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 ~X-J-UKJ? KA/IM- 7.Mt!> OCA, L-X^^.-^'
 
 THE 
 
 MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN 
 
 Br 
 
 CHARLES LEVEE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "harry LORKEQUER," "THE KNIGHT OF GWYKNE,' 
 
 &C. &C. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY "PHIZ. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 MDCOCLVI.
 
 
 TO 
 
 THE REVEREND MORTIMER O'SULLIVAN, D.D. 
 
 If I have not asked your permission to dedicate this Volume to 
 you, it is because I would not involve you iu the responsibility of 
 any opinions even so light a production may contain, nor seek to 
 cover by a great name the sentiments and views of a very humble 
 one. 
 
 I cannot, however, deny myself the pleasure of inscribing to you a 
 book to which I have given much thought and labour — a testimony 
 of the deep and sincere affection of one, who has no higher pride than 
 in the honour of your friendsliip. 
 
 Ever sincerely yours, 
 
 CHAELES LEVEE. 
 
 Casa Capponi, Florence, 
 May, 1856. 
 
 558778 
 
 KSSERVjl
 
 
 f!gi;oTrJi LotafoT .1 
 
 Oils , •'.fiVMfl: 
 
 Buft I MtiT sldi bsii 
 
 9iil' .liji cf*s JOix 10 t?' 
 
 9YBi[ I jqof87er 
 
 tOlqosq eloifw c au ;.u:iio7.
 
 APOLOGY FOR A PREFACE. 
 
 I REMEMBER once haviug made the ascent of a moiiutaiu in Kil- 
 larney to see the sun rise, and watch the various effects the breaking 
 day should successively throw on the surrounding landscape. AVith 
 the sad fatality, however, so common to these regions, vast masses of 
 cloud and mist obscured every object. The lakes, the islands, the 
 woods, even the mountains themselves, were shrouded in this gloomy 
 mantle, and it was only at rare intervals that a ray of light, piercing 
 the darkness, afforded a fitful glance of a scene so full of picturesque 
 beauty. 
 
 My guide, however, with the instincts of his order, pointed through 
 the dim obscure to where Mangerton stood, the Turk Mountain, the 
 waterfall, and Mucruss Abbey, and with a glowing eloquence de- 
 scribed the features of the invisible landscape. 
 
 Shall I confess that now, as I have completed this Tale, I find 
 mj- self in a position somewhat resembling that of the guide ? The 
 various objects which I had hoped and promised myself to present 
 to my readers have been displayed faintly, feebly, or not at all. The 
 picture of a new social condition tliat I desired to develop, I have 
 barely sketched — the great political change worked on a whole people, 
 merely glanced at. 
 
 Perliaps my plan included intentions not perfectly compatible witli 
 fiction — perhaps the inability lay more with myself — mayhap both 
 causes have had their share in the failure. But so is it that now, my 
 task completed, I grieve to see how little opportunity I have had of
 
 VIU APOLOGY FOE A PREFACE. 
 
 dwelling on the great problem whieli first engaged me in the social 
 working of the Emancipation Bill of '29. 
 
 It was a subject over which I had long thought and pondered, and 
 in, I hope, a spirit of fairness and justice. Firmly feeling that the 
 great evils of Ireland were rather Social than Political, and strongly 
 impressed with the conviction that the remedy lay less in Legislative 
 enactment than in the growth of habits of mutual charity and good- 
 will, I have regarded the working of the Eelief Bill with intense in- 
 terest as its effects displayed themselves in the two opposite parties. 
 I have seen, or fancied I have seen, great mistakes on both sides — 
 golden opportunities of agreement neglected — happy coincidences of 
 feeling ignored ; and yet, with all this, a more generous, forbearing 
 tone has unquestionably succeeded ; and, if we have not reached the 
 happy goal of perfect concord, much of the bitterness of party has 
 been effaced — much of the rancour of old jealousies forgotten. 
 
 If I wished to evidence something of this, still more did I desire to 
 illustrate what might be done by a generous and kindly treatment of 
 the people, especially at the hands of those who thoroughly under- 
 stand and appreciate them, knowing well the complex web of their 
 intricate natures, and able to discriminate between the real and un- 
 real in their strangely involved characters. 
 
 In my Heroine — of whom I take this opportunity to say that all 
 the details are drawn from fiction — I have attempted this. I have 
 endeavoured to picture one whose own nature, deeply imbued with 
 the traits of country, could best appreciate the feelings of the people, 
 and more readily deal with sentiments to which her own heart was no 
 stranger. How inadequately, even to my own conception, I have 
 rendered this intention, I know and feel, and I have but once more to 
 repeat my entreaty for the kind indulgence of those friends whose 
 favour has for so many a year formed my happiness and my pride. 
 
 Let them at least believe that what I have written has been done 
 with a purpose; and if even a shadow of the intention manifests 
 itself in the performance, " The Martins of Cro' Martin" may not 
 have been written in vain. 
 
 C. L.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 Ceo' Martin 1 
 
 CHAPTER U, 
 KiLKiEKAN Bay 13 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 An Autumn Morning in the West 2G 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Maurice Scanlan, Attouney-at-Law 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. " ■ • 
 A Studio and an Artist 41 
 
 CHAPTER ^T[. 
 ADash or Politics 49 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 A College Competitor 55 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. .' ■ 
 Some Knotty Points that Puzzled Joe Nelligan — .■•• Go 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Martin Arms 77 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A Dinner-Party 86 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Young Nelligan as Interpreted in Two Ways 97
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 I y ;: ; ■/ ■■■ ,.- 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. TAGE 
 A VEKY " Cross Examination" ..v.;.At!i 108 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 "A Housekeeper's Room" 118 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A Fine Old Irish Barrister 129 
 
 ,-; / r.Tfff I/! 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 "A Ruined Fortune" 145 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 "A Challenge" 161 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A CoUNTRY-HoUSE 171 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Statecraft 134 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A Studio 193 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 An Election Address 206 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 An Awkward Visitor 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 A Day "After" 234 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 A Characteristic Letter 244 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Three Coaches AND THEIR Company 257 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 A Country Auction 266 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 "Reverses" ^^.,v 378
 
 CONTENTS. xi 
 
 CHAPTER XXVn. page 
 Darkening Fortunes 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXVm. 
 How Mr. Scanlan gives Scope to a Generous Impulse 296 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. r^Tftcj^j? h-wI n<n ^.^^.'^ a 
 A Sunday Morning at Cro' Martin 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. '-'■ ■ ■'' ■^- ^ , 
 IVIr. Herman Mere ; 314 
 
 CHAPTER XXXL '^ ' 
 
 Mr. Mere 321 
 
 CHAPTER XXXn. ' A 
 
 A Young Duchess and an Old Eriend 330 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. ^^ 
 
 A VERY GREAT FAVOUR 337 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. •*' - 
 
 A Letter FROM Home 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. - ■ ' ■ - > ' 
 Mr. Meel's Departure 353 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 The Club 360 
 
 -.r -r n r:i-rt>. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 An Evening of One op the "Three Days" 369 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. " , -^ a 
 Some Confessions of Jack Massingbred 3S5 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 Hpw Rogues agree ! 397 
 
 CHAPTER XL. A 
 
 Mr. JVIerl "At Fence" 40S 
 
 CHAPTER XL! • ^' 
 Mr. Meel's Meditations 417 
 
 h
 
 Hi CONTENTS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTEE XLII. page 
 A Night of Stokm 433 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 The End of a Bar Mess 433 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 A FiEST Brief 440 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 Mr. Repton looks in 449 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 Lady Dorothea's Letter 458 
 
 CHAPTER XLVn. 
 Mr. Mere's Experiences in the West 469 
 
 CHAPTER XLVin. 
 Mr, Merl's "Last" Irish Impression 477 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 Something not exactly Flirtation 481 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 Lady Dorothea 457 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 How Pride meets Pride 495 
 
 CHAPTER LIE 
 
 Maurice Scanlan advises with "His Counsel" 503 
 
 CHAPTER LIIL 
 A Consultation 513 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 A Compromise ^ 5]^g 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 A Letter that never reaches its Address 525 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 A very brief Inter\tew 535
 
 CONTENTS. Xm 
 
 CIIAPTEE LVII. PAGE 
 The Dakk Side of a Chakacter 537 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 The Cottage 545 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 " A Tea-Paety" at Mes, Ckonan's 553 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 The Bkannock Islands 560 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 A Letter from IVIassingbred 570 
 
 CHAPTER LXn. 
 A Dinner at "The Lodge" 577 
 
 CHAPTER LXni. 
 An Honoured Guest 585 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 How Diplomacy failed 594 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 A GREAT Discovery GOO 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 A Dark Day 611 
 
 CHAPTER LXVn. 
 Repton's Last Cause 61G 
 
 CHAPTER LXVni. 
 Towards the End 620
 
 LIST OF PLATES. 
 
 rKONTispiECE— Vignette Title. page 
 
 Mary Martin's Levee q 
 
 Mrs. Cronan's Evening 28 
 
 Maurice Scanlan, Attorney-at-Law 41 
 
 The Emperor Charles V, restores Art 42 
 
 A Market Day ijj 
 
 A DoleeulDitty 93 
 
 Clearing Out 2Q3 
 
 The New Road hq 
 
 Catching a Poacher 242 
 
 The Cracked Pate, or Balm oe Gilead 251 
 
 The Oughterard Figaro 263 
 
 The Cut Direct 273 
 
 Magic Touches 297 
 
 A Diplomatic Council discussing the Points 218 
 
 Simmy gives a graphic Description of a Canvass 229 
 
 Tenants Eight and Tenants Wrong 242 
 
 Mrs. Nelligan astonishes her Husband 275 
 
 The Sale 277 
 
 Sir Lucas 322 
 
 Mr. Herman Merl 329 
 
 The Introduction 333 
 
 A Young Duchess and an Old Priend 333 
 
 A Spill 355 
 
 A Rout 370 
 
 Morning Calls 4O3 
 
 The Sleeper" 406 
 
 Poor Margaret 425 
 
 Joan 429 
 
 Old Mat's last Resting-place 449 
 
 Mary Martin's Ball Practice 475 
 
 Something not exactly Eliktation 481 
 
 Pride meets Pride 497 
 
 The Sick Chamber 533 
 
 Kate Henderson at Home 543 
 
 Mrs. Cronan's Party 558 
 
 Joan with the Joyces 503 
 
 Mr. Merl comes to Grief 591 
 
 "My Daughter!" 624
 
 iNFur, Story of Ruintsd Greatness. — In Conne- 
 
 the Martins were lords of a principality, partly derived 
 an ancestor who went over with .Strongbow, and partly 
 )sorption of the lands of their feudal neighbour?. Dick 
 in, of the Cruelty to Animals Act, was one of their re- 
 ntativcs, and in his time those estates contained nearly 
 lOO statute acres, and extended almost uninterruptedly 
 the town of Oughterard to Clifdeu and Ciaggan bays, 
 ;ance of at least 30 miles. The grandfather of the last 
 ssor could boast to George IV. that " he had an approach 
 his gate house to his hall of .30 miles length." Nor was 
 reatcr part of these extensive domains exclusively waste, 
 
 or moorlands; the whole is iufinitively diversified with 
 , lakes,, rivers, and some portion of cultivated land, 
 ;h far below what the soil would naturally admit of. 
 
 and islands innumerable make a part of its pano- 
 , and are teeming with wild life and natural trea- 
 . The sea affords an abundant supply of manure 
 gricultural purposes, various parts are rich in blue 
 tone, and in the Twelve Pin Mountains are inexhaustible 
 •ies of marble. Yet Inimcnso as was the undeveloped 
 h of this estate, its improvident owners had so impo- 
 'led themselves by profuse hospitality, that when 
 trd Martin ceased to be returned to parliament he 
 fain to seek refuge from his creditors by flying to 
 continent, where, at Boulogne, he died on the 
 f January, 1834. And now comes the melancholy 
 of the story, in the fate which overtook his only daugh- 
 vho struggled to redeem the prodig&lity of her ancestors. 
 '• Princess of Connemara," as she was styled, for some 
 maintained a decent appearance upon the balance that 
 Incd after paying ofi the interest of the various mort- 
 P)Ut she married in 1847, and shortly afterwards 
 iud her husband united in borrowmg a large sum of 
 iy from the Law Life Assurance Company, in order to 
 jlidate the incumbrances upon the estate at a lower 
 af interest. But this attempt to save themselves was 
 ted by events over wliich they had no control. The 
 of famine came, and the tenants ceased to pay anj- 
 whatever; the mortgage instalments were unpaid in 
 jquence, and the Law Life A.^surance Company would 
 t no respite. The company insisted on the due perfonn- 
 of their bond, and that being under the circumstances 
 ssible, this vast Connemara property came into the 
 irabercd Estates Court, and the famous old race 
 lai-tin of BallinahincU was sold out. The tuies 
 
 the worst possible for an advantageous sale; the 
 irance Company bought in almost the entire estate at a 
 immeasurably below its real value; and as the_ whole 
 eeds were inadequate to the liquidation of liabilities^ not 
 igle acre remained to the princess, and she became an 
 lute pauper. In this total wreck of her fortune she re- 
 to Fontaine L'Eveque, in Belgium, where for a short 
 
 she endeavoured to .support herself by her pen; but so 
 ty were the means thus obtained that she at length re- 
 i'i toabandon Europe for America, hoping to find in the 
 world ampler opportunities. Some friends of the family 
 
 forward with a small subscription, and she embarked 
 ler voyage in a sailing vessel ; although far advanced in 
 nancy slie was without a medical attendant or nurse, 
 a premature coifinement was the fatnl consequence, 
 
 which she died soon after she touched the shore; or as 
 'cjAvill h.ave it, before she left the boat. The (^ particulars 
 ^ow be told without wounding any person, for with her 
 Ion"- line of Martins passed away for ever.
 
 postal lacuities. it was a very singular iinng taai in a w> 
 like South Shields tlicy could not get their letters lu' 
 nine o'clock iu the morning. While at Liverpool thr ot 
 day: l»e observed that the letter carriers cotnmcuced th 
 work at seven oclnck iu the morning, and that at a quni 
 past seven o'clock any person could obtain a letter fr< 
 the post-office. At Liverpool also there were no less til 
 fort;.- -five receiving houses. Had he been present at the li 
 meeting of the Council, he would have requested that, in 1 
 memorial, the Postrnaster-General should be pressed tl 
 the letter bags for i^ouih Shields should be left every inoi 
 iiig at the Pelaw Main .Station, instead of being dragged 
 to Newcastle, and subject to detention. He considered tl 
 this was not a case which would not be granted. There > 
 too much inodei^ty or their part in not making a' strong f 
 wrgi-nt request, and they must therefore endeavour by cvi 
 possibb-' mimner to obtain like advantages possTJssed by ot 
 towns. 
 
 Mr Aid Glovek said if the bags were' ^dropped at Fe 
 Main there was no train (o bring them down f jr early d 
 very at South Shields. If the North Eastern Kaihvay C< 
 pany could be induced to put on a train at six o'clock fi 
 Newcastle, the complaint could then be remedied. The f 
 iu this respect did not, therefore, lay with tlio Post Oflici 
 MrliiDLEY: The po.st office autliorities ought to ind 
 tlic railway company to do so. 
 
 Jilr SuxnEELAKD remarked that Mr Wostraacott, the 
 voyor at present at South Shields, was about to recomr, 
 the removal of the receiving letter house in East Holb 
 s^ibstituting in its place, a pillar letter box. This was ci 
 iiig great complaints. 
 
 The Mayor said that a petition in reference to this ma 
 had been brought to bun to sign, when he suggested to 
 pcrsgn in charge of it the advantage of bringing it to 
 council meeting, when he might obtain the signatures 
 only of himcclf but also those of other members of the c« 
 oil. His worship enquired if Mr Sutherland had had 
 petition handed to him. 
 
 itir SuTHEELAKD replied that he had not. 
 Mr Aid. Robinson : 'J'liese pillar post-offices answer 
 tite purposes of i-eceiving houses. 
 
 Mr Wawn: Except that they are dumb and cannot 
 yoa an ansvv-er. 
 
 The Mayor: A pillar post-office might not beabsok 
 dumb; it might contain on it the times of the arrival anc 
 parture of the mails. 
 
 Air Aid. Dale : In some of those branch post-offices 
 do not get very much satisfaction by applying to them 
 MrKiDLEY: They might as well be dumb. (Lau^ 
 The Mayor : W'h-.tt has been said upon this subject v 
 think, be attended with advantage. 
 I The report was then confirmed. 
 
 report of the baths and wash-houses. 
 Mr Aid. ToSHAcn prcsentetl this report. For thequ 
 ended 24i:h !^eptembcv, the number of bathers was 3 
 oi\Ta»hcr.s 2,215. The receipts from all sources had 
 £63 I6d 3d. As compared with the corresponfling qu 
 of lust year, there bad been an increase in tlic numb 
 bathers of 59 : a decrease in the number of washers of 
 an increase in the recciptsof the bath department of 16s 
 a deicrease in the receipt of the wash-house department ( 
 18.s4d. John K&ed had been appointed lireman at the I 
 ThecoKimittee recommended an alteration iu the time of i 
 ing the establishment for the commencement of bus 
 from six to seven o'clock in the morning during tlie 
 six months. By this a saving of six hours per week i
 
 THE 
 
 MARTINS OF CEO' lARTIL 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 I AM about to speak of Ireland as it ■u'as some four-aud-twenty 
 years ago, and feel as if I were referring to a long-past period of his- 
 tory, such have been the changes, political and social, effected in that 
 interval ! Tempting as in some respects might be an investigation 
 into the causes of these great changes, and even speculation as to 
 how they might have been modified, and whither they tend, I 
 prefer rather to let the reader form his own unaided judgment on 
 such matters, and will therefore, without more of preface, proceed to 
 my story. 
 
 If the traveller leaves the old town of Oughtei-ard, and proceeds 
 westward, he enters a -n-ild and dreary region, with few traces of cul- 
 tivation and with scarcely an inhabitant. Bare, bleak mountains, 
 fissured by many a torrent, boiuid plains of stony surface, — liere and 
 there the miserable hut of some " cottier," with its poor eftbrt at til- 
 lage, in the shape of some roods of wet potato land, or the sorry pictin-e 
 of a stunted oat crop, green even in the late autumn. Gradually, 
 however, the scene becomes less dreary. Little patches of grass laud 
 come into view, generally skirting some small lake ; and here are to 
 be met with droves of those wild Conuemara ponies, for which the 
 
 B
 
 2 TUE MARTINS OF CEO MAETIN. 
 
 district is so celebrated ; a stunted, hardy race, witli all the endurance 
 and courage that beseem a mountain origin. Further on, the 
 grateful sight of young timber meets the eye, and large enclosures of 
 larch and spruce fir arc seen on every favourable spot of ground. 
 And at length, on winding round the base of a steep mountain, the 
 deep woods of a rich demesne appear, and soon afterwards a hand- 
 some entrance-gate of massive stone, with armorial bearings above it, 
 announces the approach to Cro' Martin Castle, the ancient seat of the 
 Mai'tins. 
 
 An avenue of several miles in length, winding through scenery of 
 the most varied character, at one time traversing rich lawns of waving 
 meadow, at another tracking its course along some rocky glen, or 
 skirting the bank of a clear and rapid river, at length arrives at the 
 Castle. With few pretensions to architectural correctness, Cro' 
 Martin was, indeed, an imposing structure. Originally the strong- 
 hold of some bold Borderer, it had been added to by successive pro- 
 prietors, till at last it had assumed the proportions of a vast and 
 spacious edifice, different eras contributing the different styles of 
 building, and presenting in the mass, traces of every architecture, 
 from the stern old watch-tower of the fourteenth century to the com- 
 modious dwelling-house of our own. 
 
 If correct taste might take exception to many of the external 
 details of this building, the arrangements within doors, where all 
 that elegance and comfort could combine were to be found, might 
 safely challenge criticism. Costly furniture abounded, not for show 
 in state apartments, shrouded in canvas or screened from sunlight, 
 but for daily use in rooms that showed continual habitation. 
 
 Some of the apartments displayed massive specimens of that richlj^- 
 carved old oak furniture for which the Chateaux of the Low Coun- 
 tries were famed ; others abounded with inlaid consoles and costly 
 tables of " marqueterie," and others again exhibited that chaste white 
 and gold which characterised the splendid era of the Kegency 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 scrupulous neatness of all these arrangements, in the orderly 
 air, the demure and respectful bearing of the servants as they showed 
 the Castle to strangers, one might read the traces of a strict and 
 rigid discipline — features, it must be owned, that seemed little in 
 accordance with the wild region that stretched on everv side. The
 
 THE MAETINS OP CRO' MAETIN. 3 
 
 spotless windows of plate-glass, the polished floor that mirrored every 
 cljair that stood on it, the massive and well-fitting doors, the richly- 
 gilded dogs that shone -within the marhle hearth, had little brother- 
 hood -with the dreary dwellings of the cottiers beyond the walls of the 
 park — and certainly even Irish misery never was more conspicuous 
 til an 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 proportioned, her face 
 seemed to blend the joyous character of happy girlhood with a tem- 
 perament of resolute action. The large and liquid hazel eyes, with 
 their long dark fringes, were almost at variance with the expression 
 of the mouth, which, though finely and beautifully fashioned, conveyed 
 the working of a spirit that usually followed its owTi dictates, and as 
 rarelv brooked much interference. 
 
 Shaded by a broad-leaved black hat, and with a braid of her dark 
 auburn hair accidentally fallen on her shoulder, Mary Martin sat 
 patting the head of the wire-haired greyhound, who had reared him- 
 self to her side — a study for Landseer himself. Scarcely above a 
 minute had elapsed, when several servants were seen running towards 
 her, whose hurried air betrayed that they had only just risen from bed. 
 
 " You're all very late to-day," cried the young lady. "Tou should 
 have been in the stables an hour ago. Where's Brand ?" 
 
 " He's gone into the fair. Miss, with a lot of hoggets," said a little 
 old fellow with a rabbit- skin cap, and a most unmistakable groom 
 i'jrmation about the knees and ankles. 
 
 " Look to the mare, Barny," said she, jumping off", '■' and remind 
 n-ie, 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 sea-side, that you are to neglect your duty ? Hackett, I shall 
 want to see the colts presently ; go round to the straw-yard and wait 
 till I come ; and, Graft, let us have a look at the garden, for my aunt 
 is quite provoked at the flowers you have been sending her lately." 
 
 All this was said rapidly, and in a tone that evidently was not 
 meant to admit of reply ; and the gardener led the way, key in hand, 
 very much with the air of a felon going to conviction. He was a 
 Northern Irishman, however, and possessed the Scotch-like habits of 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 prudent reserve, that never wasted a Avord in a bad cause. And thus 
 he sufFeredhimsclf to be soundly rated upon various short-comings in 
 his department : celery, that wanted landing ; asparagus grown to the 
 consistence of a walking-cane ; branches of fruit-trees breaking under 
 their weight of produce ; and even weed-grown walks, all were there, 
 and upon all was he arraigned. 
 
 " The old story, of course, Graft," said she, slapping her foot im- 
 patiently with her riding-whip — " you have too few people in the 
 garden ; but my remedy will be to lessen their number. K'ow mark 
 me. My Uncle is coming home on "Wednesday next — just so — a full 
 month earlier than you expected — and if the garden be not in per- 
 fect order — if I find one of these things I have complained of to- 
 day " 
 
 " But, my Leddy, this is the season when, what wi' sellin' the fruit, 
 and what wi' the new shoots " 
 
 " I'll have it done, that's all, Mr. Graft ; and you'll have one man 
 less to do it with. I'll go over the hothouse after breakfast," said 
 she, smiling to herself at the satisfaction with which he evidently 
 heard this short reprieve. Nor was he himself more anxious to 
 escape censure than was she to throw off the ungracious office of 
 inflicting it. 
 
 " And now, for old Catty Broon, and a good breakfast to put me 
 in better temper," said she to herself, as she entered the Castle and 
 wended her way to the housekeeper's room. 
 
 " May I never — but I thought it was a dream when I heard your 
 voice outside," said old Catty, as she welcomed her young mistress 
 with heartfelt delight ; " but when I saw them runnin' here and 
 runnin' there, I said, sure enough, she's come in earnest." 
 
 " Quite true, Catty," said Mary, laughing. "I surprised the gar- 
 rison, and found them, I must say, in most sorry discipline ; but 
 never mind, they'll have everything to rights by Wednesday, when 
 Ave 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're not goin' to ride back to Kilkieran to-day?" 
 
 " That am I, Catty, and up to Kyle's "Wood and to the new planta- 
 tions before I go. AVhy, it's only fifteen miles, old lady !" 
 
 " Faix, you're your father's daughter all over," said Catty, with a 
 look first at lier and then at a water-coloured sketch Avhich occupied
 
 THE MAETINS 03? CEO MAETIN. 5 
 
 a place over the cbimney, and represented a fair-liaired, liandsome 
 boy of about ten years of age. 
 
 " Was that ever like Papa ?" asked the girl, 
 
 "'Tis his born image, it is," said Catty; and her eyes swam with 
 tears as she turned away. 
 
 " "Well, to my thinking he is far better-looking in that picture !" 
 said Mary, pointing with lier whip to a coloured drawing of a showily- 
 dressed dragoon officer, reining in his charger, and seeming to eye 
 with considerable disdain the open mouth of a cannon in front 
 of him. 
 
 "Ah, then, the other was more himself I" sighed Catty; "and 
 more nat'ral too, with the long hair on his neck and that roguish 
 laugh in his eye." 
 
 " And neither are very like that !" said Mary, pointing to a third 
 portrait, which represented a swarthy horseman with a wide sombrero 
 and a jacket all braided and buttoned in Mexican fashion, a rifle at 
 his back and a loug lance in his hand, with the heavy coil of a lasso 
 at his saddle-peak. 
 
 " Arrah, that an'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, thovigh 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 mayhap, still may, hang over your fireplace. — Guastalla, 
 May, 1808." 
 
 " And has he not written since that ?" sighed the girl, over whom 
 the dark shadow of orphanhood passed as she spoke. 
 
 " Twice only — the first of the two spoke of his coming home again 
 — ^but somehow he seemed to be put oft" it, and the nest letter was all 
 about you, as if he didn't mean to come back ! My Lady and Master 
 Barry never was fond of each other," muttered the old woman, after a 
 pause, and as though giving an explanation to some problem that she 
 was working within her own head. 
 
 " But my Uncle loved him," broke in Mary. 
 
 " And why wouldn't he ? AVarn't they twins ? There was only a 
 few minutes between them — long enough to make one a rich man 
 and leave the other only his own wits and the wide world for a
 
 6 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 fortune ! Ayeh, ayeh !" grumbled out the old crone, " if they were 
 both born poor they'd be livin' together like brothers now, under the 
 one roof — happy and comfortable ; and you and your cousin, Master 
 Dick, would be playfellows and companions, inwtead of his being 
 away in Ingia, or America, or wherever it is !" 
 
 The young girl leaned her head on her hand, and appeared to have 
 fallen into a deep train of thought, for she never noticed old Catty's 
 remarks, nor indeed seemed conscious of her presence for some time. 
 " Catty," said she at length, and in a voice of unusually calm 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 
 shoidd be more like a real home than this, though God knows mv 
 Uncle is all tliat I could wish in kindness and aftection ; 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 aU those fine things in Wedgewood-ware that you got Avhile 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 tlie old woman, " they're all here already. The 
 news soon spread that you came over this morning, and you'll have 
 a great assembly." 
 
 " I'll not keep them waiting, then," said Mary ; and, so saying, she 
 left the room, and proceeding by many passages and corridors, at 
 length reached a remote pai-t of the building, Avhich once had formed 
 part of the ancient edifice. A suite of low-ceiled rooms here opened 
 upon a small grassy enclosure, all of which had been appropriated bv 
 Mary to her own use. One was a little library or study, neatly but 
 very modestly furnished ; adjoining it was her ofiice, where she 
 transacted all business matters ; and beyond tliat again was a large 
 chamber, whose sole furniture consisted in a row of deal presses 
 against the walls, and a long table or counter which occupied the 
 middle of the room. Two large windows opening to the floor lighted 
 the apartment, and no sooner had Mary thrown these wide, than a 
 burst of salutations and greetings arose from a dense and motley 
 crowd assembled on the grass outside, and who stood, sat, or lay in 
 every possible attitude and grouping, their faces all turned towards 
 the window where she was standing. 
 
 With true native volubility they poured out not only their wel- 
 comings, but a number of interjectional flatteries, supposed not to be 
 audible by her on whom they commented ; and thus her hair, her 
 eyes, her teeth, her complexion, even her foot, were praised with an

 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN. 7 
 
 ^ enthusiasm of admiration that might have shamed more polished 
 worshippers. 
 
 These muttered eulogies continued as the young girl was occupied 
 unlocking drawers and presses, and placing upon the table several 
 books and papers, as well as a small scale and weights — preparations 
 all equally the source of fruitful observation. 
 
 The company was entirely of the softer sex ! — an epithet not per- 
 haps 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 submission, an 
 almost slavish deference to every observation addressed to them. 
 Their dress bespoke the very greatest poverty ; not only were they 
 clothed in rags of every hue and shape, but all were barefooted, and 
 some of the very oldest wore no other covering to their heads than 
 their own blanched and grizzled locks. 
 
 Nor would a follower of Lavater have argued too 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 Jook of stupid, stolid 
 indifference; on the contrary, their faces were intensely, powerfully 
 significant, and there was stamped upon them that strange mixture of 
 malignant drollery and sycophancy that no amount of either good or 
 adverse fortune ever entirely subdues in their complex natures. 
 
 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 analyse these 
 "gnarled natures," wherein some of the best and some of the worst 
 features of humanity warred and struggled together. Who could 
 dare to call them kind-heai'ted or malevolent, grateful or ungrateful, 
 free-giving or covetous, faithful or capricious, as a people ? Why, 
 they were all these, and fifty other things just as opposite besides, 
 every twenty-four hours of their lives ! Their moods of mind ranged 
 from one extreme to the other ; nothing had any permanency amongst 
 them but their wretchedness. Of all their qualities, however, that wliich 
 most obstructed their improvement, ate deepest into their natures, 
 and STiggested 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
 
 8 THE MAKTIKS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 crafty minds found congenial oceiipation in ascribing this or that 
 motive to every attempt to better tlieir condition. 
 
 Mary Martin knew them — iniderstood them — as well as most people; 
 few, indeed, out of their own actual station of life, had seen so much 
 of their domesticity. From her very childhood she had been conver- 
 sant witli 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 
 ]uudacss 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 euforced conformity with at least one rule, which was, that none 
 should speak save in answer to some question put by herself. This 
 may seem a very small matter, and yet to any one who knows the 
 Irish peasant it will appear little short of miraculous. The passion 
 for discursiveness, the tendency to make an effective theme of their 
 misery, whatever particular shape it may assume, is essentially na- 
 tional, and to curb this vent to native eloquence was to oppose at once 
 the strongest impulse of their natures. 
 
 jS^othiug short of actual, tangible benefits could compensate them 
 for what they scrupled not to think was downright cruelty ; nor was 
 it till after many months of steady perseverance on her part tliat 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 tliat 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 them- 
 selves to the very least restriction when a passion or a caprice stands 
 opposed to it ! 
 
 After about eighteen months of hard persistance 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. AVheuever the slightest deviation, 
 from the ritual occurred, a smart tap of a small ivory ruler on the 
 table imposed silence ; and they who disregarded the warning were 
 ordered to move by, unattended to. Had a stranger been permitted,
 
 THE MABTINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 9 
 
 therefore, to take a peep at these proceedings, he would have been 
 astonished at the rapidity with which complaints were heard, and 
 wants redressed ; for, with an instinct thoroughly native, Mary Martin 
 appreciated the cases which came before her, and rarely or never con- 
 founded the appeal of real suffering with the demands of fictitious 
 sorrow. Most of those who came were desirous of tickets for Dis- 
 pensary aid, for sickness has its permanent home in the Irish cabin, 
 and fever lurks amidst the damp straw and the smoky atmosphere 
 of the poor peasant's home. Some, however, came for articles of 
 clothing, or for aid to make and repair them ; others, for some little 
 assistance in diet, barley for a sick man's drink, a lemon, or an orange, 
 to moisten the parched lips of fever ; others, again, wanted leave to 
 send a grandchild or a niece to the scliool ; and, lastly, a few privi- 
 ledged individuals appeared to claim their weekly rations of snuff 
 or tobacco— little luxuries accorded to old age — comforts that so- 
 laced many a dreary hour of a joyless existence. Amongst all the 
 crowded mass, there was not one whom Mary had not known and 
 visited in their humble homes. Thoroughly conversant witli 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 enougli to 
 be encouraged by the results before her, small and few as they were, 
 to think that possibly the good time was yet to come when sucli 
 efforts would be unneeded, and when Ireland's industiy, employed 
 and rewarded, would more than suffice for all the i*equirements of 
 her humble poor. 
 
 " Jane Maloney," said Mary, placing a small packet on the table. 
 " Give this to Sally Kieran as you pass her door ; and here's the 
 order for your own cloak." 
 
 " May the heavens be your bed. May the holy " 
 
 " Catty Honan," cried Mary, with a gesture to enforce silence. 
 " Catty, your granddaughter never comes to the school now that she 
 has got leave. "What's the reason of that ?" 
 
 " Taix, your reverance Miss, 'tis ashamed she is by rayson of her 
 clothes. She says Luke Cassidy's daughters have check aprons." 
 
 " jN"o 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 with- 
 out a little green in it !" 
 
 " How are the pains, Sarah ?" asked Mary, turning to a very feeble- 
 lookiug old creature with crutches.
 
 10 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 
 
 " "Worse and worse, my Lady. "With every change of the weather 
 they come on afresh." 
 
 " The doctor will attend you, Sally, and if he thinks wine good for 
 you, you shall have it." 
 
 " 'Tis that same would be the savin' of me. Miss Mary," said a 
 cunning-eyed little woman, with a tattered straw bonnet on her head 
 and a ragged shawl over her. 
 
 " I don't think so, Nancy. Come up to the house on Monday 
 morning, and help Mrs. Taafe with the bleaching." 
 
 " So this is the duplicate, Polly ?" said she, taking a scrap of paper 
 from an old woman, whose countenance indicated a blending of dis- 
 sipation with actual want. 
 
 " One-and-fourpence was all I got on it, and trouble enough it 
 gave me." These words she uttered with a heavy sigh, and in a tone 
 at once resentful and complaining. 
 
 " "Were my Uncle to know that you had pawned your cloak, Polly, 
 he'd never permit you to cross his threshold." 
 
 "Ayeh, it's a great sin, to be sure," whined out the hag, half 
 insolently. 
 
 " A great shame and a gi'eat disgrace it certainly is ; and I shall 
 stop all relief to you till the money be paid back." 
 
 " And Avhy not?"—" To be sure!"—" Miss Mary is right!"—" What 
 else could she do ?" broke in full twenty sycophant voices, who hoped to 
 prefer their own claims by the cheap expedient of condemning another. 
 
 " The "Widow Hannigan." 
 
 "Here, Miss," simpered out a smiling, little old creature, with a 
 curtsey, as she held up a scroU of paper in her hand. 
 
 " AVhat's this, "Widow Hannigan ?" 
 
 " 'Tis a picture Mickey made of you. Miss, when you was out 
 riding that day with the hounds ; he saw you jumping a stone wall." 
 
 jMary smiled at the performance, which certainly did not promise 
 future excellence, and went on : 
 
 " Tell Mickey to mend his writing ; his was the worst copy in the 
 class; and here's a card for your daughter's admission into the 
 Infirmary. By-the-way, widow, which of the boys was it I saw 
 dragging the river on AV^ednesday ?" 
 
 " Paix, Miss, I don't know. Sure it was none of ours would dare 
 to " 
 
 " Yes, they would, any one of them ; but I'll not permit it ; and 
 what's more, widow, if it occur again I'll withdraw the leave I gave 
 to fish with a rod." 
 
 " Teresa Johnson, your niece is a very good child, and promises to
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 11 
 
 be very handy with her needle. Let her hem these handkerchiefs, 
 and there's a frock for herself. My Uncle says, Tom shall have half 
 his wages paid him till he's able to come to work again." 
 
 But why attempt to follow out what would be but the long-unending 
 catalogue of native misery — that dreary series of wants and privations 
 to which extreme destitution subjects a long-neglected and helpless 
 people ? There was notliing 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 popu- 
 lation so steeped in misery, so utterly inured to wretchedness, that 
 they felt no shame at its exposure, but rather a sort of self-exaltation 
 at any opportunity of displaying a more than ordinary amount of 
 human sufiering and sorrow ; — to hear them how they caressed their 
 afflictions, how they seemed to fondle their misfortunes, vieing with 
 each other in calamity, and bidding higher and higher for a little 
 human sympathy. 
 
 ]\Iary Martin set herself stoutly to combat this practice, including, 
 as it does, one of the most hopeless features of the national character. 
 To inculcate habits of self-reliance she was often driven, in violation 
 of her own feelings, to 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 con- 
 demnation when her very heart was bursting with pity and com- 
 passion. No wonder was it, then, that she rejoiced when this painful 
 task was completed, and she found herself in the more congenial 
 duty of looking over the "young stock," and listening to old Barny's 
 predictions about yearlings and two-year olds. 
 
 This young girl, taught to read by a lady's maid, and to sew by a 
 housekeeper, possessed scarcely any of the resources so usual to 
 those in her own condition, and was of sheer necessity thrown upon 
 herself for occupation and employment. Her intense sympathy with 
 the people, her fondness for them even in their prejudices, had sug- 
 gested the whole story of her life. Her Uncle took little or no in- 
 terest in the details of his property. The indolence in which he 
 first indulged from liking, became at last a part of his very nature, 
 and he was only too well pleased to see the duty undertaken by 
 another which had no attraction for himself. 
 
 " Miss Mary will look to it"~" Tell my Niece of it"—" Miss 
 Martin will give her orders," were the invariable replies by whicli 
 he escaped all trouble, and suffered the whole weight of labour and
 
 12 THE MAKTiyS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 responsibility to devolve upon a young girl scarcely out of her teens, 
 until gradually, from the casual care of a flower-garden, or a childish 
 pleasure in giving directions, she had succeeded to the almost un- 
 limited rule of her Uncle's house and his great estate. 
 
 Mr. Martin was often alarmed at some of his Niece's measures of 
 reform. The large sums drawn out of bank, the great expenses 
 incurred in weekly wages, the vast plans of building, draining, road- 
 making, and even bridging, terrified him ; while the steward, ~Mt. 
 Henderson, slily insinuated, that though jSIiss 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, notwithstand- 
 ing 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 in- 
 dustry, mock enlightenment, mock conviction, even mock submis- 
 sion and resignation, had all their partial successes ; and she was 
 entrapped by many a pretence that would have had no chance of 
 imposing on Mr. Henderson. Still, there was a credit side to this 
 account, wherein his name woidd not have figured. There were traits 
 of the people, which he neither could have understood or valued. 
 There were instincts — hard struggling eftbrts, 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 iiight and all her daily eftbrts 
 were in the cause, she was by no means insensible to the flattery 
 which constantly beset her. She accepted it readily and freely, 
 laughing at what she persuaded herself to believe was the mere 
 exuberance of that national taste for praise. Like most warm and 
 impulsive natures, she was greedy of approbation ; even failure itself 
 was consoled by a word of encomium on the eftbrt. She liked to be 
 thought active, clever, and energetic. She loved to hear the muttered 
 voices which at any moment of difllculty said, " Faix, Miss Mary will 
 find the way to it ;" or, " Sure it won't bafile her, anyhow." This 
 confidence in her powers stimulated and encouraged her, often engen- 
 dering the very resources it imputed. 
 
 She might have made many a mistake in the characters of those
 
 THE iiAETixs or CEO' M:AIlTiy. 13 
 
 for ■whom she was interested — conceived many a false hope — nurtured 
 manv 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 
 ^vas hers — the glorious excitement of an open-air life, with all its 
 movements and animation. There was that amount of adventure and 
 enterprise which gave a character of romantic interest to her under- 
 takings, 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 
 tlie 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 tliat 
 followed her as she went, and the muttered blessings that were wafted 
 after her, proclaimed what her mission had been, and showed how she 
 had for a brief space thrown a gleam of sunshine over the darksome 
 gloom of some sad existence. 
 
 " God bless her! she's always cheerful and light-hearted," said the 
 poor peasant, as he leaned on his spade to look after her ; " and one 
 feels better the whole day after the sight of her !" 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 KILKIEKAX BAT. 
 
 I>- one of the many indentures of Kilkieran Bay — favoured by a 
 southern 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 neigh- 
 bouring gentry, who frequented the coast for sea-bathing. There 
 was little attempt made by the humble owners to accommodate the 
 habits of the wealthy visitors. Some slight eflbrt 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. Tear by year the progress of civilisation went thus 
 lazily forward ; and, far from finding fiudt with this backwardness, 
 it was said that the visitors were just as well satisfied. Many hoped 
 to see the place as they remembered it in their own childhood — 
 many were not sorry to avail themselves of its inexpensive life and 
 simple habits — and some were more pleased that its humble attrac-
 
 14 THE MAUTINS OF CHO' ilAETIN. 
 
 tions could draw uo strangers to sojourn there to mock by their more 
 costly requirements the quiet ways of the old residents. 
 
 Under the shelter of a massive rock, which formed the northern 
 boundary of the little bay, stood one building of more pretension. It 
 was a handsome bathing-lodge, mth a long verandah towards the sea, 
 and an effort, not veiy successful, however, at a little flower-garden 
 in front. The spacious bay-windows, which opened in French ftishion, 
 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 i-esistance in the climate to such eff'orts 
 at embellishment. The wild hurricanes that swept over the broad At- 
 lantic were not to be withstood by the frail timbers of tlie Gothic 
 verandah. The sweeping gusts that sent foaming spray high over 
 the rocky cliff's, shattered thecostly panes, and smashed even the 
 mullions that held them ; while fragments of carving, or pieces of 
 stuccoed tracery, together with broken vases and uprooted shrubs, 
 littered the garden and the terrace. The house was but a few years 
 built, and yet was already dilapidated and ruinous-looking. A stout 
 stone wall had replaced the trellised woodwork of one side of the 
 porch ; some of tlie windows were firmly barricaded with boards 
 on the outside ; and iron cramps, and other appliances equally un- 
 sightly on the roof, showed by what means the slates were enabled to 
 resist the storms. 
 
 The aspect of consistent poverty never inspires ridicule. It is 
 shabby gentility alone that provokes the smile of sarcastic meaning ; 
 and thus the simple dwellings of the fishermen, in all their humility, 
 offered nothing to the eye of critical remark. There seemed abundant 
 absurdity in this attempt to defy climate and aspect, place and cir- 
 cumstance ; and every effort to repair an accident but brought out 
 the pretension into more glaring contrast. 
 
 The " Osprey's Nest," as Lady Dorothea Martin had styled her 
 bathing-lodge, bore indeed but a sorry resemblance to its water- 
 coloured emblem in the plan of the architect ; for Mr, Kirlc had not 
 only improvised a beautiful villa, witli fuchsias and clematis, and 
 moss-roses clustering on it, but he had invented an Italian sky, and 
 given a Lago Maggiore tint to the very Atlantic. Tour fashionable 
 architect is indeed a finished romancer, and revels in the license of his 
 art with a most voluptuous abandonment. 
 
 It was now, however, late in the autumn : some warnings of the 
 approaching equinox had already been felt, and the leaden sky above.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 15 
 
 and the dark green, sullen sea 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 dreary interval between day and dusk, so glorious in fine 
 weather, but so terribly depressing in the cold ungenial season, 
 as all the frequenters of the little bay were hastening homeward for 
 the night. Already a twinkling candle or two showed that some had 
 retired to their humble shealings, to grumble over the discomforts 
 about them, and speculate on a speedy departure. They who visited 
 Kilkieran during the " season" were usually the gentry families of 
 the neighbourhood; but as the svimmer wore over, their places were 
 occupied by a kind of " half-price company" — shopkeepers and smart 
 residents of Oughterard, who waited for their pleasure till it could be 
 obtained economically. Of this class were now those on the evening 
 I have mentioned, and to a small, select party of whom I now desire 
 to introduce my reader. 
 
 It was " Mrs. Cronan's Evening" — for the duty of host was taken 
 in rotation — and Mrs. Cronan was one of the leaders of fashion in 
 Oughterard, for she lived on her own private means, at the top of 
 Carraway-street, entertained Father Maher every Sunday at dinner, 
 and took in the Galimy Intelligence, which, it is but fair to say, was, 
 from inverted letters and press blunders, about as difficult reading as 
 any elderly lady ever confronted. 
 
 Mrs. Cronan was eminently genteel — that is to say, she spent her 
 life in unceasing lamentations over the absence of certain comforts 
 "she was always used to;" and passed her days in continual re- 
 ference to some former state of existence, which, to hear her, seemed 
 almost borrowed bodily out of the Arabian Nights. Then there was 
 Captain Bodkin, of the Galway Fencibles — a very fat, asthmatic old 
 gentleman, who came down to the " salt water" every summer for 
 thirty years, fully determined to batlie, but never able to summon 
 courage to go in. He was a kind-hearted, jolly old fellow, who loved 
 strong puncli 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 slie 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 circum- 
 stances — she was the Swan and Edgar of Oughterard — " was company 
 for the Queen herself."
 
 IG THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 The fourth hand in tlic whist-table was usually taken by Mrs. 
 iSTelligau, wife of " Pat Nelligan" — the great sliopkceper of Oughterard 
 — and who, though by no means entitled on heraldic grounds to take 
 her place in any sucli 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 woidd fain say a few words, since the reader is destined to bear 
 company with him when the other personages here referred to have 
 been long forgotten, 
 
 Joseph Nelligan was a tall, pale young fellow, who, though only 
 just passed twenty-two, looked several years older; the serious, 
 thoughtful expression of his face giving the semblance of age. His 
 head was large and massively shaped, and the temples were strouo- 
 and square, deeply indented at the sides, and throwing the broad, 
 high forehead into greater prominence ; dark eyes, shaded by heavy, 
 black eyebrows, lent an almost scowling character to a face which, 
 regular in feature, was singularly calm and impassive-looking. His 
 voice was deep, low, and sonorous, and though strongly impressed with 
 the intonation of his native province, was peculiarly soft, and, to Irish 
 ears, even musical. He was, however, remarkably silent ; rarely or 
 never conversed, as his acquaintances understood conversation, and 
 only when roused by some theme that he cared for, or stimulated 
 by some assertion that he dissented from, was he heard to burst forth 
 into a rapid flow of words— uttered as though under the impulse of 
 passion, and of which, when ended, he seemed actually to feel ashamed 
 himself. 
 
 He was no favom-ite with the society of Kilkieran ; 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 on the surface ; and many were heard to remark, that he 
 seemed to forget who he was, and that " though he was a College 
 student, he ought to remember he was only Pat Nelligan's son." 
 
 If he never courted their companionship, he as httle resented their 
 estrangement from him. He spent his days and no small share of his 
 nights in study ; books supplied to him the place of men, and in their 
 converse he forgot the world. His father's vanity had entered him 
 as a Fellow-Commoner in the University, and even this served to 
 widen the interval between him and those of his own age — his class- 
 fellows regarding his presence amongst them as an intolerable piece 
 of low-bred presumption. Nor was this unkindly feeling diminished 
 M-heu they saw him, term after term, carry away the prizes of each
 
 THE MARTINS OF CfiO' MABTIN. 17 
 
 examination : for equally in science as in classics was lie distinguislied, 
 till at length it became a current excuse for failure when a man said, 
 " I was in Nelligan's division." 
 
 It is not impossible tliat bis social isolation contributed mucli to 
 bis success. Tor bim tbere were none of tbe amusements wbicb oc- 
 cupy tbose of bis own age. The very fact of bis Fellow-Commoner's 
 gown separated him as widely from one set of bis fellow-students as 
 from tbe other, an,d thus was be left alone with bis ambition. As time 
 wore on, and bis successes obtained wider notoriety, some of tbose in 
 authority in the University appeared to be disposed to make advances 
 to him; but he retreated modestly from these marks of notice, shroud- 
 ing himself in his obscurity, and pleading the necessity for study. At 
 length came the crowning act of bis College career, in the examination 
 for tbe gold medal, and altliough no competitor was bold enough to 
 dispute the prize with bim, he 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 panegyric to tbe 
 splendid display he made on that occasion. 
 
 In tbe very midst of these triumphs, young Nelligan arrived at his 
 father's house in Ougbterard, to enjoy the gratification his success 
 had diffused at home, and rest hunself after his severe labours. Little 
 as old Pat jS'elligan or his neighbours knew of University honours, or 
 the toil which won them, tbere was enough in the very publicity of 
 his son's career to make bim a proud man. He at least knew tliat 
 Joe had beaten them all ; that none could bold a candle to him ; 
 " that for nigh a century such answering bad not been heard on the 
 bench." This was the expression of a Dublin journal, coupled 
 with the partisan regret that, by the bigoted statutes of tbe College, 
 genius of such order should be denied the pri^dlege of obtaining a 
 fellowship. 
 
 If young Nelligan retired, half in pride, half in basbfulness, from tlie 
 notice of society in Dublin, he was assuredly little disposed to enter 
 into tbe gaieties and dissipations of a small country town existence. 
 The fulsome adulation of some, tbe stupid astonishment of others, but, 
 worse than citlier, the vulgar assumption that bis success was a kind 
 of party triumph — a blow dealt by the plebeian against tbe patrician 
 — the Papist against the Protestant — shocked and disgusted liim, and 
 he was glad to leave Ougbterard and accompany bis mother to tlie 
 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 
 
 c
 
 18 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIK. 
 
 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 drimk 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 
 amusing kind, but she loved to hear the little gossip of the place 
 where the neighbours passed the evening ; what topics they discussed ; 
 who had left and who had arrived, and every other little incident of 
 their uneventful lives. Simple and easy of execution as such an ofilce 
 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 he fell into as regarded events, rather as- 
 tonished his mother, and led that good lady to believe that Trinity 
 College must not have been fertile in genius wben poor Joe was 
 regarded as one of the great luminaries of his time. " Ah," would 
 she say, " if he had his father's head, it would be telling him ! but, 
 poor boy, he remembers nothing !" 
 
 This digression — far longer than I cared to make it — but which has 
 grown to its present extent under my hands, will explain young 
 NelHgan's presence at Mrs. Cronan's "Tea," where already a num- 
 ber of other notables had now assembled, and were gracefully dis- 
 persed through the small rooms which formed her apartment. Play of 
 various kinds formed the chief amusement of the company; and while 
 the whist-table, in decorous gravity, held the chief place in the 
 sitting-room, a laughing round game occupied the kitchen, and a 
 hardly-contested " hit " of backgammon was being fought out on the 
 bed, where, for lack of furniture, the combatants had established 
 themselves. 
 
 The success of an evening party is not always proportionate to the 
 means employed to secure it. Very splendid salons, costly furniture, 
 and what newspapers call " all the delicacies of the season," are oc- 
 casionally to be found in conjunction with very dull company ; 
 while a great deal of enjoyment, and much social pleasure, are often 
 to be met with where the material resources have been of the fewest 
 and most simple kind. On the present occasion there was a great 
 deal of laughing, and a fair share of love-making ; some scolding at 
 wdiist, 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 are the object of it. AU the company 
 who had frequented the port — as Killderan was called — during the 
 season, were passed in review, and a number of racy anecdotes
 
 THE MAETINS OP CEO' MABTIN. 19 
 
 interclianged about their raiik, morals, fortune, and pretensions. A 
 very general impression seemed to prevail, that in the several points 
 of climate, scenery, social advantages, and amusements, Kilkieran 
 might stand a favourable comparison with the first watering-places, 
 not alone of England, but the Continent ; and after various discur- 
 sive reasons why its fame had not equalled its deserts, there was an 
 almost unanimous declaration of opinion that the whole fault lay 
 with the Martins ; not, indeed, that the speakers were very logical 
 in their arguments, since some were heard to deplore the change from 
 the good old times, when everybody was satisfied to live anywhere, 
 and anyhow ; when there was no road to the place but , a bridle- 
 path ; not a loaf of bread to be had within twelve miles ; no post- 
 office ; while others eloquently expatiated on all that might have 
 been, and yet was not done. 
 
 "We tried to get up a little news-room," said Captain Bodkin, 
 " and I went to Martin myself about it, but he hum'd and ha'd, 
 and said, until people subscribed for the Dispensary, he thought they 
 needn't mind newspapers." 
 
 " Just like him," said Mrs. Cronau ; " but indeed I think it's my 
 Lady does it all." 
 
 " I differ from you. Ma'am," said Miss Busk, with a bland smile ; 
 " I attribute the inauspicious influence to another." 
 
 " You mean Miss Martin ?" said Mrs. Cronan. 
 
 " Just so, Ma'am ; indeed, I have reason to know I am correct. 
 This time two years it was I went over to Cro' Martin House to 
 propose opening ' my Emporium' for the season at the port. I 
 thought it was due to the owners of the estate, and due to myself 
 also," added Miss Busk, majestically, "to state my views about a 
 
 measure so intimately associated with the , the , in fact, 
 
 what I may call the interests of civilisation. 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 tlie 
 room but Miss Martin " 
 
 " Dressed in the old brown riding-habit ?" interposed a fat old lady, 
 with one eye. 
 
 " Tes, Mrs. Eew, in the old brown riding-habit. She came up to 
 the table, with a saucy laugh in her face, and said, ' Why, Uncle, are 
 you going to give a fancy ball !' 
 
 " ' It is the last arrival from Paris, Miss,' said I, ' the Orleans mantle, 
 whichjthough not a "costume de Chasse," is accounted very becoming.' 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 '• ' Ah, you're laughing at my old habit, Miss Busk,' said she, seeing 
 how I eyed her ; ' and it really is very shabby, but I intend to give 
 Dan Leary a commission to replace it one of" these days.' " 
 
 "Dan Leary, of the Cross-roads!" exclaimed Captain. Bodkin, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I pledge you my word of honour. Sir, she said it, ' And as to all 
 this finery, Miss Busk,' said she, turning over the plates with her 
 whip, ' it would be quite unsuitable to our country, our climate, and 
 our habits ; not to say, that the Orleans mantle would be worn with 
 an ill grace when our poor people are going half naked !' " 
 
 "Positively indecent — downright iudehcate !" shuddered Mrs. 
 Cronan. 
 "And did Martin agree with her?" asked the Captain. 
 " I should like to know when he dared to do otherwise. Why, be- 
 tween my Lady and the Niece he can scarcely call his life his own." 
 
 "They say he has a cruel time of it," sighed Mr. Clinch, the 
 revenue- officer, who had some personal experience of domestic sla- 
 very. 
 
 "Tush — nonsense!" broke in his wife. "I never knew one of 
 those hen-pecked creatures that wasn't a tyrant in his family. I'll 
 engage, if the truth were known, Lady Dorothy has the worst of it." 
 " Paith, and he's much altered from what he was when a boy, if 
 any one rules him," said the Captain. " I was at school with him 
 and his twin-brother Barry ; I remember the time when one of them 
 had to wear a bit of red ribbon in his button-hole, to distinguish him 
 from the other. They were the born images of each other; that is, 
 in looks, for in real character they 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 for his brother 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 up and fought in his place, and a 
 mighty good thrashing he got, too." 
 
 " I have heard my father speak of that," said a thin, pale, careworn 
 little man, in green spectacles ; " for the two boys were taken away at 
 once, and it was the ruin of the school." 
 
 " So it was, Doctor; you're right there," broke in the Captain; 
 "and they say that Martin bears a grudge against you to this day." 
 
 " That would be hard," sighed the meek Doctor, " for I had nothing 
 to say to it, or my father either. But, it cost him dearly I" added he, 
 mournfully.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN'. 21 
 
 " Toil know best, Doctor, wlietber it is true or not ; but be certainly 
 wasn't your friend wben you tried for tbe Fever Hospital." 
 
 " Tbut was because Pat Nelligan was on my committee," said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "And Avas that sufficient to lose you Mr. Martin's support. Sir ?" 
 asked young jN'elligan, with a degree of astonishment in his face, that, 
 joined to the innocence of the cj^uestion, caused a general burst of 
 hearty laughter. 
 
 " The young gentleman knows more about culic sections, it appears, 
 than of what goes on in his own town," said the Captain. "Why, 
 Sir, your father is the most independent man in all Oughterard ; 
 and, if I know Godfrey jMartin, he'd give a thousand guineas this 
 night to have him out of it." 
 
 A somewhat animated " rally " followed this speech, in which dif- 
 ferent speakers gave their various reasons why Martin ought or ought 
 not, to make any sacrifice to put down the spirit of which Pat Nelli- 
 gau was the chief champion. These arguments Avere neither cogent 
 nor lucid enough to require repeating ; nor did they convey to Joseph 
 himself, with all his anxiety for information, the slightest knowledge 
 on the subject discussed. Attention was, however, drawn off the 
 theme by the clattering sound of a horse passing along the shingly 
 shore at a smart gallop, and with eager curiosity two or three rushed 
 to the door to see what it meant. A swooping gust of wind and rain, 
 overturning chairs and extinguishing candles, drove them suddenly 
 back again ; and, half laughing at the confusion, half cursing the 
 weather, the party barricaded the door, and returned to their places. 
 
 " Of course it was Miss Martin ; who else woidd be out at this 
 time of the night r" said Mrs. Clinch. 
 
 "And without a servant !" exclaimed Miss Busk. 
 
 " Indeed, you may well make the remark. Ma'am," said Mrs. Cronan. 
 " The young lady was brought up in a fashion that 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 thus, gradually lashing themselves into a wild indigna- 
 tion, they opened at last a steady fire upon the young lady — her 
 habits, her manners, and her appearance, all coming in for a share of 
 criticism ; and, although a few modest amendments were put in favour 
 of her horsemanship and her good looks, the motion was carried that
 
 22 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIK. 
 
 no yonnj^ 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 vounw Nelligan ventured upon a timid question of what it was 
 she had done, he was met by an eloquent chorus of half a dozen 
 voices, recounting mountain excursions which no young lady had ever 
 made before ; distant spots visited, dangers incurred, storms encoun- 
 tered, perils braved, totally imbecoming to her in her rank of life, 
 and sho^ving that she bad no personal respect, nor, as Miss Busk 
 stvled it — " a proper sense of the dignity of woman !" 
 
 " " 'Twas down at Mrs. Nclligan's, Ma'am, Miss Mary was," 
 said Mrs. Cronan's maid, who had been despatched special to make 
 inquiry on the subject. 
 
 •' At my raothei*'s 1" exclaimed Joseph, reddening, without knowing 
 in the least why. And now a new diversion occurred, while all dis- 
 cussed 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 oilers nothing very attractive to detain 
 us, it will be as well if we follow him, while he hastened homeward 
 along the dark and storm-lashed beach. He had about a mile to go> 
 and, short as was this distance, it enabled him to think over what he 
 had just heard, strange and odd as it seemed to his ears. Wholly 
 given up, as he had been for years past, to the ambition of a College 
 life, with but one goal before his eyes, one class of topics engrossing 
 his thoughts, he had never even passingly reflected on the condition, 
 of parties, the feuds of opposing factions, and, stronger than either, 
 the animosities that separated social ranks in Ireland. Confounding 
 the occasional slights he had experienced by virtue of his class, with 
 the jealousy caused by his successes, he had totally overlooked the 
 disparagement men exliibited towards the son of the Little country 
 shopkeeper, and never knew of his disqualification for a society whose 
 precincts he had not tried to pass. The littleness, the unpurpose-like 
 vacuity, the intense vulgarity of his Oughterard friends, had disgusted 
 him, it is true, but he had yet to learn that the foolish jealousy of their 
 wealthy 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 difficult men of highly cultivated and actively
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 23 
 
 practised minds, find it to comprehend the little turnings and wind- 
 ings of commonplace life, the jealousies and the rivalries of small 
 people. They search for motives vrhere there are merely impulses, 
 and look for reasons when there are simply passions. 
 
 It was only as he lifted the latch that he remembered how deficient 
 he was in all the information his mother would expect from him. Of 
 the fortunes of the whist-table he actually knew nothing, and had he 
 been interrogated as to the " toilette" of the party, his answers would 
 have betrayed a lamentable degree of ignorance. Fortunately for 
 him, his mother did not display her habitual anxiety on these interest- 
 ing themes. She neitlier asked after the Captain's winnings — he was 
 the terror of the party — nor whether Miss Busk astonished the com- 
 pany by another new gown. Poor Mrs. Nelligan was too brimful of 
 another subject to admit of one particle of extraneous matter to occupy 
 her. With a proud consciousness, however, of her own resources, 
 she affected to have thouglits for other things, and asked Joe if he 
 passed a pleasant day ? 
 
 "Tes, very — middling — quite so — rather stupid, I thought," replied 
 he, in his usual half-connected manner, when unable to attach his 
 mind to the question before him. 
 
 " Of course, my dear, it's very unlike what you're used to up in 
 Dublin, though I believe that Captain Bodkin, when he goes there, 
 alwa3's dines with the Lord-Lieutenant ; and Miss Busk, I know, is 
 second cousin to Earn of Swainestown, and there is nothing better 
 than that in Ireland. I say this between ourselves, for your father 
 can't bear me to talk of family or connexions — though I'm sure I 
 was always brought up to think a great deal about good blood, and if 
 my father was a Pinnerty, my mother was a Moore of Crockbawn, 
 and her family never looked at her for marrying my father." 
 " Indeed !" said Joe, in a dreamy semi-consciousness. 
 " It's true what I'm telling you. She often said it to me herself, 
 and told me what a blessing it was, through all her troubles and trials 
 in life — and she had her share of them, for my father was often in 
 drink, and very cruel at times — ' it supports me,' slio used to say, 
 'to remember who lam, and tlie stock I came from, and to know that 
 there's not one belonging to me would speak to me, nor look at the 
 same side of the road with me, after what I done ; and Matty,' said 
 she to me, ' if ever it happens to you to marry a man beneath you in 
 life, always bear in mind that, no matter how he treats you, you're 
 better than him.' And, indeed, it's a gi'cat support and comfort to 
 one's feelings after all," said she with a deep sigh. 
 
 "I'm certain of it," muttered Joe, who had not followed one word 
 of the harangue.
 
 24 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 " But mind tliat you never tell your father so. Indeed, I wouldn't 
 let on to liiin what happened this evening." 
 
 " What was that ?" asked the young man, roused by the increased 
 anxiety of her manner. 
 
 " It was a visit I had, my dear," replied the old lady, with a sim- 
 pering consciousness that she had something to reveal — " it was a 
 visit I had paid me, and by an elegant young lady, too." 
 
 "A young lady? Not Miss Cassidy, mother. I think she left 
 
 I 
 
 yesterday morning." 
 
 " No, indeed, my dear. Somebody very different from Miss Cas- 
 sidy ; and you might guess till you were tired before you'd thiuk of 
 Miss Martin." 
 
 " Miss Martin !" echoed Joe. 
 
 " Exactly so. Miss Martin of Cro' Martin ; and the way it hap- 
 pened was this. I was sitting here alone in the room after my tea — 
 for I sent Biddy out to borrow the Intelligence for me — and then 
 comes a sharp knock to the door, and I called ovit ' Come in,' but 
 instead of doing so there was another rapping, louder than before, 
 and I said, ' Bother you, can't you lift the latch ;' and then I heard 
 a something like a laugh, and so I went out, and you may guess the 
 shame I felt as I saw a young lady fastening the bridle of her horse 
 to the bar of the window. ' Mrs. Nelligan, I believe,' said she, with 
 a smile and a look that warmed my heart to her at once ; and as I 
 curtseyed very low, she went on. I forget, indeed, the words, whether 
 she said she was Miss Martin, or it was I that asked the question ; 
 but I know she came in with me to the room, and sat down where 
 you are sitting now. ' Coming back from Kyle's Wood this morning,' 
 said she, ' I overtook poor Billy with the post ; he was obliged to go 
 two miles out of his way to ford the river ; and what with waiting 
 for the mail, which was late in coming, and what with being wet 
 through, he was completely knocked up ; so I offered to take the bag 
 for him, and send it over to-morrow by one of our people. But the 
 poor fellow wouldn't consent, because he was charged with something 
 of consequence for you — a small bottle of medicine. Of course 
 I was only too happy to take this also, Mrs. Nelligan, and here 
 it is.' And with that she put it on the table, where you see 
 it. I'm sure I never knew how to thank her enough for her good 
 nature, but I said all that I could think of, and told her that 
 my son was just come back from College, after getting the gold 
 medal." 
 
 "You didn't speak of that, mother," said he, blushing till his very 
 forehead was crimson.
 
 THE IMARTIXS OF CEO' MAETIX. 25 
 
 "Indeed, then, I did, Joe ; and I'd like to know why I wouldn't. 
 Is it a sliame or a disgrace to us ! At any rate, she didn't tliink so, 
 for she said, ' Tou must be very proud of him ;' and I told her so I 
 was, and that he was as good as he was clever ; and, moreover, that 
 the newspapers said the time was coming when men like young 
 Nelligan would soar their way up to honours and distinctions iii 
 spite of the oppressive aristocracy that so long had combined to 
 degrade them." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! mother, you couldn't have made such a speech 
 as that ?" cried he, in a voice of downright misery. 
 
 " Didn't I, then ? And didn't she say, if there were any such op- 
 pression as could throw obstacles in the way of deserving merit, she 
 heartily hoped it might prove powerless ; and then she got up to 
 wish me good evening. I tliought, at first, a little stiffly, that is, more 
 haughty in her manner than at first ; but when I arose to see her out, 
 and she saw I was lame, she pressed me down into my chair, and 
 said in such a kind voice, ' You mustn't stir, my dear Mrs. iS"elligan. 
 I, who can find my road over half of the county, can surely discover 
 my way to the door.' 'Am I ever like to have tlie happiness of 
 seeing you again. Miss ?' said I, as I held her hand in mine. ' Cer- 
 tainly, if it would give you the very slightest pleasure,' said 
 she, pressing my hand most cordially ; and with that we parted. In- 
 deed, I scarce knew she was gone when I heard the clattering of the 
 horse over the shingle, for she Avas away in a gallop, dark as the night 
 was. Maybe," added the old lady, Avith a sigh — " maybe, I'd have 
 thought it was all a dream, if it wasn't that I found that glove of 
 hers on the floor ; she dropped it, I suppose, going out." 
 
 Young Nelligan took up the glove with a strange feeling of bashful 
 reverence. It was as though lie was touching a sacred relic ; and 
 he stood gazing on it steadfastly for some seconds. 
 
 " I'll send it over to the house by Biddy, with my compliments, 
 and to know how the family is, in the morning," said Mrs. Nellig:in, 
 witli the air of one who underetood the value of conventional 
 
 usages. 
 
 " And she'll make some stupid blunder or other," replied Joe, im- 
 patiently, "that will cover us all with shame. No, mother, I'd 
 ratlier go with it myself than that." 
 
 " To be sure, and why not," said Mrs. jS'elligan. " There's no 
 reason why yo?i should be taking up old quarrels against the Martins; 
 for my part, I never knew the country so pleasant as it used to bo 
 long ago, wlicn we used to get leave to go pic-nicking on the grounds 
 of Cro' Martin, up to the Hermitage, as they called it ; and now the
 
 26 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 
 
 gates are locked and barred like a gaol, and nobody allowed in without 
 a ticket." 
 
 "Yes, I'll go myself witb it," said Joe, who heard nothing of his 
 mother's remark, but was following out the track of his own specu- 
 lations. As little did he attend to the A^arious suggestions she threw 
 out for his guidance and direction, the several topics to which he 
 might, and those to which he must not, on any account, allude. 
 
 " Not a word, for your life, Joe, about the right of pathway to Clune 
 Abbey, and take care you say nothing about the mill-race at Glaudaff, 
 nor the shooting in Kyle's Wood. And if by any chance there should 
 be a talk about the tolls at Oughterard, say you never heard of them 
 before. Make out, in fact," said she, summing up, " as if you never 
 heard of a county where there was so much good- will and kindness 
 between the people ; and sure it isn't your fault if it's not true !" 
 And with this philosophic reflection, Mrs. Nelligan -udshed her sou 
 good night and retired. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 AN AUTUMN MORNING IN THE WEST. 
 
 The Osprey's Nest was, I have said, like a direct challenge hurled 
 at the face of western gales and Atlantic storms. With what suc- 
 cess, its aspect of dilapidation and decay but too plainly betrayed. 
 The tangled seaweed, that hung in dripping festoons over the porch 
 — the sea-shells that rattled against the window-panes, seemed like an 
 angry denunciation of the attempt to brave the elements by the mere 
 appliances of ease and luxury. 
 
 It was better, however, in the inside, where, in a roomy apartment, 
 most comfortably furnished, a lady and gentleman sat at breakfast ; 
 the table stood in a little projection of the room, admitting of a wide 
 sea-view over the bay and the distant islands of Lettermullen, but 
 as carefully excluded all prospect of the port — a locality which held 
 no high place in the esteem of the lady of the house, and which, by 
 ignoring, she half fancied she had annihilated. Wild promontories of 
 rocks, jutting out here and there, broke the coast-liae, and marked 
 the shore with a foaming stream of white water, as the ever-restless sea 
 dashed over them. The long booming swell of the great ocean 
 bounded into many a rocky cavern Avith a loud report like thunder,
 
 THE mahtins of cko' maeten. 27 
 
 and issued forth again with a whole cataract of falling stones, that 
 rattled like the crash of small-arms. It was unceasing deafening 
 clamour in the midst of a deathlike desolation. 
 
 Let me, however, turn once more to the scene within, and present 
 the living elements to my reader. They were both past the prime of 
 life. The lady might still be called handsome ; her features were per- 
 fectly regular, and fiuely cut, bearing the impress of a proud and 
 haughty spirit, that never quailed beneath the conflict of a long life, 
 a]\d even yet showed a firm front to fortune. Her hair was white as 
 snow, and as she wore it drawn back, after the fashion of a bygone 
 time, it gave her the air of a fine lady of the old French Court, in all 
 the pomp of powder and pomatum. Nor did her dress correct the 
 impression, since the deep falls of lace that covered her hands, the 
 lengthy stomacher, and trailing folds of her heavy brocade gown, all 
 showed a lurking fondness for the distinctive toilette of that era. 
 Lady Dorothea Martin had been a beauty and an Earl's daughter ; 
 two facts that not even the seclusion of the wild West could erase 
 from her memory. 
 
 Mr. Martin himself was no unworthy " pendant" to this por- 
 trait. He was tall and stately, with a lofty forehead, and temples 
 finely and well fashioned, while full, deep-set blue eyes, of the 
 very sternest determination, and a mouth every line of which 
 betrayed firmness, gave the character to a face that also could 
 expand into the most genial good fellowship, and become at times 
 the symbol of a pleasant and convivial Irish gentleman. In his 
 youth he had been a beau of the Court of Versailles. Scandal had 
 even coupled his name \^'ith that of Marie Antoinette ; and more 
 truthful narratives connected him with some of the most extravagant 
 adventures of that profligate and brilliant period. After a career of 
 tlie wildest dissipation and excess, he had married, late in life, the 
 daughter of the Earl of Exmere, one of the proudest and poorest 
 names in the British Peerage. Two or three attempts to shine in 
 tlie world of London — not as successfid. as they were expected to 
 liave proved — an eff"ort at ascendancy in Irish political life, also a 
 failure, coupled with disappointment on the score of an only brother, 
 wlio had married beneath him, and was reputed to have " lost 
 himself," seemed to have disgusted Godfrey Martin with the woi'ld, 
 and he had retired to his lonelv mansion in the West, which now for 
 eighteen years he had scarcely quitted for a single day. 
 
 His only son had joined a cavalry regiment in India a few years 
 before the period our story opens, and which, I may now state, dates 
 for about four or five-and-twenty years back j but his family included a
 
 28 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 niece, the only cliild of liis brotlier, and wliose mother had died in 
 giving her birth. 
 
 Between Mr. Martin and Lady Dorothea, as they sat at brealifast, 
 little conversation passed. He occupied himself with the newly- 
 arrived newspapers, and she perused a mass of letters which had just 
 come by that morning's post ; certain scraps of the intelligence 
 gleaned from either of these sources forming the only subjects of 
 conversation between them. 
 
 " So, they have resolved to have a new Parliament. I knew it 
 woidd come to that — I always said so — and, as usual, the dissolution 
 finds us unprepared." 
 
 " Plantagenet's regiment is ordered to Currachee, wherever that 
 may be," said Lady Dorothea, languidly. 
 
 " Call him Harry, and we shall save ourselves some trouble in 
 discussing him," replied he, pettishly. " At all events, he cannot 
 possibly be here in time for the contest, and we must, I suppose, 
 give our support to Kilmorris again." 
 
 " Do you mean, after his conduct about the harbour, and the 
 shameful way he sneaked out of the Port Martin project ?" 
 
 " Pind anything better. Madam, there is the difficulty. Kilmorris 
 is a gentleman, and no Eadical ; and, as times go, these are rather 
 rare qualities." 
 
 "Lady Sarah Upton's match is off," said Lady Dorothea, reading 
 from a note beside her. " Sir Joseph insisted upon the uncontrolled 
 possession of all her Staffordshire property." 
 
 "And perfectly right." 
 
 " Perfectly wrong to give it to him." 
 
 " A fool if he married without it." 
 
 "A mean creature she, to accept him on such terms." 
 
 " The w^oman is eight-and-thirty — if not more. I remember her 
 at Tunbridge. Let me see, what year was it ?" 
 
 " I detest dates, and abhor chronologies. Eeach me the marma- 
 lade," said Lady Dorothea, superciliously. 
 
 " What's this balderdash here from the Galivay Indicator. ' The 
 haughty and insolent, aye, and ignorant aristocracy will have to swal- 
 low a bitter draught ere long ; and such petty despots as Martin of 
 Cro' Martin will learn that the day is gone by for their ascendancy in 
 this county.' They tell me we have a law of libel in the land, and yet 
 see how this scoundrel can dare to drag me by name before the world ; 
 and I'll wager a thousand pounds I'd fail to get a verdict against 
 him if I prosecuted him to-morrow," said Martin, as he dashed the 
 newspaper to the ground, and stamped his foot upon it. "We are
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 29 
 
 constantly reading diatribes about absentee landlords, and the evils 
 of neglected property — but I ask, what inducements are there held 
 out to any gentleman to reside on his estate, if every petty scribbler 
 of the press can thus attack and assail him with impunity ?" 
 
 "Is that Mary I see yonder?" asked Lady Dorothea, languidly, 
 as she lifted her double eye-glass, and then sutiered it to fall from her 
 fingers. 
 
 " So it is, by Jove!" cried Martin, springing up, and approaching 
 tlie window. "I wish she'd not venture out in that small boat in. 
 this treacherous season. "What a swell there is, too. The wind is 
 from the sea." 
 
 " She's coming in, I fancy," drawled out Lady Dorothea. 
 
 "How is she to do it, thougli ?" exclaimed he, hurriedly; "the 
 sea is breaking clear over the piers of the harbour. I can only see 
 one man in the boat — what rashness — what folly ! There, look, 
 they're standing out to sea again !" And now, throwing open the win- 
 dow, Martin stepped out on the rocks, over which the white foam 
 flashed by like suow. " AVhat are they at, Peter — what are they try- 
 ing to do ?" cried he to an old fisherman, who, with the coil of a 
 net he was just mending, on his arm, had now come down to the 
 shore to watch the boat. 
 
 " They're doing right, your Honour," said he, touching his cap re- 
 spectfully ; " 'tis Loony my Lady has in the boat, and there's no 
 better man in trouble ! He's just going to beat out a bit, and then 
 he'll run in under the shelter of the blue rocks. Eaix, she's a fine 
 boat then for her size — look at her now !" 
 
 But Martin had covered his eyes with his hand, while his lips mur- 
 mured and moved rapidly. 
 
 " May I never, but they're letting out the reef!" screamed the 
 old man in terror. 
 
 " More sail, and in such a sea !" cried Martin in a voice of horror. 
 
 "Aye, and right to," said the fisherman, after a pause, — "she's 
 rising lighter over the sea, and steers better, besides. It's Miss 
 Mary has the tiller," added the old fellow, with a smile. " I'll lay ' 
 a shilling she's singing this minute." 
 
 " You think so," said INIartin, glad to catch at this gleam of con- 
 fidence. 
 
 " I know it well, your Honour. I remember one day, off Letter- 
 mullen, it was worse than this. Hurrah!" screamed he out suddenly, 
 " she took in a great sea that time !" 
 
 " Get out a boat, Peter, at once ; what are wc standing liere for r" 
 cried Martin, angrily ; " man a boat this instant."
 
 30 THE MAETINS 01" CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 " Sure no boat could get out to sea Aviili this wind, Sir," remon- 
 strated the old man, mildly ; " she'd never leave the surf, if ye had 
 forty men at her!" 
 
 "Then, what's to be done?" 
 
 " Just lot them alone, themselves two, know as well what to do 
 as any pair in Ireland, and are as cool besides. There now, she's 
 putting her about, as I said, and she'll run for the creek," The 
 frail boat, a mere speck upon the dark green ocean, seemed now to 
 fly, as with a slackened sheet she darted over the water. Her 
 course was bent for a little cove, concealed from view by a rugged 
 promontory of rock, up which the old fisherman now clambered with 
 the alacrity of a younger man. Martin tried to follow, but, overcome 
 by emotion, he was unable, and sat dowu upon a ledge of rock, bury- 
 insf his face within his hands. 
 
 By this time the whole fishing popiJation of the little village had ga- 
 thered on the beach around the cove, to watch the boat as she came in : 
 numbers had gone out to meet her, and stood up to their waists in the 
 white and boiling surf, ready to seize upon the skiif and run her higli 
 and dry upon the sand. Even they were obliged to be lashed together 
 by a rope, lest the receding waves should carry them out to sea, or the 
 " under tow"" suck them beneath the surface. As the boat came within 
 speaking distance, a wild shout arose from the shore to "down sail" 
 and sufl:er her to come in on her way alone ; but with all the canvas 
 spread, they came flying along, scarce seeming more than to tip the 
 waves as they skipped over them, while a shower of spray appeared 
 to cover them as the sea broke upon the stern. Instead of rendering 
 aid, the utmost the fishermen could do was to clear a path amongst 
 them for the skifi" to pass, as with lightning' speed she flitted by and 
 drove her bow high up on the hard beach. 
 
 A wild glad cheer of joy and welcome burst from the hearty fisher- 
 men as they crowded about the young girl, who stepped out of the 
 boat with a heavy bundle in her arms. Her hair hung in great 
 masses over her neck and shovdders, her cheeks were Hushed, and her 
 dark eyes gleamed with all the excitement of peril and triumph. 
 
 " Here, Margaret," said she to a young woman, who, pale with 
 terror and with face streaming in tears, rushed towards her — " here's 
 your little fellow, all safe and sound ; I'd not have put back but for 
 his sake." And with this she placed in his mother's arms a little boy 
 of about three years of age, sound asleep. "He must wait for better 
 weather if he wants to see his grandmother. And," added she, laugh- 
 ing, " I scarcely think you'll catch me going to sea again with so 
 precious a cargo. Poor little man," and she patted his ruddy cheeks.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 31 
 
 " he beliaved SO well, like a stout fisherman's son as he is — never 
 showed fear for a moment." 
 
 A murmur of delighted hearts ran through the crowd, some think- 
 ing of the child, but many more in warm admiration of the brave and 
 beautiful young girl before them. " Loony," said she to her boat- 
 man, " when you've got the tackle to rights, come up to the house for 
 your breakfast." And with that, and a few words of grateful recognition 
 as she passed, she clambered up the rock and hastened homeward. 
 
 As for her Uncle, no sooner had he heard of her safe arrival on 
 shore than he hurried back, anxious to reach the house before her. 
 For a considerable time back Martin had schooled himself into an 
 apparent indifterence about his Niece's perils. Lady Dorothea had 
 probably given the initiative to this feeling, by constantly asserting 
 that the young lady would incur few risks when tliey ceased to 
 create alarm. 
 
 It was a somewhat ungracious theory, and excited in Martin's 
 mind, when he first heard it, a sensation the very reverse of 
 agreeable. Without accepting its truth, however, it made a deep 
 impression upon him, and at last, by way of policy, he resolved to 
 feign a degree of callous indifterence very foreign to his nature, and, 
 by dint of mere habit, he at length acquired a semblance of calm, 
 under circumstances that sorely tested his powers of self-control. 
 
 " Has the heroine arrived safe on shore ?" asked Lady Dorothea in 
 her own languid drawl. And Martin almost started at the question, 
 and seemed for a moment as if the indignation it excited could not be 
 repressed ; then smiling half superciliously at the impassive air of her 
 features, he said : 
 
 " Yes, and by rare good luck, too ! The sea is a terrific one this 
 morning !" 
 
 " Is it ever anything else in this heavenly climate ?" said she, sigh- 
 ing. " I have counted two fine days since the 8th of June ; ai^d 
 indeed it rained a little on one of them." 
 
 Martin winced impatiently under the remark, but never lifted his 
 eyes from the newspaper. 
 
 " I had hoped your Niece was making arrangements for our return 
 to Cro' Martin," said she, querulously, " instead of planning marine 
 excursions. I told her yesterday — or the day before, I forget which ; 
 but who could remember time in such a place ! — that I was bored to 
 death here. The observation seems to amuse you, Mr. Martin, but 
 it is a simple fact." 
 
 " And you are bored to death at Cro' jMartin too, if I mistake 
 not ?" said he, with a very significant dryness.
 
 32 THE MAIITI>'S OF CRO MAETIN. 
 
 " I should tliinlv I was, Sir, and nothing very astonishing in the 
 confession besides."' 
 
 " And Dublin, Madam ?" 
 
 " Don't speak of it. If one must endure prison discipline, at least 
 let us have a cell to ourselves. Good morning, Miss Martin. I 
 hope you enjoyed your party on the water ?" 
 
 Tliis speech was addressed to Mary, who now entered the room 
 dressed in a plain morning costume, and in her quiet, almost demure 
 look, resembling in nothing the dripping and dishevelled figure that 
 sprung from the boat. 
 
 " Good morning, Aunt," said she, gaily. " Good morning, Uncle," 
 kissing, as she spoke, his cheek, and patting him fondly on the 
 shoulder. " I saw you out on the rocks as we were coming in." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh," said he, in affected indifterence. " I Imew there 
 was no danger " 
 
 " Yes but there was tliough," said she, quickly. " If we hadn't set 
 all sail on her she'd have been pooped to a certainty ; and I can tell 
 you I was in a rare fright too." 
 
 " Oh, indeed, you confess to such an ignoble emotion ?" said Lady 
 Dorotliea, with a sneer. 
 
 " That I do, Aunt, for I had poor Madge Lennan's little boy on my 
 lap all the time, and if it came to a swim, I don't sec how he was to 
 be saved." 
 
 "Tou'd not have left him to his fate, I suppose?" said Dorothea. 
 
 "I scarcely know what I should liave done. I sincerely hope it 
 would have been my best ; but in a moment like that, within sight of 
 
 home too " Her eyes met her Uncle's as she said this ; he had 
 
 raised them from his newspaper, and bent them fully on her. There 
 was that in their expression which appealed so strongly to her heart, 
 that instead of finishing her speech she sprung towards him and 
 tlirew her arms around his neck, 
 
 " Quite a scene ; and I detest scenes," said Lady Dorothea, as she 
 arose and swept out of the room contemptuously ; but they neitlier 
 lieard the remark nor noticed her departure.
 
 THE JIAETIXS OF CEO' MAETIK. 33 
 
 CHAPTER TV. 
 
 MAURICE SCAXLAN, ATTOltNE Y- AT-LA W. 
 
 Aboitt an hour after the occurrence mentioned in our last chapter, 
 the quiet little village of Kilkieran was startled by the sharp clattering 
 sounds of horses' feet, as Mr. Scanlan's tandem came sliumno; alone:: 
 and after various little dexterities amid stranded boats, disabled 
 anchors, and broken capstans, dre-w up at the gate of tlie Osprey's 
 Nest. When men devise their own equipage, they invariably impart 
 to it a strong infusion of their own idiosyncrasy. The quiet souls 
 who drag through life in chocolate-coloured barouches, witli horses 
 indifferently matched, give no clue to their special characteristics ; 
 but your men of tax-carts, and tandems, your Jehus of four-in-hand 
 teams, write their own biographies in every detail of the " turn-out." 
 
 Maurice Scanlan was a sporting Attorney, and from the group of 
 game cocks neatly painted on tlie hind panel, to the wiry, well 
 bred, and well looking screws before him, all was indicative of the 
 man. The conveyance was high, and red-wheeled ; the nags were a 
 chesnut and a grey; he drove them without winkers or beariug- 
 reins, wearing his white hat a very little on one side, and gracefullv 
 tilting his elbow as he admonished the wheeler with the "crop" of 
 his whip. He was a good-looking, showy, vulgar, self-sufficient kind 
 of fellow, with consummate shrewdness in all business transactions, 
 only marred by one solitary weak point — an intense desire to be 
 received intimately by persons of a station above his ov.-n, and to 
 seem, at least, to be the admitted guest of very fashionable society. 
 It was not a very easy matter to know if this Lord-worship of his 
 was real, or merely affected, since certainly the profit he derived froin 
 the assumption was very considerable, and Maurice was entrusted 
 with a variety of secret-service transactions, and private affairs for the 
 Nobility, which they would never have dreamed of committiug to the 
 hands of their more recognised advisers. 
 
 If men would have been slow to engage his services in any crave or 
 important suit, he was invaluable in all the ordinary and constantly- 
 occurring events of this changeful Avorld. Ho knew every one's difll- 
 culties and embarrassments. There was not a hitch in a settlement, 
 nor a spavin in your stables, could escape him. He seemed to possess 
 a kind of intuitive appreciation of a flaw ; and he pounced upon a
 
 34 THE MAETTNS OF CEO' IvrARTIN. 
 
 defect witli a rapidity tliat counterfeited genius. To these gifts he 
 added a consummate knowledge of his countrymen. He had emerged 
 from the very humblest class of the people, and he knew them 
 thoroughly ; with all their moods of habitual distrust and momentary 
 enthusiasm — with all their phases of sanguine hopefulness he was 
 familiar; and he could mould, and fashion, and wield them to his 
 will, as passive subjects as the heated bar under the hammer of the 
 smith. 
 
 As an Electioneering Agent he was unequalled. It was precisely 
 the sphere in which his varied abilities were best exercised ; and it 
 was, besides, an arena in which he was proud of figuring. For a 
 while he seemed — at least in his own eyes — to stand on a higher 
 eminence than the candidate he represented, and to be a more pro- 
 minent and far grander personage than his principal. In fact, it was 
 only under some tacit acknowledgment of this temporary supremacy 
 that his services were obtainable ; his invariable stipulation being, 
 that he was to have the entire and uncontrolled direction of the 
 Election. 
 
 Envious tongues and ungenerous talkers did, indeed, say that 
 Maurice insisted upon this condition with very different objects in 
 view, and that his unlimited powers found their pleasantest exercise in 
 the inexplorable realms of secret bribery ; however, it is but fair to 
 say, that he was eminently successful, and that one failure alone in 
 his w^hole career occurred to show the proverbial capriciousness of 
 fortune. 
 
 "With the little borough of Oughtcrard he had become so identified 
 that his engagement was regarded as one of the first elements of suc- 
 cess. Hitherto, indeed, the battle had been always an easy one. 
 The Liberal party — as they pleasantly assumed to style themselves 
 — had gone no further in opposition than an occasional burst of 
 intemperate language, and an effort — usually a failure — at a street 
 row during the Election. So little of either energy or organisation 
 had marked their endeavours, that the great leader of the day had 
 stigmatised their town with terms of heavy censxu'e, and even pro- 
 nounced them unworthy of the cause. An emissary, deputed to 
 report upon the political state of the borough, had described the 
 voters as mere dependants on the haughty purse-proud proprietor 
 of Cro' Martin, who seemed, even without an eflbrt, to nominate the 
 sitting Member. 
 
 The great measure of the year '29 — the Catholic Eelief BUI — 
 had now, however, suggested to even more apathetic constituencies 
 the prospect of a successful struggle. The thought of being repre-
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 35 
 
 sented by " one of their own sort" was no mean stimulant to exer- 
 tion ; and the leading spirits of the place had frequently conferred 
 together as to what steps should be taken to x'escue the borough from 
 the degrading thraldom of an aristocratic domination. Lord Kil- 
 morris, it is true, was rather popular with them than the reverse. 
 The eldest son of an Earl, who only cared to sit in Parliament on 
 easy terms, till the course of time and events should call him to the 
 Upper House, he never took any very decided political line, but sat 
 on Tory benches and gave an occasional vote to Liberal measures, as 
 though foreshadowing that new school who were to take the field 
 under the middle designation of Conservatives. Some very remote 
 relationship to Lady Dorothea's family had first introduced him to 
 the Martins' notice ; and partly from this connexion, and partly 
 because young Harry Martin was too young to sit in Parliament, 
 they had continued to support him to the present time. 
 
 Mr. Martin, himself, cared very little for politics ; had he even 
 cared more he would not have sacrificed to them one jot of that 
 indolent, lazy, apathetic existence which alone he seemed to prize. 
 He was rather grateful than otherwise to Lord Kilmorris for taking 
 upon him the trouble of a contest, if there should be such a thing. 
 His great excuse througli life, at least to himself, had ever been, that 
 he was "unprepared." He had been in that luihappy state about 
 everything since he was born, and so, apparently, was he destined 
 to continue to the very last. With large resources, he was never 
 prepared for any sudden demand for money. When called on for 
 any exertion of mind or body — when asked to assist a friend, or 
 rescue a relation from difficulty, he was quite unprepared ; and so 
 convinced was he that this was a fatality under which he laboured, 
 that no sooner had ho uttered the expression than he totally absolved 
 himself from every shadow of reproach that might attach to his 
 lukewarmness. 
 
 The uncontrolled position he occupied, joined to the solitary isola- 
 tion in which he lived, had doubtless engendered this cold and 
 heartless theory. There was no one to dispute his will — none to 
 gainsay his opinions. There was not for him any occasion for the 
 healthful exertion which is evoked by opposition, and he sunk 
 gradually down into a moping, listless, well-meaning, but utterly 
 good-for-nothing Gentleman, who would have been marvellously 
 amazed had any one arraigned him for neglect of his station and its 
 great requirements. 
 
 That such an insolent possibility could be, was only demonstrated 
 
 J).2
 
 30 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 to liim in tliat morning's newspaper. To be called a despot was bad 
 enough, but a petty despot — and to be told that sucb despotism was 
 already doomed — aroused in him a degree of indignation all the more 
 painful that the sensation was one he had not experienced for many 
 a year back. AVhose fault was it that such an impertinence had ever 
 been uttered ? Doubtless, Kilmorris's. Some stupid speech, some ab- 
 surd vote, some ridiculous party move had brought down this attacic 
 upon him ; or perhaps it was Mary, with her new-fangled ideas about 
 manafiincr the estate, her school-houses, and her model farms. The 
 ignorant people had possibly revolted against her interference ; or it 
 might be Lady Dorothea herself, whose haughty manner had given 
 offence ; at all events, lie was blameless, and strange to say, eitlier 
 he was not perfectly assured of the fact, or that the assumption 
 was not pleasant, but he seemed very fixr from being satisfied witli 
 the explanation. In the agitated mood these feelings produced, a 
 servant came to inform him that Mr. Scanlan had just arrived. 
 
 " Say I'm out — I'm unwell — I don't feel quite myself to-day. Call 
 Miss Mary to him." And with an impatient gesture he motioned 
 the servant away. 
 
 "Miss Mary will be down in a few minutes, Sir," said the man, 
 entering the room Avhere Mr. Scanlan stood arranging his whiskers 
 before the chimney-glass, and contemplating with satisfaction his 
 general appearance. 
 
 " It was Mr. Martin himself, Thomas, that I wanted to see." 
 " I know that. Sir, but the Master isn't well this morning ; he told 
 me to send Miss Mary to you." 
 
 " All right," said Scanlan, giving a finishing touch to the tie of his 
 cravat, and then gracefully bestowing his person into an easy-chair. 
 To common observation he looked perfectly unconcerned in every 
 gesture, and yet no man felt less at his ease at that moment than Mr. 
 Maurice Scanlan ; and though the cause involves something like a 
 secret, the reader shall know it. Mr. Scanlan had seen a good deal 
 of the Avorld— that is, of Ids world. He had mixed with Barristers 
 and Solicitors, " Silk Gowns," Masters in Chancery, and even Puisne 
 Judges had ho come into contact with ; he had mingled in turf 
 exiieriences with certain sporting Lords and Baronets, swapped 
 horses, and betted and handicapped with men of fortune ; he had 
 driven trotting-matches, and ridden hurdle-races against young heirs 
 to good estates, and somehow always found himself not inferior in 
 worldly craft and address to those he came into contact with— nay, he 
 even fancied that he was occasionally rather a little more wide-awake 
 than his opponents ; and what with a little blustering, here, a little
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 37 
 
 blarney, there, a dasli of mock frankness to this man, or an air of im- 
 pulsive generosity to the other — an accommodating elasticity, in fact, 
 that extended to morals, manners, and principles — he found that he 
 was, as he himself styled it, " a fair match with equal weights for any- 
 thing going." There was but one individual alone in presence of whom 
 he in reality felt his own inferiority deeply and painfully ; strange 
 to say, that was Miss Martin ! At first sight this would seem almost 
 unintelligible. She was not either a haughty beauty, presuming on 
 the homage bestowed upon her by high and distinguished admirers, 
 nor was she any greatly gifted and cultivated genius, dominating 
 over lesser intelligences by the very menace of her acquirements. 
 She was simply a high-spirited, frank, unaffected girl, whose good 
 breeding and good sense seemed alike instinctive, and, who read with 
 almost intuition the shallow artifices by which such natures as 
 Scanlan's impose upon the world. She had seen liim easily indolent 
 with her Uncle, obsequiously deferential to my Lady, all in the same 
 breath, while the side-look of tyranny he could throw a refractory 
 tenant appeared just as congenial to his nature. 
 
 It was some strange consciousness which told him he could not 
 deceive her, that made Scaulan ever abaslied in her presence, and by 
 the self-same impulse was it that she was the only one in the world 
 for whose good esteem he would have sacrificed all he possessed. 
 
 While he waited for her coming he took a leisurely survey of the 
 room. The furniture, less costly and rich than at Cro' Martin, was all 
 marked by that air of propriety and comfort so observable in rich 
 men's houses. There were the hundred appliances of ease and luxury, 
 that show how carefully the most trifling inconveniences are warded 
 off, and the course of daily life rendered as untroubled as mere 
 material enjoyments can secure. Scanlan sighed deeply, for the 
 thought crossed his mind how was a girl brought up in this way ever 
 to stoop to ally lier fortune to a man like him ? Was it, then, possible 
 that he nourished such a presumption ? Even so. Maurice was of 
 an aspiring turn ; he had succeeded in twenty things that a dozen 
 years past he had never dared to dream of. He had dined at tables, and 
 driven with men whose butlers and valets he once deemed very choice 
 company ; ho had been tlic guest at houses where once his highest 
 ambition had been to see the interior as a matter of curiosity. " Who 
 could say where he might be at last ?" Besides this, he knew from his 
 own knowledge of family matters that she had no fortune, that her 
 father was infinitely more likely to leave debts than an inheritance 
 behind him, and that her Uncle was the last man in the world ever to 
 think of a marriage-portion for one he could not afi'ord to part with.
 
 38 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETITT. 
 
 There was, then, no saying what turn of fortune might present 
 him in an admissible form as a suitor. At all events, there was no 
 rival in the field, and Maurice had seen many a prize won by a " walk 
 over" purely for want of a competitor in the race. 
 
 Notwithstanding all tliese very excellent and reassuring conside- 
 rations, Maurice Scanlan could not overcome a most uncomfortable 
 sense of awkwardness as Maiy Martin entered the room, and saluting 
 him with easy familiarity, said, " I'm quite ashamed of having made 
 you wait, Mr. Scanlan ; but I was in the village when I got my 
 Uncle's message. I find that he is not well enough to receive you, 
 and if I can " 
 
 " I'm sure it's only too much honoiir you do me, Miss Mary ; I 
 never expected to have the pleasure of this interview ; indeed,^ it will 
 be very hard for me to think of business at all at all." 
 
 " That would be most unfortunate after your coming so far on 
 account of it," said she, half archly, while she seated herself on a 
 sofa at some distance from him. 
 
 " If it were a question about the estate, Miss Mary," said he, in his 
 most obsequious manner, "there's nobody equal to yourself; or if it 
 were anything at all but what it is, I know well that you'd see your 
 way out of it ; but tlie present is a matter of politics — it's about the 
 borough." 
 
 "That weary borough," said she, sighing; "and are we about to 
 have another Election?" 
 
 "That's it. Miss Mary; and Lord Kilmorris writes me to say 
 that he'll be over next week, and hopes he'll find all his friends here 
 as well disposed towards him as ever." 
 
 " Has he written to my Uncle ?" asked Marj^ hastily. 
 
 " No ; and that's exactly what I came about ; there was a kind of 
 a coldness— more my Lady's, I think, than ou Mr. Martin's part ; and 
 Lord Kilmorris feels a kind of delicacy — in fact, he doesn't rightly 
 know how he stands at Cro' Martin"— here he paused, in hopes that 
 she would help him by even a word, but she was perfectly silent and 
 attentive, and he went on—" so that, feeling himself embarrassed, and 
 at the same time knowing how much he owes to the Martin in- 
 terest " 
 
 " Well, go on," said she, calmly, as he came a second time to a dead 
 stop. 
 
 " It isn't so easy, then. Miss Mary," said he, with a long sigh, "for 
 there are so many things enter into it— so much of politics and party 
 and what not— that I quite despair of making myself intelligible ; 
 though, perhaps, if I was to see your Uncle he'd make out my mean- 
 ing."
 
 THE MAKXINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 39 
 
 " Shall I try and induce him to receive you, theu ?" said she, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Well, then, I don't like asking it," said he, doubtfully ; " for, after 
 all, there's nobody can break it to him as well as yourself." 
 
 '■ Break it to him, Mr. Scaulau ?" said she, in astonishment, 
 
 "Eaith, it's the very word, then," said he, " for do what one will, 
 say what they may, it will be sure to surprise him, if it does no 
 worse." 
 
 " You alarm me, Sir ; and yet I feel that if you would speak boldly 
 out your meaning there is probably no cause for fear." 
 
 " I'll just do so, then, Miss Mary ; but at the same time I'd have 
 you to understand that I'm taking a responsibility on myself that 
 his Lordship never gave me any warrant for, and that there is not 
 
 another " Mr. Scanlan stopped, but only in time, for, whether it 
 
 was the fervour in which he uttered these words, or that Miss Martin, 
 anticipated what was about to follow, her cheek became scarlet, and a 
 most unmistakable expression of her eyes recalled the worthy prac- 
 titioner to all his wonted caution. " The matter is this, Miss Martin," 
 said he, with a degree of deference more marked than before, " Lord 
 Kilmorris is dissatisfied with the way your TJncle supported him at 
 the last Election ; he complains of the hard conditions imposed upon 
 him as to his line of conduct in the House ; and, above all, he feels 
 insulted by a letter Lady Dorothea wrote him, full of very harsh ex- 
 pressions and liurd insinuations — I never saw it myself, but that's his 
 account of it. In fact, he's very angry." -.< ': 
 
 " And means to throw up the borough, in short," broke in Mary. 
 
 "I'm afraid not. Miss Mary," said the other, in a half whisper. 
 
 "What then ? — what can he purpose doing ?" 
 
 " lie means to try and come in on his own interest," said Scanlan, 
 who uttered the words with an eftbrt, and seemed to feel relief when 
 they were out. 
 
 " Am I to understand that he would contest the borough with us ?" 
 
 Scanlan nodded an aiilnnative. 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Scanlan, this is some mistake — sometnisapprehensiou 
 on your part ; his Lordship may very possibly feel aggrieved — he may 
 have some cause, for aught I know, about something in the last Elec- 
 tion, but this mode of resenting it is quite out of the question — 
 downright impossible." 
 
 " The best way is to read his own words, Miss Martin. Tliere's his 
 letter," said he, handing one towards her, which, however, she made 
 no motion to take. 
 
 " If you won't read it, then, perhaps you will permit me to do so.
 
 40 THE MA-UTIXS OF CRO' MARTIIT. 
 
 It's very short, too, for lie says at the end he will write more fully to- 
 morrow." ^Ir. Scaulaii here muttered over several lines of the epistle 
 until he came to the following : " 'I am relieved from any embarrassment 
 I should have felt at breaking with the IMartins by reflecting over the 
 altered conditions of party, and the new aspect politics must assume 
 by the operation of the Emancipation Act. The old ways and tradi- 
 tions of the Tories must be abandoned at once and for ever ; and 
 though Martin in his life of seclusion and solitude Avill not perceive 
 this necessity, we here all see and admit it. I could, therefore, no 
 longer represent his opinions, since they would find no echo in the 
 House. To stand for the borough I must stand on my own views, 
 which, I feel bold to say, include justice to both of the contending 
 factions.' " 
 
 " Admirably argued," broke in Mary. " He absolves himself from 
 all ties of gratitude to my Uncle by adopting principles the reverse of 
 all he ever professed." 
 
 " It's very like that, indeed, Miss Mary," said Scanlan, timidly. 
 
