>F^- e1 ■ffii 'iSSV THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN ■ //M'U/ '/ THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN BY CHARLES LEVER AUTHOR OF "CHARLES O'mALLEY " WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. VOL. I. I > 3 LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS The Broadway, Ludgate NEW YORK : 416 BROOME STREET ■^ ^ 3 i 3 J 3 3 3 ' \ ■> J 3 J jj > 3 , > ■, 3 S 3 3 3 \ LONDO.V : TRINTED BT WOOHFALL AND KINDER, MILFORD LA»E, STHASn, W.C. • • • * , • • • » * « • • • * • *• • « • * • « • ft c»« ' • PEEFACE. . 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, j;^ 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 2 in these novels. I was not then, still less am I now, dis- "", posed 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 -i 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 Vl PREFACE. objects with slight I'cgard for the consequences to others, and even less scmple as to the means. Any uniformity in good or evil would be the death blow to that genteel comedy which goes on around iis, and whose highest interest very often centres in the surprises we give ourselves by unexpected lines of action and uulooked-for impulses. As this strange drama unfolded itself before me, it had become a passion with me to watch the actors, and speculate on v.hat 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 splendour, from the crush of PEEFACE. vii 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 hard- ship 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 aflFection 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 VIU PREFACE. resisting either or both, when he could summon cournf^o for the effort. By what promptings the poor man was brought to imagine that a reign of terror would suffice to establish liim 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 aerents 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 accus- tomed, still less was there the thought that the Legisla- ture 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 PREFACE. ix 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 Parlia- ment, and I had a fervent belief in what kindness — when combined with knowledge of Ii-eland — 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 X PREFACE. tlio mode it was bostowcd. I have never read of a race who, in great poverty and many privations, attach a liij^'hcr value to the consideration that is bestowed on them, than to the actual material boons; and feci such a seem- ingly 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 tho 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 tlie poison reproduced itself and spread, the history of late years is the testimony. If such traits as I have endeavoured to picture in Mary Martin were engaged in the work of benevolence to- morrow, they would be met on every side by discourage- ment 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 PEEFACE. Xi tliem selves 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 thei'e 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 XU PREFACE. •witness ; nnU even to recall some of the incidents pass- ingly 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 mis- fortune. 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 wide- spread affliction could call up a humanity great as itself, and make very commonplace natures something actually heroic and gloi-ious. Nothing short of the fatal tendency I have to digres- sion, 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. PBEFACE. xiii If a nation is to be judged by her bearing under calamity, Ireland — and she has bad 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 pi'ayer, and that the time be not too far off. CHARLES LEVER. Trieste, 1872. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE Cro' Martin 1 Cn AFTER II. KiLKiKSAN Bat 16 CHxVPTER III. An Autumn IIokmng in ihe West 32 CHAPTER IV. Maurice Scanlan, Attorney- at-Law 40 CHAPTER V. A Studio and an Artist £0 Xvi CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. A Dasii op Tolitics 01 CHAPTER YII. A College Competitor 63 CHAPTER Vlir. Some Knotty Points that Pizzled Joe Nellioan ... 80 CHAPTER IX. The JIartin Arms 94 CHAPTER X. A Dinner- Party 106 CHAPTER XI. YoCSO NeLLICAK— AS iNTERrnETKD IN TWO AVavs . . ,119 CHAPTER XII. A Vtr.Y "Cj - r- •■■•tin" 133 CONTENTS. XVll CHArTEB, XIII. PAGE "i\ Housekeeper's Kooii" , . , . , . .146 CHAPTEE, XIV. A. Fine Old Ikisu Barrister ....... 150 CHAPTER XV. "A PvuiNED Foktuke" ITS CHAPTER XVI. ,"A Cuallenge" 107 CHAPTER XVII. A CuUNTRT-HoUSE "11 CHAPTER XVIII. Stateckaft 226 CHAPTER XIX. A Stupio 237 • • * XVIU CONTENTS. CriArTER XX. PACK An Election Ai>prkss iiJ3 CHAPTER XXI. As Awkward Visitor 270 CHArTER XXII. A Pat "After" 287 CHAPTER XXIII. A ClIARACTEUISTIC LETTER 299 CHAPTER XXIV. Three Coaches and their Company ..... 316 CHAPTER XXV. A COUSTRT ACCTIOS 323 CHAPTER XXVI. "Reverses" 342 CONTENTS. xix CHAPTER XXVII. PAGE Darkening Fortunes . . , 355 CHAPTER XXVIII. IL'W JIr. Scanlak Gives Scope to a Generous IjiruLSE . . 3G4 CHAPTER XXIX. A Sunday Morning at Cro' Martin ..... 376 » ^ 3 a a ' * THE MARTINS OF GRO' MARTIN. CHAPTER I. ORO' MARTIN. I AM about to speak of Ireland as it was some four-and- twenty years ago, and feel as if I wei'e referring to a long- past period of history, sucli have been the changes, politi- cal and social, eflTected 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 pi'e- fer rather to let the reader form his own unaided judgment on such matters, and will therefore without more of pre- face, 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 yoL. I, B 2 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. late autumn. Gradually, however, the scene becomes less dreary. Little patches of grass laud come into view, generally skirting some <>niall lake; and here are to be met with droves of t.'i-oiso wild Connemara ponies for which the district is so celebrated ; a stunted hardy race, with all tic eiiciorarce and counigo that beseem a moun- tain origin. Further on, the grateful sight of young timber meets the eye, and large enclosures of larch and spruce fir are seen on evciy favourable spot of ground. And at length, on winding round the base of a steep mountain, the deep woods of a inch 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 tra- versing 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 con-ectness, 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, dill'erent eras contributing the dillercnt styles of building, and present- ing 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, hut ibr daily use in rooms that showed continual liabitation. Some of the apartments displayed massive specimens of that richly-carved old oak furniture for which the chateaux of the Low Countries were famed j others abounded with inlaid consoles and costly tables of " mar- queterie," and others again exhibited that chaste white CRO' MARTIN. B and gold whicli characterized the splendid era of the Regency in France. Great jars of Sevres, 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 scupulous neatness of all these arangements, in the orderly air, the demui^e and respectful beariug 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 mai'ble hearth, had little brotherhood with the dreary dwellings of the cottiers beyond the walls of the park — and cer- tainly 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 court-yard 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 propor- tioned, 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, wliioh 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 abroad-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 grey- hound, who had reared himself to her side — a study for Landseer himself. Scarcely above a minute had clasped, when several servants were seen running towards her, B 2 4 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. 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 ? " "lie'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 tins 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, how- ever, and possessed the Scotch-like habits of prudent reserve, that never wasted a word in a bad cause. And thus he sud'ered himself to be soundl}' 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 brcakinji: under their weitrhb 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 liding-whiji — "you liave too few people in the garden ; but my remedy will be to lessen their number. Now mark me. My uncle is com- ing home on Wednesday next — just so — a lull month earlier than you expected — and if the garden be not iu perfect order — if I Hnd one of these things I have com- plained of to-day——-" " But, my leddy, this is the season when, what wi' sellin' the fruit, and what wi' the new shoots " ORO* MAETIN. 6 "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 hot- house 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 that 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 house- keeper's room. " May I never — but I thought it was a dream when I heard your voice outside," said old Catty, as she wel- comed her young mistress with heartfelt delight ; " but when I saw them runuin' here and ranniu' there, I said sure enough, she's come in earnest." "Quite true Catt}'," 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-humoured ; 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- coloured 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. 6 THE MARTINS OP ORO' MARTIN. " "Well, to mt/ thinking lie is far bcttcr-lookinp;' in tliat picture!" said ^lary, pointing' with her whip to a coloured drawing of a showily-dressed dragoon officer, reining in his charger, and seeming to eye with con- siderable 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 horse- man 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 sunburnt, 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 maj'hap, 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 didn't mean to come back ! ^fy lady and !^^aster 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 !Mar}'. " And why wouldn't he ? AVarn't they twins ? There was only a few minutes between them — long enough to make one a rich man ahd leave the other only his own wits CRO' MARTIN. and the wide woi'lil for a fortune ! Ayeh, ayeh ! " grumbled out the old crone, " if they Avere 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 com- panions, instead of his being away in Tngia, 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 p^-esence for some time. " Catty," said she, at length, and in a voice of unusually calm earnest- ness, " 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 1 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, gaily, " 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 ah'eady. The news soon spread that you came over this morning, and 3'ou'll have a great assembly." " I'll not keep them waiting, then," said Mary ; and, so saying, she left the room, and pi'oceeding 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 npon 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 busi- ness 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 8 THE mahtins of cro' mahtin. had Mary thrown theso witlo, than a burst of salutations and greetings arose from a dunsc 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 siie was standing. With true native volubility they poured out not only their welcomings, but a number of interjectional flat- teries, supposed not to be audible by her on whom tliey commented ; and thus her hair, her eyes, her teeth, her complexion, even her foot, were praised with an entliu- siasm 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 — pi-eparations all equally the source of fruitful observation. The company w^as 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 charac- teristic predominant over all — an intense and abject sub- mission, an almost slavish deference to every observa- tion addressed to them. Their dress bespoke the very gieate-st poverty ; not only were they clothed in rags of every hue and shape, but all were barefooted, and some of the very oldest wure no other covering to their heads than their own blanched and grizzled locks. Nor would a follower of Lavater have argued too favourably 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 indiirerence ; on tlio contrary, their faces were intensely, powerfully signifi- cant, and there was stumped upon them that strange mi.\turc of malignant drollery and sycophancy that no CRO' MARTIN. 9 amount of either good or adverse fortune ever entirely subdues in their complex natures. 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. AVho 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 fi'om one extreme to the other; nothing had any per- manency amongst them but their wretchedness. Of all their qualities, howevei', that which most obstructed their improvement, ate deepest into their natures, and sug- gested 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, liad 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, 10 Tnn MARTIN'S CF CRO' MARTIN. th.it none should speak save in answer to some qncstion put by herself. This may seem a very small matter, ami yet to any one wlio knowa the Irish jicasant it will appear little short of miraculous. The passion for discursiveness, the tendency to make an cO'cctivc theme of their miserj', wliatever particular shape it may assume, is essentially national, and to curb this vent to native eloquence was to oppose at once the sti'ongest impulse of their natures. Nothin!^ shoit of actual, tangible benefits could com- pensate them for what they scrupled not to think was downriglit 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 neighbours 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 restric- tion 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 dis- regarded the warning were ordered to move by, unattended to. Had a stranger been permitted, therefore, to take a peep at these pi-occedings, 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 soitow. Most of those w^ho 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, CRO' MARTIN. 11 came for ai'ticles of clotbiug, or for aid to malco 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 jo3^]ess existence. Amongst all the crowded mass, there was not one whom Maiy 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 wide-spread misery, she was sanguine enough to be encouraged by the results before her, small and few as they were, to tliink 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 Malonej^," 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," ci'ied 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 rayson 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 IMary, turning to a very feeble-looking old creature with crutches. "Worse and woi'se, my lady. With every change of the weather they come on afresh." 12 THE MARTINS OF CHO' MARTIN. "The doctor will nttcnd 3-011, Sally, and if ho thinks wine pood for you, you sliall have it." " 'Tis that same would be the savin' of me, Miss Mary," said a cunning-eyed little woman, with a tattered 8traw boimet on her head, and a ragged shawl over her. " I don't think s-o, Nancy. Come up to the house on Monday morning, and help Mrs. Taafe with the bleaching." " So this is the du])licate, Polly ? " f^aid she, taking a Bcrap of paper i'roni an old woman, whose couutenanco 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 com- plaining. " Were my uncle to know that you had pawned your cloak, Polly, he'd never permit you to cross his thres- hold." " Ayehjit's a great sin to be sure," whined out the hag, Lalf insolently'. *' A great shame and a gi'cat 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!"— "VVhat 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 llannigan." " Here, miss," simpered out a smiling, little old creature, with a curtsey, as she held up a scroll of paper in her hand. " What's this, Widow Hannigan ? " " 'Tis a pii.'turc ^Mickey made of you, miss, when j-oii 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 cla.'^s ; and here's a card lor your daughter's admission into the Inliimary. I3y the way, widow, which of the boys was it I saw dragging the river on Wed- nesday ? " ceo' maetin. 13 " 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." " Tei'esa 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 desti- tution 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 tliem how they caressed their afflictions, how they seemed to fondle their misfor- tunes, vieing with each other in calamity, and bidding higher and higher for a little human sympathy. Mary Martin set herself stoutly to combat this prac- tice, 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 favour 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 com- passion. No wonder was it, then, that she rejoiced wlien 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. 14 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 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 occupa- tion and employment, llcr intense sympathy with the people, her loudness for them even in tlieir prejudices, bad 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" — "iliss ]\Iartin will give her orders," were the invariable replies by which he escaped all trouble, and suHercd the whole weight of labour and responsibility to devolve ■upon a young girl scarcely out of her tccns, until gradu- ally, 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 gi'cat 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, tei-rifk'd 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, notwithstimding 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 indusCry, 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 CEO* MAKTIN. 15 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 esuberance 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 like to be thought active, clever, and ener- getic. She loved to hear the muttered voices which at any moment of difficulty said, " Fais, Miss Mary will find the way to it;" or, " Sure it won't baffie 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 liie, 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 16 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. wliat her mission had been, and showed how she had for a brief space thrown a gleam of sunshine over the dark- some gloom of some sad existence. "God bless her! she's always cheerful and light- lioarted," 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. Ix one of the many indentures of Kilkieran Bay — favoured 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 neighbouring gentry, who frequented the coast for sea-bathing. There was little attem])t made by the humble owners to accom- modate the habits of the wealthy visitors. Some slight effort at neatness, or some modest endeavour 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 backward- ness, it was said that the visitors were just as well satisfied. Many hoped to see the place as they remem- bered it in their own childhood — many were not sorrj"^ 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 KILKIEEAN BAT. 17 northern boundary of the little bay, stood one building of more pretension. It was a handsome bathing-lodge, with a long verandah 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 verandah. The sweeping gusts that sent foaming spray high over the rocky cliff's shattered the costly panes, and smashed even the raullions 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 ruin- ous-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 coiisistent 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 circum- stance ; 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 resem- blance to its water-coloured emblem in the plan of the architect; for Mr. Kii-k had not only improvised a beau- tiful villa, with fachsias 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, VOL. I. C 18 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. and revels in tho license of his art with a most voluptuous abaudonnicnt. It was now, however, lato in the autumn ; some warn- ings of the approaching equinox Imd already been felt, and the leaden sky above, and the dark-green, sullen pca beneath, above which a cold north-wester swept gustily, recalled but little of the artistic resemblance. The short September day was drawing to a close, and it was just that dreaiy 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 bumble 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 neighbourhood ; but as the summer wore over, their places were occupied by a kind of "hall-price company" — shopkeepers and smart resi- dents of Oughterard, who waited for their pleasure till it could be obtained economicall}-. 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 !Mr3. 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 ^laher every Sunday at dinner, and took in the Galway I/itellir/ence, which, it is but fair to say, was, from inverted letters and press blunders, about as diflficult read- ing as any elderly lady ever confronted. Mrs. Cronan was eminently gentc>el — 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 bodil}' 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 KILKIERAN BAY. 19 to bathe, but never able to summon com-ago to go in. Ho •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 curtseyed 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 shop- keeper 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 ]S"elligan was a tall, pale young fellow, who, though only just passed twenty-two, looked several years older ; the serious, thoughtful espi-ession 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 fore- head 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 intona- tion 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 convei'sation, and only when roused by some theme that lie cared for, or stimulated by some assertion C 2 20 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. tliiit lie iL'sscntod from, was lio heard to burst forlli into a rapid ilow of words — uttered as thouj^li under the impulse of passion, and of which, when ended, he seemed actually to feel ashamed himself. He was uo favourite with the society of Kilkicran ; some thought him downright stupid ; others regarded him as a kind of spy upon his neighbours — an imputation most lavishly thrown out in every circle where there is nothing to detect, and where all the absurdity lies palpable OR 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 Nelligau's son." If he never courted their companionship, he as little resented their estrangement from him. lie 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 theni 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 examina- tion ; for equally in science as in classics was he distin- guished, 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 him.self in his obscurity, and pleading the necessity for study. At length came the ci'owning act of his College career, in the examination for the gold medal, and although no com- petitor was bold enough to dispute the prize with him, he KILKIEKAN BAY. 21 was obliged to submit to the ordeal. It is rarely that the public vouchsafes any interest in the details of University honours ; but this case proved an exception, and almost every journal of the capital alluded in terms of high pane- gyric to the splendid display he made on that occasion. In the very midst of these triumphs, young Nellio-an arrived at his father's house in Oughterard, to enjoy the gratification his success had diffused at home, and rest himself after his severe labours. Little as old Pat Nel- ligan or his neighbours knew of University honours, 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 nono could hold a candle to him ; " that for nigh a century such answei'ing had not been heard on the bench." This was the expression of a Dublin journal, coupled with the par- tisan 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 gaieties and dissipations of a small country town existence. The fulsome adula- tion 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 sea-side. 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 didn't care for books, even those of the most amusiug kind, but she loved to hear the little gossip of the place where the neighbours passed the evening ; what topics they dis- 22 THE MARTINS 01' CRO' MARTIN. cussed ; •who had left and who had arrived, and every otlier little incident of their uncventl'ul lives. Simple and easy of execution as such an oflico might have been to a kindred spirit, to Joseph Nelligan it proved no common labour. And certain it is that the mistakes he committed in names, and the blunders ho 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 ho 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 furni- ture, the combatants had established themselves. The success of an evening party is not always propor- tionate 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 he 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 sup- posed to damage those who arc 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 impres- KILKIEEAN BAT. 23 sion seemed to prevail, that in the several points of climate, scenery, social advantages, and amusements, Kilkieran might stand a favourable comparison with the first water- ing-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 decla- ration 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 deplox'o 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 elo- quently 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 diff'er 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 inti- mately 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 lad}', with one eye. " Tes, Mrs. Few, in the old brown riding-habit. She 24 THE ?r.vr.TiNS of cro* mahtiij. came up to the table, with a saucy laugh in her face, and said, * Why, uucle, are you proing to give a fancy ball ? ' " ' It is the last arrival from Paris, miss,' said I, ' the Orleans mantle, which, tliough not a " costume de Chasse," is accounted very becoming.' "'Ah, you're laughing afc my old habit, Miss Busk,* said she, seeing how I eyed her ; ' and it really is very shabby, but 1 intend to give Dan Lcary a commission to replace it one of these days.' " " Dan Learv, of the Cross-roads ! " exclaimed Captain Bodkin, laughing. " I pledge you my word of honour, sir, she said it. *xVnd as to all this finer}'-, Miss Busk,' said he, turning over the plates with her whip, 'it would be quite unsuit- able 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 hnlf naked ! ' " " Positively indecent — downright indelicate ! " shud- dered 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 !