and let Mr. Scanlan know that I wish to see +him this evening.” + +And Mary motioned with her hand that he should withdraw. Scarcely was +the door closed behind him than she burst into a torrent of tears; her +long pent-up agony utterly overpowered her, and she cried with all the +vehemence of a child's grief. Her heart once opened to sorrow, by a +hundred channels came tributaries to her affliction. Up to that moment +her uncle's departure had never seemed a cruelty; now it took all the +form of desertion. The bitterness of her forlorn condition had never +struck her till it came associated with all the sorrows of others. It is +not impossible that wounded self-love entered into her feelings. It is +by no means unlikely that the sense of her own impaired importance added +poignancy to her misery. Who shall anatomize motives, or who shall be +skilful enough to trace the springs of one human emotion? There was +assuredly enough outside of and above all personal consideration to +ennoble her grief and dignify her affliction. + +Her first impulses led her to regard herself as utterly useless; her +occupation gone, and her whole career of duty annihilated. A second and +a better resolve whispered to her that she was more than ever needful to +those who without her would be left without a friend. “If I desert them, +who is to remain?” asked she. “It is true I am no more able to set +in motion the schemes by which their indigence was alleviated. I am +powerless, but not all worthless. I can still be their nurse, their +comforter, their schoolmistress. My very example may teach them how +altered fortune can be borne with fortitude and patience. They shall see +me reduced to a thousand privations, and perhaps even this may bear +its lesson.” Drying her tears, she began to feel within her some of the +courage she hoped to inspire in others; and anxious not to let old Catty +detect the trace of sorrow in her features, issued forth into the wood +for a walk. + +As the deep shadows thickened around her, she grew calmer and more +meditative. The solemn stillness of the place, the deep, unbroken +quietude, imparted its own soothing influence to her thoughts; and as +she went, her heart beat freer, and her elastic temperament again arose +to cheer and sustain her. To confront the future boldly and well, it was +necessary that she should utterly forget the past. She could no longer +play the great part to which wealth and high station had raised her; +she must now descend to that humbler one,--all whose influence should +be derived from acts of kindness and words of comfort, unaided by the +greater benefits she had once dispensed. + +The means placed at her disposal for her own expenditure had been +exceedingly limited. It was her own desire they should be so, and Lady +Dorothea had made no opposition to her wishes. Beyond this she had +nothing, save a sum of five thousand pounds payable at her uncle's +death. By strictest economy--privation, indeed--she thought that she +could save about a hundred pounds a year of this small income; but to +do so would require the sale of both her horses, retaining only the pony +and the little carriage, while her dress should be of the very simplest +and plainest. In what way she should best employ this sum was to be +for after consideration. The first thought was how to effect the saving +without giving to the act any unnecessary notoriety. She felt that her +greatest difficulty would be old Catty Broon. The venerable housekeeper +had all her life regarded her with an affection that was little short of +worship. It was not alone the winning graces of Mary's manner, nor the +attractive charms of her appearance that had so captivated old Catty; +but that the young girl, to her eyes, represented the great family +whose name she bore, and represented them so worthily. The title of +the Princess, by which the Country people knew her, seemed her just and +rightful designation. Mary realized to her the proud scion of a proud +stock, who had ruled over a territory rather than a mere estate; how, +then, could she bear to behold her in all the straits and difficulties +of a reduced condition? There seemed but one way to effect this, which +was to give her new mode of life the character of a caprice. “I must +make old Catty believe it is one of my wild and wilful fancies,--a +sudden whim,--out of which a little time will doubtless rally me. She +is the last in the world to limit me in the indulgence of a momentary +notion; she will, therefore, concede everything to my humor, patiently +awaiting the time when it shall assume a course the very opposite.” + +Some one should, however, be intrusted with her secret,--without some +assistance it could not be carried into execution; and who should that +be? Alas, her choice was a very narrow one. It lay between Scanlan and +Henderson. The crafty attorney was not, indeed, much to Mary's liking. +His flippant vulgarity and pretension were qualities she could ill +brook; but she had known him do kind things. She had seen him on more +than one occasion temper the sharpness of some of her Ladyship's ukases, +little suspecting, indeed, how far the possible impression upon herself +was the motive that so guided him; she had, therefore, no difficulty in +preferring him to the steward, whose very accent and manner were enough +to render him hateful to her. Scanlan, besides, would necessarily have +a great deal in his power; he would be able to make many a concession to +the poor people on the estate, retard the cruel progress of the law, or +give them time to provide against its demands. Mary felt that she was in +a position to exercise a certain influence over him; and, conscious of +the goodness of the cause she would promote, never hesitated as to the +means of employing it. + +Who shall say, too, that she had not noticed the deferential admiration +by which he always distinguished her? for there is a species of coquetry +that takes pleasure in a conquest where the profits of victory would be +thoroughly despised. We are not bold enough to say that such feelings +found their place in Mary's heart. We must leave its analysis to wiser +and more cunning anatomists. + +Straying onwards ever in deep thought, and not remarking whither, she +was suddenly struck by the noise of masonry,--strange sounds in a +spot thus lonely and remote; and now walking quickly onward, she found +herself on the path by which the vicar on Sundays approached the church; +and here, at a little distance, descried workmen employed in walling up +the little gateway of the passage. + +“By whose orders is this done?” cried Mary, to whose quick intelligence +the act revealed its whole meaning and