 " Very like it, Sir ; it is exactly so. Really, the thing would be too 
 gross if it were not actually laughable;" and as she spoke she arose 
 and paced the room in a manner that showed how very little of the 
 ludicrous side of the matter occupied her thoughts. " He will stand 
 for the borough — he means to stand in opposition to us ?" 
 
 " That's his intention — at least, if Mr. Martin should not come to 
 the conclusion that it is better to support his Lordship than risk 
 throwing the seat into the hands of the Eoman Catholics." 
 
 " I can't follow all these intrigues, Mr. Scanlan. I confess to you, 
 franldy, that you have puzzled me enough already, and that I have 
 found it no small strain on my poor faculties to conceive a Gentleman 
 being able to argue himself into any semblance of self-approval by such 
 sentiments as those which you ha-\'e just read ; but I am a poor country 
 girl, very ignorant of great topics and great people. The best thing 
 I can do is to represent this aiiair to my Uncle, and as early as 
 may be." 
 
 " I hope he'll not take the thing to heart, Miss ; and I trust he'U 
 acquit me " 
 
 " Be assured he'll despise the whole business most thoroughly, Sir. 
 I never knew him take any deep interest in these themes : and if this 
 be a fair specimen of the way they are discussed, he Avas all the wiser 
 for his iudiflbrence. Do you make any stay in the village ? Will it be 
 inconvenient for you to remain an hour or so ?" 
 
 '^ I'll wait your convenience, Miss, to any hour," said Scanlan, with
 
 ^^ ''If 
 
 aI 
 
 §\ 
 
 
 ^ Vi 
 
 ^ 
 
 :f!v,
 
 THE MAKTIIsS OF CEO' MAETIN. 41 
 
 an air of gallantry wliicli, had she been less occupied with her 
 thoughts, might have pushed her hard to avoid smiling at. 
 
 " I'll be down at Mrs. Cronan's till I hear from you, Miss Mary." 
 And with a look of as much deferential admiration as he dared to 
 bestow, Scanlan took his leave, and mounting to his box, assumed the 
 ribbons with a graceful elegance and a certain lackadaisical languor 
 that, to himself at least, appeared demonstrative of an advanced stage 
 of the tender passion. 
 
 " Begad, she's a fine girl ; devil a lie in it, but she hasn't her 
 equal ! and as sharp as a needle, too," muttered he, as he jogged along 
 the shingly beach, probably for the first time in his whole life for- 
 getting the efiect he was producing on the bystanders. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 A STUDIO AND AN ARTIST. 
 
 " Is my Uncle in the Library, Terence ?" asked Mary of a very 
 corpulent old man, in a red-brown wig. 
 
 " No, Miss, he's in the — bother it, then, if I ever can think of the 
 name of it." 
 
 " The Studio, you mean," said she, smiling. 
 
 "Just so, Miss Mary," replied he, with a sigh, for he remembered 
 certain penitential hours passed by himself in the same locality. 
 
 " Do you think you could manage to let him know I want him — 
 that is, that I have something important to say to him?" 
 
 "It's clean impossible. Miss, to get near him when he's there. 
 Sure, isn't he up on a throne, di-esscd ovit in goold and dimonds, 
 and as cross as a badger besides, at the way they're tormenting him ?" 
 
 " Oh, that tiresome picture, is it never to be completed ?" muttered 
 she, half unconsciously. 
 
 " The saints above know whether it is or no," rejoined Terence, 
 " for one of the servants told me yesterday that they rubbed every bit 
 of the Master out and began him all again, for my Lady said he 
 wasn't half haggard enough, or worn-looking ; but by my conscience 
 if he goes on as he's/loing he ought to satisfy them." 
 
 " AVhy, I thought it was Henderson was sitting," said Mary, some- 
 what amused at the old man's commentaries.
 
 4,2 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETHST. 
 
 " So he was ; but they rubbed hiiu out, too, for it seems now he 
 ou^^ht to be bald, and they've sent him into Oughterard to get his 
 head shaved." 
 
 " And what were you, Terry ?" 
 
 "Arrah, wlio knows?" said he, querulously. "At first I was to 
 be somebodv's mother that was always cryiu' ; but they weren't 
 pleased with the way I done it, and then they made me a monk, and 
 after that they put two huudrcd-weight of armour on me, and made 
 me lean my head on my arm as if I was overcome ; and faith, so I 
 was, for I dropped off" asleep, and fell into a pot of varnish, and I'm 
 in disgrace now, glory be to God ! and I only hope it may last." 
 
 " I wish I shared your fortune, Terry, with all my heart," said 
 Mary, with some difficulty preserving her gravity. 
 
 " Couldn't it catch fire — by accident, I mean. Miss — some evening 
 after dark ?" whispered Terry, confidentially. " Them's matarials 
 that would burn easy ! for upon my conscience if it goes on much 
 longer there won't be a sarvant will stay in the sarvice. They had 
 little Tom Eegan holding a dish of charcoal so long that he tuk to 
 his bed on Triday last, and was never up since ; and Jinny Moore 
 says she'd rather lave the place than wear that undacent dress ; and 
 whisht, there's murder goin' on now inside !" And with that the old 
 fellow waddled oil" witli a speed that seemed quite disproportioned to 
 his years. 
 
 While Mary was still hesitating as to what she should do, the door 
 suddenly opened, and a man in a mediaeval costume rushed out, 
 tuggiug after him a large bloodhound, whose glaring eyeballs and 
 frothy mouth betokened intense passion. Passing hurriedly forward, 
 Mary beheld Lady Dorothea bending over the fainting figure of a 
 short little man, who lay on the floor, while her Uncle, tottei-ing 
 under a costume he could barely carry, was trying to sprinkle water 
 over him from an urn of three feet in height. 
 
 "Mr. Crow has fainted — mere fright, nothing more!" said Lady 
 Dorothea. " In stepping backward from the canvas he unluckily 
 trod upon Fang's paw, and the savage creature at once sprung on 
 him. That stupid wretch, Eegan, one of your favourites. Miss 
 Martin, never pulled him off till he had torn poor Mr. Crow's coat 
 clean in two." 
 
 " Egad, if I hadn't smaslied my sceptre over the dog's head the 
 mischief wouldn't have stopped tliere ; but he's coming to. Are you 
 better. Crow ? How do you feel, man ?" 
 
 " I hope you are better, Sn ?" said Lady Dorothea, in an admirable 
 blending of grand benevolence and condescension.
 
 ■\
 
 THE MAEXrXS OF CEO' MAETI>'. 43 
 
 " Infinitely better — supremely happy besides, to have become the 
 object of your Ladyship's kind inquiries," said the little man, sitting 
 up, and looking around with a very ghastly effort at urbanity and ease. 
 
 " I never knew Fang to bite any one," said Mary. 
 
 " Doesn't she, by jingo!" exclaimed the Artist, who with difficulty 
 caught himself in time before he placed his hand on the supposed seat 
 of his iujuries. 
 
 " She shall be muzzled in future," said Lady Dorothea, haughtily, 
 repressing the familiar tone of the discussion. 
 
 " I think — indeed I feel sure, I could get her in from memory, my 
 Lady ; she's a very remarkable creature, and malces an impression on 
 one." As he uttered these words ruefully, he lifted from the floor the 
 fragment of his coat-skirt, and gazed mournfully at it. 
 
 " I suppose we must suspend proceedings," said Lady Dorothea ; 
 " though really it is a pity to lose the opportunity of Miss Martin's 
 presence — an lionour she so very rarely accords us." 
 
 " I think after a few miuutes or so, my Lady, I might feel equal," 
 said Mr. Crow, rising and retreating to a wall, with a degree of 
 caution that showed he entertained grave fears as to the state of his 
 habiliments — " I might feel equal, if not exactly to delineate IMiss 
 IMartin's classic features, at least to throw in " 
 
 " I couldn't think of such a thing ; I should be wretched at the idea 
 of engaging your attention at such a moment," said Mary, with a 
 carelessness that contrasted strongly with her words ; while she added 
 with earnestness, "Besides, I'm not sure I could spare the time." 
 
 " You see. Sir," said her Ladyship to the Artist, " you have to deal 
 with a young lady wliose occupations are like tliose of a Premier. 
 The Duke of AVellington can vouchsafe a sitting for his portrait, but 
 Miss IMartin cannot spare the time for it." 
 
 " Nay, Aunt Dorothy, if I were the Duke of AVelliugton I should 
 do as he does. It is being Mary Miu'tiu, whose picture can liave no 
 interest for any one, enables me to follow the bent of my own wishes." 
 
 " Humility is another of her perfections," said Lady Dorotliea, 
 with a look that but too palpably expressed her feeling towards her 
 Niece. 
 
 As Mary was assisting her Uncle to get rid of some of liis super- 
 fluous draperies, neither of them overheard this remark ; while IVIr. 
 Crow was too deeply impressed with his own calamities to pay any 
 attention to it, 
 
 " Mr. Scanlan has been very anxious to see you. Uncle," whispered 
 Mary in his ear. " He has something of importance to communicate 
 about the borough."
 
 44 THE MAETINS OP CKO' MAETIN". 
 
 " Can't you manage it yourself, Molly ? Can't you contrive some- 
 how to spare me this annoyance?" 
 
 " But you really ought to hear what he has to say." 
 
 " I perceive that Miss Martin has a secret of moment to impart to 
 you; pray let me not trouble the interview by my presence," said 
 Lady Dorothea. And slie swept haughtily out of the room, throwing 
 a most disdainful glance at her husband as she went, 
 
 " There, by George ! you've secured me a pleasant afternoon at all 
 events!" said Martin, angrily, to his Niece, as, throwing off the last 
 remnant of his regal costume, he rushed out, banging the door pas- 
 sionately behind him. 
 
 ]Mary sat down to compose her thoughts in quiet, for Mr. Crow had 
 previously made his escape unobserved ; and truly there was need of 
 some repose for her agitated and wearied faculties. Her Uncle's de- 
 pendence upon her for everything, and her Aunt's jealousy of the 
 influence she had over him, placed her in a position of no common diffi- 
 culty, and one of which every day seemed to increase the embarrass- 
 ment. For a moment she thought she would have preferred a life of 
 utter insignificance and obscurity, but as suddenly it occurred to her : 
 " "What had I been without these duties and these cares ? Por me there 
 are few, if any, of the ties that bind other girls to their homes. I have 
 neither mother nor sister ; I have none of the resources which educa- 
 tion suggests to others. My mind cannot soar above the realities 
 that surround me, and seek for its enjoyments in the realms of fancy ; 
 but, perhaps, I can do better," said she, proudly, " and make of these 
 same every-day materials the poetry of an actual existence." As she 
 spoke she threw open the window, and walked out upon the terrace 
 over the sea. The fishermen's boats were all standing out from shore 
 — a tiuy fleet, whose hardy crews had done no discredit to the 
 proudest three-decker. Though the heavy gale of the morning had 
 gone down, it still blew fresh, and a long rolling swell thundered 
 along in-shore, and sent a deep booming noise through many a rocky 
 cavern. High above tliis deafening clamour, however, rose the hearty 
 cheers of the fishermen as they detected Mary's figure where she 
 stood, and many a tattered rag of showy bunting was hoisted to do 
 her honour. Never insensible to such demonstrations, Mary felt at 
 the moment almost overpowered with emotion. But a moment back 
 and she bewailed her isolation and friendlessness ; and see, here were 
 hundreds who would have resigned life in her behalf Still as the 
 boats receded the wind bore to her ears the welcome sounds; and 
 as she heard them, her heart seemed to expand and swell with
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 45 
 
 generous thouglits and good Axislies, while along her clieeks heavy 
 tears were rolling. 
 
 "What need have I of other friends than such as these?" cried 
 she, passionately. " TJiei/ understand me, and I them ; and as for the 
 great world, we are not made for each other!" 
 
 "My own sentiments to a 'T,' Miss," said a soft, mincing voice 
 behind her ; and Mary turned and beheld Mr. Crow. He had 
 arrayed himself in a small velvet skull-cap and a blouse, and stood 
 mixing the colours on his palette in perfect composure. " I'm 
 afraid. Miss Martin, there's an end of the great " Historical." 
 Your Uncle will scarcely be persuaded to put on the robes again, and 
 it's a downright pity. I was getting a look of weariness — imbecility I 
 might call it — into his features that would have crowned the work." 
 
 " I don't think I ever Icuew what your subject was !" said she, holf 
 indolently. 
 
 " The Abdication of Charles V., Miss Martin," said he, proudly. 
 " This is the fourteenth time I have depicted it ; and never, I am 
 bound to say, with more favourable " studies." Your Uncle is fine; 
 my Lady, gorgeous ; I don't say what I'd like of another lovely and 
 gifted individual ; but even down to that old rogue of a butler that 
 would insist on taking snuff through the bars of his helmet, they were 
 all grand, Miss — positively grand!" Seeing that she appeared to 
 bestow some attention to him, Mr. Crow went on : " You see. Miss, 
 iu the beginning of a great effort of this kind there is no progress 
 made at all. The sitters keep staring at one another, each amused 
 at some apparent absurdity in costume or attitude ; and then, if you 
 ask them to call up a look of love, hate, jealousy, or the like, — it's a 
 grin you get — a grin that would shame a hyena. By degrees, how- 
 ever, they grow used to tlie situation ; they ' tone do\ATi,' as one might 
 say, and learn to think less of themselves, and be more natural. It 
 was sheer fatigue, downright exha\istion, and nothing else, was 
 making your Uncle so fine ; and if he could have been kept on low 
 diet — I didn't like to mention it, though I often wished it — I'd have 
 got a loolc of cadaverous madness into his face that would have 
 astonished you." 
 
 By this time Mr. Crow had approached his canvas, and was work- 
 ing away vigorously, the action of his brush appearing to stimulate 
 his loquacity. Mary drew near to observe him, and insensibly felt at- 
 tracted by that fascination which the progress of a picture invariably 
 possesses. 
 
 "This is the Queen," continued lie ; "she's crying — as well she 
 might, — she doesn't rightly know whether the old fellow's out of his
 
 46 THE MJLETINS OF CEO' MAIITIN. 
 
 mind or not ; she has her misgivings, and she doesn't half like that old 
 thief of a Jesuit that's whispering in the King's ear. This was to be 
 you, Miss Martin ; you were betrothed to one of the young Princes, 
 but somehow you weren't quite right in your head, and you are look- 
 in"' on, rather move amused, you perceive, than in any way moved ; 
 you were holding up your beautiful petticoat, all covered with gold 
 and precious stones, as much as to say, ' Ain't I fine this morning ?' 
 when you heard the lierald's trumpet announce the Prince of Orange ; 
 and there he is — or there ho ought to be — coming in at the door. 
 There's a chap pulling the curtain aside ; but I suppose, now," added 
 he, with a sigh, " we'U never see the Prince there!" 
 
 " But where could you have found a study for your Prince, Mr. 
 Crow?" 
 
 " I have him here, Miss," said Crow, laying down his brush to 
 take a small sketch-book from the pocket of his blouse. " I have 
 him here ; and there wouldn't have been a finer head in the canvas — 
 pale, stem- looking, but gentle withal ; a fellow that would say ' Lead 
 them to the scaffold,' as easy as winking, and that would tremble 
 and falter under the eye of a woman he loved. There he is, now — 
 the hair, you know, I put in myself, and the bit of beard, just for a 
 little Titian effect, but the eyes are his own, and the mouth not as 
 good as his own." 
 
 " It's a striking head, indeed," said Mary, still contemplating it 
 attentively. . 
 
 " That's exactly what it is ; none of your common brain-boxes, but 
 a grand specimen of the classic head, civilised down to a mediaeval 
 period ; the forty-first descendant of an Emperor or a Proconsul, 
 living at the Pincian Hall, or at his Villa on the Tiber, sitting for 
 his likeness to Giordano." 
 
 " There is a painful expression in the features, too," added she, 
 slowly. 
 
 " So there is ; and I believe he's in bad health." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Mary, starting. "I quite forgot there was an 
 original all this time." 
 
 " He's alive ; and Avhat's more, he's not a mile from where we're 
 standing." Mr. Crow looked cautiously about him as he spoke, as if 
 fearful of being overheard, and then approaching close to Miss 
 Martin, and dropping his voice to a whisper, said, " I can venture to 
 tell you what I daren't tell my Lady — for I know well if she suspected 
 who it was would be the Prince of Orange, begad I might abdicate 
 too, as well as the Bjing. That young man there is the son of 
 a grocer in Oughterard — true, every word of it — Dan Nelligan's
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 47 
 
 son ! and you may fancy now what chance he'd have of seeing himself 
 on that canvas if her Ladyship knew it." 
 
 " Is this the youth who has so distinguished himself at College ?" 
 asked Mary. 
 
 " The very one. I made that sketch of him when he was reading 
 for the medal ; he didn't know it, for I was in a window opposite, 
 where he couldn't see me ; and when I finished he leaned his chin in 
 his hand and looked up at the sky, as if thinking, and the expression 
 of his up-turned face, \\ith the lips a little apart, was so fine that I 
 took it down at once, and there it is," said he, turning over the 
 page and presenting a few pencil lines lightly but spiritedly drawn. 
 
 " A young gentleman left this packet, Miss Mary, and said it was 
 for you," said a servant, presenting a small sealed enclosure. Mary 
 Martin blushed deeply, and she opened the parcel, out of which fell 
 her 0"\vn glove, with a card. 
 
 " The very man we were talking of," said Mr. Crow, lifting it up 
 and handing it to her. " Joseph Nelligan. That's like the old 
 
 proverb ; talk of the " but she was gone ere he could finish his 
 
 quotation. 
 
 " There she goes," said Crow, sorrowfully, " and if she'd have 
 stayed ten minutes more I'd have had her all complete !" and he con- 
 templated with glowing satisfaction a hasty sketch he had just made 
 in his book. " It's like her — far more than anything I have done 
 
 yet ; but after all " and he shook his head mournfully as he felt 
 
 the poor pretension of his eiforts. " Small blame to me to fad, any- 
 how," added he, after a pause. " It would take Titian himself to 
 paint her ; and even he couldn't give all the softness and delicacy of 
 the expression — that would take Eaffaelle ; and Vandyke for her 
 eyes, when they flash out at times ; and Giordano for the hair. Oh, 
 if he could have seen it just as I did a minute ago, when the wind blew 
 it back, and the sunlight fell over it ! Arrah !" cried he, impatiently, 
 as with a passionate gesture he tore the leaf from his book and 
 crushed it in his hand — " arrah ! What right have I even to 
 attempt it ?" And he sat down, covering his face with his hands, to 
 muse and mourn in silence. 
 
 Simpson — or as he was more generally known, Simmy Crow — was 
 neither a Michael Angelo nor a Kaffaelle, but he was a simple-minded, 
 honest-hearted creature, whose life had been a long hand-to-hand 
 fight with fortune. Originally a drawing-master in some country 
 academy, the caprice — for it was little else — of a whimsical old lady 
 had sent him abroad to study ; that is, sent him to contemplate the 
 very highest triumphs of genius with a mind totally unprepared and
 
 4S THE ilAETINS OF CRO' MAETI:N-. 
 
 uucultlvated— to gaze ou tlie grandest conceptions without the 
 shadow of a clue to them— and to try and pick up the secrets of art 
 when he stood in utter ignorance of its first principles. The conse- 
 quence was, he went wild, in the enthusiasm of his admiration ; he 
 became a passionate worshipper at tlic shrine, but never essayed to be 
 priest at the altar. Disgusted and dis])irited by his own miserable 
 attempts, he scarcely ever touched a pencil, but roved from city to 
 city, and from gallery to gallery entranced — enchanted by a fascina- 
 tion that gradually insinuated itself into his very being, and made up 
 the Avhole aim and object of his thoughts. This idolatry imparted an 
 ecstasy to his existence tliat lifted him above every accident of fortune ; 
 
 poor, hungry, and ill-clad, he still could enter a gallery or a 
 
 church — sit down before a Guide or a Eembrandt, and forget all, 
 save the glorious creation before him. By tlie sudden death of his 
 patroness he was left, without a shilling, hundreds of miles from home. 
 Humble as his requirements were, he could not supply them ; he 
 oftered to teach, but it was in a land where all have access to the 
 best models ; he essayed to copy, but his efforts were unsaleable. To 
 return home to his country was now his great endeavour, and after 
 innumerable calamities and reverses, he did arrive in England, whence 
 ho made his way to Ireland, poorer than he had quitted it. 
 
 Had he retvu-ned in better plight — had he come back with some of 
 the appearance of success, the chances are that he might have thriven 
 on the accidents of fame ; but he was famishing and in beggary. 
 Some alleged that he was a worthless fellow, who had passed a life of 
 idleness and debauch ; others, that he was not without ability, but 
 that his habits of dissipation rendered him hopeless ; and a few — a 
 very few — pitied him as a weak-brained enthusiast, who had no bad 
 about him, but was bom to failure ! 
 
 In his utter destitution he obtained work as a house-painter — an 
 employment which he followed for three or four years, and in which 
 capacity lie had been sent by liis master to paint some ornamental 
 stucco-work at Cro' Martin. The ability he displayed attracted Lady 
 Dorothea's notice, and she engaged him to decorate a small garden 
 villa with copies from her own designs. He was entirely successful, 
 and so much pleased was her Ladyship, that she withdrew him from 
 his ignoble servitude and attached him to her o^vn household, where 
 now he had been living two years, tlic latter half of which period had 
 been passed in the great work of which we have already made some 
 mention. It so chanced, that poor Simmy had never sold but two 
 copies in his life : one was the Abdication of Charles V., the other, 
 the Finding of Moses ; and so, out of gratitude to these successes, he
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN". 49 
 
 went on multiplying new versions of these subjects ad infinitum, 
 eternally writing fresb. variations on the old themes, till the King 
 and the Lawgiver filled every avenue of his poor brain, and he ceased 
 to have a belief that any other story than these could be the subject 
 of high art. 
 
 Happy as he now was, he never ceased to feel that his position ex- 
 posed him to many an ungenerous suspicion. " They'll say I'm hum- 
 bugging this old lady," was the constant self-reproach he kept repeat- 
 ing. " I know well what they'll think of me — I think I hear the 
 sneering I'emarks as I pass." And so powerfully had this impression 
 caught hold of him, that he vowed, come what would of it, he'd set out 
 on his travels again, and face the cold stern world, rather than live on 
 what seemed to be the life of a flatterer and a sycophant. He could 
 not, however, endure the thought of leaving his "Abdication" im- 
 iinished, and he now only remained to complete this great work. 
 "Then I'm off," said he ; " and then they'll see if poor Simmy Crow 
 was the fellow they took him for." Better thoughts on this theme 
 were now passing through his mind, from which at last he aroused 
 himself to proceed with his picture. Once at work, his spirits rose ; 
 hopes flitted across his brain, and he was happy. His own creations 
 seemed to smile benignly on liim, too, and ho felt towards them like a 
 friend, and even talked with them, and confided his secret thoughts . 
 to them. 
 
 In this pleasant mood we shall leave him then, nor shall we linger 
 to listen to the avowals he is making of his upright intentions, nor his 
 willingness to bear the hardest rubs of fortune, so that none can re- 
 proach him for a mean subserviency. 
 
 CHAPTER VL . 
 
 A DASH or POLITICS. 
 
 " Well, what is it, Molly— what is it all about ?" said Martin, as 
 Mary entered the Library, where he was sitting with an unread news- 
 paper stretched across his knee. 
 
 " It is a piece of news Scanlan has brought, L^ncle, and not of the 
 most agreeable kind, cither." 
 
 " Then I'll not hear more of it," broke he in, pettishly. 
 
 " But you must. Uncle, since without your own counsel and advice 
 nothing can be done." • •
 
 60 THE MARTirrs OF ceo' maetin. 
 
 "Do nothing, then," added he, sulkily. 
 
 " Come — come — I'll not let you off thus easily," said she, passing 
 an arm over liis shoulder. "You know well I'd not tease you if it 
 could he avoided, but here is a case where I can he no guide. It is a 
 question of the borough. Lord Kilm orris thinks himself strong 
 enout^h to stand on his own merits, and repudiates your aid and his 
 OAvn principles together." Martin's attention beiug now secured, she 
 went on : " He says— at least as well as I can follow his meaning — 
 that with this new measure must come a total change of policy — abro- 
 gating all old traditions and old notions. That you, of course, are 
 little likely to adopt this opinion, at least at once, and so he releases 
 you from all obligation to support him, and himself from all tie to 
 represent _yoM." 
 
 "This is Lady Dorothy's doing," broke in Martin, passionately ; 
 " her confoimded letter- writing has brought this upon ns. I told her 
 that those fellows were trimming ; I warned her that they were only 
 waiting for this Bill to pass, to turn round upon us as a barbarous old 
 remnant of feudal oppression ; but he daren't do it, Molly — Kil- 
 morris hasn't a leg to stand upon in the borough. He couldn't 
 count upon twenty — no, not ten votes, without me. It's a scurvy 
 trick, too, and it shan't succeed, if I stand for the borough myself." 
 And he blurted out the last words as though they were the expression 
 of an enmity driven to its last resources. 
 
 "No, no, Uncle," said she, caressingly; "after all you have your- 
 self told me of a Parliamentary life, that must never be. Its unend- 
 ing intrigues and petty plotting — its fatiguing days and harassing 
 nights — its jealousies, and disappointments, and defeats, all hard 
 enough to be borne by those who must make a trade of their politics, 
 but utterly insupportable to one who, like you, can enjoy his inde- 
 pendence. Do not think of that, I beseech you." 
 
 " Then am I to see this man carry my own town in my very teeth ?" 
 cried he, angrily. " Is that your advice to me ?" 
 
 " You often spoke of Harry. Why not put him forward now he is 
 coming home?" 
 
 " Ay, and the very first thing he'll do will be to resign the seat be- 
 cause he had not been consulted about the matter before the Election. 
 You know him well, Molly ; and you know that he exchanged into a 
 regunent in India simply because I had obtained his appointment to 
 the Blues. His amiable mother's disposition is strong in him!" mut- 
 tered lie, half to himself, but loud enough to be heard by his Niece. 
 
 "At all events, see Scanlan," said she; "learn how the matter 
 really stands ; don't rely on my version of it, but see what Lord Eil-
 
 THE MAETINS OF CBO' MAETIK, ISA 
 
 moms intends, and take your own measures calmly and dispas- 
 sionately afterwards." 
 
 " Is Scanlan engaged for Mm ?" 
 
 "I ttink not. I suspect tliat negotiations are merely in progress." 
 
 "But if he even was," broke in Martin, violently, "I have made 
 the fellow what he is, and he should do as I ordered him. Let him 
 come in, Molly." 
 
 "He is not ui the house, Uncle; he went down to the village." 
 
 " Not here ? Why didn't he wait r What impertinence is this ?" 
 
 " He wished to bait his horses, and probably to get some breakfast 
 for himself, which I had not the politeness to offer him here." 
 
 " His horses ? His tandem, I'll be sworn," said Martin, with a sneer. 
 " I'll ask for no better evidence of what we are coming to, than that 
 Maurice Scanlan drives about the county with a tandem." 
 
 "And handles them very neatly, too," said Mary, with a malicious 
 sparkle of her eye, for she couldn't refrain from the spiteful pleasure 
 of seeing her Uncle in a regular fury for a mere nothiug. All the 
 more salutary, as it withdrew his thouglits from weightier themes. 
 
 "I'm sure of it, Miss Martin. I'm certain that he is a most 
 accomplished whip, and as such perfectly sure to find favoiu' in ^/our 
 eyes. Let him come up here at once, however. Say I want him 
 immediately," added he, sternly ; and Mary despatched a servant 
 with the message, and sat down in front of her Uncle, neither utter- 
 ing a word, nor even looking towards the other. ..j '^_'_ , ■ , r -■: ■ -. 
 
 " After all, Molly," said he, in the qvuet, indolent tone so natural 
 to him — " after all, what does it signify who's in or who's out ? I 
 don't care a brass farthing about party or party triumphs, and even 
 
 if I did, I'm not prepared ^What are you laughing at — what is it 
 
 amuses you now?" asked he, half testily, while she laughed out in 
 aU the imrestrained flow of joyous mirth. 
 
 " I have been waiting for that confession this half hour. Uncle, and 
 really I was beginniug to be afraid of a disappointment. Why, 
 dearest Uncle, you were withui a hair's breadth of forgettiug your 
 principles, and being actually caught, for once in your life, prepared 
 and ready." / ,' . ; r- '■,..• u.. I < ; . ; : .'1-^ 
 
 " Oh, is that it ? Is it my embarrassment, then, that affords you 
 so much amusement ?" 
 
 "Far from it," said she, aflfectionately. "I was only laugliiug at 
 that quiet little nook you retire to whenever you ought to be up and 
 doing. Unprepared you say. Not a bit of it. Indisposed, indolent, 
 unwillmg, indifferent, any of these you like ; but with a mind so full 
 of its own good resources, and as ready to meet every contingency as 
 
 E 2
 
 52 THE MAKTIIfS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 any one's, don't say you arc \;nprcparecl. Come, now, bear with me 
 this once, dearest Uncle, and don't be angry if I throw myself, like a 
 rock or sandbank, betwixt you and your harbour of refuge. But I 
 hear Mr. Scanlan's voice, and so I shall leave you. Be resolute, 
 Uncle, determined, and — 'prepared!'" And with a gesture half 
 menace and half drollery, she left the room as the Attorney entered it. 
 
 Scanlan, like most of those who came but casually in contact with 
 Martin, had conceived a low idea of liis capacity — lower by far than 
 it deserved, since behind his indolence there lay a fund of good 
 common sense — a mine, it must be acknowledged, that he seldom 
 cared to work. The crafty Man of Law had, however, only seen him 
 in his ordinary moods of careless ease and idleness, and believed that 
 pride of family, fortune, and position were the only ideas that found 
 access to his mind, and that by a dexterous allusion to these topics 
 it would always be an easy task to influence and direct him. 
 
 "What's this my Niece has been telling me of Lord Kilmorris ?" 
 said Martin, abruptly, and without even replying to the salutations 
 of the other, who hovered around a chair in an uncertainty as to 
 whether he might dare to seat himself uninvited — " he's going to 
 contest the borough with us, isn't he ?" 
 
 Scanlan leaned one arm on the back of the chair, and in a half 
 careless way replied : 
 
 " He is afraid that you and he don't quite agree, Sir. He leans to 
 measures that he suspects you may not altogether approve of." 
 
 " Come, come, none of this balderdash with me. Master Maurice. 
 Has he bought the fellows alx'eady, or, rather, have you bought them ? 
 Out with it, man. "What will he give ? Name the sum, and let us 
 treat the matter in a business-like way." 
 
 Scanlan sat down and laughed heartily for some minutes. 
 
 "I think you know me well enough, Mr. Martin, by this time," 
 said he, " to say whether I'm a likely man to meddle with such a 
 transaction." 
 
 "The very likeliest in Ireland; the man I'd select amidst ten 
 thousand." 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear you say so, Sir, that's all," said the other, with 
 a half offended air ; " nor do I see that anything in my past life 
 warrants the imputation." 
 
 Martin turned fiercely round, about to make a reply which, if once 
 uttered, would have ended all colloquy between them, when suddenly 
 catching liimself he said, " Have you taken any engagement with his 
 Lordship ?" 
 
 " Not as yet, Sir — not formally, at least. My Lord has written me 
 a very full statement of his ideas on politics, what he means to do,
 
 THE MAETINS 01' CEO' MAETI^", 53 
 
 and so forth, and lie seems to think that anything short of a very 
 liberal line vronld not give satisfaction to the electors." 
 
 " Who told him so ? Who said that the borough was not perfectly 
 content with the representative, that — that" — he stammered and 
 faltered — " that its best friends had fixed upon, to defend its inte- 
 rests ? WTio said that a member of my own family might not desire 
 the seat ?" 
 
 This announcement, uttered with a tone very much akin to menace, 
 failed to produce either the astonishment or terror that Martin 
 looked for, and actually supposing that the expression had not been 
 heard, he repeated it — " I say, Sir, has any one declared that a 
 Martin will not stand ?" 
 
 " I am not aware of it," said Scanlan, quietly. 
 "Well, Sir," cried Martin, as if unable to delineate the consequences, 
 and wished to throw the weight of the duty on his opponent. 
 
 " There would be a warm contest no doubt. Sir," said Scanlan, 
 guardedly. 
 
 " No, Sir; nor the shadow of a contest," rejoined Mai'tin, angrily. 
 " You'll not tell me that my own town — the property that has been 
 in my family for seven centuries and more, would presume — that is, 
 would desire — to — to — ^break the ties that have bound us to each 
 other?" 
 
 " I wish I could tell you my mind, Mr. Martin, without offending 
 you; that is, I wish you'd let me just say what my own opinion is, 
 and take it for what it is worth,. and in five minutes you'd be in a 
 better position to make up your mind about this matter than if we 
 Aveut on discussing it for a week." There was a dash of independence 
 in his utterance of these words that actually startled Martin ; for, 
 somehow, Scanlan had himself been surprised into earnestness by 
 meeting with an energy on the other's part that he had never sus- 
 pected ; and thus each appeared in a new light to the other. 
 
 " May I speak out ? Well, then, here is what I have to say : the 
 
 Eelief Bill is passed, the Catholics are now emancipated " 
 
 " Tes, and be " Martin caught himself with a cough, and the 
 
 other went on : 
 
 *' Well, then, if they don't send one 6f their own set into Parlia- 
 ment at once it is because they'd like to affect, for a little while at 
 least, a kind of confidence in the men who gave tliem their liberties 
 O'Conncll himself gave a pledge, that of two candidates, equal in all 
 other respects, they'd select the Protestant ; and so they would for a 
 time. And it lies with you, and other men of your station, to deter- 
 mine how long that interval is to last ; for an interval it will only be, 
 after all. If you want to pursue the old system of ' kecpiug down,'
 
 54 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 you'll drive them at once into tbe hands of the extreme Papist party ; 
 who, thanks to yourselves, can now sit in Parliament ; but if you'll 
 moderate your views, take an liurabler standard of your own power — 
 conciliate a prejudice, here, obliterate an old animosity, there " 
 
 " In fact," broke in Martin, " swear by this new creed that Lord 
 Kilmorris has sent you a sketch of in his letter ! Then I'll tell you 
 what. Sir — I'd send the borough and all in it to the " 
 
 " So you mitrht, Mr. Martin, and you'd never mend matters in the 
 least," broke he in, with great coolness. 
 
 There was now a dead silence for several minutes ; at last Martin 
 spoke, and it was in a tone and with a manner that indicated deep 
 reflection : 
 
 " I often said to those who would emancipate the Catholics, ' Are 
 you prepared to change places with them ? You have been in the 
 ascendant a good many years, are you anxious now to try what the 
 other side of the medal looks like ? for, if not, leave them as they are.' 
 "Well, they didn't believe me ; and maybe now my prophecy is nigh 
 its accomplishment." 
 
 " It is very likely you were right. Sir ; but whether or not, it's the 
 Law now, and let us make the best of it," said Scanlan, who had a 
 practical man's aversion to all that savoiired of mere speculative 
 reasoning. 
 
 " As how, for instance — in what way, Mr. Scanlan ?" asked Martin, 
 curtly. 
 
 " If you'll not support Lord Kilmorris " 
 
 " That I won't, I promise you ; put that clean out of your head to 
 begin with." 
 
 *' Well, then, there is but one other course open. Come to some 
 compromise with the Eomanist party ; if you don't like to give them 
 a stray vote— and mark me, they'd make better terms with you than 
 with a stranger— but if you don't like that, why take the representa- 
 tion alternately with them." 
 
 Martin rose from his chair and advanced close to where Scanlan 
 was sitting, then, fixing his eyes steadfastly on him, -said: 
 
 " AVho commissioned you to make this proposition to me?'^ 
 
 " No one, upon my oath. "There is not a man breathing who has 
 ever as much as hinted at what I have just said to you." 
 
 "I'm glad of it; I'm heartily glad of it," said Martin, calmly re- 
 seating himself " I'm glad there is not another fellow in this county 
 yoiu- equal in impudence ! Aye, Mr. Scanlan, you heard me qiiite 
 correctly. I saw many a change going on amongst us, and I foresaw 
 many more ; but that a Martin of Cro' Martin should be taught his
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 55 
 
 political duty by Maurice Scanlan, and that that duty consisted in a 
 beggarly alliance with the rilf-rafF of a county town ; that was, indeed, 
 a surprise for which I was in nowise prepared," 
 
 " Well, Sir, I'm sorry if I have giyen any offence," said Scanlan, 
 rising, and, iii a voice of the most quiet intonation, making his ex- 
 cuses : " Your rejection of the coiuisel I was bold enough to suggest 
 leaves me, at least, at liberty to offer my services where they will not 
 be rejected so contimieliously." 
 
 " Is this a threat, Mr. Scanlan ?" said Martin, with a supercilious 
 smile. 
 
 " No, Sir ; nothing of the kind. I know too well what becomes 
 my station, and is due to yours, to forget myself so far; but as you 
 don't set any value on the borough yourself, and as there may be 
 others who do ' ' 
 
 " Stay and eat yoiu* dinner here, Scanlan," said Martin, 
 
 " I promised Mrs. Cronan, Sir " 
 
 " Send an apology to her ; say it was my fault — that I detained 
 you." And without waiting for a reply, Martin sauntered from the 
 room, leaving the Attorney alone with his reflections. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. ; - .-. 
 
 A COLLEGE COMPETITOR. ' - ; 
 
 Young Nelliqan had distanced all his competitors in his College 
 career ; 3ome who were his equals in ability, were inferior to liim in 
 habits of hard and patient labour; and others, again, were faint- 
 hearted to oppose one in whose success tliey affected to believe luck 
 had no small sliare. One alone had the honest candour to avow that 
 he deserved his pre-eminence, on the true ground of his being their 
 superior. This was a certain Jack Massingbred, a young fellow of 
 good family and fortune, and who, having been rusticated at Oxford, 
 and involved in some outrage against authority in Cambridge, had 
 come over to finish his College career in the " Silent Sister." 
 
 Althougli Irish by birth, and connected with Ireland by ties of 
 family and fortune, he had passed all liis life in England, his father 
 having repaired to that country after the Union, exchanging the 
 barren honour of a seat for an Irish borough for a snug Treasury,
 
 66 THE AIAIITINS OF CBO' MAETIK. 
 
 appointment. His son had very early given proof of superior capa- 
 city. At liugby he was distinguished as a scliolar ; and in his open- 
 ing life at Oxford his talents won high praise for liim. Soon after 
 his entrance, however, he had fallen into a fast set — of hunting, 
 tandcm-drivmg, and occasionally hard-drinking men— in whose society 
 he learnt to forget all his aim for College success, and to be far more 
 anxious for distinction as a whip, or a stroke-oar, than for all the 
 honours of scholarship. At first he experienced a sense of pride in 
 the thought that he could hold his own with either set, and take the 
 lead in the Examination-liall as easily as he assumed the first place 
 in the social meeting. A few reverses, however, tauglit him that his 
 theory was a mistake, that no amount of ability will compensate for 
 habits of idleness and dissipation, and that the discursive efforts of 
 even high genius will be ever beaten by the steady results of patient 
 industry. Partly indifferent to what had once been his great ambi- 
 tion — partly offended by his failures, Massingbred threw himself en- 
 tirely into the circle of his dissipated companions, and became the 
 very head and front of all their wildest excesses. An absurd exploit, 
 far more ludicrous than really culpable, procured his rustication ; a 
 not less ridiculoils adventure drove him from Cambridge ; and he had 
 at last arrived in Dublin, somewhat tamed down by his experiences, 
 and half inclined to resume his long-abandoned desire for College 
 distinction. 
 
 The habits of the Irish College were strikingly unlike those of 
 either Oxford or Cambridge. Instead of a large class, consisting of 
 men of great fortune and high expectations, he found a very slight 
 sprinkling of such, and even they made up nothing that resembled a 
 party ; separated by age, political distinctions, and county associa- 
 tions, all stronger in the poorer county than in the richer one ; they 
 held little intercourse together, and were scarcely acquainted. 
 
 If there was less actual wealth, there was also less credit to be 
 obtained by an Irish student. The Dublin shopkeeper acknowledged 
 no prestige in the " gownsman ;" he admitted him to no special privi- 
 lege of book-debts, and as the great majority of the students resided 
 with tlicir families in the capital, there was no room for that reck- 
 less extravagance so often prosecuted by those who are temporarily 
 removed from domestic supervision. 
 
 Massingbred was at first grievously disappointed. There were 
 neither great names nor great fortunes amongst his new associates. 
 Their mode of life, too, struck him as mean and contemptible. There 
 were clever men reading for honours, and stupid men steering their 
 slow way to a degree, but where were the fast ones ? where the
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN". 57 
 
 fellows wlio could tool a team or steer a six-oar ? wlio could dasli up 
 to town for a week's reckless life at Crocky's and Tattersall's, make 
 their book on tke Oaks, or perhaps ride the winner at a steeple 
 chase ? 
 
 It was all grievously slow. Dublin itself was a poor affair. He 
 had few acquaintances, the theatres were bad, and public amusements 
 there were none. His fellow-students, too, stood aloof from him. It 
 was not that he was richer, better dressed, rode blood horses, dined 
 at Morrisson's, wore kid gloves, and carried scented pocket-handker- 
 chiefs. It was not that he had a certain air of puppyism as he 
 wended his way across the courts, or sauntered elegantly into 
 chapel. They could have forgiven any or all of these better than one 
 of his offendings, which was his accent. Strange as it may seem, his 
 English voice and English pronunciation were the most unpopular 
 things about him, and many a real defect in his character might have 
 met a more merciful construction had he given no initial " H" to 
 "humble," and evinced a more generous confusion about his " wills" 
 and " shalls." 
 
 Somewhat bored by a life so unlike anything he had ever tried 
 before, partly, perhaps, stimulated to sliow that he could do something 
 beside canter his thorough-bred along Sackville-street, or lounge in the 
 stage-box in solitary splendour — he went in for honoiu'S, and, to the 
 surprise of all, succeeded. In fact, he beat two or three of the dis- 
 tinguished men of his time, till thrown by the chance of events into 
 Nelligan's division, he found at once his superior, and saw tliat he 
 was in presence of an intelligence considerably above his own. When 
 he had adventiuced on the struggle and found himself worsted, he 
 acknowledged defeat with all the generosity of an honourable nature, 
 and forcing his way through the crowd as it issued from tlie Examina- 
 tion-hall, was tlie very first to grasp Nelligau's hand and congratulate 
 him on his success. 
 
 " That was all got up — he was bursting with jealousy. The fellow 
 could have strangled Nelligan," muttered one. 
 
 " He certainly put a good face on the disaster," said another, more 
 mercifully given ; " though I suppose he feels the thing sorely enough 
 at heart!" 
 
 That was exactly what he did not, however. Young Massiugbred 
 regarded a College distinction as no evidence whatever of a man's at- 
 tainments. He had seen stupid fellows win the prize for which clever 
 ones strove in vain ; but, at all events, he regarded such successes as 
 contributing in nothing to the great race of life, and had even a tlieory 
 that such early efibrts were often the very means of exhausting the
 
 58 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 energies that slioiild be exerted for tbe high rewards of the world. 
 Besides this, he felt a pleasure in manfully showing that he was above 
 a potty jealousy, and fairly owning himself beaten in a fair struggle. 
 
 "You are the better man, Nelligan," said he, gaily; "I'll not try 
 another fall Avith you, be assured." 
 
 Strange was it that in this very avowal he had asserted what the 
 other felt, in his inmost heart, to be an immeasurable superiority 
 over him ; and that, in the very moment of striking his flag, he had 
 proclaimed his victory. To be able to run him so hard for the race 
 and yet not feel the struggle — to strive for the prize and care notliing 
 for defeat, seemed to Nelligan the evidence of an ambition that soared 
 above College triumph, and he could not but envy that buoyant high- 
 hearted temperament that seemed to make light of difficulties and not 
 even feel depressed by a defeat. 
 
 Up to this time these two young men had scarcely known each 
 other, but now they became intimate. The very difference in character 
 served to draw them more closely together ; an.d if Nelligan felt a 
 degree of admiration for qualities whose brilliant display opened a new, 
 sense of enjoyment to him, the other was delighted with the gentle 
 and almost childlike innocence of the Student whose far-soaring in- 
 tellect was mastering the highest questions of science. 
 
 Massinscbred was one of those natures in whom frankness is an in- 
 stinct. It seems to such a relief to open the secrets of the heart and 
 avow their weaknesses and their short-comings, as though — by some 
 Moral Popery — they would obtain the benefit of a free confession 
 and go forth the better for their candour. 
 
 Not only did he tell Nelligan of his own career and its accidents, 
 the causes for which he was not on good terms with his family, and 
 so on, but he even ventured to discuss the public life of his father, and, 
 in a spirit of banter, swore, that to his political subserviency did ke 
 owe his whole fortune in life. 
 
 " My father was one of the crew when the vessel was wrecked, 
 Nelligan," said he ; " there was plenty of talk of standing by the ship 
 to the last and perishing with her. Some did so, and they are for- 
 gotten already. My father, however, jumped into the long-boat with 
 a few more, and thought that probably they might find another craft 
 more seaworthy; fortunately he was right, at least assuredly I'm not 
 the man to say he was not." 
 
 " But was there no desertion of principle, Massingbi*ed ?" said 
 Nelligan. 
 
 " No more than there is a desertion of your old coat when you dis- 
 cover it to be too threadbare to wear any longer. Irish Politics — as
 
 THE MASTINB OF CEO' MAETOT. 59 
 
 the men of that day understood them — had become impracticable, im- 
 possible, I might say ; the only sensible thing to do was to acknow- 
 ledge the fact. My father was keen-sighted enough to see it in that 
 light, and here's his health for it." 
 
 JS'elligan was silent. 
 
 " Come, Joe, out with it. Your family were honest Unionists. Tell 
 me so frankly, man. Own to me that you and yours look upon us all 
 as a set of knaves and scoundrels, that sold their country, and so forth. 
 I want to see you in a mood of good passionate indignation for once. 
 Out with it, boy ; curse us to your heart's content, and I'll hear it like 
 an angel, for the simple reason that I know it to be just. You won't, 
 won't you ? Is your anger too deep for words ? or are there any 
 special and peculiar wrongs that make yovir dark consuming wrath 
 too hot for utterance ?" 
 
 Nelligan was still silent ; but the blush which now covered his face 
 had become almost purple. The allusion to his family as persons of 
 political importance struck him, and for the first time, with a sense of 
 shame. What would Massiugbred think of them if he knew their real 
 station ? what would he think of 1dm for having concealed it ? Had 
 he concealed it ? had he ever divulged the truth ? He knew not ; in 
 the whirlwind of his confusion he knew nothing. He tried to say some 
 words to break the oppressive silence that seemed to weigh him down 
 like an accusation, but he could not. 
 
 " I sec it all, jSTelligan. My foolish affectation of laughing at all 
 principle has disgusted you, but the truth is I don't feel it : I do not. 
 I own frankly that the bought patriot is a ruined man, and there is a 
 moral Nemesis over every fellow that sells himself; I don't mean to 
 say but that many who did so didn't make the best bargain their 
 brains were worth, and my father, for one ; he Avas a man of fair 
 average abilities — able to say his common-places like his neighbours — 
 and naturally felt that they would sound as well in England as in 
 Ireland ; I don't thiuk he had a single conviction on any subject, so 
 that he really sold a very unsaleable article when he vended himself. 
 But there were others — your Governor, for instance — come, now, tell 
 me about him ; you are so devilish close, and I want to hear all about 
 your family. You won't ; well, I'll give you one chance more, and 
 
 then " 
 
 • -"What then ?" asked Xelhgan, breathlessly. , ' ' ' ■; : •' •• . : .i 
 
 "I'lljust go and learn for myself." .; .' '■ '.A - > 
 
 " How ? what do you mean ?" 
 
 " The easiest way in the world. The vacation begins next Tues- 
 day, and I'll just invite myself to spend the first week of it under
 
 60 THE mahtins of ceo' maetin. 
 
 your paternal roof. Tou look terribly shocked, absolutely horrified ; 
 well, so you ought. It is about the greatest piece of impertinence 
 I've' heard of. I assure you I have a full consciousness of that 
 nivsclf ; but no matter, I'll do it." 
 
 Vclli^an's sliamc was now an agony. It had never occurred to 
 him in his life to feel ashamed of his station or that of his family, for 
 the simple reason, that he had never made pretension to anything 
 liigher or more exalted. The distinctions at which he aimed were 
 those attainable by ability ; social successes were triumphs he never 
 dreamed of; but now came the thought of how he should stand in his 
 friend's esteem when the fact was revealed that he was the son of 
 very humble parents, all whose ways, tlioughts, and habits, would be 
 apt themes for ridicule and sarcasm. Over and over again had Mas- 
 siugbrcd annoyed him by the disparaging tone in which he canvassed 
 " small people," the sneering depreciation in which he held all their 
 doings, and the wholesale injustice by which he classed their senti- 
 ments with their good manners. It was the one feature of his friend's 
 character that gave a check to his unbounded esteem for him. Had 
 he not possessed this blemish, Welligan would have deemed him 
 nearly faultless. 
 
 Intensely feeling this, Nelligan would have given much for courage 
 to say : " I am one of that very set you sneer at. AU my associations 
 and ties are with them. My home is amongst them, and every link 
 of kindred binds me to them." 
 
 Yet, somehow, he could not bring himself to the eftbrt. It was not 
 that he dreaded the loss of friendship that might ensue ; indeed, he 
 rather believed that such would not occur ; but he thought that a time 
 might come when that avowal might be made with pride, and not in 
 humiliation, when he should say : " My father, the little shopkeeper 
 of Oughtcrard, gave me the advantages by which I became what I 
 am. The class you sneer at had yet ambitions high and daring as your 
 own ; and talents to attain them, too ! The age of noble and serf 
 has passed away, and we live in a freer and more generous era, when 
 men are tested by their own worth ; and if birth and blood would 
 retain their respect amongst us, it is by contesting with us more 
 humbly-born, the prizes of life." To have asserted these things now, 
 however, when he was nothing, when his name had no echo beyond 
 the walls of a College, would have seemed to him an intolerable piece 
 of presumption, and he was silent. 
 
 Massingbred read his reserve as proceeding from displeasure, and 
 jestingly said : 
 
 " You mustn't be angry with me, Joe. The boldness of men like
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. Gl 
 
 me is less impudence than you take it for, since — should I fulfil my 
 threat, and pay your father a visit — I'd neither show surprise nor 
 shame if he refused to receive me. I throw over all tlie claims of 
 ceremony, but at the same time I don't want to impose the trammels 
 on my friends. They are free to deal with me as frankly — ay, and as 
 curtly, as I have treated them ; but enough of all this. Let us talk 
 of something else." 
 
 And so they did, too ; of tlieir College life and its changeful fortunes 
 — of their companions and their several characters, and of the future 
 itself, of which Massingbred pretended to read the fate, saying : " You'll 
 be something wonderful one of these days, Joe. I have it as though 
 revealed to me — you astonishing the world by your abilities, and 
 winning your upward way to rank and eminence ; while I, like a 
 sign-post that points to the direction, shall stand stock-still, and 
 never budge an inch, knowing the road, but not travelhug it." 
 
 " And why should it be so. Mass, when you have such a perfect con- 
 sciousness of your powers for success ?" 
 
 " Por the simple reason, my boy, that I know and feel how the 
 cleverness which imposes upon others has never imposed upon myself. 
 The popular error of a man's being able to do fifty things which he has 
 not done from idleness, apathy, carelessness, and so on, never yet 
 deceived one, because I know well that when a fellow has great stuff" 
 in him it will come out, whether he likes or not. Tou might as well 
 say, that the grapes in a wine-vat could arrest their own process of 
 fermentation, as that a man of real genius — and mind, I am now 
 speaking of no other — could suppress the working of his intelligence, 
 and throw his faculties into torpor. The men who do nothing are 
 exactly the men who can do no better. Volition, energy, the strong 
 impulse for action, are part and parcel of every really great intellect ; 
 and your ' mute inglorious Milton,' only reminds me of tlie Artist who 
 painted his canvas all red to represent the passage of the Egyptians 
 through tlie Ecd Sea. Believe me, you must take all untried genius 
 in the same scale of credit as that by wliicli you have fiincied the 
 chariots and horsemen submerged in the flood. They are there, if 
 you like, and if you don't " 
 
 " Tour theory requires that all men's advantages should be equal, 
 their station alike, and their obstacles the same. jS'ow, tlicy are not 
 so. See, for instance, in our University here. I am debarred from 
 the fellowship-bench — or at least from attempting to reach it — be- 
 cause I am a Papist." : • ■ ■ 
 
 " Then turn Protestant ; or if that doesn't suit you, address your- 
 self to kick down the barrier that stands in your way. By-the-by, I
 
 g2 THE MAETINS OP CHO' MAHTIN. 
 
 didii't know you were a Komau; how comes that? Is it a family 
 creed, or was it a caprice of your own ?" 
 
 '' It is the religion my family have always professed," said Nelligan, 
 
 gravely. 
 
 - " 1 "have no right to speak of these subjects, because I have never 
 felt strongly enough on them to establish strong convictions ; but 
 it appears to me, that if I were you — that is, if I had your head 
 on my shoulders, I should think twice ere I'd sacrifice my whole 
 future out of respect for certain dogmas that no more interfere with 
 one's daily life and opinions than some obsolete usage of ancient 
 Greece has a bearing upon a modern suit in Chancery. There, don't 
 look fretfid and impatient ; I don't want to provoke you, nor is it worth 
 your while to bring your siege artillery against my card-house. I 
 appreciate everything you could possibly adduce by anticipation, and 
 I yield myself as vanquished." 
 
 Thus, half in earnest, half jestingly, Massingbred talked away, little 
 thinking how deeply many a random speech entered into his friend's 
 heart, taking firm root there to grow and vegetate hereafter. As for 
 himself, it would have been somewhat difficult to say how far his con- 
 victions ever went with his words. Any attempt to guide and direct 
 him was, at any time, enough to excite a wilful endeavour to oppose 
 it, and whatever savoured of opposition immediately evoked his resist- 
 ance. The spirit of rebellion was the key-note of his character ; he 
 could be made anything, everything, or nothing; aa authority, or, 
 as he would have styled it, tyranny, decided. 
 
 It was just at this very moment that an incident occurred to dis- 
 play this habit of his mind in its full force. His father, by emplojong 
 much private influence and the aid of powerful friends, had succeeded 
 in obtaining for him the promise of a most lucrative civil appointment 
 in India. It was one of those situations which in a few years of 
 very moderate labour, secure an ample fortune for the possessor. 
 Mr. Massingbred had forgotten but one thing in all the arrangement 
 of this att'air, which was to apprise his son of it beforehand, and make 
 him, as it were, a part of the plot. That one omission, however, was 
 enough to secure its failure. ' — -• ■ " • • 
 
 Jack received the first tidings of the scheme when it was a fact — 
 not a speculation. It was a thing done, not, to do, and consequently 
 a " gi'oss piece of domestic cruelty to dispose of liim and his future 
 by an arbitrary banishment to a distant land, linking him with dis- 
 tasteful duties, uncongenial associates," and the rest of it. In a 
 word, it was a case for resistance, and he did resist, and in no very 
 measured fashion either. He wrote back a pettish and ill-tempered
 
 THE MAETINS OE CBO' MAETIN. 63 
 
 refusal of the place, sneered at tlie clas3 by whom, such appointments 
 were regarded as prizes, and coolly said, that " it was quite time enough 
 to attach himself to the serious business of Kfe when, he had tasted 
 something of the pleasures that suited his time of life ; besides," 
 added he, " I must see which way my ambitions point, perhaps to a 
 seat on the Treasury benches, perhaps to a bullock -team, a wood-axe, 
 and a rifle in a new settlement. Of my resolves on either liead, or 
 on anything between them, you shall have the earliest possible intima- 
 tion from your devoted, but perhaps not very obedient, to command, 
 
 " J. M." 
 
 His father rejoined angrily and peremptorily. The place had cost 
 him everything he could employ or enlist of friendly patronage ; he 
 made the request assume all the weight of a deep personal obligation, 
 and now the solicitation and the success were all to go for nothing. 
 What if he should leave so very gifted a young gentleman to the 
 unfettered use of his great abilities ? What if lie abstained from any 
 interference with one so competent to gviide himself? He threw out 
 these suggestions too palpably to occasion any misconception, and 
 Jack read them aright. " I'm quite ready for sea whenever you are 
 pleased to cut the painter," said he ; and the correspondence con- 
 cluded with a dry intimation that two hundred a year, less than 
 one-half of his former allowance, should be paid into Coutts's for his 
 benefit, but that no expenditure above that sum would be repaid by 
 his father. ,• -, ■, : ' ; / " . -. - ' 
 
 " I'll emigrate — I'll agitate — I'll turn author, and write for the 
 reviews — I'll correspond with the newspapers — I'll travel in Africa — 
 I'LL go to sea — ^be a pirate" — in fact, there was nothing for which 
 he thought his capacity unequal, nor anything against which his 
 principles would revolt. In specidation only, however, for, in sober 
 reality, he settled down into a mere idler — discontented, dreamy, and 
 unhappy. 
 
 Little momentary bursts of energy would drive him now and then 
 to liis books, and for a week or two he would work really hai-d, when 
 a change as sudden would come over hiin, and he would relapse into 
 his former apathy. Thus was it that he lived for some time after the 
 term had come to an end, and scarcely a single student lingered 
 Avithin the silent courts. Perhaps the very solitude was tlic great 
 charm of the place ; there was that in his lonely, luifricjided, uncom- 
 panionable existence that seemed to feed the brooding melancholy in 
 which he indulged with all the ardour of a vice. He liked to think 
 himself an outcast and forgotten. It was a species of flattery that 
 he addressed to his own heart when he aflected to need neither syni-
 
 G-l THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN". 
 
 patliy nor aflcction. Still liis was not the stuft' of whicli misanthropy 
 is lasliioucd, and he felt acutely the silence of his friend IS'elligan, 
 who had never once written to him since they parted. 
 
 "I'd scarcely have left liim here," said he to himself one day; 
 " had he been in my position, I'd hardly have quitted liim under such 
 circumstances. He knew all about my quarrel with my father. He 
 had read our letters on each side. To be sure he had condemned me, 
 and taken the side against me, still, when there was a breach, and that 
 breach ofiered no prospect of reconciliation, it was but scant friendship 
 to say good-by, and desert me. He might, at least, have asked me 
 down to his house. I'd not have gone — that's certain. I feel myself 
 very poor company for myself, and I'd not inflict my stupidity upon 
 others. Still, he might have thought it kind or generous. In fact, 
 in such a case I would have taken no refusal — J'd have insisted." 
 
 What a dangerous hypothesis it is when we assume to act for 
 another ; how magnanimously do we rise above all meaner motives, 
 and only think of what is generous and noble ; how completely w'o 
 discard every possible contingency that could sway us from the road 
 of duty, and neither look right nor left on our way to some high 
 object. Jack Massingbred arguing thus, ended by thinking himself 
 a very fine fellow, and his friend a very shabby one — two conclusions 
 that, strangely enough, did not put him into half as much good- 
 humour with the world as he expected. At all events, he felt very 
 sore with JN^elligan, and had he known where to address him, would 
 have written a very angry epistle of mock gratitude for all his solici- 
 tude in his behalf; very fortunately, however, he did not know in what 
 part of Ireland the other resided, nor did his acquaintance with pro- 
 vincial dialect enable him to connect his friend with a western 
 county. He had so confidently expected to hear from him, that he had 
 never asked a question as to his whereabouts. Thus was it with 
 Massingbred, as he sauntered along the silent alleys of the College 
 Park, in which, at rare intervals, some solitary sizer might be met 
 with — spare, sad-looking figures — in whose features might be read 
 the painful conflict of narrow fortune and high ambition. Book in 
 hand generally, they rarely exchanged a look as he passed them, and 
 Massingbred scanned at his ease these wasted and careworn sons of 
 labour, wondermg within himself was " theirs the right road to 
 fortune?" 
 
 Partly to shake off" the depression that was over him by change of 
 place, and in part to see something of the coimtry itself, Massingbred 
 resolved to make a walking tour through the south and west of 
 Ireland, and with a knapsack on his back, he started one fine autumn 
 morning for Wicklow.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN". (j5 
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 SOME KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLIGAN. 
 
 This true liistory contains no record of the evening Mr. Scanlan 
 passed at the Osprey's Nest ; nor is it probable that in any diary 
 kept by that intelligent individual there \vill yet be found materials 
 to supply this historical void. AVhether, therefore, high events and 
 their consequences were discussed, or that, the meeting was onl}' 
 devoted to themes of lighter importance, is likely to remain a secret 
 to all time. That matters beneath the range of politics occupied the 
 consideration of the parties was, however, evident from the following 
 few lines of a note received by young Nelligan the next morning : 
 
 " Dear Joe, — I dined yesterday at the ' Nest,' and we talked much 
 
 of you. "What would you think of paying a visit there this morning 
 
 to see the picture, or anything else you can think of ? I've a notion 
 
 it would be well taken. At all events, come over and speak to me 
 
 here. 
 
 " Ever yoiu-s, 
 
 <' M. SCAKLAN." 
 
 t 
 
 " I scarcely understand your note, Maurice," said young Nelligau, 
 as he entered the little room Avhere the other sat at breakfast. 
 
 " Have you breakfasted ?" said Scanlan. 
 
 " Yes, an hour ago." 
 
 " Will you taste that salmon ? AVell, then, just try Poll Hanigan's 
 attempt at a grouse-pie ; let me tell you, there is genius in the very 
 ambition ; she got the receipt from the cook at Cro' Martin, and the 
 imitation is highly creditable. You're wrong to decline it." And he 
 helped himself amply as he spoke. 
 
 " But this note ?" broke in the other, half impatiently. 
 
 " Oh — ay — the note ; I'm sure I forgot what I wrote ; what was 
 it about ? Yes, to be sure, I remember now. I want you to make 
 yourself known, up there. It is downright folly, if not worse, to be 
 keeping up these feuds and difterences in Ireland any longer ; sucli 
 a course miglit suit the small politicians of Oughterard, but you and 
 I know better, aud Martin himself knows better."
 
 66 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIX. 
 
 " But I never took any part in tlio conflict you speak of; I lived 
 out of it — avray from it." 
 
 " And are, therefore, exactly suited to repair a breacli to which you 
 never contributed. I assure you, my boy, the Gentry — and I know 
 them well — will meet you more than half-way. There is not a 
 prouder fellow living than Martin there ; he has throughout his 
 whole life held his head higher than any man in our county, and yet 
 he is quite ready to make advances towards you. Of course, what I 
 say is strictly between ourselves ; but my opinion is, that, if you like 
 it, you may be as intimate uj) there as ever you were at old Hayes's, 
 at the Priory." 
 
 " Then, Avhat would you have me do ?" asked ]N"elligan. 
 
 " Just pay a visit there this morning ; say that you are curious to 
 see that great picture — and it is a wonderful thing, if only for the 
 size of it ; or that you'd like to have a look at Arran Island out of 
 the big telescope at the top of the house ; anything will serve as a 
 reason, and then — why, leave the rest to chance." 
 
 " But really, Maiu-ice, I see no sufficient cause for all this," said 
 the youth, timidly. 
 
 " Look now, Joe," said the other, drawing his chair closer to him, 
 and talking in the low and measured tone of a confidence, — " look 
 now, you're not going to pass your life, as the successor to that 
 excellent man, Dan Nelligan, of Oughterard, selling hides, and ropes, 
 and tenpenny-nails, and making an estate the way old ladies make 
 a patchwork quilt. You'll be able to start in life with plenty of tin 
 and plenty of talent ; you'll have every advantage that money and 
 education can give, and only one drawback on your road to success — 
 the mere want of blood — that dash of birth which forms the only real 
 freemasonry in this world. Now mind me, Joe ; the next best thing 
 to having this oneself, is to live and associate with those who have, 
 for in time, what with catching up their prejudices and learning their 
 ways, you come to feel very much as they do ; and, what's better still, 
 they begin to regard you as one of themselves." 
 
 "But if I do not ambition this — if I even reject it?" said the 
 other, impatiently. 
 
 " Then all I say is that Ti-inity College may make wonderful 
 scholars, but turns out mighty weak men of the world !" 
 
 " Perhaps so !" said Xelligan, drily, and with a half-nettled air, 
 
 " I suppose you fancy there would be something like slavery in 
 such a position ?" said Scanlan, with a derisive look, 
 
 " I know it !" responded tlie other, firmly, 
 
 " Then wliat do you say to the alternative — and there is but one only
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIX. 67 
 
 open to 3^011 — what do you think of spending your life as a follower 
 of Daniel O'Connell; of being reminded every day and every hour 
 that you have not a privilege nor a place that he didn't win for you ; 
 that he opened Parliament to you, and made you free of every guild 
 where men of ability rise to honour ? Ay, Joe ! and what's a thousand 
 times worse — knowing it all to be true, my boy ! Take service with 
 him once, and if you leave him you're a renegade ; remember that, 
 and bethink you, that there's no saying what crotchet he may have in 
 store for future agitation." 
 
 " But I never purposed any such part for myself," broke in 
 Nelligan. 
 
 " Never mind, it will fall to your lot for all that if you don't quickly 
 decide against it. "What's Simmy Crow staring at ? Look at him 
 down there, he's counting every window in the street like a tax- 
 gatherer." And he pointed to the Artist, who, shading his eyes 
 with one hand, stood peering at every house along the little street. 
 " What's the matter, Simmj^ ?" cried he, opening the casement. 
 
 " It's a house I'm looking for, down here, and I forget which it is; 
 bother them, they're all so like at this time of the year when they're 
 empty." 
 
 " Are you in search of a lodging, Simmy ?" 
 
 " No, it isn't that!" said the other, curtly, and still intent on his 
 pursuit. " Bad luck to the architect that wouldn't vary what they 
 call the ' fa9ade,' and give one some chance of finding the place 
 again." 
 
 " Who is it you want, man ?" • 
 
 " Faix, and I don't even know that same !" replied the Artist ; 
 " but" — and he lowered his voice to a whisper as he spoke — " he's an 
 elegant study — as fine a head and face and as be'autiful a beard as 
 ever you saw. I met him at Kyle's Wood a week ago, begging; 
 and what with liis fine forehead and deep-set blue eyes, his long 
 white hair, and his great shaggy eyebrows, I said to myself : ' Beli- 
 sariug,' says I, ' by all that's grand — a Moses, a Marino Faliero, or a 
 Monk in a back-parlour discoursing to an old skull and a vellum 
 folio — any one of these,' says I, ' not to speak of Misers, Money- 
 lenders, or Magicians, as well ;' and so I coaxed him down here on 
 Saturday last, and put him somewhere to sleep, with a good supper 
 and a pint of spirits, and may I never, if I know where I left liim." 
 
 " Three days ago?" 
 
 " Just so ; and worse than all, I shut up the place quite darlv, and 
 only made a hole in the roof, just to let a fine liembrandt light fall 
 
 f2
 
 68 THE MAKTiyS OF CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 down on his head. Oh, tlien, it's no hiughing matter, Maurice! 
 
 Sure if anything happened to him " 
 
 "Tour life wouldn't be worth sixpence before any Jury in the 
 
 county." 
 
 " Begad! it's what I was thinking; if they wouldn't take it as a 
 practical joke." 
 
 " You're looking for ould Brennan !" cried a weather-beaten hag ; 
 " but he's gone to Oughterard for a summons. Tou'll pay dear for 
 your tricks tliis time, anyhow." 
 
 '■ Come np here, Simmy, and never mind her," said Scanlan ; then, 
 turnin"- to Xelligau, ho added, " There's not such a character in the 
 county !" 
 
 " I want my friend, Mr. jSTelligan, here — Mr. Kelligan — Mr. Crow 
 — I want him, I say, to come up and have a look at the great ' Histori- 
 cal' — eh, Simmy! — wouldn't it astonish him?" 
 
 " Are you a votary of Art, Sir," asked Crow, modestly. 
 
 "I've never seen what could be called a picture, except those 
 portraits in the College Examination Hall might be deemed such." 
 
 " Indeed, and they're not worthy the name. Sir. Flood, mayhap, is 
 like, but lie's hard and stift', and out of drawing; and Lord Clare is 
 worse. It's in the Low Countries you'd see portraits, real portraits ! 
 men that look down ou you out of the canvas, as if you were the 
 intruder, there, and that they were waiting to know what brought 
 you. A sturdy old Burgomaster, for instance, with a red-brown 
 beard and a fierce pair of eyes, standing up firm as a rock on a pair of 
 legs that made many a drawbridge tremble as he walked home to 
 dinner ou the Grand Canal, at Rotterdam, after finishing some 
 mighty bargain for half a spice island, or paying a million of guilders 
 down as a dowry for that flaxen-haired, buxom damsel in the next 
 frame. Look at the dimples in her neck, and mark the folds in 
 her satin. Isn't she comely, and calm, and haughty, and housewifery, 
 all together? Mind her foot, it isn't small, but see the shape of it, 
 and the way it presses the ground — ay, just so — my service to you ; 
 but you are one there's no joking with, even if one was alone with 
 you." And he doffed his hat, and bowed obsequiously^ as he spoke. 
 
 " You're an enthusiast for your art ?" said Nelligan, interested by 
 the unmistakable sincerity of his zeal. 
 
 " I am. Sir," was the brief reply. 
 
 " And the Painter's is certainly a glorious career." 
 
 " If for nothing else," burst in Crow, eagerly, " that it can make of 
 one like me — poor, ignorant, and feeble, as I am — a fellow-soldier in
 
 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MAHTIN. 69 
 
 the same army Tvitli Van Dyke, and Titian, and Velasquez — to know 
 that in something that they thought, or hoped, or dared, or tried to 
 do, I too have my share ! Tou think me presumptuous to say this ; 
 you are sneering at such a creature as Simmy Crow for the impudence 
 of such a boast, but it's in humiUty I say it, ay, in downright abject 
 hiunility; for I'd rather have swept out Rembrandt's room, and 
 settled his rough boards on Cuyp's easel, than I'd be a — a — battle- 
 axe guard, or a lord-in-waiting, or anything else you like, that's 
 great and grand at Court." 
 
 " I envy you a pursuit whose reward is in the practice rather than 
 in the promise," said Nelligan, thoughtfully. "Men, like myself, 
 labour that they may reach some far-away land of rewards and suc- 
 cesses, and bear the present that they may enjoy the future." 
 
 "Ay, but it will repay you well, by all accounts," said Crow. 
 " Miss Mary told us last night how you had beat every one out of the 
 field, and hadn't left a single prize behind you." 
 
 "Who said this?" cried Joe, eagerly. 
 
 " Miss Mary — Miss Martin. She said it was a credit to us all of 
 the "West, here, that there was one, at least, from Galway, who could 
 do something besides liorse-racing and cock-fighting " 
 
 " So she did," said Scanlan, interrupting, with some confusion. 
 " She said somebody had told her of young Nelligan. She called you 
 'Toung Nelligan.' " 
 
 " No, no ; it was to myself she said it, and the words were, ' Mr. 
 Joseph Nelligan ;' and tlien, when her Uncle said, ' "Why don't we 
 know him ? ' " 
 
 " My dear Simmy, you make a most horrible confusion when you 
 attempt a story — out of canvas. Mind, I said out of canvas ; for I 
 confess that in your grand ' Historical,' the whole incident is admi- 
 rably detailed. I've just said to my friend here, that he lias a great 
 pleasure before him, in seeing that picture." 
 
 "If you'll do me the honour to look at it," said Crow, bowing 
 courteously, " when you come to dinner to-day." 
 
 " Attend to me, Joe," said Scanlan, passing an arm within Nelli- 
 gan' s, and leading him away to another part of the room ; " that 
 fellow is little better than an idiot. But I was just going to tell you 
 what Martin said. ' You are intimate with young Nelligan,' said he ; 
 * you know him well, and you could possibly do, without awkward- 
 ness, what with more formality might be difficult. Don't you think, 
 then, that he would possibly waive ceremony ' " 
 
 "I must be off," broke in Crow, hastily. "I have a sitting at
 
 70 THE MAllTINS OF CEO' MAllTIN. 
 
 twelve o'clock, so I hope we shall see you at seven, Mr. Nelligan— 
 your note said seven, sharp." And without waiting for more, he 
 seized his hat. and hurried down the stairs. 
 
 "A downright fool!" said Scanlan, angrily. " Mr. Martin said 
 he'd write to you, if — if — if in fact you stood upon that punctilio ; 
 but that he'd be all the better pleased if you'd just accept acquaint- 
 ance as freely as he oflered it, and come and dine there to-day, like a 
 friend." 
 
 " Isn't there, or has there not, been some difference between him 
 and my fiither?" asked Joe. 
 
 "A trifle — and a mistake ; the kind of thing that two men of calm 
 heads, and common sense, could have settled in five minutes, and 
 which, to say the truth, Martin was right in throughout. It's all 
 passed and over now, however, and it would be worse than foolish to 
 revive it. There's Miss Martin !" cried he, "and I have a word to 
 say to her ;" and hurried oif, without waiting for more. As he passed 
 from the room, however, a letter fell from his pocket, and as JN^elligan 
 stooped to take it up he saw that it was addressed to himself He 
 looked hesitatingly at it for a moment or two, scarcely knowing 
 whether or not he ought to break the seal. " It was meant for 
 me, at all events," said he, and opened it. The contents were as 
 foUows : 
 
 " Mr. Martin presents his respects to Mr. Joseph jN'elligan, and 
 will feel happy if — excusing the want of formal introduction — Mr. 
 Nelligan will admit him to the honour of acquaintance, and give him 
 the pleasure of his society at dinner, to morrow, at seven o'clock. 
 Mr. Martin does not hesitate to say, that to accept this uncere- 
 monious proposal, will be felt as a very great favour indeed by him 
 and his family." 
 
 " "What does Scanlan mean by all this ? "Why not have handed 
 me this note at once ?" was Xelligan's question to himself, as he 
 descended the stairs and gained the street. He was not sorry that 
 Scanlan was not in sight, and hastened homeward to think over this 
 strange communication. Joe well knew that his mother was not 
 peculiarly endowed with Avorldly wisdom or acuteness, and yet such 
 was his need of counsel at the moment, that he determined, at least 
 in part, to lay the case before her. " She can certainly tell me," said 
 he, " if there be any reason why I shoidd decline this proposal." And 
 with this resolve he entered the cottage. 
 
 "Don't you remember Catt}^ Henderson, Joe?" said his mother, 
 as he came into the room, and presenting a young girl, very plainly
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIK, 71 
 
 but neatly dressed, who arose to receive him with an air of well-bred 
 composure — " Catty, that used to be your playfellow, long ago ?" 
 
 " I didn't know you were in Ireland, Miss Henderson. I should 
 never have recognised you," said Nelligan, in some confusion. 
 
 "Nor was I till a few days back," said she, in an accent very 
 slightly tinged Avith a foreign pronunciation. " I came home on 
 Tuesday." 
 
 " Isn't she grown, Joe ? and such a fine girl, too. I always said 
 she'd be so ; and when the others would have it that your nose was 
 too long for the rest of your features, I said, ' Wait till she grows up 
 — wait till she's a woman ;' and see now if I'm not right." 
 
 It must be owned that Joe Nelligan's confusion during the delivery 
 of this prophetic criticism was far greater than Catty's own, who 
 received the speech with a low, gentle laugh, while Mrs. Nelligan 
 went on : "I made her stay till you came back, Joe, for I wanted her 
 to see what a tall creature you are, and not more than twenty, her 
 own age to a month ; and I told her what a genius you turned out, 
 indeed to the surprise of us all, and myself especially." 
 
 " Thank you, mother," said he, smiling. 
 
 " JN'o, indeed, my dear, 'tis your father you may thank for all your 
 talents and abilities ; a wonderful man he is, beginning the world 
 without a sixpence, and there he is now, with I'm sure I don't know 
 how many hundreds a year in land— ay. Catty, in broad acres ; just 
 like any Squire in the county. Well, well, there's many a change 
 come over the country since you were here — how many years is 
 it now ?" 
 
 " Upwards of twelve," said the young girl. 
 
 " Dear me, how time flies. It seems like yesterday that you and 
 Joe had the measles together, in the little yellow room up at Broom 
 Lodge, and your poor mother was alive then, and would insist on 
 giving you everything cool to drink, just because you liked it, though 
 I told her that was exactly the reason it was sure to be bad for j^ou, 
 for there's nothing so true in life — that everything we wish for is 
 wrong." 
 
 "An unpleasant theory, certainly," said Catty, laughing, "but I 
 hope not of universal application, for I have been long wishing to see 
 you again." 
 
 " Well, well, who knows whether it maybe good or bad," said she, 
 sighing; "not but I'm pleased to see you growing up the image of 
 your poor dear mother — taller, maybe, but not so handsome, nor so 
 genteel-looking ; but when you have your trials and troubles, as she
 
 72 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 had, maybe that will come too, for I often remarked, there's no- 
 thing like affliction to make one genteel." 
 
 " Why, mother, you are profuse in unhappy apothegms this morn- 
 ing," said Joe. 
 
 '* And are you coming to stay amongst us now. Catty, or are you 
 going back to France again?" said Mrs. Nelligan, not heeding the 
 remark. 
 
 " I scarcely know as yet," replied the young girl. " My father's 
 letter to summon me home, said something about placing me as a 
 governess, if I were capable of the charge." 
 
 " Of course you are, my dear, after all your advantages ; not but 
 that I'd rather see you anything else — a nice light business, for 
 instance, in baby-linen or stationery, or in Miss Busk's establish- 
 ment, if that could be accomplished." 
 
 A very slight flush — so slight as to be nearly imperceptible — crossed 
 the young girl's cheek, but not a syllable escaped her, as Mrs. 
 iXclligan resumed. 
 
 " And there was an excellent opening tlie other day at the Post 
 here, in the circulating library way, and lendiiig out a newspaper or 
 two. I don't know how much you might make of it. Not but maybe 
 you'd rather be companion to a lady, or what they call a ' nervous 
 invalid.' " 
 
 " That, too, has been thought of," said the girl, smiling, " but I 
 have little choice in the matter, and happily as little preference for one 
 as the other of these occupations. And now I must take my leave, 
 for I promised to be back by two o'clock." 
 
 " "Well, there's Joe will see you home with pleasure, and I'm sure 
 you have plenty to say to each other about long ago. Not but I hope 
 you'll agree better than you did then. You were the torment of my 
 life, the wav vou used to fight." 
 
 " I couldn't tliink of trespassing on Mr. Joseph's time ; I should 
 be quite ashamed of imposing such trouble on him. So good-by, 
 Godmamma— good-by, Mr. Joseph," said she, hurriedly throwing her 
 shawl around her. 
 
 " If you will allow me to accompany you," said Joseph, scarcely 
 knowing whether she rejected or accepted his escort. 
 
 " To be sure she will, and you have both more sense than to fall 
 out now ; and mind, Josepli, you're to be here at four, for I asked 
 Mrs. Cronan to dinner." 
 
 " Oh, that reminds me of something," said Joe, hurriedly ; and he 
 leaned over his mother's chair, and whispered to her, " Mr. Martin
 
 THE iIAIlTI>'S OF CKO' MAETIN. 73 
 
 has invited me to dine witli him to-day ; here is his note, which came . 
 to me in rather a strange fashion." 
 
 " To dine at the Xest ! May I never ! But I scarcely can heheve 
 my eyes," said Mrs. Xelligan, in ecstasy. " And the honour, and 
 the pleasure, too ; well, well, you're the lucky boy." 
 
 " What shall I do, mother ; isn't there something between my 
 father and him?" 
 
 " AVhat will you do, but go ; what else would you do ? I'd like to 
 know. What will they say at the Post when they hear it ?" 
 
 " But I want you to hear how this occurred." 
 
 "Well, well; I don't care — go you must, Joe. But there's poor 
 Catty walking away, all alone ; just overtake her, and say that a sudden 
 invitation from the Martins — mention it as if you were np there 
 every day " 
 
 But young Xelligan did not wait for the conclusion of this artful 
 counsel, but hiurying after Catty Henderson, overtook her as she had 
 gained the beach. 
 
 '■ I have no need of an escort, Mr. Joseph," said she, good" 
 humouredly. " I know every turn of the way here." 
 
 " But you'll not refuse my companionship ?" said he. " We have 
 scarcely spoken to each other yet." And, as he spoke, he drew his 
 arm within her own, and they walked along in silence. 
 
 " My mother thinks we did nothing but quarrel long ago," said he, 
 after a pause ; " but if my memory serves me truly, it was npou this 
 very pathway we once swore to each other vows of a very different 
 kind. Do you recollect anything of that. Miss Henderson ?" 
 
 " I do, Mr. Joseph," said she, with a sly half-glance as she uttered 
 the last word. 
 
 " Then why ' Mr. Joseph ?' " said he, half reproachfully. 
 
 " Whv ' Miss Henderson?' " said she, with a malicious smile at the 
 other's confusion, for somehow Joseph's manner was far less easy than 
 her own. 
 
 " I scarcely know why," replied he, after a short silence, " except 
 that you seem so changed — and I myself, too, am probably in your 
 eyes as much altered — from what we both were, that — that " 
 
 " That, in short, it would be impossible to link the past with the 
 present," said she, quickly; "and you were quite right. I'm con- 
 vinced the effort is always a failure, and prejudices in a Imndred ways 
 the good qualities of those who attempt it. Let us, therefore, begin 
 our acquaintance here — ^learn to know each other as we are — that is, 
 if we are to know each other at all." 
 
 " Why do you say that ?" asked he, eagerly.
 
 74 THE mahtins of ceo' mautin. 
 
 " For many reasons. "We may not meet often ; perhaps not at all ; 
 perhaps under circumstances where to renew intimacy might be diffi- 
 cult. Assuredly, although the path here might once have sufficed us, 
 our roads in life lie widely apart, now, and the less we travel together 
 the more we shall each go towards his own goal, and — and the less 
 regret we shall feel at parting; and so now, good-by !" 
 
 " You wisli it ?" said he, reproachfully. " You desire this ?" 
 
 " What matters it whether I wish it or not. I know it must be. 
 Good-by." 
 
 " Good-by, then — good-by," said he, affecting as much indiffer- 
 ence as he could ; and then, slightly raising his hat, he turned away 
 on the road homeward. 
 
 Joseph Nelligan's reflections were not of the pleasantest as he 
 sauntered slowly back. He was not exactly satisfied with himself — 
 he felt, he could not just say how, that the young girl had had the 
 mastery over him — she was more calm, or self-possessed — she had 
 more tact, or she knew more of life — had more of self-control, or 
 breeding, or some other quality, whatever it might be, than he had. 
 At all events, he was ill at ease and discontented. Then he doubted 
 whether he ought to have taken her at her word when she talked, of 
 parting. It might, possibly, have been meant by her to evoke some 
 show of resistance on his part — that same inequality of station she 
 seemed to hint at might, perhaps, demand from him a greater defer- 
 ence. In fact, whichever way he turned the matter over, he saw 
 little cause for self-gratulation, nor did he discover that it mended 
 matters when he tried to accuse her of French frivolity, and such other 
 traits as he fancied of foreign origin. 
 
 In this not over-pleasant mood was it that he re-entered the cot- 
 tage, where his mother was busy in preparing a very formidable 
 cravat for the approaching dinner-party. 
 
 "Ah, Joe!" said slie, anxiously, "if you were to dress now, and 
 then stay quiet, j^ou'd be quite fresh when the time came ; for re- 
 member, it's not like your father you are, that has the ways of the 
 world about him, and can converse about everything that comes upper- 
 most ; but with all your learning, you know, you always feel some- 
 how " 
 
 " Stupid, mother ?" 
 
 " Xot stupid, my dear, but depressed — out of spirits in society ; 
 so that my advice to you is, now, dress yourself in good time, take a 
 small glass of ginger-cordial, and throw your eye over the second 
 chapter of ' Social Hints,' with an accoxuit of conversation before and
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIK. 75 
 
 at dinner, and some excellent advice about ' compliments, meet for 
 every season of the year.' " 
 
 "Do you think such preparations quite necessary, mother?" 
 asked Joe, slily ; for he rather relished the simplicity of her counsels. 
 
 " To be sure I do ; for yours is no common difficulty, Joe. If you 
 talk of country matters, you'll get into Kyle's Wood and the Clian- 
 cery suit ; if you touch politics, or religion, it will be worse again. 
 The Martins, I hear, never play cards, so you can't allude to them ; 
 and they'll be too grand to know anything about poor Miss Cuddy 
 going off with the Sergeant of Police, or what Con Kelly did with 
 his aunt's furniture." 
 
 "So that really the topics open to me are marvellously few." 
 
 " Well, there's shooting; but to be sure you know nothing about 
 that, nor fishing either ; and I suppose farming, if you did understand 
 it, wouldn't be genteel. Indeed, I see little that isn't dangerous, 
 except the dearness of everything. I remark that's a subject nobody 
 ever tires of, and all can take their share in." 
 
 "And I conclude it to be fact, mother?" 
 
 " A very melancholy fact, my dear ; and so I said to Betty Gargan, 
 yesterday. ' It's well for you,' said I, ' and the likes of you, that 
 use nothing but potatoes ; but think of us, that have to pay sixpence 
 a pound for mutton, six-and-a-half for the prime pieces, and veal not 
 to be had under eightpence.' They talk of the poor, indeed ! but 
 sure they never suffer from a rise in butcher's meat, and care nothing 
 at all what tea costs. I assure you I made the tears come into her 
 eyes, with the way I described our hardships." 
 
 "So tliat this will be a safe subject for me, mother?" 
 
 " Perfectly safe, my dear, and no ways mean, either ; for I always 
 remarked that the higher people are, the stingier they are, and the 
 more pleasure they take in any little sharp trick that saves them six- 
 pence. And when that's exhausted, just bi'ing in the Eams." 
 
 " The Rams !" 
 
 " I mean my aunt Earn, and my relations in Wexford. I'm sure, 
 with a little address, you'U be able to show how I came to be mar- 
 ried beneath me, and all the misery it cost me." 
 
 " AYell, mother, I believe I have now ample material," said Joe, 
 rising, with a lively dread of an opening which he knew well boded 
 a lengtliy exposition, "and to my own want of skill must it be 
 ascribed if I do not employ it profitably." And with this he hurried 
 to his room to pi'epare for the great event. 
 
 The " Gentlemen of England" do not deem it a very formidable
 
 76 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 circumstance to repair towards seven, or half-past, to a dinner-party, 
 even of the dullest and most rigid kind. There is a sombre " routine" 
 in tliese cases, so recognised that each goes tolerably well prepared 
 for the species of entertainment before him. There is nothing very 
 exhilarating in the prospect, and as little to depress. It is a leaf torn 
 out of one of the tamest chapters in Life's Diary, where it is just as 
 rare to record a new dish as a new idea, and where the company and 
 the cookery are both foreknown. 
 
 No one goes with any exaggerated expectations of enjoyment ; 
 but as little does he anticipate anything to discompose or displease 
 him. The whole thing is very quiet and well-bred, rather dull, but 
 not unpleasant. Now, Joseph Nelligan had not graduated as a 
 "Diner out;" he was about as ignorant of these solemn festivals as 
 any man well could be. He was not, therefore, without a certain 
 sense of anxiety as to the conversational requisites for such occa- 
 sions. Would the company rise to themes, and places, and people of 
 which he had never as much as heard ? or would they treat of ordinary 
 events, and if so, on what terms ? If politics came to be discussed, 
 would Mr. Martin expect him to hear in silence opinions from which 
 he dissented ? Dare he speak his sentiments, at the cost of directing 
 attention to himself? — a course he would fain have avoided. These, 
 and innumerable other doubts, occupied him as he was dressing, and 
 made him more than once regret that he had determined to accept 
 this invitation ; and when the hour at last came for him to set out, 
 he felt a sense of shrinking terror of what was before him greater 
 than he had ever known, as he mounted the dreaded steps of the 
 College Examination Hall. 
 
 He might, it is true, have bethought him of the fact, that where 
 Simmy Crow and Maurice Scanlan were guests, he too might pass 
 muster without reproach ; but he did not remember this, or at least 
 it failed to impress him sufficiently. Nor was his dread without a 
 certain dash of vanity, as he thought of the contrast between the 
 humble place he was perhaps about to occupy at a great man's table, 
 and the proud one he had achieved in the ranks of scholarship and 
 science. Thus musing, he sauntered slowly along till he found him- 
 self in front of the little garden of the Osprey's Nest. He looked at 
 his watch — it was exactly seven ; so he pulled the bell, and entered.
 
 THE mahtins of cro' mahtin. 77 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MABTIN ARMS. 
 
 In tlie small and not over-neat parlour of tbe Martin Arms at 
 Oughterard, a young man sat at liis breakfast, at times, casting his 
 eyes over the columns of the Vindicator, and anon, strolling to the 
 window to watch the gathering of the country people at the weekly 
 market. The scene was one of that mingled bustle and languor 
 so characteristically Irish. Cart-loads of turf, vegetables, fruit, or 
 turkeys blocked up the narrow passage between booths of fancy 
 wares, gilt jewellery, crockery, and cutlery ; the vendors all eagerly 
 vociferating commendations of their stores, in chorus with still more 
 clamorous beggars, or the discordant notes of vagrant minstrelsy. 
 Some animal monstrosity, announced by a cracked-voiced herald and 
 two clarionets, added to a din, to which loud laughter contributed 
 its share of uproar. 
 
 The assemblage was entirely formed of the country people, many 
 of whom made the pretext of having a pig or a lamb to sell the 
 reason of their coming, but, in reality, led thither by the native 
 love of a gathering — that fondness to be where their neighbours 
 were — without any definite aim or object. There was, then, in 
 strong contrast to the anxious solicitation of all who had aught to 
 sell, the dreary, languid, almost apathetic look of the mere lounger, 
 come to while away his weary hour and kill time just like any very 
 bored fine gentleman who airs his listlessness along St. James's- 
 street, or lazily canters his enmci down Eotten-row. 
 
 Jack Massingbred, for he was the traveller, whose straw hat and 
 knapsack '-stood upon a table near, Avas amused at a scene so full 
 of its native cliaracteristics. The physiognomy, the dress, the bearing 
 of the people, their greetings as they met, their conduct of a bargain, 
 all bespoke a nation widely differing from the sister country, and set 
 him a dreaming as to how it was that equality of laws might very 
 possibly establisli anything but equality of condition amongst people 
 so dissimilar. 
 
 AYhilc thus musing, his eye chanced to rest upon the half-cflaccd 
 inscription over a shop door in front, and where the name of Daniel 
 Nelligan figured as "licensed for all kinds of groceries and spirits." 
 "Nelligan," repeated he to himself; "I shall certainly quiz my friend
 
 78 THE IIAETINS OF CEO' MAETITT. 
 
 Joe, when we meet, about liis namesake iu Ougliterard. How good 
 it would be to pick up some details of our friend opposite to torment 
 him with. AVliat rare fun to affect to have discovered a near relative 
 in this man of Iiidcs, glue, sugar, and Jamaica rum ! Eh, gad, I'll try 
 it." And with this resolve he crossed the street at once, and soon 
 found himself in the compact crowd which thronged the doorway of 
 this popular shop. 
 
 It was, indeed, a busy scene, since many who were there came as 
 much sellers as buyers, giving all the complexity of barter to their 
 several transactions. Here, was a staid countrywoman exclianging 
 lier spunyarn, or her "clotli," as it is called, for various commodi- 
 ties in tea, candles, and such like ; here, a farmer, with a sample of 
 seed oats in his pocket-handkerchief, of which he wanted the value in 
 certain farm utensils ; here, was another, with a stout roll of home- 
 made frieze to dispose of; some were even fain to offer a goose or a 
 hen as the medium for a little tobacco, or some equally tempting- 
 luxury of cottier life. But there was another class of customers, who, 
 brusliing their way througli the throng, made for a small, dingy-look- 
 ing chamber behind the shop, iu which Mr. Nelligan performed the 
 functions of banker and money-lender, discounting small bills, ad- 
 vancing loans, and transacting all the various duties of a petty 
 capitalist ; means by which, it was alleged, he had already amassed a 
 very ample fortune. 
 
 An announcement in writing on the glass-door of this sanctum in- 
 formed Massingbred that "Bank-notes" were exchanged, and "small 
 loans advanced on good security," suggesting to him at once the 
 means of opening an acquaintance with the interior. Without any 
 very definite purpose, however, he now found himself one of a very 
 closely-packed crowd within the chamber. At a small desk, around 
 which ran a railing of about a foot in height, serving, as it were, to 
 " filter the stream" of solicitation that poured in upon him, sat a dark- 
 eyed, bilious-lookiug man of about fifty ; a black wig cut in two deep 
 arches over the temples showed a strongly-formed, massive head, very 
 favourably in contrast to the features beneath it, which were only 
 indicative of intense shrewdness and cunning. The eyes, in particular, 
 were restless and furtive-looking, distrust and suspicion giving their 
 entire expression — qualities it Avas to be owned in very active em- 
 ployment in the intercourse of his daily life. 
 
 The anxious looks around him — careworn, eager, tremulous with 
 uncertainty as they were, seemed the very opposite to his own, full of 
 the security that a strong purse bestows, and stern in the conscious 
 strength of his affluence.
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 79 
 
 "It won't do, Hagan," said he, "witli a half-smile, as he pushed 
 back through the grating a very dirty discoloured jDiece of paper. 
 " Tou'll be oif to America before it comes due. I wouldn't take the 
 Lord-Lieutenant's note at six months, as times go." 
 
 " See now, Mr. Nelligan," replied the other, pressing his face close 
 to the cage, and talking with intense eagerness. " May I never see 
 Christmas, but I'll pay it. 'Twas marryiu' the daughter left me low 
 in cash ; but with the blessin' of Clod and your help " 
 
 " I hope you're more certain of the blessing tlian the help. What's 
 this with a string round it?" continued Nelligan, addressing another 
 applicant. 
 
 " 'Tis a roll of notes I wanted to ax your Honour about. Molly 
 never ' let on' she had them till Friday last ; and now that James is 
 going away and wants a trifle to fit him out " 
 
 " Why, they're French's Bank, man, that broke years ago ; they're 
 not worth a farthing !" 
 
 " Arrah, don't say so, and God reward you," cried the poor fellow, 
 while hia eyes filled up and his lip trembled convulsively ; " don't 
 take the hope out of my heart all at oust. Look at them again, your 
 Honour, and maybe you'll think different !" 
 
 " If I did I'd be as great a fool as yourself, Patsy. The bank is 
 closed,' and the banker dead this many a day, aud I wouldn't give you 
 sixpence for sixty thousand of them. Take him out in the fresh air — 
 give him a mouthfid- of water," added he, hastily, as the wretched 
 countryman staggered back, sick, and almost fainting with the sad 
 tidings. 
 
 "Mrs. Mooney," said he, addressing a pale, mild-featured woman 
 in a widow's cap and black gown, "you can't expect to hear from 
 Dublin for a week or ten days to come. It takes some time to ad- 
 minister ; but if you are in want of a few pounds ^" 
 
 " No, Sir, thank you," said she, in a low voice ; " but as I can't go 
 back to the place again — as I'll never be able to live there, now " 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry, Mrs, Mooney ; do nothing rash. None of 
 us know what we can do till we're tried. There's Miles Dogherty 
 never thought he'd be paying me that eight pound fifteen he owes 
 me, and see now if he isn't come with it, to-day." 
 
 "Faix, and I am not," sturdily responded a very powerfully built 
 man in the comfortable dress of a substantial farmer. " I don't owe 
 it, and I'll never pay it ; and what's more, if you get a decree against 
 me to-morrow. I'd sell every stick and stone in the place and go to 
 ' Quaybec' "
 
 80 THE MAETIXS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 " Indeed you wouldn't, IMiles, not a bit more tliau I'd go and take 
 tbe law of an old friend and neighbour." 
 
 *' Fail, I never thought you would," said the stout man, wiping his 
 forehead, and appearing as if he had forgotten his wrath. 
 
 " And now, Miles, what about that water-course ?" said Nelligan, 
 good-humourcdly ; " are you content to leave it to any two fair 
 
 men " 
 
 As he got thus far, his eye for the first time fell upon Massingbred, 
 who, with folded arms, was leaning against a wall, an attentive spec- 
 tator of the whole scene, 
 
 " That is a stranger yonder; what can he want here ?" said Nelli- 
 (^aii. who watched the attentive look of Massingbred's face with con- 
 siderable distrust. He whispered a few words into the ear of a man 
 beside him, who, making his way through the crowd, addressed the 
 young man with, 
 
 " It's the master. Sir, wants to know if he could do anything for 
 your Honour?" 
 
 " For me ? oh, you spoke to me .'"' said Massingbred, suddenly re- 
 called to himself, " Tes, to be sure ; I wanted to know — that is, I 
 
 was thinking " And he stopped to try and remember by what 
 
 device he had purposed making Mr. Nelligan's acquaintance. 
 
 While he thus stood doubting and confused, his eyes suddenly met 
 the black, searching, deep-set orbs that peered at him behind the 
 grating, and without knowing how or why, he slowly approached 
 him. 
 
 " In what way can I be of any use to you. Sir ?" said Nelligan, in 
 a tone which very palpably demanded the reason of his presence 
 there. 
 
 Jack ISIassingbred was eminently " cool ;" that is, he was possessed 
 of that peculiar assurance which rarely suffers itself to be ruffled by a 
 difficulty. In the intercourse of society, and with men of the world, 
 he could have submitted to any test unabashed, and yet now, in 
 presence of this shrewd-looking and very comm.on-place personage, he 
 somehow, felt marvellously ill at ease, and from the simple reason that 
 the man before whom he stood was not of his " world," but one 
 of a set of whose habits and thoughts and ways he was in utter 
 
 Ignorance. 
 
 Nelligan's question was a second time addressed to him, and in the 
 same' words, before he thought of framing a reply to it. For a second 
 or two it occurred to him to say that he had strolled in, half inadver- 
 tently, and apologising for the intrusion, to withdraw ; but his pride 
 was offended at the notion of defeat this conduct implied, and with an
 
 THE MAUTINS OF CRO' ilAETIN. 81 
 
 assumption of that conveutional impudence far more natural to liim, 
 he said : 
 
 " It was your name, Sir, attracted me ; tlie name ' Nelligan,' which 
 I read over your door, being that of a very dear and valued friend of 
 mine, suggested to me to inquire whether you might not be rela- 
 tives." 
 
 The cool indifference which accompanied these words, uttered as 
 they were in a certain languid drawl, were very far from predisposing 
 Nelligan in favour of the speaker ; while the pretence of attaching 
 any singularity to a name so common as his own struck him at once 
 as indicative of covert impertinence. 
 
 " Nelligan is not a very remarkable name down here, Sir," drily 
 responded he. 
 
 "Very possibly," replied Jack, with all his accustomed ease. "I 
 know little or nothing of Ireland. Tour namesake, or your relative, 
 perhaps, was a College friend of mine, but to what part of the coun- 
 try he belonged I never knew." 
 
 The words, a " College friend," roused the other's anxiety, and lean- 
 ing forward eagerly, and dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, 
 
 " "Where ? In what College may I ask. Sir ?" 
 
 " In Trinity, Dublin." 
 
 "The Medallist of this year, you mean?" said the other, almost 
 breathless in his anxiety. • •; .. 
 
 " Just so. The same fellow who has been sweeping away all the 
 honours of his day. You have heard of him, it would seem?" 
 
 " He is my son. Sir. I'm Joe jN'elligan's father !" 
 
 Massingbred's astonishment did not betray itself by any change of 
 feature ; not a word escaped him ; but liis eye ranged over the scen& 
 aroujid him, and came back to rest upon old Nelhgan's face with an- 
 expression of the calmest meaning. 
 
 " AYhat a fortunate accident — for me, I mean," continued he. " Joe 
 and I are very dear friends, and it is a great happiness for me ta 
 make his father's acquaintance. Is he with you now ?" -• • ■- 
 
 " No, Sir ; he's at the sea — a place called Ivilkieran, about twenty 
 miles away ; but we'll have liiiu back by to-morrow if you'll stay Avith 
 us, and I'm sure you'll not refuse me tliat pleasure. The young gen- 
 tleman who is my son's friend, is mine also, if lie'll permit mo to call 
 him so ; and now just tell me what name shall I say 1 — who is it that 
 I'm to tell Joe has arrived here ?" ,., 
 
 " Say tliat Jack Massingbred is come, and I'll lay my life on't 
 you'll see him here as fast as may be." 
 
 " And now, Mr. Massingbred, just take up your quarters with us. 
 
 G
 
 82 THE MABTINS OF CEO' MARTIN". 
 
 Wlierc are you stopping ? I'll send over the boy for your trunks, for 
 I needn't say that this must be your home while you stay at 
 OuMiterai'd." The genial tone of warm hospitality in which he now 
 spoke made him seem a very different man from the hard-featured 
 old money-lender he had appeared when Jack first beheld him, and 
 Massiugbrcd I'cturned his cordial shake hands with a pressure equal 
 to his own, while he said, 
 
 " Be assured that I accept your offer most heartily. My whole 
 baggage is a knapsack and a fishing-rod, so that if you admit me 
 as vour guest you must dispense with all beyond the very humblest 
 requirements. I have no coat, except this on me ; and, Avhen I brush 
 my hair, I have dressed for dinner." 
 