^[r. 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-peeked creatures that wasn'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 w'.iat he was when a boy, if any one rules him," said the Captain. " I was at scliool with him and his twin-brother Barry ; I remem- ber 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 weren'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 KILKIERAN BAY. 25 for his brotliev any day. I remember once when Godfrey wouldn't fight a boy — I forget what it was about — Barry stole the bit of ribbon out of his coat, and went np 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 lie certainly wasn't your friend when you tried for the I'ever Hospital." " That was because Pat ISTelligan 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 astonish- ment 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 sec- tions, 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 liis anxiety for information, the slightest kuowlcdge on the subject discussed. Atten- tion 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 I'ushed 26 THE MARTINS OP CRO* MARTIN. to the doov to see what it meant. A swooping gust of wind and rain, over turning cluiirs and cxtinguisliing candles, drove thcin suddenly back again ; and, halt" 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 ]\Irs. 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 wasn'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 wouldn't be her horse!" said one — " Nor her groom ! " muttered another; and ihus, gradually lashing themselves into a wild indignation, they opened at last a steady lire 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 favour of her horseman.ship 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 Nelligau 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 ex- cursions which no young lady had ever made before ; dis- tant 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 Uusk styled it — " a proper sense of the dignity of womnn ! " " 'Twas 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, KILKIERAN BAY, 27 without knowing in tlie 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 neighbours, 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 suc- cesses, he had totally overlooked the disparagement men exhibited towards the sou 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 uupurpose-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 neighbour 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 difiicult 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 28 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. expect from liim. Of the fortunes of the whist-tablc he actually knew iintliiii TUE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN, CHAPTER X. A DINNER-PARTV. Peoplk wlio 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 difliculty ; but it imparted such a piquancy to his " adventure," as he persisted in calling it to himself, that be wouldn'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 im- patiently, 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 un- scathed ; and it was easy to see in the constraint and reserve of all present, how little his appearance contri- buted 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 Priorj', downright melancholy. ^lassingbred 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 A DINNER-PARTY. 107 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 whisky-punch made its appearance, and the bottle of port was passed up beside the stranger, Massing- bred 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, sli\ 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 ganger." " That's not a very English sentiment, sir," said the Priest, slily. " I don't know whether it be or not," rejoined Massing- bred ; " 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 shouldn't boil your potatoes in Ireland, but eat them fried — or that you shouldn'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 potatoe and water is their diet," said old Hayes, as he sipped his punch. 108 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. *' I can believe it well," said Llassiu^brecl, 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 indillerent to them ? " " They are indillerent 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 sec, sir, in the destitution of Ireland another rivet in the chains of her bondage. As my 'august leader' re- marked, it's the rust on the fetters, though — and if it proclaims the length of the captivity, it suggests the hope of freedom." " Mr. iMagennis is the dearest friend and trusty agent of Mr. O'Connell," said Nelligan in a whisper to !Massing- bred. " Here's his health, whoever said that I " cried Jack, enthusiastically, and as if not hearing the host's obser- vation. " That's a toast ; we'll all drink— and standing, too," exclaimed Magcnnis. " ' Daniel O'Connell, gentlemen hip, hip, hurra!'" And the room rang again with the hearty acclamations of the compan}-. "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 favour of the measure then, sir?" said Father Neal, with a bland smile that might mean satisfac- tion or suspicion. " I was always an Emancipationist ; but I am little .satisfied with the terms on which the bill has been passed. I'd liavo 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 DINNER-PARTY. 109 a shabby compromise ! What disabilities should apply to any of us here, in regard to any post or position iu 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 peixeive is," — and he bowed to Father Eafferty — "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 or 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 mj family, I have not the honour 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 favourite in Ireland ; and shall I own to you, till I came to this country myself, I half believed that this same humble opinion of ris 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 specialities. 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 110 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MARTIN. best scholar tlio University hail seen for a full century ; nud shall I add, as unpn-tt-nding and as modest in the midst of all his triumphs as ho 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 bei'oro 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 Kelligan.'" 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 oflf in grateful cheers to their host his own hospitable reception of them. As for Nelligan himself, he was sincerely, deeply aflected ; and, though he twice essayed to speak, ho could get no further than " My son Joe " — " my boy " — and sat down mur- muring — "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 moun- tains. 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 tliere myself," whispered Father Neal, " if you'll finish the week at the 'Ilookery ' — that's what they call the Priest's house." Massingbred accepted eyerything, and shook hands across the tabic in ratification of half a dozen engage- ments. "You don't think I'll let you cheat me out of my guest 60 easily," said Nelligan. " No, gentlemen. This must A DINNER-PARTY, 111 be Mr. Massingbred's head-quarters as long as be stays here, for, faith, I'd not give him up to Mr. Martin himself." " And who may be be ? " asked Jack. ''Martin of Cro' Martin." " The owner of half the county." " Of tbe 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 astonish- ing accounts of the splendour of the furnitui'e and the magnificence of the whole estalilishment." " 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," s aid the Priest ; " and though she hasn't a good 112 THE MARTIN'S OF CRO MARTIN, ]c<' amongst tho four, and is touched in tlio wind, she's as neut a stepper, and as easy in the mouth as a five-year old." " She's a fine younj^ woman ! " said old Hayes, drinking ofT his glass as thougli 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 Ncal. "But her pride isn't tho common kind." " She's as proud as Lucifer! " broke in Nelligan, almost angrily. " l)id you ever see her drive up to a shop-door in this town, and make tho people come out to servo her, pointing with her whip to this, that, and t'other, and maybe giving a touch of the lash to the boy if he wouldn't be lively enough?" "Well, I'd never call her proud," rejoined old Hayes, "after seeing her sitting in Catty Houan's cabin, and turning the bread on tho griddle for her, when Catty was ill." " Is she handsome ? " asked Massingbred, who was rather interested by tho very discrepancy in the estimato of the young lady. "We can agree upon that, I believe, sir," said tho 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 Massingiired. " Docs 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 tho whole estate," said Nelligan ; "her nncle'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 harbours ; has all the new-fangled inventions about farming, and, if A DINNEK-PAETY. 113 what I hear be true, is spending more money on the projDerty 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 slie 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-humouredly took part. " Well, she's good to the poor, an}' how," 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 becom- ing obliterated in this country, by reason of their worth- lessness, 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 com- pensate 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. VOL. I. I 1 1 1 THE MAETIN8 OP CRO' MAHTIN. " I am fond of ' The erecting of the Waters,* sir," said Hayes, meekly, aud liko a mau who was confessing to a weakness. " And here's tlic man to sing it ! " cried Bricrley, clap- ping the Priest familiarly on the shoulder ; a proposal that was at onco hailed with acclamation. " 'Tis many a long day I haven'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 Bi-ierley, "'To Ladiss' eyes around, boys,' — eh, Father Raflerty ? " " That's my favourite of all the songs he sings," broko 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. 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 Brierlcy 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 diin])le3 and the devil knows what? " '* Another tumbler, ^Ir. Massingbred — one more ? " said the host, with the air, however, of one who did not exact compliance. " Not for tho 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 A DINNER-PARTY. 115 perceived brong-lit fortli, 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, oi^ening a door into au 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 Ilelligan, " 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 JSTelligan," said the Priest, confidentially, " talents won't do everything, now-a-da^-s, without high connections ; mark my words, and see if that young man doesn'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 — " jDlenty of brass. Ay, Dan, if Joe could bori'ow a little of his friend's impudence, it would be tell- ing 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 morninsr." "IS^o 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 ' Gan^ius ' yet that wasn't the ruin of all belonging to him I And whenever I see a young fellow that knows no i2 IIG THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIK. trade, nor lias any livelihood — who's always borrowinpf here, and be<,'giug 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. " 1 spoke of real ability, ster- ling powers of mind and thought, and I hope that they are not to be despised." "Like my 'august leader's! '" said ]\Iagcnnis, proudly. " Ay, or like that young gentleman's there," said Father Ncal, 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 beseemed to be discussing them ! Take my word for it, gentlemen, he'll do ! " " lie doesn'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 Avas sure to have weight. " He'll do ! " said Father Ncal 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 Pm 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, dictatoriallv. A DINNER-PARTY. 117 '' "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 Brierloy, 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 diver- sion. " We are now discussing politics — grave questions of state, sir," said Father IS'eal — " 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 XelHgan. *' 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 Oughterai'd 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 murmux'ed around the board. 118 THE MATlTHs'S OF CKo' MARTIN. " It would bo a preat strupp^lc," muttered Nelligan. "And a gvtat victory ! " said the Priest. " What a deal of money, ^oo, it would cost! " "You have the money, Dan Nelligan ; and let me tell you one thing " — here he leaned over his chair and whis- pered some Avords in the other's ear. Old Nclligan's face flushed as he listened, and his eyes sparkled with intense excitement. " If I thought that—\i 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, ho saw in tho embarrassed and conscious looks around that he had him- self been the object of their discussion, and with tho same shrewdness ho detected their favourable 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. 119 CHAPTER XT. TOTTNO NELIIQAN — AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WATS. " 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 lady- ship. " 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 favourable first impres- sion." " 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 ; doesn'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 con- versation, sir. There is no necessity to open the window when the look-out is a dreary one." I'lO THE MARTINS OF CHO' MAKTIN. ^fartin made uo reply, and a pause of some moments cnsiu'd. " What arrniif^cmcnt did you come to with liim about his party in the borough?" said she at last. " I didn't even allude to the topic," replied ho, half testily. " These things are not to be done in that hasty fasliion ; they require management, discretion, and a fittiuGT opportunity, too." '• Wl.'y, you talk of your grocer's boy as if he were a Cabinet ^linistcr, ^Ir. Martin ; you treat him like a groat 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 ^lartin ; " he figures in a pretty long categor)'." "And why should he not, sir? AVhat 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 ere long you and Miss Martin will spoil him.'' "I! aunt ?" said ^lary, 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 ^lartin, — the most flattering compliment to one in his station." YOUNG NELLIGAN. 121 "If lie bears Collegiate honours 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 Doi'othea, haughtily; " and as to College honours," 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, iu 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 freMige !'" " But they soon would," said Mary, " if they feared to enter the lists against those less well-born than them- selves." " 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." " Thei'e 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, 122 Tnr. martixs or cno' mahttn. nrnl tells ns, besides, how inferior were tho nobles of that country in tho day of struj^'rrlc." " Upon my word, these are very pretty notions, young lady. Have they been derived from the intelligent columns of the Gahcai/ Monitor, or arc they tho teachings of the gifted Mr. Scanlau? 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 tho 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 wc are not English, uncle," said Mary, with something that smacked of pride. " Confess it: we have 3ur nationality, and that our people have traits of their jwn " 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 honour." "I have read of all these things; but my own experi- ences are limited to tho 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 civiliza- tion 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. YOUNG NELLIGAN. 123 "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 wc«"k 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 over-anxious for a iete-a-tete 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 «—— " 124 THE JLVnTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. " Tho notion of learning from me is perfect," said Mary, intcrruptiufj; him witli a pleasant laugh. "Why, Mr. Nelligan, I never could he taught anything, even of tho most ordinary rules of ceremonial life ! though," added she, slily, " I have lived certainly in the midst of great oppottunitics." "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 miscon- ception. When your uncle spoke to me, last night, about the division of parties in the borough You are smiling again, ^liss Martin ! " " Don't you perceive, sir, that what amuses me is the mistaken estimate you have formed of me, by addressing rac 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 tliat 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 como to talk of privileges and legislative benefits, 1 know nothing of tliera ; they form a land of whose very geography I am ignorant." " But the subject is the same, and the mind which com- prehends one, could embrace the other." " In the one, however, I can labour usefully and fittingly, without much risk of mistake — never, indeed, of any mistake that might prove of serious moment. The TOUNG NELLIGAN. 125 other involves great questions, and has great hazards, perils, to affright stronger heads than mine ! " " There is much in what you say," said he, reflect- " 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 an 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 oflp 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 Nelligau 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 respon- sible " 126 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. '• Not for anytliiiig, except your pledge to dine hero to- morrow fit seven." Notwithstuudiiig all the ease and frankness of Martin's manner — and as manner it was perfect — the young man felt far from satisfied. Ilia 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 tlie object of his visit. lie 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." Nclligan 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 ? "Arc 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 indiflereuce for an inferior?" And, far more puzzled than he should have been with the knottiest problem of the " Pi-incipia," he quitted the house and strolled homewards. He was 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 almanack, the close of the bathing season. The scene then going forward was one of unusual and not un])icturesque confusion. It was a general break-up of the encampment, and all were prepai'ing 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. Con- veyances the most cumbrous and most rickety, drawn by farm horses, or even donkeys, stopped the way before each YOUNG NELLIGAN. 127 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 w^ard- robe, 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, birdcages, 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 momeut, 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- humour 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 humour 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 neighbours. 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 back- gammon-table, with a portentous-looking cap-case in her lap. 123 TUE MAIITINB OF CRO* MAUTIN, " My mother will bo sorry not to have seen you before you went away, ^Irs Cronnn," said ho to that lady, whoso dcnmrc and frigid demeanour made the speech sound like a bold one. " I'd have loft 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 wc re- main," resumed Joe, conscious of some awkwardness, •without knowing where or liow. " Not with the society of your distinguished acquain- tances at ' Tlie Nest,' sir!" the sarcastic impoi't of which reply was more in the manner than the mere words; Avhile the old Captain murmured : " Begad, she gave it to him there — a regular double- headed shot I" " 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-humouredly, as he stepped out of the wa}-. " 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 ! " YOUNG NELLiGAH. 129 And the success of this sally was acknowledged by a general laugh from the company. The tone of the speakers, even nioi'e 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 hia 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 difficul- ties of a position to which his earlj^ successes imparted increasing embarrassment ; and darkly brooding over these things, he drew near his mothei''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 j^our 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. VOL. I. K 130 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. " And who can it bo ?" said she again. *' Some of tlic townspeople, of course," said he, care- lessly. *• No, no, Joe ; it must bo a stranger. Maybe, it's Morgan Drake, his aunt expected him back from Jamaica before Christmas. Or it's Corny Dwyer's come homo from Africa ; you know he went on the deploring expedi- tion " " Exploring, mother ! exploring." " Well, ex2)loring or deploring, it's all the same. Ho 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 >:rowu 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. Isn't she a fine young woman, Joe ?" " Itemarkably 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 oi* 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 ?" eaid Joe, with emotion. YOUNG NELLIGAN. 131 " Dou't you see I haven'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 " "Who? Catty?" " 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. Nelli- gan, 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 anothei', 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 132 TUB MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. Ijcst of it ; and euro it's all a lottery what temper he's in, and liow he'll take it. I rcmombcr whon they ])ut the new duty on what was it, Joe ? I think it was hides- " " Not (lie least matter, mother ; you've only to say that Mr. Martin has been kind enough to show me some atten- tions, and that I am silly enough — if you like to say so — to prefer them to the festive pleasures of Oughterard. la 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 fasliion." :Mrs. Nelligan shook her head mournfully over these signs of rebellion, and muttering many a gloomy fore- boding, she went off to her room to make her preparations for the journey. 133 CHAPTER XII. A VERT " CROSS EXAMINATION." The morning was bright and sunny, tlae 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 colour, 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, unremarkiug indiffer- ence 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 tave 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 134 THE MARTINS OP CRO MARTIN. as half homngo the eulogy of what was hers. Nono such was, however, there; and so they journeyed along, as seemingly unconscious as though the scene were wrapt 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 sliade; but he himself had grown older too, and his sense of enjoyment, dulled and deadened Avith years, saw nothing in tlic scene to awaken pleasure. As for Lady Dorothea, she had reasoned her- self into the notion tliat the walls of her own grounds were the boundaries of a prison, and had long con- vinced 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?" Baid 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 A V'ERY "cross EXAMINATION." 135 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 ? Haven't they digging and draining, and whatever it is, to do of their own? Must they of necessity depend on us for support, and I'equire 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 tliemselves to repair the broken harness, and others were levelHng the road, carrying stones to fill up holes, and in every possible manner endeavouring 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 destitu. tion 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 ordei', 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 antago- nized by as vigorous struggles to move the fore ones. Every one shouted, cried, cursed, and laughed, by turns, 13G TMi: MAKTINS OF CHO' MARTIN. and a more hopeless scene of confusion and uproar need nut bo conceived. Nor was Jj;uly Dorothea herself au inactive spectator ; for, with her head from the carriage- window, she directed a hundred impossible measurcB, and Bat down at last, overcomo 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 Murtiu came galloping up to the spot at full speed. "Let go that bridle, llogan," 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 marc, 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, tho 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 sliarply 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, iu less than ten minutes the dilliculty was surmounted, tho horses reharnessed, and all in readiness to proceed on their way. J^lartin 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. " AVhatever ministered to her selfishness, even in the remotest degree, was grateful to her. Mary's opportune arrival had now converted what A VERY "cross examination." 137 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, drily. " 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 i 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 ai-e 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 138 THE MARTINS OF CHO' MARTIN. noticing tho bowing scrvnnts who had formed into a lino along the hall, and who endeavoured to throw into their sorrowful faces as much of joy as might consist with tho very deepest humility. Nor was she more condescending to old Catty, who stood curtseying 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 ])laco feels ! Collins, arc you sure tho rooms arc properly aired ? " cried she, shuddering. " But I suppose it's tho climate. Have another stovo 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 tit badly, for I feci the draft acutely here. It's like the keen air of a mountain ;" and Collins gave a slight spnpathetic 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 build- ing, and from this circumstance, included within its pre- cints an octagonal tower, tho view from which comprised every varied character of landscape. This favoured 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 Benvcnuto, that had been discovered accidentally, and which, despite the emulous zeal of Princes and Cardinals to obtain, was destined for herself. A VERY "cross EXAMINATION.'