motive. + +“Mr. Henderson, miss,” replied one of the men. “He said we were to +work all night at it, if we could n't be sure of getting it done before +Sunday.” + +A burst of passionate indignation rose to her lips, but she turned away +without a word, and re-entered the wood in silence. + +“Yes,” cried she, to herself, “it is, indeed, a new existence is opening +before me; let me strive so to control my temper, that I may view it +calmly and dispassionately, so that others may not suffer from the +changes in my fortune.” + +She no sooner reached the house than she despatched a note to Mr. +Scanlan, requesting to see him as early as possible on the following +morning. This done, she set herself to devise her plans for the +future,--speculations, it must be owned, to which her own hopeful +temperament gave a coloring that a colder spirit and more calculating +mind had never bestowed on them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. HOW MR. SCANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE + +It is a remark of Wieland's, that although the life of man is measured +by the term of fourscore years and ten, yet that his ideal existence +or, as he calls it, his “unacted life,” meaning thereby his period of +dreamy, projective, and forecasting existence, would occupy a far +wider space. And he goes on to say that it is in this same imaginative +longevity men differ the most from each other, the poet standing to the +ungifted peasant in the ratio of centuries to years. + +Mr. Maurice Scanlan would not appear a favorable subject by which to +test this theory. If not endowed with any of the higher and greater +qualities of intellect, he was equally removed from any deficiency on +that score. The world called him “a clever fellow,” and the world is +rarely in fault in such judgments. Where there is a question of the +creative faculties, where it is the divine essence itself is the matter +of decision, the world will occasionally be betrayed into mistakes, as +fashion and a passing enthusiasm may mislead it; but where it is +the practical and the real, the exercise of gifts by which men make +themselves rich and powerful, then the world makes no blunders. She +knows them as a mother knows her children. They are indeed the “World's +own.” + +We have come to these speculations by contemplating Mr. Scanlan as he +sat with Mary Martin's open letter before him. The note was couched in +polite terms, requesting Mr. Scanlan to favor the writer with a visit +at his earliest convenience, if possible early on the following morning. +Had it been a document of suspected authenticity, a forged acceptance, +an interpolated article in a deed, a newly discovered codicil to a will, +he could not have canvassed every syllable, scrutinized every letter, +with more searching zeal. It was hurriedly written; there was, +therefore, some emergency. It began, “Dear sir,” a style she had never +employed before; the letter “D” was blotted, and seemed to have been +originally destined for an “M,” as though she had commenced “Miss Martin +requests,” etc., and then suddenly adopted the more familiar address. +The tone of command by which he was habitually summoned to Cro' Martin +was assuredly not there, and Maurice was not the man to undervalue the +smallest particle of evidence. + +“She has need of me,” cried he to himself; “she sees everything in a +state of subversion and chaos around her, and looks to me as the man to +restore order. The people are entreating her to stay law proceedings, to +give them time, to employ them; the poorest are all importuning her with +stories of their sufferings. She is powerless, and, what's worse, she +does not know what it is to be powerless to help them. She'll struggle +and fret and scheme, and plan fifty things, and when she has failed in +them all, fall back upon Maurice Scanlan for advice and counsel.” + +It was a grave question with Scanlan how far he would suffer her +persecutions to proceed before he would come to her aid. “If I bring my +succor too early, she may never believe the emergency was critical; if I +delay it too long, she may abandon the field in despair, and set off to +join her uncle.” These were the two propositions which he placed before +himself for consideration. It was a case for very delicate management, +great skill, and great patience, but it was well worth all the cost. +“If I succeed,” said he to himself, “I'm a made man. Mary Martin Mrs. +Scanlan, I 'm the agent for the whole estate, with Cro' Martin to live +in, and all the property at my discretion. If I fail,--that is, if I +fail without blundering,--I 'm just where I was. Well,” thought he, as +he drove into the demesne, “I never thought I'd have such a chance as +this. All gone, and she alone here by herself: none to advise, not one +even to keep her company! I'd have given a thousand pounds down just for +this opportunity, without counting all the advantages I have in my +power from my present position, for I can do what I like with the +estate,--give leases or break them. It will be four months at least +before old Repton comes down here, and in that time I'll have finished +whatever I want to do. And now to begin the game.” And with this he +turned into the stable-yard, and descended from his gig. Many men +would have been struck by the changed aspect of the place,--silence and +desolation where before there were movement and bustle; but Scanlan +only read in the altered appearances around the encouragement of his own +ambitious hopes. The easy swagger in which the attorney indulged while +moving about the stable-yard declined into a more becoming gait as he +traversed the long corridors, and finally became actually respectful as +he drew nigh the library, where he was informed Miss Martin awaited +him, so powerful was the influence of old habit over the more vulgar +instincts of his nature. He had intended to be very familiar and at his +ease, and ere he turned the handle of the door his courage failed him. + +“This is very kind of you, Mr. Scanlan,” said she, advancing a few steps +towards him as he entered. “You must have started early from home.” + +“At five, miss,” said he, bowing deferentially. + +“And of course you have not breakfasted?” + +“Indeed, then, I only took a cup of coffee. I was anxious to be early. I +thought from your note that there might be something urgent.” + +Mary half smiled at the mingled air of bashfulness and gallantry in +which he uttered these broken sentences; for without knowing it himself, +while he began in some confusion, he attained a kind of confidence as he +went on. + +“Nor have I breakfasted, either,” said she; “and I beg, therefore, you +will join me.” + +Scanlan's face actually glowed