 " Ton are amongst very humble people, Mr. Massingbred — a 
 country shopkeeper, and his wife, and son — and they'll be only too 
 happy to feel that you don't despise their company. Come, and I'LL 
 show you your room." And so saying, Nelligan led him up a narrow 
 stair, and at the end of a corridor opened a door into a neatly-fur- 
 nished chamber, which looked out into a spacious garden. The whole 
 interior was scrupulously clean and comfortable ; and as Jack sur- 
 veyed his new dominions, he inwardly blessed his good fortune that 
 had piloted him into such a haven. 
 
 " I'll just step down and write to Joe. Meanwhile, you'll have 
 your things brought over to you. Make yourself at home here — at 
 least, as much as you can in such a place — and when you want any- 
 thing, just ask for it." And with these words old Nelligan left him 
 to his own thoughts. 
 
 Whatever savoured of an adventiu'e was the delight of Jack 
 Massingbred. He was one of those men whose egotism take the 
 shape of playing hero to themselves — a tolerably large category 
 amongst the spoiled children of this world. To be thrown into any 
 strange or novel position, with associates he was unused to, and 
 amidst circumstances totally unlike all he had ever met b.efore, was 
 his greatest happiness ; and although, here, there was nothing like 
 actual peril to heighten the zest of the enjoyment, there was a certain 
 dash of embarrassment in the situation that increased its piquancy. 
 This embarrassment lay in his approaching meeting with young 
 Kelligan. 
 
 All the reserve his young College friend had maintained witli 
 regard to his family was at once explained ; and Jack began to think 
 over how often it must have occurred to him to say the most galling 
 and offensive things in his ignorance of Nelligan's real station. " If 
 he had been frank and open vnth. me," said he to himself, " this 
 would never have happened." But therein Jack made two errors,
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETES". 83 
 
 since Nelligan was in uowise bound to make sucli revelations, nor 
 was MassLDgbred tlie man to distinguish himself amongst his asso- 
 ciates by a close friendship with the son of a country shopkeeper. 
 He had been trained in a very different school, and taught to esti- 
 mate his own station by the standard of his companionship. Indeed, 
 he had witnessed the lenity which met his transgressions when they 
 occurred in high company, and saw his father pay the debts he had 
 contracted amongst titled associates with a far more generous for- 
 giveness than had tliey taken tlieir origin with more plebeian friends. 
 " What could have induced the man to become a Fellow-Commoner," 
 said he, over and over ; " it is such a palpable piece of presumption ?" 
 The truth was, Jack felt excessively irritated at never having even 
 suspected his friend's pretensions, and was eager to throw the blame 
 of a deception where none had ever been practised. 
 
 " They told me I should find everything very different here from 
 in England, but they never hinted at anything like this." There 
 came then another phase over his reflections, as he asked himself, 
 " But what affair is it of mine ? Nelligan never thrust himself on 
 me, it was I that sought him. He never proposed introducing me 
 to his family, it was I that made them out — I, in fact, who have im- 
 posed myself upon them. If I deemed the old Grrocer infra dig., I 
 need never have known him ; but I have not felt this to be the case. 
 He may be — indeed, Joe JN'elligan's father ought to be — a very supe- 
 rior fellow, and at all events the whole situation is new, and must be 
 amusing." 
 
 Such were the course of his thoughts as he arranged his clothes in 
 the little chest of di-awers, put out his few books and papers on the 
 table, and proceeded to make himself perfectly at home and comfort- 
 able in his new quarters. 
 
 The embari-assments of selfish men are always lighter than those 
 of other people, then* egotism filling, as it does, such a very large 
 space in the sea of their troubles. Thus was it that Massingbred 
 suffered little discomfort at the thought of his friend Xelligan's pro- 
 bable shame and awkwardness, his thoughts being occupied by how 
 lie, clever fellow that he was, had traced out his home and origin — 
 won, by a few words, the old father's esteem, and established himself, 
 by his own sharp wits, a guest of his house. 
 
 " It is a downright adventure," said he ; he even thouglit how the 
 thing would tell afterwards at some convivial meeting, and set about 
 dramatising to himself his own part in the incident, to heighten the 
 piquancy of the narrative. He resolved to conform in everything to 
 the habits of the household — to accommodate himself in all respects 
 to old JSelligan's tastes, so that Joe sliould actually be amazed at tlic 
 
 a2
 
 81 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAHTIN. 
 
 versatile resources of liis nature, aud struck \vitli astonislimont at this 
 new evidence of liia powers. 
 
 Nor was Mr. Nelligan idle during all this time : the thought of a 
 fellow-Collegian of his sou Joe being a guest under his roof was a 
 very proud and inspiring reflection. It was such a recognition of 
 Joe's social claims — so ilat a contradiction to all the surmises of 
 those who deprecated his College life, and said " that old J)an was 
 wrong to put his boy into Trinity " — that he already regarded the 
 incident as the full earnest of success. 
 
 " AVhat would have brought him here, if It wasn't for Joe ? How 
 would he ever have been under my roof, if he wasn't Joe's friend ?" 
 There was a palpable triumph here that nothing could gainsay, and 
 with a proud heart ho locked up his desk, resolving to do no more 
 business that daj--, but make it one of enjoyment. 
 
 " AV^ho will I get to dine with us," thought he, " since Joe can't have 
 the letter before this evening, and do his best ho won't be here before 
 morning?" The question of those who should lill the places aroiuid 
 his board was a dillieulty he had never experienced before, for Mr. 
 Nelligan was the first man in Oughterard, and never had any trouble 
 about his dinner company. His politics — very decided as they were 
 — drew the line amongst his acquaintances, and the Liberal party 
 well knew that they alone were the partakers of his hospitalities. 
 There now, however, came the thought that the most respectable 
 residents of the town — Dr. Dasy, of the Infirmary; ]\Ir. Scanlan, the 
 
 Attorney; and Morris Croft, the Adjutant of the Galway , were 
 
 Conservatives. These were the fit company to meet young Massing- 
 bred, at least for the first day ; afterwards, ho might be introduced to 
 their own set. And yet. Father Neal liallerty would be outraged at all 
 this. Peter Ilayes, of the Priory, would never enter his doors again ; 
 and Peter Ilayes had made a will in favour of Joe Nelligan, and left 
 liim every sixpence ho had in the world. " AVhat if we mixed them 
 all together?" said Dan, fairly puzzled by all the conflicting interests, 
 " A good dinner, some excellent port wine, and ' lashings' of whisky- 
 punch, might moidd the ingredients together — at least, when under 
 the restraint of a stranger's presence — sufliciently to pass muster!" 
 
 From his doubts as to how the experiment would succeed, came 
 others as to whether the guests would condescend to meet ; and thus 
 his embarrassments went on iucreasing around him without his finding 
 a way through them. 
 
 " That's an elegant salmon I saw Catty bringing home to you, 
 Nelligan?" said a red-fiiced man, with large white whiskers, and a 
 most watery look iu his eyes.
 
 THE MAIiTI>'S or CEO' MARTIIf. 85 
 
 " Yes, Brierley, there's a young Gentleman just come down here — 
 a friend of Joe's in College, to stop a day or two with us." 
 
 " A ISTob ?" said the other, with a wink. 
 
 Nelligan nodded assent, and Avent on : 
 
 " And I'm just bothered how to get two or three, to make company 
 for him." 
 
 " If it's grandeur you want, why don't you go over to the Barracks 
 there, and ask Captain Downie and the two others ? Faix ! it's a 
 hearty welcome you'd get, for they've never seen the inside of Cro' 
 Martin since the detaeliment came here." 
 
 "It's my own acquaintances I'd like to ask to my house, Mat 
 Brierley," said Nelligan, proudly; "and the time was when they 
 weren't shy of coming there." 
 
 " '^laat do you say to Peter Hayes, then?" said the other. " If 
 you mean to do the civil thing, you'll ask him before he buys that old 
 highwayman of a goose he's cheapening yonder ; and there's i'ather 
 Eafferty in the snuff-shop, and Tom Magennis, and myself ; and that 
 makes six, just the right number for the little round table." 
 
 IS'elligan paused, and seemed to reflect over the proposition. 
 
 " You'll be quizzing the Englishman — ' taking a rise' out of the 
 Saxon, Brierley?" said Xelligan, distrustfully. 
 
 " Devil a bit ; I know better manners than that!" 
 
 " Tom Magennis would have at him about politics ; I know he 
 couldn't refrain. And I needn't tell you that English notions are 
 not ours upon these topics." 
 
 " Give Tom a hint, and he'll never touch the subject." 
 
 " And Father Xeal, will you vouch for him tliat he won't attack 
 the Established Church, and abuse tlie Protestants ?" 
 
 " That I will, if he's not provoked to it." 
 
 " Can you answer for yourself, Mat Brierley, that you won't try to 
 borrow a five-pound note of him before tlie evening's over?" said 
 Kelligan, laughingly. 
 
 " I've a friend here," said Brierley, tapping the other on the 
 breast, " that would never see me in want of such a trifle as that." 
 
 Nelligan made no other reply to this speech than a somewhat 
 awkward grimace, and walked hurriedly on to overtake a tall and very 
 fat man tliat was just turning the corner of the street. This was Father 
 Keal Eafferty. A very flourisliing wave of his Keverence's hand, and 
 an urbane bend of his body, betokened the gracious acceptance he 
 gave to the other's invitation ; and Brierley walked away, muttering 
 to himself: " They may thank me for this dinner, then; for old Dan 
 was going to feed the ' sweUs,' if I hadn't stopped him."
 
 86 THE MARTINS OF CEO' ITARTIIT. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DINNER PARTY. 
 
 People who live much together, in small and secluded districts, 
 oTow at length to feel a very great distrust for all strangers. Their 
 own wavs and tlieir own topics have become such a perfect world to 
 them, that to feel ignorant of these themes appears like affectation 
 or contempt; and the luckless man, who drops down into such a 
 " coterie," is invariably deemed impertinent or a fool. Jack Massing- 
 bred fully appreciated this difficulty ; but it imparted such a piquancy 
 to his "adventure," as he persisted in calling it to himself, that he 
 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 impatiently, awaiting his arrival. 
 
 It is a very cold, calculating sort of interval, that ten minutes 
 before dinner ; and men regard the stranger presented to them with 
 feelings far more critical than kindly. Massingbred did not go 
 through the ordeal unscatlied ; and it was easy to see in the con- 
 straint 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 imeasy and anxious ; and poor old 
 Peter Hayes, of the Priorj^, downright melnneholy. Massingbred 
 saw the effect he was producing, and saw it with pleasure. His cal- 
 culation was this. Had I started " at speed" with these fellows, they 
 would have blown me at once. All my efforts to assimilate myself 
 to their tastes, to join in their habits and adopt their notions, would 
 have been detected in a trice. They must be brought to believe that 
 they have made a convert of me themselves ; the wider the space 
 between us at first, the greater will be their merit in making me 
 forget it in the end.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN, SST 
 
 As the wliiskj-pimch made its appearance, and the bottle of port 
 was passed up beside the stranger, Massingbred tlionglit tlie time was 
 come when he might change his tactics, and open the campaign in 
 force. " Xo," said he, as the host pushed the wine towards him, 
 " I've come over here to try and learn something about Ireland, and 
 I must give myself every advantage of judging from a native point of 
 view. This excellent old port may strengthen a man to stand by 
 many an old prejudice, but my object is to lay in a new stock of ideas, 
 and I'd rather try a new regimen." 
 
 " That's your bottle, then, Sir. Try that," said Brierley, pushing 
 towards him a small square decanter of a faint greenish fluid. 
 
 "That is 'poteen,' Mr. Massingbred," said the host. "It's the 
 small still that never paid the King a farthing." 
 
 " I like it all the better, for that reason," said Jack. " There's 
 somethmg independent in the very thought of a liquor that never 
 submitted to the indignity of a guager." 
 
 "That's not a very English sentiment, Sir," said the Priest, 
 slily. 
 
 " I don't know whether it be or not," re;ioined Massingbred ; " but 
 I can neither perceive common sense or justice in a law that will not 
 allow a man to do what he likes with his own. Why, if Parliament 
 declared to-morrow you 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 potato and water is their diet," said old Hayes, as he 
 sipped his punch. 
 
 " I can believe it weD," said Massingbred, with great semblance of 
 feeling. " I witnessed dreadfid poverty and destitution as I came 
 along, and I couldn't help asking myself — AVhat are the gentry about 
 in this country ; do they or do they not see these things ? K they 
 do, are they indifferent to them ?" 
 
 " They are indifferent to them ; or even worse, they rejoice in 
 them," broke in a deep-voiced, energetic-looking man, who sat at the 
 foot of the table, and had, although silent, taken a deep interest in 
 the conversation. " They see. Sir, in the destitution of Ireland an- 
 other rivet in the chains of lier 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." . >
 
 88 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 " Mr. iMagennis is the dearest friend and trusty agent of Mr. 
 O'Connell," said Nelligan in a whisper to Massingbred. 
 
 " Here's his health, who ever said that !" cried Jack, enthusiasti- 
 cally, and as if not hearing the host's observation. 
 
 " That's a toast ; we'll all drink — and standing, too," exclaimed 
 Magenuis. " ' Daniel O'Connell, Gentlemen ; liip, hip, hurra !' " And 
 the room rang again with tlic hearty acclamation of the company. 
 
 " By Jove ! there was something very fine — it was chivalrous — in the 
 way he brought the Catholic question to issue at last. The bold ex- 
 pedient of testing the event by an individual experience was as clever 
 as it was daring," exclaimed Massingbred. 
 
 " Tou were in favour of the measure then, Sir ?" said Father Neal, 
 with a bland smile that might mean satisfaction or suspicion. 
 
 " I was always an Emancipationist ; but I am little satisfied with 
 the terms ou which the Bill has been passed. I'd have had no re- 
 strictions — no reservations. It should, according to me, have been 
 unconditional or nothing." 
 
 " You've heard the old proverb about half a loaf, Sir ?" said Hayes, 
 with a dry laugh. 
 
 " And a poor adage it is, in its ordinary acceptation," said Jack, 
 quickly. " It's the prompting spirit to many a shabby compromise ! 
 AVliat disabilities should apply to any of us here, in regard to any 
 post or position in our country's service, by reason of opinions whicb 
 are between ourselves and our own liearts — I say any of us, because 
 some here — one I perceive 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 bo on this side." 
 
 " You're not in Parliament, Sir, are you ?" asked old Peter, with 
 a seriousness that sorely tested the gravity of those at either side of 
 him. 
 
 " No," said Jack, frankly. " My Father and I don't agree on these 
 subjects ; and, consequently, though there is a seat in my family, I 
 have not the 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 sliall I own to you, till I came to this 
 country myself, I half believed that this same humble opinion of us
 
 THE ilAETINS OF CEO' MAETIIS", 89 
 
 was to ovir credit ! I used to hear such narratives of Irish barbarism, 
 Irish brutality, Priestcraft, Superstition, and Heaven knows what be- 
 sides, that I fully persuaded myself that our small repute was very 
 nigh to a eulogium on us. Well, I came over to Trinity CoUege 
 strongly impressed with the notion that, because I had gained suc- 
 cesses at Oxford, here, I should be triumphant. It is in no boastful- 
 ness 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 agamst him, and I 
 learned, also, that it was no disgrace to me to be thus vanquished, 
 since he was not alone the foremost man of his time, but the best 
 scholar the University had seen for a full century ; and shall I add, 
 as unpretending and as modest in the midst of all his triumphs as be 
 was unapproachable by all competitors. And now, Gentlemen, I will 
 ask your leave to drink his healtli ; doubtless it has been many a time 
 toasted before over the same table, but none ever more ardently fol- 
 lowed the sentiment with his whole heart than do I in proposing to 
 you, 'Three cheers for Joe jSTelligan.' " 
 
 The rambling opening of this brief speech was quite forgotten in the 
 enthusiasm that greeted its close. In every respect it was a happy 
 diversion. It relieved the company from a discussion that promised 
 but gloomily. It brought back their minds to a pleasant theme, and 
 enabled them, so to say, to pay off in grateful cheers to their host his 
 own hospitable reception of them. As for Nelligan himself, he was 
 sincerely, deeply affected ; and, though he twice essayed to speak, he ; 
 could get no further than " my son Joe" — "my boy" — and sat down 
 murmuring — " Thank you — God bless you for it" — and covered his 
 face with his hands. 
 
 Awkward as was the moment, it was relieved by the company 
 filling their glasses and nodding in most friendly fashion to Massing- 
 bred as they drank his health ; while a low murmur of approbation 
 went round the table, of which he was most unmistakably the object. 
 
 " Are you fond of shooting, Sir ?" asked Brierley. " Well, then, 
 I hope you'll not leave the country without giving me a day or 
 two up at my little place in the mountains. Tliere'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 Magenuis. "My 
 ' august leader' spent a day and a half there."
 
 90 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 "I'll drive you over there myself," whispered Fatter Neal, "if 
 you'll finish the week at the ' Eookery ' — that's what they call the 
 Priest's house." 
 
 Massingbred accepted everything, and shook hands across the table 
 in ratification of half a do7X>n engagements. 
 
 " You dou't think I'll let you clieat me out of my guest so easily," 
 said Nelligan. " No, gentlemen. This must be Mr. Massingbred's 
 head-quarters as long as he stays here, for, faith, I'd not give him up 
 to Mr. Martin himself." 
 
 " And who may he be ?" asked Jack. 
 
 « Martin of Cro' Martin." 
 
 " The owner of half the county." 
 
 " Of the town you're in, this minute." 
 
 "The richest proprietor in the "West." 
 
 Such were the pattering replies that poured in upon him, while 
 words of intense astonishment at his ignorance were exchanged on 
 all sides. 
 
 " I believe I have given you a fair guarantee for my ignorance, 
 gentlemen," said Jack, "in confessing that I never so much as heard 
 of Martin of Cro' Martin. Does he reside on his estate here ?" 
 
 "Yes, Sir," said Nelligan, "he lives at Cro' Martin Castle, about 
 sixteen miles from this ; and certainly, while in this part of the 
 country, you ought to pay the place a visit. I have never been there 
 myself, but I hear the most astonishing accounts of the spleudovu* of 
 the furniture and the magnificence of the whole establishment." 
 
 "There's pictures there," said the Priest, "that cost the Grand- 
 father 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 woidd give foiu' 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 foiu' hundred pound !" 
 
 "The stable is the best thing in the place," said Father Neal ; 
 " they've 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 dri^iDg an old chesnut mare this minute that she trained,"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETDT. 91 
 
 said the Priest ; " aud tliougli she hasn't a good leg amongst the four, 
 and is touched in the wind, she's as neat a stepper, and as easy in 
 the mouth as a five-year old." 
 
 " She's a fine young woman !" said old Hayes, drinking ofi" his 
 glass, as though toasting her to himself, " and not like any Martin 
 ever I seen before." 
 
 " No pride about her!" said Brierley. 
 
 "I wouldn't exactly say that, Matthew," interposed Father Weal. 
 " But her pride isn't the common kind." 
 
 "She's as proud as Lucifer!" broke in Nelligan, almost angrily. 
 " Did you ever see lier drive up to a shop-door in this town, and 
 make the people come ou.t to serve her, pointing with her whip to 
 this, tliat, 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 Honan's cabin, and turning the bread on the 
 griddle for her, when Catty was ill." 
 
 " Is she handsome ?" asked Massingbred, who was rather interested 
 by the very discrepancy in the estimate of the young lady. 
 
 " We can agree upon that, I believe. Sir," said the Priest ; " there's 
 no disputing about her beauty." 
 
 "I never saw her in a room," said Magennis ; " but my ' august 
 leader ' thought her masculine." 
 
 " No, no," said Nelligan ; " she's not. She has the Martin manner 
 — overbearing and tyrannical — if you like ; but she can be gentle 
 enough with women and children." 
 
 " You have certainly given me a strong curiosity to see her," said 
 Massingbred. " Does she always live here ?" 
 
 " Always. I don't believe she was ever beyond the bounds of the 
 county in her life !" 
 
 " And how does she pass her time ?" asked he, with some astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "She manages the whole estate," said Nelligan; " her rTncle's a 
 conceited old fool, incapable of anything, and lets her do wliat she 
 lUvCs ; and so she drains, and plants, and encloses, makes roads, 
 bridges, and even harbours; has all the new-fangled inventions about 
 farming, and, if what I hear be true, is spending more money on the 
 property than the fee-simple is worth." 
 
 " Yes, Sir," cliimcd 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 o^vn, but
 
 92 THE MAHTINS of ceo' MAUTIir. 
 
 just to vote whatever tlie landlord tells them. She had the impu- 
 dence 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 
 squahbles." 
 
 " If she'd let the people alone about their religion, I'd think better 
 of her," said Father IS'eal. " What docs she know about contro- 
 versial 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, IMr. 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 shilliugs, 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, anyhow," said Brierley ; " and it's 
 a new thing for one of her name to be so !" 
 
 "All policy — all scheming !" said Magennis. "She sees how the 
 family influence has declined, and is fast becoming obliterated in. this 
 country, by reason of their worthlessness, insolence, and neglect of 
 the people ; and she's just shrewd enough to see how far a little 
 cajolery goes with poor Paddy ; but, as my * august leader ' observed, 
 it is not a frieze coat, nor a pair of brogues, that can compensate for 
 the loss of that freedom, that is every man's birthright ; and it is not 
 by an ounce of tea, or a dose of physic, we'll ever see Ireland great, 
 glorious, and free." 
 
 " 'Pirst gem of the earth, and first flower of the sea!' " exclaimed 
 Hayes, with enthusiasm. 
 
 Kor 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. 
 
 "Pm fond of 'The Meeting of the Waters,' Sir," said Hayes, 
 meekly, and like a man who was confessing to a weakness. 
 
 "And here's the man to sing it!" cried Brierley, clapping the 
 Priest familiarly on the shoulder ; a proposal that was at once hailed 
 with acclamation. 
 
 " 'Tis many a long day I haven't sung a note," said Father 
 !Neal, modestly. 
 
 " Come— come. Father Xeal ; we'll not let you off tliat way. It's 
 not under this roof that you can make such an. excuse !"
 
 % 
 
 ^/f.
 
 THE irAETI^*S OF CEO' MAETIiN'. 93 
 
 " He'd ratlier give us sometliing more to his own taste," said 
 Brierley. " ' To Ladies' eyes around, boys' — eh. Father RafFerty ?" 
 "That's my favourite of all the songs he sings," broke in Ma- 
 
 gennis. 
 
 " 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 
 "'lass.' " 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 Brierley and Magennis, and, at last, by old Peter 
 himself, who warbled out a wonderful ditty, in a tone so doleful 
 that two of the company fell fast asleep under it, and Brierley's 
 nerves were so afiected, that, to support himself, he got most com- 
 pletely 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 dis- 
 cretion — have you no decency, Peter Hayes, but you must go on 
 with your stupid old ' cronia'WTi' about dimples and the devil knows 
 what?" 
 
 " Another tumbler, Mr. Massingbred — one more ?" said the host, 
 with the air, however, of one who did not exact compliance. 
 
 " Not for the world," said Jack, rising from table. " Have I your 
 permission to light a cigar ?" 
 
 " To do just whatever you please," said Nelligan, rather astonished 
 at' the formal preparations for smoking he now perceived brought 
 forth, and which at the time we tell of were not so popular as in our 
 own day. 
 
 The Priest alone accepted Massingbred's offer of a " weed ;" and 
 Nelligan, opening a door into an adjoining room where tea was laid, 
 threw also wide a little sash-door that led into the garden, whose cool 
 and fragrant air was perfectly delicious at the moment. Jack stroUed 
 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 stuft" in him," said tlie Priest, in a 
 whisper to Nelligau. 
 
 " And no impudence about him," said Brierley ; " he's just like one 
 of ourselves." 
 
 " He has a wonderful opinion of Joe!" said Nelligan.
 
 94 THE MAETINS OF CBO' MAETIK. 
 
 " He's the very man for my ' august leader,' " said Magennis. " I'd 
 like to bring tliem 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 NeUigan," said the Priest, con- 
 fidentially, " talents won't do everything, uow-a-days, without high 
 connexions ; 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 — "plenty of brass. Ay, Dan, if Joe could borrow 
 a little of his friend's impudence, it woiJd be telling him some- 
 thing." 
 
 Nelligan nodded assentingly ; it was about the only quality in the 
 world which he could have believed Joe stood in any need of gettiug 
 a loan of. 
 
 " Joe beat him out of the field," said Dan, proudly. " He told me 
 so himself this morning." 
 
 " No doubt ; and he would again, where the contest was a College 
 one ; but ' Life,' my dear friend — ^life demands other gifts beside 
 
 genius." 
 
 " Ganius !" broke in old Hayes, with an accent of the profoundest 
 contempt — " Ganius ! I never knew a ' Ganius' yet that wasn't the 
 ruin of all belonging to him ! And whenever I see a young fellow 
 that Imows no trade, nor has any livelihood — who's always borrowiug, 
 here, and begging, there — a torment to his family and a burden to his 
 friends, I set him down at once for a ' Ganius.' " 
 
 " It's not that I was alluding to, Mr. Hayes," said the Priest, in 
 some irritation. " I spoke of real ability, sterUng powers of mind and 
 thought, and I hope that they are not to be despised." 
 
 " Like my ' august leader's !' " said Magennis, proudly. 
 
 " Ay, or like that young gentleman's there," said Father Neal, 
 with the tone of a man pronouncing upon what he understood. " I 
 watched him to-day at dinner, and I saw tliat every remark he made 
 Avas slu'ewd and acute, and that whenever the subject was new to 
 him^ he fell into it as he went on talking, picking up his facts while 
 he seemed to be discussiug them ! Take my word for it, gentlemen, 
 he'll do!" 
 
 " Ho doesn't know much about flax, anyhow," muttered old 
 Hayes. 
 
 " He took his punch like a man," said Brierley, beariug testimony 
 on a point where his evidence was sure to have weight.
 
 THE MAETIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 95 
 
 " He'll do !" said Father Neal once more, and still more authori- 
 tatively than before. 
 
 " Joe carried away every premium from him," said old jSTelligan, 
 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. IN'elligan" 
 — and he drew himself up like a man about to deliver a profound 
 opinion — " here's how it is. The mind that can master abstract 
 science, is one thing ; the faculties that can deal with fellow-mortals, 
 is another. This world is not a University !" 
 
 " The Lord be praised for that same !" cried old Hayes, " or I'm 
 afraid I'd fare badly in it." 
 
 " To unite both descriptions of talent," resumed the Priest, ora- 
 torically, " is the gift of but few." 
 
 " My ' august leader ' has them," broke in Magennis. 
 
 " Show me the man that can deal with men!" said Father Neal, 
 dictatorially. 
 
 " Women is twice as hard to deal with!" cried old Hayes. " I'll 
 back Nancy Drake against any man in the barony." 
 
 " Faith, and I remember her a pretty woman," said Brierley, who 
 would gladly have enticed the conversation out of its graver cha- 
 racter. "A prettier girl than Mary Martin herself!" continued the 
 inexorable Brierley, for the company did not appear to approve of his 
 diversion. 
 
 " We are now discussing politics — grave questions of State, Sir," 
 said Father Neal — " for we have come to times when even the most 
 indiiferent and insignificant amongst us cannot refrain feeling an 
 interest in the progress of our country. And when I see a fine 
 young man like that there, as one may say going a-begging for a 
 party, I tell you that we are fools — worse than fools — if we don't 
 secure him." 
 
 "Do you mean for the borough ?" asked Nelligan. 
 
 " I do, Sir ; — I mean for the borough !" 
 
 " Not till we have consulted my 'august leader,' I hope," broke 
 in Magennis. 
 
 " I'm for managing oui* own alfairs 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
 
 DG THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 plain that either the Priest's proposition was not fully acquiesced in, 
 or tliat the mode of announcing it was too abrupt. Perhaps this 
 latter appeared the case to his own eyes, for he was the first to 
 speak. 
 
 " Of course what I have said now is strictly among ourselves, and 
 not to be mentioned outside of this room ; for until my friend Dan 
 Nelligan here consents to take the field against the Martin interest, 
 there is no chance of opening the borough. Let him once agree to 
 that, and the Member for Oughterard will be his own nominee." 
 
 " Do you really think so ?" asked Nelligan, eagerly. 
 
 "I know it. Sir — and every gentleman at this table knows it." 
 
 A strong chorus in assent murmured around the board. 
 
 " It would be a great struggle," muttered Nelligan. 
 
 " And a great victory !" said the Priest. 
 
 "AVhat a deal of money, too, it would cost!" 
 
 " You have the money, Dan Nelligan ; and let me tell you one 
 thing" — here he leaned over his chair and whispered some words in 
 the other's ear. 
 
 Old Xelligan's face flushed as he listened, and his eyes sparkled 
 with intense excitement. 
 
 " If I thought that—ii I only thought that, Father Kafi"erty— I'd 
 spend half my fortune on it to-morrow." 
 
 " It's as true as I'm a living man," said the Priest, solemnly ; and 
 then with a motion of his hand gestured caution, for Massingbred 
 was slowly ascending the steps, and about to enter the room. 
 
 "With an instinctive readiness all his own, he saw in the embar- 
 rassed and conscious looks around that he had himself been the 
 object of their discussion, and with the same shrewdness he detected 
 their favourable feeling towards him. 
 
 " I have made them my own !" muttered he to himself. 
 
 " lle'U do our work well !" said the Priest in his heart.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' ilAETiy. 97 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 YOUNG NELLIGAN — AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WAYS. 
 
 "I EATHEE like that young Xelligan," said Martin, the day after 
 Josepli had made his first appearance at dinner. " He talks plea- 
 santly, and nothing of a pedant, as I half dreaded he might be." 
 
 " I thought his manner respectful, and very proper for his station," 
 said Lady Dorothea, with an air of dignity. 
 
 " He spoke of politics, too, with less of prejudice, less of class 
 bitterness, than I could have expected." 
 
 "Some policy, perhaps, in that," remarked her Ladyship. 
 
 "Possibly !" said Martin, with a careless shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 " He was in a measure on his trial amongst us, and felt the im- 
 portance of making a favourable first impression." 
 
 " It was more trouble than his father would have taken, then," 
 said Martin, smiling. " Old Dan, as they call him, is not a very con- 
 ciliating 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 considei'able share of influence in his town 
 of Oughterard." 
 
 " A very shocking feature of the time we live in !" exclaimed Ladv 
 Dorothea. 
 
 " So it may be ; but there it is — ^just like the wet weather, and the 
 typhus, and the sheep-rot, and fifty other disagreeable things one 
 can't help." 
 
 " But at least they can avoid recurring to them in conversation, 
 Sir. There is no necessity to open the window when the look-out ia 
 a dreary one." 
 
 3Iartin made no reply, and a pause of some moments ensued. 
 
 " What arrangement did you come to with him about his party in 
 the Borough ?" said slie at last. 
 
 "I didn't even allude to the topic," replied he, half testily. 
 " These things are not to be done in that hasty fashion ; they require 
 management, discretion, and a fitting opportunity, too."
 
 98 THE MAETi:SS OF CEO' MAETIIT. 
 
 " "Why, you talk of your Grocer's boy as if he were a Cabinet 
 Minister, Mr. Martin ; you treat him like a great diplomatist !" 
 
 " It was not exactly on the first occasion of bis being in my house, 
 that I could have broached the matter." 
 
 " Which implies that you mean to invite him again?" 
 
 " Possibly !" was the abrupt rejoinder. 
 
 " And must the odious Attorney always be of the party ?" 
 
 " No, Madam, the odious Attorney has set out for Dublin ; but 
 I shortly expect here one whom your Ladyship will, doubtless, call 
 an odious Lawyer — though he happens to be one of the foremost men 
 of the Irish bar." 
 
 "A class I detest," said her Ladyship. 
 
 " He has one consolation, at least, Madam," said Martin ; " he 
 figures in a pretty long category." 
 
 " And why should he not. Sir ? "W hat have I ever met in the 
 dreary eighteen years and seven months I have passed here, except 
 immitigated self-conceit, vulgarity, and presumption — the very type 
 of all three being your Dublin Barrister." 
 
 " Their countrymen certainly entertain another estimate of theni," 
 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. 
 JSTot but I feel assui'ed that ere long you and Miss Martin will 
 spoil him." 
 
 " I ! Aunt ?" said Mary, looking up from her work ; " how am I 
 to exercise the evil influence you speak of?" 
 
 " By the notice — the interest you vouchsafe him. Miss Martin, — ■ 
 the most flattering compliment to one in his station." 
 
 " If he bears Collegiate 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 Dorothea, haughtily; "and as to 
 College honours," added she, after a pause, " they are like school dis- 
 tinctions, of no earthly value out of the class-room." 
 
 " Faith, I don't know that," said Martin. "At least, in my own 
 experience, I can say, every fellow that has made a figure in life gave 
 indications of high ability in his College years. I could go over the 
 names of at least a dozen." 
 
 " Pray don't. Sir — spare your memory, and spare us. Miss Martin 
 and I will take it for granted that this young man is destined to be
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIK. . 99 
 
 Lord Chancellor — Ambassador at St, Petersburg — or anything else 
 you please. I have no doubt that the time is approaching when sucb 
 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 2)restiffe .'" 
 
 " Biit they soon would," said Mary, " if they feared to enter the 
 lists against those less well-born than themselves." 
 
 "Miss Martin!" exclaimed her Ladyship, "what words are 
 these ?" 
 
 " I hope they are void of offence. Aunt. Assuredly I never con- 
 ceived that I could wound any susceptibilities here by saying that 
 the well-born are ready to meet the plebeian on any ground." 
 
 " There is no necessity for siich 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 Eevolution reveals another story. Aunt, and tells us, 
 besides, how inferior were the nobles of that country in the day of 
 struggle." 
 
 " Upon my word, these are very pretty notions, young Lady. 
 Have they been derived from the intelligent columns of the Galway 
 Monitor, or are they the teachings of the gifted Mr. Scanlan ? xVs- 
 suredly, Mr. Martin," said slie, turning to him, " Papa was right, 
 when he said that the Irish nature was essentially rebellious." 
 
 " Complimentary, certainly," said Martin, laughing. 
 
 " He founded the remark on history. Papa was uncommonly 
 well read, and used to observe that there seemed somethine: in the 
 Celtic nature actually 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 inter- 
 marriage centuries ago, and change of blood ever since, the distinctive 
 element has been utterly lost." 
 
 " And yet wo are not English, Uncle," said Mary, with something 
 that smacked of pride. "Confess it: Ave have our nationality, and 
 that our people have traits of their own." 
 
 " That they have ; but I never heard them made matter of boast- 
 fulness before," said Lady Dorothea, sneeringly. 
 
 h2
 
 100 THE mahtins of cro martin. 
 
 " Well, Aunt, it is not too late to bear 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 experiences are 
 limited to the rags and recklessness of a semi-barbarous people. 
 Kay, Miss Martin, I'm not going to discuss tlie matter. I have 
 lived elsewhere — you have not. J have acquired habits — prejudices, 
 perhaps you'd call them — in behalf of twenty tilings that Irieli 
 civilisation sees no need of." 
 
 " Would it not be kind. Aunt, were you to aid us by the light of 
 these same experiences ?" said Mary, with an air of well-assumed 
 humility. 
 
 " Certainly not, at the price of intercourse with the natives !" 
 ■exclaimed her Ladyship, haughtily. " I detest, on principle, the 
 Lady Bountiful character. The whole of that hymn-book, castor- 
 oil, and patent-barley sympathy, is shockingly vulgar. Like many 
 things, well done at first, it fell into low hands, and got spoiled." 
 
 The tone of sarcasm in which this was spoken made Mary's 
 cheeks crimson, and the flush spread itself over her neck. Still she 
 made no reply, but, bending down her head, continued to work more 
 assiduously. 
 
 " AVhen are we to leave this place, Mr. Martin ?" asked her Lady- 
 ship, 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 cer- 
 tainly 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 
 -tsked Eepton to come down here and see the place." 
 
 " But you can drive him over from Cro' Martin. It would be in- 
 ttolcrable, the idea of remaining here just for him. So we shall go to- 
 inorrow, 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 tete-a-tCte with his niece, stepped 
 noiselessly at the same moment by another door.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 101 
 
 Scarcely had the door closed behind Lady Dorothea, when it ^Yfls 
 reopened to admit Joe jSTeliigan, who had met her Ladysliip 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 tlio truth is, I know next to nothing of 
 society and its habits, and if you would only be kind enough to tell 
 me when I. am a transgressor " 
 
 "The notion of learning from me is perfect," said Mary, interrupt- 
 ing him with a pleasant laugh. " Why, Mr. Nelligan, I never could, 
 be taught anything, even of the most ordinary rules of ceremonial 
 life! though," added she, slily, " I have lived certainly in tlie midsl) 
 of great opportunities." 
 
 "But, then, J 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 T was 
 impatient to correct an impression which might have remained from 
 something tliat 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 lie. " It is better, at the cost of a little 
 wounded vanity, that I should escape a misconception. When your 
 Uncle spoke to me, last night, about the division of parties in the 
 Eorough You are smiling again, Miss Martin !" 
 
 " Don't you perceive. Sir, that what amuses me is the mistaken 
 estimate you have formed of me, by addressing mc on such topics ?" 
 
 " But I came here expressly to speak to you," said he, witli in- 
 creased eagerness ; " for I have always heard — always understood — 
 that none ever took a deeper interest in all that regarded the covnitry 
 than yourself." 
 
 " If you mean, by the countr}', the lives and fortunes of those who 
 live in it — the people by whose toil it is fertilised — by whose traits 
 it is a nation — I tell you frankly that I yield to none for interest in 
 all that touches them ; but if you come to talk of privileges and 
 legislative benefits, I know nothing of them ; they form a land of 
 whose very geography I am ignorant." 
 
 " But the subject is the same, and the mind which comprehends 
 one, could enibrace the other." 
 
 " In the one, however, I can labour usefully and fittingly, without
 
 102 THE MA.ETINS OF CEO' MAETIIf, 
 
 niuch risk of mistake — never, indeed, of any mistake tliat miglit prove 
 of serious moment. The other involves great questions, and has great 
 hazards, perils, to affright stronger heads than mine!" 
 
 " There is much in what you say," said he, reflectingly. 
 
 "There is far more than I am able to express," said she, warmly. 
 " Just remember, for a moment, that of all the laws you great and 
 wise men are making, over which you rant and wrangle, and assail 
 each other so vindictively, how few ever touch the interests or de- 
 scend to the fortunes of those for whom you assume to make them — 
 that the craftiest devices of your legislation never uproot an old pre- 
 judice, nor disturb an antiquated susperstition ; while I, and such 
 as I — and there need be nothing more humble— can by a little timely 
 help in trouble — a little care, or even a little counsel — comfort many 
 a failing heart — cheer up many a sinking spirit — and, better still, do 
 good service by teaching the poor man that he is of one family with 
 those better off than himself, and thi^t he is not an outcast because he 
 is lowly!" 
 
 As Mary went on, her eyes shone more brilliantly, and her cheeks 
 glowed, till Kelligan 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, Tncle," — for Martin 
 was abeady about to retire — " it is Mr. Nelligau 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 recalliug 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 Avill hold me responsible " 
 
 " Not for anything, except your pledge to dine here to-morrow at 
 
 seven " 
 
 Notwithstanding all the ease and frankness of Martin's manner— 
 and as manner it was perfect— the young man felt far from satisfied. 
 His want of breeding— that cruel want strong enough to mar the pro- 
 mise of high ability, and even impaii- the excellence of many a noble
 
 ^^i.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MABTIlf. 103 
 
 nature — seemed to liold liim fast bound to the object of his visit. 
 He had come for an exphxuation, and he coiddn't go away without it. 
 Mary read his difficulty at once, and as she passed him to leave the 
 room, said, in a low voice, " To-morrow evening." 
 
 Nelligan started at the words, and his face became scarlet. What 
 could she have meant ? "Was it that she wished him to come, and 
 had thus condescended to remind him of his promise ? or was it to 
 suggest a more fitting moment to return to the late discussion ? 
 " Are you coming to luncheon, Nelligan ?" said Martin, rising. 
 " No, Sir ; not to-day. I have a call — a visit — some miles off." And 
 while he was yet stammering out his excuses, Martin waved a familiar 
 good-by with his hand, and passed into the adjoining room. 
 
 " And what can this mean ?" said Nelligan to himself. "Is this 
 the cordial treatment of an intimate, or is it contemptuous indifference 
 for an inferior?" And. far more puzzled tlian he should have been 
 with the knottiest problem of the "Principia," he quitted the house 
 and strolled homewards. 
 
 His way led along the shore, and consequently in front of that 
 straggling row of cottages w^hich formed the village. It chanced to 
 be the last day of the month, and, by the decree of the Almauack, 
 the close of the bathing season. The scene then going forward was 
 one of unusual and not unpicturesque confusion. It was a general 
 break-up of the encampment, and all were preparing to depart 
 to their homes, inland. Had young Nelligan been — what he was 
 not — anything of a Humorist, he might have been amused at the 
 variety of equipage and costume around him. Conveyances the 
 most cumbrous and most rickety, drawn by farm horses, or even 
 donkeys, stopped the way before each door, all in process of loading 
 by a strangely attired assemblage, whose Welsh wigs, flannel dress- 
 ing-gowns, and woollen nightcaps, showed how, by a common consent, 
 all had agreed to merge personal vanity in the emergency of the 
 moment. The innumerable little concealments which had sheltered 
 many a narrow household, the various little stratagems that had eked 
 out many a scanty wardrobe, were now abandoned with a noble sin- 
 cerity ; 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 com- 
 munity. 
 
 Such of the travellers as had taken their places were already sur- 
 rounded with the strangest medley of household gods it is possible to 
 conceive. Like tropliies, birdcages, candlesticks, spits, cullenders, 
 fenders, and bread-baskets bristled around tlicm, making one marvel 
 how they ever got in, or, still more, how tliey ever were to get out
 
 104< THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 again ; the croaking of invalids, with crying children, barking terriers, 
 and scolding owners, making a suitable chorus to the confusion. 
 
 Still, amidst all the discomforts of the moment, amidst tlie last 
 wranglings witli landlords, and the last squabbles over broken furni- 
 ture and missing movables, it must be owned that the prevailing 
 temper of the scene was good-humour and jollity. The Irish tempera- 
 ment 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 incon- 
 veniences, 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 backgammon-table, 
 with a portentous-looking cap-case in her lap. 
 
 " My mother will be sorry not to have seen you before you went 
 aAvay, Mrs. Cronan," said he to that lady, whose demure and frigid 
 demeanour made the speech sound like a bold one. 
 
 " I'd have left my card and my compliments, Sir, if I wasn't so 
 pressed for time," responded she, with a haughty gravity. 
 
 " With P. P. C. on the corner," said the Captain from his pony- 
 gig alongside ; " which means, pour prendre ' congo,' or ' congee,' I 
 never knew which." 
 
 " She'll be very lonely now, for the few days we remain," resumed 
 Joe, conscious of some awkwardness, without knowing where or how. 
 
 " iSTot with the society of your distinguished acquaintances at ' the 
 Nest,' Sir I" the sarcastic import of wliich reply was more in the manner 
 than the mere words ; while the old Captain murmured : 
 
 " Begad, she gave it to him there — a regular double-headed 
 shot!" 
 
 "We hope to follow you by the end of the week," said JSTelligan, 
 trying to seem at ease. 
 
 " If you can tear yourselves awa}^ 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.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 105 
 
 " Not for tlie 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 — gi*ape 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-lmmouredly, as he stepped 
 out of the way. 
 
 " That he is. Sir, though he never was leader in a four-in-hand ; 
 but, you see, poor creatures of quadrupeds forget themselves down 
 here, just like their betters !" 
 
 And the success of this sally was acknowledged by a general laugh 
 from the company. The tone of the speakers, even more than their 
 words, convinced Joseph that, from some cause or other, he Avas the 
 object of their sarcasms; and although slow to take offence — even to 
 the verge of what many might have called an unfeeling indifierence 
 — he felt their treatment most acutely. It was, then, in something 
 like a haughty defiance that he wished them a careless good-by, and 
 continued his way. 
 
 " The world seems bent on puzzling me this morning," muttered 
 he, as he sauntered slowly on. " People treat me as though I were 
 playing some deep game to their detriment — I, who have no game — 
 almost no future!" added he, despondingly, " For what avails it to 
 attain eminence amidst such as these ; and, as for the others, I was 
 not born for them." 
 
 To these moody thoughts succeeded others still gloomier. It had 
 only been A\ithin a short time back that the young man had begun to 
 appreciate the difficulties of a position to which his early successes 
 imparted increasing embarrassment ; and darkly brooding over these 
 things, he drew near his mother's cottage. She was already at the 
 door to meet him, with a letter in her hand. 
 
 " This is from your father, Joe," said she. " He wants you in all 
 haste up at the town; and I've packed your clothes, and sent off 
 Patsey for Mooney's car; so come in and eat something at once." 
 
 Joseph took the note from her hand, and perused it in silence. It 
 was brief, and ran thus : 
 
 " Dear Joe, — I want you up here, as soon as possible, to meet a 
 
 friend whom you'll be surprised to see. I say no more, but that 
 
 I expect you by dinner-time. — Yours ever, 
 
 "D. K"
 
 106 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MAETIN. 
 
 " "What does that mean, Joe ?" asked his mother. 
 
 He only shrugged his shoulders in reply. 
 
 ** And Avho can it be ?" said she, again. 
 
 "Some of the townspeople, of course," said he, carelessly. 
 
 " Ko, no, Joe ; it must be a stranger. Maybe it's Morgan Drake ; 
 his aunt expected him back from Jamaica before Christmas. Or it's 
 Corny Dwyer's come home from Africa ; you know he went on the 
 deploring expedition " 
 
 "Exploring! mother; exploring!" 
 
 " AVell, exploring, or deploring — it's all the same — he went four 
 years ago, and all the tidings they've had of him was an elephant's 
 tooth he sent home to his stepfather. I know it's Corny, for your 
 father always liked him and the funny stories he told." 
 
 " Perhaps so!" replied Joe. 
 
 " I wonder, is he grown any bigger ? he was little better than a 
 dwarf when he went away, and tlie 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 ?" 
 
 " Eemarkably so," said he, with more animation in his tone. 
 
 " A little bit too haughty-looking and proud, maybe, considering 
 her station in life, and tliat she has to go to service " 
 
 " Go to service, mother ?" 
 
 " To be sure she has. If they can't get her a place as a Governess 
 or a Companion, she'll have to take what she can get. Her father's 
 married again, my dear Joe; and when men do that!" And here 
 INIrs. 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 Sarali — ' Sarah,' says she, ' I've 
 but one comfort, and that is, that Catty wiU never want a mother 
 while you live. You'll be the same to her as myself— just as fond, 
 and just as forgiving ;' them was her very words !" 
 
 " And I hope you have never forgotten them, mother?" said Joe, 
 with emotion. 
 
 "Don't you see I 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 ?"
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 107 
 
 " Iso, but lier mother. Oh, it's nothing to laugh at, Joe. There 
 was Eliza Iveane 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 thinkiug of going, mother. I never meant to go," said 
 Joe, resolutely. 
 
 " Xever 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 crusty port will compensate 
 the company for even heavier inflictions than my absence." 
 
 " They were always fond of you, Joe," said Mrs. Nelligan, half 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, mother ; they never cared for me, nor was 
 there any reason why they should. I'm sure I never cared for them. 
 We endured one another, that was all." 
 
 " Oil, dear, but I'm glad your father is not listening to you," said 
 she, with a stealthy glance around, as though not perfectly assured 
 of secrecy. " So then, I suppose, there's nothing for it but to go up 
 myself, and make the best of it ; and sure it's all a lottery what 
 temper he's in, and how he'll take it. I remember when they put 
 the new duty on what was it, Joe ? I think it was hides " 
 
 "JS'ot the least matter, mother; you've only to say that Mr, 
 Martin has been kind enough to show me some attentions, and that 
 I am silly enough — if you like to say so — to prefer them to the 
 festive pleasui'es of Oughterard. In another week or so I shall have 
 to go back to College. Let me, at least, enjoy the few days of mj'- 
 vacation in my own fashion." 
 
 Mrs. Xelligan shook her head mournfully over these signs of 
 rebellion, and mutteriug many a gloomy foreboding, she went ofl^ to 
 her room, to make her preparations for the journey.
 
 108 THE ilAETINS OF CEO' MARTl?r. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A TEEr "CKOSS EXAMINATION." 
 
 The inoming was bright and sunny, the air sharp, crisp, and 
 bracing, as the heavy travelling- carriage, which conveyed Mr. Martiii 
 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 selfisli 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 
 Avho, snugly encased in furs, occupied the respective corners of the 
 ample coach ? Shall we own it ? — not any of them. A dreamy, un- 
 remarking iudiifercnce 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 green grassy slopes, Martin might have heard him with plea- 
 sure, and listened even with interest to his description. My Lady, 
 too, might not unwillingly have lent an ear to some flattery of the 
 splendid demesne of which she was mistress, and accepted, as half 
 homage, the eulogy of Avhat was hers. None 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 boy- 
 hood. The timber, indeed, had greatly grown — gracefvd saplings had 
 become stately trees, and feathery foliage deepened into leafy shade ; 
 but he himself had grown older too, and his sense of enjoyment, 
 dulled and deadened with years, saw nothing in the scene to awaken
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN". 109 
 
 pleasure. As for Lady Dorothea, she had reasoned lierself into the 
 notion that the walls of her own grounds were the boundaries of a 
 prison, and had loug convinced herself that she was a suffering 
 martyr to some mysterious sense of duty. From the drowsy languor 
 iu 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. 
 
 "AVhat have tliey done? Where are they going?" said Lady 
 Dorothea, peevishly. 
 
 And Martin called out from the window, in tones even less gentle. 
 " Oh! it's the new approach; the road is not quite completed," said 
 he, half sulkily, as lie 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 rouud 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 
 Avords. 
 
 " They've only broken a trace, I perceive," said he, casting a 
 hurried glance througli the window, as the carriage came to a dead 
 stop. 
 
 " You are equanimity itself. Sir, this morning," said her Lady- 
 ship, 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 liate 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 ? jMust they of 
 necessity depend on us for support, and require that we should 
 institute useless works to emplo}^ them ?" 
 
 As if to ofter a liviug 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 tlieir services. Some, 
 indeed, had already busied themselves to repair the broken harness, 
 and others were levelling the road, carrying stones to fill up holes, 
 and in every possible manner endeavouring to render assistance, but 
 all were vociferous in asserting that the delay would not bo above a
 
 110 THE MAETINS OF CEO' ilAUTIN. 
 
 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 
 tof^ether ; and, notwithstanding the evidences of the deepest destitu- 
 tion in their appearance, they w^ore 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 struqk with any of their peculiarities, and so he lay back in silent 
 apathy, and took no notice of them. 
 
 "With aU their alacrity and all their good-will — and there was no 
 lack of either — there was yet such a total absence of all system and 
 order, that tlieir eftbrts were utterly useless. Some tugged away 
 manfully to raise stones too heavy to lift ; others came rudely in 
 contact with feUows heavily laden, and upset them. The sturdy 
 arms that spoked the hind wheels were resolutely antagonised by as 
 vigorous struggles to move the fore ones. Every one shouted, cried, 
 cursed, and laughed, by turns, and a more hopeless scene of confusion 
 and uproar need not be conceived. 'Nov Avas Lady Dorothea herself 
 an inactive spectator ; for, with her head from the carriage-window, 
 she directed a hundred impossible measures, and sat down at last, 
 overcome with rage and mortification at their blunders. 
 
 The tumult was now at the highest, and the horses, terrified by 
 the noise around them, had commenced plunging and rearing fear- 
 fully, when Mary Martin came galloping up to the spot at full 
 speed. 
 
 " Let go that bridle, Hogan," cried she, aloud ; " you are driving 
 that horse mad. Loose the leaders' traces — xmbuckle the reins, 
 Patsey — the Avheelers will stand quietly. There, lead them away. 
 Speak to that mare, she's trembling with fear. I told you not to 
 come by this road, Barney ; and it was only by accident that I saw 
 the wheel-tracks. A thousand pardons. Aunt Dora, for this mishap. 
 Barney misunderstood my orders. It w^ill be all right in a moment. 
 Once over this bad spot, the road is hard and level." 
 
 " Having no taste, nor any genius for adventures. Miss Martin," 
 
 began her Ladyship But Mary did not await the remainder of the 
 
 speech, for, turning her horse sharply round, and beckoning to some 
 of the people to follow her, she was away across the lawn at a smart 
 canter. Having arrived at a small wooden bridge over a river, she 
 ordered the men to lift some of the planking, by the aid of which 
 they soon constructed a firm and safe passage for the carriage ; and,
 
 >0 
 
 (^, 
 
 r\) 

 
 THE ilAETIXS or CKO' MAETIX. Ill 
 
 as Tier presence was the signal foi- quiet obedience and prompt action, 
 in less than ten minutes the diiSculty was surmounted, the horses 
 reharnessed, and all in readiness to proceed on their way. 
 
 Martin looked on in silent satisfaction, not offering a single 
 suggestion, or even seeming to feel interested in the events, but 
 enjoying, with all a lazy man's pleasure, the activity displayed 
 around him. Not so Lady Dorothea. If she did not like " an 
 adventure," she loved a " grievance." AVhatever ministered to her 
 selfishness, even in the remotest degree, was grateful to her. Mary's 
 opportune arrival had now converted what might have passed for a 
 calamity into a mere momentary inconvenience ; and she could not 
 conceal her discontent. " Tour 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 Avhat might have be- 
 come one," said Martin, drily. 
 
 " "We are indebted to her, however, for the possibility. This de- 
 testable road, which I promise you I'll never come again, is entirely 
 her own invention. I hope. Miss Martin," added she, from the 
 window, " that the other approach is to be kept in repair — at least 
 for me," But Mary did not hear the appeal, for she was bandaging 
 the arm of a poor country fellow who had been sorely cut. 
 
 "There, drive on, Barney," cried Lady Doi'othea. "I shall be 
 taken ill if I stay here. Eeally, Mr. Martin, your niece's accomplish- 
 ments 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 
 arc indeed greatly to be pitied. No martyrdom ever exceeded yours. I 
 am quite aware of all my imperfections, and can at least fancy every- 
 thing you could say of me and my temper. — What did you say, 
 Collins?" said she, addressing the obsequious-looking servant, who, 
 Avitli 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 ?"
 
 112 THE ilAKTINS OF CRO MARTIN. 
 
 " No, my Lady. Mr. Ileudcrson drove her over iu his car, and 
 said he'd pass this way again in tlie evening." 
 
 And now her Ladyship swept proudly by, scarcely noticing the 
 bowing servants who had formed into a line along the hall, and who 
 endeavoured to throw into their sorrowful faces as much of joy as 
 mi"ht consist with the 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 place feels ! Collins, are you sure the rooms are 
 properly aired?" cried she, shuddering. "But I suppose it's the 
 climate. Have another stove put there," said she, pointing to an 
 impossible locality. 
 
 " Yes, my Lady," replied Collins. 
 
 "And warmer carpets on these passages." 
 
 " Tes, my Lady ; it shall be done to-morrow." 
 
 "No, Sir; to-day." 
 
 " Yes, my Lady ; tliis afternoon." 
 
 " I don't remember if the Aviudows are double along here." 
 
 " Yes, my Lady, they are all double towards the north." 
 
 " Then they fit badly, for I feel the draft acutely here. It's like 
 the keen air of a mountain ;" and Collins gave a slight sympathetic 
 shudder, and really looked cold. A somewhat haughty glance from her 
 Ladyship, however, as quickly reproved him, for Collins ought to have 
 known that it was not by such as himself changes of temperature 
 could be appreciable. And now she passed on and entered that part 
 of the mansion peculiarly her own, and where, it must be owned, her 
 spirit of fault-finding would have been at a loss what to condemn. 
 
 Lady Dorothea's library occupied an angle of the building, and 
 from this circumstance, included within its precincts an octagonal 
 tower, the view from which comprised every varied character of land- 
 scape. 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 
 Benvenuto, that had been discovered accidentally, and which, despite 
 the emulous zeal of Princes and Cardinals to obtain, was destined for 
 herself. Now, it was some choice mosaic, of which but one other 
 specimen existed, and that in the Pope's private collection at tlie 
 Quirinal. Such was her ardour in this pursuit of excellence, that 
 more than once had every object of this precious chamber been
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO MAETIK 113 
 
 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 
 Iiad passed the threshold of the tabernacle. Our reader may then 
 picture to himself something of Lady Dorothea's varied sensations — 
 for, indeed, they were most mingled — as she heard a slight cough 
 from within the chamber, and, drawing nearer, perceived a female 
 figure seated in front of one of the windows, calmly regarding the 
 landscape. 
 
 "With a degree of noise and bustle sufficient to announce her 
 approach. Lady Dorothea entered the tower; while the stranger, 
 rising, retired one step, and 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 
 here. I beg your Ladyship to believe that nothing was further from 
 my thoughts than to obtrude upon your privacy." 
 
 " Tour name ?" began her Ladyship ; and then, as suddenly cor- 
 recting herself, she said, "You are Miss Henderson, I suppose?" 
 
 " Tes, my Lady," she replied, with a slight bend of the head. 
 
 " I seat for you," said Lady Dorothea, in a half-careless tone, 
 while she turned over some books on the table, as if in search 
 of something — "I sent for you, partly at the request of your 
 }nother " 
 
 " My stepmother, my Lady," interposed tlic girl, calmly. 
 
 Lady Dorotlica 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, slio 
 added: " At the request of your friends, and partly out of curiosity." 
 And here Lady Dorothea raised her glass to her eye, and quietly
 
 114 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 
 
 Burvej-ed her ; au examinatiou Avliicli, it must be owned, noue could 
 have "borne with more unshaken fortitude, not the slightest tremor 
 of a limb, not the faintest change of colour, betokening that the 
 ordeal was a painful one. 
 
 " I do see that you have been educated in France," said her Lady- 
 ship, with a smile of most supercilious import, while a curtsey from 
 the vouug girl admitted the fact, 
 
 " AYere you brought up in Paris ?" asked she, after a pause. 
 
 " For four years, my Lady." 
 
 " And the remainder of the time, where was it passed ?" 
 
 " AVe travelled a great deal, my Lady, in Germany and Italy." 
 
 *' ' A7e' — who were the ' we' you speak of? Please to bear in mind 
 that I know nothing of your history." 
 
 " I forgot that, my Lady. I thought my stepmother had, perhaps, 
 informed your Ladyship." 
 
 " Of nothing whatever, child," said she, haughtily, " save of your 
 having a foreign education, and wishing, or hoping, to find some 
 engagement as a Governess or a teacher ;" and the last words were 
 drawled out languidly, as though they were suggestive of all that was 
 wearisome and a bore. " So you must be good enough to explain 
 who ' we' were." 
 
 " The Duchesse de Luygnes and her family, my Lady." 
 
 " You travelled with them — and in what capacity, pray ?" 
 
 " I was called companion to the Princesse de Coiu'celles, the eldest 
 daughter of the Duchess, my Lady." 
 
 " Companion ! — why, you must have been a mere child at that time ?" 
 
 " A mere child, my Lady ; but they took me from the Pensionnat, 
 to speak English with the young Princess." 
 
 " And then they took the charge of your education, I conclude ?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady." 
 
 " And to what extent — or rather, in what direction ; I mean, what 
 object had they in view in choosing your studies ?" 
 
 " They gave me the same Masters as to the young Princess, my 
 Lady ; and I was instructed in all respects as she was." 
 
 " And treated lilcc her also, I conclude ?" said Lady Dorothea, with 
 a sneering smile. 
 
 " Madame la Duchesse was ever most kind to me," said the girl, 
 half proudly. 
 
 " Kind — yes, of course — kind, if you conducted yourself properly 
 and to her satisfaction. A person of her condition would be kind ; 
 but I trust this did not proceed so far as to spoil you ? I hope it 
 never made you forget your station ?"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 115 
 
 " I trust it did not, my Lady." 
 
 " With what part of the establishmeut 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 futiu-e, for how can I, and others in ray station, avail my- 
 self 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 unbefi.tting your con- 
 dition, usages, habits, associations, ail foreign to a menial station. 
 You have been admitted to privileges, the want of which would be 
 felt as hardships. In fact, as I said before, they have done you irre- 
 parable injury. You must feel it yourself." 
 
 A very faint smUe, half in deprecation of the appeal, was the only 
 reply of the yourig girl. 
 
 " You are certain to feel it later on in life, if you are not sensible 
 of it at present, that I can vouch for, young woman," said Lady 
 Dorothea, with all the firmness with which she could utter an unplea- 
 sant speech. "Nothing but unhappiness ever resulted from such 
 ill-judged indulgence. Indeed, if your mother had mentioned the cir- 
 cumstance, I scarcely think I should have sent for you" — she paused 
 to see if any strong signs of contrite sorrow displayed themselves in 
 the young gh-l's features ; none such were there, and Lady Dorothea 
 more sternly added — " I may safely say, I never should have asked to 
 see vou." 
 
 When a speech meant to be severe has failed to inflict the pain it 
 was intended to produce, it invariably recoils with redoubled power 
 upon him who uttered it ; and so Lady Dorothea now felt all the pang 
 of her own ungenerous sentiment. With an efibrt to shake ofl" this 
 unpleasant sensation, she resumed : 
 
 " I might go furtlier, and observe, that miless you yourself became 
 thorouglily penetrated with the fact, you must always prove very 
 unsuitable to the station you are destined to occupy in life. Do you 
 understand me?" 
 
 " I believe I do, my Lady," was the calm reply. 
 
 "And also," resumed she, still more dictatorially — "and also, that 
 acquiring this knowledge by yourself aaHI be less painfid to your 
 
 i2
 
 116 THE MAETINS OF CRO MAETIN. 
 
 feelings than if impressed upon you by others. Do you fully appre- 
 hend inc ?" 
 
 " I think so, my Lady." 
 
 Xow, although the tone and manner of the young girl were unex- 
 ceptionable in all that regards deference and respect, Lady Dorothea 
 was not a little provoked at her unbroken composure. There was 
 no confusion, not even a semblance of constraint about her. She 
 replied to even sarcastic questions without the faintest shadow of 
 irritation, and exhibited throughout the most perfect quietude and 
 good breeding. Had the "young person" been overwhelmed with 
 shame, or betrayed into any access of temper, her Ladyship's manner 
 would have presented a pattern of haughty dignity and gracefulness, 
 and her rebukes would have been delivered in a tone of queen-like 
 superiority ; but Miss Henderson afibrded no opportunity for these 
 great qualities. She was deference itself : but deference so self-pos- 
 sessed, so assured of its own safeground, as to be positively provoking. 
 
 "Under all these circumstances, therefore," resumed Lady Do- 
 rothea, as if having revolved mighty thoughts within her mind, " it 
 appears to me you would not suit me." 
 
 But even this speech failed to call up one trait of disappointment, 
 and the young girl received it with only a deep 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 wUl do," said Lady Dorothea, angrily ; for any at- 
 tempt 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 to- 
 wards the door. Before she had reached it, however, Lady Dorothea 
 again addressed her : 
 
 " You forgot, I think, to tell me, why you left the Duchesse de 
 Luygnes?" 
 
 " I left on the marriage of the Princess, my Lady." 
 
 " Oh, I remember; she married a Eussian, I think." 
 
 " No, my Lady ; she married the Due de Mirecoui't, French Am- 
 bassador at St. Petersburg." 
 
 " Ah, to be sure. I knew there was something Eussian about it. 
 And so they sent you away then?"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MABTIK. 117 
 
 " The Duchess most kindly invited me to accompany her, my Lady, 
 but my father desired I should return to Ireland." 
 
 "And very properly," said Lady Dorothea; " he took a most just 
 view of the case ; your position would only have exposed you to great 
 perils. I'm sure you are not of ray opinion, for, distrust of yourself 
 does not appear one of your failings." — It is possible that this un- 
 generous remark was evoked by a very slight curl of the young girl's 
 lip, and which, faint as it was, did not escape her Ladyship's keen 
 glances. — " Good morning." 
 
 Again had Miss Henderson gained the door ; her hand was already 
 on the lock, when her Ladyship called out : " In the event of any- 
 thing occurring to me likely to suit you, I ought to know what you 
 can teach ; and mind, don't bore me with a mere catalogue of hard 
 names, but say what you really know." 
 
 " Some modern languages, my Lady, with music." 
 
 " No Greek or Latin?" said Lady Dorothea, half sneeringly. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Tes, 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 Trench initial books, my Lady." 
 
 " Why, you are quite an Admirable Crichton for acquirement. I 
 feel really abashed to find myself in such company." But even this 
 coarse speech failed to irritate, and Lady Dorothea walked angrily 
 towards the window and looked out. 
 
 It so chanced that, through an opening of the wood, she caught 
 sight of a large assemblage of workpeople, who, headed by Miss 
 Martin on horseback, were on their way to the quarries ; and as she 
 looked, a sudden thought flashed across her : " Why not retain the 
 'young person' as a companion for her niece? How admirably 
 would all this girl's knowledge contrast with Mary's ignorance. 
 What an unceasing source of disparagement would their contact 
 afibrd at the very moment that the arrangement miglit seem dictated 
 by the very best and highest of motives." 
 
 It may doubtless appear to many, that the indiv'idual who could
 
 118 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MAETIN. 
 
 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 sufiers 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 in- 
 fluence in the household — her rule over the peasantry of the estate — 
 was a perpetual soiu'ce 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 with Mr. Martin about 
 you," said she, turning towards Miss Henderson ; and, with a respect- 
 ful curtsey, the girl withdrew, leaving her Ladyship to her own some- 
 what complicated reflections. 
 
 In less than half an hour after Lady Dorothea proceeded to 
 Mr. Martin's study, where a cabinet council was held, the sub- 
 stance 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 dis- 
 played, that Mademoiselle Hortense, her maid, remarked to herself, 
 " Somebody or other was sure to pass a mauvais quart cTTieiire when 
 Miladi goes to her room with an air of such triumphant meaning as 
 that." 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 "a housekeeper's room." 
 
 Ceo' IMaetin was replete with every comfort and luxury. All its 
 arrangements betokened wealth ; not a single appliance of ease or 
 enjoyment but was to be found within its well-ordered walls ; and yet 
 there was one want which seemed to mar all, and infuse a sense of 
 almost dreary coldness over everything, and this was — the absence of 
 a numerous family — the assemblage of various ages, which gives to a 
 home its peculiar interest, embodying the hopes and fears, and pas-
 
 THE IMAETINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 119 
 
 sions and motives of mauliood, in every stage of existence, making 
 up that little Avorld witlnn doors whicli emblematises the great one 
 without ; but, with this singular advantage, of its being bound up in 
 one holy sentiment of mutual love and affection. 
 
 This charm is it which gives the whole vitality to home — this 
 mingling of the temperaments of youth, and manhood, and deep age, 
 blending hopes of the future Avith memories of the past, and making 
 of every heart a portion of one human biography, in whicli 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 com- 
 pany ; the dark-wainscoted dining-room, with its noble fireplace of 
 gigantic dimensions, looked the very scene where hospitable con- 
 viviality 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 ? AVliat words of glad welcome echo through this 
 vaulted hall — wliat happy daughter sings through these gilded cham- 
 bers — where is the social pleasantry that circles the blazing fire of 
 the ample hearth ? Alas ! all was sombre, splendid, and dreary. No, 
 we are wrong ! — not all ! There was one corner of this great house 
 where cheerfulness was the very type of comfort. It was a small, 
 and not lofty room, whose two windows projected beyond the walls, 
 giving a wide view over tlie 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 — aU 
 with arms and deep cushions ; the walnut table a perfect mirror of 
 polish ; the cloth curtains, that closed tlie windows and concealed the 
 door, massive and heavy-folded, — all breathed of snugness ; while 
 the screen tliat surrounded the fire had other perfections than those 
 of comfortable seclusion, containing a most strange collectioia 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 harmonising 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.
 
 120 THE MAETINS OF CRO JIAETIX. 
 
 Far from devoid of social qualities, or a liking for companionship, 
 slie 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 liad thus obtained a reputation for unsociability which she by 
 no means deserved, but to which, it must be owned, she was totally 
 indifterent. In fact, if they deemed her morose and disagreeable ; 
 she, in turn, held them still more cheaply, calling them a set of lazy 
 devils that "were only in each other's "way," and " half of them not 
 worth their salt." 
 
 Catty had also survived her generation ; all her friends of former 
 vears had either died or emigrated, and except two or three of the 
 farm-servants, none of the " ould stock," as she called them, were in 
 existence. This brief explanation will show that Catty's comparative 
 isolation was not entirely a matter of choice. If a sense of loneliness 
 did now and then cross her mind, she never suffered it to dwell there, 
 but chased away the unpleasant thought by some active duty ; or if 
 the season of that were over, by the amusing columns of the Intelli- 
 gence — a journal which realised to IVIrs. 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 disre- 
 putable 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 farm- 
 ing stock at fairs and markets. "What Mr. Hynes got for his " top 
 lot" of hoggets, and what Tom Healey paid for the " finest heifers ever 
 seen on the Fair-green." These, and the accidents — a deeply in- 
 teresting column — were her peculiar tastes, and her memory was 
 stored with every casualty, by sea, fire, and violence, that had graced 
 tlie Intelligence for forty years back ; in truth, they formed the 
 stations of her chronology, and she would refer to events as having 
 ■occurred the same year that Joe Eyan was hanged, or " the very 
 Cliristmas that Ilogan fired at Captain Crossley." An inundation 
 of great extent also figured in these memorabilia, and was constantly 
 referred to, by her saying, " This or that happened the year after the 
 Flood," suggesting a rather startling impression as to her longevity. 
 
 On the evening we now refer to, the newspaper was more than com- 
 monly adorned with these incidents. Public news having failed, private 
 calamities were invoked to supply the place. Catty was, therefore, 
 lorLunato. There was Bomething, too, not altogether unpleasant in
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN'. 121 
 
 the ■n-histliug storm that raged without, and the heavy plashing of 
 the rain as it beat upon the window-panes. Without imputing to her, 
 as would be most unjust, the slightest touch of ill-nature, she felt a 
 heightened sense of her own snugness as she drew closer to the bright 
 hearth, while she read of "a dreadful gale in the Bay of Biscay." 
 
 It was just in the most exciting portion of the description that her 
 door was rudely opened, and tlie 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 liat, 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, wliat with one thing and another, it was pitch dark 
 when I reached the ' Is ew Cut,' and then, to my annoyance, I found 
 the bridge had just been carried away — there. Catty, now for a pair 
 of your own comfortable slippers — and, as I was saying to you, there 
 was no bridge!" 
 
 "The bridge gone!" exclaimed Catty, in horror. 
 
 " All Tom Ilealey's fault. I told him that the arch had not span 
 enougli, and tliat 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 tlie Low Meadows, Catty, with all speed. I knew that 
 the river, not being confined there between narrow banks, and spread- 
 ing over a wide surface, couldn't be very deep. iS'or was it. It never 
 touched the girths but once, when we got into a hole ! But she is 
 such a rare good beast, that little Sorrel ; she dashed through every- 
 thing, and I don't think I took forty minutes from Kane's Mill to 
 this door, tliough I never saw a spot of the road all the while, except 
 when the lightning showed it. There now, like a good old dear, don't
 
 122 THE MAETDTS OF CRO' MAETIIT. 
 
 wrinj? vour hands and say, ' Blessed liour !' but just put some more 
 tea in the teapot, and fetch me your brown loaf!" 
 
 " But surely you'll die of cold ! — you'll be in a fever !" 
 
 " Nonsense, Catty; I have been out in rain before this. I'm more 
 provoked about that bridge than all else. My excellent Aunt will 
 have such a laugh at my engineering skill, when she hears of it. 
 Can't bo helped, however. And so there's a dinner-party up stairs, 
 I hear. Fanny told me there were three strangers." 
 
 " So I hear. There's a lawyer from Dublin ; and a lady from I 
 don't know where ; and Young JSTelligan, old Dan's son. I'm sure I 
 never tliought I'd see the day he'd be eating his dinner at Cro' 
 Martin." 
 
 " And why not. Catty ? AVhat is there in his manners and con- 
 duct 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 snuff and sugar, in a snug 
 shop. Aj'eh ! he's an old Niggar, the same Dan. I know him well." 
 
 " But tliat 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 angiy with your ould Catty, any- 
 way. 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. How did she arrive, and when ?" 
 
 " I know nothing of her. Peter came to say that the blue bed- 
 room was wanting to-night, and he "wished to tor-ment me into 
 asking who for ? — but I wouldn't, just for that same ; and so I gave 
 him the keys without a word." 
 
 " I wonder if this note, tliat 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 himdred and seventy-sir, and I presume
 
 THE MAETLffS OF CEO' MARTHT. 123 
 
 she's correct in tlie score. Only think, Catty — four liimdrecl little 
 epistles like this !" 
 
 And ^vith these words she carelessly unfolded the letter and began 
 to read it. All her indifference of manner, however, soon gave way 
 to an expression of considerable eagerness, and she had no sooner 
 finished the epistle than she recommenced and 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. 
 
 "3Iaybe 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 liint on the subject." 
 
 " Not one in the world," said Catty, solemnly ; " I pledge you my 
 word and faith I never heard a syllable about it." 
 
 "About it! about what?" 
 
 " About what's in the letter there," said Catty, stoutly. 
 
 "You are therefore quite certain that you know it," said Mary, 
 smiling, "so now let's have your interpretation." 
 
 "It's a proposial," said Catty, with a slight wink. 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 "A proposial — of marriage, I mean." 
 
 But before the words were out, Mary burst into a fit of laughter, 
 so hearty, and with such good-will, that poor Catty felt perfectly 
 ashamed of herself. 
 
 " My dear Catty," said she, at length, " you must have been read- 
 ing Fairy Tales this morning ; nothing short of such bright literature 
 could have filled your mind with these imaginings. The object of the 
 note is, I assure you, of a quite different kind ;" and here she ran her 
 eye once more over the epistle. " Yes," continued she, " it is written 
 in my dear Aunt's own peculiar style, and begins with a ' declara- 
 tory clause,' as I think Mr. Scanlan would call it, expressive of my 
 lamentably neglected education, and then proceeds to the appropriate 
 remedy, by telling me that I am to have a Governess !" 
 
 "A what !" cried Catty, in angry amazement. 
 
 "A Governess, Catty — not a governor, as you suspected." 
 
 " Ayeh, ayehl" cried the old woman, ringing her hands ; " wliat's 
 this for ? Don't you know how^ to govern yourself by this time ? 
 And what can they teacli you that you don't understand already ?" 
 
 "Ah, my dear Catty," said the young girl, sadly, " it is a sad sub- 
 ject you would open there, — one that I have wept over many a dreary
 
 124 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAETIIT. 
 
 hour ! No one knows— no one even could guess — how deeply I have 
 deplored niy illiterate condition. Nor was it," added she, ardently, 
 " till I had fashioned out a kind of existence of my own— active, 
 useful, and energetic— that I could bury the thought of my utter 
 want of education. Not even you, Catty, could fathom all the tears 
 this theme has cost me, nor with what a sinking of the heart I have 
 thought over my actual unfitness for my station." 
 
 " Arrah, don't provoke me! don't drive me mad!" cried the old 
 woman in real auger. " 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 inter- 
 rupt her, and for several minutes not a word was spoken on either 
 side. At last, Mary raised her head, and throwing back the long, 
 loose hair, which in heavy masses shaded her face, said with a firm 
 and resolute voice : 
 
 " I'd have courage to go to school to-morrow, Catty, and begin as 
 a mere child to learn, if I knew that another was ready to take my 
 place here. But who is to look after these poor people, who are 
 accustomed now to see me amongst them, on the mountains, in the 
 fields, at their firesides ? — who gain new spirit for 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, indignantly; "the 
 smooth-tongued old rogue !" 
 
 " And perhaps he might, in England," resumed Mary; "but not 
 here. Catty — not here ! "We care less for benefits than the source 
 from which they spring. We Irish cherish the love of motives as 
 well as actions ; and, above all, we cherish the links that bind the 
 lowliest in the laud 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 :
 
 THE MABTINS OF CEO MABTIN. 125 
 
 " Besides, Catty, they are used to me, and I to them. A new face 
 and a new voice would not bring tlie same comfort to tliem." 
 
 " Never, never," muttered the old woman to herself. 
 
 " And I'll not desert them." 
 
 " That you won't, darling," said the old woman, kissing her hand 
 passionately, while tears swam in her eyes, and trickled down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " There is but one thought, Catty, that makes me at all faint- 
 hearted about this, and whenever it crosses me I do feel very low 
 and depressed." She paused, and then murmured the words, " My 
 father !" 
 
 " Tour father, my darling ! What about him ?" 
 
 " It is thinking. Catty, of his return ; an event that ought to be — 
 and would be, too — the very happiest of my life ; a day, for whose 
 coming I never sleep without a prayer ; and yet, even this bright 
 prospect has its dark side, when I recal all my own deficiencies, 
 and how different he will find his daughter from what he had 
 expected her." 
 
 " May the blessed Saints grant me patience !" cried Catty, break- 
 ing in. " Isn't it too bad to hear you talking this way ? Sure, 
 don't I know Master Barry well ? Didn't I nurse him ; and wasn't 
 I all aa 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 diiferent indeed he might have 
 imagined his daughter. I'm sure nobody can be more ignorant than 
 I am, of what a person in my station ought to know. I cannot hide 
 this from myself in my sad moments. I do not try to do so, but I 
 have always relied upon the consolation that, to an existence such as 
 mine is like to be, tliese deficiencies do not bring the same sense of 
 shame, the same painful consciousness of inferiority, as if I were to 
 mingle with the world of my equals. But if he were to come back — 
 lie, 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 li^now- 
 ledge — oh, Catty, dearest, what a miserable tiling 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
 
 126 THE MABTIKS 01" CEO' MAETIlf. 
 
 liim like luc ; and if tliere was ever one made for him to dote on, it's 
 your own self." 
 
 "Do you indeed think so ?" cried Mary, eagerly. 
 
 " Do I know it — could I swear it ?" saidj Catty. *' He was never 
 mucli given to study himself, except it was books of travel like 
 ' Eobiuson Crusoe,' and the like ; and then, after reading one of them 
 books he'd be ofi'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 Letter- 
 mullen 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 Avhen 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 listen- 
 ing, 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 imconsciously. 
 
 Mary was attracted by the unwonted solemnity of her accent, but 
 still more by an expression of intense meaning which gathered over
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAHTIN. 127 
 
 tlie old woman's brows and forehead. ''Ay, ay," muttered slie still 
 to herself, " there's few brothers would do it. Maybe there's not 
 another Kving but himself would have done it." 
 
 "And what was it, Catty ?" asked Mary, boldly. 
 
 " Eh! — what was I saying, darling?" said Catty, rousing herself 
 to full consciousness. 
 
 " Tou were telling of my father, and some great proof of affection 
 he gave my Uncle." 
 
 " To be sure he did," said the old woman, hastily. "They were 
 always fond of each other, as brothers ought to be." 
 
 " But this one particular instance of love — what was it, Catty ?" 
 
 The old woman started, and looked eagerly around the room, as 
 though to assure herself that they were alone ; then, drawing her 
 chair close to Mary's, she said, in a low voice, " Don't ask me any 
 more about them things, darling. '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 mournfidly. 
 
 " 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 w?e." 
 
 " JN'or 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 aroae, 
 and, although evidently trying to overcome it, a feeling of constraint 
 was marked in her features. 
 
 " You'd never guess how late it is, Catty," said she, trying to 
 change the current of her thoughts. " Tou'd not believe it is past 
 three^o'clock ; how pleasantly we must have talked, to forget time in 
 this way." 
 
 But the old woman made no reply, and it was clear that she had 
 never heard the words, so deeply was she sunk in her own reflections. 
 
 " This poor hat of mine will scarcely do another day's service," 
 said Mary, as she looked at it half laughingly, " Nor is my habit 
 the fresher of its bath in the ' Eed Kivcr ;' 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 
 mo and my calamities this evening," added she, gaily, " and so I'll 
 just go to bed and, if I can, dream pleasantly." 
 
 " Eags, indeed," said Catty. "It's well it becomes you to wear 
 rags !" and her eyes sparkled witli indignant passion. " Eaith, if it
 
 128 TnE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 comes to that" — here she suddenly paused, and a palo hue spread 
 over her features like a qualm of faiutish sickness — " may the Holy 
 Mother give me help and advice, for sometimes I'm nigh forgetting 
 myself!" , 
 
 " My dear old Catty," said Mary, fondly, " don't fret about me 
 and my foolish speech. I only said it in jest. I have everything — 
 far more than I want — a thousand times more than I desire. And 
 my excellent Aunt never said a truer thing in her life, than when 
 she declared that ' everybody spoilt me.' Now, good night." And 
 kissing the old woman affectionately, Mary gathered up the stray 
 fragments of her riding gear, and hurried away, her merry voice 
 heard cheerfully as she wended her way up many a stair and gallery 
 to her own chamber. 
 
 If Mary Martin's character had any one quality pre-eminently 
 remarkable, it was the absence of everything like distrust and suspi- 
 cion. Frankness and candour itself in all her dealings, she never 
 condescended to impute secret motives to another ; and the very 
 thought of anything 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 concerned in it ; so much was 
 clear. How could she convince the old woman that no revelation, 
 however disagreeable in itself, could be as torturing as a doubt? 
 " Can there be anything in my position or circumstances here that 
 I am not aware of? Is there a mystery about me in any way?" 
 The very imagination of such a thing was agony. In vain she tried 
 to chase away the unwelcome thought, by singing as she went, by 
 thinking over plans for the morrow, by noting down, as she did each 
 night, some stray records of the past day ; still Catty's agitated face 
 and strange emotion rose before her, and would not sufier her to be 
 at rest. 
 
 To a day of great excitement and fatigue now succeeded a sleepless, 
 feverish night, and morning broke on her imrefreshed, and even iU.
 
 THE MAETINS Or CEO' MARTIN. 129 
 
 CHAPTER Xiy. 
 
 A FINE OLD IRISH BARKISTER. 
 
 Can any one tell iis what has become of that high conversational 
 power for which Ireland, but more especially Dublin, was once cele- 
 brated ? 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 dulness, the fit 
 repose, perhaps, after a period of such excitement ? The altered 
 circumstances of the country will doubtless account for much of this 
 change. The presence of a Parliament in Ireland imparted a dignity 
 and importance to society, while it secured to social intercoui'se the 
 men who made that Senate illustrious. The Bar, too, of former days 
 was essentially the career of the highest class, of those who had the 
 ambition of political success, without the necessity of toiling for it 
 through the laborious paths of the law, and thus the wit, the brilliancy, 
 and the readiness which gives conversation its charm, obtained the 
 high culture which comes of a learned profession, and the social in- 
 tercourse with men of refined understanding. 
 
 "With the Union this spirit died out. Some of the brightest and 
 gayest retired from the world, sad, dispirited, and depressed ; some 
 felt that a new and very difterent career Avas to open before them , 
 and addressed themselves to the task of conforming to new habits 
 and acquiring new influences ; and others, again, sought in the richer 
 and greater country the rewards which they once were satisfied to 
 reaj) in their own. With the Union, Society, in Dublin — using the 
 word in its really comprehensive sense — ceased to exist. The great 
 interests of a nation departed, men sank to the level of the small 
 topics that engaged them, and gradually the smallest and narrowest 
 views of mere local matters usurped the place of great events and 
 liberal speculations. Towards tlie end of the first quarter of the 
 present century, a few of those who had once made companionship 
 with Curran, and Grattan, and Lysaght, and Parsons, were still in 
 good health and vigour. A fine, high-hearted, manly class they were, 
 fuU of that peciiliar generosity of character which has ever marked 
 the true Irish gentleman, and with a readiness in humour and a 
 genial flow of pleasantry which rendered their society delightful. 
 
 Of this school — and probably the last, for he was then the
 
 130 THE MAKTINS OF CBO' MARTIN. 
 
 Father of tlie Bar — was Yaleutiuc Eepton, a mau whose abilities 
 might have won for him the very highest distinctions, but who, partly 
 through indolence, and partly tlirough a sturdy desire to be inde- 
 pendent of all party, had all his life rejected every offer of advance- 
 ment, and had seen his juniors pass on to the highest ranks of the 
 profession, while he still wore his stuff-gown, and rose to address the 
 Court from the outer benches. 
 
 He was reported in early life to have professed very democratic 
 opinions, for which he more than once had incurred the deep dis- 
 pleasure of the authorities of the TJniversity. The principles of the 
 French Kevolution had, however, been gradually toned down in him 
 by time, and probably by a very aristocratic contempt for the party 
 who advocated them ; so that soon after he entered on his career at 
 the Bar he seemed to have abandoned politics, nor, except by a sly 
 jest or an epigram upon a party leader, no matter of which side, 
 did he ever advert to the contests of statecraft. 
 
 Though closely approaching seventy, he was hale and vigorous, his 
 grey eyes quick and full of fire, his voice cleai', and his whole air 
 and bearing that of one many years younger. He had been a "Beau" 
 in his youth, and there was in the accurately-powdered hair, the 
 lace ruffles in which he still appeared at dinner, and the well-fitting 
 silk stocking, an evidence that he had not forgotten the attractions 
 of dress. At the Bar he still maintained the very highest place. 
 His powers of cross-examination were very great ; his management 
 of a Jury unrivalled. A lifelong acquaintance with Dublin had 
 familiarised 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
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAETITT. 131 
 
 least, were in wonderment at liis endless stores of anecdote and illus- 
 tration. No man better tlian 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 Tinuehinch, when "^ 
 
 "As Flood once remarked to me " and so on. 
 
 The flattery of being addressed by one who had stood in such inti- 
 mate relation to those illustrious men never failed of success. The 
 most thoughtless and giddy hearers were at once arrested by sucb 
 an opening, and Eepton was sure of listeners in every company. 
 
 The man who finds his place in every society is unquestionably a 
 clever man. The aptitude to chime in with the tone of others infers 
 a high order of humour — of humour in its real sense — meaning 
 thereby the faculty of appreciating, and even cultivating, the indi- 
 vidual peculiarities of those around him, and deriving from their dis- 
 play a high order of pleasure. 
 
 Prom these scattered traits let my reader conjure up Valentine 
 Eepton before him, and imagine the bustling, active, and brisk- 
 looking old gentleman, whose fidgetiness nearly drove Martin mad, 
 as they held converse together in the Library after breakfast. Now 
 seated, now, rising to ^Jace the room, or drawing nigh the window to 
 curse the peltering rain without, Eepton seemed the incarnation of 
 uneasiness. 
 
 "Very splendid — very grand — verj" sumptuous — no doubt," said 
 he, ranging his eyes over the gorgeous decorations of the spacious 
 apartment, " but would kill me in a month ; what am I saying ? — in a 
 week !" 
 
 " "What would kill you, Eepton ?" said Martin, languidly. 
 
 " This life of yours, Martin — this sombre quiet — this unbroken 
 stillness — this grave-like monotony. Why, man, where's your neigh- 
 bourhood — where are your gentry friends ?" 
 
 " Cosby Blake, of Swainestown, is abroad," said Martin, with an 
 indolent drawl. " Eandal Burke seldom comes down here now. 
 Eickman, 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 often 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 ! its nigli incredible," said the Lawyer, energetically. 
 " My dear Martin, can't you perceive that all this is sheer waste — ' 
 
 k2 .
 
 132 THE MARTIT^S OF CKO MAKTIN. 
 
 SO much good money actually thrown into Lougli Corrib ? Tell me, 
 frankly, how long have you been pursuing this system of improve- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " About three years ; under Mary's management." 
 
 " And the results— what of them ?" 
 
 "It is too early to speak of that ; there's Kyle's Wood, for instance 
 — we have enclosed that at considerable cost. Of course we can't 
 expect that the mere thinnings can repay us, the first year or two." 
 
 " And your reclaimed land — how has it prospered ?" 
 
 " Not over well. They pushed draining so far, that they've left a 
 large tract perfectly barren and unproductive." 
 
 "And the harbour — the pier I saw yesterday?" 
 
 "That's a bad business — its 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 impos- 
 sibility ! They both know each other too well. Do you understand 
 me ? They are too ready to make allowances for short-comings that 
 have their source in some national prejudice. Whereas your Saxon 
 or your Scotchman would scout such a plea at once. Ireland wants an 
 alterative, Martin — an alterative ; and, amidst our other anomalies, 
 not the least singular is the fact, that the Englishman, who knows 
 nothing abo\it vis, nor ever will know anything, is precisely the man 
 to better our condition." 
 
 " These are strange opinions to hear from your lips, Eepton. I 
 never heard any man so sarcastic as yourself on English ignorance 
 regarding Ireland." 
 
 " And you may hear me again on the same theme whenever you 
 vouchsafe me an audience," said the Lawyer, sharply. " It was^but 
 the other day I gave our newly-arrived Secretary, ]Mr. Muspratt, a 
 gentle intimation of my sentiments on that score. We were dining 
 at the Lodge. I sat next his Excellency, who, in the course of dinner, 
 directed my attention to a very graphic picture the Secretary was 
 drawing of the misery he had witnessed that very day, coming up 
 from Carlow. lie 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 Eaft'aelle effect to his sketch, as he por-
 
 THE MAETIKS OF CEO' MAETIIS". 133 
 
 trayed the halt, the maimed, the blind, and the palsied that crowded 
 around the carriage as he changed horses, exclaiming, by way of 
 peroration, ' Misery and destitution lilce this no man ever witnessed 
 before, all real and unfeigned as it was sure to be.' 
 
 " ' Naas is a miserable place, indeed,' said I, for he looked 
 directly towards me for a confirmation of his narrative. ' There is 
 no denying one word the gentleman has said. I came up that way 
 from circuit three weeks ago, and was beset in the same spot, and in 
 the same manner as we have just heard. I can't attempt such a 
 description as Mr. Muspratt has given us, but I will say, that there 
 was not a human deformity or defect tliat 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 wonderment, and at last I threw 
 out a " tenpemiy" in the midst. The " blind" fellow saw it first, but 
 the "lame cripple" had tlie foot of him, and got the money!' " 
 
 Repton leaned back in his chair, and laughed heartily as he 
 finished. " I only wish you saw his face, Martin ; and, indeed, his 
 Excellency's too. The Aides-de-Camp laughed ; they were very young, 
 and couldn't help it." 
 
 " He'll not make you a Chief Justice, Ilepton," said Martin, slily. 
 
 "I'll take care he don't," said the other. " Suvimum jus summa 
 injuria. The Chief Justice is a great humbug, or a great abuse, 
 whichever way you like to render it." 
 
 "And yet they'd be glad to promote you," said Martin, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " To be sure they would. Sir ; delighted to place me where they had 
 no fear of my indiscretions. But your Judge shoidd be ever a grave 
 animal. The temptation to a joke should never sit on the ermine. 
 As Flood once remarked to me of old Eomney : ' A man. Sir,' said 
 he — and Flood had a semi-sarcastic solemnit^^ 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 ! I\Iartin, they don't say these things now-a-days. 
 By the way, who is the young fellow who dined with us yesterday r" 
 
 "His name is Nelligan; the son of one of our Oughterard 
 neighbours." 
 
 " Pleasing manners, gentle, too, and observant," said Repton, with 
 the tone of one delivering a judgment to be recorded. 
 
 " He's more than that," said Martin; " he is the great prize man 
 of the year in Trinity. You must have surely heard of his name up 
 in town." 
 
 " I think somebody did speak of him to me — recommend him, in
 
 13-1 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 some shape or other," said Eeptou, abstractedly — "these things 
 are so easily forgotten ; for, to say the truth, I hold] very cheaply 
 all intellectual eftbrts accomplished by great preparation. The 
 cramming, the grinding, the plodding, the artificial memory work, 
 and the rest of it, detract terribly, in my estimation, from the glory 
 of success. Give me your man of impromptu readiness, never un- 
 prepared, never at a loss. The very consciousness of power is double 
 power." And as he spoke he drew himself up, threw his head back, 
 and stared steadfastly at Martin, as though to say : " Such is he who 
 now stands before you." 
 
 Martin was amused at the display of vanity, and had there been 
 another there to have participated in the enjoyment, would have 
 willingly encouraged him to continue the theme ; but he was alone, 
 and let it pass. 
 
 " I'll make a note of that young man. Mulligan, isn't it ?" 
 
 " Nelligan." 
 
 *'■ To be sure. I'll remember poor Curran's epigram : 
 
 Oh, pity poor Tom Nelligan ! 
 Who walking down Pall Mall, 
 He slipt his foot, 
 And down lie 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, Eepton," said he, "you wished to see the Quarries, I 
 think?" 
 
 " To see everything and everybody, Sir, and with my own eyes, too. 
 As Lysaght said, when I read the Book of Nature, ' I let no man note 
 my brief for me.' " 
 
 "I thought of being your companion, myself; but somehow, this 
 morning, my old enemy, the gout, is busy again ; however, you'll not 
 regret the exchange, Eepton, when I give you in charge to my niece. 
 She'll be 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 every- 
 thing," said Eepton, laughing. " Well, I consent. I offer myself a
 
 THE MAllTINS OF CHO' MAETIN. 135 
 
 willing victim to any amount of seduction. How are we to go ? — do 
 we drive, walk, or ride ?" 
 
 "If Mary be consulted, slie'll say ride," said Martin; "but per- 
 haps " 
 
 " I'm for tlie saddle, too," broke in Eepton. " Give me something 
 active and lively, liglit 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, tlien," said Martin, hastening out 
 of the room, to conceal the smile which the old man's vanity had just 
 provoked. 
 
 Mary was dressed in her riding-habit, and about to leave her room 
 as her uncle entered it. 
 
 " I have just come in the nick of time, Molly, I see," cried he. " I 
 want you to lionise an old friend of mine, who has the ambition to ' do' 
 Conuemara 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 
 Kildufl"; 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. Eeally, this old gentleman must 
 wait." It was a rare thing for Mary Martin to display anything 
 either of impatience or opposition to lier uncle. Her affection for 
 him was so blended with respect, that she scarcely ever transgressed 
 in this wise ; but this morning she was ill and irritable — a restless, 
 feverish night following on a day of great fatigue and as great excite- 
 ment — and she was still sufi"eriug, and her nerves jarring when he 
 met her. 
 
 " But I assure you, Molly, you'll be pleased with the companion- 
 ship," began Martin. 
 
 " So I might at another time ; but I'm out of sorts to-day. Uncle. 
 I'm cross and ill-tempered, and I'll have it out on Mr. Henderson — 
 that precious specimen of his class. Let Mr. Xelligan perform 
 Cicerone, or persuade my Lady to drive him out ; — do anything you 
 like with him, except give him to me.^' 
 
 "And yet that is exactly what I have promised him. As for 
 Nelligau, they are not suited to each other; so, come, be a good girl, 
 and comply." 
 
 "If I must," said she, pettishly "And how are we to go?" 
 
 " He proposes to ride, and bespeaks something lively for his own 
 mount." 
 
 "Indeed! That sounds well!" cried she, with more animation.
 
 13G THE MARTINS OF CEO' MA11TI>'. 
 
 " Thcre'3 ' Cropper' in great liearfc ; he'll carry liini 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. Eemember 
 that Eepton 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 sonnd." And so saying, Mary bounded 
 away down the stairs and away to the stables, forgetting everything 
 of her late discontent, aud only eager on the plan before her. 
 
 Martin was very far from satisfied about the arrangement for his 
 friend's equitation ; nor did the aspect of Eepton himself, as attired 
 for the road, allay that sense of alarm — the old lawyer's costume 
 being a correct copy of the coloured prints of those worthies wlio 
 figured in the early years of George the Tliird's reign — a grey cloth 
 spencer being drawn over his coat, fur-collared and cuffed, high 
 riding-boots of black polished leather, reaching above the knee, aud 
 large gauntlets of bright-yellow doeskin, completing an equipment 
 which Martin had seen nothing resembling for forty years back. 
 
 "A perfect cavalier, Eepton!" exclaimed he, smiling. 
 
 " We once could do a little that way," said the other, with a touch 
 of vanity. " In our early days, Martin, hunting was essentially a 
 gentleman's pastime. The meet was not disfigured by aspiring linen- 
 drapers or ambitious hardwaremen, and the tone of the field was the 
 tone of society ; but, nous avons change tout cela. Sporting men, 
 as they call themselves, have descended to the groom vocabulary, and 
 the grooni morals, and we, of the old school, should only be laughed 
 at for the pedantry of good manners, and good English, did we ven- 
 ture amongst them." 
 
 " My niece will put a different estimate on your companionship ; 
 and here she comes. Molly, my old and valued friend, Mr. Eepton." 
 
 " I kiss your hand, Miss Martin," said he, accompanying the 
 speech by the act, with all the grace of a courtier. " It's worth 
 while being an old fellow, to be able to claim these antiquated 
 privileges." 
 
 There was something in the jaunty air and well-assumed gallantry 
 of the old lawyer which at once pleased Mary, who accepted his 
 courtesy with a gracious smile. She had been picturing to herself 
 a very different kind of companion, and was well satisfied with the 
 reality. 
 
 " I proposed to young Mr. Nelligan to join us," said Eepton, as he 
 conducted her to the door ; " but it seems he is too deeply intent
 
 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' MAHTIN. 137 
 
 upon some question, or point of Law, or history, I forget wliicli, 
 whereupon we diftered last night, and has gone into the library to 
 search for the solution of it. As for me, Miss Martin, I am too 
 young for such dry 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 companionship. 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 totally new to her. Nor was he less charmed with her. 
 Independently of all the pleasiu*e it gave him to find one who heard 
 him with such true enjoyment, and relished all his varied powers of 
 amusing, he was equally struck with the high-spirited enthusiasm 
 and generous ardour of the joung 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 hopefidness than he himself could feel, the san- 
 guine forecast but lent another charm to her fascination. 
 
 He listened with astonishment as she explained to him the different 
 works then in progress — the vast plans for drainage — the great en- 
 closures for planting — the roads projected, here, the bridges, there. 
 At one place were strings of carts, conveying limestone for admixture 
 with the colder soil of low grounds ; at another they met asses, loaded 
 with seaweed for the potato land. There was movement and occu- 
 pation on every side. In the deep valleys, on the mountains, in the 
 clefts of the rocky shore, in tlie dark mai'ble 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 Avas sufficient to show that theirs was no counterfeit joy. 
 Wherever she went tlic same reception awaited her ; nor did she try 
 to conceal the happiness it conferred. 
 
 " This is very wonderful, very strange, and very fascinating. Miss 
 Martin," said Eepton, as they moved slowly through a rocky path, 
 escarped from the side of the mountain ; "but, pardon me, if I ven- 
 ture to suggest one gloomy anticipation in the midst of such bright- 
 ness. "What is to become of all these people when jjou leave them — 
 as leave them you will, and must, one day ?" 
 
 "I never mean to do so," said Mary, resolutely. 
 
 "Stoutly spoken," said ho, smiling; "but, imfortunately, he who 
 hears it could be your grandfather. And again I ask, liow is this 
 good despotism to be carried on when the despot abdicates ? xS^ny,
 
 138 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIK. 
 
 uay ; there never was a very beautiful girl yet, with every charm 
 under lieaven, who didn't swear she'd never maiTy ; so let U3 take 
 another alternative. Tour vmcle may go to live in London — abroad. 
 He may sell Cro' Martin " 
 
 " Oh ! tliat 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, unimpidsive, and ungenerously-disposed of all na- 
 tures, an old lawyer, who has witnessed so many events in life he 
 would have once pronounced impossible — ay, just as roundly as you 
 said the word yourself — and seen people, and tilings, under aspects 
 so totally the reverse of what he first knew them, that he has taught 
 himself to believe that change is the law, and not permanence, in this 
 life, and that you, and I, and all of us, ought ever to look forward 
 to anything, everything, but the condition in which at present we 
 find ourselves. Now, I don't want to discourage you with the noble 
 career you have opened for yourself here ; I am far more likely to be 
 fascinated — I was going to say fall in love — with you for it, than to 
 try and turn your thoughts elsewhere ; but as to these people them- 
 selves, the experiment comes too late." 
 
 " Is it ever too late to repair a wrong, to assist destitution, relieve 
 misery, and console misfortune ?" broke in Mary, eagerly. 
 
 " It is too late to try the feudal system in the year of our Lord 
 1829, Miss Martin. "We live in an age where everything is to be re- 
 dressed by a Parliament. The old social compact between Proprietor 
 and Peasant is repealed, and all must be done by "the House." 
 Now, if your grandfather had pursued the path that you are doing 
 to-day, this crisis might never have arrived ; but he did not, young 
 lady. He lived like a real gentleman ; he hunted, and drank, and 
 feasted, and rack-rented, and horsewhipped all around him ; and 
 what with duelling of a morning and drinking over-night, taught the 
 people a code of morals that has assumed all the compactness of a 
 system. Ay, I say it with grief, this is a land corrupted from the 
 top, and every vice of its gentry has but filtered down to its popu- 
 lace ! AVhat was that I lieard ?— 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
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 139 
 
 partridges. Tour lounging country fellow, witli a rusty gun and a 
 starved lurclier, is but an embryo highwayman." 
 