* 139 Now, it was some choice mosaic, of whicli but one other specimen existed, and that in the Pope's private collection at the Quirinal. Such was her ardour 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 favour 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, preceived a female figure seated in front of one of the windows, camly regarding the landscape. With a degree of noise and bustle sufficient to announce her approach, Lady Dorothea entered the tower; while the stranger, rising, refilled one step, and curtseyed 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 hei-e. 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 ? " 140 THE MARTIKS OF CRO' MARTIN. " Yes, my latly," sbo replied, with a slight bend of tho bead. " 1 pent for you," said Lady Dorothea, in a half care- less tone, while she turned over some books on the table, as if in search of something — " I sent for you, partly at tho request of your niotlicr " " ^ly stepmother, my lady," interposed the girl, calmly. Lndy 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 tho 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 bo owned, none could have borne with more unshaken forti- tude, not tho slightest tremor of a limb, not the faintest change of colour, betokening that the ordeal was a pain- ful one. " I do see that you have been educated in France," said her ladyship, with a smile of most supercilious import, while a curtsey from the young girl admitted the fact. " Were you brought up in Paris?" asked she,after apause. " 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? Pleaso to bear in mind that I know nothing of your history ? " "I forgot that, my lady. I though my stepmother had, perhaps, informed your ladyship." " Of nothing whatever, child," said she, haughtily, " save of your liaving a foreign education, and wisliing, 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 explaia who ' i':e ' were." " The Duchesse de Luygnes and her family, my lady." "You travelled with them— and in what capacity, pray?" ^ ^ A VEEY " CROSS EXAMINATION.'* 14l ** 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 Prin- cess, 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 your- self properly and to her satisfaction. A person of her condition would be kind ; but I trust this did not pro- ceed 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 fete 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 112 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. I said before, tbcy have done you iri'C2)arablc injury. You must feel it yourself." A very laiut smile, half in deprecation of tho appeal, was the only reply of tho young girl. "You are certain to feel it later on in life, if you aro not sensible of it at present, that I can vouch for, young woman," said Lady Dorothea, with all tho firmness with which she could utter an unpleasant speech. "Nothing but unhappincss ever resulted from such ill-judged indul- gence. Indeed, if your mother had mentioned the circum- stances, I scarcely think I should have sent for yon " — 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 bo 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 ungener- ous sentiment. With au efi'ort 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 dietatorially — " 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, ray 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 over- whelmed with shame, or betrayed into any access of temper, her ladyship's manner would have presented a A VERY "CEOSS EXAMINATION." 143 pattei'n of haughty dignity and gracefuhiess, 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 : bat deference so self-possessed, so assured of its own safe- guard, 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 dis- appointment, and the young gii'l received it with only a deep curtsey. "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 curtsey 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 manned a Russian, I think." "Ko, my lady; she married the Due 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, nay 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 j-ou to great perils. I'm sure you are not of my opinion, for, distrust of yourself does not appear one of 144 THE MAUTINS OF CKO* WAUTIN. your failings." — It is possible tliut this uiigcnorous remark ■was evoked by a very sUfrht curl of the yount^ pirl's lip, auJ which, Taint as it was, did not escape her ladyship's keen glances. — " Good morning." Again had ^lis.s Henderson gained the door; her hand was already on the lock, when her ladyship called out: "In the event of anything occurring to mo 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 snceringly. " 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." f " Why, you are quite an Admirable Crichton for acquire- ment. 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 quan'ies; 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 A VERY " CEOSS EXAMINATION." 145 might seem dictated by tlie 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 base- ness 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 ardour 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, Avith a respectful curtsey, the girl with- drew, leaving her ladyship Lo her own somewhat compli- cated 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 dlieure Avhen miladi goes to her room with an air of such triumphant meaning as that." TOL. I. 146 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. CHAPTER XIII. "a housekeeper's room." Cro' Mat^tin was replete with every comfort and luxury. All its arrangements betokened wealth ; not a single appliance of case or enjoyment but was to bo found with- in 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 homo 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 man- hood, 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 fire-place of gigantic dimensions, looked the very Bccne where hospitable conviviality might be enacted ; the library, calm, quiet, and secluded, seemed a spot wherein a student might have passed .a lifelong. 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 ? — *'a housekeeper's room.** 147 wliere is the social pleasantry that circles the blazing fire of the ample hearth ? Alas ! all was sombre, splendid, and dreary. No, Ave 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 theij deemed lier morose and dis- agreeable ; slie., in turn, held tliem still more cheajjly, 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 L 2 149 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. explanation will show that Catry's comparative isolation was not entirely a matter of clioicc. If a sense of loneli- ness (lid now and then eross her mind, she never sutlercd 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 InieUigcncc — a journal which realized to IMrs. 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. Hynea got for his " top lot " of hoggets, and what Tom llcaley 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 JnteUifjence 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 liyan was hanged, or " the very Christmas that Hogan fired at Captain Crosslcy." An inundation of great extent also figured in tliese 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 plash- ing 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 tlic bright hearth, while she read of '• a dreadful gale in the B.iy of Biscay." (f A n/-lTTCJ-CT7"I7TPT)'dT>'cl T^rsniT " A HOUSEKEEPER S ROOM." 149 It was just in the most exciting portion of the descrip- tion 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 slippei's — 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 througli everything, and I don't think I took forty minutes from Kane's Mill to this door, though I never saw a spot of 160 TUE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. the road all tho 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 tho teapot, and fetch me your brown loaf! " " IJut 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 annt will have such a laugh at my engineering skill, when she hears of it. Can't bo helped, however. And so there's a dinner-party upstairs, I hear. Fanny told mo 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 sec 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 ? " " Isn'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 snufif and sugar in a snug shop. Ayeh ! he's an old niggar, 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 haven't told me who the lady is. llow 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 tor-ment me into asking who for? — butl w^ouldn't, just for that same; and so I gave him tho keys without a word." **A HOUSEKEEPERS EOOM. 151 *' 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 mannei', however, soon gave way to an expression of considerable eagerness, and she had no sooner finished the epistle than she recommenced and re-read 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 interpreta- tion." "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 152 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. these imapfinin^^s. The object of tlio note is, I assure you, of a quite difVeri-nt kind ; " nnd hero slie ran her eye onco 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 mo that 1 am to have a pfoverness!" " A what ! " cried Catty, in angry amazement. ** A governess, Catty — not a governor, as you sus- pected." "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 I No one knows — no one even could guess — how deeply I have deplored my illiterate con- dition. 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 isn'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 over-estimate." 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 *' A housekeeper's ROOjI." 153 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 labour 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, indig- nantly ; " 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, tliey are used to me, and 1 to iliem. 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-heai-ted about this, and whenever it crosses me I do feel very low and depressed." She paused, and then murmured the words, " My father !" " Tour father, my darling ! What about himV^ *' 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 154 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. ])i-ayor ; and yet, even this bright prospect has its dark bilk', wlien 1 recall nil my own deficiencies, and liow dillerent ho will liud his daughter from, what he had cxj)ccted her." " May the blessed saints grant me patience ! " cried Catty, breaking in. " Isn't it too bad to hear you talking thi.s way? Sure, don't I know Master Barry welli' 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 diU'ercnt indeed ho 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 havo 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 woi-ld 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 ono 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 ^1 \ ** A HOUSEKEEPER S ROOM. 155 Lettermuilen 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 wasn'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 day-dreams 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 ardour 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 150 THE MARTINS OF CRO' JIARTIN. brothers would do it. ^ATnybo there's not another living but himself would havi* done it." " And what was it, Catty ? " asked Mary, boldly. " Eh! — what was I saying', darling? " said Catty, rous- ing herself to full consciousness. " You were telling of my father, and some great proof of aflection 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 nie any more about them things, darling. 'Tis 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 ?«e." " 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 evi- dently 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." liut 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. t< A TT,^TTOT:'T.'T:.-OT,7:iT.»f1 T^rsr.^T »♦ A HOUSEKEEPER S ROOM. ' 157 " Xor is my habit the fresher of its bath in the ' Red Eiver ; ' 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, gaily, " and so I'll just go to bed and, if I can, dream plea- santly." " 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 nigfh forsrettino- 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 spoilt me.' Now, good night." And kissing the old woman affectionately, Mary gathered up the stray fragments of her idding gear, and hurried away, her merry voice heard cheerfully as she wended her waj^ up many a stair and gallery to her own chamber. If Mary Martin's character had any one quality pre- eminently remarkable, it was the absence of everything like distrust and suspicion. Frankness and candour itself in all her dealings, she never condescended to impute secret motives to another ; and the very thought of anj-- thing like mystery was absolutely repugnant 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 con- cerned in it; so much was clear. How could she con- vince the old woman that no revelation, however dis- agreeable 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 mysteiy about me in any way?" The very imagination of such a thing was agony. h\ vain she tried to chase away the unwel- come thought, by singing as she went, by thinking over 158 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. plans for the morrow, by noting down, as slie 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 bo at rest. To a day of great excitement and fatigue now succeeded a sleepless, feverish night, and morning broke on her unrefrcshed, and even ill. 159 CHAPTER XIV. A FINE OLD IBISH BARRISTER. Can any one tell us what has become of that high conver- sational 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 convivialists gone and disappeared for ever? Or are we only enduring an interregnum of dalness, 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 Par- liament 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 labo- rious paths of the law, and thus the wit, the brilliancy, and the readiness which gives conversation its charm, obtained, the high culture Avhich comes of a learned pro- fession, 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, dis- pirited, and depressed ; some felt that a new and very diff'erent career was to open before them, and addressed themselves to the task of confoi'ming to new habits and acquiriugnew 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 ideally compre- hensive sense — ceased to exist. The great interests of a nation departed, men sank to the level of the small topics IGO THE MARTINS OF CRO' M.VRTIN. that cnrjapcd them, nnil graclually 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 oiicc made companionship witli Curran, and Grattan,and Lysaght, and Parsons, were still in good health and vigour. A fine, high-hearted, mauly class they were, full of that peculiar generosity of character •which lias ever marked the true Irish gentleman, and with a, readiness in huinour and a genial (low of pleasantry which rendered their society delightful. Of this school — and ])robably the last, for he was then the Father of the Uar — was Valentine Rei:»ton, a man whoso 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, Lad 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 stuH-gown, and rose to address the Court from the outer benclic.s. 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 llevolution had, however, been gradually toned down in him b}- time, and probably by a very aristoci'atic contempt for the party Avho advocated them; so that soon after ho entered ou 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 approacliing seventy, he was hale and vigorous, his grey 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 JJar he still maintained tho very highest place. His powers of cross-examination were very great ; his management of a jury unrivalled. A FINE OLD lEISH BARRISTER. 161 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 favourite 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 unques- tionably a clever man. The aptitude to chime in with the tone of others infers a high order of humour — of humour in its real sense — meaning thereby the fiicnlty of appre- ciating, and even cultivating, the individual peculiarities of those around him, and deriving from their display a high order of pleasui-e. From these scattered traits let my reader conjure up Valentine Eepton before him, and imagine the bustling, VOL. I. M 102 THE MAnTTXS OF CIlO* MABTTN. active, find hrisk-lookinp^ old gentleman, whose fidgetlneas nearly drove ^lartin 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, Rcpton seemed the incarnation of uneasiness. "Very splendid — very grand — very sumptuous — no doubt," said ho, ranging his eyes over the gorgeous deco- rations of the spacious apartment, " but would kill mo 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, whore's your neighbourhood — where are your gentry friends?" " Cosby Blake, of Swainestown, is abroad," said ^lartin, 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 tliis is sheer waste — so much good money actually thrown into Lough Coi'rib ? 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 largo tract perfectly barren and unpro- ductive." "And the harbour — the pier I saw yesterday ? " A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 163 " 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 when- ever you vouchsafe me an audience," said the lawyer, sharply. " Ifc 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 secre- tary 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 peroratiou, ' 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. M 2 1G4 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. ' There is no denying one word the gentleman has said, I came up that way from circuit tlirco weeks ago, and was beset in the same spot, and in the same manner as wo liave just h<.ard. 1 can't attempt such a description as Mr. Mnr.i - has given us, but 1 will say that there was not a h^man deformity or defect that didn't appear to have its representative in that ragged gathering, all clamorous and eager for aid. I looked at them for a while in wonder- ment, 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 lie 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 couldn't help it." " Ple'll not make you a chief justice, Eepton," said ^Martin, slily. " I'll take care he don't," said the other. " Summumjus 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 now-a-daye. By the way, who is the young fellow who dined with us yesterday ? " " His name is Nelligan ; the son of one of our Oughterard neighbours." " Pleasing manners, gentle, too, and observant," said Repton, with tho 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 towi)." A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 165 " I think somebody did speak of liim to me — recommend him, in some shape or other," said Repton, absti-actedly — " these things are so easily forgotten ; for, to say the truth, I hold very cheajDly all intellectual efforts accomplished by great preparation. The cramming, the grinding, the plod- ding, 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 unpre- pared, 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 enjoy- ment, 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, isn't it ? " "Nelligan." *• To be sure. I'll remember poor Curran's epigram : — *' Oh, pity poor Tom Neliigan ! 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 couldn'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 evei^ythiug 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, 1G6 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. when I give you in charge to my uiece. She'll bo but too happy to do the honours of our poor country to so distinguished a visitor." " And a very artful plan to put me in good humour with everything," said Hepton, laughing. " Well, I con- sent. I oiler myself a willing victim to any amount of seduction. How arc we to go? — do we drive, walk, or ride?" "If Mary be consulted, she'll say ride," said Martin; "but perhaps " " I'm lor 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 tho 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, Moll}', 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 Alary Martin to display anything either of impatience or opposition to her uncle. Her afiection 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 A FINE OLD IRISH BAERISTER. 167 it out on Mr. Henderson — that precious specimen of his class. Let Mr. Nelligan perform cicerone, or persuade my lady to drive bim 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, pettishK' — " 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 arrange- ment 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 con-ect copy of the coloured prints of those worthies who figured in the early years of George the Third's reign — a grey cloth spencer being drawn over his coat, fur-collared and cuffed, high riding-boots of black polished leathei', 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 linendrapers or ambitious hardwaremen, and the tone of the field was the tone of 168 THE MARTINS OF CUO' MARTIN. society; hut 71 ous avons cltanfje tout cela. Sportinj^;^ men, as tliey call themselves, liave descended to the groom vocabulary, and the proom morals, and we, of the old school, should only be laup^hed at for the ])edantry of good manners, and good English, did wo venture amongst them." "My niece will put a ditferent estimate on your com- panionship ; and hero she comes. Molly, my old and valued friend, ]\lr. 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. Slio 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 Eepton, 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 ^lartin, 1 am too young for such dry labours ; or, as the Due 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 com- panionship. The racy admixture of humour and strong common sense, acute views of life, flavoured with, now a witty remark, now a pertinent anecdote, were conversa- tional powers totall}- new to her. Nor was he less charmed with her. Independentl}- of all the pleasure it gave hini 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 ardour 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 A FINE OLD lEISH BABRISTER. 1G9 could feel, the sanguine forecast but lent another chcii tu to lier fascination. He listened with astonishment as she exj^lained to him the different works then in progress — the vast plans for drainage — the great enclosures for planting — tlie roads projected here, the bridges there. At one place were strings of carts, conveying limestone for admixtm'e 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 recep- tion 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 Ipath, escarped from the side of the mountain ; " but pardon me if I venture to suggest one gloomy anticipation in the midst of such brightness. AVhat 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, unfor- tunately, 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 evei-y charm under heaven, who didn'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 170 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. impossible — ay, just as roundly as you said the word yourself — and seen people and things under aspects so totally llio reverse of what ho first knew them, that he Las taught himself to believe that change is tlie law, and not permanence, in this life, and that yon, and I, and all of us, ought ever to look forward to anything, everything, but the condition in which at present wo find ourselves. Now, I don't want to discourage you with the noble career you have opened for yourself here ; I am far inore 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 destitu- tion, 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 ; ho 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 high- wayman." "So he is," cried Rcpton, delighted at the energy with A FINE OLD IKISH BARRISTEK. 171 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 wasn't of that opinion, though, Tou 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, didn'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 trans- portation for a jack-snipe. I remember once — it was at Maryborough : the fellow in the dock was a notable poacher, and, Avorse still, the scene of his exploits was Cranbury's own estate. As usual, the jury listened apa- thetically 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 pretest for their decision. Cranbury saw the movement, and appre- ciated 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 com'age ; 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 jmy-box that there was no mistaking. They were ' done,' but there never was another conviction in that town after- wards." " 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 import- ance to his general character, his party, his connections, and fifty other things, which had no bearing upon crimin- ality. There goes another shot ! I'll swear to that," cried 172 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. lie, pnllinpf up sliort aiul looking in the direction from which tho report proceudcd. Mary turned at the same moment, and pointed with her w'liip 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 liorses round, and set olf 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 favourite 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 neighboui's to ask for leave, and the Oughtcrard folks would not venture on that liberty, I may safely say that the report of a gan is a rare event in these solitudes." " Whoever he be, yonder, is not losing time," said Repton ; "there was finother shot." Their pace had now become a smart half-gallop, Mary, a h'ttle 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 T only sec the off'ender, 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 A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 173 crosi3-roacl, -when you'll turn off to the left, v/liile 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, touch- ing his hat in respectful salutation, rode away to fulfil liis 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 some- thing solemn even to sadness in the deep solitude, and so Repton seemed to feel as he rode slowly along, alone, tinging 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-acquived power the people will reject these benefits ; they will despise the slow-won fruits of industi-y as the gambler rejects a life of toil. Then will come a reaction — a terrible reaction — with all the sem- blance of black ingratitude ! She will hei'self 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 coai'se 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. " Take care, old gentleman," said the young man, facing about ; " my second barrel is loaded, and if you dare " 174 TnE MARTINS OF CRO' MATITIN. " By TTcavon ! 