with pleasure. + +“I have many things to consult you upon with regard to the estate, and I +am fully aware that there is nobody more competent to advise me.” + +“Nor more ready and willing, miss,” said Maurice, bowing. + +“I 'm perfectly certain of that, Mr. Scanlan. The confidence my uncle +has always reposed in you assures me on that head.” + +“Was n't I right about the borough, Miss Mary?” broke he in. “I told you +how it would be, and that if you did n't make some sort of a compromise +with the Liberal party--” + +“Let me interrupt you, Mr. Scanlan, and once for all assure you that +there is not one subject of all those which pertain to this county and +its people which has so little interest for me as the local squabbles +of party; and I 'm sure no success on either side is worth the broken +friendships and estranged affections it leaves behind it.” + +“A beautiful sentiment, to which I respond with all my heart,” rejoined +Scanlan, with an energy that made her blush deeply. + +“I only meant to say, sir,” added she, hastily, “that the borough and +its politics need never be discussed between us.” + +“Just so, miss. We'll call on the next case,” said Scanlan. + +“My uncle's sudden departure, and a slight indisposition under which I +have labored for a week or so, have thrown me so far in arrear of all +knowledge of what has been done here, that I must first of all ask you, +not how the estate is to be managed in future, but does it any longer +belong to us?” + +“What, miss?” cried Scanlan, in amazement. + +“I mean, sir, is it my uncle's determination to lease out +everything,--even to the demesne around the Castle; to sell the timber +and dispose of the royalties? If so, a mere residence here could have +no object for _me_. It seems strange, Mr. Scanlan, that I should have +to ask such a question. I own to you,--it is not without some sense of +humiliation that I do so,--I believed, I fancied I had understood my +uncle's intentions. Some of them he had even committed to writing, at +my request; you shall see them yourself. The excitement and confusion of +his departure,--the anxieties of leave-taking,--one thing or another, +in short, gave me little time to seek his counsel as to many points I +wished to know; and, in fact, I found myself suddenly alone before I was +quite prepared for it, and then I fell ill,--a mere passing attack, but +enough to unfit me for occupation.” + +“Breakfast is served, miss,” said a maid-servant, at this conjuncture, +opening a door into a small room, where the table was spread. + +“I'm quite ready, and so I hope is Mr. Scanlan,” said Mary, leading the +way. + +No sooner seated at table than she proceeded to do the honors with an +ease that plainly told that all the subject of her late discourse was to +be left for the present in abeyance. In fact, the very tone of her voice +was changed, as she chatted away carelessly about the borough people and +their doings, what strangers had lately passed through the town, and the +prospects of the coming season at Kilkieran. + +No theme could more readily have put Mr. Scanlan at his ease. He felt, +or fancied he felt, himself at that degree of social elevation above +the Oughterard people, which enabled him to talk with a species of +compassionate jocularity of their little dinners and evening parties. +He criticised toilet and manners and cookery, therefore, with much +self-complacency,--far more than had he suspected that Mary Martin's +amusement was more derived from the pretension of the speaker than the +matter which he discussed. + +“That's what I think you'll find hardest of all, Miss Martin,” said he, +at the close of a florid description of the borough customs. “You can +have no society here.” + +“And yet I mean to try,” said she, smiling; “at least, I have gone +so far as to ask Mrs. Nelligan to come and dine with me on Monday or +Tuesday next.” + +“Mrs. Nelligan dine at Cro' Martin!” exclaimed he. + +“If she will be good enough to come so far for so little!” + +“She 'd go fifty miles on the same errand; and if I know old Dan +himself, he 'll be a prouder man that day than when his son gained the +gold medal.” + +“Then I'm sure _I_, at least, am perfectly requited,” said Mary. + +“But are you certain, Miss, that such people will suit you?” said +Scanlan, half timidly. “They live in a very different style, and have +other ways than yours. I say nothing against Mrs. Nelligan; indeed, she +comes of a very respectable family; but sure she hasn't a thought nor an +idea in common with Miss Martin.” + +“I suspect you are wrong there, Mr. Scanlan. My impression is, that Mrs. +Nelligan and I will find many topics to agree upon, and that we shall +understand each other perfectly; and if, as you suppose, there may be +certain things new and strange to me in _her_ modes of thinking, I 'm +equally sure she 'll have to conquer many prejudices with regard to +_me_. + +“I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, miss!” was the sententious reply of +Scanlan. + +“Then there's our vicar!” broke in Mary. “Mr. Leslie will, I hope, take +pity on my solitude.” + +“Indeed, I forgot him entirely. I don't think I ever saw him at Cro' +Martin.” + +“Nor I, either,” said Mary; “but he may concede from a sense of kindness +what he would decline to a mere point of etiquette. In a word, Mr. +Scanlan,” said she, after a pause, “all the troubles and misfortunes +which we have lately gone through--even to the destitution of the old +house here--have in a great measure had their origin in the studious +ignorance in which we have lived of our neighbors. I don't wish to +enter upon political topics, but I am sure that had we known the +borough people, and they us,--had we been in the habit of mingling and +associating together, however little,--had we interchanged the little +civilities that are the charities of social life,--we 'd have paused, +either of us, ere we gave pain to the other; we'd at least have made +concessions on each side, and so softened down the asperities of party. +More than half the enmities of the world are mere misconceptions.” + +“That's true!” said Scanlan, gravely. But his thoughts had gone on +a very different errand from the theme in question, and were busily +inquiring what effect all these changes might have upon his own +prospects. + +“And now for a matter of business,” said Mary, rising and taking her +place at another table. “I shall want your assistance, Mr. Scanlan. +There is a small sum settled upon me, but not payable during my uncle's +life. I wish to raise a certain amount of this, by way of loan,--say a +thousand pounds. Will this be easily accomplished?” + +“What's the amount of the settlement, miss?” said Scanlan, with