 " So he is," cried Eepton, delighted at the energy with which she 
 spoke ; " and I have always thought that the worst thing about the 
 game-laws was the class of fellows we educated to break them. Poor 
 old Cranbuiy wasn't of that opinion, though. You could never have 
 seen him, Miss Martin ; but he was a fine specimen of the Irish 
 Bench in the old time. He was the readiest pistol in the Irish house ; 
 and, as they said then, he " shot up" into preferment. He always 
 deemed an infraction of the game-laws as one of the gravest crimes in 
 the statute. Juries, however, didn't concur with him, and, knowing 
 the severity of the penalty, they invariably brought in a verdict of 
 Not Gruilty, rather than subject a poor wretch to transportation for a 
 jack-snipe. I remember once — it was at Maryborough : the fellow in 
 the dock was a notable poacher, and, worse still, the scene of his ex- 
 ploits was Cranbury's own estate. As usual, the jury listened apatheti- 
 cally to the evidence ; they cared little for the case, and had predeter- 
 mined the verdict. It was, however, so palpably proven, so self-evident 
 that he was guilty, that they clubbed their heads together to concert 
 a pretext for their decision. Cranbury saw the movement, and 
 appreciated it, and, leaning his head down upon his hand, mumbled 
 out, as if talking to himself, in broken sentences, ' A poor man — with 
 a large family — great temptation — and, after all, a slight offence — a 
 very slight offence.' The jury listened and took courage; they 
 fancied some scruples were at work in the old judge's heart, and that 
 they might venture on the truth, innocuously. ' Guilt}-, my Lord,' 
 said the Eoreman. ' Transportation for seven years !' cried the 
 Judge, with a look at the jury-box that there was no mistaking. They 
 were ' done,' but there never was another conviction in that town 
 afterwards." 
 
 "And were such things possible on the justice-seat ?" exclaimed 
 Mary, in hoiTor. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear young lady, I could tell you of far worse than that. 
 There was a time in this country when the indictment against the 
 prisoner was secondary in importance to his general character, his 
 party, his connexions, and fift}^ other things, which had no bearing 
 upon criminality. There goes another shot ! I'll swear to that," 
 cried he, pulling up short and looking in the direction from which the 
 report proceeded. 
 
 Mary turned at the same moment, and pointed with her whip to- 
 wards a beech wood that skirted the foot of the mountain. . 
 
 "Was it from that quarter the sound came ?" said she.
 
 140 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 The sharp crack of a fowling-piece, quickly followed by a second 
 report, now decided the question ; and, as if by mutual consent, they 
 both wheeled their horses round, and set off at a brisk canter towards 
 the wood. 
 
 "I have taken especial pains about preserving this part of the 
 estate," said Marj, as they rode along. "It was my cousin Harry's 
 favourite cover wlien 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 hez-e ?" 
 
 " 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 
 neighbours to ask for leave, and the Oughterard folks would not ven- 
 ture on that liberty, I may safely say that the report of a gun is a 
 rare event in these solitudes." 
 
 " Whoever he be, yonder, is not losing time," said Eepton ; — " there 
 was another shot." 
 
 Their pace had now become a smart half-gallop, Mary, a little in 
 advance, leading the way, and pointing out the safe ground to her 
 companion. As they drew nigh tlie wood, however, she slackened 
 speed till he came up, and then said : 
 
 " As I know everybody hereabouts, it will be enough if I only see 
 the offender, and how to do that is the question." 
 
 " I am at your orders," said Repton, raising his whip to a salute. 
 
 " It will be somewhat difficult," said Mary, pondering; " the wood 
 is so overgrown with low copse that one can't ride through it, except 
 along certain alleys. Now we might canter there for hours and see 
 nothing. I have it," cried she, suddenly, " you shall enter the wood 
 and ride slowly along the green alley, yonder, till you come to the 
 cross-road, when vou'll turn off to the left, while I will remain in ob- 
 servatiou outside here, so that if our friend make his exit I am sure 
 to overtake him. At all events, we shall meet again at the lower end 
 of the road." 
 
 " Repton made her repeat her directions, and then, touching his hat 
 in respectful salutation, rode away to fulfil his mission. A low gate, 
 merely fastened by a loop of iron without a padlock, admitted the 
 lawyer witliiu the precincts, in which he soon discovered that his pace 
 must be a walk, so heavy was tlie 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
 
 ^ ^
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETI>-. 141 
 
 [lisle, the sides of which were closed in with the wild holly and the 
 broom, and even the arbutus, all intermingled inextricably. There 
 was something solemn even to sadness in the deep solitude, and so 
 Eepton seemed to feel as he rode slowly along, alone, tinging hia 
 thoughts of her he had just quitted with melancholy. 
 
 " What a girl, and what a life !" said he, musingly. " I must tell 
 Martin that this will never do ! "What can all this devotion end in 
 but disappointment. With the first gleam of their newly-acquired 
 power the people will reject these benefits ; they will despise the 
 slow-won fruits of industry as the gambler rejects a life of toil. Then 
 will come a reaction — a terrible reaction — with all the semblance of 
 black ingratitude ! She will herself be disgusted. The breach once 
 made will grow wider and wider, and at last the demagogue will take 
 the place of the landed proprietor. Estrangement at first, next dis- 
 trust, and finally dislike, will separate the gentry from the peasantry, 
 and then 1 tremble to think of what then !" 
 
 As Eepton had uttered these words, the sharp bang of a gun 
 startled him, and at the same instant a young fellow sprang from the 
 copse in front of him into the alley. His coarse fustian shooting- 
 jacket, low-crowned oil-skin hat, and leather gaiters, seemed to be- 
 speak the professional poacher, and Eepton 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 " 
 
 " By Heaven ! I'll thrash you, you scoundrel !" said Eepton, whose 
 passion was now boiling over by a sudden bound of the cob, which 
 had nearly thrown him from the saddle — a mischance greeted by a 
 hearty burst of laughter from the stranger. 
 
 " I fancy you have quite enough to do at this moment !" cried he, 
 still laughing. 
 
 Half mad with anger, Eepton pressed his spurs to the cob's 
 flanks, while he gave him a vigorous cut of the whip on the shoulder. 
 The animal was little accustomed to such usage, and reared up 
 wildly, and would inevitably have fallen back with his rider iiad not the 
 stranger, springing forward, seized the bridle, and pulled him down 
 by main force. AVhether indiftercut to his own safety, or so blinded 
 by passion as not to recognise 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
 
 142 THE MAETIIfS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 to stancli the bleeding \vitli his handkerchief — not the slightest 
 sign of excitement being displayed by him, nor any evidence of feel- 
 ing that the event was otlicr than a mere accident, 
 
 " Let loose my bridle-rciu — let it loose, Sir," said Eepton, passion- 
 ately — more passionately, perhaps, from observing the measured calm- 
 ness of the other. 
 
 "When I know who you are, I shall," said the young man, 
 
 " My name is Valentine Eepton ; my address, if you want it, is 
 Merrion- square North, Dublin ; and can you now tell me where a 
 magistrate's warrant will reach yow.?" 
 
 " 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 Massiugbred," 
 
 " You presume to be a gentleman, then ?" said Eepton. 
 
 "I have not heard the matter disputed before," said Jack, with an 
 easy smile, while ho leisurely bound the handkerchief round his head. 
 
 " And, of course, you look for satisfaction for this ?" 
 
 "I trust that there can be no mistake upon that point, at least," 
 replied he. 
 
 " And you shall have it, too ; though, hang me, if I well know 
 whether you should not receive it at the next Assizes — but you shall 
 have it. I'll go into Oughterard this day ; I'll be there by nine 
 o'clock, at the Martin Arms." 
 
 " That will do," said Massingbred, with a coolness almost like in- 
 difference ; 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 Eepton — " that 
 this is part of the Martin estate, and strictly preserved ?" 
 
 "Indeed! and 7 thought it belonged to Magennis," said Jack, 
 easily ; " but a preserve without a gamekeeper, or even a notice, is a 
 blockade without a blockading squadron." And without a word more, 
 or any notice of the other, Massingbred shouldered his gun and 
 walked away. 
 
 It was some time before Eepton could summon resolution to leave 
 the spot, such was the conflict of thoughts that went on within him. 
 Shame and sorrow were, indeed, uppermost in his mind, but still not 
 unmingled with anger at the consummate ease and coolness of the 
 other, who by this line of conduct seemed to assume a tone of supe- 
 riority the most galling and insulting. In vain did he endeavour to 
 justify his act to himself— in vain seek to find a plausible pretext for 
 his anger. He could not, by all his ingenuity, do so, and he only 
 grew more passionate at his own failure. " Another would hand him
 
 THE MAETIKS OP CEO' MAETIN. 143 
 
 oyer to the next Justice of the Peace — ■would leave liim to Quarter 
 Sessions ; but not so Val Eepton" — " 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 dissimulatio]! of the old lawyer to conceal 
 the signs of his late adventure ; nor indeed were his replies to her 
 questions quite free fi-om a certain amount of inconsistency. Mary, 
 however, willingly changed the subject, and led him back to speak of 
 topics more agreeable and congenial to him. Still he was not the 
 same sprightly companion who had ridden beside her in the morning. 
 He conversed with a degree of eftbrt, and when sufiered, would 
 relapse into long intervals of silence. 
 
 " Who inhabits that bleak -looking house yonder ?" said he, sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "A certain Mi'. Magennis, 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 will expire in a year or two. He has already applied for a 
 renewal of it." 
 
 " And, of course, unsuccessfully ?" 
 
 " Up to this moment it is as you say, but I am 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 Oughterard, the man who sets 
 himself most strenuously in opposition to our influence in the bo- 
 rough, 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." 
 
 " IIow subtle all these dealings can make a young lady!" said 
 Eepton, slily. 
 
 " Say, rather, what a strain upon one's acuteness it is to ride out 
 with a great lawyer, one so trained to see spots in the sun, that he 
 won't acknowledge its brightness if there be a speck to search for." 
 
 " And yet it's a great mistake to suppose that we are always 
 looking on the dark side of human nature," said he, reflectively; 
 "though," added he, after a pause, " it's very often our business to 
 exaggerate baseness, and make the worst of a bad man."
 
 Ill THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 " Even that may be more pardonable than to vilify a good one," 
 said IVEary. 
 
 " So it is, young lady ; you are quite right there." He was 
 thoughtful for a Avhilc, and then said — "It is very singular, but 
 nevertheless true, that, in my profession, one loses sight of the 
 individual, as such, and only regards him as a mere element of the 
 case, plaintilf or defendant as he may be. I remember once, in a 
 southern circuit, a hale, fine-looking young fellow entering my room 
 to present me with a hare. He had walked twelve miles to offer it to 
 me. * Tour lionour doesn't remember me,' said he, sorrowfully, and 
 evidently grieved at my forgetfulness. ' To be sure I do,' replied I, 
 trying to recal his features ; ' you are — let me see — ^j'ou are — I have 
 it — ^you are Jemmy Eyau.' 
 
 " * No, Sir,' rejoined he, quickly, ' I'm the boy that murdered 
 liim !' 
 
 " Ay, Miss Martin, there's a leaf out of a lawyer's note-book, and 
 yet I could tell you more 'good traits of men and women, more of 
 patient martyrdom under wrong, more courageous suflering to do 
 right, than if I were — what shall I say ? — a chaplain to a nobleman's 
 family." 
 
 Repton's memory was well-stored Avith instances in question, and 
 he beguiled the way by relating several, till they reached Cro' Martin. 
 
 "And there is another yet," added he, at the close, " more strongly 
 illustrating what I have said than all these, but I cannot tell it to 
 you." 
 
 " "Why so ?" asked she, eagerly. 
 
 " It is a family secret. Miss Martin, and one that in all likelihood 
 you shall never know. Still, I cannot refrain from saying that you 
 have in your own family as noble a specimen of self-sacrifice and 
 denial as I ever heard of." 
 
 They were already at the door as he said this, and a troop of 
 servants had assembled to receive them. Mary, therefore, had no 
 time for further inquiry,' had such an attempt been of any avail. 
 
 " There goes the first dinner-bell, Miss Martin," said Repton, 
 gaily. " I'm resolved to be in the drawing-room before you !" And 
 with this he hopped briskly up-stairs, while Mary hastened to her 
 room to dress.
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MABTIN. 113 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 No stronger contrast could be presented than tliat offered by tlie 
 bouse which called Mr. Magennis master, to all the splendour and 
 elegance which distinguished Cro' Martin. Built on the side of a 
 bleak, barren mountain, without a trace of cultivation — not even a 
 tree beside it — the coarse stone walls, high pitched roof, and narrow 
 windows, seemed all devised in some spirit of derision towards its 
 graceful neighbour. A low wall, coped with a formidable " frize" of 
 broken bottles and crockery, enclosed a space in front once destined 
 for a garden, but left in its original state of shingle, intermixed with 
 the remnants of building materials and scaffold planks. A long shed, 
 abutting on the house, sheltered a cow and a horse ; the latter stand- 
 ing with his head above a rickety half door, and lookijig ruefully out 
 at the dismal landscape beneath him. 
 
 Most of the windows were broken — and in some no attempt at re- 
 pair had been made — indicating that the rooms within were left unused. 
 The hall-door stood ajar, but fastened by a strong iron chain ; but the 
 roof, more than all besides, bespoke decay and neglect, the rafters 
 being in many places totally bare, while in others some rude attempts 
 at tiling compensated for the want of the original slates. A strong 
 colony of jackdaws had established themselves in one of the chimneys ; 
 but from another, in the centre of the building, a thick volume of 
 dark-blue smoke rolled continually, conveying, indeed, the only sign 
 of habitation about this dreary abode. 
 
 The inside of the house was, if possible, more cheeidess than the 
 out. Most of the rooms had never been finished, and still remained 
 in their coarse brown plaster, and unprovided with grates or chimney- 
 pieces. The parlour, par excellence, was a long, low-ceilinged chamber, 
 with yellow-ochre walls, dimly liglited by two narrow windows ; its 
 furniture, a piece of ragged carpet beneath a rickety table of black 
 mahogany, some half-dozen crazy chairs, and a small sideboard, sur- 
 mounted by something that might mean buffet or bookcase, and now 
 served for both, being indifferently garnished with glasses, decanters, 
 and thumbed volumes, intermingled with salt-cellars, empty sauce- 
 bottles, and a powder-flask. 
 
 An atrociously painted picture of an officer iu scarlet uniform hun*
 
 14G THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 over tlie fireplace, surmounted by au infiintry sword, suspended by a 
 much-woru sash. These were the sole decorations of the room, to 
 whicli even the great turf fire that Wazed on the hearth could not 
 impart a look of comfort. 
 
 It was now a little after nightfall ; the shutters were closed, and 
 
 two attenuated tallow candles dimly illuminated this dreary chamber. 
 
 A patched and much-discoloured tablecloth, Avitli some coarse knives 
 
 and forks, bespoke prej^aratiou for a meal, and some half-dozen plates 
 
 stood warming before the fire. But the room had no occupant ; and, 
 
 except for the beating of the shutters against the sash, as the wind 
 
 ■whistled through the broken window, all was silent within it. Now 
 
 and then a loud noise would resound through the house ; doors would 
 
 bang, and rafters rattle, as the hall-door woidd be partially opened to 
 
 permit the head of a woman to peer out and listen if any one were 
 
 coming ; but a heavy sigh at each attempt showed that hope was still 
 
 deferred, and the weary footfall of her steps, as she retired, betrayed 
 
 disappointment. It was after one of these excursions that she sat 
 
 down beside the kitchen fire, screening her face from the blaze with 
 
 her apron, and then, in the subdued light, it might be seen that, 
 
 although bearing many traces of sorrow and sufiering, she was still 
 
 young and handsome. Large masses of the silkiest brown hair, 
 
 escaping from her cap, fell in heavy masses on her neck ; her eyes 
 
 were large and blue, and shaded by the longest lashes ; her mouth, a 
 
 little large, perhaps, was still beautifully formed, and her teeth were 
 
 of surpassing whiteness. The expression of the whole face was of 
 
 gentle simplicity and love — love in which timidity, however, deeply 
 
 entered, and made the feeling one of acute sufiering. In figure 
 
 and dress she was exactly like any other peasant girl, a gaudy 
 
 silk handkerchief on her neck being the only article of assumed 
 
 luxury in her costume. She wore shoes, it is true — not altogether 
 
 the custom of country girls — but they were heavy and coarsely made, 
 
 and imparted to her walk a hobbling motion that detracted from her 
 
 appearance. 
 
 A large pot which hung suspended by a chain above the fire 
 seemed to demand her especial care, and she more than once removed 
 the wooden cover to inspect the contents ; after which she invariably 
 approached the window to listen, and then came back sorrowfidly to 
 her place, her lips muttering some low sounds inaudibly. Once she 
 tried to hum a part of a song to try and beguile the time, but the 
 effort was a failure, and, as her voice died away, two heavy tears stole 
 slowly along her cheeks, and a deep sob burst from her ; after which 
 she threw her apron over her face, and buried her head in her lap.
 
 THE MARTII7S OP CKO' MARTIN. 147 
 
 It was as she sat thus that a loud knocking shook the outer door, and 
 the tones of a gruff voice rose even above the noise ; but she heard 
 neither. Again and again was the summons repeated, with the same 
 result ; and at last a handful of coarse gravel struck the kitchen 
 window with a crash that effectually aroused her, and, springing up 
 in terror, she hastened to the door. 
 
 In an instant she had unhooked the heavy chain, and sheltering 
 the candle with her hand, admitted a large, powerfully-built man, 
 who was scarcely within the hall, when he said, angrily, " "Where the 
 devil were you, that you couldn't hear me ?" 
 
 "I was in the kitchen, Tom," said she. 
 
 *' Don't call «2e Tom, d — n you!" replied he, violently. "Don't 
 keep dinning into me the infernal fool that I've made of myself, 
 or it will be the worse for you." 
 
 " Sure I never meant any liarm by it ; and it was your own self 
 bid mo do it," said she, meekly, as she assisted him to remove his 
 dripping great-coat. 
 
 "And don't I rue it, well," rejoined he, through his half-closed 
 teeth. " Isn't it this confounded folly that has shut me out of the best 
 houses in the county ! My bitter curse on the day and the hour I 
 first saw you." 
 
 " Oh, don't say them words — don't, or you'll break my poor heart," 
 cried she, clinging to him as he strode angrily into the parlour. 
 
 " Be off with you — be off' to the kitchen, and leave me quiet," 
 said he, rudely. 
 
 "There's your slippers, Sir," said she, meekly, as, bending down, 
 she untied his heavy shooting-shoes, and replaced them by a pair of 
 list ones. 
 
 " Is the dinner ready ?" asked he, sternly. 
 
 " It is. Sir ; but Massin'bred isn't come back." 
 
 "And who the devil is Massingbred ? Don't you think he might 
 be Mister Massingbred out of your mouth ?" 
 
 " I ax your pardon. Sir, and his too ; but I didn't mean " 
 
 "There, there — away with you !" cried he, impatiently. "I'm 
 never in a bad humour that you don't make me worse." And he 
 leaned his face between his hands over the fire, while she slipped 
 noiselessly from the room. 
 
 " Maybe he thinks he's doing me honour by staying hero," burst 
 he forth suddenly, as he sprung to his legs and stared angril}' around 
 him. " Maybe he supposes that it's great condescension for him to 
 put up with my humble house ! Ay, and that it's my boundeu duty 
 to wait for liim to any hour he pleases. If I thought he did — if I 
 
 l2
 
 t) 
 
 14,8 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 ■was sure of it!" added lie, with a deep guttural tone, wLile he struck 
 his clenched fist violently against the chimney-piece. Then, seizing 
 the large iron poker, he knocked loudly with it against the back of 
 the fireplace — a sunuiious quickly answered by the appearance of the 
 girl at the door. 
 
 " Did he come in since morning ?" asked he, abruptly. 
 
 "No, Sir, never," replied she, witli a half curtsey. 
 
 " Nor say what time he'd be back l^*" 
 
 " Not a word, Sir." 
 
 " Then, maybe, he's not coming back — taken French leave, as they 
 call it, eh, Joan ?" 
 
 The sound of her name, spoken, too, in an accent of more friendly 
 meaning, lighted up her face at once, and her large eyes swam in 
 tears of gratitude towards him as she stood there. 
 
 " But he'd scarcely dare to do that !" said he, sternly. 
 
 " No, Sir," said she, echoing half unconsciously his opinion. 
 
 "And what do you know about it?" said he, turning savagely on 
 her. " "Where were you born and bred, to say what any gentleman 
 might do, at any time, or in any thing ? Is it Joan Landy, the herd's 
 daughter, is going to play fine lady upon us ! Faix, we're come to a 
 pretty pass now, in earnest. Be off with you. Away ! Stop, what 
 was that ? Didn't you hear a shot ?" 
 
 " I did, Sir — quite near the house, too." 
 
 A sharp knocking now on the hall-door decided the question, and 
 Magennis hastened to admit the arrival. 
 
 It is a strange fact, and one of which we are satisfied merely to 
 make mention, without attempting in the least to explain, but no 
 sooner was Magennis in the presence of his young guest, than not 
 only he seemed to forget all possible cause of irritation towards him, 
 but to behave with a manner of, for him, the most courteous civility. 
 He aided him to remove 'his shot-belt and his bag; took his hat 
 from his hands, and carefully wiped it ; placed a chair for him close 
 to the fire ; and then, as he turned to address him, remarked for the 
 first time the blood-stained handkerchief which still bound his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Did you fall — had you an accident ?" asked he, eagerly. 
 
 *' No," said the other, laughing ; " a bit of an adventure only, 
 which I'll tell you after dinner." 
 
 " "Was it any of the people ? Had you a fight " 
 
 " Come, Magennis, you must exercise a little patience. Not a 
 word, not a syllable, till I have eaten something, for I am actually 
 famishing." 
 
 A stout knock of the poker on the chimney summoned the dinner,
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MA.ETIN", !149 
 
 and almost in the same instant tlie woman entered witli a smoking 
 disk of Irish stew. 
 
 "Mrs. Joan, you're an angel," said Massingbred ; "if there was 
 a dish I was longing for, on this cold, raw day, it was one of your 
 glorious messes. They seem made for the climate, and, by Jove ! the 
 climate for them. I say, Mac, does it always rain in this fashion 
 here?" 
 
 "No; it sleets now and then, and sometimes blows." 
 
 "I should think it does," said Jack, seating himself at the table. 
 " The pleasant little slabs of marble one sees on the cabin-roofs to 
 Iceep down the thatch, are signs of your western zephyrs. — Mrs. 
 Joan has outdone herself to day. This is first-rate." 
 
 " There's too strong a flavour of hare in it," said Magennis, criti- 
 cally. 
 
 " That's exactly its perfection ; the wild savour lifts it out of the 
 vulgar category of Irish stews, and assimilates it, but not too closely, 
 to the ragout. I tell you, Mac, there's genius in the composition of 
 that gravy." 
 
 The partial pedantry of this speech was more than compensated 
 for by the racy enjoyment of the speaker, and Magennis was really 
 gratified at the zest with which his young fi-iend relished his meal, 
 
 "It has one perfection, at least," said he, modestly — "it's very 
 unlike what you get at home." 
 
 "We have a goodish sort of a cook," said Jack, languidly — "a 
 fellow my father picked up after the Congress of Yerona. Truffles 
 and treaties seem to have some strong sympathetic attraction, and 
 when diplomacy had finished its work, a cJiefv^as to be had cheap! 
 The worst of the class is, they'll only functionate for your grand 
 dinners, and they leave your every-day meal to some inferior in the 
 department." 
 
 It was strange that Magennis could listen with interest always 
 whenever Massingbred spoke of habits, people, and places, with whicli 
 he had never been conversant. It was not so much for the topics 
 tliemselves he cared — they were, in reality, valueless in his eyes — it 
 was some singular pleasure he felt in thinking that the man who 
 could so discuss them was his own guest, seated at his own tabic, 
 thus connecting himself by some invisible link with the great ones 
 of this world ! 
 
 Massiugbred's very name — the son of the celebrated Moore Mas- 
 siuffbred — a Treasurv Lord — Heaven knows what else besides — cer- 
 tainly a Eiglit Honourable — was what first fascinated him in his 
 young acquaintance, and induced him to invite him to his house.
 
 150 THE MAETINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 Jack would probably liave declined tbc iuvitation, but it just came at 
 the inomeut ayIicii lie ^vas deeply mortified at Nelligan's absence — 
 an absence which old Dan was totally unable to explain or account 
 for. Indeed, he had forgotten that, in his note to his son, he had 
 not mentioned Massingbred by name, and thus was he left to all the 
 embari-assmeut of an apology Avithout the shghtest clue as to the 
 nature of the excuse. 
 
 Xo sooner, then, was it apparent to Massingbred that young Xel- 
 ligan did not intend to return home, than he decided on taking his 
 own departure. At first he determined on going back to Dublin. But 
 suddenly a malicious thought sprung up of all the mortification it 
 might occasion Joe to learn that he was still in the neighbourhood ; 
 and with the amiable anticipation of this vengeance, he at once 
 accepted Magennis's offer to " accompany him to his place in the 
 mountains and have some shooting." 
 
 It would not have been easy to find two men so essentially uidil^e 
 in every respect as these two, who now sat discussing their punch 
 after dinner. In birth, bringing-up, habits, instincts, they were 
 widely dissimilar, and yet, somehow, they formed a sort of companion- 
 ship palatable to each. Each had something to tell the other, which 
 he had either not heard before, or not heard in the same way. We 
 have already adverted to the strong fascination Magennis experienced 
 in dwelling on the rank and social position of his young guest. 
 Massingbred experienced no less delight in the indulgence of his 
 favourite pastime — adventure hunting ! Xow, here was really some- 
 thing like adventure : this wild, rude mountain home — this strange 
 compound of gloom and passion — this poor simple country girl, 
 more than servant, less than wife — all separated from the remainder 
 of the world by a gulf wider than mere space. These were all ingre- 
 dients more than enough to suggest matter for imagination, and 
 food for after-thought in many a day to come. 
 
 They had thus passed part of a week in company, when the inci- 
 dent occurred of which our last chapter makes mention, and an 
 account of which, now, Massingbred proceeded to give his host, 
 neitlier exaggerating nor diminisliing in the slightest particular any 
 portion of the event. He even repressed Ins habitual tendency to 
 sarcasm, and spoke of his antagonist seriously and respectfully. " It 
 was quite clear," said he, in conclusion, "that he didn't know I was 
 a gentleman, and consequently never anticipated the consequence 
 of a blow." 
 
 "And he struck you ?" broke in Magennis, violently. 
 
 " You shall see for yourself," said Jack, smiling, as, untjing the
 
 "''^-^^'" 
 
 \ 
 
 ^:
 
 THE MAKTIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 151 
 
 handkerchief, he exhibited a deep cut on his forehead, from which the 
 blood still continued to ooze, 
 
 " Let Joan doctor you — she's wonderful at a cut. She has some- 
 thing they call Beggarman's Balsam. I'll fetch her." And without 
 waiting for a reply he left the room. The young woman speedily after 
 appeared with some liut and a small pot of ointment, proceeding to 
 her office with all the quiet assiduity of a practised hand, and a gentle- 
 ness that few "regulars" could vie with. Her skill was more than 
 recompensed by the few muttered words of praise Magennis bestowed^ 
 as he grumbled out, half to himself, " Old Cahill himself couldn't do it 
 better. I'd back her for a bandage against the College of Surgeons. 
 Ain't ye easier now ? — to be sure you are. She's good for that, if she 
 is for nothing else !" And even this much of eulogy made her bosom. 
 heave proudly, and brought a flush of joy over her cheek that was 
 ecstasy itself. 
 
 The world is not deficient in acts of kindness, benevolence, and 
 good-will. There is a large fountain of these running in ten thousand 
 rills ; but how many more might there not be — how much of this 
 wealth miglit there not yet be dispensed — and nobody living one jot 
 the poorer ! How many are there toiling away in obscurity and 
 narrow fortune, to whom one single word of praise — one chance syl- 
 lable of encouragement — would be life's blood ! What sunken cheeks 
 and lacklustre eyes would glow and gladden again by even a look of 
 sympathy, withheld from no lack of kindliness, but mere want of 
 thought ! Oh ye, who have station, and fame, genius, or greatness^ 
 bethink ye that these gifts are never higher than when they elevate 
 the humble and cheer the lowly, and there is no physician like him 
 who animates a droopiug heart, and gives new vigour to wearied 
 faculties and fiiiliug energy. Joan was made happy by the two or 
 three words of grateful thanks Massingbred addressed to her, and 
 stole quietly away, leaving the two companions once more alone. 
 
 If there was any incident in life participation in which coidd 
 convey intense gratification to Magennis, it was that sort of difference 
 or misunderstanding that might lead to a duel. AVhenever the aSair 
 oftered no other alternative, his delight was unbounded. There were, 
 it was rumoured, events in his own early life which would imply that 
 the taste for mortal combat extended only to cases where his friends 
 w'ere concerned, and had no selfish application whatever. Of these 
 we know nothing ; nor, indeed, have we any information to convey 
 regarding him, save by chance and stray words dropped by himself 
 in the unguarded hours of after-dinner converse. There are, however^ 
 many who like the subordinate parts in this world's comedy — who
 
 152 THE MARTTKS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 would rather be Best Man than Bridegroom, and infinitely prefer 
 performing Second, to Principal. 
 
 We are not, however, going into the inquiry as to the cause ; 
 enough when we repeat that this was Magennis's great passion, and 
 these were the kind of events for whose conduct and management he 
 believed himself to possess the most consummate tact and ability. 
 
 " You're in luck, Massingbred," cried he, as the other concluded his 
 recital — " you're in luck, Sir, to have for your friend, one that, though 
 I say it myself, hasn't his equal for a case like this in the three king- 
 doms. It was I, Sir, took out Cahill when he shot Major Harris, of 
 the Fusiliers. I handled him that morning in a way that made the 
 English officers confess there was no chance against us! A duel 
 seems an easy thing to arrange. Tou'd say that any fool could put 
 up two men, twelve, or even ten, paces asunder, and tell them to 
 blaze away ; and if that was all there was in it, it would be simple 
 enough; but consider for a minute the real case, and just remember 
 liow much the nature of the ground, whether level or uneven, has to 
 do with it ; what's behind, if a wall, or trees, or only sky ; the state 
 of the light ; how the sun stands ; whether there's wind, and what 
 way it's coming. These are not all. There's the pistols — how they 
 ' throio,' and with what charge ; and then there's the size of your 
 man. Ay, Massingbred, and let me tell you, you now see before you 
 the man that invented the ' invulnerable position.' " ; 
 
 " By Jove ! that's a most valuable fact to me just now," said Jack, 
 helping himself to a fresh tumbler. " I'm glad you have not been 
 retained by the other side." 
 
 " The ' invulnerable position!' " continued Magennis, perfectly heed- 
 less of the other's remark ; while, taking up the poker, he stalked out 
 to the middle of the room, drawing himself up to his full height, and 
 presenting, as though with a pistol— " Do you see what I mean ?" 
 cried he. 
 
 " I can't say I do," said Jack, hesitatingly. 
 
 " I thought not," rejoined the other, proudly, " nobody ever did 
 that wasn't ' out' often. Pay attention now, and I'll explain it. My 
 head, you perceive, is carried far behind my right shoulder, so as to 
 be completely protected by my pistol-hand and the pistol. I say the 
 pistol, because it has been proved scientifically that the steadiest eye 
 that ever fired never could aim at the antagonist's pistol. Morris 
 Crofton practised it for eight years in his own garden, and though he 
 d|d succeed, he told me that for practical purposes it was no use. 
 Is'ow we come to the neck, and you may observe the bend of my 
 elbow. Ay, that little angle that nobody would remark masks the
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 153 
 
 jugular arteries, and all the otlier vital nerves in that part. John 
 Toler used to say that the head and neck was like the metropolis, and 
 that a shot elsewhere was only like a ' row' in the provinces : and a 
 very true and wise remark it was. Not that I neglect the trunk," 
 added he, proudly, " for you see how I stand — three-quarters of the 
 back towards the enemy, so as not to expose the soft parts. As for 
 the legs," cried he, contemptuously, " let them crack at them as long 
 as they like." 
 
 " And that's the 'invulnerable position,' "' said Massingbred ; with 
 less enthusiasm, however, than the discovery might seem to warrant. 
 
 " It is, Sir, and if it wasn't for it there's many a strapping fellow 
 walking about this day, that would be lying with a marble counter- 
 pane over him. Billy Welsh, that fought Brian of Deanstown, was 
 the first man I ever ' put up' in it. Billy had a slight crick of the 
 neck, and couldn't get the head far enough round to the right, 
 and the ball took him in the bridge of the nose, and carried that 
 feature clean off, but never damaged him in any other respect what- 
 ever !" 
 
 " I must say that the loss was quite sufficient for a man who 
 had the benefit of the ' invulnerable position,' " said Massingbred, 
 quietly. 
 
 " He thinks nothing of it. A chap in the Crow-street Theatre 
 made him a better nose than ever he had, out of wax, I believe ; and 
 he has a winter one, v.-ith a blush of red on it, to make believe it was 
 cold, and they tell me you'd never discover it wasn't his own." 
 
 Magennis had now resumed his place at table, and seemed bent 
 on making up for lost time by giving double measure of whisky to 
 Lis punch. 
 
 "You say that lie's to be in Oughterard to-night; well, with the 
 blessing of the Virgin" — an invocation he invariably applied to every 
 act of dubious morality — " we'll be with him before he's out of bed 
 to-morrow !" 
 
 " I wish he had not given mc a blow," said Jack, musingly. " He 
 seemed such a stout-hearted, spirited old fellow, I'm really grieved 
 to quarrel with him." 
 
 " I'm glad that there's nobody to hear them words but myself, 
 Mr. Massingbred," said the other, witli all the slowness and deli- 
 beration of incipient drunkenness — "I'm rejoiced, Sir, that it's in 
 the confidential intercourse of friendly — friendly — communication — 
 that the son of my old and valued friend — Moore Massingbred — uses 
 expressions like that." 
 
 Jack started Avith amazement at this speech; he had not the
 
 IS-l THE MAllTI^"S OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 sliglitest suspicion till that moment that Magennis and his father 
 bad ever known each other, or even met. A very little patience, 
 hovrever, on his part served to solve the difficulty, for he discovered 
 that one of the peculiarities of this stage of his friend's ebriety was 
 to fancy liimself the intimate and associate of any one whose name 
 he had ever heard mentioned. 
 
 " Ay, Sir, them's words your father would never have uttered. I 
 was with him in his first blaze, ' Moore,' says I, ' haven't you a 
 pair of black breeches ?' — he wore a pair of web ' tights' of a light 
 
 pattern What are you laughing at, Sir ?" cried he, sternly, and ' 
 
 striking the table with his clenched knuckles, till the glasses all rang 
 on it. 
 
 " I was laughing at my father's costume," said Jack ; who really 
 told the truth, sucli a portrait of his parent's appearance being 
 manifestly unlike anything he had ever imagined. 
 
 "And the worse manners yours, Sir," rejoined Magennis, rudely. 
 "I'll not sufier any man to laugh at an old friend — and — and — 
 schoolfellow !" 
 
 It was with the very greatest difficulty that Jack could restrain 
 himself at this peroration, which indignation — the same, probably, that 
 creates Poets — had suggested. He had, however, tact enough to 
 preserve his gravity, while he assured his companion tkat no unfilial 
 sentiment had any share in his thoughts. 
 
 "So far, so well," said Magennis, who now helped himself to the 
 whisky, unadulterated by any water, " otherwise. Sir, it's not Lieu- 
 tenant Magennis, of the — 9th Foot, Avould handle you on the ground 
 to-morrow !" 
 
 " So, then, you've served, Mac ? "Why, you never broke that to me 
 before !" 
 
 " Broke!" cried the other, with a voice shrill from passion, while 
 lie made an effort to rise from his chair, and sunk back again — 
 "broke! who dares to say I was 'broke.' I left the scoundrels 
 myself. I shook the dust off my feet after them. There never was a 
 court-martial about it. Never — never 1" To the deep crimson that 
 suffused his face before, there now succeeded an almost death-like 
 pallor, and Massingbred really felt terrified at the change. Some 
 heartrending recollection seemed suddenly to have cleared his brain, 
 routing in an instant all the effects of intoxication, and restoring 
 him to sobriety and sorrow together. 
 
 "Ay," said he, in a low, broken voice, and still speaking to him- 
 self, " that finished me ! I never held my head up again ! Who 
 could, after such a business ? I came here, Mr. Massingbred," con-
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 155 
 
 tinned be, but addressing bis guest in a tone of deep respect — " I 
 came back here a ruined man, and not eigbt-and-twenty ! Ton see 
 me now, a dirty, drunken sot, not better dressed, nor better mannered, 
 than tbe commonest fellow on tbe road, and yet I'm a gentleman 
 born and bred, well nurtured, and well educated. I took a College 
 degree, and went into tbe Army." He paused, as if trying to 
 gatber courage to go on ; tbe efiort was more tban be could accom- 
 plisb, and, as tbe beavy tears stole slowly down bis cbeeks, tbe agony 
 of tbe struggle migbt be detected. Half mecbanically be seized tbe 
 decanter of wbisky and poured tbe tumbler nearly full ; but Jack 
 good-bumouredly stretcbed out bis band towards tbe glass, and said, 
 "Don't drink, Mac; tbere's no bead could stand it." 
 
 " You tbink so, boy," cried be, witli a saucy smile. "Little you 
 know tbe way we live in tbe west, bere ;" and be tossed off tbe 
 liquor before tbe otber could stop bim. Tbe empty glass bad scarcely 
 been replaced on tlie table, wben all tbe former signs of drunkenness 
 bad come back again, and in bis bloodsbot eyes and swollen veins 
 migbt be seen tbe very type of passionate debaucb. 
 
 " IS'ot ask me to tbeir bouses !" cried be, boarse witb passion." 
 ""Wbo wants them ? Not invite me ! Did I ever seek tbem ? The 
 dirty, mean spalpeens, don't I know tbe history of every one of tbem ? 
 Couldn't I expose tliem from one end of tbe county to tbe otber ? 
 Who's Blake of Harristown ? He's the son of Lucky Magarry, tbe 
 pedlar. You don't believe me. I bad it from Father Cole himself. 
 Lucky was hanged at Enuis. ' Ye want a confession !' says Lucky, 
 when he came out on the drop — ' ye want a confession ! "Well, I 
 suppose tbere's no use in keeping anything back now, for ye'll hang 
 me at any rate, and so here it's for you. It was J murdered Mr. 
 Shea, and there was nobody helping me at all. I did it all myself 
 witb a flail ; and be the same token, it's under MarkBindon's tomb- 
 stone this minute. There now, the Jury may be azy in their minds, 
 and tbe Judge, and tbe hangman too, if he cares about it. As for his 
 Honour tbe High SheriftV said be, raising his voice, ' he's a fine man, 
 God bless bim, and the county may be proud of bim, for it was he 
 ferreted out all about this business ! And fais, notwithstanding all, 
 I'm proud of him myself, for he's my own son !' And as he said that 
 he dropped on his knees and cried out that he might never see 
 Glory if there was a word of lie in anytliing be said then ! So that's 
 what Blake got for bis zeal for justice !" 
 
 And as Mageuuis finished, be burst into a wild, fiendish laugh, and 
 said : 
 
 "There's the county gentry — tbere's the people won't know Ma-
 
 15G THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 
 
 gennis and bis wife ! — ay, Sir, liis lawful, married wife ! Let me 
 see that you or any other man will deny it, or refuse to treat her as 
 becomes licr station. — Joan! Joan!" shouted he, striking the poker 
 violently against the chimney; and with hot haste and intense anxiety 
 the poor girl rushed into the room the moment after. " Sit down 
 here, Ma'am," said Magennis, rising, and placing a chair for her be- 
 side his own, with an affectation of courtesy that savoured of mockery 
 — " sit down, I say," cried he, stamping his foot passionately. " That's 
 my wife. Sir ! No man that sits at my board shall behave to her as 
 anything else." 
 
 "I have ever treated her with respect," said Massingbred, "and 
 shall always continue to do so." 
 
 ''And it's better for you to do so," said the other, fiercely, the 
 bullying spirit rising on what he deemed the craven submission of 
 his guest. 
 
 Meanwhile the girl sat trembling with terror, not knowing what 
 the scene portended, or how it was to end. 
 
 '' The herd's daughter, indeed ! No, Sir, Mrs. Magennis, of 
 •Barnagheela, that's her name and title!" 
 
 At these words the poor girl, overcome with joy and gratitude, 
 fell down upon her knees before him, and, clasping his hand, covered 
 it with kisses. 
 
 " Isn't that pretty breeding !" cried Magennis, violently. " Get up. 
 Ma'am, and sit on your chair like a lady. The devil a use in it, do 
 what you will, say what you will — the bad ' drop' is iji them ; and 
 whatever becomes of you in life, Massingbred, let me give you this 
 advice — never marry beneath you !" 
 
 Jack contrived at this juncture to signal to the girl to step away, 
 and by appearing to attend with eagerness to Magennis, he prevented 
 his remarking her exit. 
 
 " A man's never really ruined till then," continued he, slowly, and 
 evidently sobering again as he went on. " Priends fall away from 
 you, and your companions are sure to be fellows with something 
 against them ! Tou begin by thinking you're doing a grand and a 
 courageous thing ! You string up your resolution to despise the world, 
 and, take my word for it, the world pays you off at last. Ay," said 
 be, after a long pause, in which his features settled down into an ex- 
 pression of deep sorrow, and his voice quivered with emotion — " ay, 
 and I'll tell you something worse than all — you revenge all your dis- 
 appointment on the poor girl tliat trusted you ! and you break her 
 heart to try and heal your own !"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 157 
 
 "With these last -^ords lie buried liis head between his hands and 
 sobbed fearfully. 
 
 "Leave me now — leave me alone," said he, without lifting hig 
 head. " Good night — good night to you !" 
 
 Massingbred arose without a word, and, taking a candle, ascendea 
 to his chamber, his last thoughts about his host being very unlike 
 those with which he had first regarded him. From these considera- 
 tions he turned to others more immediately concerning himself, nor 
 could he conquer his misgivings that Magennis was a most unhappy 
 selection for a friend in such an emergency. 
 
 " But then I really am without a choice," said he to himself. " Joe 
 
 Nelligau, perhaps, miglit but no, he would have been infinitely 
 
 more unfit than the other. At all events, NeUigan has himself severed 
 the friendship tliat once existed between ns." And so he wan- 
 dered on to thoughts of his former companionship with him. Ee- 
 gretful and gloomy enough were they, as are all memories of those in 
 whose hearts we once believed we had a share, and from which we 
 cannot reconcile ourselves to the exclusion. 
 
 " He had not the manliness to meet me when I had become aware 
 of his real station ! AVhat a poor-spirited fellow! Just as if /cared 
 what or who his father was. 3Iy theory is — Jack JNIassingbred can 
 afford to know any man he pleases ! "Witness the roof that now 
 shelters me, and the character of him who is my host !" 
 
 It was a philosophy he built much upon, for it was a form of self-love 
 that simulated a good quality, many of his acquaintances saying, 
 " At all events, there's no snobbery about Massingbred ; he'll know, 
 and even be intimate with, anybody." Nor did the deception only 
 extend to others. Jack himself fancied he was an excellent fellow — 
 frank, generous, and open-hearted. 
 
 It is a very strange fact — and fact it certainly is — that the men 
 who reason most upon their own natures, look inwardly at their own 
 minds, and scrutinise most their own motives, are frequently the least 
 natural of all mankind ! This self-inquiry is such thorough self-decep- 
 tion, that he who indulges in it, often becomes an actor. As for Mas- 
 singbred, there was nothing real about him save his Egotism ! Grifted 
 with very good abilities, aided by a strong "vitality," he had great 
 versatility ; but of all powers, this same plastic habit tends most to 
 render a man artificial. 
 
 Now, his present difficulty was by no means to his taste. He did 
 not like his "quarrel;" ho liked less the age and station of his 
 adversary ; and, least of all, was he pleased with the character of his 
 "friend." It was said of Sheridan, that when consulted about tho
 
 15S THE ilAETINS OF CKO' MAUTIN. 
 
 music of liis operas, he only asked, " Will it grind ?" — that is, would 
 it be popular enough for a street-organ, and become familiar to every 
 ear? So Jack Massiugbred regarded each event in life by the test 
 
 of how it would " tell" — in what wise could a newspaper report it 
 
 and how would it read in the Clubs? He fancied himself discussino- 
 the adventure at " White's," and asking, " Can any one say what 
 Massingbred's row was about ? Was he poaching ? — or hoAv came 
 he there ? Was there a woman in it ? And who is his friend 
 Magennis?" In thoughts like these he passed hour after hour, 
 walking his room from end to end, and waiting for morning. 
 
 At length he bethought him liow little likely it was that Magennis 
 would remember anything whatever of the transaction, and tliat his 
 late debauch might obliterate all memory of the affair. " What if 
 this were to be the case, and that we were to arrive too late at Ough- 
 terard ? A pretty version would the papers then publish to the 
 world!" Of all possible casualties this was the very worst, and the 
 more he reflected on it, the more probable did it seem. " He is the 
 very fellow to wake up late in the afternoon, rub his eyes, and de- 
 clare he had forgotten the whole thing." 
 
 "Tliis will never do !" muttered he to himself; and at once deter- 
 mined that he would make an endeavour to recal his friend to con- 
 sciousness, and come to some arrangement for the ai^proaching meet- 
 ing. Massiugbred descended the stairs with noiseless steps, and 
 gently approaching the door of the sitting-room, opened it. 
 
 Magennis was asleep, his head resting upon the table, and his 
 heavy breathing denoting how deeply he slumbered. On a low stool 
 at his feet sat Joan, pale and weary-looking, her cheeks still marked 
 with recent tears, and the dark impression of what seemed to have 
 been a blow beneath her eye.> Jack approached her cautiously, and 
 asked if it were his custom to pass the night thus ? 
 
 "Sometimes, when he's tired— when he has anything on his 
 mind," replied she, in some confusion, and averting her head so as to 
 escape notice. 
 
 " And when he awakes," said Jack, " he will be quite refreshed, 
 and his head all clear again ?" 
 
 "By coorsc he will!" said she, proudly. "N'o matter what he 
 took of a night, nobody ever saw the signs of it on him, the next 
 morning." 
 
 ^ " I did not ask out of any impertinent curiosity," continued Mas- 
 smgbred, " but we have, both of us, some rather important busi- 
 ness to-morrow in Oughterard— we ought to be there at an early 
 hour "
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 159 
 
 " I know," said she, interrupting. " He bid me bring down these ;" 
 and she pointed to a case of pistols lying open beside her, and in 
 cleaning which she had been at the moment engaged. " I brought the 
 wrong ones, first." Here she stammered out something, and grew 
 crimson over her whole face ; then suddenly recovering herself, 
 said, "I didn't know it was tlie ' Terries' he wanted." 
 
 " The 'Terries?' " repeated Jack. 
 
 " Yes, Sir. It was these Terry Callaghan shot the two gentlemen 
 with, the same morning, at Croghaglin — father and son they were!" 
 And saying these words in a voice of the most perfect unconcern 
 possible, she took up a flannel rag and began to polish the lock of 
 one of the weapons. 
 
 " They're handsome pistols," said Jack, rather amused with her 
 remark. 
 
 " They're good, and that's better!" replied she, gravely. "That 
 one in your hand lias seven double crosses on the stock and nine 
 single." 
 
 " The seven were killed on the ground, I suppose ?" 
 
 A short nod of assent was her reply. 
 
 " Such little events are not unfrequent down here, then ?" 
 
 " Anan!" said she, not understanding his question. 
 
 Jack quickly perceived that he had not taken sufficient account of 
 Joan's limited acquaintance with language, and said : 
 
 " They often fight in these parts ?" 
 
 "Ayeh! not now," replied she, in a half-deploring tone. "My 
 father remembers twenty duels for one that does be, now-a-days." 
 
 " A great change, indeed." 
 
 " Some say it's all for the better," resumed she, doubtfully. "But 
 hush — he's stirring ; leave him quiet, and I'll call you when he's 
 ready." 
 
 " And I can depend " 
 
 " To be sure you can. lie forgets many a thing, but no man 
 living can say that he ever misremembered a duel." And with these 
 words, in a low whisper, she motioned Massingbrcd to the door. 
 
 Jack obeyed in silence, and, ascending to liis room, lay down on 
 the bed. He determined to pass the interval before morning in deep 
 thought and self-examination ; but, somehow, he liad scarcely laid his 
 head on the pillow when he fell off into a lieavy sleep, sound and 
 dreamless. 
 
 Tlic day was just breaking when^he was aroused by a somewhat 
 rude shake, and a voice saying : 
 
 " Come, up with you. We've a sharp ride before us !"
 
 IGO THE MAETINS OF CllO MAETIN. 
 
 Jack started up, and in an instant recalled all tlie exigencies of the 
 
 hour. 
 
 " I have sent ' the tools' forward by a safe hand," continued 
 Mao-ennis ; " and Joan has a cup of tea ready for us, below stairs. 
 So, lose no time now, and let us be off." 
 
 The humble meal that awaited them was soon despatched, and they 
 were speedily mounted on the pair of mountain ponies ISIagcnnis had 
 provided, and whose equipments, even in the half-light of the morning, 
 rather shocked Massingbred's notions of propriety — one of his stirrup- 
 leathers bein"- a foot shorter than tlie other, while an old worsted 
 bell-rope formed the snaffle-rein of his bridle. 
 
 The road, too, was rugged and precipitous, and many a stumble 
 and scramble had they in the uncertain light ; while the swooping 
 rain dashed violently against them, and effectually precluded all 
 thought of conversation. Two hours, that seemed like ten, brought 
 them at length upon the high road ; after which, by a brisk canter 
 of forty minutes, they reached Oughterard. 
 
 " Let us dismount here," said Jack, as they gained the outskirts 
 of the town, not fancying to make a public appeai-ance on his 
 humble steed. 
 
 "Why so?" answered Magennis. "It's ashamed of the pony 
 you are ! Oh, for the matter of that, don't distress yourself; we're 
 too well used to them in these parts to think them ridiculous." 
 
 There was a soreness and irritation in his tone which Jack quickly 
 remarked, and as quickly tried to obviate, by some good-natured 
 remark about the good qualities of the animals ; but Magennis heard 
 him without attention, and seemed entirely immersed in his own 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Turn in there, to your left," cried he, suddenly, and they wheeled 
 into an arched gateway that opened upon the stable-yard of the inn. 
 Early as it was, the place was full of bustle and movement, for it was 
 the market-day, and the farmers were already arriving. 
 
 Carts, cars, gigs, and a dozen other nameless vehicles, crowded the 
 spot, with kicking ponies and mules of malicious disposition ; groom- 
 ing, and shoeing, and unharnessing went on, with a noise and merri- 
 ment that was perfectly deafening ; and Massingbred, as he threaded 
 his way through the crowd, soon perceived how little notice he was 
 likely to attract in such an assembly, Magennis soon dismounted, 
 and having given directions about the beasts, led Jack into the house, 
 and up a narrow, creaking stair, into a small room, with a single 
 window, and a bed in one corner. " This is where I always put up," 
 said he, laying down liis hat and whip, " and it will do well enough 
 for the time we'll want it."
 
 THE MAETIXS 01" CKO' MAETIN. IGl 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "a challenge." 
 
 "He's here ; he arrived last night," said Magenuid, as he entered 
 the room after a short exploring tour through the stables, the kitchen, 
 and every other quarter where intelligence might be come at. " Ho 
 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 Massiiigbred. 
 
 " I'll just go and get my beard olF," said he, passing his hand 
 across a very grizzly stubble, " and I'll be with him in less than half 
 an hour. There's only a point or two I want to be clear about. 
 Before lie struck you, did you gesticulate, or show any intention of 
 using violence?" 
 
 " jSTone. 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 there was," said Jack, pointing to the spot where a great 
 strap of sticking-plaister extended across his forehead. 
 
 " And he seemed to understand at once that reparation was to be 
 made for it ?" 
 
 "The suggestion came fi'om himself, frankly and speedily." 
 
 ""Well, it's pretty evident we have to deal with a gentleman !" said 
 Magennis, " and that same's a comfort ; so I'll leave you now for a 
 short time : amuse yourself as well as you can, but don't quit the 
 room." And with this caution Mageunis took his departure, and set 
 off in search of Mr. Eepton's chamber. 
 
 " Where are you bringing the mutton chops, Peter ?" said he to a 
 waiter, who, with a well-loaded tray of eatables was hastening along 
 the corridor. 
 
 "To the ould Counsellor, from Dublin, Sir. He's breakfastin' 
 with the Major." 
 
 " And that's his room, No. 19 ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 H
 
 162 THE MARTINS 01" CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 "They're merry, at all events," said Magennis, as a burst of 
 liearty 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 supper, and I could scarce change 
 the plates for laughin'." 
 
 Muttering some not very intelligible observation to himself, Ma- 
 gennis passed down the stairs, and issuing into the street, wended his 
 way to the barber's. 
 
 If the Oughterard Figaro had not as brilliant a vocation as his 
 colleague of Seville, his occupations were scarcely less multifarious, 
 for he kept the post-office, was clerk at petty sessions, collected the 
 parish cess, presided over "the pound," besides a vast number of in- 
 ferior duties. Whether it was the result of a natural gift, or by the 
 various information of his official life, Hosey Lynch was regarded in 
 his native town as a remarkably shrewd man, and a good opinion 
 on a number of subjects. 
 
 lie 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 for news — news, political, social, 
 legal, or literary ; whatever might be the topic, it always interested 
 him, and it was his especial pride to have the initiative of every event 
 that stirred the hearts of the Oughterard public. 
 
 The small den in which he performed his functions occupied the 
 corner of the street, giving a view in two directions, so that Hosey, 
 while cutting and curling, never was obliged to lose sight of that 
 world without, in whose doings he felt so strong an interest. In the 
 one easy-chair of this sanctum was Magennis now disposed, waiting 
 for Mr. Lynch, who bad just stepped down to "the pound," to libe- 
 rate the priest's pig. Nor had he long to wait, for Hosey soon made 
 his appearance, and slipping on a very greasy-looking jean-jacket, 
 proceeded to serve him. 
 
 " The top of the morning to you, Captain" — he always styled him 
 by the title — " it's a rare pleasure to see you so early in town ; but 
 it will be a bad market to-day — cut and curled. Captain ?" 
 
 " No ; shaved 1" said Magennis, bluntly. 
 
 " And shaved you shall be, Captain — and beautifully shaved, too, 
 for I have got an excellent case from Lamprey's ; they came yester- 
 day — came with the writ against Jones Creegan." 
 
 " At whose suit ?"
 
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 ^ 
 
 V 
 ■V 
 
 vVN 
 
 ■^0 
 
 V 
 
 VS 
 
 
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 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIIT. 163 
 
 "Mrs. Miles Creegan, the other brother's widow," said Hosey, 
 lathering away aud talking with breathless rapidity. " There was 
 a clause in old Sam's will, tliat if ever Tom, the chap that died at 
 Demerara — you'd like more off the whiskers, it's more military. It 
 was only yesterday Major Froode remarked to me what a soldierlike- 
 looking man was Captain Magennis." 
 
 " Is he in command of the detachment ?" asked the other. 
 
 "He is in his Majesty's — 1st Foot — the 'Buccaneers,' they used 
 to be called ; I suppose you never heard why ?" 
 
 "No, nor don't want to hear. "What kind of a man is the 
 Major ?" 
 
 " He's a smart, well-made man, with rather a haughty look," said 
 Hosey, drawing himself up, and seeming to imply that there was a 
 kind of resemblance between them. 
 
 " Is he English or Irish ?" 
 
 " Scotch, Captain — Scotch ; and never gives more than fivepence for 
 a cut and curl, pomatum included. — No letters, Mrs. Cronin," cried 
 he, raising up the movable shutter of the little window ; then bending 
 down his ear he listened to some whispered communication from that 
 lady, after which he shut the panel, aud resvimed his functions. " She's 
 at law with O'Eeilly about the party wall. There's the Major now 
 going down to the barracks, and I wonder who's the other along with 
 him ;" and Hosey rushed to the door to find some 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. 
 — Notliing for you, Peter," said he to an applicant for a letter out- 
 side. " 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 — aud, as 
 I was saying. Captain, the Martins will lose the borough." 
 
 "Who thinks so besides you ?" asked Magennis, grviffly. 
 
 " It is, I may say, the general opinion ; the notion current in 
 
 There's Miss Martin, herself," cried lie, ininning to the window. 
 " Well, really, she handles them ponies elegant !" 
 
 " Does she come often into town ?" 
 
 " I don't think I saw her in Oughterard — let me see when it was— 
 
 it's two years — no, but it's not far off— it's more than " 
 
 M 2
 
 IQJ! THE MARTINS OF CEO MAETHS". 
 
 " Are you done ?" said Magcnnis, impatiently. " I told you that 
 I was pressed for time this morning." 
 
 "You're finished now, Captain," said Hosey, presenting him with 
 a small cracked looking-glass. " That's what I call a neat chin and a 
 beautiful sweep of whisker. Thank you. Captain. It's a pleasure 
 and an honour— not to say that it's " 
 
 Mao-ennis 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 lieard that Mr. Eepton had gone out, leaving word 
 that he would be found at INIajor Froode's quarters. Thither Ma- 
 gennis now repaired, with all tlie solemn importance befitting his 
 mission. 
 
 As he sent in his name, he could overhear the short colloquy tliat 
 passed within, and perceive that Eepton was aboiit 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 higli 
 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, andMagennis 
 went on : " I suppose, then, I'm to treat with you as the friend of 
 Mr. Valentine Eepton?" 
 
 "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 discus- 
 sion of the question at issue between two old soldiers, like you and 
 myself, might possibly be advisable ? Is there not a chance that our 
 united experience might not suggest an amicable ari'angement of 
 this business ?" 
 
 " Quite out of the question — utterly, totally impossible I" said 
 Magennis, sternly. 
 
 "Then perhaps I lie under some misconception," said the Major, 
 ct)urteously. 
 
 " There was a blow. Sir ! — a blow !" said Magennis, in the same 
 stern tone. 
 
 " I opine that everything that occurred was purely accidental — 
 just hear me out — that a hasty word and a hurried gesture, compli- 
 cated with the impatient movement of a horse "
 
 THE MABTINS OF CEO' MAETII^. 165 
 
 A long whistle from Magemiis internipted tlie speech, and the 
 Major, reddening to the very top of his high forehead, said : 
 " Sir, this is unbecoming — are you aware of it ?" 
 " I'm quite ready for anything when this is settled," said Magennis, 
 but with less composure than he desired to assume. " "What I meant 
 was, that, for a blow there is but one reparation." 
 
 "Doubtless, if the injury admit of no explanation," said the 
 Major, calmly ; " but in that lies the whole question. Consider two 
 things. Captain Magennis : first of all, the equivocal appearance of 
 ^'oz^r friend, the age and standing of ««'«e." 
 
 "By Jove ! you'll kill me in trying to save my life," said Eepton, 
 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 cor- 
 rect. There was a blow, and a blow has only one consequence, and 
 that one I'm ready for. Thei'e may be, for aught I know, twenty 
 ways of settling these matters in London or at the Clubs, but we're 
 old-fashioned in our notions in Ireland here ; and I don't think that 
 even when we pick up new fashions that we're much the better for 
 
 them, so that if your friend is here. Captain, and ready " 
 
 " Both, Sir ; here and ready !" 
 
 " Then so am I ; and now for the place. Come, Froode, you don't 
 know Ireland as well as I do ; just humour me this time, and when- 
 ever 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. 
 " Eor me, did you say ?" said llepton, taking a letter from the ser- 
 vant, who had just entered the room. 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; and the groom says there's an answer expected." 
 " The devil take it, I've forgotten my spectacles. Froode, just tell 
 me what's this about, and who it comes from." 
 
 "It's Miss Martin's hand," said Froode, breaking the seal and 
 running over the contents. " Oh, I perceive," said he; " they're afraid 
 you have taken French leave of them at Cro' Martin, and she has 
 driven into town to carry you back again." 
 
 " That comes of my leaving word at the little post-office to forward 
 my letters to Dublin if not asked for to-morrow. Take a pen, Froodc, 
 and write a couple of lines for me : say tliat 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, turn- 
 ing towards him as lie sat, with a very equivocal expression, half grin, 
 half sneer, upon his features — " that I'll be with them at breakfast next
 
 1G6 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 morning," resumed Bepton, boldly. " Make some excuse for my not 
 answering the note myself — whatever occurs to you. And so, Sir," 
 said lie, turning to Magennis, " your friend's name is Massiugbred ? 
 Any relation to Colonel Moore Massingbrcd ?" 
 
 " His son — his only son, I believe." 
 
 " How stran2;c ! I remember the father in the ' House' — I mean 
 the Irish House — five-aud-thirty years ago ; he was always on the 
 Government benches. It was of him Parsons wrote those doggrel 
 
 lines : 
 
 A man without a heart or head, 
 Who seldom thought, who never read, 
 A witty word who never said. 
 One at whose board none ever fed. 
 Such is the Colonel M — g— b — d. 
 
 He couldn't call him a coward, though ; for when they went out 
 — ^whieh they did — Massingbred's manner on the ground was ad- 
 mirable." 
 
 ""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 our- 
 selves at your disposal the better." 
 
 Froodo whispered something in Eepton's ear, and by his manner 
 seemed as if remonstrating with him, when the other said aloud : 
 
 ""We're in Ireland, Major; and, what's more, we're in Gralway; 
 as Macleweed said once to a prisoner : ' With a Yorkshire jury. Sir, 
 I'd hang you. Tour sentence now is, to pay five 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 off", on the road to Maum," 
 said Magennis to the Major. " "We could ride slowly forward, and 
 you might keep us in view." 
 
 " In what direction did you say ?" 
 
 *' Take the second turn out of the market-place till you pass the 
 baker's shop, then, to the left, and straight on afterwards. You can't 
 miss it." 
 
 " Stop a moment. Sir," said Proode to Magennis, as he moved to- 
 wards the door ; " one word, if you please. It is distinctly under- 
 stood that I have been overruled in this business — that, in fact, I 
 
 have submitted " 
 
 " Your point has been reserved," said Eeptou, laughing, while he 
 led him away ; and Magennis at the same moment took his departure.
 
 THE MAETrN-S Or CEO' MARTIIT. 167 
 
 It was, indeed, -with no slight feeling of triumpli that this gentle- 
 man now hastened back to the Martin Arms. Never did a great 
 diplomatist experience more pride in the conclusion of some crown- 
 ing act of negotiation than did he in the accomplishment of this 
 afiair. 
 
 "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 em- 
 barrassed by the circumstances ; for, certainly, the taking hold of the 
 bridle was an awkward fact, and if the Major was a 'cute fellow he'd 
 have made a stand upon it. I must say that the Counsellor showed 
 no backwardness ; he comes of that fine old stock we used to have 
 before the Union." 
 
 And with this profound reflection he entered the room where 
 Massingbred sat awaiting him. 
 
 " It's all settled. AYe're to meet at the Priest's Gap within an 
 hour," said Magennis, with the air of a man who had acquitted him- 
 self cleverly. " And though I say it, that shouldn't, if you were in 
 other hands this morning you wouldn't have got your shot." 
 
 "I always relied implicitly upon your skill!" said Massingbred, 
 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 present situation. Nor 
 could all his habitual levity steel him against the conviction that five 
 minutes of common-sense talk might arrange a dispute which now 
 promised a serious ending. " However," thought he, " we are not 
 in the land wliere such diflerences 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 liiui without speaking. 
 
 " I know wluit bi'ought you lierc 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.
 
 168 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MABTIN. 
 
 " I know, Sir, that yoii aro lilccly to regard my interference as im- 
 pertinent," resumed Xelligau; "but I trust that the friend of my 
 son, Joe " 
 
 " I must set you right, upon one point at least, Mr. Nelligau," said 
 Massingbred, "nith an easy smile. " If you be only as accurate in 
 your knowledge of my affairs as you are with respect to my private 
 iViendships, this visit has certainly proceeded from some misconcep- 
 tion. Your son and I were friends once upon a time. "We are so 
 110 longer!" 
 
 " I never heard of this. I never knew you had quarrelled !" 
 
 " We have not, Sir. A\"e have not even met. The discourtesy he 
 has shown me since my arrival here — his avoidance of me, too 
 marked to be explained away — is an offence. The only misfortune 
 is, that it is one which can be practised with impunity." 
 
 " My son asks for none such," said Dan, fiercely. " And if your 
 
 observation is meant for an insult " He stopped suddenly, as if 
 
 checked by something within, and then said, but in a voice full and 
 measured: "I'm a magistrate of this town, Sir, and I come here 
 upon information that has reached me of your intentions to commit 
 a breach of the peace." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Xelligau," began INIassingbred, in his most seductive 
 of manners, — but the other had already Avitnessed 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. Nelligau, you cannot, surely, suppose 
 that a mere stranger as I am in your county — scarcely ten days here 
 — should liave been unfortunate enough to have incurred the animosity 
 of any one." 
 
 " I hold here a statement. Sir," said Nelligan, sternl}-, " which, if 
 you please to pledge your honour to be incorrect " 
 
 " And this is Galway !" exclaimed Massingbred — " this glorious 
 land of chivalrous sentiment of which we poor Englishmen liave been 
 liearing to satiety ! The Paradise of Point • of Honour, then, turns 
 out a very common-place locality after all!" 
 
 " I'm proud to say that our county has another reputation than 
 its old one; not but" — and he added the words in some temper — 
 " there arc a few left would like to teach you that its character was 
 not acquired for notlung." 
 
 "Well, well!" sighed Jack, as he closed his eyes, and appeared as 
 if indulging in a reverie, " of all the mockeries I have lived to see un- 
 masked, this is the worst and meanest." 
 
 "I have not come here to listen to this, Sir," said Nelligan,,
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIK". 169 
 
 liaugbtily, as lie arose. " I waited upon you, intending to accept 
 your solemn pledge, by word of lionour, to commit no act hostile to 
 the public peace. Isow, sir, I sball call upon you to give me the 
 legal guarantee for this security — good and sufficient bail, and that 
 vrithin an hour!" 
 
 " My dear Mr. Nelligau," replied Massingbred, with all the quiet 
 ease of an unruffled temper, " I have not a single friend here, except 
 yourself, upon whom I could call in such an emergency. I am utterly 
 unknown in these parts — my very name unheard of before my arrival. 
 If I did by any unhappy circumstance find myself in such an involve- 
 ment as you speak of, I solemnly assure you my first thought would 
 be to address myself to Mr. Xelligan." 
 
 The easy impertineuce of this speech would have been perfectly 
 successful a short time previous, when Nelligan yet believed in the 
 close friendship with his son. It came now, however, too late, and 
 the old man listened to it with something bordering on anger. 
 
 " Good and sufficient bail. Sir — yourself and two others," repeated 
 he, slowly, and moving towards the door. 
 
 "One word, I pray," said Jack, rising, and speaking with more 
 earnestness and apparently with more sincerity. " I do not ask you 
 any details as to the circumstances you impute to me, but perhaps 
 you would, as a favour, tell me how this information has reached 
 you ?" 
 
 " I will not. Sir," was the abrupt reply. 
 
 " I'm sure no friend of mine could have " 
 
 " It's no use, Mr. Massingbred ; all your address will avail you 
 nothing. Ton shall not cross-examine meT' 
 
 " You must, however, see, Six*," said Massingbi-ed, " 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 !N"elligau, coldly. " Good morning to you." And with these 
 words he left the room, and descended into the street. 
 
 The passionate warmth which JMassiugbred had so successfully 
 controlled in the presence of liis 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 re- 
 solving to submit to any terms by which he might quit Galway for 
 ever, and forget, for the rest of his days, that he had ever entered it. 
 "While he was yet fuming in this fashion, the waiter entered and pre- 
 sented him with a very dirty-looking note, fastened by two wafers, 
 and inscribed " Most private." Massingbred opened it and read ;
 
 170 THE ilAETINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 
 
 "Mt deabMr. M., 
 " "We're found out — I believe by Hosej Lyncb, where I dropped 
 a bullet-mould this moruiug when he was shaving me. At all events, 
 we're blown, and as I am under 2501. recognisances to keep the 
 peace for three years, I'm off to the Mountains till this passes over. 
 I'm sure, from what I saw of the Counsellor, that he'll keep himself 
 open to a proposal elsewhere. Meanwliilc, there's nothing for it but 
 to give your bail and satisfy the blackguards — bad luck to them — 
 that spoiled the sport ! You can go back to the house when all's 
 over, and I'll return as soon as it is safe for 
 
 " Your sincere friend, 
 
 " T. M." 
 
 Scarcely had he finished reading this epistle, when Major Proode 
 presented himself in his chamber, the door of which the waiter was 
 yet holding ajar. Having introduced himself, he briefly informed 
 Massingbred of his position as Mr. Eepton'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 re- 
 quired of him also. "For this reason I have come," continued he, 
 " to say, that any assistance I can be of to you, is frankly at your 
 service. I have learned that you are a stranger here, and not likely 
 to have many acquaintances." 
 
 " If they would be satisfied with my word," began Jack. 
 
 " Of course they will, and shall," interrupted JFroode ; " 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 heyond it," 
 said Massingbred. " I am not quite certain but that my own con- 
 duct might require a little explanation ; but as your fi-iend's vigour 
 put matters beyond negotiation, at the time, we'll not go back upon 
 bygones." 
 
 " And now. Sir," burst in Eepton, who had awaited outside the 
 door — " and now, Sir, I beg you to accept the humblest apology I 
 can tender for what has happened. I'm not as safe on my saddle as 
 I used to be forty years ago ; and when the nag reared and threatened 
 to fall back on 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. Massing- 
 bred, after your fire, had we been permitted to go to 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 ?"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 171 
 
 " 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 memoiy. You must carry away some other re- 
 collections." 
 
 The new turn affairs had just taken was by no means distasteful to 
 Massiugbred. 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 ra- 
 ciness 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. 
 
 Eepton and the Major had l)ut just left the room, when the former 
 re-entered it hurriedly, and said, " By the way, I must leave you to 
 your own guidance to find your road to Cro' Martin, for there's a 
 young lady below stairs has a lien upon me. You shall be presented 
 to her when you come out, and I promise you it will repay the 
 journey." 
 
 " This must be the Mary Martin I've been hearing of," thought 
 Massiugbred, when again alone ; " and so the morning's work will 
 probably turn out better than I had anticipated." 
 
 CHAPTEE XYII. 
 
 A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 
 
 When Massiugbred arrived at Cro' Martin, he found Eepton at the 
 door awaiting him. " I find," said he, " there is little need of intro- 
 ducing you here. Your father was an old acquaintance of Mai"tiu's ; 
 they sat together for years in Parliament, and Lady Dorothea was 
 related to your family. But here he comes." And Martin ap- 
 proached, with his hand extended in cordial welcome. JN'o one ever
 
 172 THE MARTIXS OF CEO' MAHTIH". 
 
 knew better how to do the honours of his liouse, nor could throw more 
 fn-aceful courtesy into the first steps of acquaintanceship. Massing- 
 bred, too, was well calculated to appreciate this gift ; he had a most 
 intense esteem for " manner," and enjoyed even the necessity it im- 
 posed upon lumself 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. 
 
 Tlic adventure of the morning was alluded to but once, and then 
 in a jocular strain, as an incident of no moment w^iatever, and 
 Massingbred retired to his room to dress for dinner, wondering 
 within himself if he should find the other members of the family as 
 much to his liking as the worthy host had been. 
 
 A dinner-party was a rare event at Cro' Martin. The isolation in 
 which they lived was rarely broken by a visitor, and when, by rare 
 accident, some solitary stranger did present himself with a letter of 
 introduction, his stay was merely of a few hours. Now, however, the 
 company included, in addition to the family, Eepton, Massingbred, 
 and Nclligan, besides Miss Henderson, who was on that day to 
 appear at dinner. The quondam College friends had not met, neither 
 had Miss Martin ever seen her governess; so that there was no 
 small degree of anticipation as to how such elements would harmonise 
 and agree. 
 
 AVhen Massingbred entered the drawing-room, he found Miss 
 Henderson there alone, and at once believing she could be no other 
 llian Miss Martin, he proceeded to introduce himself in the best 
 manner he could. Her reception was perfect in ease and self-pos- 
 session, and they soon found themselves engaged in a lively discus- 
 ssion as to the scenery, the people, and their habits, of which they 
 both appeared to have a very similar appreciation. Lady Dorothea 
 next made her appearance, and advancing towards Massingbred, 
 welcomed him with what, for her, was the extreme of cordiality. 
 " Your mother was a Caradoc, Mr. Massingbred, and the Caradocs 
 are all of our family, so let me claim relationship, at once." 
 
 With all the pretensions of a very fine lady. Lady Dorothea knew 
 how to unite very agreeable qualities, not the less successful in her 
 t-aptivations, that she never exercised them without a real desu-e to 
 please ; so that Massingbred soon saw how in the wilds of dreary 
 Connemara there existed a little oasis of polish and civilisation 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
 
 ','"',.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' M:AUTI^'. 173 
 
 — SO many, many years since she bad met with one fresh from that 
 oreat 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, 
 sepai-ations, 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 cVoeil of that world could only be 
 imparted by an observer, himself imbued with all the spirit that gives 
 observation its peculiar piquancy. This, she found in him, and so 
 agreeably exercised was it, that she actually heard dinner announced 
 without attending, and only as she arose from her seat was reminded 
 to present him to Miss Martin, by the brief phrase : " My niece — Mr. 
 Massingbred ;" while she took his arm, with a glance at Mr. llepton, 
 that plainly said — "You are deposed." 
 
 The passage to the dinner-room lay through three spacious and 
 splendid rooms, which now w^ere 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 re- 
 turned late from a long ride, and heard nothing whatever of Massing-' 
 bred's arrival. With an exclamation of " Jack! — Massingbred !" he 
 bounded forAvard ; but the other showed no recognition of him, and 
 du'ectiug 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, NelHgan," 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 
 wluitever for this consolation. It was indeed Massingbred, just as 
 he had seen him the first day in the Common's Hall at dinner, and 
 when his cold, supercilious manner had struck him so disagreeably. 
 
 AVhat a terrible vengeance for all the superiority Nelligan liad dis- 
 played over him in the Examination Hall was IMassingbred's present 
 success, for success it was. With all that consummate readiness the 
 habit of society imparts, Jack could tallc well on a great variety of 
 topics, and possessed besides that especial tact to make others so far 
 participators in his observations, that they felt a partnership in the 
 agreeability. Lady Dorothea was perfectly charmed with him ; it
 
 17-i THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIIT. 
 
 was the triumph, as it were, of one of her own set. His anecdotes — 
 not very pointed or curious in themselves — had the marked cliarac- 
 teristic of always referring to distinguished individuals, so that what 
 was deficient in wit was more than compensated by the rank of the 
 actors. Martin enjoyed his conversation with all his own complacent 
 ease, and felt delighted with one who could play all the game without 
 an adversary. Mary was pleased and astonished together — the plea- 
 sure being even less than the amazement — at all he seemed to know 
 of life and the world, and how intimately one so young seemed to 
 have mixed in society. As for Repton, he relished the other's powers 
 with the true zest of a pleasant talker ; they were of different styles, 
 and no disagreeable rivalry marred the appreciation. 
 
 Amidst all these silent or spoken testimonies sat poor NelLigan, 
 overwhelmed with shame. Massingbred had refused to recognise 
 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 
 lie knew not what of impertinence or insult, to which the time and 
 place could offer no reparation ; but gradually he grew to perceive 
 that Massingbred' s cold eye met his own, without a spark of meaning, 
 nor was there in voice, manner, or bearing, a single evidence of con- 
 straint or awkwardness to be detected. 
 
 Miss Henderson alone seemed to listen to him with easy indiflfer- 
 ence ; and more than once, when Jack put forth his most showy 
 pretensions, he was secretly mortified to see how little impression he 
 had made on the dark beauty with the haughty smile. This was 
 exactly the kind of defiance that Massingbred never declined, and he 
 determined within himself to attempt the conquest. As the party 
 returned to the drawing-room he asked Lady Dorothea to present 
 him more formally to the young lady, whose acquaintance he had 
 dared to obtrude upon before dinner, but she coldly said : 
 
 "Oh! it's no matter, she's only the governess." An explanation 
 she deemed quite sufficient to subdue any rising feeling of interest 
 regarding her. 
 
 "And the gentleman who sat next her at dinner?" asked he. 
 
 " A 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 Trance was accom- 
 plished in a year or two." 
 
 "With the aid of the guillotine and the 'lanterne,'" said Jack, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Just so ; they used sharp remedies for a quick cure. But I own
 
 THE MAETIls^S OF CEO' MAETIIST. 175 
 
 to you that I have not yet reconciled myself, nor do I see how I 
 shall ever reconcile myself, to intimacy v^'ith a class not only vs^hose 
 habits and instincts, but whose very natures are adverse to our own. 
 That young man now, for instance, they speak of liim 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 we tallied of, and silent where he ought to 
 have been heard with advantage." 
 
 "Is he bashful?" said Jack, with a lazy drawl. 
 
 " I don't think it's that ; at least not altogether." 
 
 " Supercilious, perhaps ?" 
 
 " Oh ! certainly not," replied she, hastily. " The company in 
 which he found himself is the best answer to that. He could not 
 presume " 
 
 "It was, then, downright fear," broke in Massingbred ; "the 
 terror that even clever men cannot 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 higli relatives and connexions in 
 England. It was strange enough that Massingbred's remote alliance 
 with her family was sufficient to induce an intimacy and familiarity 
 Avith him, which years of mere acquaintanceship could not have 
 effected. That his grand-aunt had been a Conway, and his great- 
 grandfather's half-brother was married to a Jernyngham, were all a 
 species of Freemasonry by which he was admitted at once to the 
 privilege of confidential discussion. 
 
 It was no small mortification to Massingbred to spend his evening 
 in these genealogical researches ; he had seen the two young girls 
 move oft" into an adjoining room, from which at times the sounds of 
 a piano, and of voices singing, issued, and was half mad with im- 
 patience to be along with them. However, it was a penalty must be 
 exacted, and he thought that the toll once paid he had secured 
 himself against all demands for the future. 
 
 Not caring to participate in the many intricacies of those family
 
 17G THE MABTINS OF CRO MARTIN. 
 
 discussions wherein the degrees of relationsliip 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 
 voung girls talked, while their fingers strayed along the notes as 
 thouo-h affording a species of involuntary accompaniment to their 
 words. Nelligan, it is true, was present ; but, unnoticed by either, 
 lie sat apart in a distant corner, deep in his own brooding thoughts. 
 
 Mary had only made Miss Henderson's acquaintance on that 
 eveniuf^, but already they were intimate. It was, indeed, no common 
 boon for her to obtain companionship with one of her own age, and 
 who, with the dreaded characteristics of a governess, was in reality a 
 very cliarming 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 it were, illustrative of what she spoke. The 
 delight Mary experienced in listening was unbounded ; and if at 
 moments a sad sense of her own neglected education sliot through her 
 mind, it was forgotten the next instant in lier generous admiration. 
 
 " And how are you, who have seen this bright and brilliant world 
 you speak of," said Mary, "to sit quietly down in this unbroken 
 solitude, where all the interests are of the humblest and more ordinary 
 kind?" 
 
 " You forget that I saw all these things, as it were, on sufferance," 
 replied she. " I was not born to them, nor could ever hope for more 
 than a passing glance at splendours wherein I was not to share. And 
 as for the quiet monotony here, an evening such as this, companion- 
 ship like yours, are just as much above my expectations." 
 
 " 01), no, no 1" cried Mary, eagerly. " Ton were as surely destined 
 for a salon, as I was for the rude adventures of my own wayward 
 life. Tou don't know Avhat a strange existence it is." 
 
 "I have heard, however!" said the other, calmly. 
 
 " Tell me — do tell me — what you liavc been told of me, and don't 
 be afraid of wounding my vanity ; for, I pledge you my woi'd, 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 you as 
 liis succour — one by whose kind intei'vention he earns his daily bread ; 
 their children love you as tlicir 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 :
 
 THE MAETINS OF CIIO' MAHTIN. 177 
 
 " There, they were unjust. The impracticable tempers I have to 
 deal with — the untutored minds and undisciplined natures — often 
 lead me into seeming contradictions." 
 
 "Like the present, perliaps," 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, witli a degree of dignity that seemed 
 to display the sentiment while confessing to it. 
 
 " I have never heard a heavier accusation against Miss Martin than 
 these," said she, "and I have lived with those wlio rarely scruple 
 Low to criticise their betters." 
 
 Mary was silent and thoughtful : she knew not how to interpret 
 the mingled praise and censure she had just listened to. 
 
 " But tell me rather of yourself," said Mary, as though willing to 
 turn the topic of conversation. "I should like to hear your story." 
 
 " At thirteen years of age — I believe even a year later — I was the 
 playfellow of the young gentleman you see yonder," said Kate 
 Henderson, " but who, to-night, seems incapable of remembering any- 
 thing or anybody." 
 
 " Of Mr. Nelligan ?" repeated Mary. And Josepli started as he 
 heard his name, looked up, and again relapsed into reverie. 
 
 " I'm not sure that we were not in love. I almost confess that I. 
 was, when my father sent me away to France to be educated. I was 
 very sad — very, very sad — at being taken away from home and thrown 
 amongst strangers, with none of whom I could even interchange a 
 word ; and I used to sit and cry for hours by myself, and write 
 sorrowful love-letters to "dearest Joseph," and then imagine tho- 
 answers to them ; sometimes I actually wrote them, and would suffer 
 agonies of anguisli before I dared to break the seal and learn the 
 contents. Meanwhile, I was acquiring a knowledge of French, and 
 knew a little of music, and used to sing in our choir at chapel, and 
 learned to believe the world was somewhat larger than I had hitherto 
 thought it, and that St. Gudule was finer than the mean little church 
 at Oughtcrard; and worse still — for it teas worse — that the sous- 
 lieutenants and cadets of the Military College had a mucli more 
 dasliiug, daring look about them than " poor Josepli ;" for so I now 
 called him to myself, and gave up the correspondence soon after. 
 
 "Eemember, 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 
 
 2f
 
 178 THE ilAETIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 •woman, in all the consciousness of certain attractions, clever enough 
 to knoAv that I could read and detect the weak points in others, and 
 weak euougli to fancy that I could always take advantage of them. 
 This incessant spirit of casuistry, tliis passion for investigating the 
 temper of tliose 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 wiiole bent is to ascertain why Sister 
 Agues blushes, or wliy Beatrice fainted twice at the Angelas. The 
 minute anatomy of emotions is a very dangerous topic. At this very 
 moment I cannot free myself from the old habit ; and as I see young 
 Mr. Nelligan there sitting with his head in his hand, so deep in 
 thought as not to notice us, I begin to examine why is it he is thus, 
 and on what is he now brooding ?" 
 
 " And can you guess ?" asked Mary, half eagerly. 
 
 " I could be certain, if I were but to ask him a question or two." 
 
 " Pray do, then, if only to convince me of your skill." 
 
 " But I must be alone, and that is scarcely possible — scarcely be- 
 coming." 
 
 " 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 be- 
 come. I thought at first there was some constraint at meeting me 
 here ; he feared, perhaps, — but no, that Avould be unworthy of him." 
 
 She ceased, for Nelligan had now drawn nigh to where they sat, 
 and stood as if trying to collect liimself to say something. 
 
 " Do you sing, Mr. Nelligan ?" asked Kate. 
 
 " JN'o ; I am ignorant of music," said he, half abstractedly. 
 
 " But you like it ?" asked Mary. 
 
 ** Yes, I believe I do — that is, it calms and quiets me. If I could 
 understand it, it would do more." 
 
 " Then why not understand it, since that is the way you phrase 
 it?" asked Kate. " Everybody can be a musician to a certain de- 
 gree 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 liand and pressed it to her lips for a reply. 
 
 " Foreigners — men, I mean — are all so well aware of this, that they 
 cultivate music as a necessary part of education; few attain high 
 eminence, but all know something of it. But somehow we have got 
 to believe that cultivation in England must always tend to material 
 profit. We learn this, that, and t'other, to be richer, or greater, or
 
 . THE MAETIKS OF CRO' MAETIN, 179 
 
 higHer, but never to be more acceptable iu society — more agreeable 
 or pleasanter company," 
 
 " We haven't time," said Nelligau, gravely. 
 
 " Eor wbat have we not time ? Do you mean we have no time 
 to be happy?" cried llepton, suddenly stepping in amongst them. 
 " 'Now, my dear young ladies, \Yluch of you will bid highest for the 
 heart of an old lawyer — by a song ?" 
 
 " It must be Miss Henderson," said Mary, smiling, " for I don't ' 
 sing." 
 
 " Not a ballad ? — not even one of the Melodies ?" 
 
 " ISTot even one of the Melodies," said she, sorrowfully. 
 
 "Shame upon me for that 'even,'" saidEepton; "but you see 
 what comes of surviving one's generation. I lived in an age when 
 the ' Last Eose of Summer,' and the ' Harp that Once,' were classical 
 as Homer's ' Hymns,' but I have now fallen upon times when English 
 music is estimated in the same category with English cookery, and 
 both deemed very little above barbarous. To be sure," added he, 
 "it does seem very like a poetical justice for the slavish adherence of 
 our education to Greek and Eoman literature, that our ladies should 
 only sing to us in the languages of Italy or Germany." 
 
 " I hope you would not imply that we are as little versed in these 
 as great scholars arc in the others ?" said Kate Henderson, slily, 
 
 " Sharply said. Miss, and truthfully insinuated too ! Not to men- 
 tion that there is courage iu such a speech before Mr. Nelligan 
 here." 
 
 "Yes — very true — a just remark!" said Joseph, who only over- 
 heard a reference to himself without understanding to what it alluded. 
 And now a very joyous burst of laughter from the others startled hiui, 
 while it covered him with confusion. 
 
 " We must make tlaem sing, Nelligan," said Eeptou, gailj". 
 " They'll vanquish us in these tilting matches of word-fence. — Now, 
 Miss Henderson, something very plaintive and very sentimental, to 
 suit the tenderness of a feeling heart." 
 
 " I'll sing for you with pleasure," said Kate. " Will this suit you ?" 
 And with a short prelude she sang one of those brilliant little snatches 
 of Venetian melody, which seem like the outburst of a sudden in- 
 spiration — wild, joyous, floating as they are — wherein such is the ex- 
 pression, that soimds 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 Massiugbred, 
 entering the room hastily ; " and what a glorious thing it is !" 
 
 n2
 
 ISO THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIIT. 
 
 "Then you know this ?" said Kate, running her fingers over the 
 notes, and warbling out another of the popdar airs of the same 
 
 class. 
 
 " The last time I heard that," said Jack, musingly, "was one night 
 when returninf^ home from a late party, along the Grand Canal 
 at Venice. There is a single word at the end of each verse which 
 shoidd be uttered by a second voice. Just as I passed beneath a 
 brilliantly-lighted salon, the sounds of this melody came floating 
 forth, and as the stanza finished I supplied the 'refrain.' " 
 
 " You ?" cried Kate, eagerly. 
 
 " Yes ; but why do you ask ?" 
 
 "Do vou 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 Cour- 
 celles lived there at the time ?" 
 
 " Yes, we passed the winter in that Palace." 
 
 " Miss Henderson was the companion of the young Princess," said 
 Lady Dorothea, who had just joined the group, and experienced no 
 slight shock at observing the tone of easy familiarity in which the 
 conversation was conducted. But Massingbred seemed wonderfully 
 little moved by the intelligence, for, drawing his chair closer to 
 Kate's, he led her to talk of Venice and its life, till, imperceptibly as 
 it were, the discourse glided into Italian ! What a dangerous Free- 
 masonry is the use of a foreign language, lifting the speakers out of 
 the ordinary topics, and leading them away to distant scenes and im- 
 pressions, whicli, 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
 
 THE MABTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. ] 81 
 
 passing lier arm affectionately around her. " What a liappiness 
 must it be to possess such gifts as yours, which, even in their careless 
 exercise, are so graceful. Tell me franlily, is it too late for me to 
 try " 
 
 "Tou overrate me as much as you disparage yourself," said Kate, 
 mildly ; " hut 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 Eepton, stepping in between them ; "and you 
 ought to have a legal opinion as to the clauses — eh, young ladies, am 
 I not right ?" 
 
 " When was Mr. Eepton 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 woebegone faces I ever beheld, his 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 solemnity. 
 
 " I'm half afraid that our showy friend has eclipsed him in your 
 eyes, as I own to you he has in mine, clever fellow that he is." 
 
 "Are you not charmed with yourself that you did not shoot liim 
 this morning?" said Mary, laughing. 
 
 " I am sincerely gratified that he has not shot me, which, taking 
 his pistol performance on the same level with his other acquirements, 
 was not so very improbable !" 
 
 "There's your uncle stealing away to bed," said Eepton, "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 mider 
 discussion is, ' Whether you or Mr. Massingbred were the more suc- 
 cessful to-day ?' " 
 
 " I think Mr. Massingbred may claim tlie prize," said Mary 
 Martin, with a sly whisper; "he made Lady Dorothea cry." 
 
 " Ay," said Eepton, " but /made young Nelligau laugh !" 
 
 And now the party broke up, Massingbred lingering a little be- 
 hind to say something to Miss Henderson, and then betaking him- 
 self 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 iiis sentiments. The letter was
 
 182 THE MAETI>-S OE CEO' MAETII?:. 
 
 written, directing certain articles of dress to be forwarded to him at 
 once, by coacb, and contained these paragraphs : 
 
 " You now know how I came here : the next thing is to tell you of 
 the place itself. The house is large and admirably ' montee'— abun- 
 dance of servants, well drilled, and orderly. The master a nonentity, 
 apparently; easy-tempered and good-humoured; liking the quiet 
 monotony of his humdrum life, and only asking that it may not be 
 interfered with. His wife, a fine lady of the school of five-and-forty 
 years ago— a nervous terrorist about mob encroachments and the 
 democratic tendencies of the times— insufferably tiresome on gene- 
 alogies and 'connexions,' and what many Avould call downright 
 vulgar in the amount of her pretension. Gratitude — for I have the 
 honour of being a favourite already— seals my lips against any fur- 
 ther or harsher criticism. As for the niece, she is decidedly hand- 
 some ; a great deal of style about her too ; and with a degree of— 
 shall I call it daring ? for it is more like courage than any other 
 quality— that tells you she is the uncontrolled ruler over the wild 
 regions and wild people around her, "With more of manner, she 
 would be veiy charming ; but perhaps she is better in the unfettered 
 freedom of her own capricious independence : it certainly suits her 
 to perfection. And now I should have completed my catalogue, if 
 it were not for the Governess. Ay, Harry, the Governess ! And 
 just fancy, under this uniraposing title, a dark-eyed, haughty-looking 
 girl — I don't think she can be above twenty or tAventy-one — with a 
 carriage and port that might suit an Archduchess of Austria. She 
 has travelled all over Europe— been everj-where— seen everything, 
 and, stranger again, everybody ; for she was what they style a com- 
 panion. 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 you Jack Massingbred does not fall in 
 love — the very phrase implies it must be beneath one — but I already 
 see that if such a girl were a Lady Catherine, or a Lady Agnes, with 
 a father in the Upper House, and two brothers in the ' Lower,' 
 her dowry anything you like above thirty thousand — that, in short, 
 even Jack himself might exhibit the weakness of inferior mortals — 
 for she is precisely one of those types that are ever looking upward — 
 a girl with a high ambition, I'll be sworn, and formed to make the
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' 5IAETIS'. 183 
 
 man, -whose fortunes she shared, stand forward in the ran and dis- 
 tinguish himself. 
 
 " These are our whole dramatis persona, if I include an old Bar- 
 rister, with a racy humour and a strong stock of Bar anecdotes ; and 
 Young Xelligan, the Medal man, whom you quizzed me so much for 
 noticiog in Dublin. Touwere right then, Harry ; he is a low fellow, 
 and I was wrong in ever thinking hitn otherwise. I chanced upon his 
 father's acquaintance rather oddly; and the son has not forgiven it. 
 "WTien we met here, yesterday, he fancied that we were to speak, 
 and was actually rushing forward to shake hands with the most 
 enthusiastic warmth ; hut with that manner which you have often 
 admired, and once encouraged, when you called me the ' Cool of the 
 day,' I pulled him up dead short, stared, and passed on. At dinner, 
 I managed to ignore him so utterly that everybody else fell into 
 the trap, and he dined as a Tutor, or the Chaplain, or the Agent's 
 son might — mingling his sighs with the soup, and sipping his claret 
 in all dreariness. 
 
 " Ton will see, even from these hasty lines, that there is enough 
 here to interest and amuse ; food for observation, and opportiuiity 
 for malice. What can a man want more? The 'joint and the 
 pickles.' They have asked me to stay, — they haA'e 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 gestce, and learn all that befals 
 
 '• Jack ^Iassijtgbeed. 
 
 " • • • • "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 — for- 
 ward them here. I am, or I shall soon be, in want of money ; and as 
 I have overdrawn my allowance already, I shall be obliged to issue 
 bonds, bearing a certain interest. Can you recommend me to a safe 
 capitalist ? — not Tordyce — nor Ilenniker — 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 un- 
 sullied paper, is absolutely valueless when the words ' Jack Massing- 
 bred ' are inscribed beneath. Trv, and, if vou can, solve this curious 
 problem. 
 
 " At aU 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."
 
 184 THE MAETINS OF CEO' ilAETIN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 STATECRAFT. 
 
 It wag a cabinet council; they were met in Lady Dorothea's 
 boudoir, Martin and Mr. Ilepton being summoned to her presence. 
 A letter had that morning reached her Ladyship from a very high 
 quarter ; the writer was the Marquis of Eeckington, a very distant 
 connexion, 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 Cliristian forgiveness as she broke the 
 seal of an epistle from one who liad left several of her own without 
 answers, and even replied to her application for a Staff appointment 
 for her son, by a cold assurance that these were times when " nothing 
 but fitness and superior qualifications entitled any man to advance- 
 ment in the public service." Oh dear, were there ever any other 
 times since the world was made ! Is not merit the only passport to 
 place? and high desert and capacity the sole recommendation to 
 favour? Of all the immense advantages of a representative govern- 
 ment, is there any more conspicuous than the unerring certainty with 
 which men of ability rise to eminence without other aid than their 
 own powers ; and that, in a system like ours, family influence, wealth, 
 name, connexions, and Parliamentary support, are just so much mere 
 dross ? 
 
 If any one be incredulous of the virtue of public men, let him only 
 ask for a place ; let him entreat his great friend — everybody has at 
 least one great friend — mine is a Coroner — to make him a Junior 
 Lord, or a Vice-Something, and see what the answer will be. Polite, 
 certainly ; notliing more so ; but what a rebuke to self-seeking ! — what 
 a stern chastisement to the ignorant presumption that places are 
 awarded by means of favour, or tliat 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 niglits 
 in balancing the claims of treasury clerks, and that Lord Chancellors 
 suffer agonies in weighing the merits of barristers of six years' stand- 
 ing. " "We have but one rule for our guidance : the best man in the 
 best place." A high-sounding maxim, which it would be excessively
 
 THE MAETIIS'S OF CEO' MAETIIT. 18o 
 
 uncivil to disparage by asking wliafc constitutes " a best man," Is 
 he some unscrupulous partisan, who first gave his fortune, and after- 
 wards his fame, to the support of a party ? Is he tlie indisputable 
 disposer of three, or perhaps four, votes in the House ? Is he a 
 floating buoy to be anchored in either roadstead of politics, and only 
 to be secured to either, for a consideration ? Is he the dangerous 
 confidant of some damaging transaction ? Or is he the deserter from 
 a camp, where his tx'eason may sow disaffection ? These several 
 qualifications have ere this served to make up "a best man;" and, 
 strangely enough, are gifts which fit him for the Army, the Navy, the 
 Home Service, or the Colonies. 
 
 Let us turn from this digression, into which we have fallen half 
 inadvertently, and read over some parts of Lord Reckiugton's letter. 
 It was somewhat difficult to decipher, as most great men's letters 
 are, and displayed in more than one place the signs of correction. 
 Although it had been, as we have said, a very long time since any 
 correspondence had occurred between the " cousins," his Lordship 
 resumed the intercourse as though not a week had intervened. After 
 a little playful chiding over the laxity of her Ladyship's writing habits 
 — three of hers had been left unreplied to ! — and some of that small 
 gossip of family changes and events, never interesting to any but the 
 direct actors, his Lordship approached the real topic of his letter ; 
 and, as he did so, his writing grew firmer, and larger, and bolder, 
 like the voice of a man who spoke of what truly concerned him : 
 
 " I thought, my dear Dora, I had done with it all. I flattered 
 myself that I had served my time in public capacities, and that 
 neither tlie Crown nor its advisers could reasonably call upon me for 
 further sacrifices. Toic know how little to my taste were either the 
 cares or ambitions of office. In fact, as happens to most men who 
 are zealous for the public service, my official career imposed far more 
 of sacrifices than it conferred privileges. Witness the occasions in 
 which I was driven to reject the claims of my nearest and dearest 
 friends, in compliance with that nervous terror of imputed favouritism 
 so fatal to all in power ! I thought, as I have said, that they had no 
 fair claim u])on mo any longer. I asked nothing; indeed, many 
 tliought I was wrong there. But so it was, I quitted office without 
 a pension, and without a ribbon ! It was late on a Saturday evening, 
 however, when a Cabinet messenger arrived at ' Beech "Woods' with 
 an order for me to repair at once to Windsor. I was far from well ; 
 but there was no escape. Immediately on arriving I was summoned 
 to tlie presence, and before I had paid my respects, his Majesty, 
 who was much excited, said, ' Eeckiugton, we want you. Tou
 
 186 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 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 Avill accept of. You shall go to Ireland!' The King then 
 entered with considerable warmth, but with all his o^vn remark- 
 able perspicuity, into a detail of late changes and events in the 
 
 Cabinet. He was excessively irritated with B , and spoke of 
 
 G as one whom he never could forgive. He repeatedly said, 
 
 ' I have been duped — I have been tricked ;' and, in fact, exhibited a 
 degree of emotion which, combined with the unbounded frankness 
 of his manner towards me, affected me almost to tears. Of course, 
 my dear Dora, personal considerations ceased at once to have any 
 hold upon me, and I assured his Majesty that the remainder of my 
 life was freely at his disposal, more than requited, as it already was, 
 by the precious confidence he had, that day, reposed in me. I must 
 not weary you with details. I accepted and kissed hands as Viceroy 
 on Monday morning ; since that I have been in daily communication 
 
 with G , who still remains in office. "We have discussed Ireland 
 
 from morning to night, and I hope and trust have at last come to a 
 thorough understanding as to the principles which must guide the 
 future Administration. These I reserve to talk over with you when 
 we meet ; nor do I hesitate to say that I anticipate the very greatest 
 benefit in the fruits of your long residence and great powers of 
 observation of this strange people." The letter here went oft" iuto a 
 somewhat long-winded profession of the equal-handed justice which 
 was to marlv 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 sus- 
 picious 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 sym- 
 pathy. To the worthy country gentleman — iiidependent by. fortune 
 as well as by principle — extending the example of a blameless life to 
 a large 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. Ton now know in what ranks we wish to see our friends,
 
 THE ilAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. IS? 
 
 in the very van of wbicli array I reckon npon yourself." "We sliall 
 ao-ain skip a little, since here the writer diverged into a slight dis- 
 sertation on the indissoluble ties of kindred, and the links, stronger 
 than adamant, that bind those of one blood together. After a brief 
 but rapid survey of the strong opposition which was to meet them, 
 he went on : " Of course all will depend upon our Parliamentary 
 support ; without a good working majority we cannot stand, and for 
 this must we use all our exertions." A few generalities on the com- 
 fort and satisfaction resulting from " safe divisions " ensued, and then 
 came the apparently careless question, " What can i/ou do for us ? 
 Tes, my dear Dora, I repeat, what can i/02c do for us ? What we 
 need, is the support of men who have courage enough to merge old 
 prejudices and old convictions in their full trust in us ; who, with the 
 intelligence of true statesmanship, will comprehend the altered con- 
 dition of the country, and not endeavour to adapt the nation to their 
 views, but rather their views to the nation. In a word, a wise and 
 liberal policy, not based \ipon party watchwords and antiquated 
 symbols, but on the prospect of seeing Ireland great and united. 
 Now, will Martin come to our aid in this wise ? He ought to be in 
 Parliament for his County. But if he be too indolent, or too happy 
 at home, whom can he send us ? And again, what of the borough? 
 They tell me that Kilcock, seeing his father's great age, will not 
 stand where a contest might be expected, so that you must neces- 
 saxily be prepared with another." 
 
 Again the writer launched out upon the happiness he felt at being 
 able to appeal thus candidly and freely to his own " dearest kins- 
 woman," inviting her to speak as frankly in return, and to believe that 
 no possible difference 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 liandkcrchicf to her eyes. 
 
 As for Martin, he sat still and motionless, his gaze firmly directed 
 to Eepton, as though seeking in the impassive lines of the old 
 lawyer's face for some clue to guide and direct him. 
 
 " Tou used to be a Tory, Martin ?" said Eeption, after a pause. 
 
 "Tes, 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 Eeckiugton may be able to say, I 
 cannot. I only know that they exist no longer, and the great question
 
 188 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 for you — at least one of the great questions — is, have you spirit 
 enough to join a travelling party witliout knowing whither they're 
 journeying?" 
 
 "And what may be the other great question, Sir?" asked Lady 
 Dorothea, haughtily. 
 
 " The other is, wliat will it cost in money ? — ay, my Lady, in 
 money — because any otlier outla}^ 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 Eepton. 
 