1*11 tlirasli you, you scoundrel ! " said Rcjiton, whose passion was now boilinf^ over by a suddca bound of the col), 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, Rcpton 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 falk'u 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 eviuence of feeling that the event was other than a mere accident. *' Let loose my bridle-rein — le'^ it loose, sir," said Rcpton, passionately — more passionately, perhaps, from observing the measured calmnef.s of the other. " When I know who you are,! slf^ll," said the young man. " My name is Valentine Kept >n ; my address, if you want it, is Merrion Square North, Dublin; and can you now tell me where a magistrate's warrant will reach, i/ou? " " 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 bo 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 bo no mistake upon that point, at least," replied he. A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 175 "And you shall have it, too ; though, hang me, if I well know whether you should not receive it at the nest 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 Massingbrecl, 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 Magonnis," 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 wag some time before Repton could summon resolu- tion 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 unraingled with anger at the consummate ease and coolness of the other, who by this line of conduct seecaed to assume a tone cf superiority the most gaining and insulting. In vain did he endeavour to juSfTy his act to himself — in vain seek to find a plausiWe pretext for his anger. He could not, by all his inceuuity, 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 quainter sessions ; but not so Val Repton. No, by Jove, he'll find a man to his humour 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 adven- ture ; nor, indeed, were his replies to her questions quite free from a certain amount of inconsistency. Mary, how- ever, willingly changed the subject, and led him back to 170 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. Kpcak of topics more agreeable and congenial to him. Still ho was not the same sprightly companion who had ridden beside her in the morning. Ho conversed with a degree of elFort, and, when sullered, would relapse into long intervals of silence, "Who inhabits that bleak -looking house yonder ? " said he, suddenly. "A certain "Mr. ^fagcnnis, a neighbour, 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 vill expire in a year or t'.vo. 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 endeavouring 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 Ouglitcrard, 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 Rcpton, slily. " Say, rather, what a strain upon one's acuteness it is to ride out with a great lawyer, one so ti-ained 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 light there." IJo A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. !TlTKTt7T\ TTl-nrnTTXTT:! " A RUINED FORTUNE. ' 197 oue 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. "He's here; he arrived last night," said Magennig, as he entered the room after a short exploring tour through the stables, the kitchen, and every other quarter where iutolli- geuce 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 oflp," said he, passing his Land 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 Avant 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." " Wouldn'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 tliere was," said Jack, pointing to the spot where a great strap of sticking-plaister extended across his forehead. "And beseemed to understand at once that reparation was to be made for it ? " 198 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. " The suggestion camo from liimself, frankly and speedily." " AVcll, it's pretty evident we have to deal with a gentle- man!" 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 ^lagonnis took his departure, and set off in search of Mr. Rcpt)n'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 tho corridor. ''To the ould Counsellor from Dublin, sir. lie'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. " 'Tis 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 sup- per, 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 voca- tion 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, Tlosey 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, decrepid 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 ardour fur news — news political, social, legal, or literary; whatever might be the topic, it always "A CHALLENGE." 199 interested liim, 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 lono- 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?" " Ko ; shaved ! " said Magennis, bluntly. "And shaved you shall be. Captain — and beautifully shaved, too, for I have got an excellent case from Lam- prey'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 soldier- like 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. 200 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. " Is he Enrjlisli or Irish ? " *' Scotch, Captain — Scotch ; and never gives more than fivcpence for a cut and curl, pomatum included. — No letters, ^Irs. 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 ho shut tlio jianol, and resumed his functions. " She's at law with O'Keilly about the party wall. There's the ^lajor now going down to the barracks, and I wonder who's the other along with liim ; " and Ilosey rushed to the door to find some clue 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 appli- cant 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, grnfTly. " It is, I may say, the general opinion ; the notion current in There's Miss ilartin herself," cried he, running to the window. '' Well, really, she handles them loonies elegant ! " " Does she come often into town ? " " I don't think I saw her in Oughterard — let mc see when it was — it's tv.'o 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 llosey, presenting him with a small cracked looking-glass. " That's what I call a neat chin and a beautiful sweep of whisker. Thank *'A CHALLENGE.'* 201 you, Captain, It's a pleasure and an honour — 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. Repton had gone out, leaving word that he would be found at Major Froode's quartei's. 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 grey 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 honour, 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 advis- able? Is there not a chance that our united experience might not suggest an amicable arrangement of this busi- ness ? " " Quite out of the question — utterly, totally impos- sible!" said Magennis, stei^nly. " 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 202 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. hurried gesture, complicated with the impatient movement of a horse " A long wliistle from Magennis interrupted the speech, and the Major, reddening to the very top of his high fore- head, 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." " Douljtless, 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 ininc." " By Jove ! you'll kill mc 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 eettling 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 tkat 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 humour me this time, and whenever I get into a scrape in Scotland you shall have it all your own way. Eh, Captain, isn't that fair?" " Spoke like a trump ! " muttered Magennis. " For me, did you say ? " said Repton, taking a letter from the servant, v/ho had just entered the room. " Yes, sir ; and the groom says there's an answer ex- pected." " The devil take it, I've forgotten my spectacles. Froode, just tell me what's this about, and who it comes from." "a challenge." 203 " It's Miss Martin's hand," said Froode, breaking the seal and running over the contents. " Ob, 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- oflBce 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 answei'ing the note myself — whatever occurs to you. And so, sir," said he, turning to Mageunis, " your friend's name is Massingbred. Any relation to Colonel Moore Massino-bred ? " " 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 doggrel lines, — A man wilhout 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 couldn't call him a coward, though ; for when they went out — which they did- — 'Massingbrcd'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's ear, and by '204 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN. Lis 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 ^laclewced said once to a prisoner: ' With a Yorki^hire jury, sir, I'd hnni^ you. Your sentence now is, to pay live marks to the King, and find bail for your good behaviour.' You see what virtue there is in locality." " There's a neat spot about two miles olF, on the road to Maum," said Mageunis to the ^lajor. " AVe 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 IMagennis, 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 this 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 awk- ward 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 Massin^bred sat awaitinji' 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 shouldn't, if you were in other hands this morn- ing you wouldn't have got your shot." *' A CHALLENGE.'* 205 ** I alwa5'S relied implicitly upon youi' skill ! " said Massingbi-ed, humouring his vanity. " Have you anything to arrange — a letter or so to write — for I'll step down to Doctor 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 pre- sent 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 inter- ference 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 i-espect 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 quar- relled ! " 20G THE MAKTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. " "Wc have not, sir. Wo liave not even met. The dls- courtc'sy he lias shown nie since my arrival lioro — 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 " Ho stopped suddenly, as if checked by something within, and then said, but in a voice full and measured, " I'm a magistrate of this town, sir, and I come here upon infor- mation 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, surel}', suppose that a mei'e 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 honour to be incor- rect " •' 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 Honour, then, turns out a very common-placo locality after all ! " " I'm proud to say that our county has another reputa- tion than its old one ; not but " — and he added the words in some tempei' — " 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 reverie, " of all the mock- eries I have lived to sec unmasked, this is the worst and meanest." - " I have not come here to listen to this, sir," said Nel- h'gan, haughtily, as he arose. " I waited upon you, intending to accept your solemn pledge, by word of honour, to commit no act hostile to the public peace. "a challenge." 207 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. JSTelligan," replied Massiugbred, 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. lam 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 assui'e 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 eai'nestness 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 favour, 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 ?»e/" " You must, howevei', 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 suc- cessfully 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 208 THE MARTINS OF CUO* MARTIN. resolving to submit to any terms by which he might quit; Galway forever, and forget, for the rest of his days, that lie had ever entered it. While ho 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 Ilosey Lynch, where I dropped a bullet-mould this morning when he was shaving mc. At all events, we're blown, and ns 1 am under £250 recognizances to keep the peace for thrco years, I'm ofi" 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 black- guards — 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 intro- duced himself, he briefly informed Massingbred of his position as Mr. Kepton'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 acquaint- ances." ** 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 " A CHALLENGE. ' 209 beyond it," said Massingbred. " I am not quite certain but that my own conduct might require a little explana- tion ; but as your friend's vigour put matters beyond negotiation at the time, we'll not go back upon by- gones." " And now, sir," burst in Repton, who had waited out- side 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 per- mitted 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 Eepton. "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 VOL. I, P 210 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. way, I must leave you to your own guulunco to find your roatl to Cro' Martin, for tlicre's a young lady below stairs has a lieu 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 ^lartin I've been liearing of," thought Massingbred, when again alone ; " and bo the morning's work will probably turn out better than I had anticipated." 211 CHAPTER XYII A COUKTRY-HOtrSE. "When Massingbred aiTived 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 relatefl 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 honours 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 sti^ain, 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 ot 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 bruken 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 p 2 212 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. degree of anticipation as to how such elements would haniiotiizo nnd agree. Wiieii M:i.ssingl)rcd entered the drawing-room, ho found ^liss Henderson there alone ; and at once believing she could bo no other than Miss Martin, ho proceeded to introduce himself in the best manner he conld. 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. I>ady 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 relationsliip at once." AVith 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 Conne- niara there existed a little oasis of polish and civilization that would have done honour 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'oeil of that world could only be imparted by an observer, imbued with all the spirit that gives observation its peculiar piquancy. Tlii.^ she found in him ; and so agreeably exercised was it, that she actually heard dinner announced without attend- ing, 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 ilr. Repton, that plainly said — " You are deposed." A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 213 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 honour. As they moved slowly through the last of these, the door suddenly opened, and young Nelligan entered. He had returned late from a loncj ride, and heard nothinsr whatever of Massingbred'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, I^elligan," 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 consola- tion. It was indeed Massingbred, just as he had seenhiui the first day in the Common's Hall at dinner, and when his cold, supercilious manner had struck him so disagree- ably. What a terrible vengeance for all the superiority Nelli- gan 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 pos- sessed besides that especial tact to make others so far par- ticipators 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 them- selves — 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 compla- cent ease, and felt delighted with one who could play all the game without an adversary. Mary was pleased and 214 THE mahtins of cro' matitin. astonished together — the pleasure being even less than the ania/.enitiit — at all he sceincd to know of life and the world, and how intimately one so young seemed to have mixed in society. As for Rcpton, 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 spai'k 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 deter- mined 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 subd-ue any rising feeling of interest regarding her. " And the gentleman who sat next her at dinner ? " asked he. " A neighbour — 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, a while ago, society in England is gradually undergoing that change which in France was accomplished in a year or two." A COUNTKY-HOUSE. 215 "With the aid of the guillotine aucl the ' lanternc,'" 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 intiniacy ■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 pre- eminence, and yet we saw him to-day not venturing on a remark, nor even hazarding an opinion on the topics wo talked of, and silent where he ought to have been heai'd with advantage." " Is he bashful ? " said Jack, with a lazy drawl. " I don't think it's that ; at least, not altogether." *' Supercilious, perhaps P " " Oh ! certainly not," replied she, hastily. " The com- pany 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 con- nexions 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 grand- father'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. 216 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. It was no small mortification to !Massingbrcd to spend his evening in these genealogical researches ; ho had f^een tlio two young girls move oiF 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 bo along witli them. However, it was a penalty must be exacted, and he thought tiiat the toll once paid he liad secured himself against all demands for the future. Not caring to participate in the many intricacies of those family discussions whei'cin 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 alTording 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 companion- ship with one of her own age, and who, with the dreaded characteristics of a governess, was in reality a very charm- ing 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, illustra- tive 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, whero 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 splen- dours wherein I was not to share. And as for the quiet A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 217 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 adven- tures 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 labourer knows j'ou as his succour — 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 coloured, and her voice faltered as she said : " There, they were unjust. The impracticable tempers I have to deal with — the untutoi'ed minds and undisci- plined natures — often lead me into seeming contradic- tions." " Like the present, perhaps," said Miss Henderson. ^ " How ! the present ? " cried 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 con[essing 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 criticize 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 218 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. •willing to turn tlio topic of conversation. "I should li!;o to hear your story." " At tliirtctn ycar.s of nge — I bclievo 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 reverie. "I'm not sure that wc 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 beiug 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 nscd 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 xcas 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. A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 219 The minute anatomy of emotions is a very dangerous topic. At this very moment I cannot free myself from the old habit; and ns 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." "Bat 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 abstract- edly. " 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 some- thing 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'othei', to be richer, or 220 TUE MARTINS OF CRO' MAKTIN. greater, or higher, but never to bo more acceptablo in society — more ngreeuble or pleasanter company." " We haven't time," said Nelligan, gravely. " For what have we not time ? Do you mean wo 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 au old lawyer — by a song .'' " It must be ^liss 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. Hived in an age when the ' Last Rose of Summer,' and the ' Harp that Once,' were classical as Homer's ' Hymns,' but 1 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 Germnny." " I hope you would not imply that we are as little versed in these as great scholars are in the others?" said Kate Henderson, slil}'. " Sharply said, miss, and truthfully insinuated too ! Not to mention that tliere is courage in such a speech berore Mr. Neiligan, here." "Yes — very true — a just remark!" said Joseph, who only overheard a reference to himself without under- standing to what it alluded. And now a very joyous burat of laughter from the others startled him, while it covered him with confusion. "We must make them sing, Nelligan," said Repton, gaily. " They'll vanquish us in these tilting matches of w ord-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 A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 221 of fhose brilliant little snatches of Venetian melody, -wliich seem like the outburst of a sudden inspiration — wild joyous, floating as they are — wherein such is the expres- sion, 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 Massingbred, 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. Tlicre is a single word at the end of each verse which should be uttered by a second voice. Just as I passed beneath a brillianth-- 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 Courcellcs 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 222 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. tono of easy familiarity in which the conversation was conducted. But ^lassingbred seemed wonderfully littlo moved by the intelligence, for, drawing his chair closer to Kate's, ho led her to talk of Venice and its life, till, im- perceptibly 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 afi'ectiouately around her. " Wliat a happiness must it be to possess such gifts as yours, wliich, 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 dispai-age yourself," said Kate, rdldly ; "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?" •' VvHien was Mr. Repton wrong?" said Mary, laughing. "When he waited till his present age to fall in love!" said he gaily. " But, seriously, what have you done with our young student? Of all the woe-bcgone faces I ever beheld, bis was the very saddest, as he moved into the large drawing-room a while ago. Which of you is to blame for this ?" " Not guilty, upon my honour," said Mary, with mock Bolemuity. " I'm "^half afraid that our showy friend has eclipsed him in your eyes, as I own to you he has in niine^ clover fellow that he is." A COUNTKY-HOUSE„ 223 " Are you not charmed witli yourself that you did not shoot him this morning?" said Mary, laughing. *' I am sincerely gratified that ho 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. Mas- singbred 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 / 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 for- warded to him at once, by coach, and contained these paragraphs : " You now know how I came here : the next thino- ir, to tell you of the place itself. The house is large and admirably montee — abundance of servants, well drilled, and orderly. The master a nonentity, apptircntly ; easy- tempered iu.d good-humoured ; liking the quiet monotony of his humdrum lite, and only asking that it may not be interfered with. His wife, a fine lady of the school of fi\e-i!Ud iorty jears .igo— a nervous terrorist about vnob encroachments and the democratic tendencies of the rimes — insufi'erably tiresome on genealogies and ' connections/ and what many would call downright vulgar in the amount of her pretension. Gratitude — for I have the honour of 224 THE JLVETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. bcinj a fuvouiite already — seals my lips aj^ainst any further or harsher criticism. As for the niece, she is decidedly handsome ; a great deal of style about her too ; uith a degree of — shall I call it daring? for it is more like coarago than any other (juality — that tells you she is the uncontrolled ruler over the wild regions and wild people around her. With more of manner, she would bo 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 tho governess. Ay, Harry, the governess! And just fancy, under this unim- posing 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 every- where — 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 needn't tell i/ou Jack ^lassingbred docs 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 any- thing you like above thirty thousand — that, in short, even Jack himself might exhibit tlie 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 bo sworn, and formed to make the man, whose fortunes she shar(,d, stand forward in tho van and distinguish himself "These are our whole dramatis persona;, if I include an old barrister, with a racy humour 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 ; ho is a low fellow, and I w^as wrong in ever thinking him otherwise. I chanced upon his hither's acquaintance rather oddly ; and the sou A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 225 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 every- body 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 observa- tion, and opportunity for malice. What can a man want moi-e ? 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 gestae, and learn all that befals " 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 over- drawn 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." TOL. I. 226 THE MARTINS OF ORO' MARTIN. CHAPTER XVITI, STATECRAFT. It was a cabinet council ; they were met in Lady Doro- thea'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 ISIarquis 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 qualifi- cations 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 recom- mendation to favour? Of all the immense advantages of a representative government, is there any more con- spicuous than the unerring certainty with which men of ability rise to eminence without other £vid 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-Some- thingTt and see what the answer will be. Polite, certainly; BTATECRAFT. 