more +eagerness than was quite disinterested. + +“Five thousand pounds. There is the deed.” And she pushed a parchment +towards him. + +Scanlan ran his practised eye rapidly over the document, and with the +quick craft of his calling saw it was all correct. “One or even two +thousand can be had upon this at once, miss. It 's charged upon Kelly's +farm and the mills--” + +“All I want to know is, that I can have this sum at my disposal, and +very soon; at once, indeed.” + +“Will next week suit you?” + +“Perfectly. And now to another point. These are the few memoranda my +uncle left with me as to his wishes respecting the management of the +estate. You will see that, although he desires a considerable diminution +of the sum to be spent in wages, and a strict economy in all outlay, +that he still never contemplated throwing the people out of employment. +The quarries were to be worked as before,--the planting was to be +continued,--the gardens and ornamental grounds, indeed, were to be +conducted with less expense; but the harbor at Kilkieran and the new +school-house at Ternagh were to be completed; and if money could be +spared for it, he gave me leave to build a little hospital at the +cross-roads, allowing forty pounds additional salary to Dr. Cloves +for his attendance. These are the chief points; but you shall have the +papers to read over at your leisure. We talked over many other matters; +indeed, we chatted away till long after two o'clock the last night he +was here, and I thought I understood perfectly all he wished. Almost his +last words to me at parting were, 'As little change as possible, Molly. +Let the poor people believe that I am still, where my heart is, under +the roof of Cro' Martin!'” + +The recollection of the moment brought the tears to her eyes, and she +turned her head away in silence. + +“Now,” said she, rallying, and speaking with renewed energy, “if what +Henderson says be correct, something later must have been issued than +all this; some directions which I have never seen,--not so much as heard +of. He tells me of works to be stopped, people discharged, schoolhouses +closed, tenants ejected; in fact, a whole catalogue of such changes as I +never could have courage to see, much less carry through. I know my dear +uncle well; he never would have imposed such a task upon me, nor have I +the resources within me for such an undertaking.” + +“And have you received no letter from Mr. Martin, from Dublin?” asked +Scanlan. + +“None,--not a line; a note from my aunt--indeed, not from my aunt, but +by her orders, written by Kate Henderson--has reached me, in which, +however, there is no allusion to the property or the place.” + +“And yet her Ladyship said that Mr. Martin would write to you himself, +in the course of the week, fully and explicitly.” + +“To whom was this said, sir?” + +“To myself, miss; there is the letter.” And Scanlan drew from his +pocket-book a very voluminous epistle, in Kate Henderson's hand. “This +contains the whole of her Ladyship's instructions. How all the works are +to be stopped,--roads, woods, and quarries; the townlands of Carrigalone +and Killybogue to be distrained; Kyle-a-Noe the same. If a tenant can be +got for the demesne, it is to be let, with the shooting over the seven +mountains, and the coast-fishing too. There's to be no more charges for +schools, hospital, or dispensary after next November; everything is to +be on the new plan, what they call 'Self-supporting.' I 'd like to know +what that means. In fact, miss, by the time one half the orders given +in that same letter is carried out, there won't be such another scene of +misery and confusion in all Ireland as the estate of Cro' Martin.” + +“And this is sanctioned by my uncle?” + +“I suppose we must conclude it is, for he says nothing to the contrary; +and Mr. Repton writes me what he calls 'my instructions,' in a way that +shows his own feeling of indignation about the whole business.” + +Mary was silent; there was not a sentiment which could give pain that +had not then its place in her heart. Commiseration, deep pity for +the sorrows she was to witness unavailingly, wounded pride, insulted +self-esteem,--all were there! And she turned away to hide the emotions +which overcame her. For a moment the sense of self had the mastery, and +she thought but of how she was to endure all this humiliation. “Am +I,” said she to her own heart,--“am I to be insulted by the rivalry of +Scotch stewards and gardeners, to be thrust from my place of power by +some low-born creature, not even of the soil, but an alien?--to live +here bereft of influence, representing nothing save the decay of our +fortunes?” The torrent of her passion ran full and deep, and her +bosom heaved in the agony of the moment. And then as suddenly came the +reaction. “How small a share is mine in all this suffering, and +how miserably selfish are even my sorrows! It is of others I should +think!--of those who must leave hearth and home to seek out a new +resting-place,--of the poor, who are to be friendless,--of the +suffering, to whom no comfort is to come,--of the old, who are to die +in distant lands,--and the young, whose hearts are never to warm to the +affections of a native country!” + +While affecting to arrange the papers in his pocket-book, Scanlan +watched every passing shade of emotion in her face. Nor was it a study +in which he was ignorant; the habits of his calling had made him a very +subtle observer. Many a time had he framed his question to a witness +by some passing expression of the features. More than once had he +penetrated the heart through the eye! The elevation of sentiment had +given its own character to her handsome face; and as she stood proudly +erect, with arms folded on her breast, there was in her look and +attitude all the calm dignity of an antique statue. + +Scanlan interpreted truthfully what passed within her, and rightly +judged that no small sentiment of condolence or sympathy would be +appropriate to the occasion. Nor was he altogether unprovided for +the emergency. He had seen a king's counsel warm up a jury to the +boiling-point, and heard him pour forth, with all the seeming vehemence +of an honest conviction, the wildest rhapsodies about desecrated hearths +and blackened roof-trees,--talk of the spoiler and the seducer,--and +even shed a tear “over the widow and the orphan!” + +“What say you to all this, sir?” cried she. “Have you any counsel to +give me,--any advice?” + +“It is just what I have not, miss,” said he, despondingly; “and, indeed, +it was uppermost in my heart this morning when I was writing my letter. +What 's all I 'm suffering compared to what Miss Martin must feel?” + +“What letter do you