 "A few hundreds would suffice; at least they have done so 
 hitherto." 
 
 " Then remain content with the cheap luxury of the Borough," 
 said Eepton. " You don't want anytliing from these people, Martin. 
 Xou don't covet a Peerage — you wouldn't accept a Baronetcy. Ton 
 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 Eoyal favour to 
 commute the sentence into Knighthood, so that the disgrace may die 
 with me.' " 
 
 " There were times when sucli insolence would have cost him 
 dearly," said her Ladyship, sternly. 
 
 "I am not sorry that we don't live in them, my Lady," replied 
 Eepton. " But to return : as I was saying, you ask for no favours ; 
 why should you expend ten or fifteen thousand pounds to advocate 
 views of wliose 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 tliat your Ladyship should have read me so justly," 
 said Repton, bowing. 
 
 An insolent toss of her head was the significant answer to this 
 speccli. 
 
 " But were I to speak my mind more candidly, I'd even say, let the 
 Borough go after the County ; and for this plain reason," said 
 Eepton, speaking witli increased firmness and animation, " you 
 ncitlier seek for^the ambition of political life, nor want to make a trade 
 of its casualties."
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO MARTIN. 189 
 
 " Is it not possible, Sir, that Tve niiglit desire the natui-al influence 
 tLat sliould arise out of our station in society and our rank in this 
 county ?" said Lady Dorothea, proudly. 
 
 " And your Ladyship has it, and can never lose it. Having a vote or 
 two to throw into a Ministerial division would never repay you for the 
 anxieties and cares of contested elections. Ah, my Lady, what do 
 you care for the small flatteries of London attentions." 
 
 " "We should have these, Sir, as our right," broke she in. 
 
 " To be sure you would, and much happiness do I hope they would 
 confer," added he, in a tone only overheard by Martin ; then con- 
 tinued aloud: "As to the patronage at your disposal, would you take 
 a present of it ? Whom do you want to make Tide-waiters, Graugers, 
 Barony Constables, or even Clerks of the Peace ? Of all men living, 
 who is so free of bungiy 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 Eeptou. 
 " Martin is a Tory ; now, what are the men coming into power ? I 
 wish you could tell me. Here, for instance, is one of their own 
 journals" — and he opened a newspaper and ran his eye over the 
 columns — " ay, here it is : ' AVith regard to Ireland, Lord Ileckiugtou'a 
 appointment as Viceroy is the best guarantee that the rights of Irish- 
 men of every persuasion and every denomination will be respected.' 
 So far so good ;" and he read on in a low, humdrum voice for some 
 minutes, till he came to the following : " ' No privileged class will any 
 longer be tolerated — no exceptional loyalty admitted as an excuse for 
 insuflerable 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.' JSTow, Martin, 
 you want no augur to interpret that oracle. They are going to rule 
 you by the people ; but the people must be represented. Now, who 
 represents them ? Not the demagogue — he is merely their tool ; the 
 real representative is tlic Priest — don't laugh, my dear friend, at such 
 a shadowy possibiUty, the tiling is nearer than you dream of. No 
 Administration ever yet tried to govern Ireland except by intimida- 
 tion ; the Beresfords were undertakers once, and they did their work 
 very well, let me tell you — they advanced their friends and wdiipped 
 their enemies; and what with peerages for one set, and pitched caps for
 
 190 TUE MAUTINS OF CEO' ILiETIS". 
 
 tlie otlier, tliey ruled Irelaud. 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, talk- 
 ative fools, who always had the masses with them because they were 
 fools. Still they ruled Ireland. They preserved the country to the 
 King's crown ; and I say once more, that was no small matter. And 
 now we have arrived at a new era : we have obtained Emancipation, 
 and must look out for another stamp of administrators, and I see 
 nothing for it but the Priests. Of course you, and everj^ man of 
 your station, sneer at the notion of being dictated to by Father 
 Luke, in the greasy leather small-clothes and dirty black boots — 
 only, himself, a cottier once removed — a plant of the wild growth 
 of the fields, cultivated, however, in the hotbeds of Maynooth — a 
 forcing-house whose fruits you are yet to taste of! Sneer away," 
 Mai'tin ; 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 
 Beresfords, and Tottenhams, and TisdaUs never dreamed of ! They'll 
 treat with the Grovernment on equal terms — so much, for so much, — 
 and, what's more, it won't be higgling for a place, here, or a peerage, 
 there ; but they'll have the price paid down in hard legislative coin — 
 Acts of Parliament, Sir, — privileges for themselves and their order, — 
 benefits to ' the Church,' — and, when nothing better or more tempt- 
 ing ofiers, insults and slights to their antagonists. Ton, and all like 
 you, will be passed over as if you never existed : the Minister will 
 not need you : you'll be so many general officers on the retired list, 
 and only remarked when you swell the crowd at a levee." 
 
 " So, Sir, according to this special prediction of yours, we have 
 nothing left us but to live on our estates, enjoy what we can of our 
 fortunes, and leave the interests of the nation to those our inferiors 
 in rank, station, and property ?" 
 
 "Such a period as your Ladyship has pictured forth — a little 
 strongly, perhaps — is before you. "Whether the inter^-al be destined 
 to be long or short, will, in great measure, depend upon yourselves." 
 
 "That agrees with what Scanlan said the other day," said Martin. 
 
 " Scanlan !" echoed her Ladyship, with most profound contempt. 
 
 "Who is this Scanlan ?" asked E,epton. 
 
 " 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, mi/ 
 word for it ! he is a rare judge of a hack." 
 
 " And, now that you suggest it," said Eepton, musingly, " what an 
 instinctive shrewdness there is on every subject — I don't care what
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 191 
 
 it is— about fellows tliat deal iu liorseflesli. The j)ractice of buying 
 and selling, searcliing oat flaws, here, detecting defects, there, gives a 
 degree of suspectfid sharpness in all transactions ; besides that, really 
 none but a naturally clever fellow ever graduates in the stable. Tou 
 smile, uiy Lady, but some of our very first men have achieved the 
 triumphs of the turf." 
 
 " Shall we have Scanlan in and hear the news ?" asked Martin. 
 • " Not here. If you please, you may receive him in the library, or 
 your own room." 
 
 " Then, come along, llepton. "We can resume this affair in the 
 afternoon, or to-morrow." And, without waiting for a reply, he 
 passed his arm within the other's and led him away. " You have 
 been too abrupt with her, Eepton ; you have not made due allow- 
 ances for her attachment to family influences," said he, in a whisper, 
 as they went along. 
 
 Eeptou smiled half contemptuously. 
 
 " Oh, it's all very easy for you to laugh, my dear fellow, but, trust 
 me, there's nothing to be done with my Lady in that fashion." 
 
 " Turn the flank — eh ?" said the old Lawyer, 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 encum- 
 brances, new loans, and new debts " 
 
 " Hush !" said Martin, cautiously. ^ 
 
 " Then, I say, let me prevent the casualty, that's all." 
 
 "How are you, Scanlan?" said Martin, as the attorney came, 
 bowing and smiling, forward to pay his respects. " My friend, Mr. 
 Hepton, wishes to make your acquaintance." 
 
 " I have the honour of being known to Mr. Eepton already, Sir, if 
 he has not forgotten me." 
 
 "Eh — how? where?" cried the Lawyer, sharply. 
 
 " In Eeevcs versus Dockery and another. Sir, in Hilary, 2-1'. It 
 was /supplied the instructions " 
 
 " To be sure — perfectly right. Maurice Scanlan ; isn't that the 
 name ? Tou did the thing well, Sir ; and if we failed, we retreated 
 without dishonour." 
 
 " That was a grand shot you fired at the Bench, Sir, wlieu all was 
 over," said Scanlan. " I don't suppose they over got sucli a com- 
 plete ' set down' before." 
 
 "I forget it," said Eepton, 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, 
 "Tlic Chief Baron it was," said ho, addressing Martin, "that over-
 
 192 THE MIBTINS OF CRO MARTIN. 
 
 ruled every objection made by Counsellor Eepton, 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 Eeports, page 
 
 1138.' 
 
 " ' I don't care where it is, Sir,' was the answer. 
 
 " ' In a charge delivered by Lord Eldon ' 
 
 " ' Oh, let us hear my Lord Eldon,' said Plumridge, the Puisne 
 .] udge, who was rather ashamed of the Chief Baron's severity. ' Let 
 us hear my Lord Eldon.' 
 
 " ' Here it is, my Lords,' said the Counsellor, opening the volume, 
 and laying his hand upon the page, ' Crewe aud Fust's Pleas of 
 tlie Crowu, page 1438. My Lord Eldou says : " I may here observe 
 the Courts of Law in Ireland are gcnemlly wrong ! The Court of 
 Exchequer is always wrong!" ' " 
 
 Eepton tried to smother his own delighted laugh at tlie remi- 
 niscence, but all in vain, it burst from him long and joyously ; and 
 as he shook Scanlan's hand, he said, " The incident loses nothing by 
 your telling, Sir ; you have done it admirable justice." 
 
 " You make me very proud indeed, Counsellor," said Scanlau, who 
 really did look overjoyed at tlie speech. 
 
 "Have you any news for us, Scanlan?" said Martiu, as they 
 entered the Library. 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; the Ministry is out." 
 
 " We know that already, man !" 
 
 " And the Marquis of Eeckington comes here as Lord-Lieuteuant." 
 
 " That we know also." 
 
 " Colonel Massingbred to bo Chief Sec " 
 
 "Moore Massinirbred !" cried both in a breath. 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; he that was a Treasury Lord." 
 
 "Are you quite sure of this, Scanlan ?" asked Martin. 
 
 " I had it from Groves, Sir, at the Castle, yesterday morning, who 
 told me there would be an immediate dissolution ; and showed me a 
 list of Government candidates." 
 
 "You may talk them all over together, then," said Martiu, "for 
 I'm heartily tired of politics this morning." And, so saying, he left 
 them.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN, 193 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A STUDIO. 
 
 It is one of the most inestimable privileges of Art, that amidst all 
 the cares and contentions of the world, amidst strife, and war, and 
 carnage, its glorious realm is undisturbed, its peace unbroken, and 
 its followers free to follow their own wayward fancies, without let or 
 hinderance. Tour great Practical Intelligences — your men of Com- 
 mittees, and Corn, and Railroads, and Ship-canals — sneer at the 
 fictitious life, for so does it seem to them, of the mei-e painter or 
 musician. They have a sort of pitying estimate for capacities only 
 exercised upon the ideal, and look down with a very palpable con- 
 tempt upon those whose world is a gallery or an orchestra. 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 man- 
 kind a far more pleasing and harmonious structure than we should 
 otherwise have seen it. The imaginative is to the actual, in the world 
 of active life, what flowers are to nutritious herbs and roots. It is the 
 influence thnt adorns, elevates, and embellishes existence. That such 
 gifts have been confided to certain individuals is in itself a sufiicient 
 evidence, just as we see in the existence of flowers, that pleasure has 
 its place assigned in the grand scheme of creation, and that the 
 happiness which flows from gratified sense has not been denied us. 
 
 In that petty world which lived beneath the roof of Cro' Martin 
 Castle, all the eager passions and excitements of political intrigue 
 were now at work. My Lady was full of plans for future greatness ; 
 Lepton was scheming, and suggesting, and thwarting everybody in 
 turn ; and even Martin himself, engulphed in the " Maelstrom" of the 
 crisis, was roused into a state of semi-preparation that amounted to a 
 condition of almost fever. As for Massingbred, w hatever he really did 
 feel, his manner affected a most consummate indifi'ercnce to all that 
 went forward ; nor did the mention of his father's appointment to 
 high offloe elicit from him anything beyond a somewhat contemptuous 
 opinion of the new party in power. While, therefore, secret councils 
 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 
 
 o
 
 19J. THE MARTINS OF CEO MARTIN. 
 
 Mr. Crow's use for the completion of the Grand Historical, -which 
 had lately been transferred from Kilkieran to its place there. 
 
 The unlucky masterpiece was doomed to many a difficulty. The 
 great events in prospect had totally banished all thoughts of " Art" 
 from Lady Dorothea's mind. The fall of a recent Administration was 
 a far more immiuent circumstance than the abdication of a King a few 
 centuries back. Martin of course had enough on his head, without 
 tlie cares of mock royalty. Mary was overwhelmed with occupations : 
 the floods, and a threatened famine were casualties not to be over- 
 looked, and she was absent every day from dawn to late night ; 
 wliile, to complete the list of defaulters, Young Nelligan — the future 
 Prince of Orange of the picture— was gone ! 
 
 Men deplore their past youth, their bygone buoyancy of heart, their 
 old loves and extinct friendships, but of all departed pleasures, there 
 is a peculiar poignancy about one, and that is an artist's grief over a 
 " lost sitter." You Ladies and Gentlemen whose thumbs have never 
 closed on a palette, nor whose fingers have never felt the soft in- 
 fluence of varnish, may smile at such a sorrow, but take my word for 
 it, it is a real and tangible affliction. 
 
 Tbe waving locks, the noble brow, the deep square orbits, and the 
 finely-cut chin, are but the subtle suggestions out of which inspira- 
 tions are begotten and poetic visions nurtured. The graceful bearing 
 and the noble port, the tender melancholy or the buoyant gladness, 
 have each in turn struck some chord of secret feeling in the artist's"* 
 breast, revealing to him new ideas of beauty, and imparting that 
 creative power which displays itself in new combinations. 
 
 Poor Simmy Crow was not a Titian nor a Vandyke, but unhappily 
 the sorrows of genius are very often experienced by those who are 
 not gifted with its greatness, and the humble aspirant of excellence 
 can catch every malady to which the triumphant in all the wild 
 enthusiasm of his powers is exposed. He sat down before his canvas, 
 as some general might have done before a fortified town, which had 
 resisted all his efforts of attack. He was depressed and discouraged. 
 
 The upper part of the young student's head was already half 
 finished, and there was enough done to impart a kind of promise of 
 success, that glorious vista Mhich 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 la,id 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
 
 THE MABTINS OF CRO' MAUTIN. ] 95 
 
 arose a new impediment. *'Ah! Simmy, Simmy," lie 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 stealtliily 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 
 Eembrandt." 
 
 " Very true. Ma'am — Miss, I mean. I have copied nearly all his 
 great pieces." 
 
 " And the drapery — that robe of the King's — tells me that you have 
 studied another great master of colour ; am I right, Sir, in saying 
 Paul Veronese?" 
 
 Simmy Crow's face glowed till it became crimson, while his eyes 
 sparkled with intense delight. 
 
 " Oh dear me !" he exclaimed, "isn't it too much happiness to hear 
 this, and only a minute ago I was in black despair !" 
 
 " Mine is very humble criticism, Sir, but as I have seen good pic- 
 tures " 
 
 " Where ? In the Galleries abroad ?" broke in Crow, hurriedly. 
 
 " All over Germany and Italy. I travelled with those who really 
 cared for and understood Art. But to come back to yours — that head 
 is a noble study." 
 
 "And that's exactly Avhat 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 say- 
 ing 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 
 ha-ve been able to withdraw yourself sufficiently from the ordinary 
 
 o2
 
 196 THE MA.IITINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 events of life as to make up a little world of your own, wherein you 
 lived iudifferent to passing incidents ?' 
 
 " ' Yes,' said I, ' I have, whenever I was doing anytliing really- 
 worth the name.' 
 
 " ' And at such times,' said he again, 'you cared nothing, or next 
 to uothiua:, for either the flatteries or the sarcasms of those around 
 you ?' 
 
 "'I couldn't mind them,' said I, 'for I never so much as heard 
 them.' 
 
 " ' Exactly what I mean,' said he, rapidly. ' Intent upon higher 
 ambitions, you were above the petty slights of malice or envy, and 
 with your own goal befoi'e you, were steeled against the minor casual- 
 ties 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, with 
 a dash of bluish grey over it — half sky, half atmosphere, and I daub 
 away till something like an effect — maybe a sunset, maybe a sullen- 
 looking sea-shore, maybe a long, low prairie swell rises before me. I 
 don't try for details, I don't even trace an outline, but just throw in 
 au 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 ray spirits ; for, as there are sounds that, swelling up, fill the 
 whole nature of a man with ecstasy, there are combinations of colour 
 and tint that enter tlie brain by the eve, and just produce the same 
 sense of delight.' " 
 
 "And how did he accept your consolation?" asked she, smiling 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 " I don't well know if he listened to me," said Simmy, sorrowfully ; 
 " for all he said afterwards was, 
 
 " ' Well, Mr. Crow, good-by. I hope you'll come to see me when 
 you visit Dublin. You'll easily find out mv 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
 
 m
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAKTIN. 197 
 
 have been very difficult to pronounce whether the words were of 
 kindness or of disparagement. 
 
 " And your Prince, Mr. Crow ?" said she, changing '' ^r tone to 
 one of real or affected interest ; " what's to be done now that Mr. 
 Nelligan has left us^?" 
 
 " I'm thinking of making a background figure of him, Miss," said 
 Simmy; " Burnt sienna reduces many an illustrious individual to an 
 obscure position." 
 
 " But why not ask Mr. IMassingbred to take his place — you've 
 seen him ?" 
 
 " Only passing the window. Miss. He is a handsome young man, 
 but that same look of fashion, the dash of style about him, is exactly 
 what destroys the face for me. I feel I could make nothing of it ; 
 I'd be always thinking of him standing inside the plate-glass window 
 of a London Club, or cantering along the alleys of the Park, or 
 sipping his iced lemonade at Tortoni's. There's no poetizing your 
 man of gold chains and embroidered waistcoats !" 
 
 " I half suspect you are unjust in this case," said she, with one of 
 her dubious smiles. 
 
 "I'm only saying what the effect is upon myself, Miss," said 
 Crow. 
 
 " But why not make a compromise between the two ?" said she. 
 " I believe the great painters — Vandyke, certainly — rarely took the 
 studies from a single head. They caught a brow here, and a mouth 
 there, harmonising the details by the suggestions of their own genius. 
 Xow, what if preserving all this here" — and she pointed to the head 
 and eyes — "you were to fill up the remainder, partly from imagina- 
 tion, 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. 
 
 " Ob, go on; that's admirable — that's glorious!" exclaimed Crow, 
 wild with delight. 
 
 " There is no necessity to lose the expi-ession 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 slie spoke, while Crow 
 busied himself in preparing the colours \ipon the palette. 
 
 "My hardihood is only intended to encourage you, Mr. Crow," 
 said she, " by showing that if one like me can point the road, the 
 journey need not be deemed a difiicult one." As she retired some
 
 198 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 paces to contemplate tlie picture, she casually glanced through a low 
 glass door Avhicli opened upon the lawn, and where, under the shelter 
 of a leafy beech, a young country girl was standing ; her blue cloth 
 cloak, with the hood thrown over her head, gave a certain picturesque 
 character to the figure, which nearer inspection more than confirmed, 
 for her features were singularly fine, and her large, soft, blue eyes 
 beamed with a gentle earnestness, that showed Kate she was there 
 with a purpose. 
 
 Opening the door at once, Kate Henderson approached her, and 
 asked what she wanted. 
 
 "With an air of half pride, half shame, tiie country girl drew herself 
 up, and stared full and steadfastly at tlie speaker, and so continued 
 till Kate repeated her question. 
 
 " Sure you're not Miss Mary ?" replied she, by questioning her in 
 turn. 
 
 " No, but if I can be of any use to you " 
 
 "I don't think you can," broke she in with a manner almost 
 haughty ; " it's somebody else I'm wanting." 
 
 " If you wish to see Miss Martin, I'll go and fetch her," said Kate. 
 
 " I 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. " 1 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 tliiuk I can guess now," said Kate, smiling. " It is the 
 Counsellor from Dublin, Mr. Eepton." 
 
 " It is no such thing," said the girl, promptly. 
 
 ** Then it must be Mr. Crow here." 
 
 An indignant toss of the head gave the negative to this surmise. 
 
 "I have gone through all our names here," said Kate; "and, ex- 
 cept Mr. Massingbred " 
 
 " And there's the very one I want," said the girl, boldly. 
 
 " Step in here and rest yourself, and I'll send for him," said Kate ; 
 and with such persuasive courtesy were the words uttered, that 
 almost, as it seemed, against her very will, the girl followed her into 
 the studio and sat down. "While Mr. Crow proceeded in search of 
 Massingbred, Kate Henderson, resuming brush and palette, returned 
 to her painting ; not, however, on the grand canvas of the " His- 
 torical," but dexterously interposing a piece of fresh board, she
 
 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MARTIK. 199 
 
 seized the opportunity to sketch the beautiful head then before her, 
 while occupying the girl's attention with the objects around. 
 
 Notwithstanding her intense astonishment at all she saw, the 
 country girl never uttered a word, nor vouchsafed a single question 
 as to the paintings ; she even tried to moderate the eager pleasure 
 they afforded by an endeavoiir 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 cha- 
 racter of her beauty, and Kate caught up the expression so rapidly, 
 that her sketch was already well-nigh completed when. Massingbred 
 entered. 
 
 " My dear Mistress Joan," cried he, shaking her cordially by both 
 hands, " how glad I am to see you again. It was but this very 
 moment I was inquiring how I could go over and pay you a visit." 
 
 Hurriedly as these words were uttex'ed, and in all the apparent 
 fervour of hearty sincerity, they were accompanied by a shoi't glance 
 at Kate Henderson, who was about to leave the room, that plainly 
 said, "Remain where you are, there is no mystery here." 
 
 "I thank yer Honer kindly," said Joan Landy, "but it's no good 
 coming, he isn't there." 
 
 " Not there ! — how and wliy is that ?" 
 
 " Sure you ought to know better than ;»<?," said she, fixing her large 
 eyes full upon him. " Ye left the house together, and lie never came 
 back since, 
 
 5J 
 
 " 01], perhaps I can guess," said Jack, pausing for a moment to 
 reflect. " He might have deemed it safer to keep out of the way for 
 a day or two." 
 
 " It's no good deceivin' me. Sir," said she, rising from her seat; 
 " tell me the whole truth. Where is he ?" 
 
 " That is really more than I can say, my dear Mistress Joan. "We 
 parted in Oughterard." 
 
 " And you never saw him after ?" 
 
 " Never, I assure you." 
 
 " And you never tried to see him ? — you never asked what became 
 of him?" 
 
 "I concluded, indeed I was certain, that he returned home," said 
 Jack, but not without some confusion. 
 
 "Ay, that was enough for you," said she, angrily. "If you were 
 a poor 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 gentle- 
 man "
 
 200 THE MAUTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 " 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 uujust you've been." And, drawing his chair closer to hers, 
 he narrated in a low and whispering voice the few events of their 
 morning at Oughterard, and read for her the short note Magennis 
 had written to him. 
 
 " And is that all ?" exclaimed Joan, when he concluded. 
 "All, upon my honour !" said he, solemnly. 
 
 "Oh, then, wirra! wirra!" said she, ringing 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 Honer knows well what he is to 
 me .'" And she covered her face with her hands. 
 
 " You have done nothing wrong in coming here," said Jack, con- 
 solingly, 
 
 "Not if he never hears of it," said she, in a voice tremulous with 
 fear. 
 
 " That he need never do," rejoined Jack ; " though I cannot see 
 why he should object to it. But come, Mrs. Joan, don't let this fret 
 you ; here's a young lady will tell you, as I have, that nobody could 
 possibly blame your natural anxiety." 
 
 " What would a young lady know about a poor creature like me?'''' 
 exclaimed Joan, dejectedly. " Sure, from the day she's born, she never 
 felt what it was to be all alone and friendless !" 
 
 " You little guess to whom you say that," said Kate, turning round 
 and gazing on her calmly ; " but if the balance were struck this 
 minute, take my word for it, you'd have the better share of fortune." 
 Jack Massingbred's cheek quivered slightly as he heard these words, 
 and his eyes were bent upon the speaker with an intense meaning. 
 Kate, however, turned haughtily away from the gaze, and coldly re- 
 minded him that Mrs. Joan should have some refreshment after her 
 long walk. 
 
 " No miss — no yer Honor ; many thanks for the same," said Joan, 
 drawing her cloak around her, " I couldn't eat a bit — my heart's heavy 
 inside me. I'll go back now." 
 
 Kate tried to persuade her to take something, or at least to rest a 
 little longer, but she was resolute, and eager to return. 
 
 "Shall we bear you company part of the way, then?" said Jack, 
 with a look of half entreaty towards Kate." 
 
 "I shall be but too happy," said Kate, while she turned the nearly- 
 completed sketch to the wall, but not so rapidly as to prevent Mas- 
 singbred's catching a glimpse of it.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 201 
 
 "How like!" exclaimed he, but only in a whisper audible to him- 
 self. " I didn't know that this, also, was one of your accomplishments." 
 
 A little laugh and a saucy motion of the head was all her reply, 
 while she went in search of her bonnet and shawl. She was back 
 again in a moment, and the three now issued forth into the wood. 
 
 For all Jack Massingbred's boasted "tact," and his assumed power 
 of suiting himself to his company, he felt very ill at ease as he walked 
 along that morning, " His world" was not that of the poor country 
 girl at his side, and he essayed in vain to find some topic to interest 
 her ; not so Kate Henderson, "With all a woman's nice perception, and 
 quite without effort, she talked to Joan about the country and the 
 people, of whose habits slie knew sufficient not to betray ignorance ; 
 and although Joan felt at times a half suspicious distrust of her, she 
 grew at length to be pleased with the tone of easy familiarity used 
 towards her, and the absence of anything bordering on superiority, 
 
 Joan, whose instincts and sympathies were all with the humble 
 class from which she sprung, described in touching language the 
 suffering condition of the people, the terrible struggle against desti- 
 tution maintained for years, and daily becoming more difficult and 
 hopeless. It was like a shipwrecked crew reduced to quarter-rations, 
 and now about to relinquish even these ! 
 
 "And they are patient under all this?" asked Kate, with that 
 peculiar accent so difficult to pronounce its meaning. 
 
 " They are indeed, Miss," was the answer, 
 
 " Have they any hope ? "What do they promise themselves as the 
 remedy for these calamities ?" 
 
 "Sorrow one of me 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 not she 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 tliem 
 that talks most and best gets over her. Some arc ashamed, and some 
 are too proud to tell what tliey're suftering; 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."
 
 202 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 " But surely you haven't to walk all that way ?" 
 
 "What sio'mfies 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 turned a look 
 on Masstngbred, as though to say—" You ought to answer this for 
 me." But Jack was too deep in his own thoughts even to notice 
 
 the appeal. 
 
 " I can scarcely ask you to come to me,'' said Kate, quickly per- 
 ceiving a difficulty, "for I am not even a visitor at Cro' Martin." 
 
 "I'm sure I hope it's not the last time we'll meet. Miss; but 
 n^aybe"— 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. " AVhen 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 she is." 
 
 " Poor thing !" said Kate, calmly, while, folding her arms, she cou- 
 tmued 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 exclama- 
 tion — a syllable — will sometimes convey " whole worlds of secret 
 thought and feeling," and it was evidently thus that Massingbred in- 
 terpreted this brief expression. " There was nothing of scorn in that 
 pity !" thought he. " I wish she had uttered even one word more! 
 She is a strange creature!" 
 
 And it was thus speaking to himself that he walked along at 
 her side. 
 
 " This wild and desolate scene is not very like that of which we 
 talked the other night — when first we met — Miss Henderson." 
 
 "Tou forget that we never met," said she, calmly.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 203 
 
 " True, and yet tliere was a link between us even in tliose few 
 flowers thrown at random." 
 
 " Don't be romantic, Mr. Massiugbred — do not, I pray you," said 
 she, smiling faintly. " You know it's not your style, while it would 
 be utterly thrown away upon me. I am aware that fine gentlemen 
 of your stamp deem this the fitting tone to assume towards ' the 
 Governess,' but I'm really unworthy of it." 
 
 " What a strange girl you are," said he, half thinking aloud. 
 
 " On the contrary, how very common-place," said she, hastily. 
 
 " Do you like this country ?" asked Massingbred, with an imitation 
 of her own abrupt manner. 
 
 "No," said she, shortly. 
 
 " Nor the people ?" 
 
 " Nor the people !" was the answer. 
 
 " And is your life to be passed amongst them?" 
 
 " Perhaps," said she, with a slight gesture of her shoulders. 
 "Don't you know, Mr. Massingbred," added she, with more energy, 
 " that a woman has no more power to shape her destiny than a leaf 
 has to choose where it will fall ? If I were a man — you, for instance 
 — I would think and act difterently." 
 
 " I should like to hear what you would do if in my place," said 
 Jack, with a degree of 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. Tou have 
 both." 
 
 "As how?" asked he, frankly, and with no touch of irritation. 
 
 "Ami to be candid?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Even to rudeness ?" 
 
 " Cut as deeply as you like," said he, smiling. 
 
 " Then liere goes : — For the ' small ambition' I speak of, it was 
 displayed yesterday at dinner, when, in rivalry with that old lawyer, 
 you condescended to play agreeable, to out-talk him, out-quote, and 
 out-anecdote him. It is true you succeeded, but what a poor suc- 
 cess it was ; how inadequate to the forces that were mustered to 
 effect it !" 
 
 " And now for the other count of the indictment," said he, with a 
 half smile. 
 
 " First, do you plead guilty to this one?" asked she. 
 
 " Yes ; with an ' attenuating circumstance.' " 
 
 " What is that ?"
 
 204' THE MAllTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 " "Why, that you were present," said Jack, with a glance of more 
 tlian mere passing gallantry. 
 
 "Well," said she, after a pause, " I did take some of the display 
 to my own share. I saw that you didn't care to captivate the young 
 lady of the house, and that 'my Lady' bored you!" 
 
 " Insufterably !" exclaimed Jack, with energy. 
 
 "Your manner showed it," said she, " even more than such polish 
 ought to have betrayed." 
 
 "But I'm sure I never exhibited any signs of my martyrdom," 
 said he ; " I stood my torture well." 
 
 "Not half so heroically as you fancied. I noticed your weariness 
 before the dinner was half over, as I detected your splenetic dislike 
 to voun" Mr. Nellifjan " 
 
 " To Young NcUigan ? — then he has told you- 
 
 " Stop — be cautious," broke she in hurriedly ; " don't turn evidence 
 against yourself. He has told me nothing." 
 
 " Then what do you know ?" 
 
 " Nothing ; I only surmise." 
 
 " And what is your surmise ?" 
 
 " That he and you had met before — that you had even been inti- 
 mate — 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 eai*- 
 nestness, " and perhaps you, so ready to blame me for some things, 
 may see reason to tliink well of me in this." He then related briefly 
 but simply the history of his acquaintance with Nelligan ; he dwelt, 
 not without feeling, upon the passages of their student-life, and at 
 last spoke of his chance visit to Oughterard, and the accident by 
 which he became old Nelligan's guest. " "What can you make of 
 Joseph's conduct," cried he, " or how explain his refusal to meet me 
 at his father's table ? One of two reasons there must be. He either 
 discredits me in the character of his friend, or shrinks, with an 
 ignoble shame, from appearing there in his real position — the son of 
 the country shopkeeper ! I scarcely know if I'd not prefer he should 
 have been actuated by the former motive ; though more offensive to 
 we, in him it were more manly." 
 
 ""Why not have asked him which alternative he accepted?" asked 
 Kate. 
 
 "Because the opportunity to wound him deeply — incurably — first 
 presented itself. I knew well that nothing would hurt him like the 
 cool assumption of not recognising him, and I determined not to lose 
 my vengeance."
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEo' MAETIN. 205 
 
 " I'm a ■woman," said Kate, "and I'd not Lave stooped to tltatT 
 
 It was rarely that Massiugb red's emotions gave any evidence of 
 their working, but now his cheek grew crimson, as he said, " A man 
 only can measure a man's indignation." 
 
 "You are angry without cause," said she, calmly ; " you wish me 
 to pronounce a verdict on an act, and are displeased because I think 
 differently from you. How right I w^as in my guess that small 
 animosities were amongst your fuiliugs ! Tou want now to quarrel 
 with me r^ 
 
 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 
 Nellio-an — or I'm much mistaken — may feel the inequality of his 
 position as a something to overcome, a barrier to be surmounted — 
 not as a disability to contest the prizes of life even with such as Mr, 
 Massingbred." 
 
 " It is you now would quarr-el with me," said Jack, retorting her 
 own words upon her. " And yet," ho added, in a lower tone, " 1 
 would w^ish to have you my friend." 
 
 " So you can, upon one condition," replied she, promptly. 
 
 " I accept, whatever it be. Name it," 
 
 " That you be your own friend, that you address yourself to the 
 business of life seriously and steadily ; resolving to employ your 
 abilities as a means of advancement, not as a mere instrument for 
 amusement ; determine, in fact, to be sometliing 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 frieiidship," 
 replied she, with mock solemnity. 
 
 " And so we seal our contract," said he, pressing her hand to his 
 lips, but with an air of such respectful gallantry, that the action 
 implied nothijig bordering on a liberty. 
 
 " And now I leave you," said she, as she opened the wicket-gate of 
 a small flower-garden ; " such conferences as ours must not be re- 
 peated, or they miglit be remarked upon. Good-by." And without 
 waiting for his reply, she passed on into the garden, while Massing- 
 bred stood gazing after her silently and thoughtfully.
 
 206 THE MAETINS OE CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 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 beliind 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 cliair for her; 
 " and I take it for granted you came as soon as you could." 
 
 " Yes ; I have finished my morning's reading for her Ladyship — 
 noted her letters — answered the official portion of her correspon- 
 dence — talked the newspaper for Mr. Martin — hummed a singing 
 lesson for Miss Mary — listened to a Grand Jury story of Mr. Repton 
 — and now, that they are all off to their several destinations, here I 
 am, very much at the service of Mr. Massingbred." 
 
 " Who never needed counsel more than at this moment !" said Jack, 
 running his hands distractedly through his hair. " That's from my 
 father !" added he, handing her a letter with a portentous-looking 
 seal attached to it. 
 
 " What a fine bold hand — and how easy to read," said she, 
 perusing it. Jack watched her narrowly while she read ; but on her 
 calm impassive face not a line nor a lineament betrayed emotion. 
 
 "It is, then, an English borough he recommends," said she, laying 
 it down ; " and I suppose, looking to an official career, he is quite 
 right. The ' No Irish need apply' might be inscribed over Downing: 
 street ; but is that altogether your view ?" 
 
 " I scarcely know what I project as yet," said he. " I have no 
 career !" 
 
 " Well, let us plan one," replied she, crossing her arms on the 
 table, and speaking with increased earnestness. " The Martins have 
 
 oftered you Oughterard " He nodded, and she went on: " And, 
 
 as I understand it, very much on your own conditions ?" 
 
 " That is to say, I'm not to damage the Tories more than I can 
 help, nor to help the Radicals more than I must." 
 
 " Is there any designation for the party you will thus belong to ?" 
 asked she. 
 
 " I'm not exactly sure that there is ; perhaps they'd call me a 
 Moderate Whig."
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIK. 207 
 
 " That sounds very nice and common-place, bvit 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 discipline to serve 
 with a regular corps ; to do anything, or be anything, you must 
 command a partisan legiou " 
 
 "You're right there — I know that," broke he in. 
 
 " I don't mean it as flattery, but rather something a little border- 
 ing on tlie reverse," said she, fixing her eyes steadfastly on him ; 
 " for, after all, there is no great success — I mean, no towering suc- 
 cess — to be achieved by such a line ; but as I feel that you'll not 
 work " 
 
 " No ; of that be assured!" 
 
 " Then there are only secondary rewards to be won." 
 
 " You certainly do not over-estimate me !" said Jack, trying to 
 seem perfectly indifferent. 
 
 " I have no desire to underrate your abilities," said she, calmly ; 
 " they are very good ones. You have great fl.uency — great ' variety,' 
 as Grattan w^ould call it — an excellent memory — and a most amiable 
 self-possession." 
 
 " By Jove !" said he, reddening slightly, "you enumerate my little 
 gifts with all the accuracy of an appraiser !" 
 
 "Then," resumed she, not heeding his interruption, "you have 
 abundance of what is vulgarly styled 'pluck,' and which is to courage 
 what esprit is to actual wit ; and lastly, you are a proficient in that 
 readiness which the world always accepts for frankness." 
 
 " You were right to say that you intended no flattery!" said he, 
 with an effort to laugh. 
 
 " I want to be truthful," rejoined she, calmly. " No praise of 
 mine — however high it soared, or however lavishly it was squandered 
 — could possibly raise you in your own esteem. The Governess may 
 perform the part of the slave in the triumphal chariot, but could not 
 aspire to put the crown on the conqueror!" 
 
 " But I have not conquered !" said Jack. 
 
 " You may, whenever you enter the lists ; you must, indeed, if you 
 only care to do so. Go in for an Irish borough," said she, with re- 
 newed animation ; " arm yoiu'sclf with all the popiJar 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. Tor a while you'll 
 liave no imitators, and can sneer at the gentry and extol the ' people,'
 
 20S THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAHTIN. 
 
 without a competitor. Now and then, too, you can assail tlie Trea- 
 sury benches, where your father is sitting ; and nothing will so re- 
 dound to your character for independence." 
 
 "Why, where in Heaven's name," cried Jack, "have you got uj) 
 all this ? AV^hat and how do you know anything of party and 
 politics ?" 
 
 " Have I not been studying ' Hansard' and the files of the Tivics- 
 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 tbis success, or 
 that I should ' get up ' ' my politics' as rapidly as you can * your 
 principles ?' " 
 
 " I wish I was even sure that I had done so," said Jack, laughing, 
 " for this same address is puzzling me sadly ! Now here, for in- 
 stance," and he read aloud, " 'While steadfastly upholding the rights 
 of property, determined to maintain in all their integrity the more 
 
 sacred rights of conscience ' Now just tell me, what do you 
 
 understand by that?" 
 
 " That rents must be paid — occasionally, at least ; but that you 
 hope to pull down the Established Church !" 
 
 " Well — come," said he, " the thing will perhaps do !" 
 
 " I don't much like all this about ' the Palladium of the British 
 Constitution, and the unbroken bulwark of our dearest liberties.' We 
 are in Ireland, remember, where we care no more for your Palladium 
 — if we ever knew what it meant — than we do for the ' Grand Lama.' 
 A slight dash of what is called ' nationality' would be bettei- — 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 hand traced the 
 lines rapidly on the paper ; 
 
 " ' Finding that a new era is about to dawn in the political state 
 of Ireland, when the consequences of late legislation will engender 
 new conditions and relations, I present myself before you to solicit 
 the honour of your suff'rages, 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 develop- 
 ment.' 
 
 " Or this, if you prefer it," said she, writing away rapidly as 
 before :
 
 THE MAETINS OF CHO' MARTIN. 209 
 
 " * The presumption of aspiring to your representation vrill, per- 
 haps, be compensated wlien I come before you deeply impressed -nitk 
 the wrongs which centuries of legislation have enacted, and whicli, 
 stranger as I am in Ireland, have arrested 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 possess, to your great and good cause.' " 
 
 " I like the first best," said Jack. " The new era and the results 
 of the Relief Bill will be such appetising suggestions. There must 
 be an allusion to the Martins and their support." 
 
 " Eather, however, as though rjou had brought over Martin to your 
 views, than that lie had selected you to represent his. In this wise :" 
 and again she wrote — 
 
 " ' It is with a just pride that I announce to you that in these pro- 
 fessions 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 misconception may 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 
 realise all this, and he'll have to come to you for his politics !" 
 
 " Tou have caught up the cant of this peculiar literature per- 
 fectly," 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 oft'ers no I'eward 
 worthy the name ?" 
 
 "I think you mistake me," said she. "It is the social position 
 consequent upon success in a political life that I value — the eminence 
 it confers in the very higliost and greatest circles. If I regarded the 
 matter otherwise, I'd not be indifferent as to the line to follow — I'd 
 have great convictions, and hold them — I meau, if I were you /" 
 
 " Tlien 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 run- 
 ning without." 
 
 " Well, I shall certainly not be spoiled by flattery, at least fii'om 
 you," said Jack, laughing.
 
 210 TUE MAKTINS OF 0110 MAETIN. 
 
 " They who know you less will make up for it all, depend upon it," 
 said she, quietly. " Don't fancy, Mi\ Massingbred," added she, with 
 more earnestness of manner — " don't fancy that I'm insensible to the 
 impertinences I have dared to address to you, or that I venture upon 
 them without pain ; but when I perceived that you would admit me to 
 the liberty of criticising your conduct, charactei', and manners, I 
 thought that I might render you good service by saying what better 
 taste and better breeding would shrink from, and the only cost be 
 the dislike of myself." 
 
 "You took a very bad way to accomplish the latter," said Jack, 
 fervently. 
 
 "I didn't give it much consideration," said she, haughtily. "It 
 was very little matter what opinion you entertained of ' the 
 Governess.' " 
 
 " I should like to convince you that you were w]*ong," said he, 
 looking fixedly at her. 
 
 " Tou'd find your task harder than you suspect, Sir," said she, 
 coldly. " There is a sense of pride about the humbleness of a station 
 such as mine, as all the elevation of one in yours, could never fathom. 
 And," added she, in a still more determined tone, " there is but one 
 condition on which this intercourse of ours can continue, which is, 
 that this topic be never resumed between us. The gulf that sepa- 
 rates yoiu" position in life from mine is the security for mutual frank- 
 ness ; 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 answei*, but sat with his head buried between 
 his hands. 
 
 " I'd have you visit the ' dear constituency ' at once, Mr. Mas- 
 singbred," said slie, with a slight touch of scorn in her voice. " They 
 are not weU-bred enough to bear a slight !" And with this she left 
 the room. 
 
 " I should like excessively to know the secret of this interest in 
 my behalf," said Jack, as he arose and slowly walked the room. " It 
 is not, unquestionably, from any high estimate of my capacity ; as 
 little is it anything bordering on regard ; and yet," added he, after a 
 pause, " there are moments when I half fancy she could care for me, 
 at least I know well that /could for her. Confound it!" cried he, 
 passionately, " what a terrible barrier social station throws up ! If
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 211 
 
 she were even some. country squire's daughter — portionless as she is 
 — the notion would not be so absurd ; but ' the Governess !' and ' the 
 Steward!' what frightful figures to conjure up. No, no; that's im- 
 possible. One might do such a folly by retiring from the world for 
 ever, but that would be exactly to defeat the whole object of such a 
 match. Slie 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 yo\i at last?" cried Eepton, entering the rooui. 
 " 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 Eaflerty, and that uther 
 fellow — the father of our young friend here." 
 
 " Mr. Nelligan," said Jack. " But I can't well visit him — there 
 have been some rather unpleasant passages between us." 
 
 " Ah ! you told me something about it. He wanted you to till 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 tliis," said Jack, musingly ; " and our 
 difference is serious enough to make intercourse impossible." 
 
 " Tou shall tell me all about it as we drive along — that is, if it be 
 brief and easy to follow, for my head is so full of election matters 
 I don't desire a new element of complication. Step in now, and let 
 us away." And with this he hui'ried Massiugbred to the door, where 
 a pony-phaeton was in waiting for theui. 
 
 Once on the road, Eepton changed the conversation from the 
 domain of politics, and talked entirely of the host and his family. 
 There was a sort of constitutional frankness and familiarity about 
 the old Lawyer which all the astute habits and instincts of his pro- 
 fession had never mastered. Like a great many acute men, his 
 passion for shrewd observation and keen remark overbore the prudent 
 reserve that belongs to less animated talkers, and so, he now scrupled 
 not to discuss Martin and his affairs to one who but a few days back 
 liad been a complete stranger amongst them. 
 
 At first Jack heard him without much interest, but, as lie con- 
 tinued, 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 ' 
 
 p2
 
 212 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 liabits of tlie gentry geuerallj, combined with great facilities for 
 obtaiuiug inoncy at any emergency, had led to this universal indebt- 
 edness ; 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 Eepton, as they reached a point of the road from 
 which a view of the country could be obtained for miles on every 
 side — " now, as far as you can see belongs to Martin. Beyond that 
 mountain yonder, too, there is a large tract — not very productive it 
 is true — extending to the sea. The fine waving surface to your left 
 is all tillage land; and the islands in the bay are his. It is really a 
 princely estate, with even greater hidden resources than those pal- 
 pable 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 — how much has been advanced upon this — what 
 sums have been lent upon that — you'd be more amazed at the care- 
 less ease of the proprietor than you now are at the extent of his 
 fortune." 
 
 " But he is spending immensely in improving and developing the 
 2)roperty," said Jack. 
 
 *' Of course he is. Sir. That new-fangled notion of 'gentleman- 
 farming' — which has come to us from countries where there are no 
 gentlemen — won't suit Ireland, at least in the present generation. 
 "What loe want here is, not to make more money, but to learn how to 
 spend less ; and although the first very often teaches the last, it is a 
 hard way for an Irishman to acquire his knowledge. There's your 
 borough. Sir — that little spot in the valley yonder is Oughterard. 
 Do you feel, as you behold it, as though it were to be the mainspring 
 of a great career ? Is tliere 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 ? Tou have them all before you — their lives, 
 their sayings, and their doings. Show me one in the whole mass who 
 has originated a new idea in politics, or developed a new resource in the 
 nation. Do tlioy exhibit the common inventiveness displayed in almost 
 every other walk of life, or do they even di"ess up their common 
 platitudes in any other garb than the cast-off clothes of their prede-
 
 THE MAETINS OP CRO' MAIlTIIf. 213 
 
 cessors ? Mediocrity is a flattery Avheu applied to tliem. But -u'bat's 
 this coming along behind us, with such clattering of hoofs ?" 
 
 " A tandem, I think," said Jack, looking backward, "and very well 
 handled, too." 
 
 " Oh, that illustrious attorney, Mr. Scanlan, I've no doubt. Let 
 us draw up till he passes." And so saying, Eepton moved to one 
 side of the road, giving a wide space for the other to proceed on his 
 ■way. Mr. Scanlan, however, had subdued his nags, by a low, soft 
 whistle, to a half trot, when, giving the reins to his servant, he 
 descended and advanced to the carriage. " I've been in pursuit of 
 you. Gentlemen," said he, touching his hat courteously, " for the last 
 four miles, and I assure you you've given me a breathing heat of it. 
 Mr. Martin requested me to hand you this note. Sir," added he, 
 addressing Eepton, "which demands immediate attention." 
 
 The note was marked "instantaneous," and " strictly private," on 
 the cover, and Eepton opened it at once. It's contents were as 
 follows : 
 
 "Dear Eep., 
 " Tlie post has just arrived, with intelligence that Harry is coming 
 home — ^may be here within a week or so — so that we must not go 
 on with our present plans for the borough, as H., of course, will 
 stand. Come back, therefore, at once, and let us talk over the matter 
 together. 
 
 " Tours, in haste, 
 
 . «G. M." 
 
 "You know what this contains, perhaps?" said Eepton, in a 
 whisper to Scanlan. He nodded an assent, and the old lawyer re- 
 read the note. " I don't see my way here quite clearly," added he, 
 in the same subdued voice, to Scanlan. 
 
 " I'll stroll on and stretch my legs a bit," said Jack, springing out 
 of the pony phaeton, and seeing that the others had some private 
 matter of discussion ; and Scanlan now drew nigh, while Eepton 
 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 Eepton, 
 
 ""Why, that IMassingbred stands well with the people in the 
 borough. They think that he'll bo more their man tlian Martin's, 
 and, indeed, they're so confident of it, I half suspect he has told 
 them so."
 
 21Ji THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAKTJN. 
 
 " 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. llcpton, he's a deep 
 feUow." 
 
 "Are you quite sure of this? — can you pledge yourself to its 
 truth ?" 
 
 '• I only know that Fatlier Eaflcrty said the night before last he • 
 was satisfied with him, and the one diihculty was about old Nelligan, 
 wlio somehow is greatly incensed against Massingbred." 
 
 " He'd have no chance in the borough without us," said Eepton, 
 confidently. 
 
 "If old Dan would consent to spend the money, he'd be the 
 Member in spite of us," rejoined Scanlan. 
 
 " I'll not dispute local knowledge with you, Sir," said Eeptou, 
 peevishly. "Let us turn back at once. Where's Mr. Massing- 
 bred ? I saw him standing on the hill yonder a few minutes 
 ago ; maybe, he's strolling along the road in front." Eepton 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 Eepton. 
 
 " There he is," cried Scanlan, suddenly ; " there he is, walking 
 with ]\Iagcnnia. Tliey'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 pick- 
 pockets — 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 vou'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 sug- 
 gest to him that the sooner he returns thitlier tlie better." 
 
 There was an amount of vacillation and uncertainty about Eepton's 
 manner as he uttered these few words, that showed not only how 
 gravely he regarded the crisis, but how totally unprepared he found 
 himself for the emergency. Not so Scanlan, who took his seat once 
 more on liis lofty " buggy," and was soon spinning along the road at 
 a pace of full twelve miles the hour.
 
 THE MAETINS OP CEO' MAETIIir:, 215 
 
 As Eepton drove back to Cro' Martin, lie tliouglit once, and not 
 without humiliation, of his late lessons in statecraft to young Mas- 
 singhred. " To fancy that I was instilling all these precepts at the 
 very moment that he was countermining us. The young villain is a 
 worthy son of his father ! And how he will laugh at me, and make 
 others laugh too. It will never do to drive him into opposition to 
 us. Martin must consent to make the best of it, now, and accept 
 him as his Member — for the present, at least. "With time and good 
 opportunity we can manage to trip up his heels, but, for the moment, 
 there's no help for it." And with these not very consoling reflections 
 he entered once more the grounds of Cro' Martin Castle. 
 
 Let us now turn to Massingbred, as, accompanied by Magennis, he 
 walked at a rapid pace towards Oughterard. It needed but a glance 
 at the figures, and the rate at which they moved, to see that these 
 two men were bent upon an object. 
 
 '' Don't you see the town now before you ?" said Magennis. " It's 
 not much above two miles, and by the road it is every step of six, or 
 six and a half; and if we walk as we're doing now, we'll be there. at 
 least twenty minutes before them." 
 
 " But what will Eepton think of my leaving bun in this fashion ?" 
 
 " That it was a bit of your usual eccentricity — no more," said the 
 other, laughing. 
 
 " Tou are quite certain of what you've just told me ?" asked Jack, 
 after a pause. 
 
 "I tell you that you shall have it from Hosey's own lips. He 
 showed the post-mark on the back of the letter to Father Eafterty, 
 and it was ' Cape Town, August 2-i.' 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 Fatlier Xeal 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 Magennis ; " say you 
 want to be trimmed about tlie whiskers, and he'll be a proud man to 
 have you under hi.s 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 iu the riglit direction to get anything out of the Martins, and,
 
 216 THE MAETIKS OF CKO' MAETIN. 
 
 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 Xclligau ? the breach with him is, 
 I suspect, irreparable." 
 
 " AV^hy, it was Nelligau himself moved the first resolution in the 
 committee, that your address be accepted as embodyiug the views — 
 ho said the present views — of the liberal electors," 
 
 " You amaze nie !" cried Massingbred ; " and Joe, where was he ?" 
 
 " Joe is off to Dublin ; there's some examination or other he must 
 attend. But old Dan is your friend, rely upon that." 
 
 '"'This is inexplicable," muttered Jack to himself. 
 
 ""We'll go tliere, straight, the moment we get into the town. 
 He'll take it as a great compliment ; and you can talk to him frankly 
 and openly, for old Dan is a man to be trusted." 
 
 " I wish I could guess at how this reconciliation has been effected," 
 muttered Jack. 
 
 '•' It was your letter did it, I think." 
 
 " But I never wrote one." 
 
 " Well, somebody else did, perhaps ; at all events, Dan had an open 
 letter in his hand when lie addressed the committee, and said: 
 ' After reading this, Gentlemen,' said he, ' I can only say that I'll 
 not oppose ]SIr. 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 wdiat's more, there's my name down for two 
 hundred pounds for the election, if it ever comes to be a contest!' " 
 
 " This is all very good, but very strange news," cried Jack. 
 
 " Well, I can explain nothing of the mystery, if there be one. I 
 only know what I heard and saw myself." 
 
 " Let us go to his house, at all events," said Massingbred, who now 
 suffered his companion to rattle on about the state of parties and 
 politics in Oughterard, little heeding his remarks, and only bent on 
 following out his own thoughts. " Grive whom the slip ?" asked 
 lie, suddenly catching at the last words of some observation of Ma- 
 gennis. 
 
 "The Martins, of course," resumed the other; "for, as Father 
 Neal says, 'if we can secure the borough for you, you can well 
 afford to stand by its ; but if you were only Martin's Member, he'd 
 drop you whenever it suited him.' " 
 
 "As to-morrow, for instance, if his son should make his ap- 
 pearance!" 
 
 " Just so ; and that's the very reason for not losing a minute about
 
 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 2i7 
 
 getting the Martins in for the cost. AYhat can they say, after 
 choosing yon and putting you forward ?" 
 
 " 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, Mr. Massingbred," said he, coming to a 
 dead halt, and standing directly in front of him, " we don't go tlie 
 same road, not one step, till I hear from you, distinctly and plainly, 
 what you mean to do." 
 
 "This is somewhat of a peremptory proceeding," replied Jack. 
 " I think it would not be very unreasonable to allow a man in my 
 situation a little time for reflection." 
 
 "Keflect upon what?" cried Magennis. "Is it what politics 
 you'd be? If that's what you mean, I think you'd better say 
 nothing about it." 
 
 " Come, come, Mac, you are not quite fair in this business ; there 
 are difficulties — there are embarrassments very often in the way of 
 doing things which we have made up our minds to do. Now, if I 
 were perfectly certain that the Liberal interest here could succeed 
 in spite of Martin " 
 
 "So it will." 
 
 " You're sure of that ?" 
 
 "I'll show it to you on paper. "We'd rather have Martin with us 
 and no contest, because it's cheaper ; but if it must come to money, 
 we'll do it." 
 
 " Satisfy me on that point, and I'm with you ; there's my hand 
 on't !" 
 
 And Magennis grasped him in his own strong fingers to ratify the 
 contract. 
 
 While " Mac" went on to give some insight into the views and 
 wishes of his party, they reached the town and entered the main 
 street, and held their way towards old Nelligan's shop. 
 
 " That's Father Neal's pony at the door," said Mac, as they ap- 
 proached the shop ; " so we'll find them botli togctlier." 
 
 "I scarcely think I can enter here," said Massingbred, "after 
 what passed last between us. "We sui*ely 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." 
 
 •
 
 213 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 "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, per- 
 ceived Magennis beckoning to him from a window overhead. 
 
 In obedience to the signal, Jack turned and entered the shop, 
 where his friend quickly joined him. " Old Dan is in his bed, with a 
 heavy cold and a rheumatism, but he'll see you ; and Father Neal's 
 with him, and Hayes besides." And with this information he hurried 
 Jack up the stairs, and led him into a darkened room, where the 
 figures of the Priest and old Hayes were dimly discernible. Before 
 Massingbred had well crossed the door-sill, Nelligan called out, 
 " Tour 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 vmderstand you," said Jack, in a low 
 voice ; but before he could continue, the Priest advanced to greet 
 lijm, followed by old Peter. 
 
 " Wasn't I in luck to catch him on the road this morning ?" said 
 Magennis ; " he was coming in with the old Counsellor, and just got 
 out to walk up a hill " 
 
 " Eemember," said Jack, " that I have few minutes to spare, for I 
 must be in waiting about the market-place when he drives in." 
 
 " \Ye must have a conference, though," said Father Neal ; " there's 
 much to be settled. First of all, are we to coalesce for the repre- 
 sentation ?" 
 
 " No, no, no !" cried Nelligan. " "We'll have it our own way. If Mr. 
 Massingbred will be our Member, we want no help from the Martins." 
 
 " There's five pounds, and I'll make it guineas if yoii like," said old 
 Hayes, putting a note upon the table ; " but the devil a Whig or 
 Tory will ever get more out of Peter Hayes !" 
 
 A very good-natured laugh from the others showed how little 
 umbrage the frank avowal excited. 
 
 " We'll not want for money, Peter, make your mind easy about 
 that," said Dan. " When can you meet the committee, Mr. Massing- 
 bred ? Could you say to-night ?" 
 
 " Better to-morrow morning. I must return to Cro' Martin this 
 
 eveninsf." 
 
 " Certainly— of course," said Father ISTeal, blandly. " You'll have 
 to come to an understanding with Mr. Martin about the borough, 
 declare what your principles arc, and how, upon very mature con- 
 sideration, you find you can't agree with the opinions of himself and 
 Lis party."
 
 THE MAETINS 01? CKO' MAHTIN. 219 
 
 Magennis winked significantly at Jack, as tliough to say, " Listen 
 to Mm — Jte^s the man to instruct and direct you," and the Priest re- 
 sumed : 
 
 " Go on to explain that your only utility in the House could arise 
 from your being the exponent of what you feel to be the truth about 
 Ireland, the crying evils of tlie Established Church, and the present 
 tenure of land ! When you throw these two shells in, Sir, the town will 
 be on fire. He'll reply, that xuider these circumstances there's no more 
 question about your standing for the borough; you'll say nothing — not 
 a word, not a syllable — you'll only smile. If Repton's by — and he's 
 likely to be — he'll get hot, and ask you what you mean by that " 
 
 " There's Scanlan just driving round the corner," said Magennis in 
 a whisper, and Massiugbred arose at once and drew nigh to the bed- 
 side, 
 
 " Could I say one word to you alone, Mr. Nelligau ?" said he, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " Of course," said he. And whisperiug the Priest to take the 
 others into an adjoining room, old Nelligan motioned Jack to sit 
 down beside him. 
 
 " You said as I came in," said Jack, " that you were satisfied with 
 my explanation " 
 
 " To be sure I was," broke iu Dan. "All I wanted to know was, 
 that you acted under a misconception. That being once explained, 
 there was no offence on either side. Now, Catty Henderson's letter 
 to my wife put the thing straight at once ; she showed that yo?<r con- 
 duct 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 sec 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 compo- 
 sure in which it was his pride to affect that he invariably revelled. 
 
 "There they go!" cried Father Neal, shortly after, as Scanlan 
 drove rapidly by, with Massiugbred beside him. " ISIaybe Master 
 Maurice won't abuse us all round before he turns iu at the gate of 
 Cro' Martin." 
 
 " Massiugbred is too 'cute to mind him," said Magennis.
 
 220 THE MARTINS OF CHO MARTIN. 
 
 " Ah, Tom, tliorc's one appeal men of his stamp are never deaf to. 
 "lou may say fifty things tliat won't shock them in religion, or morals, 
 or good taste, but only utter the one -word ' vulgar,' and their indigna- 
 tion rises at once. Tliat'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 Massingbrcd is a gentleman born, and he won't be led astray 
 by such a consideration." 
 
 "It is exactly for that very reason that he will," said the Priest, 
 stoutly. " It's a strange fact, but there's no manner of man rates 
 social advantages so high as he that has them by right, and without 
 any struggle for them." 
 
 " "Well," said old Hayes, slowly, " if I once thought that of him, 
 the devil a vote of mine he'd get, no matter what his principles were." 
 
 "And there you're wrong, Peter," said Nelligan. " Matters of 
 good manners and breeding need never be discussed between us. 
 Mr. Massingbred will have Jiis station — ice'll have ours. There's a 
 long and weary road before us ere we come to think of our social 
 condition. There's many a cruel statute to be abolished — many a 
 hard grievance to be redressed." 
 
 "And, besides that," said Father Neal, with a shrewd twinkle iu 
 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 iu 
 the Irish Priest, there will be no more sneers at his brogue nor his 
 boots. Men of family and fortune w^on't shrink from their contact, 
 and maybe you'll see the day yet when coaches and chariots will 
 drive up to the chapel, and ladies in satin and velvet step out to 
 hear mass." 
 
 A prophetic view of the Millennium itself could not have astonished 
 old Peter Hayes more completely than did this marvellous suggestion 
 of Father Neal, and lie moved away muttering a " Heaven grant it !" 
 between his teeth. 
 
 " "Where's the next meeting of the committee to be ?" asked 
 Nelligan. 
 
 " In the Chapel House, to-morrow, at eleven. And that reminds 
 me I've not sent out the simimonses." And so saying, Father Neal 
 hastily took leave of his friends and left the room. 
 
 Let us take a glance at Mr. Maurice Scanlan, as with an extra 
 box-coat ingeniously wrapped around his lower man, he discoursed 
 pleasantly to his companion while he " tooled" along towards Cro'
 
 THE MAETINS OT CKO' MARTIN. 221 
 
 Martin. Not a word of politics, not a sj^llable on the subject of 
 party, escaped him as lie talked. His conversation Avas entirly of 
 sporting matters : the odds against Leandcr, the last bettings on 
 "Firebrand," -whether Spicy Bill was really in bad training, as the 
 knowing ones said, and if the course wouldn't " puzzle the young 
 ones" if the wet weather were to continue. 
 
 Massingbred was sufficiently well versed in these classic themes to 
 be an amusing and even instructive companion, and communicated 
 many a sly piece of intelligence that would have been deemed price- 
 less in BelVs Life ; and Scanlan quickly conceived a high estimate for 
 one who had graduated at Newmarket, and taken honoiu's at Good- 
 wood. 
 
 " After the kind of life you've led in England, I wonder how you 
 endure this country at all," said Maurice, with real sincerity of voice 
 and manner. 
 
 " I like it," said Jack ; " the whole thing is new to me, and vastly 
 amusing. I don't mean to say I'd willingly pass a lifetime in this 
 fashion, but for a few weeks " 
 
 " Just so ; to give you a better relish for the real thing when you 
 go back again," said Maurice. 
 
 "What a neat stepper that leader is!" said Jack, to change the 
 topic from himself and his own aflairs. " She's a well-bred one, that's 
 clear." 
 
 " Nearly full-bred ; the least bit of cocktail in the world. She's out 
 of Crescent, that ran a very good third for the Oaks." 
 
 "A strong horse, and a very honest one," said Jack. 
 
 "Well, I bought that little mare from young Mr. Martin — the 
 Captain — when he was ordered out to India ; I put lier in training, 
 and ran her at the Curragh in three weeks, and won, too, the St. 
 Lawrence Handicap!" 
 
 "Is Captain Martin a sportiiig cliaracter ?" at<ked Jack, carelessly. 
 
 " He is and he is not," said Scanlan, half querulouslj'. " He likes 
 a safe thing — do you understand;" and he gave a most significant 
 wink as he spoke. 
 
 " Oh, then he's close about money matters," said Massingbred. 
 
 " Not exactly that. lie's wasteful and spendtlu-ift, but he'd go to 
 the woi'ld's end to do a knowing thing — you've seen men of that 
 kind ?" 
 
 "Scores of tliem," replied Jack; "and they were always the 
 easiest fellows to be duped!" 
 
 "Exactly my own experience," said Scanlan, delighted to find his
 
 222 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 opinions coufirined in such a quarter. '' IS'ow, young Martin would 
 give live liuudred pounds for a horse to win a fifty-pound cup. Don't 
 you know what I mean ?" 
 
 "Perfectly," said Massingbred, with an approving smile. 
 
 "Nobody knows the sums he has drawn since he went away," ex- 
 claimed Scanlaii, wlio was momentarily growing more and more con- 
 fidential. 
 
 "There's a deal of high play in India — perhaps he gambles," said 
 Jack, carelessly. 
 
 A significant wink and nod gave the answer. 
 
 "Well, well," added he, after a pause, "he'll not mend matters by 
 coming back again." 
 
 "And is he about to visit England?" asked Massingbred, in tlie 
 same easy tone. 
 
 " So they say," replied Scaulan, with an efibrt at the easy indiffer- 
 ence of the other. 
 
 " On leave, perhaps ?" said Jack, indolentl3^ 
 
 " That's moi'e than I know," replied he, and relapsed into a thought- 
 ful silence, during which Massingbred continued to scan his features 
 with a sly, downcast glance peculiar to himself. 
 
 " You've never been in Leicestershire, Mr. Scaulan ?" said he, when 
 he had fidly satisfied himself with his examination. " Well, then, 
 come over there in the spring — say about March next — and pay me a 
 visit. I've got a sort of a hunting-box there, with a neat stable, and 
 by that time I hope to raise funds for a couple of nags." 
 
 " Trust me for the horseflesh. Sir. I know where to mount you 
 this very minute. You're not much above eleven stone ?" 
 
 " Eleven, eight — at least, so I used to be. Is it a bargain ? Will 
 you come?" 
 
 "Here's my hand on't," said the Attorney, overjoyed at the 
 prospect. 
 
 " Mackworth and Lord Harry Coverdale, and Sir Wentworth 
 Danby and a few more, are aU my neighbours. Capital fellows, whom 
 you'll be delighted witli. Just the sort of men to suit you — up to 
 everything that means sport." 
 
 " Exactly what I like !" cried Maurice, in ecstasy. 
 
 " We'll arrange it all this evening, tlien," said Jack. "Just drop 
 in to 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.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN". 223 
 
 "Another kind of person from these I've mentioned," said Jack, 
 slowly. 
 
 " So I should suppose, Sir," said Scaulau, a tone of respect in- 
 voluntarily attaching itself to liim as he addressed the son of a 
 Secretary of State. 
 
 " JS^ot that he doesn't like field sports, and all the enjoyments of 
 a country life. But you know, he's an old official — a Downing-street 
 Veteran — who really relishes public business, just as you and I would 
 a coursing match, or a heavy pool at Crocky's." 
 Scanlan nodded as if in perfect assent. 
 
 " "While I say this, it's only fair to add, that he has most excellent 
 qualities, and is a staunch friend when he takes any one up. I suspect 
 you'd, like him. I know he'd like _yo«." 
 
 "I'm greatly flattered. I don't deserve " 
 
 "You see," said Jack, not heeding the interruption, and assmning 
 the low accents of a confidential communication — " you see, he and I 
 have not been on the very best of terms for some time back ; I've 
 done some silly things — spent a little more money than he liked — and, 
 what was still worse in his eyes, refused a first-rate Government ap- 
 pointment — a really good thing, and such as one doesn't meet with 
 every day — and now, the only road back to his favour \Aill be for me 
 to come out strongly in some shape, either as a College prizeman, or in 
 public life. I despise the former. It's all very well for fellows like 
 Nelligan — it's their natural ' beat,' — but for a man like me, one who 
 has seen the world — the real world — these are nothing moi'e than 
 schoolboy distinctions — the sQver medal he brings home of a Satur- 
 day, and makes him the wonder of his sisters for twenty -four hours. 
 I'll have to strike out a line of my own !" 
 
 " No fear of you, Sir — devil a bit !" said Maurice, with a senten- 
 tious shako of the head. " Here we are now at Cro' Martin, and 
 there's the first dinner-bell ringing." 
 " "We shall be late, perhaps," said Jack. 
 
 " Tbw'll be in good time. As for me, I haven't been asked to dinner ; 
 so that when I drop you I'll go down to the village." 
 
 " WeU, then, I'U walk over and see you in the evening," said Mag- 
 singbred. " It seems to me — I don't know whether you arc of the 
 same opinion, tliough — but it seems strongly to me that you and I 
 ought to be allies." 
 
 "If I thought I was worthy " 
 
 " Come, come, Scanlan, no modesty, old boy. You know you're a 
 devilish clever fellow, and you no more intend to pass your life
 
 224 THE mahtins of cro' mautin. 
 
 cruising after petty-session practice in Galway, tliau I do to settle 
 down lierc as nnder-gardener," 
 
 "They're all looking at us, Sir, from the drawing-room windows," 
 said Scanlan, in a cautious voice ; " don't let us appear too confiden- 
 tial." And at the same instant lie 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 hoiu'S or so," said Massingbred, as he descended from the 
 lofty "drag." 
 
 Somewhat, but not very much later than the time appointed. Jack 
 Massingbred appeared in the small chamber of the " Crueskeen" — the 
 humble hostel on the roadside adjoining the demesne of Cro' Martin. 
 i\Iaurice Scanlan had made every preparation which the fluid resources 
 of the house admitted to receive his guest, but they were not destined 
 to be put in requisition. 
 
 " I have only come lest you should accuse me of forgetting you, 
 Scanlan," said Massingbred, as he stood in the doorway without re- 
 moving his hat. " I'm off to Oughterard, 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 Jack ; " but 
 you'll have the whole story in the morning when you go up there, and 
 doubtless more impartially than I should tell it. And noAV, good-by 
 for a brief space. We shall meet soon." And, without waiting for 
 answer, he nodded familiarly, stepped briskly to the door, where a 
 poi^t-chaise awaited him, and was gone, before Scanlan had even half 
 recovered from his astonishment and surprise.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AN AWKWARD VISITOR. 
 
 It is a singularly impressive sensation, and one, too, of wbicli even 
 frequency will scarcely diminish the effect, to pass from the busy 
 streets and moving population of Dublin and enter the quiet courts 
 of the University. The suddenness of tlie change is most striking, 
 and you pass at once from all the bustUng interests of life — its 
 cares and ambitions, its pursuits of wealth and pleasure — into the 
 stillness of a cloister. Scarcely within the massive gates, and the 
 noise of the great capital is hushed and subdued, its sounds seem to 
 come from afar, and in their place is an unbroken calm, or the more 
 solemn echoes of its vaulted roofs. 
 
 In a corner of the Old Square, and in a building almost entirely 
 occupied by the University authorities, and whose stairs had seldom 
 echoed beneath less reverend footsteps than those of Deans and 
 Bursars, were the chambers of Joe Nelligan. He had obtained them 
 in this peculiar locality as a special favour from "the Board," as 
 eminently suited to his habits of study and seclusion, for his was 
 indeed a life of labour — labour, hard, imremitting, and unbroken ! 
 Dreary as was the aspect of this 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 whicli he had retired as a sanctuary, and at times 
 the scene of tlie hallowed joy he felt when success had crowned all his 
 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 tliat he had ever tasted 
 of successful ambition, and in the depths of that old chair had he 
 dreamed away all the visions of a glorious future. The room in whieli 
 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 lit- 
 tered the tables and even the floor — for it was one of his caprices to 
 read as he lay at full length, eitlier on the ground or a sofa — and the 
 paper and pens were scattered about in different quarters, as accident 
 suggested. The only thing like ornament to be seen Avas a litlio- 
 graphie print of Cro' Martin Castle over the fireplace ; a strange ex- 
 
 Q
 
 226 THE MAETIKS OF CEO' MABTIN. 
 
 ception would it seem, but traceable, perhaps, to some remote sense 
 of boyish admiration for what had first awakened in him a feeling of 
 awe and admiration ; and there it now remained, timeworn and dis- 
 coloured, perhaps unnoticed, or looked on with very different emo- 
 tions. Aye ! 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 w'hose depths we have gazed, the lips on whose accents 
 we have hung entranced, but even when they trace the outlines of 
 some spot well known to us in boyhood — some scene of long, long 
 years ago. It is not alone that the "Then" and "Now" stand out 
 in strongest contrast, that what we were, and what we are, are in 
 juxtaposition, but that whole memories of w^hat we had once hoped 
 to be come rusliing over us, and all the spirit-stirring emotions of 
 early ambitions mingle tliemselves 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 cornes 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 essen- 
 tially imaginative. The very division of time, the objects which have 
 value to a student's eyes, the seclusion in which he lives, the tranquil 
 frame of mind coexistent with highly-strained faculties, all tend to 
 make his intervals of repose periods of day-dream and reverie. It is 
 not improbable tliat these periods are the fitting form of relaxation 
 for over-taxed minds, and that the Imagination is the soothing in- 
 fluence that repairs the wear and tear of lieason. 
 
 The peculiar circumstances of Young Nelligan's position in life had 
 almost totally estranged him from others. The constraint that at- 
 taches to a very bashful temperament had suggested to him a certain 
 cold and reserved manner that some took for pride, and many were 
 repelled from his intimacy by this seeming haughtiness. The un- 
 happy course of what had been his first friendship — for such was it 
 with Massingbred — had rendered him more distrustful than ever of 
 himself, and more firmly convinced that to men born as he had been 
 the world imposes a barrier that only is passable by the highest and 
 greatest success. It is true, his father's letter of explanation assuaged 
 the poignancy of his sorrow ; he saw that Massingbred had proceeded 
 under a misconception, and had believed himself the aggrieved indi- 
 vidual ; but all these considerations could not obliterate the fact, that 
 an insult to his social station was the A^ngeance adopted by him, and
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 227 
 
 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 exaltation. Such 
 men are, however, always found in the ranks of thoSe whose success 
 is wealth ; wherever the trimnphs are those rewarded by station, or 
 tlie distinctions conferred on intellectual superiority, this vain-glorioiis 
 sentiment is unknown. An inborn refiueraent rejects such coarse 
 pleasure, just as tlieir 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 malie most of success. He would have given half of all he might 
 possess in the world for even so much of birth as might exempt him 
 from a sneer. The painful sensitiveness that never rested nor slept — 
 that made him eternally on the watch lest some covert allusion might 
 be made to him — was a severe suffering ; and far from decreasing, it 
 seemed to grow with him as he became older, and helped mainly to 
 withdraw him further from the world. 
 
 No error is more common than for bashful men to believe that 
 they are unpopular in society, and that the world " will none of 
 them!" They interpret their own sense of difficulty as a feeling of 
 dislike in others, and retire to tlieir 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 reach me. These old books are my truest and best 
 of friends, and in their intercourse there is neither present pain nor 
 future humiliation!" 
 
 It was on a dark and dreary day in winter, and in that cheerless 
 hour, before the closing in of night, that Joseph sat thus in his 
 solitary home. The sound of carriage-wheels, and the sharp tram[t 
 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. AVith a strange sense of perturbation at tliis un- 
 wonted summons, he arose and opened it. 
 
 " The Chief Secretary begs to know if jMr. Nelligan is at home ?" 
 said a well-powdered footman, in a plain but handsome livery. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE MAKTIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 "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 liand, the steps of the carriage were let down, and a tall, 
 venerahlc-lookiug 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." 
 
 AV^ith considerable confusion of manner, and in all tliat hurry in 
 which bashful men seek to hide their awkwardness, Joseph ushered 
 his visitor into liis dimly-lighted chamber. 
 
 Colonel Massingbred, with all the staid composure of a very quiet 
 demeanour, had quite sufficient tact to see that he was in the com- 
 pany of one little versed in the world, and, as soon as he took his 
 seat, proceeded to explain the reason of his visit. 
 
 " My son has told me of the great pleasure and profit he has derived 
 from knowing you, Sir," said he ; " he has also informed me that a 
 slight and purely casual event interrupted the friendship that existed 
 between you; and, although unable himself to tender personally to 
 you at this moment all his regrets on the subject, he has charged me 
 to be his interpreter, and express his deep sorrow for what has 
 occurred, and his hope that, after this avowal, it may never be again 
 thought of by either of you." 
 
 "There was a misunderstanding — a fault on both sides — I was 
 wrong ia the first instance," said JN'elligan, 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 
 lie — 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." 
 
 " I am not reading now. I have read very little of late," said 
 Joseph, diffidently. 
 
 " I can imagine what that means," said the Colonel, smiling. 
 " Mr. Nelligan's relaxation would be the hard labour of less zealous 
 students ; but I will also say, that upon other grounds, this must be 
 done with more consideration. The public interests, Mr. Nelligan — 
 the country, to whose service you will one day be called on to con- 
 tribute those high abilities — will not be satisfied to learn that their 
 exercise should have been impaired by over-eflbrt in youth."
 
 ' /^^^-f^ 
 
 <^^t.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 229 
 
 " Tou overrate me much, Sir. I fear that you have heen misled 
 both as to my capacity and my objects." 
 
 " Your capacity is matter of notoriety, Mr. JSTelligan ; your objects 
 may be as high as any ambition can desire. But perhaps it is ob- 
 trusive in one so new to your acquaintance to venture on these 
 topics ; if so, pray forgive me, and set it down to the error I have 
 fallen into of fancying that I know you as well personally as I do by 
 reputation and character." 
 
 Before Nclligau 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 great-coat, rushed 
 towards him, exclaimiug, 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 con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " Just himself, and no other," replied the artist, disengaging him- 
 self from his extra coverings. " When you said to me, ' Come and 
 see me Avhen you visit Dublin,' I said to myself, ' There's a trump, 
 and I'll do it ;' and so here I am." 
 
 " Tou left the country yesterday. Did you bring me any letters ?" 
 asked Nelligan, but in the uncertain tone of a man who talked merely 
 to say something. 
 
 " Not a line — not a word. Your father was over head and ears at 
 work this Aveek 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 j'ou proceed fui-ther " 
 
 broke in Nclligan ; but, as he got so far, Colonel Massingbred laid 
 his hand on his arm, and said, in a bland but steady voice, " Pray 
 allow the gentleman to continue ; his account promises to be most 
 interesting." 
 
 " Indeed, then, that's what it is not," said Crow, " for I think it's 
 all bad from beginning to end." Another eifort to interrupt by 
 Nelligan being repressed by the Colonel, Crow resumed : " Every- 
 body trying to cheat somebody else. Tlie Martins wanting to cheat 
 the borough, the borough wanting to jockey the Martins, and tlien 
 young Massingbred humbugging them both ! And there he is now, 
 Member for Oughterard, and much he cares for either of them."
 
 230 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIK. 
 
 " Was there a contest, Sir ?" asked the Colonel, while by a gesture 
 he enforced silence on Nelligau. 
 
 " As bitter a one as ever you saw in your life," continued Simmy, 
 quite flattered at the attention vouchsafed him ; " for tliougli the 
 Martins put young Massiugbred forward at first, they quarrelled with 
 liim before the day for the nomination — something or other about the 
 franchise, or Maynooth, or the Church Establishment — sorra one o' 
 me know much about these matters — but it was a serious diifer- 
 ence, and they split about it ! And, after all their planning and con- 
 niving together, what do they do but propose Martin's son, the man 
 in the Dragoons, for the borough ! Massingbrcd bid them do tlieir 
 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 ! A nd then to hear how he harangued the people and abused the 
 aristocracy. Maybe 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 everytliing they could get against his character, and 
 at last declared that he had no qualification, and wasn't worth six- 
 pence." 
 
 "And how did he answer that?" cried the Colonel, who, fi.xing 
 his eyes on the other, entirely engaged his attention. 
 
 "I'll tell you how he did. Just producing the title-deeds of an 
 estate that old Nelligan settled on him eight days before — ay, and so 
 well and securely, that Counsellor Eepton himself, with all his 'cute- 
 ness, couldn't find a flaw in it. Eepton said, in my own hearing, 
 ' That's the cleverest blackguard in Ireland !' " 
 
 " Mr. Crow — Crow, I say," broke in Young Nelligan. 
 
 " Pray don't interrupt him," said the Colonel, in a tone that 
 seemed to demand obedience. " I want to learn by^ what majority he 
 gained the day." 
 
 " Thirty-eight or thirty-nine ; and there's only two hundred and
 
 THE MAETINS OF Clio' MA.BTIK. 231 
 
 odd in the borough. There may be, perhaps, a dozen of these to 
 strike off on a petition, but he's all safe after that !" 
 
 "And will they petition against his return?" 
 
 " They say so, but nobody believes them. His father" — and here 
 he made a gesture towards Nelligan — " his father has a strong purse, 
 and will see him well through it all." 
 
 " This is very interesting news to me, Sir," said the Colonel, with 
 another sign to Joseph not to betray him ; " for, although I could 
 well imagine Jack Massingbred equal to such an occasion as you 
 describe, 1 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 eye- 
 brows. " You thought that his name would be against liim, and that 
 people would say, ' Isn't he the son of old Moore Massingbred, that 
 took his bribe for the Union ?' " 
 
 '' Tliis 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 imper- 
 tinence." 
 
 " What — how — what's this!" exclaimed Crow, in a perfect horror 
 of shame. 
 
 " The fault, if there be any, is all mine. Sir," said the Colonel, 
 pressing him down into his seat. " I would not have lost the ani- 
 mated description you have just given me, uttered as it was in 
 sucli perfect frankness, for any cousideratioji, least of all at the small 
 price of hearing a public expression on a public man's conduct. 
 Pray, now, continue to use the same frankness, and tell me anything 
 more that occurs to you about this remarkable contest." 
 
 This appeal, uttered in all the ease of a well-bred manner, was 
 qaite unsuccessful. Mr. Crow sat perfectly horrified with himself, 
 endeavouring to remember what possible extent of offence he migiit 
 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 eftorts 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 ac- 
 companied him to the door, he tried to blunder out some words of 
 excuse. " My dear Mr. Nelligan," broke in the other with a quiet 
 laugh, " don't imagine for a moment tliat I am oftended. In the
 
 232 THE MARTINS OF CRO MAHTIN. 
 
 first place, your friend was the bearer of very pleasant tidings, for 
 Jack has not condescended to write to me about his success ; and 
 secondly, public life is such a stern schoolmaster, that men like my- 
 self get accustomed to rather rough usage, particularly at the hands 
 of those who do not know us. And now, as I am very unwilling to 
 include you in this category, when will you come and see me ? 
 What day will you dine with me ?" 
 
 Nelligan blushed and faltered, just as many another awkward man 
 has done in a similar circumstance ; for however an easy matter for 
 you, my dear Sir, with all your tact and social readiness to fix the 
 day it will suit you to accept of an almost stranger's hospitality, 
 Joseph had no such self-possession, and only stammered and grew 
 crimson. 
 
 " Sliall it be on Saturday ? for to-morrow I am engaged to the 
 Chancellor, and on Friday I dine with his Excellency. "Will Satur- 
 day suit you ?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 "Yes, Sii', perfectly ; with much pleasure," answered Nelligan. 
 
 " Then Saturday be it, and at seven o'clock," said Massingbred, 
 shaking his hand most cordially ; while Joe, with sorrowful step, re- 
 turned 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 pre- 
 vented your stopping me ? Wliy didn't you pull me up short before 
 I made a beast of myself?" 
 
 " How could I ? Tou rushed along like a swollen river. Tou were 
 so full of your blessed subject, that you wouldn't heed an interrup- 
 tion : 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 anj^ 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 jSTeal himself is rather a difficult subject to treat with," 
 added Joe.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAUTIIT. 233 
 
 " Blarney again !" 
 
 " Nor do I think," continued ISTelligan, " tliat the constituency of 
 the borough, as a body, are remarkable for any special liability to be 
 imposed on!" 
 
 " JSTor 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 mi/ word for it, English blarney goes further with us here 
 than all else. It's not that it's clever, or insinuating, or delicate — ■ 
 far from it ; but you see that nobody suspects it. The very blunders 
 and mistakes of it have an air of sincerity, and we are, besides, so 
 accustomed always to be humbugged with a brogue, that we fancy 
 ourselves safe when we hear an English accent." 
 
 " There's some ingenuity in your theory," said Joe, smiling. 
 " There's fact in it, that's what there is !" said Crow, rising from 
 his seat. " I'll be going now, for I'm to dine with Tom Magennis at 
 six." 
 
 " Is he here, too ?" 
 
 " Yes ; and 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." 
 
 " Tour natural discretion, doubtless," said Joe, smiling. 
 " Just so ; it must have been that !" replied he, with a sigh. 
 " Tou'll breakfast with me to-morrow. Crow, at eight," said 
 Nelligan, as he parted with him at the door. And Simmy, having 
 pledged himself to be punctual, hurried off to keep his dinner ap- 
 pointment.
 
 234 THE MAETINS OF CEO' ilARTm. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 A DAY "AFTEK. 
 
 The reaction tliat 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 after- 
 noon of that morning which has witnessed a wedding-breakfast — the 
 April landscape of joy and grief, the bridal beauty, and the high-beating 
 hope of the happy lover, have all fled, and in the still and silent cham- 
 bers 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 diflerent 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 tlieir most sumptuous apartments to vulgar company, 
 and made guests of those they deemed inferior to their own domestics. 
 They had given dinners, and suppers, and balls, and 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 inti- 
 mates, so as to impart a false colour of friendship to their conversation 
 with them ; in a word, and to use one by which her Ladyship summed 
 up all the miseries of the occasion, they had " demoralised" more in 
 a week than she believed it possible could have been eftected in ten 
 years. Let us be just, and add that my Lady had taken the phrase 
 bodily out of her French vocabulary, and in her ardour applied it 
 Avith its native signification : that is, she alluded to the sad conse- 
 quences of association with underbred company, and not by any 
 means to any inroads made upon her sense of honour and high 
 principle. 
 
 Still, whatever pangs the sacrifice was costing within, it must be 
 owned that no signs of them displayed themselves on the outside. 
 Even Repton, stern critic as he was, said that " they did the thing
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 235 
 
 well." And now it was all over, the guests gone, the festivities 
 ended, the election lost, and nothing in prospect save to settle the 
 lieavy outlay of tiie contest, and pay the high price for that exces- 
 sively dear article which combines contamination with disappointment. 
 
 In her capacity of head of the administration, Lady Dorothea had 
 assumed the whole guidance of this contest. With Miss Henderson 
 as her private secretary, she had corresponded, and plotted, and 
 bribed, and intrigued to any extent ; and although Eepton was fre- 
 quently summoned to a council, his advice was very rarely, if ever, 
 adopted. Her Ladyship's happy phrase — "one ought to know their 
 own borough people better than a stranger" — usually decided every 
 vexed question in 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 enter- 
 prise. Now her Ladyship had so fully made up her mind to win in 
 this contest, that she had silenced all scruples as to the means. She 
 had set out with some comfortable self-assurance that she knew what 
 was good for those "poor creatures" infinitely better than they did. 
 That it was her duty — a very onerous and disagreeable one, too — to 
 rescue them from the evil influence of demagogues and such like, and 
 that when represented by a member of her family, they would be 
 invested with a pledge that everything which proper legislation could 
 do for them would be tlieirs. So far had she 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 oppor- 
 tunity of doing so in a week of such bustle and excitement. Every 
 day brought with it fresh cares and troubles ; and although Kate 
 Henderson proved herself invaluable in her various functions, her 
 Ladyship's fatigues and exertions were of the greatest. 
 
 The day after tlio 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 tliat she stole languidly into her library, 
 and ordered her maid to send Miss Henderson to her. 
 
 As Kate entered the room she could not help feeling struck by the 
 alteration that had taken place in her Ladyship's appearance, and 
 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
 
 236 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN-. 
 
 possessed iu perfection, she had hegim to utter some words of plea- 
 sure 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 
 IMadame de S6vigne, and begin where you see the mark. Tou 
 appear weak to-day— tired, perhaps ?" 
 
 " Oh, a mere passing sense of fatigue, my Lady," said Kate, 
 assuming her place, and preparing her book, 
 
 " Chaorin, annoyance — 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 letters, wherein 
 tlie thouglit is so embellished by the grace of expression, that there 
 is a perpetual semblance of originality, without that strain upon the 
 comprehension that real novelty exacts. She read, too, with con- 
 summate skill. To all the natural gifts of voice and utterance she 
 added a most perfect taste, and that nicely subdued dramatic feeling 
 which lends to reading its great fascination. Nearly an hour had 
 thus passed, and not a word nor a gesture from Lady Dorothea inter- 
 rupted the reader. "With sliglitly-drooped eyelids, she sat calm and 
 tranquil ; and as Kate, at moments, stole a passing glance towards 
 her, she could not guess Avhether 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 have we had ! I'd not have believed 
 any one who told me that the whole globe contained as much un- 
 redeemed vulgarity as this little neighbourhood. What was the name 
 of the odious little woman that always lifted the skirt of her dress 
 before sitting down?" 
 
 " Mrs. Creevy, my Lady." 
 
 " To be sure — Mrs. Creevy. And her friend, who always came 
 with her ?" 
 
 " Miss Busk " 
 
 " Yes, of course — Miss Busk, of the Emporium. If I don't mis-
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 237 
 
 take, I've given her an order for something — bonnets, or caps — what 
 is it ?" 
 
 " A head-dress. Tour Ladyship told her " 
 
 " You'll make me ill, child — positively ill — if you remind me of 
 such horrors. I told you to come and read for me, and you begin 
 to inflict me with what— I declare solemnly — is the most humiliating 
 incident of my life." 
 
 Kate resumed her book, and read on. Lady Dorothea was now, 
 however, unmistakably inattentive, and the changing colour of her 
 cheek betrayed the various emotions which moved her. 
 
 " I really fancy that Miss Martin liked the atrocious creatures 
 we have received here the past week ; she certainly showed them 
 a species of attention quite distinct from mere acceptance ; and then 
 they all addressed her like old acquaintance. Did you observe 
 that ?" 
 
 " I thought that they assumed a degree of familiarity with Miss 
 Martin which was scarcely consistent with their station." 
 
 " Say, highly ridiculous, child — perfectly preposterous — for, al- 
 though she will persist in a style of living very opposite to the re- 
 quirements of her position, she is Miss Martin, and my niece !" 
 
 There was now a dead pause of some seconds. At length her 
 Ladyship spoke : 
 
 " To have been beaten in one's own town, where we own every sticlc 
 and stone in the place, really requires some explanation ; and the 
 more I reflect upon it, the more mysterious does it seem, llepton, 
 indeed, had much to say to it. He is so indiscreet — eh, don't you 
 think so?" 
 
 " He is very vain of his conversational powers, my Lady ; and, like 
 all clever talkers, says too much." 
 
 " Just so. But I don't think him even agreeable. I deem him a 
 bore," said my Lady, snappishly. " That taste for story-telling — 
 that anecdotic habit is quite vulgar — nobody does it now." 
 
 Kate listened, as though too eager for instruction to dare to lose 
 a word, and her Ladyship went on : 
 
 " In the first place, everybody — in society, I mean — knows every 
 story that can 'or ought to be told ; and, secondly, a narrative always 
 interrupts conversation, which is a game to be played by several." 
 
 Kate nodded slightly, as though to accord as much acquiescence 
 as consorted with great deference. 
 
 " It is possible, therefore," resumed her Ladyship, " that he may 
 have divulged many things in that careless way he talked ; and my
 
 238 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTlIf. 
 
 niece, too, may have been equally silly. In fact, one thing is clear, 
 the enemy acquired a full knowledge of our tactics, and met every 
 move we made by another. I was prepared for all the violence, all 
 the insult, all the licentious impertinence and ribaldry of such a 
 contest, but certainly I reckoned on success." Another long and 
 dreary pause ensued, and Lady Dorothea's countenance grew sadder 
 and more clouded as she sat in moody silence. At length a faint 
 tinge of colour marked her cheek, her eyes sparkled, and it was in a 
 voice of more than ordinary energy she said, " If they fancy, how- 
 ever, that we shall accept defeat with submission, they are much 
 mistaken ! They have declared the war, and it shall not be for them 
 to proclaim peace on the day they've gained a victory. And Miss 
 Martin also must learn that her Universal Benevolence scheme must 
 give way to the demands of a just and necessary retribution. Have 
 you made out the list I spoke of?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady, in part ; some details are wanting, but there are 
 eighteen cases here quite perfect." 
 
 " These are all cottiers — pauper tenants," said Lady Dorothea, 
 scanning the paper superciliously through her eye-glass. 
 
 " Not all, my Lady ; here, for instance, is Dick Sheehan, the black- 
 smith, w^ho 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, interrupting her. 
 " Now, Where's your father ? Send for Henderson at once ; I'll have 
 no delay with this matter." 
 
 " I have sent for him, my Lady ; he'll be here within half an 
 hour." 
 
 " And Scanlan also. We shall want him." 
 
 " Mr. Scanlan will be here at the same time." 
 
 " This case here, with two crosses before it, what does this refer 
 to?" said her Ladyship, pointing to a part of the paper. 
 
 " That's Mr. Magennis, my Lady, of Barnagheela, who has been 
 making incessant appeals for a renewal of his tenure "' 
 
 " And how did he behave ?" 
 
 " He seconded Mr. Massingbred's nomination, and made a very 
 outrageous speech on the occasion." 
 
 " To be sure, I remember him ; and he had the insolence — the 
 unparalleled insolence — afterwards to address Miss Martin, as she 
 sat beside me in the carriage, and to tell her that if the rest of the 
 family had been like her, the scene that had been that day enacted
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MABTIN. 239 
 
 would never have occurred ! Who is this Hosey Lynch ? His name 
 is so familiar to me." 
 
 " He is postmaster of Oughterard, and a kind of factotum in the 
 town." 
 
 " Then make a note of him. He must be dismissed at once." 
 
 " He is not a freeholder, my Lady, but only mentioned as an active 
 agent of the Liberal party." 
 
 " Don't adopt that vulgar cant. Miss Henderson — at least, when 
 speaking to me. They are not — they have no pretensions to be called 
 the Liberal party. It is bad taste as well as bad policy to apply a 
 flattering epithet to a faction." 
 
 " What shall I call them in future, my Lady ?" asked Kate, with 
 a most admirably assumed air of innocence. 
 
 " Call them Papists, Eadieals, Insurgents — anything, in fact, which 
 may designate the vile principles they advocate. You mentioned 
 Mr. Nelligan, and I own to you I felt ill — positively ill — at the 
 sound of his name. Just to think of that man's ingratitude — 
 base ingratitude. It is but the other day his son was our guest here 
 — actually dined at the table with us ! You were here. You saw 
 him yourself!" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady," was the quiet reply. 
 
 "I'm sure nothing could be more civil, nothing more polite, than 
 our reception of him. I talked to him myself, and asked him some- 
 thing — I forget what — about his future prospects, and see if this 
 very man, or his fathex' — for it matters not which — is not the ring- 
 leader of this same movement ! I tell you, child — and I really do 
 not say so to hurt yoiir feelings, or to aggravate your natural regrets 
 at your condition in life, but I say it as a great moral lesson — that 
 low people are invariably deceitful. Perhaps they do not always 
 intend it ; perhaps — and very probably, indeed — their standard of 
 honourable dealing is a low one ; but of the fact itself you may rest 
 assured. They are treacherous, and they are vindictive !" 
 
 " Eunis Cafferty, my Lady, who lives at Broguestown," said Kate, 
 reading from the list, " sends a petition to your Ladyship, entreating 
 forgiveness if he should have done anything to cause displeasure 1o 
 the family." 
 
 " What did he do ? that is the question." 
 
 "He carried a banner inscribed 'Down with Monopoly!' " 
 
 " Mark him for eviction. I'll have no half-measures. Miss Martin 
 has brought the estate to such a pass, tliat we may draw the rents 
 but never aspire to the influence of our property. These people
 
 240 THE MAETIKS OF CllO' MAETIX. 
 
 shall now know who are their real masters. "Who is that knocking 
 at the door r — 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 fleet- 
 ing, however, was it, that the most sharp-eyed observer could not 
 have detected its meaning. Lady Dorothea was too deeply occupied 
 w-ith 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 distinjiuished themselves in this outrasfeous 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. " Per- 
 haps your own principles are opposed to it ?" 
 
 " Na, my Leddy," said he, deferentially, '' I ha' nae principles but 
 such as the family sanctions. It's nae business o' mine to profess 
 poleetical opinions." 
 
 " Very true, Sir — very just ; you comprehend your station," re- 
 plied she, proudly. " And now to my demand. Who are the heads 
 of this revolt ? — for it is a revolt !" 
 
 " It's nae sa much a revolt, my Leddy," rejoined he, slowly and re- 
 spectfully, " as the sure and certain consequence of what has been 
 going on for years on the property. I did my best, by warning, and 
 indeed by thwarting, so far as I could, these same changes. But 
 I was not listened to. I foretold what it would all end in, this 
 amelearating the condition of the small farmer — this raising the moral 
 standard 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. Ay, 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."
 
 V . / ''M'/k 
 
 ^t,. 

 
 THE ' AETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 241 
 
 " I don't want your philosopbizing, Sir, about national charac- 
 teristics. I conclude that you know — it is your duty to know — 
 whence this spirit took its rise. I desire to be informed on this head, 
 and also what measures you have to advise for its suppression." 
 
 Another pause, longer and more embarrassing than the first, fol- 
 lowed on this speech, and Mr. Henderson really seemed balancing 
 within himself whether he would or would not give evidence. 
 
 " Your reluctance has only to go a step further, Henderson, to 
 impress me with the worst suspicions of yourself!" said Lady Doro- 
 thea, 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 ofienders ? and if so, how 
 can we punish them ?" 
 
 " Your Leddy ship has them all there," said lie, pointing to the list 
 on the table ; " but there's nae sa much to be done wi' them, as the 
 chief o' the lot are men o' mark and means, wi' plenty o' siller, and 
 the sperit to spend it." 
 
 " I hear of nothing but defaulters till a moment like this arrives, 
 Sir," said her Ladyship, passionately. " The burden of every song 
 is arrears of rent ; and now I am told that the tenantry are so 
 prosperous, that they can afford to defy their landlord. Explain this, 
 Sir!" 
 
 Before Mr. Henderson had completed that hesitating process 
 which with him was the prelude to an answer, the door opened, and 
 Mary Martin entered. She was in a riding-dress, and bore the traces 
 of the road on her splaslied costume ; but her features were paler 
 than usual, and her lip quivered as she spoke. 
 
 "My dear Aunt," cried she, not seeming to notice that others 
 were present, " I have comeback at speed from Kyle's Wood to learn 
 if it be true — but it cannot be true — however the poor creatures there 
 believe it — tliat 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 — standing 
 panic-stricken around the scene of their once labour, not speaking, 
 scarcely looking at each other, more like a shipwrecked crew upon 
 an unknown shore tlian fathers and mothers beside their own home- 
 steads!" 
 
 R
 
 242 THE MAETINS OF CRo' MARTIN. 
 
 " It Avas I gave the order, Miss Martin," said Lady Dorothea, 
 proudly. " If these people prefer political agitation to au honest 
 subsistence, let theui 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 com- 
 pletely as human charity has " 
 
 " If they have no votes to record, they have voices to outrage and 
 insult their natural protectors. Henderson knows that the worst 
 mohs in the borough were from this very district." 
 
 " Let him give the names of those he alludes to. Let him tell me 
 ten — five — ay, three, if he can, of Kyle's Wood men who took any 
 share in the disturbances. I am well aware that it is a locality where 
 he enjoys little popularity himself; but at least he need not calum- 
 niate its people. Come, Sir, who are these you speak of ?" 
 
 Kate Henderson, who sat with bent-down head during this speech, 
 contrived to steal a glance at the speaker so meaningful and so sup- 
 plicating, that Mary faltered, and as a deep blush covered her cheek, 
 she hastily added, " But this is really not the question. This mise- 
 rable 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 fear — 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." 
 
 " Tlie young leddy says na mare than the fact ; they're vara poor, 
 and they're vara dangerous !"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 243 
 
 " How do jou meau dangerous, Sir ?" asked Lady Dorothea, 
 hastily. 
 
 " There's more out o' that barony at the Assizes, my Leddy, than 
 from any other on the property." 
 
 " Starvation and crime are near relatives all the world over," said 
 Mary ; " nor do I see that the way to cure the one, is to increase the 
 other." 
 
 " Then let us get rid of both," said Lady Dorothea. " I don't sec 
 why we are to nurse pauperism either into fever or rebellion. To 
 feed people that they may live to infect you, or, perhaps, shoot you, 
 is sorry policy. You showed me a plan for getting rid of them, 
 Henderson — something about throwing down their filthy hovels, or 
 unroofing them, or something of that kind, and then they were to 
 emigrate — I forget where — to America, I believe — and become excel- 
 lent people, hard-working and quiet. I know it all sounded plausible 
 and nice ; tell Miss Martin your scheme, and if it does not fulfil all 
 you calculated, it will at least serve for an example on the estate." 
 
 '' An example !" cried Mary. " Take care, my Lady. It's a dan- 
 gerous precept you are about to inculcate, and admits of a terrible 
 imitation !" 
 
 " Now you have decided me, Miss Martin," said Lady Dorothea, 
 haughtily. 
 
 " And, good Heavens ! is it for a rash word of mine — for a burst 
 of temper that I could not control — you will turn out upon the wide 
 world a whole village — the old that have grown grey there — the in- 
 fant that clings to its mother in her misery, and makes a home for 
 her by its very dependence " 
 
 " Every one of them, Sir," said Lady Dorothea, addressing herself 
 to Henderson, who had asked some question in a low whisper. 
 " They're cottiers all ; they require uo delays of law, and I insist 
 upon it peremptorily." 
 
 " Not till my Uncle hears of it !" exclaimed Mary, passionately. 
 " A cruel wrong like this shall not be done in mad haste." And with 
 these words, uttered in all the vehemence of great excitement, she 
 rushed from the room in search of Martin. 
 
 E'i
 
 244i THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER. 
 