227 nothing more so ; but wtat a rebuke to self-seeking ! — what a stern chastisement to the ignorant presumption that places are awarded by means of favour, 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 bar- risters 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 thi'ee, 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 con- fidant of some damaging trartsaction ? Or is he the deserter from a camp, where his treason may sow disaffec- tion ? 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 N"avy, 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 Eeckington'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 Q 2 228 THE :martins of cuo' mautik. flattered myself that I had served my time in public capa- cities, and that neither tlic Crown nor its advisers eonld reasonaltly call upon me for furtlier sacritices. You know how little to my tasto were either the cares or ambitions of ollice. Tn fact, as happens to most men who are zealous for the pul)lic service, my oflicial career imposed far inoro of pacritices 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 favouritism so fatal to all in power ! I thought, as I have said, that they had no fair claim upon mo any longer. I asked nothing ; indeed, many thought I was wrong there. But so it was, I quitted oflieo without a pension, and without a ribbon ! It was lato on a Saturday evening, however, when a Cabinet messenger arrived at 'Beech Woods' with an order for me to repair at once to W^indsor. 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 per.spicuity, into a detail of late changes and events in the Cabinet He was exces- sively 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 m}' 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 wear^^ you with details. I accepted and kissed hands as Viceroy on Monday morn- ing; since that I have been in daily communication with Gr , who btiil remains iu ofiice. We have discussed STATECRAFT. 229 Ireland from moi'ning to night, and I hope and trust have at last come to a thoi-ough 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." Tho letter here went off into a somewhat long-winded pro- fession 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 honourable 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 — inde- pendent by fortune as well as by principle — extending the example of a blameless life to a lai'ge neighbourhood — 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 pai'liamentary 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 230 TEE JfARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 1/ou do for us ? Yes, my dear Dora, I repeat, wliat can you do for us? AVluit \vc need, is the support of nicu who have courage enough to merge old prejudices and old convictions in their full trust in us; who, with the intelhgence of true statesmanship, will comprehend the altered condition of the country, and not endeavour to adapt the nation to their views, but rather their views to tho nation. In a word, a wise and liberal policy, not based upon party watchwords and antiquated symbols, hut on the prospect of seeing Ireland great and united. Now, will iMiirtin 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 ho 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 diflerence of political opinion should ever throw a cold- ness 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 Ecpton, as though seeking in the im- passive lines of the old lawyer's face for some clue 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 fdl their place, my Lord Recking- ton 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 STATECKAFT. 231 travelling party without knowiag whither they're journey- ing ? " " 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, iu 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 lusmy of the borough," said Repton. "You don't want anything from these people, Martin. You don't covet a peerage — you wouldn'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 favour to com- mute 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 favours ; why should you expend ten or tifteen 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 80 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 232 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. even say, let the boroujrli po after tbo county ; and for tliis plain reason," said Kcpton, speaking with increased firmness and animation, " you neither seek for tho 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 con- tested elections. Ah, my lady, what do you care for tho 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 Ibey would confer," added he, in a tone only overheard by ^lartin ; 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 mea living, who is so free of hungry dependents 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 tlie 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 appoint- ment as Viceroy is the best guarantee that the rigbts 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 STATECRAFT. 233 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 representa- tive 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 ivere 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 hot- beds of Maynooth — a forcing-house whose fruits you are yet to taste of! Sneer away, Martin; but my name is not Val Eepton if those men do not rule Ireland yet ! Ay, sir, and rule it in such a fashion as your haughty Beres- fords, 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 Parlia- 234 THE MARTINS OF CKO* MARTIN. iricnt, sir, — privileges for themselves and their order,- — benoBts to ' the Cliurch,' — and, when nothing better or more tempting oilers, insults and slights to their anta- gonists. You, and all like you, will bo passed over as if 30U never existed : the ^linister will not need you : you'll bo so many general ollicers 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 gi'eat measure, depend upon yourt-elves." "That agrees with what Scanlan said the other day," said Martin. "Scanlan!" echoed her ladyship, with most profound contempt. •' Who is this Scanlan ? " asked Eepton. " 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 Buspectful 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 m«n 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 STATECRAFT. 235 for a reply, lie 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. " Ob, 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, slily. " 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, Scanlau ? " said Martin, as the attorney came, bowing and smiling, forward to pay his respects. " My friend, Mr. Repton, wishes to make your acquaint- ance." " I have the honour of being known to Mr. Repton, already, sir, if he has not forgotten me." " Eh — how ? where? " cried the lawyer, sharply. " In Reeves versris Dockery and another, sir, in Hilary, 24. It was / supplied the instructions " " To be sure — perfectly right. Maurice Scanlan ; isn't that the name ? Ton did the thing well, sir ; and if we failed, we retreated without dishonour." " 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 wouldn'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.' 236 lUK MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. " ' I ilon't caro where it is, sir,' was the answer. " ' ]n a cliargc delivered by Lord Khlon ' " ' Uh, let us hear my Lord Eldoii,' said Plumridge, the Puisne Judge, who was rather ashamed of the Chief Baron's severity. ' Let us hear my Lord Eldon.' " ' Here it, my lords,' said the Counsellor, opening the volume, and laying his hand upon the page, ' Crewe and Fast's Pleas of the Crown, page 1,438. I^ly Lord Eldon says: " I may here observe the Courts of Law in Ireland are gcneraUij wrong ! The Court of Exchequer is always wrong ! "' " Ecpton 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, bo 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 Ileckiugton comes here as Lord- Lieutenant." "That we know also." " Colonel Massiiigbred 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 dis- solution ; 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. 237 CHAPTER XIX. A STUDIO. It is one of the most inestimable privileges of Art, that amidst all tbe cares and contentions of the world, amidst strife, and war, and carnage, its glorious realm is undis- turbed, its peace unbroken, and its followers free to follow their own wayward fancies, without let or hin- drance. 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 orchesti-a. After all, this division of labour 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 con- fided to certain individuals is in itself a sufficient evidence, just as we see in the existence of flower8, tiiat pleasure has its place assigned in the grand scheme of creation, and that the happiness which flows from grati- fied sense has not been denied us. In that petty world which lived beneath the roof of Cro' Martin Castle, all the eager passions and excite- ments of political intrigue were now at work. ]\Iy lady- was full of plans for future greatness; Repton was scheming, and suggesting, and thwarting everbody in turn ; and even Martin himself, engulphed in the " Mael- strom" of the crisis, was roused into a state of semi- 238 THE MAllTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. preparation that amounted to a condition of almost fever. As for Massingbred, wliafcver 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 oilicc elicit from him anything beyond a somewhat contemptuous opinion of the now 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 Kilkeiran to its place there. The unlucky masterpiece was doomed to many a diffi- culty. The great events in prospect had totally banished all thought of "art" from Lady Dorothea's mind. The fall of a x'ecent administration was a far more imminent circumstance thaii the abdication of a king a few cen- turies back. iMartin, of course, had enough on,his head, without the cares of mock royalty. Mary was over- whelmed 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 com- plete the list of defaulters, young Nelligan — the future Prince of Oi'ange 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 tliat 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 influ- ence of varnish, may smile at such a sorrow, but take ray word for it, it is a real and tangible atfliction. The waving locks, the noble brow, the deep square orbits, and the finely-cut chin, are but the subtle sugges- tions out of which inspirations arc begotten, and poetic visions nurtured. The graceful beariug and the noble port, the tender melancholy or the buoyant gladness, have each in turn struck soine chord of secret feeling in the A STUDIO. 239 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 expe- rienced 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 enthu- siasm of his powers is exposed. He sat down before his canvas, as some general might before a fortified town which had resisted all his eSbrts 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 impai't 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." 240 THE MARTINS OF CHo' MARTIN. "And (lio drapery — that robo of the King's — tells me that you have studied anotlier ^reat master of colour — am I right, sir, in saying Paul Veronese?" Simmy Crow's face glowed till it became crimson, \\hilc his eyes sparkled with intense delight. "Oh, dear me!" ho exclaimed, "isn't it too much happiness to hear this ? and only a minute ago I was in black despair! " " ^line is very humble criticism, sir, but as I have seen good pictures " "Where? In tho 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 indifl'ercnt to pass- ing incidents ?' " ' Yes,' said I, ' I have, whenever I was doing any- thing really worth the name.* " ' And at such times,' said he, again, * you cared nothing, or next to nothing, for either tho flatteries or the sarcasms of those around you ? ' " ' I couldn't mind them,' said I, * for I never so much as heard them.* A STUDIO. 241 " * 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 dis- couraged 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 for ever,' 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, Avith a dash of bluish grey over it — half sky, half atmosphere — and I daub away till something like an effect — mnybe a sunset, maybe a sullen-looking sea-shore, maybe a long, low prairie swell, rises before me. I don't trj' 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 colour, 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 colour and tint that enter the brain by the eye, and just pi'oduce 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. YOL. I. E 2-12 THE MATITINS OF CKO' MARTIN. " And your Prince, Mr. Crow ? " said she, changing hor tone to one of real or allectcd interest ; " what's to bo 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 obsuro position." " But why not ask Mr. Massingbrcd 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, witli 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. Kow, 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. * There is no necessity to lose the expression of haughty sorrow in the eye and brow," continued slie ; " 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 colours upon the palette. A STUDIO. 243 "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 thx-own over her head, gave a cei-tain picturesque character to the figure, which nearer inspection moi'e 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 ques- tioning her in turn. " No, but if I can be of any use to you " " I don't think you can," broke she in, Avith a mannei' 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 didn'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 thip surmise. *' I have gone through all our names here," said Kate ; ** and except Mr. Massingbred " " And there's the very cue I want," said the girl, boldly. E 2 244 THE MATITINS OT CHO* MATITTN. " Step in here and rest yourself, nnd 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 ^Ir. Crow proceeded in search of Massingbred, Kate Henderson, resuming brush and palette, returned to her painting ; not, however, on the grand canvas of tho *' Historical, " but dexterously interposing a piece of fresh board, she seized the opportunity to sketch the beautiful head then before her, •wliile 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 vouch- safed a single question as to the paintings ; she even tried to moderate the eager pleasure they afforded by an endea- vour 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 vapidly, that her sketch was already well- nigh completed when Massingbred entered. " My dear ISIistress 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." Uurriedly as these words were uttered, and in all tho apparent fervour of hearty sincerity, they were accom- panied by a short glance at Kate Henderson, who was about to leave the room, that plainly said, " Remain where yon are, there is no mystery here." " I thank yer honer kindly," said Joan Landy, '* but it's no good coming, he isn't there." " Not there ! — how and why is that? " " Sure i/ou ought to know better than »2e," said she, fixing her large eyes full upon him. " Ye left the house together, and /le never came back since." " Oh, perhaps 1 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 be ? " A STUDIO. 245 *' 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 liim ? — 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 labourin' 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 Magennia had written to him. "And is that all?" exclaimed Joan, when he con- cluded. •' All, upon my honour ! " said he, solemnly. " Oh, then, wirra ! wirra !" said she, wringing her hands, sorrowfully, " why did I come here ? — why didn'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 honor knows well what he is to me I'* 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 youp 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 ! " 246 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. " You littlo 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 Massiugbred's check 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. " 1^0, miss — no, yer honor ; many thanks for the same," Baid 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 BO 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. AVith all a woman's nice perception, and quite without effort, she talked to Joan about the country and the people, of whose hahits 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 A STUDIO. 24.7 easy familiainty used towads her, and tlio absence of any- thing 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 diflQcult 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 difl&cult to pronounce its meaning. " They are Indeed, miss," was the answer. " Have they any hope ? What do they promise them- selves 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 gaol." " 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 ? Isn'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 2 IS THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. turned a look on Massingbred, as though to say — " Yoa ought to answer this for me." But Jack was too deep in his own thoughts even to notice the appoah " I can scarcely ask yon to como to me^ " said Kate, quickly perceiving a dilhculty, " for I'm not even a visitor at Cro' Martin." " I'm sure I hope it's not the hist 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 reverie. " 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 doesn'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. " 1 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." A STUDIO. 249 "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 Jcnow 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 moi'e 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 agreeabU', 250 THE MATITINS OF CRo' MARTIN. to out-talk him, out-quotc, and out-anecdote liim. It is true you succeeded, but wliat a poor success it was ! how iuadequate to the forces that were mustered to cfloct it ! " "And now for tho other couut of the indictment," said he, with a half smile. *' First, do you plead guilty to this one?" asked she. " Yes ; with an ' attenuating cii'cumatance.' " "What is that?" ** Why, that i/ou were present," said Jack, with a glance of more than more passing gallantry. "Well," said she, after a pause, " I did take some of tho display to my own share. I saw that you didn't care to captivate tho young lady of the house, and that my lady bored you." " Insufferably ! " exclaimed Jack, with energy. "Your manner show^ed 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 heroicall}' as you fancied. I noticed your weariness before the dinner was half over, as I detected your splenetic dislike to young Mr. Nclligan " " To young Nelligau ? — then he has told you " " Stop — be cautious," broke she in, hurriedly ; " don't turn evidence against yourself. jE£e 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 tho accident by which he became old Nelligau's guest. "What can you make of Joseph's conduct," cried he, "or how A STUDIO. 251 explain his refusal to meet me at his father's table ? One of two reasons there must be. He either discredits me iu 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 Jii?n it were more manly." " Why not have asked him which alternative he ac- cepted ?" asked Kate. " Because the opportunity to wound him deeply — in- curably — first presented itself. I knew well that nothiug would hurt him like the cool assumption of not recog- nizing 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 crim- son, 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 dis- pleased 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 1/ott now would quarrel with wze," 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. 252 THE MABTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. "I accept, whatever it be. Name it." "That you bo your own friend, that you address your- self to the business of life seriously and steadily; resolv- ing to employ your al)ilitics as a means of advancement, not as a mere instrument for amusement; determine, in fact, to bo 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 fricndsliip," replied she, with mock solemnity. " Aud 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 wickct-gute 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 alter her silently and thoughtfully. 253 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 por- tion 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 destina- tions, here I am, very much at the service of ]\Ir. 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 ho, handing her a letter with a poi^tentous-looking seal attached to it. "What a fine bold hand — and how easy to read! " said she, perusing it. Jack watched her naiTOwly 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 ? " 2o4 THE MARTINS OP Cno' MAHTIN. " I scarcely know what I project as yet," said ho. " I have no career ! " " Well, let us plan one," replied she, crossing her arms on the table, and speaking with increased earnest- ness. " The Martins have otl'ered you Oughtcrard " 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 moro 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 haven't got habits of dis- cipline 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 bo assured ! " " Then there are only secondary rewards to be won." •' You certainly do not over-estimate me ! '' said Jack, trying to seem perfectly indiflerent. " I have no desire to underrate your abilities," said she, calmly ; " they are very good ones. You have great fluency — great ' vai-iety,' as Grattan would call it — an excellent memory — and a most amiable self-posses- sion." "By Jove!" said he, reddening slightly, "you enu- merate 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,' AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 255 and ■vvhicli 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 efi'ort 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 chai'iot, 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 your- self 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 you father is sitting ; and nothing will so redound to your character for indepen- dence." "Why, where in Heaven's name," cried Jack, "have you got up all this ? What and how do you know any- thing of party and politics? " "Havel 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 mo 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 25Q THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. 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 bo 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, 1 present myself before you to solicit the honour 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 aiTcsted my attention and engaged my sympathies, impelling me to enter upon a public career, and, if favoured by your approval, to devote whatever energy and capacity I may jiossess 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 sug- 1 — — --" Jt / AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 257 gestions. 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 lie had selected you to represent his. In this wise : " and again she wrote — "*Itis 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 litera- ture 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 ofi'ers no reward worthy the name ? " " I think yoni 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 indiff'erent as to the line to follow — I'd have great convictions, and hold them — I mean, if I were youT " 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 thorough-bred 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 man- VOL. I. S 258 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. ncr — " don't faucy that I'm insensiblo to the impertinencca 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 criticizing your conduct, character, and manners, I thout^ht that I might render you good service by saying what better ta.stc and better breeding would shrink from, and the only cost bo the dislike of myself." " You took a very bad way to accomplish the latter," said Jack, fervently. " I didn't give it much consideration," said she, liaugh- til}'. " It was very little matter what opinion you enter- tained 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 j'ou 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 con- dition on which this intercourse of ours can continue, ■which is, that this topic bo 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 ray capacity ; as little is it anj'thing bordering on regard ; and yet,'' added he, after a pause, AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 259 *' 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 daughtei' — portionless as she is — the notion would not be so absurd ; but ' the governess ! ' and ' the steward ! ' what frightful figures to conjure up. ISTo, no ; that's impossible. One might do such a folly by retiinng from the world for ever, 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 ? " ci'ied 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 Raffert}-, and that other fellow — the father of our young friend here." " Mr. Nelligan," said Jack. " But I can't well visit Tiim — 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 com- plication. Step in now, and let us away." And with this he hurried Massingbred to the door, where a pcny-phactou 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 S 2 2G0 THE MARTINS OF CTlo' MARTIN. the astute habits and instincts of bis profession had never mastcfod. Like a ji^rcat many acute men, his pas- sion for shrewd observation and keen remark overbore the prudent reserve that belongs to less animated talkers, and so ho now scrupled not to discuss ^lartin and his affairs to one who but a few days back had been a com- plete 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 in- debtedness; 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 I'eally 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 money-lender has a claim — bow 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 iu improving and developing the property," said Jack. " Of course ho is, sir. That new-fangled notion of * gentleman-farming ' — which has come to us from AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 261 countries where there are no gentfemen — 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 yon feel, as yo behold it, as though it were to be the mainspring of a great career ? Is there an instinctive throb within that says, ' The honourable 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 resoui-ce 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 attorne}', 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, ho 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 3'ou 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 : — 202 THE MAnilNS OP CRO* MARTIN. " Deak Rep., " Tlio post has just arrived, with intelligence that Harry is cominc;: Jiome — may bo hero within a week or BO — so that wc must not go on witli our present plans for the borough, as II., of cour.se, will stand. Come back, therefore, at ouce, and let us talk over the matter together. " Yours, iu haste, " G. M." "You know what this contains, perhaps?" said Rcpton, 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 Scan- lan 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 iu the borough without us," said Rcpton, confidently. "^w; x^ ^^ ■ ^T^iiin^nffr^" AN ELECTION ADDKESS. 