allude to?” asked she, suddenly. + +“A letter I wrote to Mr. Repton, miss,” said he, with a deep sigh. “I +told him plainly my mind about everything; and I said, 'If it 's for +exterminating you are,--if you 're going to turn out families that +were on the land for centuries, and drive away over the seas, God knows +where, the poor people that thought the name of Martin a shield against +all the hardships of life, all I have to say is, you must look elsewhere +for help, since it is not Maurice Scanlan will aid you.'” + +“You said all this, sir?” broke she in, eagerly. + +“I did, miss. I told him I 'd hold the under-agency till he named some +one to succeed me; but that I 'd not put my hand to one act or deed to +distress the tenants. It 's giving up,” said I, “the best part of +my means of support; it's surrendering what I reckoned on to make me +independent. But a good conscience is better than money, miss; and if I +must seek out a new country, I 'll go at least without the weight of a +cruel wrong over me; and if I see one of our poor Western people beyond +seas, I 'll not be ashamed to meet him!” + +“Oh, that was noble,--that was truly noble conduct!” cried she, grasping +his hand in both her own. “How I thank you from my very heart for this +magnanimity!” + +“If I ever suspected you 'd have said the half of this, Miss Mary, the +sacrifice would have been a cheap one, indeed. But, in truth, I never +meant to tell it. I intended to have kept my own secret; for I knew if +any one only imagined why it was I threw up the agency, matters would +only be worse on the estate.” + +“Yes, you are right,” said she, thoughtfully. “This was most +considerate. Such a censure would augment every difficulty.” + +“I felt that, miss. What I said to myself was, 'My successor will +neither know the place nor the people; he 'll be cruel where he ought +to have mercy, and spare those that he ought to keep to their duty.' +It isn't in a day nor a week that a man learns the habits of a large +tenantry, nor was it without labor and pains that I acquired my present +influence amongst them.” + +“Quite true,” said she; but more as though following out her own +reflections than hearing his. + +“They 'll have _you_, however,” said Scanlan,--“you, that are better to +them than all the agents that ever breathed; and the very sight of you +riding down amongst them will cheer their hearts in the darkest moments +of life. I turned back the whole townland of Terry Valley. They +were packing up to be off to America; but I told them, 'she 's not +going,--she 'll stay here, and never desert you.'” + +“Nor will _you_ either, sir,” cried Mary. “You will not desert them, nor +desert _me_. Recall your letter!” + +“It's not gone off to the post yet. I was waiting to see you--” + +“Better still. Oh, Mr. Scanlan, bethink you how much yet may be done for +these poor people, if we will but forget ourselves and what we think we +owe to self-esteem. If _you_ will have sacrifices to make, believe me, +_I_ shall not escape them also. It is nobler, too, and finer to +remain here bereft of influence, stripped of all power, to share their +sufferings and take part in their afflictions. Neither you nor I shall +be to them what we have been; but still, let us not abandon them. Tell +me this,--say that you will stay to counsel and advise me, to guide me +where I need guidance, and give me all the benefit of your experience +and your knowledge. Let it be a compact between us then; neither shall +go while the other remains!” + +It was with difficulty Scanlan could restrain his delight at these +words. How flattering to his present vanity,--how suggestive were they +of the future! With all the solemnity of a vow he bound himself to stay; +and Mary thanked him with the fervor of true gratitude. + +If there be few emotions so pleasurable as to be the object of +acknowledged gratitude for real services, it may well be doubted whether +the consciousness of not having merited this reward does not seriously +detract from this enjoyment. There are men, however, so constituted that +a successful scheme--no matter how unscrupulously achieved--is always +a triumph, and who cherish their self-love even in degradation! Maurice +Scanlan is before our reader, and whether he was one of this number it +is not for us to say; enough if we record that when he cantered homeward +on that day he sang many a snatch of a stray ballad, and none of them +were sad ones. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN + +Nothing is further from our intention than to enter upon the long-vexed +question as to the benefits of an Established Church for Ireland. Wiser +heads than ours have discussed it polemically, politically, socially, +and arithmetically; and there it is still, left to the judgment of each, +as his religion, his party, or his prejudices sway him. There is one +view of the subject, however, which no traveller in the country has +ever failed to be struck by; which is, that these settlements of +Protestantism, dotted through the land, are so many types of an advanced +civilization, suggesting, even to those of a different faith, respect +and veneration for the decorous observance of this Church, and the calm +peace-fulness with which they keep the Sabbath. + +Priests may denounce and politicians declaim, but the Irish peasant, +nurtured with all the prejudices of race and religion, never throws off +his veneration for the little flock, who, like a brave garrison in a +besieged land, hold manfully together round the banner of their Faith! +How striking is this in remote parts of the country, where the reformed +religion has made little progress, and its followers are few in number! + +It was Sunday; the gates of Cro' Martin Park were open to admit all who +might repair to the church. When the Martins were at home, Lady Dorothea +used to give to these occasions somewhat of the state of a procession. +The servants wore their dress liveries; two carriages were in waiting. +She herself appeared in a toilet that might have graced a court chapel; +and a formal ceremoniousness of speech and demeanor were ordained as the +becoming recognition of the holy day. Trained to these observances by +many a year, Mary could scarcely comprehend the strange sensation she +felt as she walked along to church, unattended and alone. It was a +bright day of early summer, with a soft wind stirring the leaves above, +and rippling pleasantly the waters of the lake. The perfume of the new +hay floated through the thin air, with the odor of the whitethorn and +the meadow-sweet; the birds were singing merrily; and through this gay +carol came the mellow sound of the little bell that summoned to prayer. +There was a