 It may save the reader some time, and relieve Iilm from tlie 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 liimself with much of his constitutional calm and 
 frankness. We shall not recapitulate Iiis 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 ap- 
 preciate the slow nod of your head, and I fancy I can hear the little 
 half sigh of deprecation with which you hear all this. Worse again, 
 I don't seek to defend myself. I think my case a bad one ; but still 
 I feel there is something to be said in mitigation. You need not 
 trouble yourself to draw up an indictment : I plead guilty — entirely 
 guilty to all you can say. I have broken with ' the gentlemen' to cast 
 my lot with the ' canaille.' — Why haven't we a good wholesome word 
 of our own for a home-made article ? — I have deserted the ranks where, 
 whatever fortune befel, 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 ex- 
 perience all the insult of their companionship ; but, as the lady 
 detected in possession of her lover's picture pleaded in her defence 
 that it was not like him, so I hope to arrest judgment against me by 
 the honest avowal that I detest and despise my party. I don't tallc 
 to yov, about their principles — still less do I say anything of my own 
 — but merely advert here to the miserable compromise a gentleman 
 is driven to make with every sentiment of his nature who once enlists 
 under their flag. As Travers told us one evening — you were of the 
 party, and must remember it — he was speaking of the Peninsular 
 campaign, in which he served as a volunteer — ' So long as you were 
 fighting,' said he, ' it was all very well ; the fellows were stout- 
 ncarted 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 associa-
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MABTIN, 245 
 
 ting, living with tliem, hearing their sentiments, sharing their opinions, 
 liopes, fears, wishes, and so on — then it became downright degrada- 
 tion!' Not, as he remarked, that they were one jot more vicious or 
 more corrupt than their betters, but that every vice and every corrup- 
 tion amongst them seemed doubly offensive by the contact with their 
 coarse natures. Now, my friends, the Liberals, are somewhat in the 
 same category. They do their work right well on the field of battle ; 
 they fight, swear, slander, and perjure themselves just like gentlemen ; 
 or rather better of the two. They even come down handsomely with 
 their cash — the last best evidence any man can tender of his honesty 
 in a cause ; but then, Harry, the struggle over, it is sorry work to 
 become their companion and their friend ! Oh ! if you had but seen 
 the dinners I have eaten, and the women I have handed down to 
 them ! — if you could liave 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 Eelief Bill will not be of that 
 exclusive character its opponents proclaimed — that a Catholic con- 
 stituency would choose a Protestant — even prefer one — as Mr. 
 O'Connell said. The opportunity was a good one to display this 
 sentiment, and so they took me ! Now, viy notion is, that every great 
 measure can have only one real imj)ortance, 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. AVe 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 Sheriy said, I mean to do — rt 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 pro-
 
 246 THE MAETINS OF CTIO' MAETIIT. 
 
 mises ; and later on I go to dinner, ' with what appetite I may,' to 
 some one of my faithful supporters — some corn-chandler who spouts 
 * foreign politics,' or a grocer who ought to be Colonial Secretary ! 
 But still I'm thankful for all this bustle and occupation : it averts 
 reflection, it raises a barrier against thought, and muffles the clapper 
 of that small hand-bell in the human heart men call their conscience ! 
 They say few men would have courage for either a battle or a 
 wedding if it were not for the din of the trumpets and the joy-bells ; 
 and I'm convinced that noise — mere noise — has no small share in 
 determining the actions of mankind ! 
 
 " And now, Harry, for a confession. I'm heartily sorry for the 
 whole of this business, and were it to be done again, nothing would 
 tempt me to play the same part in it. I was leading the joUiest life 
 imaginable at Cro' Martin. I had made the place and the people 
 my own. It was a kind of existence that suited me — sufiicient of 
 occupation, and enough of leisure. There were oddities to laugh 
 at, eccentricities to quiz, an old Lawyer to sharpen one's wits upon, 
 and a Governess — such a Groverness to flirt Avith ! Don't mistake 
 me, Harry ; it was not one of those hand-pressing, downcast-gazing, 
 low-speaking cases in which you are such a proficient. It was far 
 more like the approaches one might be supposed to make to a young 
 tigress in a cage — a creature with whom a mistake would be your 
 ruin, and whom you always caressed with a sense of impending 
 peril. 
 
 " I told you how ably she aided me in this contest — how she la- 
 boured to obtain information — secret information — for me as to every 
 voter in the borough. What prompted her to this course I cannot 
 fathom. She does not appear to bear any grudge against the Martins 
 — she had been but a few weeks amongst them — and is, all things con- 
 sidered, 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 mj 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 MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 247 
 
 the domination of those above her — the humility that no flatteries 
 ever breached — a self-possession that never seemed so strong as when 
 resisting the blandishments of praise, — these are strange gifts in a 
 young girl with beauty enough to turn half the heads of half the 
 fools we know of, and more than enough to make crazy that of hiui 
 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. T even wrote a 
 paragraph for the Times, announcing the marriage of Jack Massing- 
 bred with Kate Henderson, the only daughter of Paul Henderson, 
 the Land Steward, and pasted it above my chimney to shock and 
 outrage me. I did more. I made love to Miss Martin — as an 
 alterative, as the doctors would call it — but I fell at a stone wall, 
 got laughed at, and cured of my passion ; and lastly, I climbed that 
 lofty tree of my family, and sat high among the branches of defunct 
 Barons and Baronets, to get a bird's-eye view of the small mushrooms 
 that grew on the earth beneath, but hang me, Harrj-, if the agarics 
 didu't seem better company, and I was glad to get down amongst 
 them again, meaning thereby to sit beside that one dear specimen of 
 the class I allude to ! 
 
 " I see that you are curious to know how all these late events have 
 modified my relations with my father, and really I cannot answer 
 your inquiry. It is more than likely that my obtaining a seat in 
 Parliament will embarrass rather than serve him with his party, since 
 he wiU be expected to control a vote over which he can exert no 
 influence. 
 
 " As yet, nothing has occurred to draw us any closer, and my only 
 communications to him have been certain recommendatory letters, 
 which my constituents here have somewhat peremptorily demanded 
 at my hands. I gave them freely, for, after all, application is an easier 
 task than refusing, and besides, Harry, it is very difilcult to per- 
 suade 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 lor ; and if the Chief 
 Secretary but answer one-half of my appeals, Galway — 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 entreaties, persecuted with vulgar attentions, bored to
 
 248 TKE MAETINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 death by the insolent familiarity of people I cannot — do all that I 
 will — grow intimate with ; and yet I stay on, pretexting this, that, 
 and t'other to myself, and shrinking even to my own heart to avow 
 the real reason of my delay ! 
 
 " I want once again, if only for a few moments, to see her. I want 
 to try if by any ingenuity I could discover the mystery of her con- 
 duct with regard to myself; and I want also, if there should be the 
 need to do so, to justify to her eyes many things which I have been 
 forced by circumstances to do in this contest. 
 
 " I have not the slightest suspicion as to how she views all that has 
 occurred here. Two notes which I addressed to her, very respectful, 
 business-like epistles, have not been answered, though I entreated for 
 a few words to acknowledge their receipt. The Martins, since the 
 election, seem to have quarantined the whole town and neighbour- 
 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 Nelligans 
 — who have hitherto been crushed under the greater wealtli of the 
 rich proprietor. But I am again drifting into that tiresome tideway 
 of politics which I have sworn to myself to avoid, if only for a few 
 days ; in pursuance of which wise resolve I shall betake myself to the 
 mountains, under the pretext of shooting. A gun is an idler's pass- 
 port, and a game-bag and a shot-poucli are sufficient to throw a 
 dignity over vagabondism. Tou will therefore divine that I am not 
 bent on snipe slaughter, but simply a good excuse to be alone ! 
 
 " I mean to go to-morrow, and shall first turn my steps towards 
 the coast, which, so far as I have seen, is singularly bold and pictu- 
 resque. If nothing occurs to alter my determination, I'll leave this 
 unclosed till I can tell you that I have come back here, which in all 
 probability will be by the end of the week. 
 
 * * * * * # 
 
 " Once more here, my dear Harry, I sit down to add a few lines to 
 this already over-lengthy epistle. "Wishing to give you some notion 
 of the scenery, I set out with all the appliances of a sketcher, and 
 have really contrived to jot down some spots which, for genuine 
 wildness and grandeur, it would be difficult to surpass within the 
 bounds of our country. 'Nov 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 ! Tou remember how
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETi:S'. 219 
 
 struck we botli were at the moment when the dome and aisle of St. 
 Peter's burst into light, and from the darkness of midnight every 
 column and every statue became illuminated in a second, but a thou- 
 sand times beyond this in grandeur of effect was the moment of the 
 sun's decline below the horizon. The instant before, the great sullen 
 sea was rolling and heaving with its leaden blue surface, slightly 
 traced here and there with foam, but no sooner had the sun touched 
 the horizon, than a flood of purple glory spread over the whole ocean, 
 so that it became like a sea of molten gold and amber. The dark 
 cliffs and rugged crags, the wave-beaten rocks, and the rude wild 
 islands, darksome and dismal but a moment back, were now all glitter- 
 ing and glowing, every pinnacle and every peak, in deep carbuncle 
 red. How suirjrestive 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 bkie 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 suchlike gear, which, know- 
 ing your weakness, I have gathered, but, not understanding their 
 virtues, may, for ought I know, be the commonest things in creation. 
 I can only vouch for their being very beautiful, and very unlike any- 
 thing else I ever saw before : fragments of marble, too, and specim.ens 
 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 plirase denotes weariness or 
 ennui — I got tlirough four days in these pursuits, and then I tool; 
 boat, and for three more I paddled about the coast, dipping in 
 amongst the cliffs, and creeks, and caves of this wonderful coast, 
 gathering shells and seaweed, and shooting curlews and eating 
 lobsters, and, in fact, to all intents and purposes, suffering a ' sea 
 change' over myself and my spirit as uneartlilike as well may bo 
 imagined ; and at last I bethought me of my new opening career, and 
 all that I ought to be doing in preparation of St. Stephen's ; and so 
 I turned my steps landward, and towards ' my borough.' I like to 
 say ' my borough :' it sounds feudal, and insolent, and old Tory-like ; 
 it smacks of tlic day when people received their representative tliank- 
 fully, as an alms, and your great Proprietor created his nominee as 
 the Consul ennobled liis horse ! 
 
 " Eevolving very high thoughts, reciting Edmund Burke's grand- 
 est perorations, and picturing very vividly before me the stunning 
 triumphs of my own eloquence in tlie House, I plodded along, this 
 time at least wonderfully indifferent to the scenery, and totally ob-
 
 250 THE MAETINS OF CBO' MARTIN. 
 
 livious of where I -was, when suddenly I perceived the great trees of 
 Cro' Martin demesne shadowing the road I travelled, and saw that I 
 was actually within a mile or so of the Castle ! You, Harry, have con- 
 trived, 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 drfy duus, blue- 
 devils, and dyspepsia ! Being, therefore, all this, well received every- 
 where, good company where pheasants are to be shot. Burgundy to 
 be drunk, or young ladies to be married — for j'^ou are a good shot, a 
 good wine-taster, and a good ' parti' — with such gifts, I say, it will 
 be very difficult to evoke your sym2)athy on the score of a misfor- 
 tune which no effort of your imagination could compass. In fact, to 
 ask you to feel what I did ; as I found myself walking along outside of 
 those grounds, ivithin 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 w'hich I was banished with 
 something not very itnlike disgrace ! No sophistry I could summon 
 was sufficient to assuage the poignancy of this sentiment. I feel 
 certain that I could stand any amount of open public abuse, any 
 known or unknown quantity of what is genteely called ' slanging,' 
 but I own to you that the bare thought of how my name might at 
 that moment be mentioned beneath that roof, or even the very re- 
 serve 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 jour- 
 ney. Take my word for it, that to get over the ground without a 
 thought of the road, there's nothing like a regular knock-down 
 affliction. I walked eight hours, and at a good pace, too, without so 
 much as a few minutes' halt, so overwhelmed was I with sensations 
 that would not admit of my remembering anything else. My first 
 moment of consciousness — for really it was such — came on as I 
 found myself breasting a steep stony ascent, on the brow of whicb 
 stood the bleak residence of my friend Mr. Magennis, of Barnagheela. 
 I have already told you of my visit to his house, so that I need not 
 inflict you with any new detail of the locality, but I confess, little as 
 it promised to cheer or rally the spirits, I was well pleased to find
 
 THE MAETINS Or CEO' MAETIN. 251 
 
 myself so near a roof under wbicli I miglat take refuge. I knocked 
 vigorously at the door, but none answered my summons. I repeated 
 my demand for admittance still more loudly, and at last went round 
 to the back of the house, which I found as rigidly barred as the 
 front. While still hesitating what course to take, I spied Joan 
 Landy — you remember the girl I spoke of in a former letter — as- 
 cending the hill at a brisk pace. In a moment I was beside her. 
 Poor thing, she seemed overjoyed at our meeting, and warmly wel- 
 comed me to her house. ' Tom is away,' said she, ' in Dublin, they 
 tell me, but he'll be back in a day or two, and there's nobody he'd be 
 so glad to see as yourself when he comes.' In the world, Harry — 
 that is, in your world and mine — such a proposition as Joan's would 
 have its share of embarrassment. Construe it how one might, there 
 would be at least some awkwardness in accepting such hospitality. 
 So I certainly felt it, and, as we walked along, rather turned the con- 
 versation towards herself, and whither she had been. 
 
 " ' I'm not more than half an hour out of the house,' said she, • for 
 I only went down the boreen to show the short cut by Kell Mills 
 to a young lady that was here.' 
 
 " ' A visitor, Miss Joan ?' 
 
 *' ' Tes. But to be sure you know her yourself, for you came 
 with her the day she walked part of the way back with me from 
 Cro' Martin.' 
 
 " ' Miss Henderson ?' 
 
 " ' Maybe that's her name. She only told me to call her Kate.' 
 
 " ' Was she here alone ? — did she come on foot ? — which way is 
 she gone ?' cried I, hurrying question after question. Perhaps the 
 tone of my last was most urgent, for it was to that she replied, by 
 pointing to a little glen between two furze-clad hills, and saying, 
 ' That's the road she's taking, till she crosses the ford at Cooma- 
 varagh.' 
 
 " ' 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-by to poor Joan, I 
 really forget ; but I dashed down the mountain at speed, and hurried 
 onward in the direction she had pointed out. In an instant all my 
 fatigue of the day was forgotten, and as I went along I remembered 
 nothing, thought of nothing, but the object of my pursuit. 
 
 *' Tou who liave so ofteu 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, would have been some- 
 what astonished had you seen tlic reckless, headlong pace at which
 
 252 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 I went, vaulting over gates, clearing fences, and dashing through 
 swamps, without ever a moment's hesitation. Picture to yourself, 
 then, my splashed and heated condition, as, after a two miles' chase 
 in this fashion, I at length overtook her, just as she was in search of 
 a safe spot to ford the river. Startled by the noise behind her, she 
 turned suddenly round, and in an instant we stood face to face. I'd 
 have iriven much to have seen some show of confusion, even em- 
 barrassment, in her looks; but there was not the slightest. No, 
 Harry, had we met in a drawing-room her manner could not have 
 been more composed, as she said : 
 
 *' ' Good morning, Mr. Massingbred. Have you had much sport ?' 
 
 " ' My chase was after you, Miss Henderson,' said I, hurriedly. ' I 
 just reached Barnagheela as Mistress Joan returned, and having 
 learned which road you took, followed you in all haste.' 
 
 " ' Indeed !' exclaimed she, and in a voice wherein there were 
 blended a vast variety of meanings. 
 
 " ' Tes,' I resumed ; ' for an opportunity of meeting you alone — of 
 speaking with you even for a few moments — I have delayed my de- 
 parture this week back. I wrote to you twice.' 
 
 " ' Tes ; I got your letters.' 
 
 " ' But did not deign to answer them.' 
 
 " ' I did not write to you, because, situated as J was, and regarded 
 as you were at Cro' IMartin, there would have been a species of 
 treason in maintaining anything like correspondence, just as I feel 
 there is somewhat akin to it in our intercourse at this moment.' 
 
 " ' And have the events occurring lately changed your feeling with 
 regard to me ?' asked I, half reproachfully. 
 
 " ' I don't exactly know to what former condition you refer, Mr. 
 Massingbred,' said she, calmly. ' If to the counsels which you 
 ■were gracious enough to receive at hands humble and inexperienced 
 as mine, they were given, as you remember, when you were the chosen 
 representative of the family at Cro' Martin, and continued only so 
 long as you remained such.' 
 
 " ' Then I have deceived myself, Miss Henderson,' broke I in. 'I 
 liad fancied that there was a personal good-will in the aid you ten- 
 dered me. I even flattered myself that I owed my success entirely 
 and solely to your effbrts.' 
 
 " ' Tou are jesting, Mr. Massingbred,' said she, with a saucy 
 smile ; ' no one better than yourself knows how to rely upon his own 
 abilities.' 
 
 " ' At least, confess that it was you who first suggested to me that 
 they were worth cultivating ; that it was you who pointed out a road
 
 • THE MABTINS OF CEO' MA"RTI>'. 253 
 
 to me in life, and even promised me your friendship as the price of 
 my worthily adopting it !' 
 
 " ' I remember the conversation you allude to. It was on this very 
 road it occurred.' 
 
 " ' AVell, and have I done anything as yet to forfeit the reward you 
 spoke of?' 
 
 " ' All this is beside the real question, Mr. jNIassingbred,' said 
 she, hurriedly. ' What you are really curious to learn is, Avhy it is 
 that I, being such as I am, should have displayed so much zeal in a 
 cause which could not but have been opposed to the interests of those 
 who are my patrons. That you have not divined the reason, is a 
 proof to me that I could not make you understand it. I don't want 
 to talk riddles — enough that I say it was a caprice.' 
 
 " ' And yet you talked seriously, persuasively to me, of my future 
 road in life ; you made me tliiuk tliat you saw in me the qualities that 
 win success.' 
 
 " ' Tou 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 ? Tiiere may be matters in which I have been misrepresented ; 
 others, of which I could make some explanation.' 
 
 " ' Are you quite satisfied with yourself. Sir ?' said she, interrupt- 
 ing me. 
 
 " ' jSTo,' said I ; ' so little am I so, that were it all to do over again, 
 I'd not embark in it. The whole attair, from beginning to end, is a 
 false position.' 
 
 " ' Ignoble associates — low companionships — very underbred ac- 
 quaintances,' said she, in a tone of scorn that seemed far more 
 directed at me tlian the others. I believe I showed how I felt it. 
 1 know that my cheek was on fire for some seconds after. 
 
 " ' The Martins, I take it, arc outrageous with me ?' said I, at 
 last. 
 
 " ' They never speak of you !' was the reply. 
 
 " ' Not my Lady ?' 
 
 " * No !'
 
 254 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 " ' Nor even Eepton ?' 
 
 " ' Not once.' 
 
 " ' That, at least, ia more dignified ; and if any accident should 
 bring us together in county business ' 
 
 " ' AVhich 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 neighbourliood to be deprived of its cliicf ornament — the people 
 of their best friend — just for sake of a petty party triumph ?' 
 
 " ' It is fortunate Mr. Massingbred's constituents cannot bear 
 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 tbey must abhor me !' said I, balf involuntarily. 
 
 " ' Avec les circonstances attenuantes,' said she, smiling again. 
 
 " ' How so ? — what do you mean ?' 
 
 " ' Wliy, that my Lady is thankful at heart for a good excuse to 
 get away — such a pretext as Mr. Martin himself cannot oppose. 
 Eepton, the Grand Vizier, counsels economy, and, like all uutravelled 
 people, fancies France and Italy cheap to live in ; and Miss Mary is, 
 perhaps, not sorrj', with the prospect of the uncontrolled management 
 of the whole estate.' 
 
 " ' And is she to live here alone ?' 
 
 " ' Yes ; she is to be sole mistress of Cro' Martin, and without 
 even a governess, since Miss Henderson is to accompany her Lady- 
 ship as private secretary, minister of the household, and, in fact, any 
 other capacity you may please in flattery to assign her. And now, 
 Mr. Massiugbred, that I have, not over-discreetly, perhaps, ad- 
 ventured 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 dis- 
 turbance you have caused here? Don't you really feel pleased to 
 tliiulv that you have revolutionised 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 quere itself is its own reply,' said I,
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 255 
 
 " ' Well said, Sir, and with consummate temper, too. Certainly, 
 Mr. Massingbred, you possess one great element of success in public 
 life.' 
 
 " ' Whicb is ?' 
 
 " ' To bear with equanimity and cool forbearance the impertinences 
 of those you feel to be your inferiors.' 
 
 " ' But it is not in this light I regard Miss Henderson, be assured,' 
 said I, with earnestness ; ' and if I have not replied to her taunts, it 
 is not because I have not felt them.' 
 
 " I thought I detected a very faint flush on her cheek as I said this, 
 and certainly her features assumed a more serious expression than 
 before. 
 
 " ' Will you let me speak to you of what is far nearer my heart,' 
 said I, in a low voice, — ' far nearer than all this strife and war of 
 politics ? And will you deign to believe that what I say is prompted by 
 whatever I know in myself of good or hopeful ?' 
 
 " ' Say on — that is, if I ought to hear it,' said she, coldly. 
 
 " Deterred a second or two by her manner, I rallied quickly, and 
 with an ardour of which I cannot convey an impression, much less 
 explain — one of those moments of rliapsody, i/oit'd call it — poured 
 forth a warm declaration of love. Ay, Harry, sincere, devoted love ! 
 — a passion which, in mastering all the common promptings of mere 
 worldly advantage and self-interest, had really inspired me vrith noble 
 thoughts and high aspirations. 
 
 " A Judge never listened to a pleading with more dignified patience 
 than did she 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 Barnaghcela stood. ' It was yonder, then, that 
 you caught up this lesson, Sir. Tlie admirable success of Mr. Ma- 
 gennis's experiment has seduced you !' 
 
 " ' Good Heavens, Kate !" cried I 
 
 " ' Sir,' said she, drawing herself proudly up, ' you are continuing 
 the parallel too far.' 
 
 " 'But Miss Henderson cannot for a moment believe ' 
 
 " ' I can believe a great deal, Sir, of what even Mr. Massingbred 
 would class with the iucredible ; 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, eagci'ly. ' In 
 offering to share my fortune in life with you ' 
 
 " ' Pray, Sir, let this stop here. Poor Joan, I have no doubt, felt
 
 256 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 all the grandeur of her elevation, and was grateful even in her misery. 
 But I should not do so ! I am one of those who think that the 
 cruellest share in a mesalliance is that of the humbler victim. To 
 brave such a fate, there should be all the hopeful, sanguine sense of 
 ■stroiif affection; and, as a reserve to fall back on in reverses, there 
 should be an intense conviction of the superiority over others of him 
 from whom we accept our inferiority. iS'ow, in my case, these two 
 conditions are wanting. I know you like frankness, and I am frank.' 
 
 " ' Even to cruelty !' said I. 
 
 " ' AVe are very near Cro' Martin, Sir, and I think we ought to 
 part,' said she, calmly. 
 
 " ' And is it thus you wo\ild 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 iu your own sentiments, 
 Mr. Massingbred ; and perhaps the day is not very distant when 
 you will laugh heartily at yourself for the folly of this same morning 
 — a folly which might have cost you dearly. Sir, for, I might have 
 said. Yes.' 
 
 " ' Would that you had.' 
 
 " ' Good-by, Sir,' said she, not noticing my interruption, ' and re- 
 member that, if I should ever need it, I have a strong claim on your 
 
 gratitude. Good-by !' 
 
 " She did not give me her hand at parting, but waved it coldly 
 towards me as she Avent. And so she passed the little wicket and 
 entered the dark woods of the demesne, leaving meiu a state wherein 
 the sense of bewilderment alone prevailed over all else. 
 
 " I have given you this narrative, Harry, as nearly as I can re- 
 member, 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. 
 Woidd that I had never come here ! "Write to me soon ; but no banter- 
 ing, 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 ! 
 
 " AVrite to me, I entreat. Address me at my father's, where I shall 
 be, probably, within a week. AVere I to read over what I have just 
 written, the chances are I should burn the letter; and so, sans adieu. 
 
 " Tours ever, 
 
 " Jack Massingbred."
 
 THE MABT1^'S OF CKO' MAETIK. 257 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 THBEE COACHES AND THEIK COMPAXY. 
 
 Thbee large and stately travelling-carriages, heavily laden, and 
 surrounded with all the appliances for couifort possible, rolled from 
 under the arched gateway of Cro' Martin. One eager and anxious 
 face turned hastily to catch a last look at the place he was leaving, 
 and then as hastilv concealiua: his emotion with his handkerchief, 
 Mr. Martin sat hack in the carriage in silence. 
 
 "Twenty minutes after eight," exclaimed Lady Dorothea, looking 
 at her watch. " It is always the case ; one never can get away in 
 time." 
 
 Eoused 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 thougli 
 speaking to himself: '"The place is in great beauty just now. I 
 don't think I ever saw it looking so well. Shall I ever see it 
 again ?" muttered he, in a still lower tone. 
 
 " I reaUy cannot think it ought to break your heart, jMr. Martin, 
 if I were to say 'No' to that question," said she, testily. 
 
 " No — no !" exclaimed he, repeating the word after her ; " not 
 come back here !" 
 
 '• There is nothing to prevent us if we should feel disposed to do 
 so," replied she, calmly. " I only observed that one coidd face the 
 alternative with a good coiu'age. The twenty years we have passed 
 in this spot are represented to your miad by more leafy trees and 
 better. timber. To me they are written ia the dreary memory of a 
 joyless, weary existence. I detest the place," cried she, passionately, 
 " and for notliing more, that even on leaving it my spu'its are too 
 jaded and broken to feel the happiness that they ought." 
 
 Martin sighed heanly, but did not utter a word. 
 
 " So it is," resumed she, " one ever takes these resolutions too late. 
 AVhat we are doing now should have been done sixteen or eighteen 
 years ago!" 
 
 " Or not at all," muttered Martin, but in a voice not meant to be 
 overheard. 
 
 s
 
 258 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 "I don't think so, Sir," cried she, catching up his words, "if only 
 as our protest against the insolence and ingratitude of this neigh- 
 bourhood — 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 Avhen the influence of our position is with- 
 drawn !" 
 
 " 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 arc 
 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 civilisation and 
 refinement." 
 
 " And poor Mary !" exclaimed Martin, with deep feeling. 
 
 " Your niece might have come with i;s 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 shovild pertain to her condition. She appre- 
 ciates her unfitness for society, and selects — as I think with com- 
 mendable discretion — a sphere much better adapted to her habits." 
 
 Martin again sighed heavily. 
 
 " To leave any other girl iinder such circumstances would have 
 been highly improper," resumed her Ladyship; " but she is really 
 suited to this kind of life, and perfectly unfit for any other, and I 
 have no doubt she and Catty Broon will be excellent company for 
 each other." 
 
 " Catty loves her with all her heart," muttered Martin. And her 
 Ladyship's lip curled in silent derision at the thought of such afiec- 
 tion. " And, after all," said he, half involuntarily, " our absence will 
 be less felt so long as Molly stays behind," 
 
 " If you mean by that, Mr, Martin, that the same system of waste- 
 ful expenditure is still to continue — this universal employment 
 scheme — I ca)i only say I distinctly and flatly declare against it. 
 Even Eepton — and I'm sure he's no ally of mine — agrees with me in 
 pronouncing it perfectly ruinous," 
 
 " There's no doubt of the cost of it," said Martin, gravely, 
 
 '• Well, Sir, and what other consideration should weigh with us ? — 
 I mean," added she, hastily, " what should have the same weight P 
 The immaculate authority I have just quoted has limited our personal 
 expenditure for next year to five thousand pounds, and threatens us 
 even with less in future if the establishment at Cro' Martin cannot
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 259 
 
 be reduced below its present standard ; but I would be ciu-ious to 
 know why there is such a thing as an establishment at Cro' 
 Martin?" 
 
 "Properly speaking, there is none," said Martin. " Eepton al- 
 ludes only to the worljpeople — 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. 
 Tour niece is not likely to want grapes in January, or camelias in 
 the early autumn. As little does she need sixteen carriage-horses 
 and a stable full of hunters." 
 
 " They are to be sold off next week. Mary herself said that she 
 only wanted two saddle-horses and the pony for the phaeton." 
 " Quite sufficient, I should say, for a young lady." 
 
 " I'm sure she'd have liked to have kept the harriers " 
 
 " A pack of hounds ! I really never heard the like !" 
 " Poor Molly ! It was her greatest pleasure — I may say her only 
 amusement in life. But she woiddn't hear of keeping them ; and 
 
 when Eepton tried to persuade her " 
 
 " Repton's an old fool — he's worse, he's downright dishonest — for 
 he actually proposed my paying my maids out of my misei-able pit- 
 lance of eight hundred a year, and at the same moment suggests your 
 niece retaining a pack of foxhounds !" 
 
 " Harriers, my Lady." ' " 
 
 " I don't care what they're called. It is too insolent." 
 " You may rely upon one thing," said Martin, with more firmness 
 than he had hitherto used, '• there will be nothing of extravagance in 
 ]\rary's personal expenditure. If ever there was a gii'l indiSereut 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 Lady- 
 ship made two or three other efforts to revive the argument, ho 
 seemed resolved to decline the challenge, and so they rolled along the 
 road sullen and uncommunicative. 
 
 In the second carriage were Eepton and Kate Henderson — an 
 arrangement which the old Lawyer flatteringly believed he owed to 
 his cunning and address, but which in reality was ordained by Lady 
 Dorothea, whose notions of rank and precedence were rigid. Although 
 Eepton' 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 
 
 s2
 
 2G0 THE MAUTINS OF CRO MARTIN. 
 
 before ; her mode of thought, and even some of licr expressions were 
 so difterent, that the old Lawyer owned to himself, " It was like 
 examining a witness through an interpreter." 
 
 A clever tallcer — your man of conversational success — is rarely 
 patient under the failure of his powers, and, not very unreasonably per- 
 haps, very ready to ascribe the ill-success to the defects of his hearer. 
 They had not proceeded more than half of the first post ere Eeptou 
 beo-an to feel the incipient symptoms of this discontent. 
 
 She evidently had no appreciation for Bar anecdote and judicial 
 wit ; she took little interest in political events, and knew nothing of 
 the country or its people. He tried the subject of foreign travel, but 
 his own solitary trip to Paris and Brussels aiforded but a meagr-e 
 experience of continental life, and he was shrewd enough not to swim 
 a yard out of his depth, " She must have her weak point, if I could 
 but discover it," said he to himself. " It is not personal vanity, that 
 I see. She does not want to be thought clever, nor even eccentric, 
 — which is the Governess failing far excellence ; — what then can it 
 be?" "With all his ingenuity he could not discover! She would 
 talk, and talk well, on any theme he started, but always like one who 
 maintained conversation through politeness and not interest, and this 
 very feature it was which piqued the old man's vanity, and irritated 
 his self-love. 
 
 When he spoke, she replied, and always with a au Hicient semblance 
 of interest, but if he were silent, she never opened her lips. 
 
 " And so," said he, after a longer pause than usual, " you tell me 
 that you really care little or nothing whither Fortune may be now 
 conducting you." 
 
 "To one in my station it really matters very little," said she, 
 calmly. " I don't suppose that the post-horses there have any strong 
 preference for one road above another, if they be both equally level 
 and smooth." 
 
 " There lies the very question," said he ; "for you now admit that 
 thei'e may be a difference." 
 
 " I have never found in reality," said she, " that these differences 
 were appreciable." 
 
 "How is it that one so young should be so so philosophic?" 
 
 said he, after a hesitation. 
 
 " Had you asked me that question in French, Mr. Repton, the 
 language would have come so pleasantly to your aid, and spared you 
 the awkwardness of employing a grand plu'ase for a small quality ; but 
 my "philosophy" is simply this: that, to fill a station whose casual- 
 ties range from courtesies in the drawing-room to slights from the
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETIIT. 261 
 
 servants'-liall, one must arm tliemselves "with very defensive armour, 
 as much, nay more, against flattery than against sarcasm. If, in the 
 course of time, this habit render one ungenial and uncompanionable, 
 pray be lenient enough to ascribe the fault to the condition as much 
 as to the individual." 
 
 " But, to be candid, I only recognise 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 •oTong. I should be very proud to captivate 
 Mr. Eepton." 
 
 "JN'ow we are on the good road at last!" said he, gaily, "for Mr. 
 Eepton is dying to be captivated." 
 
 " The fortress that is only anxious to surrender offers no great glory 
 to the conqueror," replied she. 
 
 " By Jove ! I'm glad you're not at the Bar." 
 
 " If I had been, I could never have shovrn the same forbearance as 
 Mr. Eepton." 
 
 "How so ? "What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I never could have refused a silk gown, Sir ; and they tell me you 
 liave 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 under- 
 stand 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 vuider 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. Eepton's name not only one of the first in debate, but the very 
 first in enunciating the great truths of Political Liberty. In fact, I 
 might go further and say, the only one who had the courage to pro- 
 claim the gi-eat principles of the I'rench Ecvolution." 
 
 " Ah — yes. I was a boy — a mere boy — very rash — full of hope —
 
 262 THE MABTINS OF CBO' MA-RTIN. 
 
 full of entliusiasin," said Repton, with an cnibarrassmeut that in- 
 creased at every word. " We all took fire from the great blaze be- 
 side us just then; but, my dear young lady, the flame has died out — 
 very fortunately too — for if it liadn't it would have burned us up 
 Avith it. We were wroug — wrong with Burke, to be sure — ' Errare 
 Platone,' as one may say — but still wrong." 
 
 " You were wrong, Sir, in confounding casualties with true conse- 
 quences — wrong as a Phj'sician would be who abandoned his treat- 
 ment from mistaking the symptoms of disease for the effects of medi- 
 cine. Ton set out by declaring there was a terrible malady to be 
 treated, and you shrink back afirighted 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 "Whios!" 
 
 O 
 
 " Why, what have we here ? A Girondist, I verily believe !" said 
 Eepton, looking in her face, Avith a smile of mingled surprise and 
 amazement. 
 
 " I don't much care for the name you may give me, but I am one 
 who thinks that the work of the French Eevolution is sure of its ac- 
 complislnncut. We shall very probably not do the thing in the same 
 way, but it Avill be done, nevertheless; for an act of Parliament, 
 tliough not so speedy, Avill be as effectual as a ' Noyade,' and a Re- 
 forming Administration will work as cleanly as a Constituent!" 
 
 "But see; look at Prance at this moment. Is not society re- 
 constituted pretty near to the old models ? What evidence is there 
 that the prestige of rank has suffered from the shock of revolution ?" 
 
 " The best evidence. Nobody believes in it— not one. Society is 
 reconstituted just as a child constructs a card-house to see how high 
 he can carry the frail edifice before it tumbles. The people — ^the 
 true people of the Continent — look at the pageantry of a Court and 
 .1 Nobility just as they do on a stage procession, and criticise it in the 
 same spirit. They endure it so long as their indolence or their caprice 
 permit, and then, some fine morning, tliey'll dash down tlie whole 
 edifice ; and be assured that the fragments of the broken toy will 
 never suggest the sentiment to repair it." 
 
 "You are a Democrat of the first water!" exclaimed Eepton, in 
 lialf-amazemeut. 
 
 " I am simply for the assertion of the truth everywhere and iu 
 everything— in Eeligion and in Politics, as in Ai-tand 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. Eepton— just come over with us to Paris— and see
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN". 263 
 
 if what I am telling you be so far from the fact. You'll find, too, 
 that it is not merely the low-born, the ignoble, and the poor who 
 profess these opinions, but the great, the titled, and the wealthy men 
 of fourteen quarterings and ancient lineage ; and who, sick to death 
 of a contest with a rich bourgeoisie, would rather start fair in the race 
 again, and win whatever place their prowess or their capacity might 
 give them. You'll hear very good socialism from the lips of Dukes, 
 and Princesses who swear by Fourrier." 
 
 Eepton stared at her in silence, not more amazed at the words he 
 heard than at the manner and air of her who spoke them ; for she had 
 gradually assumed a degree of earnestness and energy which imparted 
 to her features a character of boldness and determination, such as he 
 had not seen in them before. 
 
 " Yes," resumed she, as though following out her own thoughts, 
 '■'it is your new creations, your ennobled banker, your starred and 
 cordoned agitator of tlie Bourse, who now defends his order, and 
 stands up for the divine right of misrule ! The truly noble have other 
 sentiments!" 
 
 " There's nothing surprises me so much," said Eepton, at last, " as 
 to hear these sentiments from one who has lived surrounded by 
 all the blandishments of a condition that owes its existence to an 
 aristocracy, and never could have arisen without one — who has lived 
 that delightful life of refined leisure and elevating enjoyment, such, as 
 forms the atmosphere of only one class throughout the whole world. 
 How would you bear to exchange this for the chaotic struggle that 
 you point at?" 
 
 " As for me, Sir, I only saw the procession from the window. I 
 may, perhaps, walk in it when I descend to the street ; but really," 
 added she, laughing, " this is wandering very far out of the record. I 
 had promised myself to captivate Mr. Eepton, and here I am, striving 
 to array every feeling of his heart and every prejudice of his mind 
 against me." 
 
 " It is something like five-and-fifty years since I last heard such 
 sentiments as you have just uttered," said Eepton, gravely. " I was 
 young and ardent — full of that hopefulness in mankind which is, after 
 all, the life-blood of Eepublicauism — 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 iu 
 the interval ?" 
 
 " Come over to Paris, Sir," was her reply. 
 
 " And I would ask nothing better," rejoined he. " Did I ever tell 
 you of what Harry Parsons said to Macnatty when he purposed
 
 2Gi THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 visiting France, after tlic peace of '15? 'Now is tlie time to see 
 the French capital,' said Mac. ' I'll put a guinea in one pocket and 
 a shirt in the other, and start to-morrow.' — ' A)^, Sir,' said Parsons, 
 ' and never change either till you come back again!' " 
 
 Once back in his accustomed field, the old Lawyer went along re- 
 counting story after story, every name seeming to suggest its own 
 anecdote. Nor was Kate, now, an ungenerous listener ; on the con- 
 trary, she relished his stores of wit and repartee. Thus they, too, 
 went on their journey ! 
 
 The third carriage contained INIadame Hortense, Lady Dorothea's 
 French maid ; Mrs. Eunt, an inferior dignitary of the toilet ; and 
 Mark Peddar, Mr. Martin's " Gentleman" — a party which, wc are 
 forced to own, seemed to combine more elements of sociality than 
 Avere gathered together in the vehicles that preceded them. To their 
 share there were no regrets for leaving home — no sorrow at quitting 
 a spot endeared to them by long association. The sentiment was 
 one of unalloyed satisfaction ; they were escaping from the gloom of 
 a long exile, and about to issue forth into that world which they 
 longed for as eagerly as their betters. And why should they not ? 
 Are not all its pleasures, all its associations, more essentially adapted 
 to such natures ; and has solitude one single compensation for all its 
 depression to such as these ? 
 
 " Our noble selves," said Mr. Peddar, filling the ladies' glasses, and 
 then his own, for a very appetising 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. Eunt ; "and I'm sure 
 I'll take good care that day won't come soon. It seems like a terrible 
 nightmare when I think of the eight long years I passed there." 
 
 " Et moi, twelve ! Miladi engage me, so to say, provisoirement, to 
 come to Ireland, but with a promise of travel abroad ; that we live in 
 Paris, Eome, Naples — que sais-je ? I accept — I arrive — et me voici !" 
 And Mademoiselle threw back her veil, the better to direct atten- 
 tion to the ravages time and exile had made upon her charms. 
 
 " Hard lines, Ma'am," said Peddar, whose sympathy must not be 
 accused of an " equivoque," " and here am I, that left the best single- 
 handed situation in all England, Sir Augustus Hawleigh's, a young
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 265 
 
 fellow just of age, and that never knew wliat 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 liis cravat ; " she is a devilish fine girl, and might do better, 
 though." 
 
 '* She has no ambitions — no what you call them ? — no aspirations 
 for * le grand monde ;' so perhaps she has reason to stay where 
 she is." 
 
 "But with a young fellow of ton and fashion, Mam'selle — a fellow 
 who has seen life — to guide and bring her out, trust me there are ex- 
 cellent capabilities in that girl." And as Mr. Peddar enunciated the 
 sentiment, his hands ran carelessly through his hair, and performed 
 a kind of impromptu toilet. 
 
 "She do dress herself bien mal." 
 
 " Disgracefully so," chimed in Mrs. Runt. " I believe, whenever she 
 bought a gown, her first thought was what it should turn into when 
 she'd done with it," 
 
 " I thought that la Henderson might have taught her something," 
 said Peddar, affectedly. 
 
 " Au contraire — she like to make the contrast more strong ; she 
 always seek to make say — ' Ecgardez, Mademoiselle, see what a tour- 
 nure is there.' " 
 
 "Do you think her handsome, Mr. Peddar?" asked Mrs. Uunt. 
 
 " Handsome, yes ; but not iiii/ style — not one of what I call m)/ 
 women ; too much of this kind of thing, eh ?" And lie drew his head 
 back, and threw into his features an expression of exaggerated scorn. 
 
 " Just so. Downright impudent, I'd call it." 
 
 " Not even that," said Mr. Peddar, pondering ; " haughty, rather — 
 a kind of don't-think-to-come-it-on-me style of look, eh?" 
 
 " Not at all aimable — point de cela," exclaimed Mam'selle ; "but 
 still, I will say, tres bou genre. You see at a glance that she has seen 
 la bonne societe." 
 
 "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 Pome, 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 llaymarket. I quite forgot wc were on 
 the Neva. And when Prince GladuatoiYski's gentleman said, ' Where 
 shall I set you down ?' I answered, carelessly, ' At my chambers in
 
 2G6 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 
 
 the Albany, or anywhere your Highness likes near that.' Such is 
 life!" exclaimed he, draining the last of the champagne into his glass. 
 
 " This place will be pretty dull without us, I fancy," said Mrs. 
 Eunt, looking out at the distant landscape. 
 
 "That horrid old Mother Broon won't say so," said Pcddar, laugh- 
 ing. " By Jove ! if it was only to escape that detestable hag, it's 
 worth while getting away." 
 
 " I offer her my hand when I descend the steps, but she refuse 
 ' froidement,' and say, ' I wish you as much pleasure as you leave 
 behind you.' Pas mal for such a ' creature.' " 
 
 "I didn't even notice her," said Mrs. Eunt. 
 
 " Ma foi, I was good with all the world ; I was in such joy — such 
 spirits — that I forgave all and everything. I felt ' nous sommes en 
 route,' and Paris — dear Paris — before us." 
 
 "My own sentiments to a T," said Mr. Peddar. "Let me live 
 on the Boulevards, have my cab, my stall at the Opera, two Napa, per 
 diem for my dinner, and I'd not accept Mary Martin's hand if she 
 owned Cro' Martin and obliged me to live in it." 
 
 The speech was fully and warmly acknowledged, other subjects 
 were started, and so they travelled the same road as their betters, and 
 l^crhaps with lighter hearts. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 A COUNTRT AUCTION. 
 
 With feelings akin to those with which the populace of a revolted 
 city invade the once sacred edifice of the deposed Prince, the whole 
 town and neighbourhood of Oughterard now poured into the demesne 
 of Cro' Martin, wandered through the grounds, explored the gardens, 
 and filled the house. An immense advertisement in the local papers 
 had announced a general sale of horses and carriages, farming stock, 
 and agricultural implements; cattle of choice breeding, sheep of 
 fabulous facilities for fat, and cows of every imaginable productiveness, 
 were there, with draft-horses like dwarf elephants, and bulls 'that 
 would have puzzled a Matador. 
 
 The haughty state in which the Martins habitually lived, the wide 
 distance by which they separated themselves from the neighbourhood
 
 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MABTIN. 267 
 
 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 ter- 
 ritories, of whose magnificence each spoke without a fear of contra- 
 diction. 
 
 Country neighbourhoods are rarely rich in events, and of these, few 
 can rival a great auction. It is not alone in the interests of barter and 
 gain thus suggested, but in the thousand new channels for thouglit thus 
 suddenly opened — the altered fortunes of him whose effects have come 
 to the hammer; his death, or his banishment — both so much alike. 
 The visitor wanders amidst objects which have occupied years in col- 
 lection : some, tlie results of considerable research and difiiculty ; some, 
 the long-coveted acquisitions of half a lifetime ; and some — we have 
 known such — the fond gifts of friendship. There they are now side bj" 
 side in the catalogue, their private histories no more suspected than 
 those of them who lie gi'ass-covered in the churchyard. You admire 
 that highly-bred hunter in all the beauty of his symmetxy and his 
 strength, but you never think of the "little Shelty" in the next 
 stable with shaggy mane and long flowing tail ; and yet it was on him 
 the young heir used to ride ; he was the cherished animal of all the 
 stud, led in beside the breakfast-table to be caressed and petted, fed 
 with sugar from fair fiugex's, and patted by hands a Prince might have 
 knelt to kiss ! His rider now sleeps beneath the marble slab in the 
 old aisle, and they who once brightened in smiles at the sound of his 
 tiny trot would burst into tears did they behold that pony ! 
 
 So, amidst the triumphs of 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 beguiled over it the last hours of 
 a broken heart ! You turn your steps to the conservatory, but never 
 notice the little flower-garden, whose narrow walks, designed for 
 tiny feet, need not the little spade to tell of the child-gardener who 
 tilled it. 
 
 Ay, this selling-ofli' 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 briglit spring moruiug — one of those breezy, cloud-flitting 
 days, with flashes of gay sunliglit alternating with broad shadows, 
 and giving to the tamest landscape every effect the paiuter'a art
 
 268 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 could summon — tliai a long procession, consisting of all imaginable 
 vebicles, witli many on horseback intermixed, wound tbeir way beneath 
 the grand entrance and through the Park of Cro' Martin. Such an 
 opportunity of gratifyiug long pent-up curiosity had never before 
 offered ; since, even when death itself visited the mansion, the habits 
 of exclusion were not relaxed, but the Martins went to their graves 
 in the solemn state of their households alone, and were buried in a 
 little chapel within the grounds, the faint tolling of the bell alone 
 annoimcing to the Avorld without that one of a proud house bad 
 departed. 
 
 The pace of the carriages was slow as they moved along, their 
 occupants preferring to linger in a scene from which they had been 
 hitherto excluded, struck by the unexpected beauty of the spot, and 
 wondering at all the devices by which it was adorned. A few — a very 
 few — had seen the place in boyhood, and were puzzling themselves to 
 recall this and that memory ; bvit all agreed in pronouncing that the 
 demesne was far finer, the timber better grown, and the fields more 
 highly cxiltivated than anything they had ever before seen. 
 
 " I call this the finest place in Ireland, Dan !" said Captain Bodkin, 
 as he rode beside Nelligan's car, halting every now and then to look 
 around him. " There's everything can make a demesne beautiful — 
 wood, water, and mountain!" 
 
 " And, better than all, a fine system of farming," broke in Nelligan ; 
 " that's the best field of ' swedes' I ever beheld !" 
 
 " And to think that a man would leave this to go live abroad in a 
 dirty town in Trance!" exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, from the opposite 
 side of the car. " That's perverseness indeed !" 
 
 " Them there is all Swiss cows !" said Mr. Clinch, in an humble 
 tone. 
 
 " Not one of them, Clinch ! they're Alderneys. The Swiss farm, 
 as they call it, is all on the other side, with the ornamental cottage." 
 
 " Dear! dear! there was no end to their waste and extravagance!" 
 muttered ]\Irs. 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 Maher 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 sentiment
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIK, 200 
 
 fully concurred iu by the ladies, -wlio both declared that they'd never 
 have come so far only to look at pigs and " short horns." 
 
 " Maybe we'll get a peep at the gardens," said Bodkin, endeavour- 
 ing to console thera. 
 
 "And the sow!" broke iu Peter Hayes, who had joined the party 
 some time before. " They tell mc she's a beauty. She's Lord Some- 
 body's breed, and beats the world for fat!" 
 
 " Here's Scaulan, 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 ho said?" cried Bodkin. 
 
 " I didn't catch the words," replied Nelligan ; "and I suppose it 
 was no great loss." 
 
 " He's an impudent upstart!" exclaimed Mrs. Clinch. 
 
 "I think he said something about a breakfast," meekly interposed 
 Mr. Clinch. 
 
 " And of course he said nothing of the kind," retorted his spouse. 
 '•' You never happened to be right in your life !" 
 
 "Faix! I made sure of mine before I started," said old Haye?. 
 " I ate a cowld goose !" 
 
 " "Well, to be svu-e, they couldn't be expected to entertain all that's 
 coming!" said Mrs. Nelligan, who now began a mental calculation of 
 the numbers on the road. 
 
 "There will be a thousand people here to-day," said Bodkin. 
 
 " Eive 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 Nelligan, in a half- whisper, 
 " if they can find a tenant for it. Henderson told Pather Maher, 
 that come what might, her Ladyship would never come back here." 
 
 " Paix ! the 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 she must have the heavy heart to-day," sighed Mrs. Nel- 
 ligan. 
 
 " And it is only fair and reasonable she should have her share of
 
 270 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 troubles, like the rest of us," replied Mrs. Clincli. "When Clinch 
 was removed from Macroon we had to sell ofl" cveiy stick and stone 
 we had ; and as the neighbours knew we must go, we didn't get five 
 shillings in tlie pound by tlie sale." 
 
 "That's mighty grand — that is really a fine j)lace!" 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 Eoyal Palace — no less," said Nelligau, 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 ouglit to be, a man should have thirty thousand a year." 
 
 " Give me fifteen, Dan, and you'll see if I don't make it com- 
 fortable," said Bodkiu. 
 
 " What's this barrier here — can't wc go any further ?" exclaimed 
 Nelligan, as he perceived a strong paling across the avenue. 
 
 "We're to go round by the stables, it seems," said Bodkin; "the 
 Hall entrance is not to be invaded by such vulgar visitors. This is 
 our road, here." 
 
 " Well, if I ever!" exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, whose feelings really 
 overpow^ered utterance. 
 
 " I don't see any great hardship in this after all, IMa'am," said 
 Nelligan, " for we know if the family were at home we couldn't even 
 be here. Drive on, Tim." 
 
 A short circuit through a very thickly-wooded tract brought them 
 at length to a large and massive gateway, over which the Martins' 
 arms were sculptured in stone ; passing through which they entered 
 a great 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 the con- 
 venience of the sale, in front of which were pens for the cattle, 
 and a space railed off", wherein the horses were to be viewed and 
 examined. 
 
 " This is all mighty well arranged," said Bodkin, as he gave his 
 horse to a groom, who, in the undress livery of Cro' Martin, came 
 respectfully to his aid as he got down. 
 
 "The sale will begin in about an hour. Sir," said the man, in 
 answer to a question. "Mr. Scanlan is now in the house with Mr. 
 Gibbs, the auctioneer." 
 
 Vast crowds of people of every class, from the small Squire to the 
 Oughterard shopkeeper and country farmer, now came pouriug in, all
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 271 
 
 eager in tlieir 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. Every- 
 thing, indeed, was an object of wonderment. The ornamental tanks 
 for watering the horses, supplied by beautifully-designed fountains ; 
 the sculptured medallions along the walls, emblematising the chase, 
 or the road ; the bright mahogany partitions of the stalls, even to 
 the little channels, lined with shiuiug copper, all demanded notice 
 and comment; and many were the wise reflections uttered with 
 regard to those who thus squandered away then- wealth. The sight 
 of the cattle, however, which occupied this luxurious abode, went far 
 to disarm this criticism, since certainly none ever seemed more 
 worthy of the state and splendour that surrounded them. For these 
 the admiration was hearty and sincere, and the farmers went along 
 the stalls amazed and wouderstruck at the size and symmetry of the 
 noble animals that filled them. 
 
 "To be sold atTattersalVs, Sir, on the 4th of next month," said a 
 '^room, whose English accent imparted an almost sneer to the suppo- 
 sition that such a stud should meet purchasers in Ireland. " They're 
 all advertised in BelVs Life.'''' 
 
 " What becomes of tlie hounds ?" asked Bodkin. 
 
 "Lord Cromore takes them, Sir; they're to hunt in Dorsetshire." 
 
 "And the sow?" asked old Hayes, with eagerness; " she isn't to 
 go to England, is she ?" 
 
 " Can't say. Sir. AVc don't look arter no sows here," replied the 
 fellow, as he turned away in evident disgust at his questioner. 
 
 A certain stir and bustle in the court without gave token that the 
 sale was about to begin, and Scanlan's voice, in its most authoritative 
 tone, was heard issuing orders and directions on all sides, while 
 servants went hither and thither distributing catalogues, and securing 
 accommodation for the visitors with a degree of deference £ind at- 
 tention most remarkable. 
 
 "I suppose we're to pass the day in the stables, or the cow- 
 liouses. Ma'am?" said Mrs. Clincli, as with a look of indignation 
 she gazed at the range of seats now being hastily occupied by a mis- 
 cellaneous company. 
 
 "If wo 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 liastily 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 re-
 
 272 THE MAIiTIKS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 ceivcd, she wandered onward, through a Idtchen-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, tra- 
 versing a shrubbery, opened upon a beautifully-cultivated "parterre," 
 whose close-shaven sward aud flowery beds flanked a long range of 
 windows openiug to the ground, and Avhich, to her no small horror, 
 she perceived to form one wing of the mansion. While in her dis- 
 traction to think what course was best to take, she saw a groom 
 standing at the head of a small pony, harnessed to a diminutive car- 
 riage, and hastily approached him. Before, however, she had attained 
 Avithin 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 ad- 
 mitted 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. Nelligau came on, confusion rendering her indif- 
 ferent to all reproof, and in spite of gestures and admonitions to 
 retire, steadily advanced towards the door. As she passed one of tlie 
 open windows, her glance caught something within ; she stopped 
 suddenly, and, in seeming shame at her intrusion, tiumed to go back. 
 A muttered malediction from the servant increased her terror, and 
 she uttei'ed a faint cry. In an instant, the object at which she had 
 been gazing arose, and Mary Martin, her face traced with recent 
 tears, started up and approached her. Mrs. Nelligan felt a sense of 
 sickly faintness come over her, and had to gi'asp the window for 
 support. 
 
 "Oh, my 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 
 Mary, taking her hand cordially, and leading her to a seat. " It is a 
 great pleasure to me to see a friendly face, and I am grateful for the 
 chance that sent you here." 
 
 Mrs. Nelligan, once relieved of her first embarrassment, poured 
 forth with volubility the explanation of her presence ; and Mary 
 heard her to the end with patient politeness. 
 
 "And you were going away somewhere," resumed she, " when I 
 stopped you. I see your pony-chaise there at the door waiting for 
 you, and you're off to the Quarries, or Kilkieran, I'll be bound ; or
 
 THE MAETINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 273 
 
 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 ojff !" 
 
 "It is sad enough," said Mary, smiling through 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 Cot- 
 tage. Catty Broon, my old nurse, has gone over there to get it in 
 readiness for me, and I shall probably stay there till all this con- 
 fusion be over." 
 
 " To be sure, dear. "What's more natural than that you'd like to 
 spare your feelings, seeing all carried away just as if it was bankrupts 
 you were. Indeed, Dan said to me the things woiddn't bring more 
 than at a Sheriff's sale, because of the hurry you were in to sell 
 them off." 
 
 "My uncle's orders were positive on that subject," said Mary, 
 calmly. 
 
 "Yes, dear, of course he knows best!" said she, with a shake of 
 the head not exactly corroborating her own speech. " And how are 
 you to live here by yourself, dear ?" resumed she; "sure you'll die of 
 the loneliness!" 
 
 " I don't think so ; I shall have plenty to occupy me — more, in- 
 deed, 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 I\Irs. Nelligan. It is 
 the only time I can spare for reading ; they will be my hours of re- 
 creation and amusement." 
 
 " Well, well, I hope so, with all my heart," said she, doubtingly. 
 " You know yourself best, and maybe you'd be happier that way than 
 if you had somebody to talk to and keep you company." 
 
 " I didn't say that," saidlMary, smiling. " I never implied that a 
 visit from some kind friend — Mrs. Nelligan, for instance — would not 
 be a very pleasant event in my solitude." 
 
 " To come and see you — to come to Cro' Martin!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Nelligan, as though trying to reconcile her mind to the bare possi- 
 bility of such a circumstance. 
 
 "If you would not think it too far, or too much trouble " 
 
 " Oh dear, oh dear, but it'a too much honour it would be ; and Dau 
 
 T
 
 274 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIIT. 
 
 — no matter ^vhat he'd say to tlie contrarj^ — would feel it so, in his 
 own heart. Sure I know well how he felt about Joe being asked 
 here to dinner ; and he'd never have taken a part against your uncle 
 in the election, if it wasn't that ho 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 Massing- 
 bred's — maybe it was " 
 
 " But what was it ?" cried Mary — " what was alleged ? — what was 
 laid to our charge ?" 
 
 " There," now, I don't remember anything ; you frightened me so, 
 that it's gone clean out of my mind." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Mary, caressingly, " I never meant to 
 alarm you, and let us talk of something else. " Tou 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's all like a dream to me — just like a dream," said Mrs. Nelli- 
 gan, 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 Hke to 
 make it so ; and you'll tell me all the news of Oughterard — all about 
 every one there, for I know them, at least by name, and will be 
 charmed to hear about them." 
 
 " Mr. Scanlan wants an answer. Miss, immediately," said a servant, 
 presenting JNIary with a few lines written in pencil. 
 
 She opened the paper and read the following : " Nelligan offers 
 seventy pounds for the two black horses. Is he to have them ? Sir 
 Peter shows an incipient spavin on the off leg, and I think he'd be 
 well sold." 
 
 "Tell Mr. Scanlan I'll send him an answer by-and-by," said she, 
 dismissing the servant. Then ringing the bell, she whispered a few
 
 THE MAliTINS OF CKO' MA-RTIK. 275 
 
 words to the man who answered it. " I have just sent a mes- 
 senger to tell Mr. Nelligan I wish to speak to him," said ahe, 
 resuming her place on the sofa. " It is a mere business matter," 
 added she, seeing that Mrs. Nelligan waited for some explanation. 
 " And now, when have you heard from your son ? Is he learning to 
 spare himself anything of those great efforts he imposes upon his 
 faculties?" 
 
 This was to touch the most sensitive chord in all her heart, and so 
 she burst forth into a description of Joseph's daily life of toil and 
 study ; his 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 him- 
 self 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." 
 
 " Tour son's ambitions take, very probably, a higher range than 
 mere money-making," said Mary. " He has a good right to suppose 
 that his abilities may win him the very 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 re- 
 peatedly in reply to Miss Martin's greeting, starting with amazement 
 as he perceived Mrs. Nelligan, who maintained an air of unbroken 
 dignity on the sofa. 
 
 " "Well you may stare, Dan !" said she. " I'm sure you never ex- 
 pected to see me here !" 
 
 " It was a most agreeable surprise for mc, at least," said Mary, 
 motioning to a seat ; then, turning to Nelligan, added, " This little 
 note was the occasion of my aslting 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 ofter. 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 
 
 t2
 
 276 THE MAKTINS OF CEO MAETIN. 
 
 could sliow you how sensible one in my station could be of generosity 
 from one in yours.''^ 
 
 " Tou remind rac 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 you)' 
 part, or something even worse on ours.^' 
 
 " I'll not listen to such subtleties !" cried Mary, hastily. " Neither 
 you nor I, my dear Mrs. ISTelligan, care for party triumphs or defeats. 
 There are a thousand themes wherein our hearts can feel alike — and 
 these Ave'll discuss together. We're of the same country — have 
 passed our lives amidst the same scenes, the same events, and the 
 same people — and it will be hard if we cannot as easily discover topics 
 for mutual esteem, as subjects of difference and disagreement." 
 
 " But will it not be hinted, Miss Martin, that we took the oppor- 
 tunity of your solitude here to impose an acquaintanceship which had 
 been impossible under other circumstances ?" 
 
 " If you are too proud. Sir, to know me— lest an ungenerous sneer 
 should damage your self-esteem " 
 
 " Indeed, indeed we're not," broke in Mrs. Nelligan. " Tou don't 
 know Dan at all. He wouldn't exchange the honour of sitting 
 there, opposite you, to be High Sherift'." 
 
 ■ A servant fortunately presented himself at this awkward moment 
 with a whispered message for Miss Martin; to which she replied 
 aloud : 
 
 " Of course. Tell Mr. Scanlan it is my wish— wy orders," added 
 she, more firmly. " The house is open toany one who desires to see it. 
 And now, before I go, Mr. Nelligan, tell me that I have convinced 
 you — tell me that my reasons have prevailed, and that you acknow-
 
 THE MAETIN8 OF CEO' MARTIN. 277 
 
 ledge we ougbt to be friends." And, as she said the last words, she 
 held out her hand to him with a grace so perfect, and an air of such 
 winning fascination, that old Nelligan could only stammer out : 
 
 " It shall be how you please. I never bargained to dispute against 
 such odds as this. We are, indeed, your friends ; dispose of us how 
 you like." And, so saying, he conducted her to the little carriage, and, 
 assisting her to her seat, took his leave with all the respect he could 
 have showTi a Queen. 
 
 " It's more than a prejudice, after all," muttered he, as he looked 
 after her as she drove away. " There's something deeper and stronger 
 in it than that, or else a few Avords, 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 humble them — 
 but we'll never fill their places!" 
 
 " And we're to see the house, it seems !" exclaimed Mrs. Nelligau, 
 gathering her shawl around her. 
 
 " I don't care to look at it till she herself is here!" said old Xel- 
 ligan, taking his wife's arm, and leading her away across the lawn, 
 and in the direction of the stables. There was that in his moody 
 preoccupation whicli did not encoimage her to venture on a word, 
 and so, she went along at his side in silence. 
 
 "You're to have the black horses, Mr. JSTelligan," said Scanlan, 
 overtaking liim. Nelligan nodded. " You've got a cheap pair of 
 nags, and as good as gold," continued he. A dry half smile was all 
 the reply. " Mr. Martin bred them himself," Scanlan went on, " and 
 no price would have bought them three weeks ago ; but everything is 
 going for a song to-day! I don't know how I'll muster courage 
 to tell them the results of the sale !" 
 
 "You'll liave courage for more than that," said Nelligan. And, 
 althougli 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 liad 
 produced, and then passed on, while the Attorney muttered between 
 his teeth : " Can he suspect me ? Is it possible that I have betrayed 
 myself?" 
 
 No, Maurice Scanlan. Be of good cheer; your secret is safe. No 
 one has as much as the very barest suspicion that the pettyfoggiug 
 practitioner aspires to the hand of Mary Martin ; nor even in the 
 darkest dreams of tliat house's downfal has such a humiliation ob- 
 truded itself anywhere !
 
 278 THE MAETINS OF CEo' MAETIN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXYI. 
 
 "reverses." 
 
 Ours is a very practical age, and no matter liow skilfully a man 
 play tlie game of life, there is but one test of Ms ability — did be 
 win ? If this condition attend bim, bis actions meet charitable con- 
 struction — bis doings are all favourably regarded; and while his 
 capacity is extolled, even bis short-comings are extenuated. We 
 dread an unlucky man ! There is a kind of contagion in calamity, 
 and we slum bim as though he were plague-stricken! But with 
 what flatteries we greet the successful one ! That he reached the 
 goal is the sure guarantee of his merits, and woe to him who would 
 canvass the rectitude of bis 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, in- 
 capable 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 readi- 
 ness for their reception. The " Saunders " of the day duly chronicled 
 their arrival ; but there the great event seemed to terminate. No 
 message from her Ladyship's noble kinsman greeted their coming — 
 no kind note of welcome — not even a visit from Mr. Lawrence 
 Belcour, the aide-de-camp in waiting. The greatest of all moralists 
 warns us against putting confidence in Princes; and how doubly 
 truthful is the adage AA'heu extended to Viceroys ! Small as was the 
 borough of Oughterard, and insignificant as seemed the fact who 
 should be its representative, the result of the election was made a 
 great matter at the " Castle." His Excellency was told that the 
 Martins had mismanaged everything — they had gone to work in the 
 old Tory cut-and-thrust fashion of former days — conciliated no in- 
 terest, won over no antagonism. They had acted " precisely as if 
 there had been no Eelief Bill" — we steal Colonel Massingbred's
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIX. 279 
 
 words — and they were beaten — beaten in tlieir own town — in the 
 person of one of their own family, and by a stranger ! The Viceroy 
 was vexed. They had misconstrued every word of his letter — a letter 
 that, as he said, any child might have understood — and there was a 
 vote lost to his party. It was in vain that the Chief Secretary 
 assured his Excellency, " Jack was a clever fellow, who'd put all to 
 rights ;" that with a little time and a little dexterity he'd be able to 
 vote with the Ministry on every important division ; the great fact 
 remained unatoned for — his family, his own connexions, " 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 " Eoad 
 Sessions " or "Police Eeports," but to have one's day in total un- 
 broken 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 efibrt to conceal and control it. Eepton dined 
 with them. He came that day, "because, of course, he could not 
 expect to catch them disengaged on any future occasion." Her 
 Ladyship was furious at the speech, but smiled concurrence to it, 
 while Martin carelessly remarked : " From all that I see, we may 
 enjoy the same pleasure very often." JSTever was the old Lawyer so 
 disagreeable when exerting himself to be the opposite. He had 
 come stored with all the doings of the capital — its dinners and even- 
 ing parties, its " mots " and its gossip. From the political rumours 
 and the chit-chat of society, he went on to speak of the Viceregal 
 Court and its festivities. 
 
 " If there be anything I detest," said her Ladyship, at last, " it is 
 the small circle of a very small metropolis. So long as you look at it 
 carelessly, it is not so offensive ; but when you stoop to consider and 
 examine it with attention, it reminds you of the hideous spectacle of 
 a glass of water as seen through a magnifier — you detect a miniature 
 world of monsters and deformities, all warring and worrying each 
 other." And with this flattering exposition of her opinion she arose 
 speedily after dinner, and, followed by Miss Henderson, retired. 
 
 " I perceive that we had not the ear of the Court for our argu- 
 ment," said Eepton, as he resumed his place after conducting her to
 
 280 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIIT. 
 
 the door. Martin sipped his vrine 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 the Castle civilities " 
 
 " There's the rub," broke in Martin, but in a voice subdued almost 
 to a whisper. " They've taken no notice of us. Tor 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 Eepton implied that he had fully appre- 
 ciated 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 them- 
 selves heartily to comprehend the requirements of recent legislation, 
 than by exacting heavy reprisals on their tenants in moments of de- 
 feat and disappointment." 
 
 "Well, it is rather hard," said Martin, with more of energy than 
 he usually spoke in — " it is hard ! They first hounded us on to con- 
 test 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 undertaken, nevertheless. There are writs in pre- 
 paration, and executions about to issue over fourteen townlands. 
 There will be a general clearance of the population at Kyle-a-Noe. 
 You'll not know a face there when you go back, Martin !" 
 
 " Who can say that I'll ever go back ?" said he, mournfully. 
 
 " Come, come, I trust you will. I hope to pass some pleasant days 
 with you there ere I die," said Eepton, cheeringly. " Indeed, until 
 you are there again, I'll never go farther west than Athlone on my 
 circuit. I'd not like to look at the old place without you!" 
 
 Martin nodded as he raised his glass, as if to thank him, and then 
 dropped his head mournfully, and sat without speaking. 
 
 "Poor dear Mary!" said he, at last, with a heavy sigh. "Our 
 desertion of her is too bad ! It's not keeping the pledge I made to 
 Barry !" 
 
 " Well, well, there's nothing easier than the remedy. A week or 
 so will see you settled in some city abroad — Paris, or Brussels, per- 
 haps. Let her join you ; I'll be her escort. Egad ! I'd like the excuse 
 for the excursion," replied Eepton, gaily. 
 
 "Ay, Eepton," said the other, pursuing his own thoughts and not
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIX, 281 
 
 heeding tlie interruption, " and yoii, know what a brother he was ! 
 Bj 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, Eepton," added 
 
 he, grasping the other's arm as he spoke, " there's not as generous a 
 fellow breathing as Barry — this world has not his equal for an act of 
 noble self-devotion and sacrifice. His life! — he'd not think twice of 
 it if I asked him to give it for me ; but if he felt — if he could just 
 awaken to the conviction that he was unfairly dealt with — that, when 
 believing he was sacrificing to affection and brotherly love he was 
 made a dupe and a fool of " a 
 
 " Be cautious, Martin; sj)eak lower — remember where you are," 
 said Eepton, guardedly. 
 
 "I tell you this," resumed the other, in a tone less loud but not 
 less forcible, " the very warmth of his nature — that same noble, 
 generous source that feeds every impulse of hia life — would supply 
 the force of a torrent to his passion ; he'd be a tiger if you aroused 
 him !" 
 
 " Don't you perceive, my dear friend," said Eepton, calmly, " how 
 you are exaggerating everything — not alone your oion culpability, but 
 Ms resentment ! Grant that you ought not to have left Mary be- 
 hind you — I'm sure I said everything I could against it — what more 
 easy than to repair the wrong ?" 
 
 " No, no, Eepton, you're quite mistaken. Take my word for it, 
 vou don't know that ffirl. She has tauerht 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 comprehend !" 
 
 " Then what was to have been done ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you, Eepton : if it was her duty to stay there, it was 
 doubly ours to have remained also. "When she married," added he, 
 after a pause — " when she had got a home of her own — then, of course, 
 it would have been quite different! Heaven knows," said he, sighing, 
 " we have little left, to tie us to anything or anywhere ; and as to my- 
 self, 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 !"
 
 282 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MAETIN. 
 
 " I can't bear this," cried Eepton, angrily. " If ever there was a 
 man well treated by fortune you are he." 
 
 "I'm not complaining." 
 
 " Not complaining ! but, hang it ! Sir, that is not enough ! You 
 should be overflowing with gratitude ; your life ought to be active 
 with benevolence ; you should be up and doing, wherever ample 
 means and handsome encouragement could assist merit or cheer de- 
 spondency. I like your notion that you don't complain ! Why, if 
 you did, what should be done by those who really do travel the shady 
 side of existence ? — who are weighted with debt, bowed down with 
 daily difficulties, crippled with that penury that eats into a man's 
 nature till his very affections grow sordid, and his very dreams are tor- 
 mented with his duns ! Think of the poor fellows with ailing wives 
 and sickly children, toiling daily, not to give them luxuries — not to 
 supply them with what may alleviate weariness or distract suffering, 
 but bare sustenance — coarse diet and coarser dress ! Ah, my dear 
 Martin, that Eomanist 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 priva- 
 tion, just to teach us what others experience all the week through, 
 we'd have, if not more s}Tnpathy 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 Eepton, who slowly read the following lines : 
 
 « ' The Lodge, Tuesday. 
 " * Madam, — I have his Excellency's commands to inquire on what 
 day it will suit Mr. Martin and your Ladyship to favour him with 
 your company at dinner? His Excellency would himself say Satur- 
 day, 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, 
 
 " ' Laweence Belcour, A.D.C 
 
 " ' "With every consideration !' " repeated Eepton. " Confound tlie 
 puppy, and his Erenchified phraseology. Why is he not, as he ought 
 to be, your obedient servant ?" 
 
 " It is a somewhat cold and formal invitation," said Martin, slowly. 
 " I'll just see what she thinks of it;" and he arose and left the room.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 283 
 
 His absence was fully of twenty minutes' duration, and when lie did 
 return his face betokened agitation. 
 
 "Here's more of it, Eeptou," said he, filling and drinking off his 
 glass. " It's all my fault, it seems. I ought to have gone out to 
 the 'Lodge' this morning, or called on somebody, or done some- 
 thing ; in fact, I have been remiss, neglectful, deficient in proper 
 respect " 
 
 "So that you decline the invitation ?" broke in Eepton, 
 
 " Not a bit of it ; we're to accept it, man. That's what I cannot 
 comprehend. We are offended, almost outraged, but still we're to 
 submit. Ah, Eepton, 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 re- 
 quirements we want ; which are, an admirable climate, great cheap- 
 ness, 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 flat- 
 tering picture ?" 
 
 " No ; these are my Lady's own experiences, derived from a resi- 
 dence 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 educa- 
 tion imparts ; but take my word for it, Eepton, she has very fine 
 faculties !" 
 
 " I will take your word for it, Martin. I think you do her no 
 more than justice," said the old Lawj-er, sententiously. 
 
 "And I'll tell you another quality she possesses," said Martin, in 
 a lower and more cautious tone, as though dreading to be overheard — 
 " she understands my Lady to perfection — when to yield, and when to 
 oppose her. The girl has an instinct about it, and does it admirably ; 
 and there was poor dear Mary, with all her abilities, and she never 
 could succeed in this ! How strange, for nobody would think of 
 comparing the two girls !" 
 
 " Nobody !" drily re-echoed Eepton. 
 
 " I mean, of course, that nobody who knew the world could, for in
 
 281 THE MABTIKS OF CRO' MAETIK. 
 
 all the glitter and show off of fashionable acquirement poor Molly is 
 the inferior." 
 
 Eepton looked steadfastly at him for several seconds ; he seemed as 
 if deliberatLiig within himself whether or not he'd undeceive him at 
 once, or suffer him to dwell on an illusion so pleasant to believe. The 
 latter feeling prevailed, and he merely nodded slowly, and passed the 
 decanter across the table. 
 
 "Molly," continued Martin, with all the fluency of a weak man 
 when he fancies he has got the better of an argument — " Molly is her 
 father all over. The same resolution — the same warmth of heart — and 
 that readiness at an expedient which never failed poor Barry ! What 
 a clever fellow he was ! If he had a fault, it was just being too 
 clever." 
 
 "(Too speculative — too sanguine," interposed Eepton. 
 " That, if you like to call it so ; the weakness of genius." 
 Eepton gave a long sigh, and crossing his arms, fell into a fit of 
 musing, and so they both sat for a considerable time. 
 
 " Harry is coming home, you said?" broke in Eepton, at last. 
 " Tes ; he is tired of India — tired of soldiering, I believe. If he 
 can't manage an exchange into some regiment at home, I think he'll 
 seU out." 
 
 " By Jove !" said the old Lawyer, speaking to himself, but still aloud, 
 " the world has taken a strange turn of late. The men that used to 
 have dash and energy have become loungers and idlers, and the 
 energy — the real energy of the nation — has centred in the women — the 
 women and the priests ! If I'm not much mistaken, we shall see 
 some rare specimens of enthusiasm ere long. Such elements as these 
 will not slumber nor sleep !" 
 
 While Martin was pondering over this speech, a servant entered to 
 say that Mr. Crow was without, and begged to know if he might pay 
 his respects. " Ay, by all means. Tell him to come in," said Martin. 
 And the words were scarcely uttered when the Artist made his appear- 
 ance, in full dinner costume, and with a certain unsteadiness in his 
 gait, and a restless look in his eyes, that indicated his having indulged 
 freely, without, however, having passed the barrier of sobriety. 
 
 "You heard of our arrival, then?" said Martin, after the other 
 had paid his respects, and assumed a seat. 
 
 " Yes, Sir. It was mentioned to-day at dinner, and so I resolved 
 that, when I could manage to step away, I'd just drop in and ask how 
 her Ladyship and yourself were." 
 " Where did you dine. Crow ?"
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 285 
 
 "At the Chief Secretary's, Sir, in the Park," replied Crovr, with a 
 mixture of pride and bashfulness. 
 
 "Ah, indeed ! Was your party a large one ?" 
 
 " There were fourteen of us, Sir, but I only knew three or four of 
 the number." 
 
 "And who were they. Crow?" said Eepton, whose curiosity on all 
 such topics was extreme. 
 
 "Young Nelligan was one. Indeed, iv was through him I was 
 asked myself. Colonel Massingbred was good enough to come over 
 and have a look at my Moses — a favour I humbly hope you'll do me, 
 gentlemen, any spare morning, for it's a new conception altogether, 
 and I make the light come out of the bulrushes, just as Caravaggio 
 did with his Lazarus." 
 
 " Never mind Lazarus, Crow, but tell us of this dinner. "Who 
 were the others ?" 
 
 " Well, Sir, there was Nelligan and me — that's one ; and Tom 
 Magennis — two ' ' 
 
 "Our neighbour of Barnagheela ?" exclaimed Martin, in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " The same, Sir. I left him there at the port wine, and my word 
 for it but they'll not get him away easily, though Father Eafterty 
 Avill do his best " 
 
 " And was the Priest also of the party ?" 
 
 " He was, Sir ; and sat at the Colonel's left, and was treated with 
 every honour and distinction." 
 
 " Eh, Martin, am I a true prophet ? — answer me that. Has Yal 
 Hepton foretold the course of events we are entering upon, or has he 
 not ?" 
 
 " But this is a regular outrage — an open insult to us !" cried 
 JMartin. " Here is a leading member of the Government entertain- 
 ing the very men who opposed and defeated us — actually caressing 
 the very party which they enlisted us to crush !" 
 
 "This game is within every child's comprehension!" said Eepton. 
 " a you, and men of your stamp and fortune, could have secured them 
 a parliamentary majority, they'd have preferred you. You'd be plea- 
 santer to deal with, less exacting, more gentlemanly in fact ; but, as 
 you failed to do this — as it was plain and clear you had not the people 
 with you — why, they've thrown you over witliout a scruple, and 
 taken into their favour the men who can and will serve them. I 
 don't mean to say that the bargain is a good one — nay, I believe the 
 price of such aid will be very costly j but what do they care ? It ie
 
 286 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MA.ETIN". 
 
 one of the blessings of a representative Government tliat Tories have 
 to pay Wliig debts, and Wliigs are bcirs to Tory defalcations." 
 
 " Were politics discussed at table ?" asked Martin, half impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " All manner of subjects. We had law, and the assizes, and the 
 grand jury lists, and who ought to be high sheriffs, and who not. 
 And young Massingbred made a kind of a speech " 
 
 " "Was he there also ?" 
 
 " That he was ; and did the honours of the foot of the table, and 
 made it the pleasantest place too ! The way he introduced a toast 
 to the independent and enlightened electors of Oughterard was as 
 neat a thing as ever I heard." 
 
 "The devil take the whole batch of them!" cried Martin. "To 
 think that I've spent nearly three thousand pounds for such a set of 
 scoundrels is past endurance. I'll never set foot amongst them again ; 
 as long as I live I'll never enter that town." 
 
 "Pather Neal's own words," cried Crow. "' "We've done with 
 Martin for ever,' said he. ' This election was his "Waterloo. He may 
 abdicate now !' " 
 
 "And that sentiment was listened to by the Chief Secretary?" 
 exclaimed Martin. 
 
 " If he wasn't deaf he couldn't help hearing it, for we all did ; and 
 when I ventured to observe that a country was never the better for 
 losing the patrons of art, and the great families that could encourage 
 a genius, young Massingbred said, ' Give up Moses, Mr. Crow— give 
 up Moses, and paint Daniel O'Connell, and you'll never want admirers 
 and supporters !' And they drowned me in a roar of laughter." 
 
 " I wish my Lady could only hear all this," said Eepton, in a 
 whisper to Martin. 
 
 " Always provided that I were somewhere else !" answered Martin. 
 " But to be serious, Eepton, I'll hold no intercourse with men who 
 treat us in this fashion. It is absurd to suppose that the Secretary 
 could receive at his table this rabble — this herd of low, vulvar " 
 
 " Eh— what !" broke in Crow, with an expression of such truly 
 comic misery as made Eepton shake with laughter. 
 
 " I didn't mean yoit, Crow— I never thought of including you in 
 such company— but if these be Colonel Massingbred's guests, I'll 
 swear that Godfrey Martin shall not be my Lord Eeckington's !" 
 And with this bold resolve, uttered in a voice and manner of very 
 unusual firmness, Martin arose and left the room. 
 
 "On the whole, then, your party was a pleasant one?" said
 
 THE MAETEPrS OF CEO' MAETES'. 287 
 
 Hepton, anxious to lead Crow into some further details of tlie late 
 dinner. 
 
 " "Well, indeed it was, and it was not," said the Artist, hesitatingly. 
 " It was like a picture with some fine hits in it — a dash of rich colour 
 here and there — hut no keeping ! — no general effect ! Tou under- 
 stand ? I myself took no share in the talk. I never understood it ; 
 but I could see that they who did were somehow at cross-purposes — 
 all standing in adverse lights — if I may use the expression. "When- 
 ever the Colonel himself, or one of the ' swells' of the company, came 
 out with a fine sentiment about regenerated Ireland, happy and 
 prosperous, and so forth, Magennis was sure to break in with some 
 violent denunciation of the infernal miscreants, as he called the land- 
 lords, or the greatest curse of the land — the Law Church!" 
 
 " And how did Father Neal behave ?" 
 
 " "With great decorum — the very greatest. He moderated all Tom's 
 violence, and repeatedly said that he accepted no participation in such 
 illiberal opinions. ' "We have grievances, it is true,' said he, ' but we 
 live under a Government able and willing to redress them. It shall 
 never be said of us that we were either impatient or intolerant.' 
 ' "With such support, no Government was ever weak !' said the 
 Colonel, and they took wine together." 
 
 " That was very pleasant to see !" said Eepton. 
 
 "So it was. Sir," rejoined Crow, innocently; " and I thought to 
 myself, if there was only an end of all their squabbling and fighting, 
 they'd have time to cultivate the arts and cherish men of genius — if 
 they had them!" added he, after a pause. 
 
 " Father Neal, then, made a favourable impression, you'd say?" 
 asked Eepton, half carelessly. 
 
 " I'd say, very favourable — very favourable indeed. I remarked 
 that he always spoke so freely, so liberally. Twice or thrice, too, he 
 said, ' If the Papists do this, that, or t'other ;' and when the Colonel 
 asked whether the Catholics of Ireland submitted implicitly to Eome 
 in all things, lie laughed heartily, and said, ' About as much as we do 
 to the Cham of Tartary !' 
 
 " ' I'd like to examine our friend there before the Committee,' 
 whispered an old Gentleman at the Colonel's right hand. 
 
 " ' It was the very thing was passing through my own mind at the 
 minute,' said the Colonel. 
 
 " ' That's exactly the kind of thing we want,' said the old Gentle- 
 man again — ' a bold, straiglitforward denial — something that would 
 tell admirably with the Ilouse !'
 
 288 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MAKTIN. 
 
 " * Present me to your friend Massingbred !' And then the Chief 
 Secretary said, 'The Member for Strudeham — Mr. Crutchley — ia 
 very desirous of being known to you, Mr. EafFerty.' And there was 
 great smiling, and bowing, and drinking wine together after that." 
 
 Martin now re-entered the room, and taking liis place at the tabic, 
 sat for some minutes in moody silence. 
 
 " AVell," said Kepton, " what does my Lady think of your tidings?" 
 
 " She says she doesn't believe it !" 
 
 " Doesn't believe that these people dined with Massingbred — that 
 Crow saw them — heard them — dined with them ?" 
 
 "No, no — not that," said Martin gently, and laying his hand 
 familiarly on Crow's arm. " Don't mistake me, nor don't let Eeptou 
 play the lawyer with us and pervert the evidence. Lady Dorothea 
 can't believe that her distinguished relative, the Viceroy, would ever 
 countenance this game; that — that — in fact, we're to dine there, 
 Eepton, and see for ourselves! Though," added he, after a brief 
 pause, " what we are to see, or what we are to do when we've seen it, 
 I wish anybody would tell me!" 
 
 " Then I'll be that man !" said Eepton, with a mock solemnity, and 
 imitating the tone and manner of a Judge delivering sentence. 
 " You'll go from this place to the Lodge, where you'll be fed ' to 
 the neck,' feasted and flattered, and all your good resolves and high 
 purposes will be cut down, and your noble indignation buried within 
 the precincts of your own hearts!" 
 
 And, so saying, he arose from the table and extended his hand to 
 take leave, with all the gravity of a solemn farewell. 
 
 "If you could say a word to his Excellency about Moses," mut- 
 tered Crow, as he was leaving the room, " it would be the making 
 of me !" But Martin never, heeded tlie appeal — perhaps he never 
 heard it.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIK, 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 DARKENING FORTUNES. 
 
 The INIartius had always lived a life of bauglity estrangement from 
 tlieir neighbours ; there were none of exactly their own rank and 
 pretensions within miles of them, and they were too proud to acknow- 
 ledge the acquaintance of a small squirearchy, which was all that the 
 country around could boast. Xotwithstanding all the isolation of 
 their existence, then* departure created a great void in the county, and 
 their absence was sensibly felt by every class around. The very re- 
 quirements of a large fortune suggest a species of life and vitality — 
 the movement of servants — the passing and repassing of carriages — 
 the necessary intercourse with market and post — all impart a degree 
 of bustle and movement, terribly contrasted by the unbroken stillness 
 of a deserted mansion. 
 
 Lady Dorothea had determined tliat there should be no am- 
 biguity as to the cause of their departure ; she had given the most 
 positive orders on this head to every department of the household. 
 To teach an ungrateful people the sore consequences of their own in- 
 gratitude, the lesson should be read in everything : in the little 
 villages thrown out of work — in tlie silent quarries — the closed 
 school-houses — the model farm converted into grass-land — even to 
 the grand entrance, now built up by a wall of coarse masonry — tlie 
 haughty displeasure of the proud mistress revealed itself, all proclaim- 
 ing the sentiment of a deep, unforgiving vengeance. She had tortured 
 her ingenuity for details which should indicate her anger ; nor was 
 she satisfied if licr displeasure should not find its way into everv 
 cabin and at every hearth. The small hamlet of Cro' Martin had 
 possessed a dispensary ; a hard-working, patient, and skilful man 
 had passed many years of life there as the doctor, eking out the poor 
 subsistence of that unfavoured lot, and supporting a family by a life 
 of dreary toil. From this her Ladyship's subscription — the half of 
 all his salary — was now to be withdrawn. She thought " Cloves was 
 grown negligent — it might be age : if so, a younger man would be 
 better ; besides, if he could aflbrd to dress his three daughters in the 
 manner he did, he sui-ely could not require her thirty pounds per 
 annum." The servants, too, complained, that he constantly mistook 
 
 u
 
 290 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 
 
 their complaints. lu fact, judgment was recorded against Cloves, 
 and there was none to recommend him to mercy ! 
 
 AYe have said that there was a little chapel within the bounds of 
 the demesne ; it occupied a corner of a ruin which once had formed 
 Cro' Martin i\.bbey, and now served for the village church. It was 
 very small, but still large enough for its little congregation. The 
 vicar of this humble benefice was a very old man, a widower, and 
 childless, though once the father of a numerous family. Doctor 
 Leslie had, some eighteen years back, been unfortunate enough to 
 incur her Ladyship's displeasure, and was consequently never invited 
 to the Castle, nor recognised in any way, save by the haughty salute 
 that met him as he left the church. To save him, however, a long 
 and tedious walk on Sundays, he was permitted to make use of a 
 little private path to the church, which led through one of the shrub- 
 beries adjoining his own house — a concession of the more consequence, 
 as he was too poor to keep a carriage of the humblest kind. This 
 was now ordered to be closed up, the gate removed, and a wall to 
 replace it. " The poor had got the habit of coming that way ; it was 
 never intended for their use, but they had usurped it. To-morrow 
 or next day we should hear of its being claimed at law as a public 
 right of passage. It was better to do the thing in time. In short, it 
 must be 'closed.' " By some such reasoning as this, Lady Dorothea 
 persuaded herself to this course, and who should gainsay her ? Oh, 
 if men would employ but one-tenth of all that casuistry by which 
 they minister to their selfishness, in acts of benevolence and good 
 feeling — if they would only use a little sophistry, to induce them to do 
 right — what a world this might be ! 
 
 Mary Martin knew nothing of these decisions ; overwhelmed by 
 the vast changes on every side, almost crushed beneath the difficul- 
 ties that surrounded her, her first few weeks passed over like a dis- 
 turbed dream. Groups of idle, unemployed people saluted her in 
 mournful silence as she passed the roads. Interrupted works, half- 
 executed plans met her eye at every turn, and at every moment the 
 same words rang in her ears, "Her Ladyship's orders," as the expla- 
 nation of all. 
 
 Hitherto her life had been one of unceasing exertion and toil ; from 
 early dawn to late night she had been employed; her fatigues, 
 however, great as they were, had been always allied with power. 
 "What she willed she could execute. Means never failed her, no 
 matter how costly the experiment, to carry out her plans, and diffi- 
 culty gave only zest to every undertaking. There is nothing more 
 captivating than this sense of imcontroUed ability for action, especially
 
 THE MARTINS Or CEO' MARTIN. 291 
 
 when exercised by one of a warm and enthusiastic nature. To feel 
 herself the life and spring of every enterprise, to know that she sug- 
 gested and carried out each plan, that her ingenuity devised and her 
 energy accomplished all the changes around her, was in itself a great 
 fascination, and now suddenly she was to awake from all this, and find 
 herself unoccupied and powerless. AVilliugly, without a regret, could 
 she abdicate from all the pomp and splendour of a great household ; 
 she saw troops of servants depart, equipage sold, great apartments 
 closed up without a pang ! To come down to the small conditions of 
 narrow fortune in her daily life cost her nothing, beyond a smile. 
 It was odd, it was strange, but it was no more ! Far otherwise, how- 
 ever, did she feel the circumstances of her impaired power. That 
 hundreds of workmen were no longer at her bidding, that whole 
 families no longer looked up to her for aid and comfort, these were 
 astounding facts, and came upon her with an actvial shock. 
 
 " For what am I left here ?" cried she, passionately, to Henderson, 
 as he met each suggestion she made by the one cold word " impos- 
 sible." " Is it to see destitution that I cannot relieve ? "Witness want 
 tliat I am powerless to alleviate ? To what end, or with what object, 
 do I remain ?" 
 
 " I canna say. Miss," was the dry response. 
 
 " If it be to humiliate me by the spectacle of my own inefficiency, 
 a day or a week will suffice for that— years could not teach me 
 more." 
 
 Henderson bowed what possibly might mean an acquiescence. 
 
 " I don't speak of the estate," cried she, earnestly ; " but what's to 
 become of the people ?" 
 
 " Many o' them will emigrate, Miss, I've na doubt," said he, 
 " when they see there's nothing to bide for." 
 
 " You take it easily, Sir. You see little hardship in men having to 
 leave home and country ; but I tell you, that home may be poor, and 
 country cruel, and yet both very hard to part with." 
 
 "That's vara true. Miss," was the dry response. 
 
 " For anything there is now to be done here, you, Sir, are to the 
 full as competent as I am. I ask again — To what end ami here ?" 
 
 Giving to her question a very difi"erent significance from what she 
 intended, Henderson calmly said, "I thought, Miss, it was just yer 
 ain wish, and for no other reason." 
 
 Mary's cheek became crimson, and her eyes flashed with angry in- 
 dignation ; but, repressing the passion that was bursting within her, 
 she walked hastily up and down the room in silence. At length, 
 opening a large coloured map of the estate which lay on the table, 
 
 u2
 
 292 THE MABTTNS OF CEO MARTIN. 
 
 she stood attentively considering it for some time. " The works at 
 Carrigalone are stopped?" said she, hastily. 
 
 " Yes, Miss." 
 
 " And the planting at Kyle's Wood ?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss." 
 
 " And even the thinning there — is that stopped ?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss ; the bark is to be sold, and a' the produce of the wood 
 for ten years, to a contractor, a certain Mister " 
 
 " I don't want his name, Sir. AVLat of the marble quarries ?" 
 
 " My Lady thinks they're nae worth a' they cost, and won't hear 
 o' their being worked again." 
 
 " And is the harbour at Kilkieran to be given up ?" 
 
 '•' Yes, Miss, and the Osprey's Nest will be let. I think they'll 
 mak' an Inn or a Public o' it." 
 
 " And if the harbour is abandoned, what is to become of the 
 fishermen ? The old quay is useless." 
 
 " Vara true. Miss ; but there's a Company goin' to take the Eoyal- 
 ties o' the coast the whole way to Belmullet." 
 
 "A Scotch company, Mr. Henderson?" said Mary, with a sly 
 malice in her look. 
 
 " Yes, Miss," said he, colouring slightly. " The house of 
 M'Grotty and Co. is at the head o' it." 
 
 " And are they the same enterprising people who have proposed to 
 take the demesne on lease, provided the gardens be measured in as 
 arable land ?" 
 
 " They are, Miss ; they've signed the rough draft o' the lease this 
 morning." 
 
 " Indeed !" cried she, growing suddenly pale as death. "Are there 
 any other changes you can mention to me, since in the few days I 
 have been ill so much has occurred ?" 
 
 " There's nae muckle more to speak o'. Miss. James M'Grotty — 
 he's the younger brother — was here yesterday, to try and see you 
 about the school. He wants the house for his steward, but if you 
 object, he'll just take the Doctor's." 
 
 " Why — where is Doctor Cloves to go r" 
 
 " He docs na ken exactly. Miss. He thinks he'll try' Auckland, 
 or some of these new places in New Zealand." 
 
 " But the Dispensary must be continued — the people cannot be 
 left without medical advice." 
 
 "Mr. James says he'll think aboot it when he comes over in 
 summer. He's a vara spirited young man, and when there's a 
 meetin' house built in the village "
 
 THE MAETINS OF CBO' MARTIN. 293 
 
 " Enougli of this, Henderson. Come over here to-morrow, for I'm 
 not strong enough to hear more to-day, and let Mr. Scanlan know 
 that I wish to see him this evening." 
 
 And Mary motioned with her hand tliat lie should withdraw. 
 Scarcely was the door closed behind him than she burst into a 
 torrent of tears ; her long pent up agony utterly overpowered her, 
 and she cried with all the vehemence of a child's grief. Her heart 
 once opened to sorrow, by a hundred channels came tributaries to 
 her affliction. Up to that moment her uncle's departure had never 
 seemed a cruelty ; now, it took all the form of desertion ; the bitter- 
 ness of her forlorn condition had never struck her till it came asso- 
 ciated with all the sori'ows of others. It is not impossible that 
 wounded self-love entered into her feelings. It is b}' no means un- 
 likely that the sense of her own impaired importance added poignancy 
 to her misery. "Who shall anatomise motives, or who shall be skilful 
 enough to trace the springs of one human emotion? There Avas 
 assuredly enough outside of and above all personal consideration to 
 ennoble her grief and dignify lier affliction. 
 
 Her first impulses led her to regard herself as utterly useless, her 
 occupation gone, and her whole career of duty annihilated. A second 
 and a better resolve whispered to her that she was more than ever 
 needful to those who without her would be left without a friend. 
 " If I desert them, wlio is to remain ?" asked she. " It is true, I am 
 no more able to set in motion the schemes by which their indigence 
 was alleviated. I am powerless, but not all worthless. I can still be 
 their nurse — their comforter — their schoolmistress. My very ex- 
 ample may teacli them how altered fortune can be borne with forti- 
 tude and patience. They shall see me reduced to a thousand priva- 
 tions, and perhaps even this may bear its lesson." Drying her tears, 
 she began to feel within her some of the courage she hoped to inspire 
 in others, and anxious not to let old Catty detect the trace of sorrow 
 in her features, issued forth into the wood for a walk. 
 
 As the deep shadows thickened around lier, she grew calmer and 
 more meditative ; the solemn stillness of the place, the deep, unbroken 
 quietude, imparted its own soothing influence to her thoughts, and as 
 she went her heart beat freer, and her elastic temperament again arose 
 to cheer and sustain her. To confront the future boldly and well, it 
 was necessary that she should utterly forget the past. She could no 
 longer play the great part to which wealth and high station had 
 raised her ; she must now descend to that humbler one — all whose 
 influence should be derived from acts of kindness and words of 
 comfort, unaided by the greater benefits she had once dispensed.
 
 294 THE MARTINS OF CUO' MAUTIN. 
 
 The means placed at her disposal for her own expenditure had been 
 exceedingly limited. It was her own desire they should be so, and 
 Lady Dorothea had made no opposition to her wislies. Bevond this 
 she had notliiug, save a sum of five thousand pounds, payable at lier 
 uncle's death. By strictest economy — privation, indeed — she thought 
 that she could save about a hundred pounds a year of this small 
 income ; but to do so would require the sale of both her horses, re- 
 taining only the pony and the little carriage, while her dress should 
 be of the very simplest and plainest. In what way she 'should l)est 
 employ this sum was to be for after consideration. The first thouglit 
 was how to effect the saving without giving to the act any unneces- 
 sary notoriety. She felt that her greatest difficulty wouli be old 
 Catty Broon. The venerable housekeeper had all her life regarded 
 her with an affection that was little short of worship. It was 
 not alone the winning graces of Mary's manner, nor the attrac- 
 tive charms of her appearance, that had so captivated old Catty, but 
 that the young girl, to her eyes, represented the great family whose 
 name she bore, and represented them so worthily. The title of the 
 Princess, by which the county people knew her, seemed her just and 
 rightful designation. Mary realised to her the proud scion of a 
 proud stock, who had ruled over a territory rather than a mere 
 estate ; how, then, could she bear to behold her in all the straits and 
 difficulties of a reduced condition ? There seemed but one way to 
 effect this, which Avas to give her new mode of life the character of 
 a caprice. " I must make old Catty believe it is one of my wild and 
 wilful fancies — a sudden whim — out of which a little time will doubt- 
 less rally me. She is the last in the world to limit me in the indul- 
 gence of a momentary notion ; she will, therefore, concede everything 
 to my humour, patiently awaiting the time when it shall assume a 
 course the very opposite." 
 
 Some one should, however, be entrusted with her secret— witli out 
 some assistance it could not be carried into execution— and who should 
 that be ? Alas, her choice was a very narrow one. It lay between 
 Scanlan and Henderson. The crafty Attorney was not, indeed, much 
 to Mary's liking; his flippant vulgarity and pretension were qualities 
 she could ill brook, but she had known him do kind things ; she liad 
 seen him on more than one occasion temper the sliarpness of some of 
 her Ladyship's ukases, little snspecting, indeed, how far the possible 
 impression upon herself Avas the motive that so guided him ; she had, 
 therefore, no difficulty in preferring him to the Steward, whose very 
 accent and manner were enough to render him hateful to her. Scanlan, 
 besides, Avould necessarily have a great deal in his power ; he would
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO MABTIN. 295 
 
 be able to make many a concessiou to the poor people on the estate, 
 retard the cruel progress of the law, or give them time to provide 
 against its demands. Mary felt that she was in a position to exercise 
 a certain influence over him ; and, conscious of the goodness of the 
 cause she would promote, never hesitated as to the means of employ- 
 ing it. 
 
 Who shall say, too, that she had not noticed the defei'ential admira- 
 tion by which he always distinguished her ? for there is a species of 
 coquetry that takes pleasure in a conquest where the profits of 
 victory would be thoroughly despised. "We are not bold enough to 
 say that such feelings foimd their place in Mary's heart. We must 
 leave its analysis to wiser and more cunning anatomists. 
 
 Straying onwards ever in deep thought, and not remarking whitlier, 
 she was suddenly struck by the noise of masonry — strange sounds in 
 a spot thus lonely and remote — and now walking quickly onward, she 
 found herself on the path by which the Vicar on Sundays approached 
 the church, and here, at a little distance, descried workmen employed 
 in walling up the little gateway of the passage. 
 
 "By w^hose orders is this done?" cried Mary, to whose quick in- 
 telligence the act revealed its whole meaning and motive. 
 
 "Mr. Henderson, Miss," replied one of the men. "He said we 
 were to work all night at it, if we couldn't be sure of getting it done 
 before Sunday." 
 
 A. burst of passionate indignation rose to her lips, but she turned 
 away without a word, and re-entered the wood in silence. 
 
 " Tes," cried she to herself, " it is, indeed, a new existence is 
 opening before me ; let me strive so to control my temper, that I may 
 view it calmly and dispassionately, so that others may not sufl'er from 
 the changes in m>/ fortune." 
 
 She no sooner reached the house than she despatched a note to 
 Mr. Scanlan, requesting to see him as early as possible on the follow- 
 ing morning. This done, she set herself to devise her plans for the 
 future — speculations, it must be owned, to which licr own hopeful 
 temperament gave a colouring that a colder spirit and more calcu- 
 lating mind had never bestowed on them.
 
 29G THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 CIIAPTEE XXYIII. 
 
 now Mn. SCANLAN GIVES SCOTE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE. 
 
 It is a remark of AVieland's, that althougli the life of man is mea- 
 sured by the term of fourscore years and ten, yet that his ideal ex- 
 istence, or, as he calls it, his " unacted life," meaning thereby his 
 period of dreamy, projective, and forecasting existence, would occupy 
 a far wider space. And he goes on to say that it is in this same 
 imaginative longevity men differ the most from each other, the Poet 
 standing to. the nngifted Peasant in the ratio of centuries to years. 
 
 Mr. Maurice Scanlau would not appear a favourable subject by 
 which to test this theory. If not endowed with any of the higher 
 and greater qualities of intellect, he was equally removed from any 
 deficiency on that score. The world called him " a clever fellow," 
 and the world is rarely in fault in such judgments. "Where tliere is a 
 question of the creative faculties, where it is the divine essence itself 
 is the matter of decision, the world will occasionally be betrayed into 
 mistakes, as fashion and a passing enthusiasm may mislead it ; but, 
 where it is the practical and the real, the exercise of gifts by which 
 men make themselves rich and powerful, then the "World makes no 
 blunders. She knows them as a mother knows her children. They 
 are indeed the " World's own." 
 
 We have come to these speculations by contemplating Mr. Scanlan 
 as he sat with Mary Martin's open letter before him. The note was 
 couched in polite terms, requesting Mr. Scanlan to favour the writer 
 with a visit at his earliest convenience — if possible early on the fol- 
 lowing morning. Had it been a document of suspected authenticity — 
 a forged acceptance — an interpolated article in a deed — a newly-dis- 
 covered codicil to a will — he could not have canvassed every syllable, 
 scrutinised every letter with more searching zeal. It was hurriedly 
 written : there was, therefore, some emergency. It began, " Dear 
 Sir," a style she had never employed before. The letter " D" was 
 blotted, and seemed to have been originally destined for an "M," as 
 though she had commenced Miss Martin requests, &c., and then 
 suddenly adopted the more familiar address. The tone of command 
 by which he was habitually summoned to Cro' Martin was assuredly 
 not there, and Maurice was not the man to undervalue the smallest 
 particle of evidence.
 
 TKE MABTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 297 
 
 "She has need of me," cried he to himself; "she sees everything 
 ill a state of subversiou and chaos around her, and looks to me as the 
 man to restore order. The people are entreating her to stay law 
 proceedings — to give them time — to employ them — the poorest are 
 all importuning her with stories of their sufferings. She is povs'er- 
 less, and, what's worse, she docs not know what it is to be powerless 
 to help them. She'll struggle, and fret, and scheme, and plan fifty 
 things, and wlien she has failed in them all, fall back upon Maurice 
 Scanlan for advice and counsel." 
 