263 *' 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 emer- gency, l^ot 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 state- craft to young Massingbred. " To fancy that I was in- stilling 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 2G4 THE MAnirs's of cro* martin. opposition to us. ^lartin must consent to make the best of it, now, and accept liira asliis member — for the present, at least. With time and good opportunity we can manage to trip np his liccl.-;, but, lor the moment, there's no help for it." And witli these not very consoling reflections ho entered once more the grounds of Cro' Martin Castle. Let us now turn to Massingbred, as, accompanied by IMagennis, 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 otiier, 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. lie sliowed the post-mark on the back of tlie letter to Father RafTerty, 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 mightn't be a bad counsellor at this moment." " Just come and talk to him a bit," rejoined ^Nfagennis ; " 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 AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 265 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 resolu- tion in the committee, that your address be accepted as embodying the views — ho said the present views — of the liberal electors." " You amaze me ! " cried Massingbred ; " and Joo, 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," muttei'ed 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 wi-ote 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 Massing- bred, who now suffered his companion to rattle on about the state of parties and politics in Oiightei'ard, little heeding his remarks, and only bent on following out his own thoughts. "Give whom the sHp?" asked he, sud- 266 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. (Icnly catcliing at tlio last -words of some observation of Magcnnis. " Tlio ^ravtins, of course," resumed the other ; "for, as Father Ncal says, 'if wc can secure the borough for you, you can will afl'ord 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 mako his appearauco !" " Just so ; and tliat'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 for- ward ? " *' They might make a personal appeal to me — a distinct request to give place to the son." " And wouldn'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, ^Ir. ^lassingbred," said he, coming to a dead halt, and standing directly in front of liira, " we don't go the same road, not one step, till I hear from 3'ou, distinctly and plainly, what you mean to do." " Tliis is somewhat of a peremptory proceeding," replied Jack. " I think it would not be very unreason- able to allow a man in my situation a little time for reflection." " Eeflect 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 arc not quite fair in this business ; there are difiiculties — 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 Mai-tin with us and no contest, because it's cheaper ; but if it must come to money, we'll do it." AN ELECTION ADDBESS. 267 " Satisfy me on that point, and I'm with you ; there's my band on't ! " And Magennis grasped him in his own strong fingers to ratify the contract. While " ]\rac " Avent 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. TVe 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, ISTelligan 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 morn- ing?" 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 208 THE SrARTINS OF CRO' JFARTIN. spare, for T must bo in waiting about tho market-place ■wliL'ii bo drives in." "We must bavo a conference, tbougb," said Futber Neal ; " tbcre's mucb to be settled. First of all, are wo to coalesce for tbo representation ?" " No, no, no ! " cried Nelligan. " We'll bavc it our own way. If !Mr. !Massiiigbrcd will bo our ^Member, wo want no help from tbe ilartins." " Tbcre's five ]Kninds, and I'll make it guineas if you like," said old Hayes, jiutting a note upon tbe table; " but tbe devil a Wiiig or Tory will ever get more out of Peter Hayes ! " A very good-natured laugh from tbe othei'S showed how little umbrage tbo frank avowal excited. " We'll not want for money, Peter, make your mind easy about that," said Uan. " When can you meet the committee, Mr. Massingbred ? Could you say to-night ? " "Better to-morrow morning. I must return to Cro' Martin this evcninc:." " Certainly — of course," said Father Neal, blandly. " You'll have to come to an understanding with Mr. JIartin about the borough, declare what your principles are, and how, upon very mature consideration, you tind you can't agree with the opinions of himself and his party." Magennis winked significantly at Jack, as tbougb to say, " Listen to him — he's the man to instruct and direct you," and tbe priest resumed : " Go on to explain that your only utility in the House could arise from your being tbe exponent of what you feel to be the truth about Ireland, tbe crying evils of tho Established Church, and tbe present tenure of land ! When you throw these two shells in, sir, tho town will be on fii'c. He'd 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 iust drivinjr round tbe corner," said I/O ' Magennis, in a whisper, and Massingbred arose at once and drew nigh to tbe bedside. An election address. 269 *' 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 NelHgan 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 oflence 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." " 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 JVeal, shortly after, as Scaulan drove rapidly by, with Massingbred beside him. " Maybe Master Maurice won't abuse us all I'ound before he turns in at the gate of Cro' Martin." " Massingbred is too 'cute to mind him," said Ma- gennis. " 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 270 TUE MARTINS OF CRO'' MARTIN. the priest, stoutly. " It's a strange fact, but there's no manner of man rates social advantajrcs so hi;^'h as he that has them by rii,'ht, and without any struggle lor them." "Well," s:ii(l uld llayos, 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 bo discussed between us. jMr. Massingbred will have Jii.i station — we'll have ours. There's a long and weary road before us ere wc 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 con- tact, 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 mo 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 ho "tooled" along towards Cro' Martin. Not a word of politics, not a syllable on the subject of part}', escaped him as he talked. His conversation was entirely of sport- ing matters : the odds against Lcandcr, the last bettings on "Firebrand," whether Spicy Bill was really in bad AN ELECTION ADDEESS. 271 training, as the knowing ones said, aiid 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 BelVs Life ; and Scanlan quickly conceived a high estimate for one who had graduated at I^ewmarket, and taken honours 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 sincei'ity 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 wilHngly 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, T 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 Mas- singbred. "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 ! " 27*2 THE MARTDs'S OP CRO' MAHTIN. " Exactly my own experience," said Scanlan, deliphted to find liis opinions confirmed in such a quarter. *' Now, young ^I.'irtin would give five hundred pounds for a horso to win a fifty pound cup. Don't you know what I mean ? " " Perfectly," said Massingbred, with an approving smile. " Nobody knows the sums lie has drawn since he went away," exclaimtd Scanlan, w lio was momentarily growing more and more confidential. "There's a deal of high jilay in India— perhaps ho 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 coniiug back again." " And is he about to visit England ? " asked Massing- bred 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 con- tinued 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 exa- mination. " 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 f " "Eleven-eight — at least, so I used to be. Is it a bar- gain ? Will you come ? " "There's my liaud on't," said the attorney overjoyed at the prospect. " Mackworfh, and Lord Harry Coverdale, and Sir Wentworth Danby, and a few more, are all my neighbours. Capital fellows, whom you'll be delighted with. Just the sort of men to suit you — up to everything that means sport." AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 273 " 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 honour," 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 enjoy- ments 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 staunch friend when he takes any one up. I suspect you'di like him. 1 know he'd like you" " I'm greatly flattered. I don't deserve " " You see," said Jack, not heeding the interruption, and assuming the low accents of a confidential communi- cation — " 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 doesn't meet with every day — and now, the only road back to his favour 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 woi-ld — 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 yOL. I. '^ 27-1 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. a soutcntious shako of tho head. " Ilcrc wo arc now at Cro' ^lartin, and then tlicro's the first diuncr-bell ring- ing." " Wo shall bo Late, perhaps," said Jack. '' You'll be in good timO. 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 sec you in the evening," said Massingbrcd. " It seems to rac — I don't know whether you are of the same opinion, though — but it seems strongly to me that you and I ought to bo allies." " If I thought I was worthy " " Come, come, Scanlan, no modesty, old boy. Tou know you're a devilish clever fellow, and you no moro 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 ho 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 Mas- singbred, as he descended from the loft}'' " drag.'' Somewhat, but not very much, later than the time appointed, Jack Massingbred appeai'ed 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 forget- ting 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 for ever, I suspect you're right," replied AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 275 Jack ; " but you'll tave 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. T 3 276 TUE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. CHAPTER XXL AN AWKWARD VISITOR. It is a singularly impressive sensation, and one, too, of wliicli oven frequency will scarcely diminish the efiect, to pass Irom 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 carea and ambitions, its pursuits of wealth and pleasure — into the stillness of acloister. 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 favour from " the Board," as emi- nently suited to his habits of study and seclusion — for his was indeed a life of labour — labour, 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 wlieu success had crowned all hi.s labours. 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 bad AN AWKWARD VISITOR. 277 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 scat- tered about in diiferent 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 Avould 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 discoloured, per- haps 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 wdiose 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 memo- ries 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 day- dreams 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 imagina- tive. 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 reverie. It is not improbable that these periods are the fitting form of relaxation for over- 278 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. taxed minds, and that the Imagination is the sootliing innucncc that repairs the •wear and tear of Reason. The peculiar circumstances of young Nelh'gan's position in life had almost totally estranged him from others. The constraint that attaches to a very bashful tempera- ment 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 wliat 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 1)orn as he had been the world im- poses a barrier that only is passable by the highest and greatest success. It is true, his father's letter of expla- nation 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 splendour 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 AN AWKWARD VISITOR. 279 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 with- draw 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 ai-e my truest and best of friends, and in their intei-course 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 reverie ; 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. ISTelligan 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 tail, 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 liurry in which bashful men seek to hide their awk- 280 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. warduess, Joseph ushered his visitor into his dimly- lighted chamber. Colonel Massingbred, with all the staid composure of a Tery quiet demeanour, had quite Hufiicient 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 ex- plain the reason of his visit. " My son has told mo of the great ])leasure and profit he has derived from knowing you, sir," said he; "he has also informed me that a slight and purely casual event intcrru[)tcd the friendship that existed between you ; and, although unable himself to tender personally to you at this moment all his regrets on the subject, ho has charged me to be his interpreter, and express hi.s 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 labour." "lam not reading now. I have read very little of late," said Joseph, diffidently. "lean imagine what that means," said the colonel, smiling. " Mr. Nelligan's relaxations would be the hard labour of less zealous students; but I will also say, that upon other grounds this must be done with more con- sideration. 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 frar that you have AN AWKWARD VISITOE. 281 been misled both as to my capacity and my ob- jects." " 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 acquaint- ance 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, thick-set 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, dis- engaging 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 NeUigan, 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 interest- ing." " 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 282 Tiir; martins op cro' martin. colonel, Crow resumed: — " ]']vcrybody trying to cheat somebody else. The ^Miirtins wanting to cheat the borough, the borough wanting to jockey the JMartins, and then young ^Fassingbred humbugging thcra botli ! And there he is now, ^Member for Oughtcrard, and much ho 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," con- tinned Simmy, quite flattered at the attention vouchsafed him ; "for though the ^Martins put young Massingbrod forward at i'lrsi, they quarrelled with him before the day for the nomination — something or other about the franchise, or Ma3Miooth, or the Church Establishment — sorra one o' mo 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 dra- goons, 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. Llaybe he didn'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 every- thing they could get against his character, and at last declared that he had no qualification, and wasn't worth sixpence." AN AWKWARD VISITOR. 283 " And Low did lie answer that ? " ci'ied 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 Coun- sellor Repton himself, with all his 'cuteness, couldn'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 Nelli- gan. " 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 maybe, 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 Nelligau — '' 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, ' Isn'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. 2Si THE MARTINS OF CRO' MABTIN. " The fault, if there be uiiy, is all mine, sir," said the colonel, pressing him down into his seat. "1 would not have lost the animated description you have just given me, uttered as it was in such perfect frankness, for any cjnsideration, 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 mo anything more that occurs to you about this remarkable contest." This appeal, uttered in all the case of a well-bred manner, was quite unsuccessful. Mr. Crow sat perfectly horrified with himself, endeavouring to remember what possible extent of olTence ho might have been betrayed into by his narrative. As for Nelligan, his shame and confusion were even greater still, and he sat gazing rue- fully 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, ho 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 monent that I am offended. In the first place, j-our friend was the bearer of very pleasant tidings, for Jack has not condescended to write to mc 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 un- willing to include you in this category, when will you come and see me r' 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 Chaucellor, and on Friday I dine with AN AWirU'ARD VISITOR. 285 his Excellency. Will Saturday suit you ? " asked ilio colonel. " Yes, sir, perfectly ; with much pleasure," answered Kelligan. " 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 didn't you pull me up short before 1 made a beast of myself ? " _ " How could I ? You I'ushed along like a swollen river. You were so full of your blessed subject that you wouldn'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 con- stituency 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, 286 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. Eiif^lish blarney goes further ^vitll 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 wo are, besides, so accustomed always to be humbugged with a brogue, that wo fancy ourselves safe when wo 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 wasn't it a piece of good luck that I didn'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 Nclligan, as he pai'ted with him at the door. And Simmy, having pledged himself to be punctual, hurried oif to keep his dinner appointment. 287 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-break- fast — 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 domes- tics. They had given dinners, and suppers, and balls, and pic-nics. They had lavished all the flatteries of attentions on their rude neighbours. 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 colour of friend- ship 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 288 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. tlinn slio holievc'il it possible could have been eflTcctcd in ten years. Let us l)e just, and add that my lady had taken tho phrase bodily out of her French vocabulary, and in her ardour applied it with its native signification: tliat is, she alluded to the sad consequences of associa- tion with underbred company, and not by any means to any inroads made upon her sense of honour and high principle. Still, whatever pangs tho sacrifice was costing within, it must be owned that no signs of them displayed them- selves 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 contamina- tion with disappointment. In her capacity of head of the administration, Lady Dorothea had assumed the whole guidance of this con- test. With !Miss Henderson as her pi-ivate secretary, she had corresponded, and plotted, and bribed, and intrigued to any extent ; and although Kepton was frequently sum- moned to a council, his advice was very rarely, if ever, adopted. Her ladyship's happy phi'ase — " one ought to know their own borough people better than a stranger" — usually decided every vexed question in favour 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 " intinitely 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 A DAY "after." 289 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 opportu- nity 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 exer- tions 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 lady- ship'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 per- fection, 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, anno3'ance — disgust I would call it — are far more wearing than mere labour. 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 let- ters, wherein the thought is so embellished by the grace of expression that there is a perpetual semblance of origi- nality, without that strain upon the comprehension that real novelty exacts. She read, too, with consummate skill. To all the iiatural gifts of voice and utterance she VOL. I, U 290 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. added a most perfect taste, and tliat nicely suLducd dra- matic feeling wliicli 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 ueighbourliood. What was the name of the odious little woman that alwaj"* 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 mc, 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 colour of her cheek betrayed the various emotions which moved her. " I really fancy that Mies Martin liked the atrocious A DAY "after." 291 creatures we have received here the past week ; she cer- tainly 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 requii-ements of her position, she is ]\liss 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. Reptou, indeed, had much to say to it. He is so indiscreet — eh, don't you think so ? " " He is vei'y 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 io 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 Lai)y Dorothea's coun- D 2 292 THE mahtins of cno' jiartin. tcnanco prow sadcler niul more clouded as she sat in moody silenco. At length a faint tinge of colour 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 bo for them to proclaim peace on the day they've gained a victory. And Miss Martin also must lean) that her Universal Benevolence scheme must give way to the demands of a just retribution, ilave you made out tho 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 eye-glass. " Not all, my lady ; here, for instance, is Dick Sheehan, tho blacksmith, who has worked for the Castle twenty- eight years, and who holds a farm called Mullanahogue 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, inter- rupting 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." " Mv. 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. Magcnnis, 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 inso- lence — the unparalleled insolence — afterwards to address Miss Martin, as she sat beside me ia the carriage, and tQ A DAY "aftek." 293 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 Libei-al 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 advo- cate. 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 con- dition 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 honourable dealing is a low one ; but of the fact itself you may rest assured. They are treach- erous, and they are vindictive!" "Ennis Cafferty, my lady, who lives at Broguestown," said Kate, reading from the list, " sends a petition to your 21)4 TUE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. ladyship, entreating forgiveness if lie bIiouIJ have done anything to cause displeasure to tlio family." " What (//(/ ho do ? that ia tlio question." " Ho carried a banner inscribed ' Down witli Mono- poly ! '" "Mark liini 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 j^olcetical opinions." " Very true, sir — very just ; you comprehend your station," replied she, proudly. "And now to my demand. AVlio are the heads of this revolt? — for it is a revolt ! " " It's nae sa much a revolt, my leddy," rejoined ho, slowly and respectfully, " as the sure and certain con- sequence 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, A DAY "after." 295 this amelearating the condition of tlie small farmer — this raising the mox'al standard o' 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 reflaction 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 mightn'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 measui'es 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, Hen- derson, to impress me with the worst suspicions of your- self ! " 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 29G THE mahtins op cro' martin. burduu of every song is arrears of rent; and now I am told that the tenantry arc so prosperous that they can aflbrd to defy their hmdlord. Explain this, sir! " Before Mr. Henderson liad completed that hesitating process which with him was the prelude to an answer, the door opened, and ^fary Martin entered. She was in a riding-dress, and bore the traces of tho road on her splashed costume; but her features were paler than usual, and her lip quivered as slie 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 bo true — but it cannot be truo — however, the poor creatures there believe it — that they are to be discharged from work, and no more employment given at the quarries. You haven't seen them, dear aunt — you haven't beheld them, as I did this morning — stand- ing panic-stricken around the scene of their once labour, not speaking, scai'cely 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 haven'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 natuial protectors. Henderson knows that the worst mobs in the borousfh were from this very district." "Let him give the names of those he alludes to. Let him tell me ten — five — a}', 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 tliese you speak of ? " Kate Henderson, who sat Avith bent-down head during this speech, contrived to stsiil a glance at the speaker so A DAY "after." 