delicious sense of repose in the stillness around, telling +how, amid the cares and contentions of life, its wealth seekings, and +its petty schemes there came moments when the better instincts were +the victors, and men, in all the diversities of their rank and +station, could meet together to kneel at one altar, and unite in one +supplication. As she went, little glimpses were caught by her of the +distant country beyond the demesne; and over all there reigned the same +tranquillity; the sound of voices, far away, adding to the effect, and +making the silence more palpable. “How peaceful it is,” thought she, +“and how happy it might be! Could we but bridle our own passions, +restrain our mean jealousies, and curb the evil promptings of our own +hearts, what blessings might grow up amongst them! But for objects not +worth the attaining,--ambitions of no value when won,--and my uncle +might still be here, strolling along, perhaps, with me at this +very moment, and with me drinking in this calm repose and soothing +quietness.” + +Before her, at some little distance on the path, went the three +daughters of the village doctor; and, though well and becomingly +attired, there was nothing in their appearance to warrant the reproach +Lady Dorothea had cast upon their style of dress. It was, indeed, +scrupulously neat, but simple. The eldest was a girl of about sixteen, +with all the gravity of manner and staid expression that belongs +to those who stand in the light of mothers to younger sisters. The +housekeeper of her father's little home, the manager of all within +its humble household, his secretary, his companion, Ellen Cloves had +acquired, while little more than a child, the patient and submissive +temper that long worldly trial confers. They lived perfectly to +themselves; between the society of the castle and that of the farmers +around there was no intermediate territory, and thus they passed their +lives in a little circle of home duties and affections, which made up +all their world. + +Mary Martin had often wished it in her power to show them some +attentions; she was attracted by their gentle faces and their calm +and happy demeanor. Had her aunt permitted, she would have frequently +invited them to the castle, lent them books and music, and sought +companionship in their intercourse. But Lady Dorothea would not have +heard of such a project; her theory was that familiarity with the +peasant was so far safe that his station was a safeguard against any +undue intimacy; while your half-gentry were truly perilous, for if you +condescended to civility with them, they invariably mistook it for a +friendship. Dr. Cloves dined every Christmas-day at the great house; but +so did Mr. Scanlan and all the other heads of departments. It was a very +grand and solemn festival, where neither host nor guest was happy; each +felt that it was but the acquaintance of an hour, and that with the +moment of leave-taking came back all the cold reserve of the day before. + +“Good-morning, Miss Cloves; good-day, Jane, and little Bessy,” said +Mary, as she overtook them. + +“Good-morning to you, Miss Martin,” said Ellen, blushing with surprise +at seeing her alone and on foot. + +“I trust the doctor is not ill? I don't see him with you,” said Mary, +anxious to relieve her momentary embarrassment. + +“Papa has been sent for to Knocktiernan, Miss Martin. They 're afraid +that a case of cholera has occurred there.” + +“May God forbid!” ejaculated Mary, with deep emotion; “we have great +distress and poverty around us. I hope we may be spared this scourge.” + +“It is what papa feared always,” rejoined Ellen, gravely; “that want and +destitution would bring on the malady.” + +“Have you heard who it is is ill?” + +“Simon Hanley, the carpenter, Miss Martin; he worked at the castle +once--” + +“Yes, yes I remember him; he made me my first little garden-rake. Poor +fellow! And he has a large family. Your father will, I trust, have seen +him in time. Knocktiernan is but four miles of a good road.” + +“Papa went by the Mills, Miss Martin, for shortness, for he was on +foot.” + +“Why did he not ride?” + +“He has sold Bluebell,--the pony, I mean, Miss Martin.” + +Mary's face became crimson with a blush that seemed to burn through the +forehead into her very brain, and she could only mutter,-- + +“I 'm sorry I did n't know; my carriage and pony were in the stable. If +I had but heard of this--” and was silent. + +They had now reached the entrance to the little churchyard, where the +few members of the small flock lingered, awaiting the arrival of the +clergyman. Amidst many a respectful salutation and gaze of affectionate +interest, Mary walked to the end of the aisle, where, shrouded in heavy +curtains, soft-cushioned and high-panelled, stood the castle pew. + +It must be, indeed, hard for the rich man to enter the kingdom of +heaven. The very appliances of his piety are the offshoots of his +voluptuous habits; and that his heart should feel humble, his hassock +must be of down! It was not often that the words of the pastor were +heard within that solemn, small enclosure with the same reverent +devotion. Mary was now alone there; her mind no longer distracted by +the petty incidents of their coming, her proud station seemed to +have vanished, and she felt herself but as one of an humble flock, +supplicating and in sorrow! + +Dr. Leslie had heard of the terrible visitation which menaced them, and +made it the subject of his sermon. The fact of his own great age and +fast declining strength gave a deeper meaning to all he said, and +imparted to the faltering words of his benediction the solemnity of a +farewell. + +“You are a little fatigued to-day, doctor,” said Mary, as he came out of +church. “Will you allow me to offer you my arm?” + +“Willingly, my dear Miss Mary. But this is not our road.” + +“Why so?