 It was a grave question with Scanlan how far he would suffer lier 
 persecutions to proceed before he would come to her aid. " If I 
 bring my succour too early, she may never believe the emergency 
 Avas critical ; if I delay it too long, she may abandon the field in 
 despair, and set ofi" to join her uncle." These were the two pro- 
 positions which he placed before himself for consideration. It was a 
 case for very delicate management, great skill, and great patience, 
 but it was well worth all the cost. " If I succeed," said he to him- 
 self, " I'm a made man. Maiy Martin Mrs. Scanlan, I'm the agent 
 for the whole estate, with Cro' Martin to live in, and all the pro- 
 perty at my discretion. If I fail — that is, if I fail Avithout blunder- 
 ing—I'm just wbere I was. Well," thought he, as he drove into the 
 demesne, " I never thought I'd have such a chance as this. All gone, 
 and she alone here by herself; none to advise, not one even to keep 
 her company ! I'd have given a thousand pounds down just for this 
 opportunity, without counting all the advantages I have in my power 
 from my present position, for I can do what I like with the estate — 
 giA^e leases or break them. It Avill be four months at least before old 
 Ilepton comes down here, and in that time I'll have finished Avhatever 
 I Avant to do. And now to begiu the game." And with this he turned 
 into the stable-yard, aiid descended from his gig. Many men Avould 
 have been struck by the changed aspect of the place — silence and 
 desolation where before there Avere movement and bustle ; but 
 Scanlan only read in the altered appearances around, the encourage- 
 ment of his own ambitious hopes. Tlic easy swagger in which the 
 Attorney indulged while moving about the stable-yard declined into 
 a more becoming gait as he traversed the long corridors, and finally 
 becante actually respectftd as he drew nigh the Library", where he 
 Avas informed Miss Martin awaited him, so powerful Avas the in- 
 fluence of old habit over the more vulgar instincts of his nature. He 
 had intended to be very familiar and at his ease, and ere he turned 
 the handle of the door his courage failed him. 
 
 " This is very kind of you, Mr. Scanlan," said she, advancing a
 
 298 XUE MABTINS OP CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 few steps towards liim as be entered. " Ton must have started early 
 from home." 
 
 " At five, Miss," said he, bowing deferentially. 
 
 "And of course you have not breakfasted?" 
 
 " Indeed, then, I only took a cup of coffee. I was anxious to be 
 early. I thought from your note that there might be something 
 urgent." 
 
 Mary half smiled at the mingled air of bashfulness and gallantry 
 in which he uttered these broken sentences ; for without knowing it 
 himself, while he began in some confusion, he attained a kind of 
 confidence as he went on. 
 
 "Nor have I breakfasted either," said she ; "and I beg, therefore, 
 you will join me." 
 
 Scanlan's face actually glowed with pleasure. 
 
 " I have many things to consult you upon with regard to the 
 estate, and I am fully aware that there is nobody more competent to 
 advise me." 
 
 "Nor more ready and willing, Miss," said Maurice, bowing. 
 ■ " I'm perfectly certain of that, Mr. Scanlan. The confidence my 
 uncle has always reposed in you assures me on that head." 
 
 "Wasn't I right about the borough. Miss Mary?" broke he in. 
 " I told you how it would be, and that if you didn't make some sort 
 of a compromise with the Liberal party " 
 
 " Let me interrupt you, Mr. Scanlan, and once for all assure you 
 that there is not one subject of all those which pertain to this county 
 and its people which has so little interest for me as the local squabbles 
 of party ; and I'm sure no success on either side is worth the broken 
 friendships and esti-anged affections it leaves behind it." 
 
 "A beautiful sentiment, to Avhich I respond with all my heart," 
 rejoined Scanlan, with an energy that made her blush deeply. 
 
 " I only meant to say, Sir," added she, hastily, " that the borough 
 and its politics need never be discussed between us." 
 
 "Just so, Miss. We'll call on the next case," said Scanlan. 
 
 " My uncle's sudden departure, and a slight indisposition under 
 which I have laboured for a week or so, have thrown me so far in 
 arrear of all knowledge of what has been done here, that I must first 
 of all ask you, not how the estate is to be managed in future, but 
 does it any longer belong to us ?" 
 
 " What, Miss?" cried Scanlan, in amazement. 
 
 " I mean, Sir, is it my uncle's determination to lease out every- 
 thing — even to the demesne around the Castle ; to sell the timber 
 and dispose of the royalties ? If so, a mere residence here could
 
 THE MARTINS OF CHO' MAETIK. 299 
 
 Lave no object for one. It seems strange, Mr. Scanlan, that I should 
 have to ask such a question. I own to you — it is not without some 
 sense of humiliation that I do so — I believed, I fancied I had under- 
 stood my uncle's intentions. Some of them he had even committed 
 to writing, at my request ; you shall see them yourself The excite- 
 ment and confusion of his departure — the anxieties of leave-taking — 
 one thing or another, in short, gave me little time to seek his counsel 
 as to many points I Avished to know ; and, in fact, I found myself 
 suddenly alone before I was quite prepared for it, and then I fell ill 
 — a mere passing attack, but enough to unfit me for occupation." 
 
 " Breakfast is served. Miss," said a maid-servant at this conjunc- 
 ture, opening a door into a small room, where the table was spread. 
 
 "I'm quite ready, and so I hope is Mr. Scanlan," said Mary, lead- 
 ing the way. 
 
 No sooner seated at table than she proceeded to do the honours 
 with an ease that plainly told that all the subject of her late discourse 
 was to be left for the present in abeyance. In fact, the very tone of 
 her voice was clianged, as she chatted away carelessly about the 
 borough people and their doings, what strangers had lately passed 
 through the town, and the prospects of the coming season at Kil- 
 kieran. 
 
 No theme could more readily have put Mr. Scanlan at his ease. 
 He felt, or fancied he felt, himself at that degree of social elevation 
 above the Oughterard people, which enabled him to talk with a 
 species of compassionate jocularity of their little dinners and evening 
 parties. He criticised toilet, and manners, and cookery, therefore, 
 with much self-complacency — far more than had he suspected that 
 Mary Martin's anuisement was more derived from the pretension of 
 the speaker than the matter which he discussed. 
 
 " That's what I think you'll find hardest of all, Miss Martin," said 
 he, at the close of a florid description of the borough customs. " Tou 
 can have no society here." 
 
 "And yet I mean to try," said she, smiling; "at least, I have 
 gone so far as to ask Mrs. Nelligan to come and dine with me on 
 Monday or Tuesday next." 
 
 " Mrs. Nelligan dine at Cro' Martin !" exclaimed he. 
 
 " If she will be good enough to come so far for so little !" 
 
 " She'd go fifty miles on the same errand ; and if I know old Joe 
 himself, he'll be a prouder man that day than when his son gained 
 the gold medal." 
 
 " Then I'm sure I, at least, am perfectly requited," said Mary. 
 
 " But are you certain, Miss, that such people will suit you ?" said
 
 300 Till: MARTINS or CUO' MAKTIK. 
 
 Soanlan, half timidly. "Thoy live in a very difVorcnt stylo, and have 
 other ways than yours. 1 say nolhinj^ aj^ainst Mrs. Nolli^an ; indeed, 
 she eomes of a very respeelable family ; but sure she hasn't a thought 
 nor an idea in eommon with Miss Martin." 
 
 "1 suspcet you are wronp; there, Mr. Scanlan. My impression 
 is, that Mrs. Nelligau and I will find many topics to agree upon, and 
 that we shall understand each other pcrfeetly ; and if, as you suppose, 
 there may be certain things new and strange to me in Iirr modes of 
 Ihinkiiig, I'm equally sure she'll have to eoiupuH' many prejudices 
 with regard to inc." 
 
 "I'm afraid you'll bo disappointed, I\Iiss !" was the scuteutious 
 n^ply of Scanlan. 
 
 "Then there's our Viear!" broke in ^Nlary. " ^Ir. Leslie will, 1 
 hope, take pity on my solitude." 
 
 " Indeed, I forgot him entirely. I dou't think I ever saw him at 
 Cro' :Martin." 
 
 " Nor 1 either," said IMary ; " but he may concede from a sense of 
 kindness what he \\(>uld decline to a mere point of etiquette. In a 
 word, Mr. Scanlan," said she, aller a ])ausc, "all the troubles and 
 misfortunes which we have lately gone through — even to the destitu- 
 tion of the old house here — have in a great measure had their origin 
 in the studious ignorance in which we have lived of our neighbours. 
 I don't wish to enter upon political topics, but I am sure, that had 
 A\e known the borough people, and they us — had we been in the 
 habit of mingling and associating together, however little — had we 
 interchanged the little civilities, that are the charities of social life, 
 we'd ha\e paused, either of us, cro we gave pain to the other; we'd 
 at least have made concessions on each side, and so softened down the 
 asperities of party. Mon^ than half the einuities of the world are 
 mere misconceptions." 
 
 "That's true!" said Scanlan, gravely. But his thoughts had gone 
 on a vi'ry dilVerent cTrand from the theme in question, and were 
 busily inquiring what elVeet all these changes might have upon his 
 own prospects. 
 
 " And now lor a matliM* of business," said IMary, rising and taking 
 her place at another table. " I shall want your assistance, I\lr. 
 Scanlan. There is a small sum settled upon me, but not payable 
 during my uncle's life. 1 wish to raise a certain amount of this, by 
 w.xyofloan — say a thousand pounds. AVill t])i.s be casilv accom- 
 plished?" 
 
 " What's the amount of the settlement, i\liss?" said Scaulan, witU 
 more eagerness than was quite disiutcrcstcd.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIX, 801 
 
 " Five thousaud pounds. Tliere is the deed." And she pushed a 
 parchment to^vards him. 
 
 Scanlan ran his practised eve rapidly over the document, and with 
 the quick craft of his calling saw it was all correct. " One or even two 
 thousand can be had upon this at once, Miss. It's charged upon 
 
 Kelly's form aud 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 me- 
 moranda my uncle left with me as to his wishes respecting the 
 management of the estate. You will see that, although he desires a 
 considerable diminution of the sum to be spent in wages, and a strict 
 economy in all outlay, that he still never contemplated throwing the 
 people out of employment. The quarries were to be worked as 
 before — the planting was to be continued — the gardens and orna- 
 mental grounds, indeed, were to be conducted with less expense ; but 
 the harbour at Kilkieran and the new school-house at Ternagh were to 
 be completed ; and, if money could be spared for it, he gave me leave to 
 build a little hospital at the cross-roads, allowing forty pounds addi- 
 tional salary to Doctor Cloves for his attendance. These are the chief 
 points ; but you shall have the papers to read over at your leisure. 
 "We talked over many other matters ; indeed, we chatted away till long 
 after two o'clock the last night he was here, and I thought I under- 
 stood perfectly all he wished. Almost his last words to me at part- 
 ing were, ' As little change as possible, Molly. Let the poor people 
 believe that I am still, where my heart is, under the roof of Cro' 
 Martin!'" 
 
 The recollection of the moment brought the tears to her eyes, and 
 she turned away her head in silence. 
 
 "Now," said she, rallying, and speaking with renewed energy, " if 
 what Henderson says be correct, something later must have been 
 issued than all this ; some directions w*hich I have never seen — not so 
 much as heard of. lie tells me of works to be stopped, people dis- 
 charged, school-houses closed, tenants ejected ; in fact, a whole cata- 
 logue of such changes as I never could have courage to see, much less 
 to 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 i'or 
 such an undertaking." 
 
 " And have you received no letter from jMr. Martin from Dublin ?" 
 asked Scanlan. 
 
 " None — not a line ; a note from my aunt — indeed, not from my
 
 302 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 aunt, but by ber orders, written by Kate Henderson — bas reacbed 
 me, in wbicb, bowevcr, tbere is no allusion to the property, or tbe 
 place," 
 
 " And yet ber Ladysbip said tbat Mr. Martin would write to you 
 bimself, in tbe course of tbe week, fully and explicitly." 
 
 " To Avbom was tbis said, Sir ?" 
 
 "To myself. Miss ; tbere is tbe letter!" And Scanlan drew from 
 bis pocket-book a very voluminous epistle, in Kate Henderson's band. 
 " This contains tbe wbole of ber Ladysbip' s instructions. How all 
 tbe works are to be stopped — roads, woods, and quarries ; tbe town- 
 lands of Carrigalone and Killybogue to be distrained ; Kyle-a-Noe 
 tbe same. If a tenant can be got for tbe demesne, it is to be let, 
 with tbe sbooting over tbe seven mountains, and tbe coast-fisbing 
 too. Tbere's to be no more charges for schools, hospitals, or dispen- 
 sary after next November ; everything is to be on the new plan, Avbat 
 they call ' Self-supporting.' I'd like to know what tbat means. In 
 fact, Miss, by tbe time one half tbe orders given in tbat 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 tbis is sanctioned by my uncle !" 
 
 " I suppose we must conclude it is, for be says nothing to tbe con- 
 trary ; and Mr. Eepton writes me, what he calls ' my instructions,' in 
 a way tbat shows bis own feeling of indignation about tbe whole 
 business." 
 
 Mary was silent ; there was not a sentiment which coidd give pain 
 tbat bad not then its place in ber heart. Commiseration, deep pity 
 for tbe sorrows she was to witness unavailingly, wounded pride, 
 insulted self-esteem — all wei^e tbere ! And she turned away to bide 
 the emotions which overcame ber. For a moment the sense of self 
 bad tbe mastery, and she thought but of bow site was to endiu'e all 
 tbis humiliation. " Am I," said she to ber own heart — " am I to be 
 insulted by tbe rivalry of Scotcb stewards and gardeners, to be thrust 
 from my place of power by some low-born creature, not even of tbe 
 soil, but an alien ? — to live here bereft of influence, representing 
 notliing save tbe decay of our fortunes ?" The torrent of her passion 
 ran full and deep, and ber bosom heaved in tbe agony of the moment. 
 And then as suddenly came tbe reaction. " How small a share is 
 mme in all this suffering — and bow miserably selfish are even my 
 sorrows. It is of others I should think ! — of those who must leave 
 hearth and home to seek out a new resting place — of the poor, who 
 are to be friendless — of tbe suffering, to whom no comfort is to
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MABTIN. 303 
 
 come ! — of the old, who are to die in distant lands — and the young, 
 whose hearts are never to warm to the affections of a native country !" 
 
 While affecting to arrange the papers in liis pocket-book, Scanlan 
 watched every passing shade of emotion in her face. JN'or was it a 
 study in which he was ignorant ; the habits of his calling had made 
 him a very subtle observer. Many a time had he framed his question 
 to a witness by some passing expression of the features. More than 
 once had he penetrated the heart through the eye ! The elevation 
 of sentiment had given its own character to her handsome face ; and 
 as she stood proudly erect, with arms folded on her breast, there was 
 in her look and attitude all the calm dignity of an antique statue. 
 
 Scanlan interpreted truthfully what passed within her ; and rightly 
 judged tliat no small sentiment of condolence or sympathy would be 
 appropriate to the occasion. Xor was he altogether unprovided for 
 the emergency. He had seen a King's Counsel warm up a Juiy to 
 the boiling point, and heard him pour forth, with all the seeming 
 vehemence of an honest conviction, the wildest rhapsodies about de- 
 secrated hearths and blackened roof-trees — talk of the spoiler and the 
 seducer — and even shed a tear over the " widow and the orphan!" 
 
 " What say you to all this, Sir ?" cried she. " Have you any 
 counsel to give me — any advice ?" 
 
 " It is just what I have not, Miss," said he, despondingly ; "'and, 
 indeed, it was uppermost in my heart this morning when I was 
 writing my letter. What's all I'm suffering compared to what Miss 
 Martin must feel ?" 
 
 " AVhat letter do you allude to ?" asked she, suddenly. 
 
 " A letter I wrote to Mr. Eepton, Miss," said he, with a deep sigh. 
 " I told him plainly my mind about everything, and I said, ' If it's for 
 exterminating you are — if you're going to turn out families that were 
 on the land for centuries, and drive away over the seas — God knows 
 wliere — 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 upon 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 !"
 
 301 THE mahtiks of cro' maetin. 
 
 " Oh, tliat was noble — that was truly noble conduct !" cried she, 
 grasping his hand in both her own. How I thank you from my 
 very heart for this magnanimity." 
 
 " If I ever suspected you'd have said the half of this, Miss Mary, 
 the sacrifice would have been a cheap one indeed. But in truth I 
 never meant to tell it. I intended to have kept my own secret ; for 
 I knew if any one only imagined why it was I threw up the agency, 
 matters would only be worse on the estate." 
 
 " Yes, you are right," said she, thoughtfully. " This was most 
 considerate. Sucli a censure would augment every difficulty." 
 
 " I felt that, Miss. "V\Tiat I said to myself was, ' My successor 
 will neither know the place nor the people ; he'll be cruel where he 
 ought to have mercy, and spare those that he ought to keep to their 
 duty.' It isn't in a day or a week that a man learns the habits of 
 a large tenantry, nor was it without labour and pains that I acquired 
 my present influence amongst them." 
 
 "Quite true," said she; but more as though following out her 
 own reflections than hearing his. 
 
 " They'll have you, however," said Scanlan. "Jbz^, 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! Eecall your letter." 
 
 " It's not gone off" to the post yet. I was waiting to see you " 
 
 " Better still. Oh ! Mr. Scanlan, bethink you how much yet may 
 be done for these poor people, if we will but forget ourselves and 
 what we think we owe to self-esteem. Vl you will have sacrifices to 
 make, believe me / 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 aiBictions. Neither 
 you nor I shall be to them what we have been ; but still, let us 
 not abandon them. Tell me this — say that you will stay to counsel 
 and advise me — to guide me where I need guidance, and give me 
 all the benefit of your experience and your knowledge. Let it 
 be a compact between us then — neither shall go while the other 
 remains!" 
 
 It was with difficulty Scanlan could restrain his delight at these 
 words. How flattering to his present vanity — how suggestive were
 
 THE MAUTINS OF CBO' MAETIN. 305 
 
 tliey of tbe future ! With all the solemnity of a vow he bouud 
 himself to stay ; and Mary thanlvcd 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 having merited this reward does 
 not seriously detract from this enjoyment. There are men, how- 
 ever, so constituted, that a successful scheme — no matter how un. 
 scrupulously achieved — is always a triumph, and who cherish their 
 self-love even in degradation ! Maurice Scanlau is before our reader, 
 and whether he was one of this number it is not for us to say ; 
 enough if we record that v.hcn lie cantered homeward on that day 
 he sang many a snatch of a stray ballad, and none of them were 
 sad ones. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A SUNDAY MORNING AT CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 NoTHiNa is further from our intention than to enter upon the 
 long- vexed question as to the benefits of an Established Church for 
 Ireland. Wiser heads than ours have discussed it polemically, 
 politically, socially, and arithmetically ; and there it is still, left to 
 the judgment of each, as his religion, his party, or his prejudices 
 sway him. There is one view of the subject, however, which no 
 traveller in the country has ever failed to be struck by, which is, 
 that these settlements of Protestantism, dotted through the land, 
 are so many types of an advanced civilisation, suggesting, even to 
 those of a different fiiith, respect and veneration for the decorous 
 observances of this Church, and the calm peacefulness with which 
 they keep the Sabbath. 
 
 Priests may denounce and Politicians declaim, but the Irish pea- 
 sant, nurtured with all the prejudices of race and religion, never 
 throws off his veneration for the little flock, who, like a brave garri- 
 son, in a besieged land, hold manfully together around tlie banner of 
 their Eaith ! How striking is this in remote parts of the country, 
 where the Eeformed Eeligion has made little progress, and its 
 followers are few in number. 
 
 It was Sunday : the gates of Cro' MarLin Park were ojien to admit 
 all who might repair to the church. AVhen the Martins were at home, 
 
 X
 
 306 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 Lady Dorothea used to give to these occasions somewhat of the state 
 of a procession. The servants wore their dress liveries ; two carriages 
 were in waiting. She herself appeared in a toilette that might have 
 graced a Court Chapel ; and a formal ceremoniousness of speech and 
 demeanour Averc ordained as the becoming recognition of the holy 
 day. Tx'aiued to these observances by many a year, Mary could 
 scarcely comprehend the strange sensation she felt as she walked 
 along to church, unattended and alone. It was a bright day of early 
 summer, with a soft wind stirring the leaves above, and rippling 
 pleasantly the Avaters of the lake ; the perfume of the new hay 
 floated through the thin air, Avith the odour of the white thorn and 
 the meadow-sweet ; the birds were singing merrily ; and through this 
 gay carol came the mellow sounds of the little bell that summoned to 
 prayer. There was a delicious sense of repose in the stillness around, 
 telling hoAV amid the cares and contentions of life, its wealth seek- 
 ings, and its petty schemes of greatness, there came moments when 
 the better instincts Avere 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 Avent, little glimpses were 
 caught by her of the distant country beyond the demesne ; and over 
 all there reigned the same tranquillity ; the sound of voices, far 
 away, adding to the effect, and making the silence more palpable. 
 "How peaceful it is," thought she, "and how happy it might be! 
 Could we but bridle our own passions, restrain our mean jealousies, 
 and curb the evil promptings of our own hearts, what blessings might 
 grow up amongst us ! But for objects not worth the attaining — 
 ambitions of no value when won — and my uncle might still be here, 
 strolling along, perhaps, with me at this very moment, and with me 
 drinking in this calm repose and soothing quietness." 
 
 Before her, at some little distance on the path, went the three 
 daughters of the village Doctor ; and, though Avell and becomingly 
 attired, there was nothing in their appearance to warrant the re- 
 proach Lady Dorothea had cast upon their style of dress. It was, 
 indeed, scrupulously neat, but simple. The eldest was a girl of about 
 sixteen, wdfch 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 
 his humble household, his secretary, his companion, Ellen Cloves, had 
 acquired, while little more than a child, the patient and submissive 
 temper that long Avorldly trial confers. They lived perfectly to them- 
 selves : between the society of the Castle and that of the farmers 
 around there was no intermediate territory, and thus they passed
 
 THE MABTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 307 
 
 tlieir lives in a little circle of home duties and affections, whicli made 
 lip 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 fami- 
 liarity with the peasant was so far safe that his station was a safe- 
 guard against any undue intimacy ; while your half-gentry were truly 
 perilous, for if you condescended to civility with them, they in- 
 variably mistook 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 neitlier host nor guest was liappy ; each felt that it was but the 
 acquaintance of an hour, and tliat with the moment of leave-taking 
 came back all the cold reserve of the day before. 
 
 " Good morning. Miss Cloves ; good day, Jane, and little Bessy," 
 said Mary, as she overtook them. 
 
 " Good morning to you. Miss Martin," said Ellen, blushing with 
 surprise at seeing her alone and on foot. 
 
 " I trust the Doctor is not ill? I don't see him with you," said 
 Mary, anxious to relieve her momentary embarrassment. 
 
 " Papa has been sent for to Knocktiernan, Miss Martin. They're 
 afraid tliat a case of cholera has occurred there." 
 
 "May God forbid!" ejaculated Mary, with deep emotion; "we 
 have great distress and poverty around us. I liope we may be spared 
 this scourge." 
 
 " It was what Papa feared always," rejoined Ellen, gravely, " that 
 want and destitution would bring on the malady." 
 
 " Have you heard who it is is ill ?" 
 
 " Simon Ilanley, the carpenter. Miss Martin ; he worked at the 
 Castle once " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I remember him ; he made me my first little garden- 
 rakc. 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 bum 
 
 X 2
 
 308 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIX. 
 
 through the foreliead iuto her very brain, and she could oiilv 
 nuitter: 
 
 "I'm sorry I didn't kll0^v; my carriage and pony were in tlie 
 
 stable. If I had but heard of tliis " and was silent. 
 
 They had now reached tlic entrance to the little cliurchyard, where 
 tlie 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 tlie end of the aisle, where 
 shrouded in heavy curtains, soft-cushioned and higli-panelled, stood 
 the Castle pew. 
 
 It must be, indeed, hard for the rich man to enter the kingdom of 
 Heaven. The very appliances of his piety are the offshoots of his 
 voluptuous habits ; and that his heart should feel humble, his hassock 
 must be of down ! It was not often that the words of the Pastor 
 were heard within that solemn, small enclosure with the same re- 
 verend devotion. Mary was now alone there : her mind no longer 
 distracted by the petty incidents of their coming, her proud station 
 seemed to have vanished, and she felt herself but as one of an humble 
 flock, supplicating and in sorrow ! 
 
 Dr. Leslie had heard of the terrible visitation which menaced them, 
 and made it the subject of his sermon. The fact of his own great 
 age and fast declining strength gave a deeper meaning to all he said, 
 and imparted to the faltering words of his benediction the solemuitv 
 of a farewell. 
 
 " Ton are a little fatigued to-day. Doctor," said Mary, as he came 
 out of church. '• Will you allow me to offer you my arm ?" 
 
 " Willingly, my dear Miss Mary. But this is not our road." 
 
 " AVhy so ? — this is the path to the A^icarage." 
 
 "They've made some change, my dear; they've altered the ap- 
 proach." 
 
 " And you came round by the avenue— a distance of two miles ?" 
 cried she, deep crimson wdth shame. 
 
 "And kept you all waiting; but not very long, I trust," said he, 
 smiling benevolently. " But come, talk to me of yourself, and when 
 I am to come and see you." 
 
 " Oh, my dear Doctor Leslie, you must not think that I— that my 
 . imcle " She stopped, and he pressed her hand gently, and said: 
 
 " Do not speak of it — do not give importance to things which are 
 trifles, if we have but good temper to leave them so ! Is to-morrow 
 a free day with you ; or when shall I hope to find you at leisure ?" 
 
 " My dear Doctor, every day will be so in future — all my functions 
 have ceased here. I am to be notliing in future."
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAIITIX. 309 
 
 " I had heard somethiag of that, and I said to myself, ' ^Xow Avill 
 Mary Martin display her real character. Isio longer carried away by 
 the mere enthusiasm of her great power and her high station — not 
 exalted to herself by the flatteries around her — we shall see whetlier 
 the sterling- qualities of her nature Avill not supply higher and greater 
 resources than all the credit at a banker's!' I never undervalued all 
 you did here, Mary Martin ; I saw your noble purpose, even in 
 failures ; but I always felt, that to make these efforts react favourably 
 on yourself, there should be something of sacrifice. To do good was 
 a luxury to you ; and it was a luxury very easy to purchase. You 
 were rich — you were powerful — none controlled you; your benefits 
 •were acknowledged Avith all the enthusiasm of peasant gratitude. 
 Why should you not be beneficent ? — what other course of conduct 
 could bring you one half the pleasure ? Yov 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 bound- 
 less stores. Let these be your riches now. Go amongst the people ; 
 learn to know them — rather their friend than their benefactor — and, 
 believe me, that all the gold you have scattered so generously, will 
 not have sown such seeds of goodness as the meek example of your 
 own noble submission to altered fortune. There, my dear," said he, 
 smiling, "I'll say no more, lest you should tell me that I have preached 
 half an hour already. And I may come to-morrow, you say ?" 
 
 " What a happiness it will be for me to speak to you," said Mary, 
 ardently. " There are so many things I want to say — so much on 
 which I need advice." 
 
 " I'm but little practised in the ways of the world," said he, w-ith 
 a gentle sigli, " but I have ever found great wisdom in an honest 
 purpose; and then," added he, more warmly, "it is a fine philo- 
 sophy, that secures us agaiust 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 lialted suddenly, struck as it were by the aspect of the 
 spacious and splendid structure, all silent and deserted. The doors 
 were closed, the windows shuttered — not a living creature moved 
 about the precincts — and the lone flagstaft' on the tower nnfurled no 
 " banner to the breeze." Even the trimly-kcpt parterres were be- 
 ginning to show signs of neglect, and tangled flowers fell across the 
 gravel. 
 
 " What a lonely home for Jiar .'" muttered the old Doctor to ln"ni- 
 sclf ; then suddenly exclaimed, "Here comes some one in search of 
 you. Miss Martin." 
 
 And a servant approached and whispered a few Avords in her ear.
 
 310 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 " Yes, immediately," said she, in reply. 
 
 She entreated the old man to rest himself for a while ere he con- 
 tinued his walk homeward ; but he declined, and with an affectionate 
 farewell they parted, he towards the Vicarage, and she to re-enter 
 the Castle. 
 
 There is no need to practise mystery with our reader ; and he 
 who had just arrived, and was eager to see Miss Martin, was only 
 Aiaurice Scanlan ! As little use is there also in denying the fact that 
 Mary was much annoyed at his inopportune coming. She was in no 
 mood of mind to meet either him or such topics as he would certainly 
 discuss, liowevei', she had, so to say, given him a permission to be 
 admitted at all times, and tliere was no help for it ! 
 
 These same people that one " must see," are very terrible inflic- 
 tions sometimes. They are ever present at the wrong time and the 
 wrong place. They come in moments when their presence is a dis- 
 cord to all our thoughts ; and what is to the fvdl as bad, they don't 
 tnow it — or they will not know it. They have an awful amount of 
 self-esteem, and fancy that they never can be but welcome. A type 
 of this class was Maurice Scanlan. Thrust forward by the accidents 
 of life into situations for which nothing in his own humble beginnings 
 seemed to adapt him, he had, like all the other Maurice Scanlans of 
 the world, taken to suppose that he was really a very necessary and 
 important ingredient in all affairs. He found, too, that his small 
 cunning served to guide him, where really able men's wisdom failed 
 them — for so it is, people won't take soundings when they think they 
 can see the bottom — and finally, he conceived a very high opinion of 
 his faculties, and thought them equal to much higher purposes than 
 they had ever been engaged in. 
 
 Since his last interview with Mary Martin, he had never ceased to 
 congratulate himself on the glorious turn of his affairs. Though not 
 over-sanguine about others, Maurice was always hopeful of himself. 
 It is one of the characteristics of such men, and one of the greatest 
 aids to their activity, this evcr-pi'csent 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 who had accomplished his 
 mission ere it was believed he had set out — and he resolved to profit 
 by the example. It was, then, in the full confidence of success, that 
 he presented himself on this occasion. 
 
 Mary received him calmly — almost coldly : his presence was not in 
 harmony with any thought that occupied her, and she deemed the 
 task of admitting him something like an infliction.
 
 THE MAETINS OP CRO' MARTIN, 311 
 
 " I drove over, Miss Mary," said he, rather disconcerted bj her 
 reserve—'" I drove over, to-day, though I know you don't like business 
 on a Sunday, just to say that I had completed that little matter you 
 spoke of— the money affair. I 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.' 
 
 "Ton liave been very kind, and very prompt, Sir," s^ni she, thank- 
 fidly, but with a languor that sliowed 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 lie hoped her curiosity might have inquired the 
 name of him thus alluded to ; but she never did so, but heard the 
 fact with a calm indifference. 
 
 Scanlan was uneasy — his heaviest artillery had opened no breach. 
 What should be his next manoeuvre ? 
 
 "The money-market is tight just now," said he, speaking only to 
 gain time for further observation, " and there's worse times, even, 
 before us." 
 
 If Mary heard, she did not notice this gloomy speculation. 
 
 " I'm sure it will be no easy job to get the last November rent paid 
 up. It was a bad crop ; and now there's sickness coming amongst 
 them," said he, half as though to himself. 
 
 "You'll have to excuse me to-day," Mr. Scanlan, said she, at last 
 " I find I can think of nothing — I am in one of my idle moods." 
 
 " To be sure, why not. Miss Mary ?" said he, evidently piqued at 
 the ill-success of all his zeal. " It was / made a mistake. I fancied, 
 someliow, you were anxious about this little matter; but another day 
 will do as well — whenever it's your own convenience." 
 
 " You are always considerate, always good-natured, Mr. Scanlan," 
 said she, with a vagueness that showed she was scarcely conscious of 
 what she uttered. 
 
 " If ijou think so. Miss Mary, I'm well repaid," said he, with a 
 dash of gallantry in the tone; "nor is it by a trifle like this I'd like 
 to show my — my — my devotion." And the last word came out with 
 an effort that made his face crimson. 
 
 " Yes !" muttered she, not hearing one word of his speech. 
 
 " So that I'll come over to-morrow. Miss Mary," broke he in. 
 
 " Very well — to-morrow !" replied she, as still musiug she turned 
 to the window, no more thinking of the luckless Attorney than if ho 
 had been miles away ; and when at length she did look around, he wa3 
 gone ! It was some minutes ere Mary could perfectly reconcile her-
 
 312 THE MAETINS OF CKO' itAUTlK. 
 
 self to the fact that he had been there at all ; but as to how, and 
 ■R'hea, and why he toolc his leave, were iiiysteries of which she could 
 malvc nothing. And yet Mr. Scanlan had gone through a very cere- 
 monious 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, muttering, as lie 
 paced the corridor, certain prospective reprisals fortius haughty indif- 
 ference, Avhen a certain time should arrive, and a certain fair lady 
 
 But we have no right to push his speculations further than lie him- 
 self indulged them, and on the present occasion Maurice was less 
 sanguine than his wont. 
 
 " I fed the mare. Sir," said Barnes, as he held the stirrup for 
 Scanlan to mount. 
 
 "And gave her water, too," said the Attorney, doggedly. 
 
 "Devil a drop, then," resumed the other. " I just sprinkled the 
 oats, no more ; that's Miss Mary's orders always." 
 
 "She understands a stable well," said Scanlan, half-questioning. 
 
 "Doesn't slier" said the other, with a sententious smack of tlie 
 lip. " To bit a horse or to back him — to tache him his paces and 
 cure him of bad thricks — to train him for harness, double and 
 single — to show him the way over a wall, or a wide ditch — to make 
 him rise light and come dov.n 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 re- 
 issued, 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 dcxterousl}- over the croup, so as not to 
 rufile a hair of the glossy coat, exhibited an animal of surpassing sym- 
 metry, in all the pride of high condition. 
 
 " There's a beast !" said he, proudly, " without speck or spot, brand 
 or blemish about him ! Tou're a good judge of a horse, Mr. Scanlan, 
 and tell me when did you see his equal?" 
 
 " He's a nice horse !" said Scanlan, slowly, giving to each word a 
 slow and solemn significance. Then, casting a keen glance all around 
 and over him, added, "' There's a splint on the ofi"-leg!"
 
 THE IIARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 313 
 
 " So there is, the least taste in life," said Barnes, passing his hand 
 lightl}^ OA'er it ; " and was there ever a horse — worth the name of a 
 horse — that liadn't a splint ? Sure, they're foaled with them ! 1 
 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 him Avith a mark.' 
 Them's her very words." 
 
 "He's a nice horse," said Scanlan once more, as if the very parsi- 
 mony of the praise was the highest testimony of the utterer ; " and in 
 rare condition, too," added he. 
 
 "In the very highest," said Barnes. "He was as sure of that cup 
 as I am that my name's Tim." 
 
 " What cup ?" asked Scanlan. 
 
 '• Kil-timmon — the June races — he's entered and all — and now 
 he's to be sold — them's the orders I got yesterday — he's to be 
 auctioned at Dycer's on Saturday for whatever he'll bring !" 
 
 "And now, what do you expect for him, Barnes ?" said Maurice, 
 confidentially. 
 
 " Sorrow one o' me knows. He might go for fifty — he miglit go 
 for two hundred and fifty! and cheap he'd be 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 draw him for the race, for he'll win it as 
 sure as I'm here. 'Tis Jemmy was to ride him ; and Miss Mary 
 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 tliink she'd let me run him 
 in the Martin colours ?" cried Scanlan, to whoiii 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 wjc," said Barnes, with the 
 gravity of a diplomatist who understood his mission. " Where can I 
 see you to-morrow ?" 
 
 "I'll be here about ten o'clock !" 
 
 " That wiU do — enough said !" And Barnes, replacing the horse-
 
 314 THE MAKTINS OF CllO' MAKTIN. 
 
 sheet, slowly re-entered the stable ; while Scanlan, putting spurs to 
 his nag, dashed hurriedly away, his thoughts outstripping in their 
 speed the pace he went, and traversing space with a rapidity that 
 neither " blood" nor training ever vied with ! 
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 MR. HERMAN M E R L. 
 
 This niuch-abuscd Avorld of ours, railed at by Divines, sneered 
 down by Cynics, slighted by Philosophers, has still some marvellously 
 pleasant things about it, amongst which, first and foremost, facile 
 princeps, is Paris ! In every other city of Europe there is a life to be 
 learned and acquired just like a new language. You have to gain the 
 acquaintance of certain people, obtain admission to certain houses, 
 submit yourself to ways, habits, hours, all peculiar to the locality, and 
 conform to usages in which — at first, at least — you rarely find any- 
 thing beyond penalties on your time and your patience. But Paris 
 demands no such sacrifices. To enjoy it, no apprenticeship is re- 
 quired. Tou become free of the Guild at the Porte St. Denis. By 
 the time you reach the Boulevards you have ceased to be a stranger. 
 Tou enter the " Ereres" at dinner-hour like an old habitue! The 
 atmosphere of light, elastic gaiety around you, the tone of charming 
 politeness that meets your commonest inquiry, the courtesy bestowed 
 upon your character as a foreigner, are all as exhilarating in their own 
 way as your sparkling glass of Meet sipped in the window, from which 
 you look down on plashing fountains, laughing children, and dark- 
 eyed Grisettes ! The whole thing in its bustle and movement, its 
 splendour, sunlight, gilded furniture, mirrors, and smart toilettes, is 
 a piece of natural magic, with this difference — that its effect is ever 
 new — ever surprising ! 
 
 Sad and sorrowful faces are, of course, to be met with, since grief 
 has its portion everywhere ; but that air of languid indifference, that 
 look of wearied endurance, which we characterise by the classic term 
 of " Boredom," is, indeed, a rare spectacle in this capital; and yet, 
 now at the window of a splendid apartment in the Place Vendome, 
 listlessly looking down into the square beneath, stood a young man, 
 every line of whose features conveyed this same expression. He had,
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAKTIN, 315 
 
 although not really above twenty-four or twenty-five, the appear- 
 ance of one ten years older. On a face of singular regularity, and 
 decidedly handsome, dissipation had left its indelible traces. The 
 eyes were deep sunk, the cheeks colourless, and around the angles of 
 the mouth were those tell-tale circles which betray the action of an oft- 
 tried temper, and the spirit that has gone through many a hard 
 conflict. In figure, he was very tall, and seemed more so in the folds 
 of a long dressing-gown of antique brocade, which reached to his feet ; 
 a small, dark-green skull-cap, with a heavy silver tassel, covered one 
 side of his head, and in his hand he held a handsome nieershaum, 
 which, half mechauically, he placed from time to time to his lips, 
 although its bowl was empty. 
 
 At a breakfast-table, covered with all that could provoke appetite, 
 sat a figure as much unlike him as could be. He was under the 
 middle size, and slightly inclined to flesh, with a face which, but for 
 some strange resemblance to w^hat one has seen in pictures by the 
 older artists, would have been unequivocally vulgar. The eyes were 
 small, keen, and furtive ; the nose, slightly concave in its outline, 
 expanded beneath into nostrils wide and full ; but the mouth, thick- 
 lipped, sensual, and coarse, was more distinctive than all, and showed 
 that Mr. Herman Merl was a gentleman of the Jewish persuasion— 
 a fact well corroboi'^ted by the splendour of a very flashy silk waist- 
 coat, and various studs, gold chain, rings, and trinkets profusely 
 scattered over his costume. And yet there was little of what we 
 commonly recognise as the Jew in the character of his face. The 
 eyes were not dark, tlie nose not aquiline ; the hair, indeed, had the 
 wavy massiveness of the Hebrew race ; but Mr. Merl was a " Red 
 Jew," and the Eed Jew, like the red partridge, is a species j?er se. 
 
 There was an ostentatious pretension in the "get-up" of this 
 gentleman. His moustache, his beard, his wrist-buttons, his shirt- 
 studs, the camel ia in liis coat — all, even to the heels of his boots, 
 had been made studies, either to correct a natural defect, or show 
 ofl" what he fancied a natural advantage. He seemed to have studied 
 colour like a painter, for his dark brown frock was in true keeping 
 with the tint of his skin ; and yet, despite these painstaking eflbrts, 
 the man was indelibly, hopelessly vulgar. Everything about liim 
 was imitation, but it was imitatioii that only displayed its own short- 
 comings. 
 
 "I wonder how you can resist these oysters, Captain," said he, as 
 he daintily adjusted one of these delicacies on his fork ; " and the 
 Chablis, I assure you, is excellent." 
 
 " I never eat breakfast," said the other, turning away from the 
 window, and pacing the room with slow and measured tread.
 
 31 G THE MAETIXS OF CBO' MAllTIN. 
 
 " Why, you are forgetting all the speculations that used to amuse 
 us on the voyage — tlie delicious little dinuei's we •were to enjoj'- at the 
 ' Eocher' — the tempting 'dejeuners' at ' Vefour's.' By Jove! how- 
 hungry you used to make me, with your descriptions of the appetising- 
 fare before us; and here we have it now: Ardennes ham, fried in 
 champagne ; Ostend oysters, salmi of quails with truffles — and such 
 truffles ! Won't that tempt you r" 
 
 ]3ut his friend paid no attention to the appeal, and walking again 
 to the window, looked out. 
 
 " Those little drummers yonder have a busy day of it," said he, 
 lazily ; " that's the fourth time they have had to beat the salute to 
 Generals this morning." 
 
 " Is there anything going on, then?" 
 
 J3ut he never deigned an answer, and resumed his walk. 
 
 " I wish you'd send away that hissing tea-kettle, it reminds me of 
 a steam-boat," said the Captain, peevishly ; " that is, if you have 
 doue with it." 
 
 " So it does," said the other, rising to ring the bell ; " there's the 
 
 same discordant uoise, and tlic — the — the " But the rest of the 
 
 similitude wouldn't come, and Mr. JMerl covered his retreat with tlie 
 process of lighting a cigar — an invaluable expedient that had served 
 to aid many a more ready debater in like difficulty. 
 
 It would be a somewhat tedious, perhaps not a very profitable, 
 task, to inquire how two men, so palpably dissimilar, had thus be- 
 come what the world calls friends. Enough if we say that Captain 
 Martin — the heir of Cro' Martin — when returning from India on 
 leave, passed some time at the Cape, where, in the not very select 
 society of the place, he met Mr. Merl. Now Mr. Merl had been at 
 Ceylon, where he had something to do with a coftee plantation; and 
 he had been at Benares, where opium interested him ; and now again, 
 at the Cape, a question of wine had probably some relation to his 
 sojourn. In fact, he was a man travelling about the world with 
 abundance of leisure, a well-stocked purse, and what our friends over 
 the Strait would term nu " industrial spirit." Messes had occasionally 
 invited him to their tables. Men in society got the habit of seeing liim 
 " about," and he was in the enjoyment of that kind of tolerance whicli 
 made every man feel, "He's not my friend — I didn't introduce him ; 
 but he seems a good sort of fellow enough !" And so he was — very 
 good-tempered, very obliging, most liberal of his cigars, his lodgings 
 always open to loungers, Avith pale ale, and even iced champagne, to 
 be had for asking. There was play, too ; and although Merl was a con- 
 siderable winner, he managed never to incur the jealous enmity that 
 ■winning so often imposes. He was the most courteous of gamblers ;
 
 THE MARTINS OP CKO' MAKTIIT. 317 
 
 he never did a sharp thing ; never enforced a ^itricfc rule upon a 
 novice of the game ; tolerated every imaginable blunder of his part- 
 ner with bland equanimity ; and, in a word, if this great globe of 
 ours had been a green-baise cloth, and all the men and women whist- 
 players, Mr. Herman Merl had been the first gentleman in it, and 
 carried off " all the honours" in his own hand. 
 
 If he was highly skilled in every game, it was remarked of him 
 that lie never proposed play himself, nor was he ever known to 
 make a wager : he always waited to be asked to make up a party, 
 or to take or give the odds, as the case might be. To a very shrewd 
 observ^er, this might have savoured a little too much of a system ; but 
 slu'ewd observers are, after all, not the current coin in the society of 
 young men, and Merl's conduct was eminently successful. 
 
 Merl suited Martin admirably. Martin was that species of man 
 which, of all others, is most assailable by flattery. A man of small 
 accomplishments, lie sang a little, rode a little, played, drew, fenced, 
 fished, shot — all, a little — that is, somewhat better than others in 
 general, and giving him that dangerous kind of pre-eminence, from 
 which, though the tumble never kills, it occurs often enough to 
 bruise and humiliate. But, w^orse than this, it shrouds its possessor 
 in a triple mail of vanity, that makes him the easy prey of all who 
 minister to it. 
 
 We seldom consider how much locality influences our intimacies, 
 and how impossible it had been for us even to know in some places 
 the people we have made friends of in another. Harry Martin would 
 as soon have thought of proposing his valet at "Brookes's," as walk 
 down Bond-street with Mr. Merl. Had he met him in London, every 
 characteristic of the man would there have stood out in all the strous: 
 glare of contrast, but at the Cape it was different. Criticism would 
 have been misplaced where all was irregular, and the hundred little 
 traits — any one of which would have shocked bira in England — 
 were only smiled at as the eccentricities of a "good-natured poor 
 fellow, who had no harm in him." 
 
 Martin and Merl came to England in the same ship. It was a 
 sudden thought of Merl's, only conceived tlie evening before she 
 sailed ; but Martin had lost a considerable simi at piquet to him on 
 that night, and when signing the acceptances for payment, since he 
 liad not the ready money, somewhat peevishly remarked, that it was 
 liard he should not have his revenge. Whereupon Merl, tossing oS a 
 bumper of champagne, and appearing to speak under the influence of 
 its stimulation, cried out, " Hang me, Captain, if you shall say that! 
 I'll go and take my passage in the Elpliinstonr.'''' And he did so, and 
 he gave the Captain his revenge ! But of all the passions, there is not
 
 318 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN, 
 
 one less profitable to indulge in. They played morning, noon, and 
 night, through long days of sickening calm, through dreary nights of 
 storm and hurricane, and they scarcely lifted their heads at the 
 tidings that the Needles were in sight, nor even questioned the pilot 
 for news of England \vhen he boarded them in the Downs. Martin 
 had grown much older diiring that same voyage ; his temper, too, 
 usually imbued with the easy indolence of his father's nature, had 
 grown impatient and fretful. A galling sense of inferiority to INIerl 
 poisoned every minute of his life. He would not admit it, he rejected 
 it, but back it came, and if it did not enter into his heart, it stood 
 there knocking — knocking for admission. Each time they sat down 
 to play was a perfect duel to Martin. As for Merl, his well-schooled 
 faculties never were ruffled nor excited. The game had no power to 
 fascinate him, its vicissitudes had nothing new or surprising to him ; 
 intervals of ill-luck, days even of dubious fortune might occur, but he 
 knew he would win in the end, just as he knew that though there 
 might intervene periods of bad weather and adverse winds, the good 
 ship ElpJiinstone would arrive at last, and, a day sooner or a day later, 
 discharge passengers and freight on the banks of the Thames. 
 
 Tou may forgive the man who has rivalled you in love — the 
 Banker, whose " smash" has engulphed all your fortune — the violent 
 political antagonist, who has assailed you personally, and in the 
 House, perhaps, answered the best speech you ever made, by a 
 withering reply. Tou may extend feelings of Christian charity to 
 the Eeviewer who has " slashed" your new novel — the La\T}^er, Avhose 
 vindictive eloquence has exposed — the Artist in JPiinch who has 
 immortalised — you ; but there is one man you never forgive — of whom 
 you will never believe one good thing, and to whom you would wish 
 a thousand evil ones — he is your natural enemy, brought into the 
 world to be your bane, born that he may be your tormentor ; and 
 this is the man who always beats you at play ! Happily, good reader, 
 you may have no feelings of the gambler — you may be of those to 
 whom this fatal vice has never appealed, or appealed in vain ; but if 
 you have " played," or even mixed with those who have, you couldn't 
 have failed to be struck with the fact, that there is that one certain 
 man from whom you never win ! Wherever he is, there, too, is pre- 
 sent your evil destiny ! Now, there is no pardoning this — the double 
 injury of insult to your skill and damage to your pocket. Such a man 
 as this becomes at last your master. Tou may sneer at his manners 
 — scoff at his abilities — ridicule his dress — laugh at his vulgarity: 
 poor reprisals these ! In his presence, the sense of that one supe- 
 riority he possesses over you makes you quail ! In the stem conflict,
 
 / 
 
 '6^
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 319 
 
 wBere your destiny and your capacity seem alike at issue, he con- 
 quers you — not to-day, or to-morrow, but ever and always ! There 
 he sits, arbiter of your fate — only doubtful how long he may defer 
 the day of your sentence ! 
 
 It is something iu the vague indistinctness of this power — some- 
 thing that seems to typify the agency of the Evil One himself, that at 
 once tortures and subdues jon ; and you ever hurry into fresh con- 
 flict with the ever present consciousness of fresh defeat ! "We might 
 have spared our reader this discursive essay but that it pertains to 
 our story. Such was the precise feeling entertained by Martin 
 towards Merl. He hated him with all the concentration of his great 
 hatred, and yet he could not disembarrass himself of his presence. He 
 was ashamed of the man amongst his friends ; he avoided him iu all 
 public places ; he shrunk from his very contact as though infected ; 
 but he could not throw off his acquaintance, and he nourished in his 
 heart a small ember of hope that one day or other the scale of fortune 
 would turn, and he might win back again all he had ever lost, and 
 stand free and unembarrassed as in the first hour he had met him ! 
 rift}' times had he consulted Fortune, as it were, to ask if this 
 moment had yet arrived ; but hitherto ever unsuccessfully — Merl 
 won on as before. Martin, however, invariably ceased playing when 
 he discovered that his ill-luck continued. It was an experiment — a 
 mere pilot-balloon to Destiny ; and when he saw the direction ad- 
 verse, he did not adventure on the grand ascent. It was impos- 
 sible that a man of Merl's temperament and training should not have 
 detected this game. There was not a phase of the gambler's mind 
 with which he was not thoroughly familiar. 
 
 Close intimacies, popularly called friendships, have always their 
 secret motive, if avc be but skilful enough to detect it. We see 
 people associate together of widely different habits, and dispositions 
 the most opposite, with nothing in common of station, rank, object, 
 or pursuit. In such cases the riddle has always its key, could we 
 only find it. 
 
 Mr. Martin had been some weeks iu Paris with his family, when a 
 brief note infonncd him that INIerl had arrived there. He despatched 
 an answer still briefer, asking him to breakfast on the follo-ftdug morn- 
 ing ; and it was in the acceptance of this same invitation Ave have now- 
 seen him. 
 
 " AVho's here just now ?" said Merl, tlu'owing down his napkin 
 and pushing his chair a little back from the table, while he disposed 
 his short fat legs into Avhat he fancied was a most graceful attitude. 
 
 " Here ? Do you mean in Paris ?" rejoined Martin, pettishly, for
 
 320 THE MARTINS OP CEO MAETIN. 
 
 be never suifcrecl so painfully under this man's intimacy as wlien his 
 manners assumed the pretension of fiishion. 
 
 " Yes — of course^ — I mean, who's in Paris ?" 
 
 " There arc, I believe, about forty-odd thousand of our country- 
 men and countrywomen," said the other, half-contemptuously. 
 
 '• Oh, I've no doubt ; but my question took narrower bounds. I 
 meant, who oi our set — wlio of us ?" 
 
 JMartin turned round, and fixing his eyes on him, scanned him from 
 head to foot with a gaze of such intense insolence as no words could 
 have equalled. For a while the Jew bore it admirably ; but these 
 efforts, after all, are only like the brief intervals a man can live under 
 water, and where tlic initiated beats the inexperienced only by a matter 
 of seconds. As Martin continued his stare, Merl's cheek tingled, 
 grew red, and finally his whole face and forehead became scarlet. 
 
 With an instinct like that of a surgeon, who feels he has gone deep 
 enough with his knife, Martin resumed his walk along the room with- 
 out uttering a word. 
 
 Merl opened the newspaper, and aftected to read; his hand, how- 
 ever, trembled, and his eyes wandered listlessly over the columns, 
 and then furtively were turned towards Martin as he paced the 
 chamber in silence. 
 
 '• Do you think you can manage that little matter for me. Captain ?" 
 said he at last, and in a voice attuned to its very humblest key. 
 
 " What little matter? Those two bills do you mean?" said Martin, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Not at all. I'm not the least pressed for cash. I alluded to the 
 Club ; you promised you'd put me up, and get one of your popular 
 friends to second me." 
 
 "I remember," said Martin, evidently relieved from a momentary 
 terror. " Lord Claude Willoughby or Sir Spencer Cavendish would 
 be the men if we could find them." 
 
 " Lord Claude, I perceive, is here ; the paper mentions his name in 
 the dinner company at the Embassy yesterday." 
 
 " Do you know him ?" asked Martin, with an air of innocence that 
 Merl well comprehended as insult. 
 
 " No. We've met — I think we've played together — I remember 
 once at Baden " 
 
 '•' Lord Claude Willoughby, Sir," said a servant, entering with a 
 card, "desires to know if you're at home?" 
 
 " And won't be denied if you are not," said his Lordship, entering 
 at the same instant, and saluting Martin with great cordiality.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 321 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 MR. MERL. 
 
 The French have invented a slang word for a quality that deserves 
 a more recognised epithet, and by the expression " Chic" have de- 
 signated a certain property, by which objects assert their undoubted 
 superiority over all their counterfeits. Thus, your coat from Nugee's, 
 your carriage from Leader's, your bracelet from Storr's, and your 
 bonnet from Madame Palmyre, have all their own peculiar " Chic," 
 or, in other words, possess a certain invisible, indescribable essence 
 that stamps them as the best of their kind, with an excellence un- 
 attainable by imitation, and a charm all their own ! 
 
 Of all tlie products in which this magical property insinuates itself, 
 there is not one to which it contributes so much as the man of 
 fashion. He is the very type of " Chic." To describe him you are 
 driven to a catalogue of negatives, and you only arrive at anything 
 like a resemblance by an enumeration of the different things he is 
 not. 
 
 The gentleman who presented himself to Martin at the close of 
 our last chapter was in many respects a good specimen of his order. 
 He had entered the room, believing Martin to be there alone ; but no 
 sooner had he perceived another, and that other one not known to 
 him, than all the buoyant gaiety of his manner was suddenly toned 
 down into a quiet seriousness ; while taking his friend's arm, he said, 
 in a low voice : 
 
 " If you're busy, my dear Martin, don't hesitate for a moment 
 about sending me off; I had not the slightest suspicion there was any 
 one with you." 
 
 " Nor is there," said IMartin, with a supercilious glance at Merl, 
 who was endeavouring in a dozen unsuccessful ways to seem unaware 
 of the new arrival's presence. 
 
 " I want to introduce him to you," said Martin. 
 
 " No, no, my dear fellow, on no account." 
 
 " I must — there's no help for it," said Martin, impatiently, while 
 he whispered sometliing eagerly in the other's car. 
 
 " AVell, then— some other day — another time " 
 
 " Here, and now, Claude," said Martin, peremptorily; while, with- 
 
 T
 
 322 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 out waiting for reply, he said aloud, " Merl, I wish to present you to 
 Lord Claude AYilloughby— Lord Claude, Mr. Herman Merl." 
 
 Merl bowed, and smirked, and writhed, as his Lordship, with a 
 bland smile and a very slight bow, acknowledged the presentation. 
 
 " Had the pleasure of meeting your Lordship at Baden two sum- 
 mers asfo," said the Jew, with an air meant to be the ideal of fashion- 
 able ease. 
 
 " I Avas at Baden at the time you mention," said he, coldly. 
 
 " I used to watch your Lordship's game with great attention; you 
 won heavily, I think ?" 
 
 " I don't remember just now," said he, carelessly ; not, indeed, that 
 such was the fact, or that he desired it should be thought so, he only 
 wished to mark his sense of what he deemed an impertinence. 
 
 " The man who can win at Eouge-ct-Noir can do anything, in my 
 opinion," said Merl. 
 
 "What odds are you taking on Rufus ?" said Martin to Wil- 
 loughby, and without paying the slightest attention to Merl's remark. 
 
 " Eleven to one ; but I'll not take it again. Hecuba is rising 
 hourly, and some say she'll be the favourite yet." 
 
 " Is Eufus your Lordship's horse ?" said the Jew, insinuatingly. 
 
 Willoughby bowed, and continued to write in his note-book. 
 
 " And you said the betting was eleven to one on the field, my 
 Lord?" 
 
 " It ought to be fourteen to one, at least." 
 
 " I'll give you fourteen to one, my Lord, just for the sake of a little 
 interest in the race." 
 
 "Willoughby ceased writing, and looked at him steadfastly for a 
 second or two. " I have not said that the odds were fourteen to one." 
 
 " I imderstand you perfectly, my Lord ; you merely thought that 
 they would be, or at least ought to be." 
 
 " Merl wants a bet with you, in fact," said Martin, as he applied a 
 light to his meerschaum, " and if you won't have him, I will." 
 
 "What shall it be. Sir," said Lord Claude, pencil in hand; "in 
 ponies — fifties P" 
 
 " Oil, ponies, my Lord. I only meant it, just as I said, to give me 
 something to care for in the race." 
 
 " AVill you put him up at the ' Cercle' after that ?" whispered 
 Martin, with a look of sly malice. 
 
 " I'LL tell you when the match is over," said Willoughby, laughing ; 
 " but if I won't, here's one that will. That's a neat phaeton of Ca- 
 vendish's." And at the same instant Martin opened the window, and 
 made a signal with his handkerchief.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 323 
 
 " That's the thing for you, Merl," said Martin, pointing down to a 
 splendid pair of dark chesnuts harnessed to a handsome phaeton. 
 " It's worth five hundred pounds to any fellow starting an equipage 
 to chance upon one of Cavendish's. He has not only such con- 
 summate taste in carriage and harness, but he makes his nags per- 
 fection." 
 
 " He drives very neatly," said Willoughby. 
 
 " What was it he gave for that near-side horse ? — a thousand 
 pounds, I think." 
 
 " Twelve hundred and fifty, and refused a hundred for my bar- 
 gain," said a very diminutive, shrewd-looking man of about five-and- 
 thirty, who entered the room with a great affectation of juvenility. 
 " I bought him for a cab, never expecting to ' see his like again,' as 
 Shakspeare says." 
 
 " And you oifered the whole concern yesterday to Damxemont for 
 fifty thousand francs ?" 
 
 " No, Harry, that's a mistake. I said I'd play him a match at 
 piquet, whether he gave seventy thousand for the equipage or nothing. 
 It was he that proposed fifty thousand. Mine was a handsome ofler, 
 I think." 
 
 " I call it a most munificent one," said Martin. " By the way, you 
 don't know my friend here, Mr. Merl, Sir Spencer Cavendish." 
 And the Baronet stuck his glass in his eye and scanned the stranger 
 as unscrupulously as though he were a hack at Tattersall's. 
 
 " AVhere did he dig him up, Claude ?" whispered he, after a 
 second. 
 
 " In India, I fancy ; or at the Cape." 
 
 " That fellow has something to do with the hell in St. James's- 
 street; I'll swear I know his face." 
 
 " I've been telling Merl that he's in rare luck to find such a turn- 
 out as that in the market ; that is, if you still are disposed to sell." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I'll sell it ; give him the tiger, boots, cockade and all — 
 everything, except that Skye terrier. Tou shall have the whole, Sir, 
 for two thousand pounds; or, if you prefer it " 
 
 A certain warning look from Lord Claude suddenly arrested his 
 words, and he added, after a moment: 
 
 " But I'd rather sell it off, and think no more of it." 
 
 " Try the nags; Sir Spencer, I'm sure, will have no objection," 
 said Martin. But the Baronet's face looked anything but con- 
 currence with the proposal. 
 
 "Take them a turn round the Bois de Boulogne, Merl," said 
 Martin, laughing at his friend's distress. 
 
 y2
 
 324 THE MAHTINS OF CHO' MARTIN. 
 
 "And he may have the turn-out at his own price after the trial," 
 muttered Lord Claude, with a quiet smile. 
 
 " Egad ! I should think so," whispered Cavendish ; " for, assuredly, 
 I should never think of being seen in it again." 
 
 " If Sir Spencer Cavendish has no objection — if he would permit 
 his groom to drive me just down the Boulevards and the Hue 
 Eivoli " 
 
 The cool stare of the Baronet did not permit him to finish. It 
 was really a look far more intelligible than common observers might 
 have imagined, for it conveyed something like recognition — a faint 
 approach to an intimation that said, " I'm persuaded that we have 
 met before." 
 
 " Yes, that is the best plan. Let the groom have the ribbons," 
 said Martin, laughing with an almost schoolboy enjoyment of a 
 trick, "and don't lose time, Merl, for Sir Spencer Avouldn't miss his 
 drive in the Champs Ely sees for any consideration." 
 
 " Gentlemen, I am your very humble and much obliged servant !" 
 said Cavendish, as soon as Merl had quitted the room. " If that 
 distinguished friend of yours should not buy my carriage " 
 
 " But he will," broke in Martin ; " he must buy it." 
 
 " He ought, I think," said Lord Claude. " If I were in his place, 
 there's only one condition I'd stipulate for." 
 
 " And that is ?" 
 
 " That you should drive with him one day — one would be enough 
 — from the Barriere de I'Etoile to the Louvre." 
 
 " This is all very amusing, gentlemen — most entertaining," said 
 Cavendish, tartly ; " but who is he ? — I don't mean that — but what 
 is he?" 
 
 " Martin's banker, I fancy," said Lord Claude. 
 
 " Does he lend any sum, from five hundred to twenty thousand, on 
 equitable terms, on approved personal security?" said Cavendish, 
 imitating the terms of the advertisements. 
 
 " He'll allow all he wins from you to remain in your hands at sixty 
 per cent, interest, if he doesn't want cash !" said Martin, angrily, 
 
 " Oh, then, I'm right. It is my little Moses of St. James's-street. 
 He Avasn't always as flourishing as we see him now. Oh dear, if any 
 man, three years back, had told me that this fellow would have pro- 
 posed seating himself in ony phaeton for a drive round Paris, I don't 
 believe — nay, I'm sure — my head couldn't have stood it." 
 
 " You know him, then ?" said Willoughby. 
 
 " I should think every man about town a dozen years ago must 
 know him. There was a kind of brood of these fellows ; we used to
 
 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 325 
 
 call them Joseph and his brethren. One sold cigars, another vended 
 maraschino ; this discounted your bills, that took your plate or your 
 horses — ay, or your wardrobe — on a bill of sale, and handed you over 
 two hundred pounds to lose at his brother's hell in the evening. 
 Most useful scoundrels they were — equally expert on 'Change and in 
 the Coulisses of the Opera!" 
 
 " I will say this for him," said Martin, " he's not a hard fellow to 
 deal with; he does not drive a bargain ungenerously." 
 
 " Your hangman is the tenderest fellow in the world," said Caven- 
 dish, "till the final moment. It's only in adjusting the last turn 
 under the ear that he shows himself ' ungenerous.' " 
 
 "Are you deep with him, Harry?" said Willoughby, who saw a 
 sudden paleness come over Martin's face. 
 
 " Too deep !" said he, with a bitter effort at a laugh — " a great 
 deal too deep." 
 
 " "We're all too deep with those fellows," said Cavendish, as, stretch- 
 ing out his legs, he contemplated the shape and lustre of his admi- 
 rably-fitting boots. " One begins by some trumpery loan or so, 
 thence you go on to a play transaction or a betting-book with them, 
 and you end — egad, you end by having the fellow at dinner!" 
 
 "Martin wants his friend to be put up for the Club," said Wil- 
 loughby. 
 
 " Eh, what ? At the ' Cercle,' do you mean ?" 
 " "Why not ? Is it so very select ?" 
 
 " No, not exactly that ; there are the due proportions of odd repu- 
 tations, half reputations, and no reputations ; but remember, Martin, 
 that however black they be now, they all began white. "When they 
 started, at least, they were Gentlemen." 
 
 "I suspect that does not make the case much better." 
 " No ; but it makes ours better, in associating with them. Come, 
 come, you know as well as any one that this is impossible, and that 
 if you should do it to-day, I should follow the lead to-morrow, and 
 our Club become only an asylum for unpayable tailors, and unap- 
 peasable bootmakers!" 
 
 " You go too fast, Sir," exclaimed Martin, in a tone of anger. " I 
 never intended to pay my debts by a white ball in the ballot-box, 
 nor do I think that Mr. Merl would relinquish his claim on some 
 thousand 2)ounds, even for the honour of being the Club colleague of 
 Sir Spencer Cavendiali." 
 
 "Then I know him better," said tlie other, tapping his boot with 
 his cane ; " he would, and he'd think it a right good bargain besides. 
 From seeing these fellows at race-courses and betting-rooms, always
 
 326 THE MAETINS OF CBO' MAETIN. 
 
 cold, calm, and impassive, never depressed by ill-luck, as little elated 
 by good, we fall into the mistake of esteeming tbem as a kind of 
 philosophers in life, without any of those detracting influences that 
 make you and Willoughby, and even myself, sometimes rash and 
 headstrong. It is a mistake, though ; they have a weakness, and a 
 terrible weakness — which is, their passion to be thought in fashionable 
 society. Yes, they can't resist that ! All their shrewd calculations, 
 all their artful schemes, dissolve into thin air, at the bare prospect of 
 being recognised ' in society.' I have studied this flaw in tliem for 
 many a year back. I'll not say I haven't derived advantage from it." 
 " And yet you'd refuse him admission into a Club ?" cried Martin. 
 " Certainly. A club is a Democracy, where each man, once elected, 
 is the equal of his neighbour. Society is, on the other hand, an 
 absolute monarchy, where your rank flows from the fountain of 
 honour — the host. Take him along with you to her Grace's 'tea,' 
 or my Lady's reception this evening, and see if the manner of the 
 mistress of the house does not assign him his place — as certainly as 
 if he were marshalled to it by a lacquey. All his mock tranquillity, 
 and assumed ease of manner, will not be proof against the icy dignity 
 of a Grande Dame; but in the Club he's as good as the best, or 
 he'll think so, which comes to the same thing." 
 
 " Cavendish is right — that is, as much so as he can be in anything," 
 said Willoughby, laughing. " Don't put him up, Martin." 
 
 " Then what am I to do ? I have given a sort of a pledge. He is 
 not easily put ofi" — he does not lightly relinquish an object." 
 
 " Take him ofi" the scent. Introduce him at the Embassy. Take 
 him to the Courcelles." 
 
 " This is intolerable," broke in Martin, angrily. " I ask for advice, 
 and you reply by a sneer and a mockery." 
 
 " Not at all. I never was more serious. But here he comes ! 
 Look only how the fellow lolls back in the phaeton. Just see how 
 contemptuously he looks down on the foot travellers. I'd lay on 
 another hundred for that stare ; for assuredly, he has already made 
 the purchase in his own mind." 
 
 " Well, Merl, what do you say to Sir Spencer's taste in horse- 
 flesh P" said Martin, as he entered. 
 " They're nice hacks — very smart." 
 
 " Nice hacks !" broke in Cavendish, "why, Sir, they're both thorough- 
 bred ; the near horse is by Tiger out of a Crescent mare, and the ofi" 
 one won the Acton steeplechase. AVhen you said hacks, therefore, 
 you made a cruel blunder." 
 
 " Well, it's what a friend of mine called them just now," said Merl ;
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIK, 327 
 
 " and remarked, moreover, tliat tlie large horse had been slightly fired 
 
 on the — the I forget the name he gave it." 
 
 " Toil probably remember your friend's name better," said Caven- 
 dish, sneeringly. "Who was he, pray?" 
 
 " Massingbred — we call him Jack Massingbred — he's the Member 
 for somewhere in Ireland." 
 
 " Poor Jack !" muttered Cavendish, " how hard-up he must be." 
 " But you like the equipage, Merl ?" said Martin, who had a secret 
 suspicion that it was now Cavendish's turn for a little humiliation. 
 
 " Well, it's neat. The buggy " 
 
 " The buggy ! By Jove, Sir, you have a precious choice of epithets ! 
 Please to let me inform you that full-blooded horses are not called 
 hacks, nor one of Leader's park-phaetons is not styled a buggy." 
 
 Martin threw himself into a chair, and after a moment's struggle, 
 burst out into a fit of laughter. 
 
 " I think we may make a deal after all. Sir Spencei'," said Merl, who 
 accepted the Baronet's correction witli admirable self-control. 
 
 " No, Sir ; perfectly impossible ; take my word for it, any transac- 
 tion would be difficult between us. Good-by, Martin ; adieu Claude." 
 And with this brief leave-taking the peppery Sir Spencer left the 
 room, more flushed and fussy than he had entered it. 
 
 " If you knew Sir Spencer Cavendish as long as we have known 
 him, Mr. Merl," said Lord Claude, in his blandest of voices, "you'd 
 not be surprised at this little display of warmth. It is the only 
 weakness in a very excellent fellow." 
 
 "I'm hot, too, my Lord," said Merl, with the very slightest accen- 
 tuation of the "initial H," "and he was riglit in saying that deal- 
 ings would be difficult between us." 
 
 " You mentioned Massingbred a while ago, Merl. Why not ask 
 him to second you at tlie Club," said Martin, rousing himself sud- 
 denly from a train of thought. 
 
 " Well, someiiow, I thought that he and you didn't exactly pull 
 together — that there was an election contest — a kind of a squabble." 
 " I'm sure that he never gave you any reason to suspect a coldness 
 between us, I know that J never did," said Martin, calmly. "We 
 are but slightly acquainted, it is true, but I should be surprised to 
 learn that there was any ill-feeling between us." 
 
 " One's opponent at the hustings is pretty much the same thing as 
 one's adversary at a game — he is against you to-day, and may be your 
 partner to-morrow ; so that, putting even better motives aside, it were 
 bad policy to treat him as an implacable enemy," said Lord Claude, 
 with his accustomed suavity. " Besides, Mr. Merl, you know the
 
 328 THE mahtins or ceo' maetin. 
 
 crafty maxim of tlie Frencli moralist, ' Always treat your enemies as 
 though one day they were to become your friends.' " And with this 
 common-place, uttered in a tone and with a manner tliat gave it all 
 the semblance of a piece of special advice, his Lordship took his hat, 
 and, squeezing Martin's hand, moved towards the door. 
 
 " Come in here for a moment," said Martin, pushing open the 
 door into an adjoining dressing-room, and closing it carefully after 
 them. " So mucli for wanting to do a good-natured thing," cried 
 he, peevishly, " I thought to help Cavendish to get rid of those 
 ' screws,' and the return he makes me is to outrage this man." 
 
 " What are your dealings with him ?" asked Willougliby, anxi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Play matters, play-debts, loans, securities, post-obits, and every 
 other blessed contrivance you can think of to swamp a man's present 
 fortune and future prospects. I don't think he is a bad fellow ; I 
 mean, I don't suspect he'd press heavily upon me, with any fair treat- 
 ment on my part. My impression, in short, is, that he'd forgive my 
 not meeting his bill, but he'd never get over my not inviting him to a 
 dinner !" 
 
 "Well," said Willoughby, encouragingly, "we live in admirable 
 times for such practices. There used to be a vulgar prejudice in 
 favour of men that one knew, and names that the world was familiar 
 with. It is gone by entirely ; and if you only present your friend — 
 don't wince at the title — your friend I say — as the rich Mr. Merl, 
 the man who owns shares in mines, canals, and collieries, whose 
 speculations count by tens of thousands, and whose credit rises to 
 millions, you'll never be called on to apologise for his parts of speech, 
 or make excuse for his solecisms in good breeding." 
 
 " AVill you put v\p his name, then, at the Club ?" asked Martin, 
 eagerly. "It would not do for me to do so." 
 
 " To be sure I will, and Massingbred shall be his seconder." And 
 with this cheering pledge Lord Claude bade him good-by, and left 
 him free to return to Mr. Merl in the drawing-room. That gentle- 
 man had. however, already departed, to the no small astonishment of 
 Martin, who now tlirew himself lazily down on a sofa, to ponder over 
 his difficulties and weave all manner of impracticable schemes to 
 meet them. 
 
 They were, indeed, very considerable embarrassments. He had 
 raised heavy sums at most exorbitant rates, and obtained moiiey — for 
 the play-table — by pledging valuable reversions of various kinds, for 
 Merl somehow was tlie easiest of all people to deal with ; one might 
 have fancied that he lent his money only to afford himself an occasion
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 329 
 
 of sympathy •n'itli the borrower, just as he professed that he merely- 
 betted "to have a little interest in the race." Whatever Martin, 
 then, suggested in the way of security never came amiss ; whether it 
 were a farm, a mill, a quarry, or a lead mine, he accepted it at once, 
 and, as Martin deemed, without the slightest knowledge or investiga- 
 tion, little suspecting that there was not a detail of his estate, nor a 
 resource of his property, with which the wily Jew was not more fami- 
 liar than himself In fact, Mr. Merl was an astonishing instance of 
 knowledge on every subject by which money was to be made, and he 
 no more advanced loans upon an encumbered estate than he backed 
 the wrong horse or bid for a copied picture. There is a species of 
 practical information excessively difficult to describe, which is not 
 connoisseurship, but which supplies the place of that quality, enabling 
 him who possesses it to estimate the value of an object, without any 
 admixture of those weakening prejudices which beset your mere man 
 of taste. Now Mr. Merl had no caprices about the colour of the 
 horse he backed, no more tlian for the winning seat at cards ; he could 
 not be warped from his true interests by any passing whim, and 
 whether he cheapened a Correggio or discounted a bill, he was the 
 same calm, dispassionate calculator of the profit to come of the trans- 
 action. 
 
 Latterly, however, he had thrown out a hint to Martin that he was 
 curious to see some of that property on which he had made such 
 large advances, and this wish — which, according to the frame of mind 
 he happened to be in at the moment, struck Martin as a mere 
 caprice or a direct menace — was now the object of his gloomy reveries. 
 We have not tracked his steps through the tortuous windings of his 
 moneyed difficulties ; it is a chapter in life wherein there is wonder- 
 fully little new to record : the Jew lender and his associates, the re- 
 newed bill and the sixty per cent., the non-restored acceptances 
 flitting about the world, sold and resold as damaged articles, but 
 always in the end falling into the hands of a " most respectable 
 party," and proceeded on as a true debt; then, the compromises for 
 time, for silence, for secrecy — since these transactions are rarely, if 
 ever, devoid of some unhappy incident that would not bear publicity; 
 and there are invariably little notes beginning " Dear Moses," 
 which would argue most iU-chosen intimacies. These are all old 
 stories, and the Times and the Chronicle are full of them. There is 
 a terrible sameness about them, too. The Dupe and the Villain are 
 stock characters that never change, and the incidents are ])recisely 
 alike in every case. Humble folk, who are too Ioav for fashionable 
 follies, wonder how the self-same artifices have always the same sue-
 
 330 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 cess, and cannot conceal their astonishment at the innocence of our 
 young men about toAvn ; and yet the mystery is easily solved. Tlie 
 Dupe is, in these cases, just as unprincipled as his Betrayer, and their 
 negotiation is simply a game of skill, in which Israel is not always the 
 winner. 
 
 If we have not followed Martin's steps through these dreary 
 labyrinths, it is because the path is a worn one ; for the same reason, 
 too, we decline to keep him company in his poudcrings over tliera. 
 All that his troubles had taught him -was an humble imitation of the 
 tricky natures of those he dealt with ; so that he plotted, and 
 schemed, and contrived, till his very head grew weary with the labour. 
 And so we leave him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A TOUNG DUCHESS AND AN OLD FRIEND. 
 
 Like a vast number of people who have passed years in retire- 
 ment, Lady Dorothea was marvellously disappointed with " the 
 world" when she went back to it. It was not at all the kind of 
 thing she remembered, or at least fancied it to be. There were not 
 the old gradations of class strictly defined ; there was not the old 
 veneration for rank and station ; " society" was invaded by hosts of 
 unknown people, " names one had never heard of." The great stars 
 of fashion of her own day had long since set, and the new celebrities 
 had never as much as heard of her. The great houses of the Tau- 
 bourg were there, it is true ; but with reduced households and dimly- 
 lighted salons, they were but sorry representatives of the splendoiu: 
 her memory had invested them with. 
 
 Kow the Martins were installed in one of the finest apartments of 
 the finest quarter in Paris. They were people of unquestionable 
 station, they had ample means, lacked for none of the advantages 
 which the world demands from those who seek its favours, and yet 
 there they were, just as unknown, unvisited, and unsought aftei*, 
 as if they were the Joneses or the Smiths, " out," for a month's plea- 
 suring on the Continent. 
 
 A solitary invitation to the Embassy to dinner was not followed 
 by any other attention ; and so, they drove along the Boulevards and 
 through the Bois de Boulogne, and saw some thousands of gay, 
 bright-costumed people, all eager for pleasure, all hurrying on to
 
 THE MAETINS OS CliO' MAETIN. 331 
 
 some scheme of amusement or enjoyment, while they returned 
 moodily to their handsome quarter, as much excluded from all par- 
 ticipation in what went on around them as though they were natives 
 of Hayti. 
 
 Martin sauntered down to the reading-room, hoping vainly to fall 
 in with some one he knew. He lounged listlessly along the bright 
 streets, till their very glare addled him ; he stared at the thousand 
 new inventions of luxury and ease the world had discovered since he 
 had last seen it, and then he plodded gloomily homeward, to dine 
 and listen to her Ladyship's discontented criticism upon the tire- 
 some place and the odious people who filled it. Paris Avas, indeed, a 
 deception and a snare to them ! So far from finding it cheap, the 
 expense of living — as they lived — was considerably greater than at 
 London. It was a city abounding in luxuries, but all costly. The 
 details which are in England reserved for days of parade and display, 
 were here daily habits, and these were now to be indulged in with 
 all the gloom of solitude and isolation. 
 
 "What wonder, then, if her Ladyship's temper was rufiled, and her 
 equanimity unbalanced by such disappointments ? In vain she pe- 
 rused the list of arrivals to find out some distinguished acquaintance ; 
 in vain she interrogated her son as to what was going on, and who 
 were there. Tlie Captain only frequented the Club, and could best 
 chronicle the names that were great at whist or illustrious at 
 billiards, 
 
 "It svirely cannot be the season here," cried she, one morning, 
 peevishly, " for really there isn't a single person one has ever heard 
 of, at Paris." 
 
 " And yet this is a strong catalogue," cried the Captain, with a 
 malicious twinkle in his eye. " Here are two columns of somebodies, 
 who were present at Madame de Luygnes' last night." 
 
 " You can always fill salons, if that be all," said she, angrily. 
 
 " Yes, but not with Tour du Pins, Tavannes, Eochefoucaulds, 
 Howards of Maiden, and Greys of Allingtou, besides such folk as 
 Pahlen, Lichtenstein, Colonna, and so forth." 
 
 " How is it, then, that one never sees them ?" cried she, more 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Say, rather, how is it one doesn't know them," cried Martin, 
 " for here we are seven weeks, and, except to that gorgeous fellow in 
 the cocked-hat at the porter's lodge, I have never exchanged a salute 
 with a human being." 
 
 " There are just three houses, they say, in all Paris, to one or 
 other of which one must be presented," said the Captain — " Madame de 
 Luygnes, the Duchesse de CourceUes, and Madame de Mirecourt."
 
 332 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 " That Madame de Luygnes was your old mistress, was she not, 
 Miss Henderson?" asked Lady Dorothea, haughtily. 
 
 " Tes, my lady," was the calm reply. 
 
 " And who are these other people ?" 
 
 " The Due de Mirecourt was married to ' Mademoiselle,' the 
 daughter of the Duchesse de Luygnes." 
 
 " Have you heard or seen anything of them since you came here?" 
 asked her Ladyship. 
 
 " 'No, my Lady, except a hurried salute yesterday from a carriage 
 as we drove in. I just caught sight of the Duchess as she waved her 
 hand to me." 
 
 " Oh, I saw it. I returned the salutation, never suspecting it was 
 meant for f/ou. And she was your companion — your dear friend — 
 long ago ?" 
 
 "Yes, rpy Lady," said Kate, bending down over her work, but 
 showing in the crimson flush that spread over her neck how the 
 speech had touched her. 
 
 "And you used to correspond, I think?" continued her Lady- 
 ship. 
 
 " We did so, my Lady." 
 
 " And she dropped it, of course, when she married — she had other 
 things to think of?" 
 
 " I'm afraid, my Lady, the lapse was on mi/ side," said Kate, 
 scarcely repressing a smile at her own hardihood. 
 
 " Your side ! Do you mean to say that you so far forgot what 
 was due to the station of the Duchesse de Mirecourt, that you left 
 her letter unreplied to ?" 
 
 " Not exactly, my Lady." 
 
 " Then, pray, what do you mean ?" 
 
 Kate paused for a second or two, and then, in a very calm and 
 collected voice, replied : 
 
 " I told the Duchess, in my last letter, tliat I should write no 
 more — that my life was thrown in a wild, unfrequented region, where 
 no incident broke the monotony, and that were I to continue our 
 correspondence, my letters must degenerate into a mere selfisli record 
 of my own sentiments, as unprofitable to read as ungraceful to write ; 
 and so I said good-by — or au revoir, at least — till other scenes 
 might suggest other thoughts." 
 
 " A most complimentary character of our Land of the West, 
 certainly ! I really Avas not aware before that Cro' Martin was 
 regarded as an ' oubliette.' " 
 
 Kate made no answer — a silence which seemed rather to irritate 
 than appease her Ladyship.
 
 tsafeas?sa«*^
 
 THE MAETINS OP CKO' MARTIN. 333 
 
 " I hope you included the family in your dreary picture. I trust 
 it was not a mere piece of what artists call still life, Miss Hen- 
 derson ?" 
 
 "No, my Lady," said she, with a deep sigh; but the tone and 
 manner of the rejoinder were anything but apologetic. 
 
 " Now I call that as well done as anything one sees in Hyde 
 Park," cried the Captain, directing attention as he spoke to a very 
 handsome chariot which had just driven up to the door. " They're 
 inquiring for somebody here," continued he, as he watched the 
 Chasseur as he came and went from the carriage to the house. 
 
 " There's a Grandee of Spain, or something of that kind, lives on 
 the fourth floor, I think," said Martin, drily. 
 
 " The Duchesse de Mirecourt, my Lady," said a servant, entering, 
 " begs to know if your Ladyship will receive her ?" 
 
 Kate started at the words, and her colour rose till her cheeks were 
 crimsoned. 
 
 " A visit, I susj)ect, rather for you than me, Miss Henderson," 
 said Lady Dorothea, in a half whisper. And then turning to her 
 servant, nodded her acquiescence. 
 
 "I'm ofi"," said Martin, rising suddenly to make his escape. 
 
 " And I too," said the Captain, as he made his exit by an oppo- 
 site door. 
 
 The folding-doors of the apartment were at the same moment 
 thrown wide, and the Duchesse entered. Very young — almost 
 girlish, indeed — she combined in her appearance the charming fresh- 
 ness of youth with that perfection of gracefulness which attaches to 
 the liigher classes of French society, and although handsome, more 
 striking from the fascination of manner than for any traits of 
 beauty. Curtseying sliglitly, but deferentially, to Lady Dorothea, she 
 apologised for her intrusion by the circumstance of having, the day 
 
 before, caught siglit of her "dear governess and dear friend " 
 
 And as she reached thus for, the deep-drawn breathing of another at- 
 tracted her. She turned and saw Kate, who, pale as a statue, stood 
 leaning on a chair. In an instant she was in her arms, exclaiming, 
 in a rapture of delight, " My dear, dear Kate — my more than sister ! 
 Tou would forgive me, Madame," said she, addressing Lady Doro- 
 thea, " if you but knew what we were to each other. Is it not so, 
 Kate ?" 
 
 A faint tremulous motion of the lips — all colourless as they Avere 
 — was the only reply to tlie speech ; but the young Frenchwoman 
 needed none, but turning to her Ladyship, poured forth with native 
 volubility a story of their friendship, the graceful language in
 
 334i THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAUTIN. 
 
 which she uttered it lending tliose choice phrases which never seem 
 exaggerations of sentiment till they be translated into other tongues. 
 Mingling her praises with half reproaches, she di'ew a picture of 
 Kate so flattering, that Lady Dorothea could not help a sense of 
 shrinking terror that one should speak in such terms of the Gover- 
 ness. 
 
 "And now, dearest," added she, turning to Kate, "are we to see 
 a great deal of each other ? Wiien can you come to me ? Pardon 
 me, Madame, this question should be addressed to you." 
 
 " Miss Henderson is my secretary, Madame la Duchesse ; she is 
 also my companion," said Lady Dorothea, haughtily ; " but I can ac- 
 knowledge claims which take date before my own. She shall be 
 always at liberty when you wish for her." 
 
 " How kind, how good of you," cried the Duchesse. " I could have 
 been certain of that. I knew that my dear Kate must be loved by. 
 all around her. "We have a little fete on Wednesday at St. Germain. 
 May I bespeak her for that day ?" 
 
 " Her Ladyship suffers her generosity to trench upon her too far," 
 said Kate, in a low voice. " I am in a manner necessary to her — 
 that is, my absence would be inconvenient." 
 
 "But her Ladyship will doubtless be in the world herself that 
 evening. There is a ball at the Duchesse de Sargance, and the 
 Austrian Minister has something," rattled on the lively Duchesse. 
 " Paris is so gay just now, so full of pleasant people, and all so eager 
 for enjoyment. Don't you find it so, my Lady ?" 
 
 " I go but little into society !" said Lady Dorothea, stijQSy. 
 
 " How strange ; and I — I cannot live without it. Even when we 
 go to our Chateau at Eoche-Mire I carry away with me all my friends 
 who will consent to come. "We try to imitate that delightful life of 
 your country-houses, and make up that great family party which is 
 the leatc ideal of social enjoyment." 
 
 " And you like a country life, then ?" asked her Ladyship, 
 
 " To be sure. I love the excursions on horseback, the forest 
 drives, the evening walks in the trellised vines, the parties one makes 
 to see a thousand things one never looks at afterwards ; the little 
 dinners on the grass, with all their disasters, and the moonlight drive 
 homewards, half-joyous, half-romantic — not to speak of that charm- 
 ing frankness by which every one makes confession of his besetting 
 weakness, and each has some little secret episode of his own life to 
 tell the others. All but Kate here," cried she, laughingly, "who 
 never revealed anything." 
 
 " Madame la Duchesse will, I'm sure, excuse my absence j she has
 
 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 335 
 
 doubtless maBy things she Avoiild like to say to her friend alone," 
 said Lady Dorothea, rising and curtseying formally ; and the young 
 Duchesse returned the salutation with equal courtesy and respect. 
 
 " My dear, dear Kate," cried she, throwing her arms around her as 
 the door closed after her Ladyship, " how I have longed for this 
 moment, to tell you ten thousand things about myself and hear from 
 you as many more. And first, dearest, are you happy ? for you look 
 more serious, more thoughtful than you used — and paler, too." 
 
 " Am I so ?" asked Kate, faintly. 
 
 " Yes. "When you're not speaking, your brows grow stern and 
 your lips compressed. Tour features have not that dear repose, as 
 Giorgevo used to call it. Poor fellow ! how much in love he was, and 
 you've never asked for him !" 
 
 " I never thought of him !" said she, with a smile, 
 . " Nor of riorian, Kate ?" 
 
 "Nor even of him." 
 
 " And yet that poor felloAV was really in love — nay, don't laugh, 
 Kate, I know it. He gave up his career — everything he had in life 
 — he was a Secretary of Legation, with good prospects — all to win 
 your favour, becoming a ' Carbonaro,' or a ' Montagnard,' or some- 
 thing or other that swears to annihilate all Kings and extirpate 
 Monarchy." 
 
 " And after that ?" asked Kate, with more of interest. 
 
 " After that, ma chore, they sent him to the galleys ; I forget 
 exactly where, but I think it was in Sicily. And then there was 
 that Hungarian Count Nemescz, that wanted to kill somebody who 
 picked up your bouquet out of the Grand Canal at Venice." 
 
 " And whom, strangely enough, I met and made acquaintance 
 with in Ireland. His name is Massingbred." 
 
 " Not the celebrity, surely — tlie young politician who made such a 
 sensation by a first speech in Parliament t'other day ? He's all the 
 rage here. Could it be him ?" 
 
 "Possibly enough," said she, carelessly. "He had very good 
 abilities, and knew it," 
 
 " He comes to us occasionally, but I scarcely have any acquaint- 
 ance with him. But this is not telling me of yourself, child. Who 
 and what are these people you are living with ? Do they value my 
 dear Kate as they ought ? Are they worthy of having her amongst 
 them ?" 
 
 " I'm afraid not," said Kate, with a smile. " They do not seem at 
 all impressed with the blessing they enjoy, and only treat me as one 
 of themselves."
 
 336 THE MAUTINS OF CRO' AIAKTIN. 
 
 " But, seriously, child, arc they as kiud as they should be ? That 
 old lady is, to my thinking, as austere as an Archduchess." 
 
 " I like her," said Kate ; " that is, I like her cold, reserved manner, 
 unbending as it is, which only demands the quiet duties of servitude, 
 and neither asks nor wishes for affection. She admits me to no 
 friendship, but she exacts no attachment." 
 
 " And you like this ?" 
 
 " I did not say I should like it from you .'" said Kate, pressing the 
 hand she held fervently to her lips, while her pale cheek grew faintly 
 red. 
 
 " And you go into the world with her — at least, her world ?" 
 
 " She has none here. Too haughty for second-rate society, and 
 unknown to those who form the first class at Paris, she never goes 
 out." 
 
 " But she would — she would like to do so ?" 
 
 " I'm sure she would." 
 
 "Then mamma shall visit her. Tou know she is everything here ; 
 her house is the rendezvous of all the distinguished people, and, once 
 seen in her salons, my Lady — how do you call her ?" 
 
 " Lady Dorothea Martin." 
 
 " I can't repeat it — but no matter — her Ladyship shall not want 
 for attentions. Perhaps she would condescend to come to me on 
 "Wednesday ? Dare I venture to ask her ?" 
 
 Kate hesitated, and the Duchesse qviickly rejoined : 
 
 " No, dearest, you are quite right ; it would be hazardous, too 
 abrupt, too unceremonious. Tou will, however, be with us ; and I 
 long to present you to all my friends, and show them one to whom I 
 owe so much, and ought to be indebted to for far more. I'll send for 
 you early, that we may have a long morning together." And so 
 saying she arose to take leave. 
 
 " I feel as though I'll scarcely believe I had seen you when you 
 have gone," said Kate, earnestly. " I'll fancy it all a dream — or 
 rather, tliat my life since we met has been one, and that we had never 
 parted." 
 
 " Were we not very happy then, Kate?" said the Duchesse, with 
 a half-sigh ; " happier, perhaps, than we may ever be again." 
 
 " Tou must not say so, at aU events," said Kate, once more em- 
 bracing her. And they parted. 
 
 Kate arose and watched the splendid equipage as it drove away, 
 and then slowly returned to her place at the work-table. She did 
 not, however, resume her embroidery, but sat deep in reflection, with 
 her hands clasped before her.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MABTIN. 337 
 
 " Poor fellow," said she, at length, "a galley-slave, and Massing- 
 bred a celebrity ! So much for honesty and truth in this good woi-ld 
 of ours ! Can it always go on thus ? That is the question I'm 
 curious to hear solved. A little time may, perhaps, reveal it !" And 
 so saying to herself, she leaned her head upon her hand, deep lost in 
 thought. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A VERY GREAT FAVOUR. 
 
 Amongst the embarrassments of stor3^-telling there is one Avhich, 
 to be appreciated, must have been experienced ; it is, however, suffi- 
 ciently intelligible to claim sympathy even by indicating — we mean 
 the difficulty a narrator has in the choice of those incidents by Avhich 
 his tale is to be marked out, and the characters who fill it adequately 
 depicted. 
 
 It is quite clear that a great number of events must occur in the 
 story of every life of which no record can be inade, some seem too 
 trivial, some, too irrelevant for mention, and yet, when we come to 
 reflect upon real life itself, how many times do Ave discover that what 
 appeared to be but the veriest trifles were the mainsprings of an 
 entire existence, and the incidents which we deemed irrelevant were 
 the hidden links that connected a whole chain of events ? How easy, 
 then, to err in the selection ! This difficulty presents itself strongly 
 to us at present ; a vast number of circumstances rise before us 
 from which we must refrain, lest they should appear to indicate a 
 road we are not about to tx-avel, and, at the same time, we feel the 
 want of those very events to reconcile what may well seem contra- 
 dictions in our history. 
 
 It not unfrequently happens that an apology is just as tiresome 
 as the offence it should excuse, and so, without further explanation, 
 we proceed. Lady Dorotliea soon found herself as much sought 
 after as she had previously been neglected. The Duchesse de Luygnes 
 was the great leader of fashion at Paris, and the marked attentions 
 by which she distinguished her Ladyship at once established her 
 position. Of course her luiquestiouablo claim to station, and her 
 own high connexions, rendered the task less difficult, wliile it im- 
 parted to Lady Dorothea's own manner and bearing that degree of 
 dignity and calm which never accompany an insecure elevation. 
 
 z
 
 338 THE MAKTINS OF CEo' MAETIN. 
 
 "With such refinement of delicacy, such exquisite tact, was every 
 step managed, that her Ladyslii[) was left to suppose every attention 
 she received sprung out of lier own undeniable right to them, and to 
 the grace and charm of a manner whicli really liad had its share of 
 success some five-and-thirty years before. The gloomy isolation she 
 bad passed through gave a stronger contrast to the enjoyment of her 
 present life, and for the first time for years she regained some of 
 that courtly elegance of address, which in her youth had pre- 
 eminently distinguished her. The change had worked favourably in 
 her temper also; rnd Martin perceived, with astonishment, that she 
 neither made injurious comparisons between the present and the 
 past, nor deemed the age ihey lived in one of insuft'erable vulgarity. 
 It would scarcely have been possible for Lady Dorothea not to con- 
 nect her altered position with the friendsln'p between Kate Hender- 
 son and her former pupil : she knew it, and she felt it. All her 
 sell-esteem could not get over this consciousness ; but it was a 
 humiliation reserved for her own heart, since nothing in Kate's 
 manner indicated even a suspicion of the fact. On the contrary, 
 never had she shown herself more submissive and dependent. The 
 duties of her office, multiplied as they were tenfold by her Lady- 
 ship's engagements, were all punctually acquitted, and with a de- 
 gree of tact and cleverness that obtained from Lady Dorothea the 
 credit of a charming note-writer. Nor was she indifferent to the 
 effect Kate produced in society, whei*e her beauty and fascina- 
 tion had already made a deep impression. 
 
 Keserving a peculiar deference and respect for all her intercourse 
 with Lady Dorothea, Kate Henderson assumed to the world at large 
 the ease and dignity of one whose station was the equal of any. 
 There was nothing in her air or bearing that denoted the dependant ; 
 there was rather a dash of haughty superiority, which did not scruple 
 to avow itself and bid defiance to any bold enough to question its 
 claims. Even this was a secret flattery to Lady Dorothea's heart ; 
 and she saw with satisfaction the success of that imperious tone 
 which to herself was subdued to actual himiility. 
 
 Lady Dorothea Martin and her beautilul companion were now 
 celebrities at Paris, and assuredly no city of the world knows how 
 to shower more fascinations on those it favours. Life became to 
 them a round of brilliant festivities. They received invitations from 
 every quarter, and everywhere were met with that graceful welcome 
 so sure to greet tliose whose air and whose dress are the ornaments of 
 a salon. They " received" at home, too ; and her Lad} ship's Saturdays 
 were about the most exclusive of all Parisian receptions. Tacitly at
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 339 
 
 least, the whole management and direction of these "Evenings" 
 was committed to Kate. Martin strictly abstained from a society 
 in every way distasteful to him. The Captaia bad come to care for 
 nothing but play, so that the Club was his only haunt ; and it was 
 the rarest of all events to see him pass even a few minutes in the 
 drawing-room. He had, besides, that degree of shrinking dislike to 
 Kate Henderson, Avhich a weak man very often experiences towards 
 a clever and accomplished girl. When he first joined his family at 
 Paris, he was struck by her great beauty and the elegance of a 
 manner that might have dignified any station, and he fell partly in 
 love — that is to say, as much in love as a Captain of Hussars could 
 permit himself to feel for a Governess. He condescended to make 
 small advances, show her petty attentions, and even distinguish her 
 by that flattering stare, with his glass to his eye, which he had 
 known to be what the poet calls " blush-compelling" in many a fair 
 cheek in provincial circles. 
 
 To his marvellous discomfiture, however, these measures were not 
 followed by any success. She never as much as seemed aware of 
 them, and treated him with the same polite indiff"erence as though he 
 had been neither a Hussar nor a lady-killer. Of course he interpreted 
 this as a piece of consummate cunning; he had no other measure for 
 her capacity than would have been suited to his own : she was a 
 deep one, evidently bent on drawing him on, and entangling him in 
 some stupid declaration, and so he grew cautious. But, somehow, 
 his reserve provoked as little as his boldness. She did not change in 
 the least ; she treated him with a quiet, easy sort of no-notice — the 
 most offensive thing possible to one bent upon being impressive, and 
 firmly persuaded that he need only wish, to be the conqueror. 
 
 Self-worship was too strong in him to sufter a single doubt as to 
 his own capacity for success, and therefore the only solution to the 
 myater-y of her manner was its being an artful sclieme, which time 
 and a little watching would surely explain. Time went on, and yet 
 he grew none the wiser — Kate continued the same impassive crea- 
 ture as at first. She never sousiht — never avoided him. She met 
 him without constraint — without pleasure too. They never became 
 intimate, while there was no distance in their intercourse ; till at last, 
 Avouuded in his self-esteem, he began to feel that discomfort in her 
 presence which only waits for the sliglitest provocation to become 
 actual dislike. 
 
 With the peevishness that belongs to small minds, he would have 
 been glad to have discovered some good ground for hating her, and a 
 dozen times a day did he fancy that he had " hit tbe blot," but some- 
 
 z 2
 
 340 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 how he always detected his mistake ere long ; and thus did he live 
 on in that tantalising state of uncertainty and indecision which com- 
 bines about as much suiferiug as men of his stamp are capable of 
 feeling. 
 
 ' If Lady Dorothea never suspected the degree of influence Kate 
 silently exercised over lier, the Captain saw it palpably, and tried to 
 nourish the knowledge into a ground for dislike. But somehow she 
 ■would no more sufler herself to be hated than to be loved, and inva- 
 riably baffled all his attempts to " get up" an indignation against 
 her. By numberless devices — too slight, too evanescent to be called 
 regular coquetry — she understood how to conciliate him, even in liis 
 roughest moods, while she had only to make the very least possible 
 display of her attractions to fascinate him, in his happier moments. 
 The gallant Hussar was not much given to self-examination. It was 
 one of the last positions he would have selected, and yet he had con- 
 fessed to his own heart, that, though he'd not like to marry her him- 
 self, he'd be sorely tempted to shoot any man who made her liis 
 wife. 
 
 Lady Dorothea and Kate Henderson were seated one morning 
 engaged in the very important task of revising the invitation-book — 
 weeding out the names of departed acquaintance, and canvassing 
 the claims of those who should succeed them. The rigid criticism 
 as to eligibility showed how great an honour was the card for her 
 Ladyship's " Tea." While they were thus occupied. Captain Martin 
 entered the room with an open letter in his hand, his air and manner 
 indicating flurry, if not actual agitation. 
 
 " Sorry to intei'rupt a privy council," said he, " but I've come to 
 ask a favour — don't look frightened, it's not for a woman, my Lady 
 — but I want a card for your next Saturday, for a male friend of 
 mine." 
 
 " Kate has just been telling me that ' our men' are too numerous." 
 
 " Impossible. Miss Henderson knows better than any one tliat 
 the success of these things depends on having a host of men — all 
 ages, all classes, all sorts of people," said he, indolently. 
 
 "I think we have complied with your theory," said she, pointing 
 to the book before her. " If our ladies are chosen for their real 
 qualities, the men have been accepted with a most generous for- 
 bearance." 
 
 " One more, then, will not damage the mixture." 
 
 " Of coui'se. Captain Martin, it is quite sufficient that he is a 
 friend of yours — that you wish it " 
 
 "But it is no such thing, Miss Henderson," broke in Lady Doro-
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 341 
 
 tliea. " AVe have already given deep umbrage in many quarters — 
 very high quarters, too — by refusals, and a single mistake "would be 
 fatal to us." 
 
 "But why need this be a mistake?" cried Captain Martin, 
 peevishly. " The man is an acquaintance of mine — a friend, if you 
 like to call him so." 
 
 "And who is he?" asked my Lady, with all the solemnity of a 
 judge. 
 
 " A person I met at the Cape. "We travelled home together — saw 
 a great deal of each other — in fact — I know him as intimately as I do 
 — any officer in my regiment," said the Captain, blundering and falter- 
 ing at every second word. 
 
 " Oh ! then he is one of your own corps ?" said her Ladyship. 
 
 " I never said so," broke he in. " If he had been, I don't fancy I 
 should need to employ much solicitation in his behalf; the — th 
 are not usually treated in that fashion!" 
 
 " I trust we should know how to recognise their merits," said 
 Kate, with a look which sorely puzzled him whether it meaiit con- 
 ciliation or raillery. 
 