297 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." " 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 feai' — that there is no thought of withdrawing from them their labour 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 pi'operty." " Starvation and crimfi 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 '203 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. unroofing tlicni, or sonictliing of that kind, and then they ■were to emigrate — I forget where — to America, I bclievo — and become excellent people, hard-working and quiet. I know it all soundud plausible and nice ; tell Miss Martin your scheme, and if it doss 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, haughtil}'. "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 grey 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, ad- dressing herself to Henderson, Avho had asked some question in a low "whisper. " They're cottiers all ; they require no delays of law, and 1 insist upon it peremp- torily." " Not till my uncle hears of it ! " exclaimed Mary, passionately. "A cruel "OTong like this shall not be done in mad haste." And with these words, uttered in all tho vehemence of great excitement, she rushed from the room in search of Martin. 00 CHAPTER XXIII A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER. It may save the reader some time, and relieve Lim 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 sigli of deprecation with which you hear all this. Worse again, I don't seek to defend myself. 1 think my case a bad one ; but still I feel there is something to be said in mitia.-ation. 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 haven't we a good wholesome word of our own for a home-made article ? I Jiave deserted the ranks where, whatever fortune befell, it was honour 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 haven't already addressed to myself. I feel all the indignity of my situation — I experience all the insult of their companion- sViip ; 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 800 THE MATITINS OF CRO* MAHTTN. to you about tluir piiiicijilcs — still less do I say anything of my own — but mert'ly advert bcrc to the miserable com- promise a gentleman is driven to make with every senti- ment of his nature wlio 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 ofTensive by the contact with their coarse natures. Now, my friends, the Liberals, are some- what 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 Lis honesty in a cause; but then, Harry, the struggle over, it is sorry work to become their companion and their friend ! Oh ! if you bad 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 whisky-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 me — 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 A CHABACTEKISTIC LEITEK. 301 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'Conuell said. The opportuuit}' 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 bari-ier 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 shall share in determining the actions of mankind ! " And now, Hax-ry, 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 802 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. to laugh at, eccentricities (o quiz, an old lawyer to sharpen one's wits upon, and a governess — such a gover- ness — to flirt with ! Don't mistake me, Hitrry ; it was not one of those hand-pressing, downcast-gazing, low-speak- ing cases in which you are sucli 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 laboured to obtain information — secret informa- tion — 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 favour 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 w'ith 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, A CHAEACTERISTIC LETTER. 303 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 mush- rooms that grow on the earth beneath, but hang me, Harry, if the agarics didn'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 1 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 embar- rass 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 freel}', 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 Seci'etary but answer one-half of my appeals. Gal- way — or at least that small portion of it called Oughterard — 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 enti'eaties, perse- cuted with vulgar attentions, bored to death by tlie insolent familiarity of people I cannot — do all that I 801 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. will -^Tow intiiniite with ; and yet I stay on, pretexting this, that, and t'other to myself, and shriukinj^^ even to my own heart to avow the real reason of my delay ! "1 want once again, if only- for a few moments, to sec her. I want to try if h)- any inijenuity I could discover the mystery of her conduct with rej^ard to myself; and I want also, if there should ho the need to do so, to justify to her eyes many thin^js wliich I have been forced by circumstances to do in this contest. " I have not the slifrhtest suspicion as to how she views all that has occurred here. Two notes which I addressed to her, very respectful, business-like epistles, have not been answered, though I entreated for a few words to acknowledge their receipt. The Martins, since the elec- tion, seem to have quarantined the whole town and neighboui'hood. 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, short-sighted, as it has called into an exaggerated importance all that small fry — like the Nelli- gans — 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 moun- tains, 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 there- fore 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 1 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 A CHAEACTERISTIC LETTER. 805 jofc 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 colours 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 dai-kness 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 molton gold and amber. The dark clifis 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 splendour! 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 tinlike 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 etinui — I got through four days in these pur- VOL. I. X 306 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. suits, and then I took boat, and for llirce nioro I paddled about the coast, dipiting in amongst the cliil'sand 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, suflering a 'sea change' over myself and my spirit as unearthlike as well may bo imagined ; and at last I bethought mc of my new opening career, and all that I ought to bo 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 Tory-like ; it smacks of the day when people received their representative thankfully, as an alms, and your great proprietor created his noniinec as the consul ennobled his horse ! " iievolviug very high thoughts, reciting Edmund Burke's grandest perorations, and picturing very vividly before mc the stunning triumphs of my own eloquence in the House, I plodded along, this time at least wonderfully iudiifcreut 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 I You, Harry, have contrived, some way or other, to have had a very rose-coloured 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 bo shot. Burgundy to be drunk, or young ladies to be married — for you are a good shot, a good wine- taster, and a good i^arti — with such gifts, I say, it will be very difiicult to evoke your sympathy on the score of a misfortune which no effort of your imagi- nation could compass. In fact, to ask you to feel what I & CHARACTERISTIC LETTER. 307 did, as I found myself walking along ontsideof those grounds loitliin 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 knowu 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 veiy 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 i^oad, 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 j-ou with any new detail of the locality, but I con- fess, 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 i-emember 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, X 2 308 TUE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. they tell me, but lic'U be back in a day or two, and there's nobod}- he'd bo so glud to see as yourself when he comes.* In the world, Ilarry — that is, in your world and mine — such a proposition as Joan's would have it3 share of embarrassments. Construe it how one mii^ht, there would be at least some awkwardness in accept inpj such hospitality. So 1 certainly felt it, and, as we walkecl 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 tho short cut by Kell ^lills to a young lady that was here.' " 'A visitor, Mrs. Joan?" *' ' Yes. But to be sure you know her yourself, for yon carac with her the day she walked part of the way back with mc from Cro' Martin.' " ' Jliss Henderson ? ' " 'Maybe that's her name. She only told me to call her Kate.' *' ' Was she hero 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 moun- tain at speed, and hurried onward in the direction sho 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 ardour ever could excite, Avould have been somewhat astonished had you seen the reckless, headlong pace at which I went — vault- ing over gates, clearing fences, and dashing through Bwamps, without ever a moment's hesitation. Picture to A CHAEACTERISTIC LETTER. 309 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 sud- denly 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. 1^0, 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, fol- lowed 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 / 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 representa- tive 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 810 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. in)-self that I owed my success entirely and solely to your cftbrts.' " ' Tou arc jcstinc^, ^fr. !^^aRs^ngb^ed,' 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 mo 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 tho price of my worthily adopt- ing it ! ' " ' I remember tho 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, Massing- bred,' said she, hurriedly. ' AVhat 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 ray future road in life ; you made mo 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.' A CHAKACTERISTIC LETTER. 311 " ' Are you quite satisfied with you, yourself, sir ? ' said slie, interrupting me. " ' No,' said I ; ' so little am I so, tliat 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 un- derbred 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 ? ' «" 1^0 ! ' " ' 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 neighbourhood to be deprived of its chief ornament — the people of their best friend — ^just for 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 involun- tarily. "'Avec les circonstances attenuantes,' said she, smiling again. " 'How so? — what do you mean ? ' 811i THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. " * Why, that my lady is thankful at heart for a good excuse to got away — such a pretext as Mr. Martin him- Kclf caunot oppose. Kepton, the Grand Vizier, counsels economy, and, like all untravelled people, fancies Franco and Italy cheap to live in ; and ]\Iiss ]\Iary is, perliaps, not sorry with the prospect of the uncontrolled managcmeut 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. Massing, bred, that I have, not over-discreetly, perhaps, adventured to talk of family arrangements to a stranger, will you frankly acknowledge 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 neighbourhood, 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 A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER. 813 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 ardour of which I cannot convey an impression, much less explain — one of those moments of rhapsody, youd call it — poured forth a warm declaration of love. Aye, Harry, sincere, devoted love ! — a passion which, in mastering all the common promptings of mero 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 I Kate,' cried I " ' Sir,' said she, drawing herself proudly up, * you are continuing the parallel too far.' " ' But Miss Henderson cannot for a moment be- lieve ' " ' 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, eao-erly. ' 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 gratef^ul even in her misery. But I should not do so. I am one of those who think that the cruellest share in a mesalliance is that of the humbler victim. To brave 314 TnE MATiTiNs OF cno* MAnilN. such a fate, there shoukl bo 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 tlic superiority over others of him from whom wo accept our inieriority. 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, j\[r. IMassingbrcd ; and perhaps the day is not vei*y distant wlien you will laugh heartily at your- self 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 ! Kor 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, A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER. 315 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." 816 TUE MAKTINS OF Clio' MARTIN. Cn AFTER XXIV. TnnEK C0ACUE3 AND THEIR COMPANT. TriREE large and stately travelling-carriages, licavily laden, and surrounded \\k\\ all the appliances for com- fort possible, rolled from under the arched gateway of Cro' ^lartin. 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. ^lartin sat back in the carriage in silence. " Twenty minutes after eight," exclaimed Lady Doro- thea, looking at her watch. " It is always the case ; one never can get away in time." Roused 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 ju«t 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, testil}-. "No — no!" exclaimed ho, repeating the word after her ; " not come back here ! " " There is nothing to prevent us if we should feel dis- posed to do so," replied she, calmly. " 1 only observed that one could face the alternative with a good courage. The twenty years we have passed in this spot are repre- sented io your mind by more leafy trees and better timber. To me they are written in the dreary memory of a joyless THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 817 tvreary existence. I detest the place," cried she, passiou- ately, " 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 resolu- tions 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 ovei'heard. " I don't think so, sir," cried she, catching up his words, " if only as our protest against the insolence and ingratitude of this neighbourhood — 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 lady- ship ; " but she is really suited to this kind of life, and perfectly unfit for any other, and I have no doubt she 318 THE MARTINS OF CHO* MARTIN. and Catty Bioon •svill 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 tho thought of such allection. " And, after all," said he, half involuntarily, " our absence will bo less felt so long aa Molly stays beliind." " If you mean by that, Mr. ^Martin, that tho same system of wasteful expenditui-e is still to continue — this universal employment scheme — I can only say I dis- tinctly and flatly declare against it. Even llepton — and I'm sure he's no ally of mine — agrees with me in pro- nouncing 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 pi'esent standard ; but I would be curious to know why there is such a thing as an establish- ment at Cro' ]\larlin ? " " Properly speaking there is none," said Martin. "Repton 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 bounds! I really never heard tho like ! " " Poor Molly ! It was her greatest pleasure — I may say her only amusement iu life. But she wouldn't hear THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 819 of keeping them; and wlien Repton tried to persuade her " " Eepton's an old fool — he's worse, he's downright dis- honest — 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, v.-ith more firmness than he liad 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 Hender- son — 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 I'ank 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 pro- ceeded 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, 320 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTlM. and know nothing of the connlry or its people. Ho tried tlio sulijcct of foreign travel, liiit his own solitary trip to Paris and Brussels nfTorded 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 hut discover it," said ho to himself. " It is not personal vanity, that I see. She does not want to bo thought clever, nor even eccentric ; — which is the gover- ness failing ^;r//- excellence ; what then can it be ? " With all his ingenuity ho could not discover! Sho would talk, and talk well, on any theme he start(;d, 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 suffi- cient semblance of interest, but if he were silent, sho 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 liUle," 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 yon now admit that there may be a diderence." '' I have never found in reality," said she, "that theso dilferences were appreciable." "How is it that one so young should be so — so philo- sophic ? "said he, after a hesitation. " Had you asked me that question in French, Mr. Eepton, the language would have come so pleasantly to your aid, and spared you the awkwardness of employing a grand ])hr;ise for a small qualit}- ; 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 armour as much, nay more, against Battery than against sarcasm. If, in the course of time, this habit render one ungenial and uncompanionable, pray be lenient 1:hree coaches and their company. 521 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, gaily, " for Mr. Uepton 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, 1 could never have shown the same for- bearance 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, colouring 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 VOL. I. Y 322 THE mahtins of cro' mahtin. and say, tlio only one \Yho 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 llepton, with an embarrassment that increased at every word. " We all took lire from the great blaze beside us just then ; but, my dear young lady, the llarae has died out — very fortunately too — for if it hadn't it would have burned us up with it. We were wrong — wrong with Burke, to be sure — Errare Platonc 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 I'rom mistaking the symptoms of disease for the effects of medicine. You set out by declar- ing 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 prin- ciples 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 (ho French Revo- lution is sure of its accomplishment. Wc shall very pro- bably not do the thing in the same way, but it will bo 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 Con- stituent ! " " But sec ; look at Franco 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 consti'ucts 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 nolnlity just as they do on a stage procession, and criticize it in the same spirit. They endure it so long as their indolence or their THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 323 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." " Tou 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-boi*n, 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 give them. You'll hear very good socialism from the lips of dukes and princesses who swear by Fourrier." 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 Avhich imparted to her features a character of boldness and determination, such as he bad 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 i-ight 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? " Y 2 824 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIM. *' As for mc, sir, I only saw the procession from iho •window. I may, perhaps, walk in it when I dc send to the street; but really," added she, laughing, " tliis is wandering very far out of the record. 1 had promised myself to captivate Mr. Kci)ton, and hero 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 Rcpton, 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 1 ever tell you of what Harry Parsons said to Macnatty when he purposed visiting Prance, after the peace of '15? 'Now is the time to see the Prench cajiital,' 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 bis stores of wit and repartee. Thus, they, too, went onf their journey! The third carriage contained Madame Hortense, Lady Dorothea's Prench maid j Mrs. Runt, an inferior dignitary of the toilet; and Mark Peddar, Mr. Martin's "gentle- man " — a party which, we are forced to own, seemed to combine more elements of sociality than were gathered together in the vehicles that preceded tlicra. To t/ieir 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 THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 325 not all its pleasures, all its associations, more essentially adapted to such natures ; and has solitude one siuo-le 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 favourite 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 sui'o 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, pro- visoiremenf, to come to Ireland, but with a promise of travel abroad ; that we live in Paris, liome, Naples — que sais-je ? I accept — I arrive — et vie void ! " And made- moiselle 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 Peddai', 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'sello 326 TUE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. — ii I'ellow who has sccu life — to guide aud bring her out, ti'ust me there are excellent capabilities in that girl." Aud as ilr. Peddar enunciated the sentiment, his hands ran carelessly through his hair, aud performed a kind of impromptu toilet. " She do dress herself hien mal.'" '• Disgracefully so," chimed in Mrs. Runt. " I believe, whenever she bouglit 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. " All contraire — she like to make the contrast more strong ; she always seek to make say — ' Regardez^ made- moiselle, see what a tourmive is there ! '" " Do you think her handsome, Mr. Peddar ? " asked Mrs. Runt. " Handsome, yes : but not mt/ style — not one of what / 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; " haught}-, rather — a kind of don't-think-to-come-it-on-me style of look, eh ? " " Not at all amiable — point He ce/a," exclaimed mam'selle ; " but still, I will say, ires Ion rjcnre. You see at a glance that she has seen la bonne socieleV " 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 1 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 ^Irs. Runt, looking out at the distant landscape. " That horrid old Mother Broon won't say so," said THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 327 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.' Fas mal for such a crmiure.'^ " I didn'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 evei'ything. I felt nous soimnes 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 N'aps. per diem for n\y 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 the}^ travelled the same road as their betters, and perhaps with lighter hearts. 328 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. CHAPTER XXV. A COUNTRY AVCTI05. WiTU fcclinc^s akin to those with which tho popnlaco of a revolted city invado the once sacred edifice of tho deposed prince, the whole town and neighbourhood of Out^hterard 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 wliich they separated them- selves from the neighbourhood around, had imparted to Cro' Martin a kind of dreamy splendour 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 ncihgbourhoods 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 tho 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. Tl;o visitor wanders amidst objects which have occupied years in collection ; some, the results of con- siderable research and difficulty ; some, the long-coveted acquisitions of half a life-time ; and some — we have known such — the fond gifts of friendship. There they are now A COUNTRY AUCTION. 329 side by side in the catalogue, their private histories no more suspected than those of them who lie grass-covered in the churchyai'd. You admire that highly-bred hunter in all the beauty of his symmetry and his strength, but you never think of the "little Sbelty " in the next stable with shaggy mane and flowing tail ; and yet it was on lihn the young heir used to ride ; he was the cherished animal of all the stud, led in beside the bi'eakfast-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 teai'S did they behold that pony! So, amidst the triumphs of colour and design that grace the walls, you have no eyes for a little sketch in water-colour — 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 begruiled 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 bi'eezy, cloud-flitting days, with flashes of gay sunlight alternating with broad shadows, and giving in the tamest landscape evei-y 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 830 TUE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN. lomu state of their households alone, :iud were buried 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 carringes 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 — v/ood, 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 per- verseness 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, drily. "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 wouldn't be opened." " That's a great disappointment ! " exclaimed Bodkin. A COUNTEY AUCTION. 