--this is the path to the vicarage.” + +“They 've made some change, my dear; they 've altered the approach.” + +“And you came round by the avenue,--a distance of two miles?” cried she, +deep crimson with shame. + +“And kept you all waiting; but not very long, I trust,” said he, smiling +benevolently. “But come, talk to me of yourself, and when I am to come +and see you.” + +“Oh, my dear Dr. Leslie, you must not think that I--that my uncle--” She +stopped, and he pressed her hand gently, and said,-- + +“Do not speak of it; do not give importance to things which are trifles, +if we have but good temper to leave them so. Is to-morrow a free day +with you; or when shall I hope to find you at leisure?” + +“My dear doctor, every day will be so in future; all my functions have +ceased here. I am to be nothing in future.” + +“I had heard something of that, and I said to myself, 'Now will Mary +Martin display her real character. No longer carried away by the mere +enthusiasm of her great power and her high station, not exalted to +herself by the flatteries around her, we shall see whether the sterling +qualities of her nature will not supply higher and greater resources +than all the credit at a banker's!' I never undervalued all you did +here, Mary Martin; I saw your noble purpose, even in failures; but I +always felt that to make these efforts react favorably on yourself, +there should be something of sacrifice. To do good was a luxury to +you; and it was a luxury very easy to purchase. You were rich, you were +powerful; none controlled you. Your benefits were acknowledged with all +the enthusiasm of peasant gratitude. Why should you not be beneficent? +what other course of conduct could bring you one half the pleasure? +For the future, it is from another source you must dispense wealth; but +happily it is one which there is no exhausting, for the heart exercised +to charity has boundless stores. Let these be your riches now. Go +amongst the people; learn to know them,--rather their friend than their +benefactor,--and believe me that all the gold you have scattered so +generously will not have sown such seeds of goodness as the meek example +of your own noble submission to altered fortune. There, my dear,” said +he, smiling, “I 'll say no more, lest you should tell me that I have +preached half an hour already. And I may come to-morrow, you say?” + +“What a happiness it will be for me to speak to you!” said Mary, +ardently. “There are so many things I want to say,--so much on which I +need advice.” + +“I 'm but little practised in the ways of the world,” said he, with a +gentle sigh, “but I have ever found great wisdom in an honest purpose; +and then,” added he, more warmly, “it is a fine philosophy that secures +us against humiliation, even in defeat!” + +They now walked along for some time without speaking, when a sudden +angle of the path brought them directly in front of the castle. They +both halted suddenly, struck, as it were, by the aspect of the spacious +and splendid structure, all silent and deserted. The doors were +closed, the windows shuttered,--not a living creature moved about the +precincts,--and the lone flagstaff on the tower unfurled no “banner to +the breeze.” Even the trimly kept parterres were beginning to show signs +of neglect, and tangled flowers fell across the gravel. + +“What a lonely home for _her!_” muttered the old doctor to himself; then +suddenly exclaimed, “Here comes some one in search of you, Miss Martin.” + +And a servant approached and whispered a few words in her ear. + +“Yes, immediately,” said she, in reply. + +She entreated the old man to rest himself for a while ere he continued +his walk homeward; but he declined, and with an affectionate farewell +they parted,--he towards the vicarage, and she to re-enter the castle. + +There is no need to practise mystery with our reader; and he who +had just arrived, and was eager to see Miss Martin, was only Maurice +Scanlan! As little use is there also in denying the fact that Mary was +much annoyed at his inopportune coming. She was in no mood of mind to +meet either him or such topics as he would certainly discuss. + +However, she had, so to say, given him a permission to be admitted at +all times, and there was no help for it! + +These same people that one “must see,” are very terrible inflictions +sometimes. They are ever present at the wrong time and the wrong +place. They come in moments when their presence is a discord to all our +thoughts; and what is to the full as bad, they don't know it,--or they +will not know it. They have an awful amount of self-esteem, and fancy +that they never can be but welcome. A type of this class was Maurice +Scanlan. Thrust forward by the accidents of life into situations for +which nothing in his own humble beginnings seemed to adapt him, he had, +like all the other Maurice Scanlans of the world, taken to suppose that +he was really a very necessary and important ingredient in all affairs. +He found, too, that his small cunning served to guide him, where really +able men's wisdom failed them,--for so it is, people won't take +soundings when they think they can see the bottom; and, finally, he +conceived a very high opinion of his faculties, and thought them equal +to much higher purposes than they had ever been engaged in. + +Since his last interview with Mary Martin, he had never ceased to +congratulate himself on the glorious turn of his affairs. Though not +over-sanguine about others, Maurice was always hopeful of himself. It is +one of the characteristics of such men, and one of the greatest aids to +their activity, this ever-present belief in themselves. To secure the +good opinion he had already excited in his favor was now his great +endeavor; and nothing could so effectually contribute to this, as to +show an ardent zeal and devotion to her wishes. He had read somewhere of +a certain envoy who had accomplished his mission ere it was believed he +had set out; and he resolved to profit by the example. It was, then, +in the full confidence of success, that he presented himself on this +occasion. + +Mary received him calmly, almost coldly. His presence was not in harmony +with any thought that occupied her, and she deemed the task of admitting +him something like an infliction. + +“I drove over, Miss Mary,” said he, rather disconcerted by her +reserve,--“I drove over to-day, though I know you don't like business on +a Sunday, just to say that I had completed that little matter you spoke +of,--the money affair. I did n't sleep on it, but went to work at once; +and though the papers won't be ready for some days, the cash is ready +for you whenever you like to draw it.” + +“You have been very kind and very prompt, sir,” said she, thankfully, +but with a languor that showed she was not thinking of the subject. + +“He said five per cent,” continued Scanlan, “and I made no objection; +for, to tell you the truth, I expected he'd have asked us six,--he's +generally a hard hand to deal with.” + +It was evident that he hoped her curiosity might have inquired the name +of him thus alluded to; but she never did so, but heard the fact with a +calm indifference. + +Scanlan was uneasy; his heaviest artillery had opened no breach. What +should be his next manouvre? + +“The money-market is tight just now,” said he, speaking only to gain +time for further observation; “and there's worse times even before us.” + +If Mary heard, she did not notice this gloomy speculation. + +“I 'm sure it will be no easy job to get the last November rent paid up. +It was a bad crop; and now there 's sickness coming amongst them,” said +he, half as though to himself. “You'll have to excuse me to-day, Mr. +Scanlan,” said she, at last. “I find I can think of nothing; I am in one +of my idle moods.” + +“To be sure, why not, Miss Mary?” said he, evidently piqued at the +ill-success of all his zeal. “It was _I_ made a mistake. I fancied, +somehow, you were anxious about this little matter; but another day will +do as well,--whenever it's your own convenience.” + +“You are always considerate, always good-natured, Mr. Scanlan,” said +she, with a vagueness that showed she was scarcely conscious of what she +uttered. + +“If _you_ think so, Miss Mary, I 'm well repaid,” said he, with a dash +of gallantry in the tone; “nor is it by a trifle like this I'd like to +show my--my--my--devotion.” And the last word came out with an effort +that made his face crimson. + +“Yes,” muttered she, not hearing one word of his speech. + +“So that I'll come over to-morrow, Miss Mary,” broke he in. + +“Very well, to-morrow!” replied she, as still musing she turned to the +window, no more thinking of the luckless attorney than if he had been +miles away; and when at length she did look round, he was gone! It was +some minutes ere Mary could perfectly reconcile herself to the fact that +he had been there at all; but as to how and when and why he took his +leave, were mysteries of which she could make nothing. And yet Mr. +Scanlan had gone through a very ceremonious farewell. He had bowed, and +sidled, and simpered, and smirked, and sighed; had thrown himself into +attitudes pictorially devoted and despairing, looked unutterable things +in various styles, and finally made an exit, covered with as much +shame and discomfiture as so confident a spirit could well experience, +muttering, as he paced the corridor, certain prospective reprisals for +this haughty indifference, when a certain time should arrive, and a +certain fair lady--But we have no right to push his speculations further +than he himself indulged them; and on the present occasion Maurice was +less sanguine than his wont. + +“I fed the mare, sir,” said Barnes, as he held the stirrup for Scanlan +to mount. + +“And gave her water, too,” said the attorney, doggedly. + +“Devil a drop, then,” resumed the other. “I just sprinkled the oats, no +more; that's Miss Mary's orders always.” + +“She understands a stable well,” said Scanlan, half questioning. + +“Does n't she?” said the other, with a sententious smack of the lip. “To +bit a horse or to back him, to tache him his paces and cure him of bad +tricks, to train him for harness, double and single, to show him the way +over a wall or a wide ditch, to make him rise light and come down easy, +she has n't a match on this island; and as for training,” added he, with +fresh breath, “did you see Sir Lucius?” + +“No,” said Scanlan, with awakened interest. + +“Wait till I bring him out, then. I'll show you a picture!” And Barnes +disappeared into the stable. In five minutes after, he returned, leading +a dark brown horse, who, even shrouded in all the covering of hood +and body-clothes, displayed in his long step and lounging gait the +attributes of a racer. + +In a few minutes Barnes had unbuckled strap and surcingle, and sweeping +back the blankets dexterously over the croup, so as not to ruffle a hair +of the glossy coat, exhibited an animal of surpassing symmetry, in all +the pride of high condition. + +“There's a beast,” said he, proudly, “without speck or spot, brand or +blemish about him! You 're a good judge of a horse, Mr. Scanlan; and +tell me when did you see his equal?” + +“He's a nice horse!” said Scanlan, slowly, giving to each word a slow +and solemn significance; then, casting a keen glance all around and over +him, added, “There 's a splint on the off leg!” + +“So there is, the least taste in life,” said Barnes, passing his hand +lightly over it; “and was there ever a horse--worth the name of a +horse--that hadn't a splint? Sure, they 're foaled with them! I wanted +Miss Mary to let me take that off with an ointment I have, but she would +n't. 'It's not in the way of the tendon,' says she. 'It will never spoil +his action, and we 'll not blemish him with a mark.' Them's her very +words.” + +“He's a nice horse,” said Scanlan, once more, as if the very parsimony +of the praise was the highest testimony of the utterer; “and in rare +condition, too,” added he. + +“In the very highest,” said Barnes. “He was as sure of that cup as I am +that my name 's Tim.” + +“What cup?” asked Scanlan. + +“Kiltimmon,--the June race; he's entered and all; and now he's to +be sold,--them 's the orders I got yesterday; he's to be auctioned at +Dycer's on Saturday for whatever he'll bring!” + +“And now, what do you expect for him, Barnes?” said Maurice, +confidentially. + +“Sorrow one o' me knows. He might go for fifty,--he might go for two +hundred and fifty! and cheap he'd be of it. He has racing speed over a +flat course, and steeplechase action for his fences. With eleven stone +on his back--one that can ride, I mean, of course--he 'd challenge all +Ireland.” + +[Illustration: 418] + +“I would n't mind making a bid for him myself,” said Scanlan, hesitating +between his jockeyism and the far deeper game which he was playing. + +“Do then, sir, and don't draw him for the race, for he 'll win it as +sure as I 'm here. 'T is Jemmy was to ride him; and Miss Mary would n't +object to give you the boy, jacket and all, her own colors,--blue, with +white sleeves.” + +“Do you think so, Barnes? Do you think she'd let me run him in the +Martin colors?” cried Scanlan, to whom the project now had suddenly +assumed a most fascinating aspect. + +“What would you give for him?” asked Barnes, in a business-like voice. + +“A hundred,--a hundred and fifty,--two hundred, if I was sure of what +you say.” + +“Leave it to me, sir,--leave it all to _me_,” said Barnes, with the +gravity of a diplomatist who understood his mission. “Where can I see +you to-morrow?” + +“I 'll be here about ten o'clock!” + +“That will do,--enough said!” And Barnes, replacing the horse-sheet, +slowly re-entered the stable; while Scanlan, putting spurs to his nag, +dashed hurriedly away, his thoughts outstripping in their speed the pace +he went, and traversing space with a rapidity that neither “blood” nor +training ever vied with. + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of +II), by Charles James Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN *** + +***** This file should be named 35143-0.txt or 35143-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/1/4/35143/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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