331 A sentiment fully concurred in by the ladies, avIio 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, endeavouring 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 ISTelligan ; " 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 couldn't be expected to enter- tain 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 doesn'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 WelHgan, in a half whisper, " if they can find a tenant for it. Henderson told Father Maher that, come what might, her ladyship would never come back here." 332 THE MARTINS OP CRO* I\rARTIN. " Faix! ihc only one of them worth a groat was Miss Mary, and I suppose they didn't leave her the means to do much now." " 'Tis slic must have the heavy heart to-day," sighed Mrs. Nelligrtn. " And it is only fair and reasonable she should have her share of troubles, like the rest of us," replied ^Irs. Clinch. *' When Clinch was removed from IMacroon we had to sell otr every stick and stone we had; and as the neigh- bouis 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. " ^yhat'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 feel- ings really overpowered utterance. " I dont' see any great hardship in this after all, ma'am," said Nelligan, " for we know if the family w'ere 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 court-yard, 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 A COUNTRY AUCTION. 383 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 ho 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 jieople of every class, from the small squire to the Oughterard shopkeeper and country fi^rmer, 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 ijartitions 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 occu- pied this luxurious abode, went far to disarm this criticism, since certainly none ever seemed more worthy of the state and splendour 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 advertized in Bell's Lifer " "What becomes of the hounds ? " asked Bodkin. "Lord Cromore takes them, sir; they're to hunt in Dorsetshire." "And the sow?" a.sked old Hayes, with eagerness; " she isn't to go to England, is she ? " 834 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. " Can't say, sir. Wc don't look artcr 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 f^avo 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 securiner 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 man- sion. While in her distraction to think what course was best to take, she saw a groom standing at the head of a small pony, hai'nessed to a diminutive carriage, and hastily approached him. Before, however, she had attained "witliin 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 A COUNTRY AUCTION. 335 her indifferent to all reproof, and in spite of gestures and admonitions to retire steadily advanced towards tlie 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 teai's, started up and approached her. Mrs. Nelligan felfc a sense of sickly faintness come over her, and had to grasp the window for support. •' Oh, ray dear young lady! " she muttered, "I didn'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 Maiy, taking her hand cordially, and lead- ing 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 embarrass- ment, 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 ofl' 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 ofi'! " "It is sad enough," said Maiy, smiling thi'ough her tears. " IsTot to say that you're left here all alone, just as if you weren'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 prob- ably stay there till all this confusion be over." 33G TIIK MARTINS OF CRo' MARXm. "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 mo 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 vou'll die of the loncli- ness ! " " 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. Nelligau. It is the only time I can spare for reading; they will be my hours of recreation and amuse- ment." " Well, well, I hope so, with all my heart," said she, doubtingl}'. "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' ^lartin ! " exclaimed Mrs. Xelligan, 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 honour 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 A COUNTnY AUCTION. 337 if it wasn't that be 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 fright- ened 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 Mi's. Kelligau, 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 Oughtei'ard — 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 : " Nelli- gan offers seventy pounds for the two black horses. Is he to have them ? Sir Peter shows an incipient VOL. I. Z 838 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAHTIN. Bpnviu oil the oil" log, and I tliiuk he'd be well sold." " Tell Mr. Scanlan I'll send him au 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 ]\Ir. Nelligan I wish to speak to him," said she, resuming her place on tho 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 learn- ing 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 labours, 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 Ihat 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 ]\Iiss Martin's greeting, starting with amazement as he per- ceived 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 agieeable 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 A COUNTRY AUCTION. 339 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. " All, my dear young lady, why wouldn'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 ofibr, 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. "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 favour 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 labouring 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 some- thing 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. AVe're of the same country — have passed our lives amidst the same scenes, the same events, and the z 2 840 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. same people — ami it will bo hard if wo cannot as easily discover topics for mutual esteem, as suljjccts of diiYcrenco and disagreement," " But will it not be hinted, ]\Iiss Martin, that we took the ojiportunity of your solitude here to impose aa acquaintanceship which had been impossible under other circumstances? " " If you are too 'proud, sir, to know rac — lest an ungenerous sneer should daniajTe your self-esteem " " Indeed, indeed we're not," broke in I\Irs. Nelligan. " You don't know Dan at all. He wouldn't exchange tho honour of sitting there, opposite you, to be High Shcrifl"." A servant fortunately presented himself at this awk- Avard moment with a whispered message for Miss Martin; to which she replied aloud, — "Of course. Tell Mr. Scaulan it is my wish — my orders," added she, more firmly. " Tho house is open to any one who desires to see it. And now, before I go, ISIr. Kelligan, 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 sliall 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 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 couldn't so suddenly rout all the sentiments of a lifetime ! Ay, ay," added he, still to himself, " we may pull them down — we may liumble them — but we'll never fill their places! " "And we're to see the house, it seems!" exclaimed Mrs. Nelligan, gathering her shawl ai-ound her. " I don't care to look at it till she herself is here I " said A COUNTRY AUCTION. 341 old Nelligan, takiug 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 hira. Nelligan nodded. " You've got a cheap pair of nags, and as good as gold," con- tinued he. A dry half smile was all the repl}-. " Mr. ^Martin bred them himself," Scaulan went on, " and no pi'ice 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 Nelli- gan. 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 betraj-ed myself? " No, Maurice Scanlan. Be of good cheer, your secret is safe. No one has as much as the very barest sus- picion 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 1 8-12 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. CHAPTER XXVL OuKS is a very pvncticrxl 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 tins condition attend him, his actions meet charitable construction — his doings are all favourably regarded ; and while his capacity is ex- tolled, even his shortcomings are extenuated. We dread an unlucky man ! There is a kind of contagion in cala- mity, and we shun him as tliough he were plague- stricken 1 But with what flatteries we greet the success- ful 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, inca- pable 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 *' REVERSES." 313 greatest of all moralists warns us against putting confi- dence in princes ; and how doubly truthful is the adage when extended to viceroys! Small as was the borouHi 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 mis- managed everything. They had gone to work in the old Tory cut-and-thrust fashion of former days — conci- liated 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 Excel- lency " 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 344 TnE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. Bmilcd concurrence to it, while Martin carelessly re- marked, " From all that I sec, wo may enjoy the same pleasure very often." Never was the ohl lawyer so dis- agreeable when exerting hiniselt" 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 rumours and the chit-chat of society, ho went on to speak of the viceregal court and its festivi- ties. *' 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 atten- tion, it reminds you of the hideous spectacle of a glass of water as seen through a magnifier — you detect a minia- ture world of monsters and deformities, all warring and worrying each other." And with this flattering exposi- tion 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. IMartin 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 sub- dued 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 " REVERSES." 345 enei'gy 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 per- mitted them." " But they are mistaken, nevertheless. There ai'c •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, mourn- fully. " Come, come, I trust you will. I hope to pass some pleasant days with you there ere I die," said Repton, cheeringly. " Indeed, until you are thei-e 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, gaily. " Ay, Repton," said the other, pursuing his own thoughts and not heeding the interruption, " and ^oit 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 81G THE MARTrNS OF CHO' MARTIN. wfxs unfairly dcrilt with — that when believing ho was sacrificing to aflcction and brotherly love he was made a dupe and a fool of " "Be cautious, Martin; speak lower — remember where you are," said Ivepton, 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, c^enerous source that feeds everj'- impulse of his life — would supply the force of a torrent to his passion ; be'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 yonr oicn 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 wouldn't care for, couldn't com- prehend." " 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, "wo 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." ** REVERSKS.'* 347 " 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 ! AVhy, if you did, what should be done by those who really do travel the shady side of existence — who are weighted Avith debt, bowed down with daily difficulties, crippled with that penury that cats 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 Avith 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 wouldn'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 i*ead 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 favour 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 honour to remain, madam, ** * With every consideration, yours, " * Lawrence Belcoub, A.D.C " « With every consideration ! ' " repeated Repton. "Confound the jpuppy, and his Frenchified phraseology. 848 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. "Wliy is he not, as he ought to be, your obedient servant ? " '■ It is a somewhat cold and formal invitation," said ^riirtin, slowly. "I'll just sec 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, Kepton," said he, filling and drink- ing otl' 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. AVe are offended, almost outraged, but still we're to submit. Ah, Kepton, 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 facul- ties!" " I will take your word for it, Martin. I think you do tt T>r'TTT'T)eT;. I. B B 370 THE MARTINS OF CRO» MARTIN. life. I wish to raise a certain amount of this, by way of loan — say a thousand pounds. Will this bo easily accom- plished ? " " What's the amount of the settlement, miss ? " said Scanlan, with moic eagerness than was quite disintc- ested. ** Five thousand pounds. There is the deed." And she pushed a parchment towards him. Scanlan ran his practised eye rapidly over the docu- ment, and with the quick craft of his calling saw it was all correct. " One or even two thousand can V)c 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 diminu- tion of the sum to be spent in wages, and a strict eco- nomy 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 harbour at Kilkieran and the new schoolhouse at Ternagh were to be completed; and, if money could be spared lor it, ho gave me leave to build a little hospital at the cross-roads, allowing forty pounds additional salary to Doctor Cloves for his attendance. These are the chief points ; but yon 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 undei'stood perfectly all he wished. Almost his last words to me at parting were, * As little change as possible, ^lolly. 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 teai'S to her eyes, and she turned her head away in silence. " Now," said she, rallying, and speaking with renewed SCANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE. 37 1 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, school- houses 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 yon 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 Hender- son — has reached me, in which, however, there is no allusion to the propert}', 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 ejDistle, 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 townlauds 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 ; every- thing 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. Eepton 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 B B 2 872 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MART IN, could give pain that had noi then its place in her heart. Commiseration, deep pity for the sorrows she was to wit- ness unavailinj^ly, wounded pride, insulted self-esteem — all were there! And she turned away to hide the crao- tions 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 bo 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 miseral^ly 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 rest- ing-place — of the poor, who are to be friendless — of the Buiieriug, 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 ! " AVhile 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 atti- tude 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 SOANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE. 373 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 yoH. any counsel to give me — any advice ? " " It is just what I have not, miss," said he, despond- ingly ; " 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 every- thing, 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 874 THE MARTINS OP CKO' MARTIN. was most considerate. Such a ccnsuro would augment every difficulty. " I felt that, miss. What I said to myself was, ' My successor will neither know the placo nor the people ; he'll be cruel where ho ought to have mercy, and spare those that he ought to keep to their duty.' It isn't in a day nor a week tliat a man learns the habits of a largo tenantry, nor was it without labour and pains that I acquired my present influence amongst them," " Quito true," said she ; but more as though following out her own reflections than hearing his. "They'll have you, however," said Scanlan. " low, 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 oil 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 wo 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 com- pact 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 ! Witli all the solemnity of a vow he bound himself to stay; SCANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE. 375 and Maiy thanked him with the fervour 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 havina: 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. 876 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. CHArTER XXIX. A SUNDAY MORNIJJQ AT CRO' MAIITI5. NoTiriNO 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 dis- cussed it polemically, politically, socially, and arithmeti- cally ; and there it is still, left to the judgment of each, as his religion, bis 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 peacefulness 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 littlo Hock, who, like a brave garrison in a besieged land, hold manfully together round the banner of their Faith ! IIow striking is this in remote parts of the country, where the relurmed religion has made little progress, and its followers are few in number. It was Sunday: the gates of Cro' I^Fartin 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 sen'ants 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 ceremonious- ness of speech and demeanour were ordained as the be- coming recognition of the holy day. Trained to thcso A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN. 377 observances by many a year, IMary could scarcely com- prehend 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 per- fume of the new hay floated through the thin air, with the odour 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 prayei\ There was a delicious sense of repose in the stillness around, telling how, amid the cares and con- tentions 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 overall 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 liow 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 ! Bat for objects not worth the attaining — ambitions of no value wben won — and my uncle might still be here, strolling along, pei'haps, 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 ap- pearance 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 per- 378 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN. fectly to tliomsclvcs: between the society of the Castle anil that of the firincr.s around there was no iiiterrni'diate territory, anil thus they passed their lives in a little circle of home duties and atlections, 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 demeanour. 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 fur 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 mis- took it for a friendship. Doctor 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 em- barrassment. " Papa has been sent for to Knocktiernan, Miss Martin. They're afraid that a case of cholera has oc- curred there." "j\lay 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." A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN. 379 " Have you heard who it is is ill ? " " Simon Hanley, the carpentei', 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 vei'y brain, and she could only mutter — " I'm sorry I didn'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 church- yard, 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-paunelled, 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 reve- rent 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 880 TOE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. fjave n deopei' meaning to «11 ho said, and imparted to the faltering words of liis 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 ollor you my arm ? " "Willingly, my dear Mi.s.s 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 camo round by the avenue — a distance of two miles 't "' cried she, deep crimson with shame. "And kept you all waiting; but not very long, I trust," said he smiling benevolentlj'. " But come, talk to me of yourself, and when I am to come and see you." " Oh, my denr Doctor Leslie, you must not think that I —that my uncle — — " She stopped, and he pressed her hand gentl}-, 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 frco day with you ; or when shall I hope to find you at leisure?" "jMy 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 'Mnvy Martin display her real character. No longer carried away by the mere enthusiasm of her great power and her high station — not exalted to her.self by the Hatteries 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 ])urpose, even in failures; but I always felt, that to make these eflbrts react favourably on yourself, there should be something of sacrifice. To do good was a luxury to you ; and it was a luxury veiy easy to purchase. You were rich — you were powerful — none controlled you ; your benefits were acknowledged with all the enthusiasm A SUNDAY MOENING AT CRo' MARIIN. SSl 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 genei'ously, 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 Avisdom 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 crea- ture 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 andwhisperei 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, 882 THE MARTINS OP CRO* MARTIN. and witl) an ancctionate farewell tlicy parted, ho towarda the Vicarage, and she to re-enter the Castle. There is no need to practise mystery with our reader ; and he who had jnst arrived, and was ca^er to see Miss ^lartin, was only iMaurice Scanlan ! As little use is there also in denying the fact that Mury 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 per- mission to be admitted at all times, and there was no helii fcr it ! These simc people that one " must see," arc very ter- rible inflictions sometimes. They are ever present at the wrong time and the wrong place. They come i)i 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 ilaurice Scanlan. Thrust for- ward 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 Alaurice Scanlans of the Avorld, taken to suppose that he was really a very neces- sary and important ingredient in all affairs. He found, too, that his small cunning served to guide him, whei'O 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, ho 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 charac- teristics 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 favour was now his great endeavour; 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 A SUNDAY MORNING AT CEo' MARTIN. 383 who had accomplished his mission ei'e 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 lier, 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 aflfair. I didn'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 indiflTerence. Scanlan was uneasy — his heaviest artillery had opened no breach. What should be his next manoeuvi'e ? "The money-market is tight just now," said he, speaking only to gain time for further obsei'vation, " and there's worse times even before us." If Mary heard she did not notice this gloomy specu- lation. "I'm sm-e it will be no easy job to get the last Novem- ber 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. "1 find I can think of nothing — I am in ono of my idle moods." 384 THE MARTINS OF CRo' MARTIN'. "To be sure, why not, Miss ^Mary?" said lie evidently piqued nt the ill-suocess of all liis zeal. " It was I made a mislake. I fancied, someliow, you were anxious about tins little matter; but anotlier day will do as well — 'ivlicnevcr it's you own convenience." "You are always considerate, always good-natured, Mr. Scaiilan, " said she, with a vagueness that showed she was scarcely conscious of what slic uttered. *• If 1/ou 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 cfTort that made his face crimson. "Yes!" muttered she, not hearing one word of his speech. " So that I'll come over to-morrow," ]Mis3 Mary, broke he in. "Very well — to-morrow!" replied she, as still musing she turned to the window, no more thinking of the luck- less 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 i\[r. 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 discomfi- ture as so confident a spirit could well experience, mutter- ing, as he paced the corridor, certain prospective reprisals for this haughty indifference, when a certain tinie should anivo, and a cei't.'iin fair !ad} But wo hnve nn ricj'.t to pu-h his spccnl tions lurthtr th;in he himself indidgi-d them, and nn the present occasion Maui-ice was less san- guine thiin his wont. " I led tlie mare, sir," said Barnes, as he held the stirrup for Scanlan to mount. " And gave her water, too," said the attorney, doggedly. A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN. 385 "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. " Doesn'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 liglit and come down easy, she hasn'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 eaoh word a slow and solemn significance. Then, casting a keen glance all around and over him, added, " There's a splint on the ofi"-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 wouldn't. ' It's not in the way of the tendon,' says she. * It will never spoil his action, and we'll not blemish hina with a mark.' Them's her very words." VOL. I, C C 880 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. " He's i\ nico horse," said ScauLin, once more, as if the very parsimony of the praise was the hii^hest testi- mony of the utterer; "and in rare condition, too," added he. " In the very liif^hcst," said Barnes. " He was as suro of that cup as I an\ that my name's Tim." " What cup ? " asked Scanlan. "Kil-timniou — the June I'ace — he's entered and all — and now he's to be sold — them's the oi'ders I got ycstoi*- day — he's to be auctioned at Dycer's on Saturday for whatever he'll bring ! " "And now, what do j'ou expect for him, Barnes?" said ]\Iauricc, confidentially. " Sorrow one o' me knows. He might go for fifty — ho might go for two hundred and fifty ! and cheap he'd bo of it. He has racing speed over a flat course, and steeple-chase action for his fences. With eleven stone on his back — one that can ride, I mean, of course — he'd challenge all Ireland." " I wouldn'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 di'aw him for the race, for he'll win it as sure as I'm here. 'Tis Jemmy was to ride him ; and Miss Hilary wouldn't object to give you the boy, jacket and all, her own colours — blue, with white sleeves." " Do you think so, Barnes ? Do you think she'd let me run him in the Martin colours ? " 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 ?«