 "And his name?" asked my Lady. "His name ought to be 
 decisive, without anything more !" 
 
 " He's quite a stranger here ; knows nobody, so that you incur no 
 risk as to any impertinent inquiries, and when he leaves this, to- 
 morrow or next day, you'll never see him again." This the Captain 
 said with all the confusion of an inexpert man in a weak cause. 
 
 " Shall I address his card, or will }^ou take it yourself, Captain 
 Martin ?" said Kate, in a low voice. 
 
 " Write Merl — Mr. Herman Merl," said he, dropping his own 
 voice to the same tone. 
 
 " Merl !" exclaimed Lady Dorothea, whose quick hearing detected 
 the words. " AVhy, where on earth could you have made acquaint- 
 ance with a man called Merl ?" 
 
 " I have told you already where and how we met, and if it be any 
 satisfaction to you to know that I am under considerable obligations 
 — heavy obligations — to this same gentleman, perhaps it might incline 
 you to show him some mark of attention." 
 
 " Tou could have him to dinner at your Club — you might even 
 bring him here, when we're alone, Harry ; but really, to receive him 
 at one of our Evenings ! You know how curious people are, what 
 questions they will ask: 'Who is that queer-looking man?' — I'm 
 certain he is so. — ' Is he English ?' ' Who does he belong to ?' 
 ' Does he know any one ?' "
 
 342 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MARTIN. 
 
 " Let them ask me, then," said Martin, " and I may, perhaps, be 
 able to satisfy them." At the same moment he took up from the 
 table the card which Kate had just written, giving her a look of 
 grateful recognition as lie did so. 
 
 "You've done this at your own peril, Miss Henderson," said Ladj 
 Dorothea, half upbraidingly. 
 
 " At mine be it, rather," said the Captain, sternly. 
 
 " I accept my shni*e of it willingly," said Kate, with a glance which 
 brought a deep flush over the Hussar's cheek, and sent tlirough him a 
 strange thrill of pleasure. 
 
 " Then I am to suppose we shall be honoured with your own pre- 
 sence on this occasion — rare favour, that it is," said her Ladyship. 
 
 " Yes, I'll look in. I promised Merl to present him." 
 
 "Oh! you needn't," said she, peevishly; "half the men merely 
 make their bow when they meet me, and neither expect me to re- 
 member who they are, or to notice them. I may leave your dis- 
 tinguished friend in the same category." 
 
 A quick glance from Kate — fleeting, but full of meaning — stopped 
 Martin, as he was about to make a hasty reply. And, crumpliug up 
 the card with suppressed passion, he turned and left the room. 
 
 "Don't put that odious name on our list, Miss Henderson," said 
 Lady Dorothea ; " we shall never have him again." 
 
 "I'm rather curious to see him," said Kate. "All this discussion 
 has imparted a kind of interest to him, not to say that there w'ould 
 seem something like a mystery in Captain Martin's conuexiou with 
 him." 
 
 " I confess to no such curiosity," said my Lady, haughtily. " The 
 taste to be amused by vulgarity, is like the passion some people have 
 to see an hospital — you may be interested by the sight, but you 
 may catch a malady for your pains." And wnth this observation of 
 mingled truth and ftillacy her Ladyship sailed proudly out of the 
 room, in all the conscious importance of her own cleverness.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CliO' MAETllT. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 LETTER FROM HOME. 
 
 "While this discussion was going on, Martin was seated in his 
 own room examining the contents of his letter-bag, which the post 
 had just delivered to liim. Avery casual glance at his features would 
 have discovered that tlie tidings which met his eye were very rarely of 
 a pleasant character. For the most part the letters were importunate 
 appeals for money, subscriptions, loans, small sums, to be repaid 
 when the borrower liad risen above his present difficulties, aids to 
 effect some little enterprise on whose very face was failure. Then 
 there were the more formal demands for sums actually due, written 
 in the perfection of coercive courtesy, subjecting the reader to all 
 tlie tortures of a moral surgical operation, a suffering actually in- 
 creased by the very dextei-ity of the manipulator. Then came, in 
 rugged hand and gnarled shape, urgent entreaties for abatements and 
 allowances, pathetic pictures of failing crops, sickness, and sorrow ! 
 Somewhat in contrast to these in matter — most strikingly unlike 
 them in manner — was a short note from Mr. Maurice Scanlan. Like 
 a rebutting witness in a cause, he spoke of everything as going on 
 favourably ; prices were fair, the oat crop a reasonable one ; there 
 was distress, to be sure, but who ever saw the West without it ? The 
 potatoes had partially failed, but as there was a great deal of typhus 
 and a threat of cholera, there would be fewer to eat them. The late 
 storms had done a good deal of mischief, but as the timber thrown 
 down might be sold without any regard to the entail, some thousand 
 pounds would thus be realised, and as the gale had carried away the 
 new pier at Kilkieraii, there would be no need to give a bounty to 
 the fishermen who could not venture out to sea. The damage done 
 to the house and the conservatories at Cro' Martin offered an oppor- 
 tunity to congratulate the owner on the happiness of living in a 
 milder climate, while the local squabbles of the borough suggested 
 the pleasant contrast with all the enjoyments of a life abroad. 
 
 On the whole, Mr. Scanian's letter was rather agreeable tlian the 
 reverse, since he contrived to accompany all the inevitable ills of 
 fortune by some side-wind consolations, and when pushed hard for 
 these, skilfully insinuated in what way " things might have been 
 worse." If the letter did not reflect very favourably on either the
 
 34-i THE MARTINS OF Clio' MAKTIN. 
 
 heart or brain tliat conceived it, it well suited him to -whom it -was 
 addressed. To screen himself from -wliatever miglit irritate him ; to 
 escape an unpleasant thought or luihappy reflection ; to avoid, above 
 all things, the slightest approach of self-censure, was Martin's great 
 philosophy, and he esteemed the man who gave him any aid in this 
 road. ]Srow newspapers might croak their dark predictions about 
 the coming winter, pi-ophesy I'amine, fever, and pestilence, Scanlan's 
 letter, "written from the spot," by " one who enjoyed every oppor- 
 tunity for forming a correct opinion," Avas there, and he said matters 
 were pretty much as usual. The Avest of Ireland liad never been a 
 land of milk and honey, and nobody expected it ever would be — the 
 people could live in it, however, and pay rents too — and as Martin 
 felt that he had no undue severity to reproach himself with, he folded 
 up the epistle, saying that " when a man left his house and property 
 for a while, it was a real blessing to have such a fellow as Scaulan to 
 manage for him;" and truly, if one could have his conscience kept 
 for a few hundreds a year, the compact might be a pleasant one. But 
 eyen. to the most self-indulgent this plan is impracticable ; and so 
 might it now be seen in Martin's heightened colour and fidgety 
 manner, and that even he was not as much at ease within as he wished 
 to persuade himself he was. 
 
 Amid the mass of correspondence, pamphlets, and newspapers, one 
 note, very small and neatly folded, had escaped Martin's notice 
 till the A'ery last ; and it was only as he heaped up a whole bundle 
 to throw into the fire that he discovered this, in Mary's well-known 
 hand. He held it for some time ere he broke the seal, and his 
 features assumed a sadder, graver cast than before. His desertion of 
 her — and he had not blinked the word to himself — had never ceased 
 to grieve him ; and however disposed he often felt to throw upon 
 others the blame which attached to himself, here, he attempted no 
 casuistry, but stood quietly, Avithout one plea in his favour, before his 
 own heart. 
 
 The A'ery consciousness of his culpability had prevented him writing 
 to her as he ought : his letters were few, short, and constrained. 
 Not all the generous frankness of hers could restox'e to him the 
 candid ease of his former intercourse with her; and every chance 
 expression he used was conned over and canvassed by him, lest it 
 might convey some sentiment, or indicate some feeling foreign to his 
 intention. At length so painful had the task become that he had 
 ceased writing altogether, contenting himself with a message through 
 Kate Henderson — some excuse about his health, fatigue, and so
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 31'5 
 
 forth, ever coupled with a promise that lie -n-oukl soon be liimself 
 again, and as active a correspondent as she could desire. 
 
 To these apologies Mary always replied in a kindly spirit ; whatever 
 sori'ow they might have cost her she kept for herself; they never 
 awakened one expression of impatience, not a word of reproach. Slie 
 understood liim thoroughly — his easy indolence of disposition, his 
 dislike to a task, his avoidance of whatever was possible to defer, 
 more even than all these, his own nnforgiveness of himself I'or his 
 part towards her. To alleviate, so far as she might, the poignancy of 
 the last, was for a while the great object of all her letters ; and so 
 she continued to expatiate on the happy life she was leading, her 
 contentment with the choice she had made of remaining there, 
 throwing in little playful sallies of condolence at her uncle's banish- 
 ment, and jestingly assuring him how much happier he would be at 
 home ! 
 
 In whatever mood, however, she Avrote, there was a striking ab- 
 sence of whatever could fret or grieve her vmcle throughout all her 
 letters. She selected every pleasant topic and the favourable side of 
 every theme to tell of. She never forgot any little locality which he 
 had been partial to, or any of the people who were his favourites ; 
 and, in fact, it might have seemed that the great object she liad in 
 view was to attach him more and more to the home he had left, and 
 strengthen every tie that bound him to his own country. And all 
 this was done lightly and playfully, and with a pleasant promise of 
 the liappiness he should feel on the day of his return. 
 
 These letters were about the pleasantest incidents in Martin's 
 present life, and the day Avhich brought liiin one was sure to pass 
 agreeably, while he made vigorous resolutions about writing a reply, 
 and sometimes got even so far as to open a desk and rinninate over 
 an answer. It so chanced that now a niuch longer interval had oc- 
 curred since Mary's last letter, and the appearance of the present 
 note, so unlike the voluminous epistle she usually despatched, struck 
 him with a certain dismay. "Poor TMolly," said he, as he broke the 
 seal, " she is growing weary at last ; this continued neglect is begin- 
 ning to tell iipon her ; a little more, and she'll believe — as well she 
 may — that we have forgotten her altogether." 
 
 The note was even briefer than he had suspected. It was written, 
 too, in what might seem haste, or agitation, and the signature for- 
 gotten. Martin's hand trembled, and his chest heaved heavily as he 
 read the following lines :
 
 31G THE MAETINS OF CBO MARTIN. 
 
 " Cro' Martin, Wednesday Night. 
 "Deahest Uncle, 
 
 "Tou will not suffer these few lines to remain unanswered, since 
 tliey are written in all the pressure of acjreat emergency. Our worst 
 fears for the harvest are more than realised : a total failure in the 
 potatoes — a great diminution in the oat cr<ip ; the incessant rains 
 have flooded all the low meadows, and the cattle are almost without 
 forage, while from the same cause no turf can be cut, and even tliat 
 already cut and stacked cannot be drawn away from the bogs. But, 
 worse than all these, typlius is amongst us, and cholera, they say, 
 coming, I might stretch out this dreary catalogue, but here is 
 enough, more than enough, to awaken your sympathies and arouse 
 you to action. There is a blight on the land : the people are starving 
 — dying. If every sense of duty was dead within us, if we could 
 harden our hearts against every claim of those from whose labour we 
 derive ease, from whose toil we draw wealth and leisure, we might 
 still be recalled to better things by the glorious heroism of these poor 
 people, so nobly courageous, so patient are they in their trials. It is 
 not now that I can speak of the traits I have witnessed of their affec- 
 tion, their charity, their self-denial, and their daring— but now is 
 the moment to siiow them that we, who have been dealt Mith more 
 favourably by fortune, are not devoid of the qualities which adorn 
 their nature. 
 
 " I feel all the cruelty of narrating these things to you, too far 
 away from the scene of sorrow to aid by your counsel and encourage 
 by your assistance; but it M'ould be w^orse than cruelty to conceal 
 from you that a terrible crisis is at hand, which will need all your 
 energy to mitigate. 
 
 '' Some measures are in your power, and must be adopted at once. 
 There must be a reuiissiou of rent almost universally, for the calamity 
 has involved all ; and such as are a little richer than their neighbours 
 should be aided, that they may be the more able to help them. Some 
 stores of provisions must be provided to be sold at reduced rates, or 
 even given gratuitously. Medical aid must be had, and an hospital of 
 some sort established. The able-bodied must be employed on some 
 permanent work ; and for these, we want power from you and some 
 present moneyed assistance. I will not harrow your feelings with 
 tales of sufferings. You have seen misery here — enough, I say — you 
 have witnessed nothing like this, and we are at but the beginning.
 
 THE MARTINS 0¥ CliO' MARTIN, 347 
 
 " "Write to me at once yourself — this is no occasion to employ a 
 deputy — and forgive me, dearest uncle, for I know not what faults of 
 presumption I may have here committed. My head is confused ; the 
 crash of misfortunes has addled me, and eacl) succeed so rapidly on 
 each other, that remedies are scarcely employed than they have to be 
 abandoned. AYhen, hov^ever, I can tell the people that it is their own 
 old friend and master that sends them help, and bids them be of good 
 cheer — when I can show them that, although separated by distance, 
 your heart never ceases to live amongst them — I know well the magic 
 working of such a spell upon them, and how, with a bravery that the 
 boldest soldier never surpassed, they will rise up against the stern 
 foes of sickness and famine, and do battle with hard fortune manfully. 
 
 " You have often smiled at what you deemed my exaggerated 
 opinion of these poor people — my over-confidence in their capacity 
 for good. Oh — take my word for it — I never gave them credit for 
 one-half the excellence of their natures. They are on their trial now, 
 and nobly do they sustain it! 
 
 "I have no heart to answer all your kind questions about myself — 
 enough that I am well — as little can I ask you about all vour doings 
 in Paris. I'm nfraid I should but lose temper if I lieard that they 
 were pleasant ones, and yet, with my whole soul, I wash you to be 
 happy ; and with this, 
 
 " Believe me your affectionate 
 
 " Mr. Eepton has written me the kindest of letters, full of good 
 advice and good sense ; he has also enclosed me a cheque for lOOl., 
 with an offer of more, if wanted. I was low and depressed when his 
 note reached me, but it gave me fresh, energy and hope. He proposed 
 to come down here if I wished ; but how could 1 ask such a sacrifice 
 — how entreat him to face the pei'ilF" 
 
 " Tell Captain Martin I wish to speak to him," said Martin, as he 
 finished the perusal of this letter. And in a few minutes after, that 
 gallant personage appeared, not a little surprised at the summons. 
 
 " I have got a letter from Mary here," said Martin, vainly endea- 
 vouring to conceal his agitation as he spoke, "which I want to show 
 you. Matters are in a sad plight in the West. She never exaggerates 
 a gloomy story, and her account is very afflicting. Head it." 
 
 The Captain lounged towards the M'indow, and, leaning listlessly 
 against the wall, opened the epistle.
 
 348 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 " Tou have not written to her lately, then?" asked he, as lie 
 perused the opening sentence. 
 
 " I am ashamed to say I have not; every day I made a resolution, 
 but, somehow " 
 
 " Is all this anything strange or new ?" broke in the Captain. 
 " I'm certain I have forty letters from my mother with exactly the 
 same story. In fact, before I ever broke the seal, I'd have wagered 
 an equal fifty that the potatoes had failed, the bogs were flooded, the 
 roads impassable, and tlie people dying in thousands ; and yet, when 
 spring came round, by some happy miracle they were all alive and 
 merry again!" 
 
 "Read on," said Martin, impatiently, and barely able to control 
 himself at this heartless commentary. 
 
 " Egad ! I'd have sworn I had read all this before, except these same 
 suggestions about not exacting the rents, building hospitals, and so 
 forth ; that is new. And why does she say, ' Don't write by deputy ?' 
 Who was your deputy ?" 
 
 " Kate Henderson has written for me latterly." 
 
 "And I should say she's quite equal to that sort of thing; she 
 dashes off my mother's notes at score, and talks away, too, all the 
 time she's writing." 
 
 " That is not the question before us," said Martin, sternly. " "When 
 I sent for you to read that letter, it was that you might advise and 
 counsel me what course to take." 
 
 "If you can afford to give away a year's income in the shape of 
 rent, and about as much more in the shape of a donation, of course 
 you're quite free to do it. I only wish that your generosity would 
 begin at home though, for I own to you I'm very hard-up at this 
 moment." This the Captain spoke with an attempted jocularity, 
 which decreased with every Avord, till it subsided into downright 
 seriousness ere he finished. 
 
 " So far from being in a position to do an act of munificenee, I am 
 sorely pressed for money," said Martin. 
 
 The Captain started ; the half-smile with which he had begun to 
 receive this speech died away on his lips as he asked, " Is this really 
 the case?" 
 
 "Most truly so," said Martin, solemnly. 
 
 " But how, in the name of eveiything absurd — how is this pos- 
 sible ? By what stratagem could you have spent five thousand a 
 year at Cro' Martin, and your estate was worth almost three times
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 349 
 
 as inucli ? Giving a very wide margin for waste and robbery, I'd 
 say five thousand could not be made away witb there in a twelve- 
 month." 
 
 " Tour question only shows me how carelessly you must have read 
 my letters to you, in India," said Martin, " other^dse you could not 
 have failed to see the vast improvements we have been carrying out 
 on the property — the roads, the harbours, the new quarries opened, 
 the extent of ground covered by plantation — all the plans, in fact, 
 which Mary had matured " 
 
 "Mary! Mary!" exclaimed the Captain. "And do you tell me 
 that all these things were done at the instigation of a young girl of 
 nineteen or twenty, without any knowledge, or even advice " 
 
 "And who said she was deficient in knowledge?" cried Martin. 
 " Take up the map of the estate, see the lands she has reclaimed, look 
 at the swamps you used to shoot snipe over bearing corn crops, see 
 the thriving A'illage, where once the boatmen were starving, for tliej' 
 dared not venture out to sea without a harbour against bad weather." 
 
 " Tell me the cost of all this. "What's the figure ?" said the Cap- 
 tain; " that's the real test of all these matters, for if yoMr income 
 could only feed this outlay, I pronounce the whole scheme the 
 maddest thing in Christendom. My mother's taste for carved oak 
 cabinets and historical pictures is the quintessence of wisdom in 
 comparison." 
 
 Martin was overwhelmed and silent, and the other went on : 
 
 " Half the fellows in ' ours' had the same story to tell — of estates 
 Avasted, and fine fortunes squandered in what are called improve- 
 ments. If the possession of a good property entails the necessity to 
 spend it all in this fashion, one is very little better than a kind of land- 
 steward to one's own estate; and, for my part, I'd rather call two 
 thousand a year my own, to do what I pleased with, than have a 
 nominal twenty, of which I must disburse nineteen!" 
 
 '•' Am I again to remind you tliat this is not the question before 
 us?" said Martin, with increased sternness. 
 
 " That is exactly the very question," rejoined the Captain. " Mary 
 here coolly asks you, in the spirit of this same improvement-scheme, to 
 relinquish a year's income, and make a present of I know not how 
 much more, simply because things are going badly with them, just as 
 if everybody liasn't tlieir turn of ill-fortune. Egad, I can answer for 
 it, mine hasn't been flourishing latterly, and yet I have heard of no 
 benevolent plan on foot to aid or release me !"
 
 350 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAUTIN. 
 
 To this heartless speech, uttered, however, in most perfect sincerity, 
 Martin made no reply whatever, but sat with folded arms, deep in 
 contemplation. At length, raising his head, he asked, " And have 
 yon, then, no counsel to give — no suggestion to make me ?" 
 
 " Well," said he, suddenly, " if Mary has not greatly overcharged 
 all this story " 
 
 " That she has not," cried Martin, interrupting him. " There's 
 not a line, not a word of her lettei', I'd not guarantee with all I'm, 
 worth in the world." 
 
 " In that case," resumed the Captain, in the same indolent tone, 
 " they must be in a sorry plight, and / think ought to cut and run 
 as fast as they can. I know that's what ice do in India : when the 
 cholera comes, we break up the encampment, and move off some- 
 where else. Tell Mary, then, to advise them to keep out of ' the 
 jungle,' and make for the ' hill country.' " 
 
 Martin stared at the speaker for some seconds, and it was e\'ident 
 how difficult he found it to believe that the words he had just listened 
 to were uttered in deliberate seriousness. 
 
 " If you have read that letter, you certainly have not understood 
 it," said he at last, in a voice full of melancholj'^ meaning. 
 
 " Egad, it's only too easy of comprehension," replied the Captain ; 
 " of all things in life, there's no mistaking a demand for money." 
 
 " Just take it with you to your owai room, Harry," said ]\Iartin, 
 with a manner of more affection than he had yet employed. " It is 
 my firm persuasion, that when you have re-read and thought over it, 
 your impression will be a different one. Con it over in solitude, and 
 then come back and give me your advice." 
 
 The Captain was not sorry to adopt a plan which relieved him so 
 speedily from a very embarrassing situation, and, folding up the note, 
 he turned and left the room. 
 
 There are a great number of excellent people in this w^orld who 
 believe that "Thought," like " Ecarte," is a game wiiich requires two 
 people to play. The Captain was one of these : nor was it within his 
 compi-ehension to iningine how any one individual could suffice to 
 raise the doubts he was called on to canvass or decide. " Who should 
 he now have recourse to?" was his first question; and he had 
 scarcely proposed it to himself, when a soft, low voice said, " What 
 is puzzling Captain Martin ? — can I be of any service to him r" He 
 turned and saw Kate Henderson. 
 
 " Only think how ftrtunate!" exclaimed he. " Just come in here 
 to this drawing-room, and give me your advice."
 
 THE MAETINS 05 CRO' MARTIN. 351 
 
 "Willingly," said she, with a curtsey, the more marked because 
 his iiiauuer indicated a seriousness that betokened trouble. 
 
 " My father has just dismissed me to cogitate over this epistle ; as 
 if, after all, when one has read a letter, that any secret or mystical in- 
 terpretation is to come, by all the reconsideration and reflection in 
 the world." 
 
 "Am I to read it ?" asked Kate, as he placed it in her hand. 
 
 " Of course you are," said he. 
 
 " There is nothing confidential or private in it which I ought not 
 to see ?" 
 
 " Nothing ; and if there were," added he, warmly, " yoz* are one of 
 ourselves, I trust — at least, /think you so." 
 
 Kate's lips closed with almost stern impressiveness, but her colour 
 never changed at this speech, and she opened the letter in silence. 
 Por some minutes she continued to read with the same impassive ex- 
 pression ; but gradually her cheek became paler, and a haughty, 
 almost scornful, expression settled on her lips. " ISo patient ai-e they 
 in their trials," said she, reading aloud the expression of Mary's note. 
 " Is it not possible, Captain Martin, that patience may be pushed a 
 little beyond a virtue, and become something very like cowardice — 
 abject cowardice ?" — "And then," cried she impetuously, and not wait- 
 ing for his reply, " to say that now is the time to show these poor 
 people the saving care and protection that the rich owe them, as if 
 this duty dated t'rom the hour of their being struck down by famine 
 — laid low by pestilence ! or that the debt could ever be acquitted by 
 the relief accorded to pauperism ! Why not have taught these same 
 famished creatures self-dependence, elevated them to the rank of 
 civilised beings, by the enjoyment of rights that give men self-esteem 
 as well as liberty? What do you mean to do. Sir? — or is that 
 your difficulty ?" cried she, hastily changing her tone to one of less 
 energy. 
 
 " Exactly — that is my difficulty. My father, I suspect, wishes me 
 to concur in the pleasant project struck out by Mary, and that, by 
 way of helping tliem^ we should ruin ourselves^ 
 
 " And ?/ow are for " She stopped, as if to let him finish her 
 
 question for her. 
 
 " Egad, 1 don't well know what I'm for, except it be self-preserva- 
 tion. I mean," said he, correcting himself, as a sudden glance of 
 almost insolent scorn shot from Kate's eyes towards him — "1 mean, 
 that i'm certain more than half of this account is sheer exaggeration.
 
 352 THE MA.ETINS OF CRO MAKTIX. 
 
 Mary is friglitcncd — as well slie may be — finding herself all alone, 
 and hearing nothing but the high-coloured stories the people bring 
 her, and listening to calamities from morning to night." 
 
 " But still it may be all true," said Kate, solemnly. " It may be 
 — as Miss Martin writes — that ' there is a blight on the land.' " 
 
 "What's to be done, then?" asked he, in deep embarrassment. 
 
 " The first step is to ascertain what is fact — the real extent of the 
 misfortune." 
 
 "And how is that to be accomplished?" asked he. 
 
 "Can you not think of some means?" said she, with a scarcely 
 perceptible approach to a smile. 
 
 " No, by Jove ! that I cannot, except by going over there, one's 
 self." 
 
 "And why not that ?" asked she, more boldly, while she fixed her 
 large full eyes directly upon him. 
 
 " If you thought that I ought to go — if you advised it, and would 
 actually say, ' Go ' " 
 
 " Well, if I should ?" 
 
 " Then I'd set oft' to-night ; though, to say truth, neither the journey 
 nor the business are much to my fancy." 
 
 "Were they ten times less so. Sir, I'd say, ' Go,' " said she, reso- 
 lutely. 
 
 " Then go I will," cried the Captain; " and I'll start within two 
 hours."
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 353 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 MK. SIERL'S DEPAKTUEE. 
 
 "WoETHT reader, you are neither weak of purpose nor undecided 
 in action ; as little are you easily moved by soft influences, when 
 aided by long eyelashes. But had you been so, it would have been 
 no difficult effort for you to comprehend the state of mind in which 
 Captain Martin repaired to his room to make preparation for his 
 journey. Tliere was a kind of half chivalry in his present purpose 
 that nerved and supported him. It was like a knight-errant of old 
 setting out to confront a peril at the behest of his lady-love ; but 
 against this animating conviction there arose that besetting sin of 
 small minds — a sense of distrust — a lurking suspicion that he might 
 be, all this while, nothing but the dupe of a very artful woman. 
 
 " Who can tell," said he to himself, " what plan she may have in 
 all this, or what object she may propose to herself in getting me out 
 of the way ? I don't think she really cares one farthing about the 
 distress of these people, supposing it all to be true ; and as to typhus 
 fever and cholera, egad ! if they be there, one ought to think twice 
 before rushing into the midst of them. And then, again, what do I 
 know about the country or its habits ? I have no means of judging 
 if it be poorer, or sickliei', or more wretched than usual. To my eyes, 
 it always seemed at the lowest depth of want and misery ; every one 
 went half starved and more than half naked. I'm sure there is no 
 necessity for my going some few hundred and odd miles to refresh 
 my memory on this pleasant fact ; and yet that is precisely what I'm 
 about to do. Is it by way of trying her power over me ? By Jove, 
 I've bit it!" cried he, suddenly, as he stopped arranging a mass of 
 letters Avhich he was reducing to order before his departure. 
 " That's her game ; there's no doubt of it ! She has said to herself, 
 ' This will prove him. If lie do this at my bidding, he'll do more.' 
 Ay, but will he, Mademoiselle ? that's the question. A young Hussar 
 may turn out to be a very old soldier. AVliat if I were just to tell 
 her so. Girls of her stamp like a man all the better when he shows 
 himself to be wide awake. I'd lay a fifty on it she'll care more for 
 me when she sees I'm her own equal in shrewdness. And, after all, 
 why should J go ? I could send my valet, Fletcher— just the kind of 
 fellow for such a mission — never knew the secret he couldn't worm 
 
 2 a
 
 354 THE MABTINS OF CEO MAETIN. 
 
 out ; there never was a bit of barrack scandal he didn't get to the 
 bottom of. He'd be back here within a fortnight, with the whole 
 state of the case, and I'll be bound there will be no humbugging 
 
 Mmr 
 
 This bright idea was not, however, without its share of detracting 
 reflections, for what became of all that personal lieroism on which he 
 reposed such hope, if the danger were to be encountered by deputy ? 
 Tliis was a puzzle, not the less that he had not yet made up his mind 
 whether he'd really be in love with Kate Henderson, or only involve 
 her in an unfortunate attachment for him. While he thus pondered 
 and hesitated, strewing his room with the contents of drawers and 
 cabinets, by way of aiding the labour of preparation, his door was 
 suddenly opened, and Mr. Merl made his appearance. Although 
 dressed with all his habitual regard to effect, and more than an 
 ordinary display of chains and trinkets, that gentleman's aspect be- 
 tokened trouble and anxiety ; at least, there was a certain restlessness 
 in his eye that Martin well understood as an evidence of something 
 wrong within. 
 
 " Are you getting ready for a journey, Captain?" asked he, as he 
 entered. 
 
 " I was thinking of it ; but I believe I shall not go. I'm unde- 
 cided." 
 
 " Up the Ehine ?" 
 
 " No ; not in that direction." 
 
 " South — towards Ital}', perhaps ?" 
 
 " Nor there either. I was meditating a trip to England." 
 
 "We should be on the road together," said Merl, "I'm off by. 
 four o'clock." 
 
 " How so ? What's the reason of this sudden start ?" 
 
 " There's going to be a crash here," said Merl, speaking in a lower 
 tone. " The Government have been doing the thing with too high a 
 hand, and there's mischief brewing." 
 
 " Are you sure of this ?" asked Martin. 
 
 " Only too sure, that's all. I bought in, on Tuesday last, at sixty- 
 four and an eighth, and the same stock is now fifty-one and a 
 
 quarter, and will be forty to-morrow. The day after " Here 
 
 Mr. Merl made a motion with his outstretched arm, to indicate utter 
 extinction. 
 
 " Tou're a heavy loser, then ?" asked Martin, eagerly. 
 
 " I shall be, to the tunc of some thirteen thousand pounds. It was 
 just on that account I came in here. I shall need money within the 
 week, and must turn those Irish securities of yours into cash — some
 
 THE MAETIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 355 
 
 of them at least — and I want a hint from you as to which I ought to 
 dispose of and which hold over. Ton told me one day, I remember, 
 that there was a portion of the property likely to rise greatly in. 
 value " 
 
 " You told one, Sir," said Captain Martin, breaking suddenly in, 
 "when I gave you these same bonds, that they should remaui in 
 your own hands, and never leave them. That was the condition on 
 which I gave them." 
 
 "I suppose, Captain, you gave them for something; you did not 
 make a present of them," said the Jew, colouring slightly. 
 
 "If I did not make a present of them," rejoined 3Iartin, "the 
 transaction was about as profitable to me." 
 
 " You owed me the money, Sir ; that, at least, is the way I regard 
 the matter." 
 
 " And when I paid it by these securities, you pledged yourself not 
 to negotiate them. I explained to you how the entail was settled — 
 that the property must eventually be mine — and you accepted the 
 arrangement on these conditions." 
 
 " All true, Captain ; but nobody told me, at that time, there was 
 going to be a revolution in Paris — which there will be within forty- 
 eight hours." 
 
 " Confounded fool that I was to trust the fellow !" said Martin to 
 himself, but quite loud enough to be heard ; then turning to Merl, 
 he said, " "What do you mean by converting them into cash ? Are 
 you about to sell part of our estate ?" 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, Captain," said Merl, smiling at the in- 
 nocence of the question. " I aui simply going to deposit these where 
 I can obtain an advance upon them. I promise you, besides, it shall 
 not be in any quarter by which the transaction can reach the ears of 
 your family. This assm^ance wUl, I trust, satisfy ^ou, and entitle me 
 to the information I ask for." 
 
 "What information do you allude to?" asked Martin, who had 
 totally forgotten what the Jew announced as the reason of his visit. 
 
 " I asked you, Captain," said Merl, resuming the mincing softness 
 of his usual manner, " as to which of these securities might be the 
 more eligible for immediate negotiation ?" 
 
 " And how should I know. Sir ?" replied the other, rudely. " I am 
 very little acquainted with the property itself; I know still less about 
 tlue kind of dealings you speak of. It does not concern mc in the 
 least what you do, or how you do it. I believe I may have given you 
 bonds for something very like double the amount of aU you ever 
 advanced to me. I hear of nothing from my father but the immense 
 
 2 a2
 
 356 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 resources of this, and tlie great capabilities of that ; but as these same 
 eventualities are not destined to better my condition, I have not 
 troubled my head to remember anything about them. You have a 
 claim of about twenty thousand against me." 
 
 "Thirty-two thousand four hundred and seventy-eight pounds," 
 said the Jew, reading from a small note-book which he had just taken 
 from his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 "That is some ten thousand more than ever I heard of," said 
 Martin, with an hysterical sort of laugh. " Egad, Merl, the fellows 
 were right that would not have you in the ' Cercle.' You'd have 
 'cleared every many of them out' — as well let a ferret into a rabbit 
 warren." 
 
 
 I wasn't aware — I had not heard that I was put up- 
 
 To be sui-e you were ; in all form proposed, seconded, and duly 
 blackballed. I own to you, I thought it very hard, very illiberal. 
 There are plenty of fellows there that have no right to be particular, 
 and so Jack Massingbred as much as told them. The fact is, Merl, 
 you ought to have waited a while, and by the time that Harlowe, and 
 Spencer Cavendish, and a few more such were as deep in your books 
 as I am, you'd have had a walk over. "VVilloughby says the same. It 
 miglit have cost you something smart, but you'd have made it pay in 
 the end— eh, Merl ?" 
 
 To this speech, uttered in a strain of jocular impertinence, Merl 
 made no reply. He had just torn one of his gloves in pieces in the 
 effort to draw it on, and he was busily exerting himself to get rid of 
 the fragments. 
 
 "Lady Dorothea had given me a card for you for Saturday," re- 
 sumed the Captain, " but as you're going away Besides, after this 
 
 defeat at the Club, you couldn't well come amongst all these people; 
 so there's nothing for it but patience, Merl, patience." 
 
 " A lesson that may be found profitable to others, perhaps," said 
 the Jew, with one of his furtive looks at the Captain, who quailed 
 under it at once. 
 
 " I was going to give you a piece of advice, Merl," said he, in a tone 
 the very opposite to his late bantering one. " It was, that you should 
 just take a run over to Ireland yourself, and see the property." 
 
 " I mean to do so. Captain Martin," said the other, calmly. 
 
 " I can't offer you letters, for they would defeat what you desire to 
 accomplish ; besides, there is no member of the family there at pre- 
 sent but a young lady-cousin of mine." 
 
 " Just the kind of introduction I'd like," said the Jew, with all the 
 zest of a man glad to say what he knew would be deemed an imper- 
 tinence.
 
 THE MARTINS Or CRO' MAETIX.- 337 
 
 Martin grew crimson witli suppressed anger, but never spolce a 
 word. 
 
 " Is this the Cousin Mary I have heard you speak of," said Merl — 
 " the great horse-woman, and she that ventures out alone on the 
 Atlantic in a mere skiff?" 
 
 Martin nodded. His temper was almost an overmatch for him, 
 and he dare not trust himself to speak. 
 
 " I should like to see her amazingly, Captain," resumed Merl. 
 
 " Eemember, Sir, you have no lien upon her,'' said Martin, sternly. 
 
 The Jew smirked and ran his fingers through his hair with the air 
 of one who deemed such an eventuality by no means so very remote. 
 
 " Do you know, Master Merl," said Martin, staring at him from 
 head to foot with an expression the reverse of complimentaiy, " I'm 
 half disposed to give you a few lines to my cousin ; and if you'll not 
 take the thing as a ' mauvaise plaisanterie' on my part, I will do so." 
 
 " Quite the contrary. Captain. I'll deem it a great favour indeed," 
 said Merl, with an admirable affectation of unconsciousness. 
 
 " Here goes then," said Martin, sitting down to a table, and pre- 
 paring his writing materials, while in a liurried hand he began : 
 
 " ' Dear Cousin Mart, — This will introduce to you Mr. Herman 
 
 Merl, who visits your remote regions on a tour of ' What shall I 
 
 say?" 
 
 " Pleasure — amusement," interposed -\Ierl. 
 
 " No, when I am telling a lib, I like a big one — I'll say, Philan- 
 thropy, Merl ; and there's nothing so well adapted to cover those 
 secret investigations you are bent upon — a tour of Philanthropy. 
 
 " ' You Avill, I am sure, lend him all possible assistance in his bene- 
 volent object — the same being to dis2:)osc of the family acres — and at 
 the same time direct his attention to Avhatevcr may be matter of 
 interest — whether mines, quarries, or other property easily convertible 
 into cash — treating him in all respects as one to whom I owe many 
 obligations — and several thousand pounds.' 
 
 " Will that do, think you ?" 
 
 " Perfectly — nothinsr better." 
 
 " In return, I shall ask one fiivour at your liands," said Martiu, as 
 he folded and addressed tlic epistle. " It is, that you write me a full 
 account of what you see in the west — how the country looks, and the 
 people. Of course it will all seem terribly poor and destitute, and all 
 that sort of thing, to your eyes, but just try and find out if it be worse 
 than usual. Paddy is such a shrewd fellow, Merl, that it will require 
 all your owii sharpness not to be taken in by him. A long letter 
 full of detail — a dash of figures in it — as to how many sheep have
 
 358 -THE 3IAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 the rot, or how many people have cauglit the fever, ■«-ill improve 
 it — you know the kind of thing I mean — and — I don't suppose you 
 care ahout shooting, yourself, but you'll get some one to tell you — 
 are the birds plenty and in good condition. There's a certain Mr. 
 Scanlan, if you chance upon him, he's up to everything, and not a 
 bad performer at dummy vrhist — though I think i/oio could teach him 
 a thing or two." Merl smiled and tried to look flattered, while tlie 
 other went on : " And there's another, called Henderson, the steward, 
 a very shrewd person — but i/ou don't need all these particulars — you 
 may be trusted to your own good guidance — eh, Merl ?" 
 
 Merl again smiled in the same fashion as before ; in fact, so com- 
 pletely had he resumed the bland expression habitual to him, that the 
 Captain almost forgot the unpleasant cause of his visit, and all the 
 disagreeable incidents of the interview. 
 
 " Tou couldn't give me a few lines to this IVIr. Scanlan?" asked 
 Merl, with an air of easy indifference, 
 
 "Nothing easier," cried the Captain, reseating himself; then sud- 
 denly rising, with the expression of one to whom a sudden thought 
 had just crossed the mind, " AVait one second for me here, Merl ; I'll 
 be back with you at once." And as he spoke he dashed out of the 
 room, and hastened to his father. 
 
 " By a rare piece of luck," cried he, as he entered, " I've jusfc 
 chanced upon the very fellow we want ; an acquaintance I picked up 
 at tlie Cape — up to everything — he goes over to Ireland to-night, and 
 he'll take a run down to Cro' Martin, and send us his report of all lie 
 sees. Whatever he tells us may be relied upon, for, depend upon't, no 
 lady can humbug 7iim. I've just given him a note for Mary, and I'll 
 write a few lines also by way of introducing him to Scanlan." 
 
 Martin could barely follow the Captain, as with rapid utterance he 
 poured forth this plan. " Do I know him ? AVhat's his name r" 
 asked he at last. 
 
 " Tou never saw him. His name is Merl — Herman Merl — a fellow 
 of considerable wealth — a great speculator — one of those Stock 
 Exchange worthies who never deal in less than tens of thousands. 
 He has a crotchet in his head about buying up half the West of 
 Ireland — some scheme about flax and the deep-sea fishery. I don't 
 understand it, but I suppose lie does. At all events, he has plenty of 
 money, and the head to make it fructify ; and if he only take a liking 
 to it, he's the very fellow to buy up Kilkieran, and the islands, and 
 the rest of that waste district you were telling me of t'other night. 
 But I mustn't detain him. He starts at four o'clock, and I only ran 
 over here to tell you not to worry yourself any more about Mary's 
 letter. He'll look to it aU."
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN, 359 
 
 And "vrith this consolatory assurance tlie Captain hastened away, 
 leaving Martin as much relieved in mind as an indolent nature and an 
 easy conscience were sure to make him. To get anybody " to look to" 
 anything, had been his whole object in life ; to know that, whatever 
 happened, there was always somebody who misstated this, or neglected 
 that, at whose door all the culpability — where there was such — could 
 be laid, and but, for whom, he had himself performed miracles of 
 energy and devotedness, and endured all the tortures and trials of a 
 martyr. He was, indeed, as are a great many others in this world, an 
 excellent man to his own heart — kind, charitable, and affectionate ; a 
 well-wisher to his kind, and hopeful of almost every one ; but, all this 
 while, his virtues, like a miser's gold, had no circulation, they 
 remained locked up within him for his own use alone, and there he 
 sat, counting them over and gazing at them, speculating upon all that 
 this affluence could do, and — never doing it ! 
 
 Life abounds with such men. They win respect while they live, 
 and white marble records their virtues when they die ! iSor are they 
 all useless. Their outward bearing at least simulates whatever we 
 revere in good men, and we accept them in the same spirit of com- 
 promise as we take stucco for stone, — if they do no more, they show 
 our appreciation of the " real article." 
 
 The Captain was not long in inditing a short note to Scanlan, to 
 whom, " strictly confidential," Mr. Merl was introduced as a great 
 capitalist and speculator, desirous to ascertain all the resources of the 
 land. Scanlan was enjoined to show him every attention, making his 
 visit in all respects as agreeable as possible. 
 
 " Tliis fellow will treat you well, Merl," said the Captain, as he 
 folded the letter, " give you the best salmon you ever tasted, and a 
 glass of Gordon's Madeira such as few could sport now-a-days. And 
 if you have a fancy for a day with my Cousin Mary's hounds, he'll 
 moimt you admirably, and show you the way besides." And w^ith 
 this speech IMartin wished him good-by, and closing the door after 
 him, added, " And if he'll kindly assist you to a broken neck, it's 
 about the greatest service he could render me !" 
 
 The laugh, silly and meaningless, that followed his utterance of this 
 speech, showed that it was spoken in all the listlessness of one who 
 had not really character enough to be even a " good hater."
 
 360 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE CLUB. 
 
 So little impression had Merl's gloomy forebodings made upon 
 Captain Martin, that he actually forgot everything that this shrewd 
 gentleman predicted, and only partially recalled them when tlie con- 
 versation the next morning at the Club turned on the disturbed 
 state of the capital. People in " Society" find it excessively difficult 
 to believe in anything like an organised opposition to the authorities 
 of a Government. They are so accustomed to hear of street assem- 
 blages being scattered by a few soldiers, mobs routed by a handful of 
 mounted policemen, that they are slow to imagine how any formidable 
 movement can take its rise in such a source. But the maladies of 
 states, like those of the human frame, are often mere trifles in their 
 origin ; chance, and the concurrence of events, swell their importance, 
 till they assume an aspect of perhaps greater menace than they deserve. 
 This is essentially the case in revolutionary struggles, where, at the 
 outset, none ever contemplates the extent to which the mischief may 
 reach. The proclamation of the " Ordinances" as they were called 
 had produced a great excitement in Paris. Groups of men in every 
 street were gathered around some one reading aloud the violent com- 
 mentaries of the public papers ; thouglitful and stern faces were met 
 at every corner ; a look of expectancy — an expression that seemed to 
 say, What next? — was perceptible on all sides. Many of the shops 
 were half closed, and in some, the objects of great value were with- 
 drawn to places of greater security. It was clear to see that men 
 apprehended some great crisis, but whence it should come, or by 
 whose instrumentality promoted, none seemed able to guess. Now 
 and then a mounted orderly would ride by at a smart trot, or a patrol 
 party of dragoons dash past, and the significant glance that followed 
 them indicated how full of meaning these signs appeared. 
 
 The day passed in this state of anxious uncertainty, and although 
 the joiu-uals discussed the condition of the capital as full of danger 
 and menace, an ostentatious announcement in the 3Ioniteur pro- 
 claimed Paris to be tranquil. In society — at least in the world of 
 fashion and liigh life — there were very few who would have disputed 
 the official despatch. " Who and what were they who could dispute 
 the King's Government ? AVho and where were there either leaders
 
 THE MAETIKS OF Clio' MARTIK. 3G1 
 
 or followers ? lu what way should they attempt it ? The troops in 
 and around Paris numbered something over forty thousand, com- 
 manded by an old Marshal of the Empire, now the trustiest adherent 
 of loyalty. The days of Mirabeaus, and Eobespierres, and Dantons had 
 passed away, nor were these times in which men would like to recall 
 the reigns of terror and the guillotine." So they reasoned — or, if the 
 phrase be too strong — so they talked, who lounged on soft-cushioned 
 ottomans, or moved listlessly over luxurious carpets — all agreeing 
 that it would be treasonable in the Ministers to retreat or abate one 
 jot of the high prerogative of the Crown. Powdered heads shook 
 significantly, and gold-embroidered vests heaved indignantly, at the 
 bare thought that the old spirit of '95 should have survived amongst 
 them, but not one dreamed that the event boded seriously, or that 
 the destinies of a great nation were then in the balance. 
 
 It i§ but five-and-twenty years ago, and how much have we learned 
 of the manufacture of revolutions in the interval ! Barricades and 
 street warfare have become a science, and the amovmt of resistance a 
 half-armed populace can offer to a regular force is as much a matter 
 of certainty as a mathematical theorem. At that period, however, 
 men were but in the infancy of this knowledge ; the traditions of the 
 great revolution scarcely were remembered, and, for the most part, 
 they were inapplicable. 
 
 AVhat wonder, then, if people in society smiled scornfully at the 
 purposeless masses that occasionally moved past beneatli their win- 
 dows, shouting with discordant voices some fragments of the Mar- 
 seillaise, or, as they approached the residence of auy in authority, 
 venturinfi: on the more daring crv of " Down with the Ordinances !" 
 The same tone of haughty contempt pervaded " the Club." Young 
 men of fashion, little given to the cares of political life, and really in- 
 different to the action of laws which never invaded the privileges of 
 the play-table, or curtailed one prerogative of the " Coulisses," felt 
 an angry impatience at all the turbulence and riot of the public 
 streets. 
 
 In a mao-nificentlv furnished salon of the Club a number of these 
 young men were now assembled. Gathered from every nation of 
 Europe, many of them bearing names of high historical interest, 
 they were, so far as dress, air, and appearance went, no ignoble repre- 
 sentatives of the class they belonged to. The proud and hauglity 
 Spaniard ; the fierce-eyed, daring-looking Pole ; the pale, intellectual- 
 faced Italian; the courteous liussian, and the fair-haired, stalwart 
 Saxon, were all there ; and, however dissimilar in type, banded 
 together by the magic influence of tlie "set" they moved in, to an 
 almost perfect unitbrraity of sentiment and opinion.
 
 362 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 
 
 " I vote that any man bo fined ten Louis that alludes, however 
 remotely, to this confounded question again," cried Count Gardoui, 
 rising impatiently from his chair and approaching a card-table. 
 
 "And I second you !" exclaimed a Polish Prince, with a Kussian 
 decoration at his button-hole. 
 
 " Carried nein. con. ," said Captain Martin, seating himself at the 
 play-table. " And now for the ' Lansquenet.' " And in a moment 
 every seat was occupied, and purses of gold and pocket-books of 
 bank-notes were strewed over the board. They were all men who 
 played high, and the game soon assumed the grave character that so 
 invariably accompanies large wagers. Wonderfully little passed, except 
 the terms of the game itself. Gambling is a jealous passion, and 
 never admits its votaries to wander in their attention. And now 
 large sums passed from hand to hand, and all the passions of hope 
 and fear racked heads and hearts around, while a decorous silence 
 prevailed, or, when broken, some softly-toned voice alone inter- 
 rupted the stillness. 
 
 "Are you going, Martin?" whispered the young French Count de 
 Nevers, as the other moved noiselessly back from the table. 
 
 " It is high time, I think," said Martin; "this is my seventeenth 
 night of losing — losing heavily, too. I'm sick of it !" 
 
 " Here's a cliance for you, Martin," said a Russian Prince, who 
 had just assumed "the Bank." "You shall have your choice of 
 colour, and your own stake." 
 
 " Thanks— but I'll not be tempted." 
 
 "I say red, and a thousand francs," cried a !N'eapolitan. 
 
 " There's heavier play outside, I suspect !" said Martin, as a wild 
 hoarse shout from the streets re-echoed throu2;li the room. 
 
 " A fine — a fine — Martin is fined !" cried several around the table. 
 
 "Tou haven't left me wherewithal to pay it, gentlemen," said he, 
 laughing. " I was just about to retire, a bankrupt, into private life." 
 
 " Tluit's platoon fire," exclaimed the Pole, as the loud detonation 
 of small arms seemed to shake the very room. 
 
 " Czernavitz also fined," cried two together. 
 
 " I bow in submission to the Court," said the Pole, throwing down 
 the money on the table. 
 
 "Lend me as much more!" said IMartin; "it may change my 
 luck." And with this gambler's philosophy he again drew nigh 
 the table. 
 
 This slight interruption over, the game proceeded as before. 
 Martin, however, Avas now a winner, every wager succeeding, and 
 every bet he made a gain.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CBO' ilAETIlSr. 363 
 
 " There's notliing like a dogged persistence," said tlie Eussian. 
 " Fortune never turns lier back on him who sho'n's constancy. See 
 Martin, now ; by that very resolution he has conquered, and here 
 we are, all cleared out !" 
 
 " I am, for one," cried an Italian, flinging his empty purse on the 
 table. 
 
 " There's my last Louis," said Xevers. " I reserve it to pay for 
 my supper." 
 
 " Martin shall treat us all to supper !" exclaimed another. 
 
 "Where shall it be, then," said Martin; "here, or at my own 
 quarters ?" 
 
 " Here, by all means," cried some. 
 
 " I'm for the Place Yendome," said the Pole, " for who knows 
 but we shall catch a glimpse of that beautiful girl, Martin's ' Belle 
 Irlandaise.' " 
 
 " I saw her to-night," said the Italian, " and I own she is all you 
 say. She was speaking to Yillemart, and I assure you the old 
 Minister won't forget it in a hurry. Something or other he said 
 about the noise in the street drew from him the word ' canaille.' 
 She turned round at once, and attacked him. He replied, and the 
 controversy grew warm; so much so, that many gathered around 
 them to listen, amongst whom I saw the Due de Guiche, Prince de 
 Saulx, and the Austrian Minister. Nothing coidd be more perfect 
 than her manner — calm, without any efiroutery ; assured, and yet no 
 sacrifice of delicacy. It was easy to see, too, that the theme was not 
 one into which she stumbled by au accident ; she knew every event 
 of the Great Revolution, and used the knowledge with consummate 
 skill, and, but for one slip, with consummate temper also." 
 
 " What was the slip you allude to ?" cried the Eussian. 
 
 " It was when Yillemart, after a boastful enumeration of the 
 superior merits of his order, called them the ' Enlighteners of the 
 People.' 
 
 " ' You played that part on one occasion,' said she ; ' but I scarcely 
 thought you'd like to refer to it.' 
 
 " ' How so ? When do you mean ?' asked ho. 
 
 " ' When they hung you to the lanterns,' said she, with the energy 
 of a tigress in her look. Pardie ! at that moment I never saw any- 
 thing so beautiful or so terrible." 
 
 A loud iiproar in the street without, in which the sound of troop- 
 horses passaging to and fro could be distinguished, now intemipted 
 the colloquy. As the noise increased, a low, deep roar, like the 
 sound of distant thunder, could be heard, and the Pole cried out :
 
 364 THE MABTINS OF CRO MARTIN. 
 
 " Messieurs les Sans-culottes, I strongly advise you to turn 
 homewards, for, if I be not much mistaken, here comes the ar- 
 tilleiy." 
 
 " The affair may turn out a serious one, after all," broke iu the 
 Italian. 
 
 " A serious one !" echoed the Pole, scornfully. " How can it ? 
 Forty battalions of infantry, ten tliousand sabres, and eight batteries ; 
 are they not enough, think you, to rout this contemptible herd of 
 street riotei's ?" 
 
 " There — listen ! It has begun already !" exclaimed Martin, as the 
 sharp report of fire-arms, quite close to the windows, was followed by 
 a crash, and then a wild, mad shout, half rage, half defiance. 
 
 " There's nothing for it, in these things, but speedy action," said 
 the Pole ; " grape and cavalry charges to clear the streets, and rifle 
 practice at anything that shows itself at the windows." 
 
 " It is so easy, so very easy to crush a mob," said the Russian, 
 " if you only direct your attention to the leader — think of nothing but 
 liim. Once you show, that, whatever may be the fate of others, 
 death must be his, the whole assemblage becomes a disorganised, 
 unwieldy mass, to be sabred or shot down at pleasure." 
 
 " Soldiers have no fancy for this kind of warfare," said De JSTevers, 
 haughtily ; " victory is never glorious, defeat always humiliation." 
 
 " But who talks of defeat ?" exclaimed the Pole, passionately. 
 " The officer who could fail against such an enemy should be shot by 
 a court-martial. AVe have, I believe, every man of us here, served, 
 and I ask you, what disproportion of force could suggest a doubt of 
 success ?" 
 
 As lie spoke, the door of the room was suddenly opened, and a 
 3'oung man, with dress all disordered, and the fragment of a hat in 
 his hand, entered. 
 
 "What, Massingbred !" cried one, "how came you to be so 
 roughlv handled ?" 
 
 " So much for popular politeness!" exclaimed the llussian, as he 
 took up the tattered remains of a dress-coat, and exhibited it to the 
 others. 
 
 " Pardon me. Prince," replied Massingbred, as he filled a glass of 
 water and drank it off", " this courtesy I received at the hands of the 
 military. I was turning my cab from the Boulevard to enter this 
 street, when a hoarse challenge of a sentry, saying I know not what, 
 attracted my attention. I drew up short, to learn, and tlien suddenly 
 came a rush of the people from behind, which terrified my horse, and 
 set liim off at speed ; tlie uproar incx-easing, the affrighted animal
 
 

 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 365 
 
 dashed madly onward, the crowd flying on every side, when suddenly 
 a bullet whizzed past my head, cutting my hat in two ; a second, at 
 the same instant, struck my horse, and killed him on tlie spot, cab 
 and all rolling over as he fell. How I arose, gained my legs, and 
 was swept away by the dense torrent of the populace, are events of 
 which I am very far from clear. I only know, that although the 
 occurrence happened within half an hour ago, it seems to me like an 
 affair of days since." 
 
 " Tou were, doubtless, within some line of outposts wheii first 
 challenged," said the Pole, "and the speed at which you drove was 
 believed to be an arranged plan of attack, for you say the mob 
 followed you." 
 
 " Very possibly your explanation is the correct one," said Massing- 
 bred, coolly ; " but I looked for more steadiness and composure from 
 the troops, while I certainly did not anticipate so much true courtesy 
 and kindness as I met with from the people." 
 
 "Parbleu! here's Massiugbred becoming Democrat," said one. 
 "The next thing we shall hear is his defence of a barricade." 
 
 " You'll assuredly not hear that I attacked one in such company 
 as inflicted all this upon me," rejoined he, with an easy smile. 
 
 " Here's the man to captivate your ' Belle Irlandaise,' Martin," 
 cried one. "Already is he a hero and a martyr to Eoyal cruelty." 
 
 "Ah! you came too late to hear that," said the Pole, in a whisper 
 to Massingbred ; " but it seems La Henderson became quite a 
 Charlotte Corday this evening, and talked more violent Eepublican- 
 ism than has been heard in a salon since the days of old Egalitc." 
 
 "All lights must be extinguished, gentlemen,'' said the waiter, 
 entering hastily. " The street is occupied by troops, and you must 
 pass out by the Eue de Grenelle." 
 
 " Are the mobs not dispersing, then ?" asked the E-ussian. 
 
 " ]S"o, your Higlmess. They have beaten back the troops from the 
 Quai Voltaire, and are already advancing on the Louvre." 
 
 " AYhat absurdity !" exclaimed the Pole. "If the troops permit 
 this, there is treason amongst them." 
 
 " I can answer for it there is terror, at least," said Massingbred. 
 " All the high daring and spirit is with what you would call the Sans- 
 culottes." 
 
 " That a man sliould tallc tliis way because he has lost a cab- 
 horse!" cried the Pole, insolently. 
 
 " There are men wlio can bear the loss of a country with more 
 equanimity — I know that," whispered Massingbred in his ear, with 
 all the calm sternness of au insult.
 
 3G6 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 " Tou mean this for me /"' said tlie Pole, in a low voice. 
 
 " Of course I do," was the answer. 
 
 "Where? — when? — how?" muttered the Pole, in suppressed 
 passion. 
 
 "I leave all at your disposal," said Massiugbred, smiUng at the 
 other's effort to control his rage. 
 
 " At Versailles — to-morrow morning — pistols." 
 
 Massiugbred bowed, and turned away. At the same instant the 
 waiter entered to say that the house must be cleared at once, or all 
 within it consent to remain close prisoners. 
 
 " Come along, Martin," said Massiugbred, taking his arm. " I 
 shall want you to do me a favour. Let us make our escape by the 
 Eue de Grrenelle, and I'll engage to pilot you safely to your own 
 quarters." 
 
 "Has anything passed between you and Czernavitz?" asked 
 Martin, as they gained the street. 
 
 "A slight exchange of civilities, which requires an exchange of 
 shots," said Jack, calmly. 
 
 " By George ! I'm sorry for it. He can hit a franc-piece at thirty 
 paces." 
 
 " So can I, Martin ; and, what's more, Anatole knows it. He's as 
 brave as a lion, and it is my confounded skill has pushed him on to 
 this provocation." 
 
 " He'll shoot you," muttered Martin, in a half reverie. 
 
 " Not impossible," said Massiugbred. " He's a fellow who cannot 
 conceal his emotions, and will show at once what he means to do," 
 
 " WeU, what of that ?" 
 
 " Simply, that if he intends mischief I shall know it, and send a 
 bullet through his heart." 
 
 Little.as Martin had seen of Massiugbred — they were but Club ac- 
 quaintances of a few weeks back — he believed that he was one of those 
 smart, versatile men, who, with abundance of social ability, acquire re- 
 putation for higher capacity than they possess ; but, above all, he 
 never gave him credit for anything like a settled purpose, or a stern 
 resolution. It was, then, with considerable astonishment that he now 
 heard him avow this deadly determination with all the composure that 
 could vouch for its sincerity. There was, however, little time to think 
 of these things. The course they were driven to follow, by by-streets 
 and alleys, necessitated a long and difficult way. The great thorough- 
 fares which they crossed at intervals were entirely in the possession of 
 the troops, who challenged them as they approached, and only suffered 
 them to proceed when well satisfied with their account. The crowds
 
 THE MARTINS OF Clio' MAETIN. 367 
 
 had all dispersed, and to the late diu aud tumult tliere had succeeded 
 the deep silence of a city sunk in sleep, only broken by the hoarse 
 call of the sentinels, or the distant tramp of a patrol. 
 
 " It is all over, I suppose," said Martin. " The sight of the eight- 
 pounders and the dark caissons has done the work." 
 
 " I don't think so," said Massingbred, " nor do the troops think so. 
 These mobs are not like ours in England, who, with plenty of indi- 
 vidual courage, are always poltroons in the mass. These fellows un- 
 derstand fighting as an ai*t, know how to combine their movements, 
 arrange the modes of attack or defence, can measure accurately the 
 means of resistance opposed to them, and, above all, understand how 
 to be led — something far more difficult than it seems. In my good 
 borough of Oughterard — or yours, rather, Martin, for I have only a 
 loan of it — a few soldiers — the army, as they Avould call them — 
 would sweep the whole population before them. Our countrymen 
 can get up a row, these fellows can accomplish a revolt — there's the 
 difference." 
 
 " Ajid have they any real, substantial grievance that demands such 
 an expiation ?" 
 
 " Who knows ?" said he, laughingly. " There never was a Grovern- 
 ment too bad to live under — there never w^as one exempt from great 
 vices. Half the political disturbances the world has witnessed have 
 arisen from causes remote from State Government — a deficient har- 
 vest, a dear loaf, the liberty of the press invaded — a tyranny always 
 resented by those who can't read — are common causes enough. But 
 here we are now at the Place Vendome, and certainly one should say 
 the odds are against the people." 
 
 Massingbred said truly. Two battalions of infantry, with a battery 
 of guns in position, were flanked by four squadrons of Cuirassiers, 
 the formidable array filling the entire " Place," and showing by their 
 air and attitude their readiness for any eventuality. A chance ac- 
 quaintance with one of the staff enabled Massingbred aud Martin to 
 pass through their lines and arrive at their hotel. 
 
 " Eemeinber," said the officer who accompanied them, " that you 
 are close prisoners, now. My orders are, that nobody is to leave the 
 Place under any pretext." 
 
 " Why, you can scarcely suspect that the Grovernment has enemies 
 in this aristocratic quarter ?" said Massingbred, smiling. 
 
 " Wo have them everywhere," was the brief answer, as he bowed 
 and turned away. 
 
 " I scarcely see how I'm to keep uiy appointment at Versailles to- 
 morrow morning," said Massingbred, as he followed Martin up the
 
 36S THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 spacious stairs. " Happily, Czeruavitz knows mc, and will not misin- 
 terpret my absence." 
 
 " Not to say that he may be unable himself to get there," said 
 Martin. As he spoke, they had reached the door, opening which with 
 his key, the Captain motioned to Massingbred to enter. 
 
 Massingbred stopped suddenly, and in a voice of deep meaning 
 said, " Your livthcr lives here ?" 
 
 " Yes — what then ?" asked Martin. 
 
 '•' Only that I have no right to pass his threshold," said the other, 
 in a low voice. " I was his guest once, and I'm not sure that I re- 
 paid the hospitality as became me. You were aw-ay at the time." 
 
 " You allude to that stupid election affair," said Martin. " I can 
 only say, that I never did, never could understand it. My only feel- 
 ing was one of gratitude to you for saving me from being Member for 
 the Borough. Come along," said he, taking his arm ; " this is no time 
 for your scruples, at all events." 
 
 "No, Martin, I cannot," said the other. " I'd rather walk up to 
 one of those nine-pounders there, than present myself to your lady- 
 mother " 
 
 " But you needn't. You are mi/ guest — these are my quarters. 
 You shall see nobody but myself till you leave this. Eemember 
 what the Captain told us ; we are prisoners here." And without wait- 
 ing for a reply, Martin pushed him before him into the room. 
 
 " Two o'clock," said Massingbred, looking at his watch, "and we 
 are to be at Versailles by eight !" 
 
 " "Well, leave all the care of that to me," said Martin, " and do 
 you throw yourself on the bed there, and take some rest. Without 
 you prefer to sup first ?" 
 
 " No, an hour's sleep is what I stand most in need of; and so I'll 
 say good night." 
 
 Massingbred said this, less that he wanted repose, than a brief 
 interval to be alone with his own thoughts. And now, as he closed 
 his eyes to affect sleep, it was really to commune with his own heart, 
 and reflect over what had just occurred. 
 
 Independently that he liked Czerniavitz personally, he was sorry for 
 a quarrel at such a moment. There was a great game about to be 
 played, and a mere personal altercation seemed something small and 
 contemptible in the face of such events. " What will be said of us," 
 thought he, " but that wo were a pair of hot-headed fools, thinlcing 
 more of a miserable interchange of weak sarcasms than of the high 
 destinies of a whole nation. And it was my fault,' ' added he to himself. 
 " I had no right to reproach him with a calamity hard enough to
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 369 
 
 bear, even without its being a reproach. "What a strange thing is 
 life, after all," thought he; "everything of greatest moment that 
 occurs in it the upshot of an accident — my going to Ireland — my 
 visit to the west — my election — my meeting with Kate Henderson — 
 and now this duel." And, so ruminating, he dropped off into a sound 
 sleep, undisturbed by sounds that might well have broken the heaviest 
 slumber. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVII. 
 
 AN EVENING OF ONE OF TUE "THREE DAYS." 
 
 On" the evening whicb witnessed these events. Lady Dorothea's 
 " reception" had been more than usually brilliant. Numbers had come 
 to show of how little moment they deemed this "street disturbance," 
 as they were pleased to call it ; others, again, were curious to pick up 
 in society the opinions formed on what was passing, among whom were 
 several bigh in the favour of the Court and the confidence of the 
 Government. All, as they arrived, had some little anecdote or 
 adventure to relate as to the difficulties which beset them on the 
 way — the distances which they were obliged to travel — the obstruc- 
 tions, and pass-words, and explanations which met them at every turn. 
 These were all narrated in the easy, jocular tone of passing trifles, the 
 very inconvenience of which suggested its share of amusement. 
 
 As the evening wore on, even these became less frequent ; the 
 streets were already thinning, and, except in some remote, unim- 
 portant parts of the capital, the troops were in possession of all the 
 thoroughfares. Of course the great topic of conversation was the 
 bold stroke of policy then enacting — a measure which all pronounced 
 wise and just, and eminently called for. 
 
 To have heard the sentiments then vittered, the disparaging opinions 
 expressed of the middle and humbler classes, the hopelessness of 
 ever seeing them sufficiently impressed witli their own inferiority, the 
 adulation bestowed on the Monarch and all around liiin, one might 
 really have fancied himself back again at the Tuileries in the time 
 of Louis the Fourteenth. All agreed in deeming the occasion an 
 excellent one to give the people a salutary lesson ; and it was really 
 pleasant to see the warm interest taken by these high and distin- 
 guished persons in the fortunes of their less happy countrynnen. 
 
 To Lady Dorothea's ears no theme could be more grateful, and 
 
 2 B
 
 370 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 she mored from group to group, delighted to mingle her congratula- 
 tions -with those around, and exchange her hopes, and aspirations, and 
 wishes with theirs. Kate Henderson, upon whom habitually de- 
 volved the chief part in these " receptions," was excited and flurried 
 in manner ; a more than ordinary effort to please being dashed, as it 
 were, by some secret anxiety, and the expectation of some coming 
 event. Had there been any one to watcli her movements, he might 
 have seen the eagerness with which she listened to each new account 
 of the state of the capital, and how impatiently she drank in the last 
 tidings from the streets ; nor less marked was the expression of proud 
 scorn upon her features, as she heard the insulting estimate of the 
 populace, and the vainglorious confidence in the soldiery. But more 
 than all these was her haughty indignation as she listened to the 
 confused, mistaken opinions uttered on every side as to the policy 
 of the Government, and the benevolent intentions of the King. Once, 
 and only once, did she forget the prudent reserve she wished to im- 
 pose upon herself; but temper, and caution, and reserve gave way, as 
 she heard a very distinguished person amusing a circle around him 
 by an unfair and unfaithful portraiture of the great leaders of '92. 
 It was then, when stung by the odious epithet of " canaille" applied 
 to those for whose characters she entertained a deep devotion, that 
 she forgot everytliing, and in a burst of indignant eloquence over- 
 whelmed and refuted the speaker. That was the moment, too, in 
 which she replied to Yillemart by a word of terrible ferocity. Had 
 the red cap of Liberty itself been suddenly hoisted in that brilliant 
 assemblage, the dread and terror which arose could scarcely have 
 been greater. 
 
 " Where are we ?" cried the Marquise de LongueviUe. " I thought 
 we were in the Place Vendome, and I find myself in the Tauboui'g 
 St. Antoine !" 
 
 " Does my Lady know that her friend and confidante is a Girondist 
 of the first water ?" said an ex-Minister. 
 
 " Who could have suspected the spirit of Marat under the mask of 
 Ninon de I'Enclos ?" muttered Villemart. 
 
 " AVTiat is this I hear, dearest Katis ?" cried the Duchesse de Mire- 
 court, as she drew the young girl's arm within her own. " They tell 
 me you have terrified every one — that Madame de Soissons has gone 
 home ni, and the old Chevalier de Gardonnes has sent for his con- 
 fessor." 
 
 " I have been very rash — ^very foolish," said Kate, as a deadly 
 pallor came over her ; " but I could bear it no longer. Besides, 
 what does it matter ? They'll hear worse, and bear it too, before three 
 days are over."
 
 \
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAUTIN, 371 
 
 " Then it is all true ?" cried the Duchesse, eagerly. "You told 
 Villemart, that when the Government spoke with grape-shot, the 
 people replied with the guillotine ?" 
 
 "Not exactly," said Kate, with a faint smile. "But are they all 
 going ?" 
 
 " Of course they are. You have frightened them almost to death, 
 and I know you only meant it for jest — one of those little half-cruel 
 jests you were ever fond of. Come with me and say so — come, 
 dearest." And she drew her, as she spoke, into the crowded salon, 
 now already a scene of excited leave-taking. The brilliant company, 
 however, fell back as they came forward, and an expression of mingled 
 dismay and compassion was turned towards the young Duchess, who 
 with a kind of heroic courage drew Kate's arm closer within her own. 
 
 "I am come to make an explanation. Messieurs et Mesdames," 
 said the Duchesse, with her most captivating smile ; " pray vouchsafe 
 me a hearing. My friend — my dearest, best friend, here — has, in a 
 moment of sportive pleasantry, suflfered herself to jest " 
 
 " It was a jest, then ?" broke in Madame de Longueville, haughtily. 
 
 "Just as that is," replied Kate, lifting her hand and pointing in 
 the direction whence came a terrible crash of artillery, followed by the 
 rattle of musketry. 
 
 "Let us go — ^let us awa}- !" was now heard in affrighted accents on 
 every side ; and the splendid assemblage, with less of ceremony than 
 might be expected, began to depart. Lady Dorothea alone was 
 ignorant of what had occurred, and witnessed this sudden leave-taking 
 with amazement. "You are surely not afraid?" said she to one; 
 " there is nothing serious in all this." 
 
 "She has told us the reverse, my Lady," was the reply. "We 
 should be compromised to remain longer in her company." 
 
 " Adieu, my Lady. I wish we left you in safer companionship." 
 
 "Farewell, Madame, and pray be warned of your danger," whis- 
 pered another. 
 
 " Your Ladyship may be called upon to acquit debts contracted by 
 another, if Mademoiselle continues a member of your family," said 
 Villemart, as he bowed his departure. 
 
 " Believe me, Madame, none of us include you in the terrible sen- 
 timents we have listened to." 
 
 These, and a vast number of similar speeches, attended the leave- 
 taking of nearly each of her guests, till Lady Dorothea, confused, 
 almost stunned by reiterated shocks, sat silently accepting these 
 mysterious announcements, and almost imagining herself in all the 
 bewilderment of a dream. 
 
 2 B 2
 
 372 THE MABTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 Twice she made an effort to ask some explanation, but failed, and it 
 was only as the Duchesse de Mirecourt drew nigh to say farewell, 
 that in a faint, weak voice she said : 
 
 " Can you tell me what all are hinting at ? or am I only confusiuf^' 
 myself with the terrible scenes without ?" 
 
 " I'd have prevented it, had I been near. I only heard it when too 
 late, my Lady," said tlie Duchesse, sorrowfully. 
 
 " Prevented what ? — heard what ?" cried Lady Dorothea. 
 
 " Besides, she has often said as much amongst ourselves ; we only 
 laughed, as indeed every one would do now, did not events present so 
 formidable an aspect." 
 
 '' Who is she you speak of? Tell me, I beseech you. "What does 
 this mean?" 
 
 "I am the culprit, my Lady," said Kate, approaching with all the 
 quiet stateliness of her peculiar manner. " I have routed this gor- 
 geous assembly — shocked your most distinguished guests — and horri- 
 fied all whose sentiments breathe loyalty ! I am sincerely sorry for 
 my offence, and it is a grave one." 
 
 " JoM — yoiv have dared to do this ?" 
 
 "Too true. Madam," rejoined Kate. 
 
 " How and to whom have you had the insolence " 
 
 She stopped, overcome by passion, and Kate replied : 
 
 " To all who pleased to listen, my Lady, I have said what doubtless 
 is not often uttered in such choice company, but what, if I mistake 
 not greatly, their ears will grow familiar with ere long." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said the Duchesse, in a tone of apology, " the matter 
 is not so serious as all this. Every one now is terrified. This dis- 
 turbance — the soldiery — the vast crowds that beset the streets, have 
 all produced so much excitement, that even a few words spoken at 
 random are enough to cause fear. It is one of Kate's fancies to 
 terrorise thus over weak minds. She has the cruel triumph of not 
 knowing what fear is. In a word, it is a mere trifling event, sure 
 to be forgotten in the midst of such scenes as we are passing 
 through." 
 
 This attempt at explanation, poured forth with rapid utterance, did 
 not produce on Lady Dorothea the conviction it was intended to 
 impose, and her Ladyship received the last adieux of the Duchess 
 with a cold and stately formality ; and then, as the door closed after 
 her, turned to Kate Henderson, and said : 
 
 " I want your explanation of all this. Let me have it." 
 " It is easily given, my Lady," said Kate, calmly. And then, in a 
 voice that never trembled nor varied, she narrated briefly the scene
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETIIS". 373 
 
 wliicli had just occurred, not extenuating in the slightest her own 
 share in the transaction, or offering a single syllable of excuse. 
 
 "And you, being who and what you are, dared thus to outrage the 
 best blood of Trance !" exclaimed Lady Dorothea, trembling all over 
 with passion. 
 
 " Perhaps, my Lady, if I sought for an apology, it would be in the 
 fact of being who and what I am." 
 
 " And do you imagine, that after conduct such as this — after ex- 
 posing me to a partnership in the shame that attaches to yourself, 
 that you axe any longer to enjoy the shelter of my roof?" 
 
 "It never occurred to me to think of that. Madam," said Kate, 
 with an ill-repressed scorn. 
 
 " Then it is for me to remind you of it," said her Ladyship, sternly. 
 " Tou shall, first of all, write me an humble apology for this vulgar 
 tirade — this outrage upon my company, and then you shall leave the 
 house. Sit down there, and write as I shall dictate to you." 
 
 Kate seated herself with an air of implicit obedience at a writing- 
 table, and took up a pen. 
 
 "Write," cried Lady Dorothea, sternly. "Begin, 'My Lady.' No, 
 ' I approach your Ladyship for the last time.' No, not that. ' If the 
 sincere sorrow in which I pen these lines.' No. Do it yourself. 
 You best can express the shame your heart should feel in such a 
 moment. Let the words be your own !" 
 
 Kate leaned over the paper and wrote rapidly for a few seconds. 
 Having finished, she read over the lines, and seemed to reflect ou 
 them. 
 
 " Show me tliat paper !" cried Lady Dorothea, impatiently. But, 
 without obeying the command, Kate said : 
 
 " Tour Ladyship will not be able to leave Paris for at least forty 
 hours. By that time the Monarchy will have run its course in 
 France. Tou will probably desire, however, to escape from the 
 scenes of turbulence sure to ensue. This will secure you a free 
 passage, Avhichevcr road you take." 
 
 " What raving is all this ?" said Lady Dorothea, snatching the 
 paper from her hand, and then reading aloud in Trench : 
 
 " ' Tlie authorities are required to aid and tender all assistance in 
 their power to Lady Dorothea Martin and all who accompany her, 
 neither giving nor suft'ering any opposition to be given to her or them 
 in the prosecution of their journey. 
 
 (Signed) " 'Jules Lagrange, 
 
 " ' Minister of Police, ad interim.^
 
 374 THE MArvTI>'3 OF CEO' MAETIK. 
 
 "And this iu your own. hand, too!" exclaimed Lady Dorothea, 
 contemptuously. 
 
 " Yes, Madam ; but it will entitle it to the seal of the Prefecture, 
 and entitle you to all that it professes." 
 
 " So that I have the honour to shelter within my walls a chief of 
 this insurrection — if it be worthy of svich a name — one in the confi- 
 dence of this stupid canaille, who fancy that the fall of a Monarchy 
 is like a row in a guinguette !" 
 
 " Your Ladyship is no longer in a position to question me or 
 arraign my actions. Before tw"o days are over, the pageant of a King 
 will have passed oif the stage, and men of a different stamp take the 
 direction of affairs. One of these will be he whose name I have 
 affixed to that paper — not without due warranty to do so. You 
 Ladyship may or may not choose to avail yourself of it." 
 
 " I spurn the imposition," said Lady Dorothea, tearing it in frag- 
 ments. "So poor a cheat coidd not deceive me. As for yourself " 
 
 " Oh, do not bestow a thouglit upon me, my Lady. I can sufiice 
 for my own guidance. I only wait for morning to leave this house." 
 
 " And it is to a city in such a state as this you would confide your- 
 self. Truly, Mademoiselle, Eepublicanism has a right to be proud of 
 you. You are no half-convert to its principles." 
 
 " Am I again to say, my Lady, that your control over me has 
 ceased?" 
 
 " It has not. It sliall not cease till I have restored you to the 
 humble roof from which I took you," said Lady Dorothea, passion- 
 ately. " Your father is our creature ; he has no other subsistence 
 than what we condescend to bestow on him. He shall know, when 
 you re-enter his doors, why, and for what cause, you are there. Tdl 
 that time come, you are, as you have been, in my service." 
 
 " No, my Lady, the tie between us is snapped. Dependence is 
 but a sad part at the best ; but so long as it is coupled wdth a cer- 
 tain show of respect, it is bearable. Destroy that, and it is mere 
 slavery, abject and degrading. I cannot go back to your Ladyship's 
 service." And she gave to the last word an emphasis of intense 
 scorn. 
 
 " You must, and you shall," said Lady Dorothea. " If you are 
 forgetful of what it is your duty to remember, I am not. Here you 
 shall remain; without," added she, in an accent of supreme con- 
 tempt, " your counsel and direction shall be sought after by the high 
 and mighty individuals who are so soon to administer the affairs of 
 this nation." 
 
 The loud roll of a drum, followed by the louder clank of sabres
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 375 
 
 and musketry, here startled the speakers, and Kate, hastening to 
 the window, opened it, and stepped out upon the balcony. Day was 
 just dawning ; a grey half-light covered the sky, but the dark 
 shadows of the tall houses still stretched over the Place. Here, 
 now, the troops were all in motion, a sudden summons having roused 
 them to form in rank. The hasty character of the movement showed 
 that some emergency was imminent ; a fact confirmed by the fre- 
 quent arrival and departure of orderlies at full speed. 
 
 After a brief interval of preparation the infantry formed in 
 column, and, followed bj^ the artillery and cavalry, moved out of the 
 Place at a quick step. The measured tramp of the foot soldiers, the 
 clattering noise of the train and the Dragoons, could be heard long 
 itfter they had passed out of sight ; and Kate stood listening eagerly 
 as to what would come next, when suddenly a man in plain clothes 
 rode hastily from one of the side-streets into the centre of the Place. 
 He looked around him for a moment or two, and then disappeared. 
 Within a few seconds after, a dull, indistinct sound seemed to rise 
 from the ground, which swelled gradually louder and louder, and at 
 last grew into the regiJar footfall of a great multitude moving in 
 measured time, and now, a vast crowd poured into the Place — silent 
 and wordless. On they came from the various quarters that opened 
 into the square — men, for the most part clad in blouses, or in the 
 coarse garb of labourers. They were armed either with musket or 
 sword, and in many instances wore the cross-belt of the soldier. 
 They proceeded at once to barricade the square at its opening into 
 tlie Kue de la Paix — a work which they accomplished with astonish- 
 ing speed and regularity, for, while Kate still looked, a formidable 
 rampart was thrown up across the entire street, along which a line 
 of armed men was stationed, every one of whom, by his attitude 
 and gesture, betrayed the old discipline of a soldier's life. Orders 
 were given and obeyed, movements made, and dispositions efi'ected, 
 with all the regularity and precision of regular troops ; and, by the 
 ready obedience of all, and the steady attitude observed, it was easy 
 to see that these men were trained to arms and to habits of disci- 
 pline. Is ot less evident was it that they who commanded them were 
 not new to such duties. But, more important than all such signs, 
 was the fact, that here and there through the mass might be seen 
 tlie uniform of a soldier, or the epaulette of an ofEcer, skewing that 
 desertion to the ranks of the people had already begun. 
 
 Kate was so occupied in attentive observation of the scene, that 
 she had not noticed the arrival of another pers9U in the apartment, 
 and whose voice now suddenly attracted her. It was Martin himself,
 
 376 THE MAHTINS OF CUO' MABTIN. 
 
 hastily aro\ised from his hed by his servant, who in great alarm told 
 him that the capital was in open revolt, the King's troops beaten 
 baclf , and the people victorious everywhere. " There's not a moment 
 to lose," cried lie ; " we must escape while we can. The road to 
 Versailles is yet in possession of the troops, and we can take tliat 
 way." 
 
 Lady Dorothea, partly overcome by the late scene, partly stunned 
 by the repeated shocks she experienced, made no reply whatever, and 
 Martin, judging fi'om the expression of her features the anxiety she 
 was suffering, hastily added, " Let me see Kate Henderson — where 
 is she?" 
 
 Lady Dorothea merely pointed towards the balcony, but did not 
 utter a word. 
 
 " Oh, have I found you," said Martin, stepping out upon the bal- 
 cony. " You see what is doing — I might say, what is done," added 
 he, " for I believe the game is well-nigh decided. Nothing but an 
 overwhelming force wiU now crush this populace. "We must get 
 away, and at once. "Will you give the orders ? Send for post-horses 
 — tell them to pack up whatever they can — direct everything, in fact. 
 My Lady is too ill — too much overcome to act, or think of anything. 
 Our whole reliance is upon you." While he was yet uttering these 
 broken, disjointed sentences, he had drawn Kate by the arm within 
 the room, and now stood beside Lady Dorothea's chair. Her Lady- 
 ship raised her head and fixed her eyes upon Kate, who sustained the 
 gaze calmly and steadily, nor by the slightest movement displayed 
 one touch of any emotion. The glance, at first haughty and defiant, 
 seemed at length to grow weaker under the unmoved stare of the 
 young girl, and finally she bent down her head and sat as though 
 overcome. 
 
 " Come, Dora," said ]Martin, kindly, " rouse yourself; you are always 
 equal to an effort when necessity presses. Tell Kate here what you 
 wish, and she'll do it." 
 
 " I want no aid — no assistance. Sir. Miss Henderson is her own 
 mistress — she may do what, or go where, she pleases." 
 
 Martin made a sign to Kate not to mind what he believed to be 
 the mere wandering of an overexcited brain, and then bending dovra 
 over the chair, said, " Dear Dora, we must be active and stirring ; the 
 people will soon be masters of the capital — for a while, at least — and 
 there is no saying what excesses they will commit." 
 
 "Do not offend Miss Henderson, Sir," interposed Lady Dorothea; 
 " she has equal confidence in their valour and their virtue."
 
 THE MAETIKS OF CKO' MAUTIN. 377 
 
 2" 
 
 "What does tliis mean? — when did she fall into this stater' 
 asked he, eagerly. And although only spoken in a whisper, Lady 
 Dorothea overheard them, and said : 
 
 " Let lier tell you. She can give you the very fullest explanation." 
 
 " But, Dora, this is no time for trifling ; we are here, in the midst 
 of an enraged populace and a maddened soldiery. There, listen ! — 
 that was artillery ; and now, hear ! — the bells of the churches are 
 sounding the alarm." 
 
 "They are ringing the knell of the Monarchy!" said Kate, so- 
 lemnly. 
 
 A hoarse wild shont — a cry like that of enraged wild beasts, arose 
 from the Place beneath, and all rushed to the window to see what 
 had occurred. It was a charge of heavy cavalry endeavouring to 
 force the barricade, and now, vigorously repulsed by the defenders, 
 men and horses were rolling on the ground in terrible confusion, 
 while on the barricade itself a hand-to-hand conflict was raging. 
 
 " Sharp work, by George i" said a voice behind Kate's shoulder. 
 She turned and saw Captain Martin, who had just joined them 
 unobserved. 
 
 " I thought you many a mile away," said Kate, in a whisper. 
 
 " So I should have been," replied he, in the same tone, "but I 
 wasn't going to lose this. I knew it was to come oft' to-day, and I 
 thought it would have been a thousand pities to be absent." 
 
 " And are your wishes, then, with these gallant fellows ?" said she, 
 eagerly. " Do I hear you aright, that it was to aid them you re- 
 mained ? There ! see how they bear down on the soldiery ; they will 
 not be restrained ; they are crossing the barricade, and charging 
 with the bayonet. It is only for Liberty that men can fight thus. 
 Oh that I were a man, to be amongst them !" 
 
 A stray shot from beneath here struck the architrave above their 
 heads, and sent down a mass of plaster over them. 
 
 " Come, Dora, this is needless peril," said Martin, drawing her 
 within the room. " If you will not leave this, at least do not expose 
 yourself unnecessarily." 
 
 " But it is exactly to get away — to escape while there is time — that 
 I came for," said the Captain. " Tliey all tell me that the mob are 
 getting the best of it, and, worse again, that the troops are joining 
 them ; so, to make sure, I've sent off i'enton to the post for liorses, 
 and I'm expecting him every moment. But here he is. "Well, have 
 you got the horses ?" 
 
 " No, Sir ; the horses have all been taken by the people to mount
 
 378 THE MABTIIfS 01" CRO' MAETIIT. 
 
 orderlies ; the postmaster, too, has fled, and everything is in con- 
 fusion. But if we had horses the streets are impassable ; from here 
 to the Boulevard there are no less than five barricades." 
 
 "Then what is to be done?" cried Martin. 
 
 " They say, Sir," replied Tenton, " that by gaining the outer Boule- 
 vard on foot, carriages and horses are easily found there, to reach 
 Belleville, St. Germain, or Versailles." 
 
 " He is right," said the Captain ; " there is nothing else to be 
 done. "What do yow think ?" said he, addressing Kate, who stood 
 intently watching the movements in the " Place" beneath, 
 
 "Tes; do you agree with this plan?" asked Martin, approaching 
 her. 
 
 "Look!" cried she, eagerly, and not heeding the question, "the 
 troops are rapidly joining the people — they come in numbers now — 
 and yonder is an officer in his uniform." 
 
 " Shame on him !" exclaimed Lady Dorothea, indignantly. 
 
 " So say I, too," said Kate. "He who wears a livery should not 
 assume the port and bearing of a free man. This struggle is for 
 Liberty, and should only be maintained by the Free!" 
 
 " How are we to pass these barricades ?" cried Martin, anxiously. 
 
 " I'll be your guide, Sir, if that be all," said Kate. " You may trust 
 me. I promise no more than I can perform." 
 
 " She speaks truly," said Lady Dorothea. " Alas that we should 
 see the day when we cannot reject the aid !" 
 
 " There is a matter I want to speak to you about," said Martin, 
 drawing his father aside, and speaking in a low, confidential tone. 
 "Massingbred — Jack Massingbred — is now here, in my room. I 
 know all about my mother's dislike to him, and he knows it; indeed, 
 he has as much as owned to me that he deserved it all. But what is 
 to be done ? We cannot leave him here," 
 
 " How came he to be here ?" asked Martin. 
 
 " He accompanied me from the Club, where, in an altercation of 
 some sort, he had just involved himself in a serious quarrel. He came 
 here to be ready to start this morning for Versailles, where the meet- 
 ing was to take place ; but indeed he had no thought of accepting 
 shelter under our roof ; and when he found where he was, it was with 
 the greatest difficulty I could persuade him to enter. None of us anti- 
 cipated such a serious turn of affairs as this ; and now, of course, 
 a meeting will be scarcely possible. What are we to do with 
 him?" 
 
 " Ask him frankly to join us if we obtain the horses." 
 
 " But my mother ?"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 379 
 
 " I'll speak to her — but it were better you did it, Harry. These 
 are not times to weigh scruples and balance difficulties. I don't my- 
 self think that Massingbred treated us fairly, but it is not now I'd 
 like to remember it. There, go ; tell her what you have told me, and 
 all will be well." 
 
 The Captain drew nigh Lady Dorothea, and, leaning over her chair, 
 whispered to her for some minutes. At first, a slight gesture of im- 
 patience burst from her, but afterwards she seemed to hear him 
 calmly and tranquilly. 
 
 '•' It would seem as though the humiliations of this night are never 
 to have an end," said she, with a sigh. " But I'll bear my share of 
 them." 
 
 " Eemember," said the other, "that it was by no choice of Ms he 
 came here. His foot was on the threshold before he suspected it." 
 
 " Miss Henderson sent me, my Lady," said a servant, entering 
 hastily, " to say that there is not a minute to be lost. They are ex- 
 pecting an attack on the barricade in the Kue de la Paix, and we 
 ought to pass through at once." 
 
 " By whose orders ?" began she, haughtily ; then, checking herself 
 suddenly, and in a voice weak and broken, added, " I am ready. Give 
 me your arm, Harry, and do not leave me. "Where is Mr. Martin ?" 
 asked she. 
 
 " He is waiting for your Ladyship at the foot of the stairs with 
 another gentleman," said the servant. 
 
 " That must be Massingbred, for I told them to caU him," said the 
 Captain. 
 
 "When Lady Dorothea, supported by the arm of her son, had 
 reached the gate, she found Martin and Massingbred standing to 
 receive them, surrounded by a numerous escort of servants, each 
 loaded with some portion of the family baggage. 
 
 " A hasty summons, Sir," said she, addressing Massingbred, and 
 thus abruptly avoiding the awkwardness of a more ceremonious 
 meeting. " A few hours back none of us anticipated anything like 
 this. "Will it end seriously, think you ?" 
 
 " There is every prospect of such. Madam," said he, bowing respect- 
 fully to her salutation. " Every moment brings fresh tidings of de- 
 fection among the troops, while the Marshal is paralysed by contra- 
 dictory orders." 
 
 " Is it alwavs to be the fate of Monarchy to be badlv sen'cd iu 
 times of peril?" said she, bitterly. 
 
 " It is very difficult to awaken loyalty against one's convictions of 
 right, Madam. I mean," added he, as a gesture of impatience broke
 
 380 THE MARTINS OP CBO' MAETIN. 
 
 from her, " that these acts of the King, having no support from his 
 real friends, are weak stimulants to evoke deeds of daring and 
 courage." 
 
 " They are unworthy supporters of a Crown who only defend what 
 they approve of. This is but Democracy at best, and smacks of the 
 policy which has little to lose and everything to gain by times of 
 trouble." 
 
 " And yet, Madam, such cannot be the case here ; at least, it is 
 assuredly not so in the instance of him who is now speaking with 
 Miss Henderson." And he pointed to a man who, holding the bridle 
 of his horse on his arm, walked slowly at Kate's side in the street 
 before the door. 
 
 "And who is he?" asked she, eagerly. 
 
 " The greatest banker in Paris, Madam — one of the richest capi- 
 talists of Europe — ready to resign all his fortune in the struggle 
 against a rule which he foresees intended to bring back the days of 
 a worn-out, effete Monarchy, rather than a system which shall invi- 
 gorate the nation, and enrich it by the arts of commerce and trade." 
 
 " But his name — who is he ?" asked she, more impatiently. 
 
 " Charles Lagrange, Madam." 
 
 " I have heard the name before. I have seen it somewhere lately," 
 said she, trying to remember where and how. 
 
 " Tou could scarcely have paid your respects at Neuilly, Madam, 
 without meeting him. He was, besides, the favoured guest at Madame 
 de Mirecourt's." 
 
 " Tou would not imply, Sir, that the Duchess condescended to any 
 sympathy with this party ?" 
 
 " More than half the Court, Madam, are against the Crown ; I will 
 not say, however, that they are, on that account, for the people." 
 
 " There ! she is making a sign to us to follow her," said Martin, 
 pointing towards Kate, who, still conversing with her companion, 
 motioned to the others to come up. 
 
 " It is from that quarter we receive our orders," said Lady Doro- 
 thea, sneeringly, as she prepared to follow. 
 
 " What has she to do with it ?" exclaimed the Captain. " To look 
 at her, one would say she was deep in the whole business." 
 
 A second gesture, more urgent than before, now summoned the 
 party to make haste. 
 
 Through the " Place," crowded as it was by an armed and excited 
 multitude, way was rapidly made for the little party who now issued 
 from the door of the hotel. Kate Henderson walked in front, with 
 Massingbred at her side, talking eagerly, and by his gestures seem-
 
 THE MABTINS OF CRO' MAUTIN. 381 
 
 ing as thougli endeavouring to extenuate or explain away something 
 in his conduct ; next, came Lady Dorothea, supported between her 
 husband and her son, and while walking slowly, and wdth faltering 
 steps, still carrying her head proudly erect, and gazing on the stern 
 faces around her with looks of haughty contempt. After them were 
 a numerous retinue of servants, with such eflccts as they had hurriedly 
 got together — a terror-struck set, scarcely able to crawl along from 
 fear. 
 
 As they drew nigh the barricade, some men proceeded to remove a 
 heavy waggon which adjoined a house, and by the speed and activity 
 of their movements, urged on as they were by the orders of one in 
 command, it might be seen that the operation demanded promptitude. 
 
 " "We are scarcely safe in this," cried the officer. " See ! they are 
 making signs to us from the windows — the troops are coming. If 
 you pass out now, you will be between two fires." 
 
 " There is yet time," said Kate, eagerly. " Our presence in the 
 street, too, will delay them, and give you some minutes to prepare. 
 And as for ourselves, we shall gain one of the side-streets easily 
 enough." 
 
 " Tie your handkerchief to your cane, Sir," said the officer to 
 Massingbred. 
 
 '•' My flag is ready," said Jack, gaily ; " I only hope they may 
 respect it." 
 
 " Now — now !" cried Kate with eagerness, and beckoning to Lady 
 Dorothea to hasten, "the passage is free, and not a second to be 
 lost !" 
 
 " Are you not coming with us ?" whispered Martin to her, as they 
 passed out. 
 
 "Tes; I'll follow. But," added she, in a lower tone, "were the 
 choice given me, it is here I'd take my stand." 
 
 She looked full at Massingbred as she spoke, and, bending down 
 his head, he said, " Had it been your place, it were mine also !" 
 
 " Quick — quick, my Lady," said Kate. " They must close up the 
 passage at once. They are expecting an attack." And so saying, she 
 motioned rapidly to Martin to move on. 
 
 " The woman is a fiend," said Lady Dorothea ; " see how her eyes 
 sparkle, and mark the wild exultation of her features." 
 
 "Adieu, Sir — adieu!" said Kate, waving her hand to one wlio 
 seemed the chief of the party. " All my wishes are with you. "Were 
 I a man, my liand should guarantee my heart." 
 
 " Come — come back !" cried the officer. " You are too late. There 
 comes the head of the column."
 
 382 THE MAETINS OF CRo' MAETIN. 
 
 " No, never — uever !" exclaimed Lady Dorothea, hauglitily ; " pro- 
 tection from such as these is worse than any death." 
 
 " Give me the flag, then," cried Kate, snatching it from Massing- 
 bred's hand, and hastening on before the others. And now the heavy 
 Avaggou had fallen back to its place, and a serried file of muskets 
 peeped over it, 
 
 " AVhere's Massingbred ?" asked the Captain, eagerly. 
 
 " Yonder — where he ought to be !" exclaimed Kate, proudly, point- 
 ing to the barricade, upon which, now, Jack was standing conspicu- 
 ously, a musket on his arm. 
 
 The troops in front were not the head of a column, but the ad- 
 A^anced guard of a force evidently at some distance off, and instead of 
 advancing on the barricade, they drew up and halted in triple file 
 across the street. Their attitude of silent, stem defiance — ^for it was 
 such — evoked a wild burst of popular fury, and epithets of abuse and 
 insidt were heaped upon them from windows and parapets. 
 
 " They are the famous Twenty-Second of the Line," said the Captain, 
 "who forced the Pont-Xeuf yesterday, and drove the mob beibre 
 them." 
 
 "It is fortunate for us that we fall into such hands," said Lady 
 Dorothea, waving her handkerchief as she advanced. But Kate liad 
 already approached the line, and now halted at a command from 
 the officer. While she endeavoured to explain liow and why tliey 
 were there, the cries and menaces of the populace grew louder 
 and wilder. The ofiicer, a very young subaltern, seemed confused and 
 flurried ; his eyes turned constantly towards the street from which 
 tbey had advanced, and he seemed anxiously expecting the arrival of 
 the regiment. 
 
 " I cannot give you a convoy, Mademoiselle," he said ; " I scarcely 
 know if I have the right to let you pass. We may be attacked at any 
 moment ; for aught I can tell, you may be in the interests of the in- 
 surgents " 
 
 "A\^e are cut oft', Lieutenant," cried a Sergeant, running up at the 
 moment ; " they have thrown up a barrier behind us, and it is armed 
 already." 
 
 " Lay down your arms, then," said Kate, " and do not sacrifice your 
 brave feUows in a hopeless struggle." 
 
 " Listen not to Tier, young man, but give heed to your honour and 
 your loyalty," cried Lady Dorothea. " Is it against such an enemy 
 as this French soldiers fear to advance ?" 
 
 " Forward !" cried the ofiicer, waving his sword above his head.
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 383 
 
 " Let US cany the barricade !" And a wild yell of defiance from tlie 
 windows repeated the speech in derision. 
 
 " Ton are going to certain death !" cried Kate, throwing herself 
 before him. " Let me make terms for you, and they shall not bring 
 dishonour on you." 
 
 "Hero comes the regiment!" called out the Sergeant. "They 
 have forced the barricade." And the quick tramp of a column, as 
 they came at a run, now shook the street. 
 
 " Eemember your cause and your King, Sir," cried Lady Dorothea 
 to the officer. 
 
 " Bethink you of your country — of France — and of Liberty !" said 
 Kate, as she grasped his arm. 
 
 " Stand back! — back to the houses !" said he, waving his sword. 
 " Voltigeurs, to the front !" 
 
 The command was scarcely issued, when a hail of balls rattled 
 through the air. The defenders of the barricade had opened their 
 fire, and with a deadly precision, too, for several fell at the very first 
 discharge. 
 
 " Back to the houses !" exclaimed Martin, dragging Lady Doro- 
 thea along, who, in her eagerness, now forgot all personal danger, 
 and only thought of the contest before her. 
 
 " Get under cover of the troops — to the rear!" cried the Captain, 
 as he endeavoured to bear her away. 
 
 " Back — back — beneath the archway !" cried Kate, as, throwing her 
 arms around Lady Dorothea, she lifted her fairly from the ground, 
 and carried her within the deep recess of a porte cochere. Scarcely, 
 however, had she deposited her in safety, than she fell tottering 
 backwards, and sank to the ground. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! she is struck," exclaimed Martin, bending over 
 her. 
 
 "It is nothing — a spent shot, and no more," said Kate, as she 
 showed tho bullet, which had perforated her dress beneath the 
 arm. 
 
 " A good soldier, by Jove !" said the Captain, gazing with real 
 admiration on the beautiful features before him, tho faint smile slie 
 wore heightening their loveliness, and contrasting happily with their 
 pallor. 
 
 " There they go — they are up the barricade already — they are 
 over it — through it !" cried the Captain. " Gallantly done ! — glori- 
 ously done ! No, by Jove ! they arc fixlling back — the fire is mur- 
 derous. See how they bayonet them ! The troops must win. They
 
 384 THE MAKTINS OF CEo' MAETIN. 
 
 move together — they are like a wall ! lu vain, in vain — they cannot 
 do it! They ai'c beaten — they are lost !" 
 
 " Who are lost ?" said Kate, in a balt-fuinting voice. 
 
 " Tiie soldiers. And there's Massingbred on the top of the 
 barricade, in the midst of it all. I see his hat. They are driven 
 back — beaten — beaten !" 
 
 " Come in, quickly," cried a voice from behind ; and a small portion 
 of the door was opened to admit them. " The soldiers are retiring, 
 and will kill all before them." 
 
 *' Let me aid you ; it is wy turn now," said Lady Dorothea, assist- 
 ing Kate to rise. " Good Heavens ! her arm is broken — it is smashed 
 in two." And slie caught the fainting girl in her arms. 
 
 G-athering around, they bore her within the gate, and had but 
 time to bar and bolt it, when the hurried tramp without, and the 
 wild yell of popular triumph, told that the soldiers were retreating, 
 beaten and defeated. 
 
 , . " And this to save me !" said Lady Dorothea, as she stooped over 
 her. And the scalding tears dropped one by one on Kate's cheek. 
 
 " Tear this handkerchief, and bind it around my arm," said Kate, 
 calmly ; " the pain is not very great, and there will be no bleeding, 
 the doctors say, from a gun-shot wound." 
 
 "I'll be the surgeon," said the Captain, addressing himself to the 
 task with more of skill than might be expected. " I've seen many a 
 fellow struck down who didn't bear it as calmly," muttered he, as 
 he bent over her. " Am I giving you any pain ?" 
 
 " JSTot in the least : and if I were in torture, that glorious cheer 
 outside would rally me. Hear! — listen! — the soldiers are in full 
 retreat — the people, the noble-hearted people, are the conquerors !" 
 
 '' Be calm, and think of yourself," said Lady Dorothea mildly to 
 her; ■' such excitement may peril your very life." 
 
 " And it is worth a thousand lives to taste of it," said she, while 
 her cheek flushed, and her dark eyes gleamed with added lustre. 
 , H " The street is clear now," said one of the servants to Martin, " and 
 we might reach the Boulevard with ease." 
 
 " Let us go, then," said Lady Dorothea. " Let us look to 7ier, 
 and think of nothing tiU she be cared for."
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN'. 385 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYIII. 
 
 SOME CONFESSIONS OF JACK MASSINGBEED. 
 
 Upon two several occasions have we committed to Jack Massinc- 
 bred the task of conducting this truthful history — for the third time 
 do we now purpose to make his correspondence the link between the 
 past and what is to follow. "We are not quite sure that the covirse 
 we thus adopt is free from its share of inconvenience, but we take 
 it to avoid the evils of reiteration inseparable from following out 
 the same events from merely different points of view. There is also 
 another advantage to be gained. Jack is before our readers, we are 
 not; Jack is an acquaintance, toe cannot aspire to that honour; 
 Jack's opinions, right or wrong as they may be, are part and parcel 
 of a character already awaiting their verdict. What he thought and 
 felt, hoped, feared, or wished, are the materials by which he is to be 
 judged; and so we leave his cause in his own hands. 
 
 His letter is addressed to the same correspondent to whom he 
 wrote before. It is written, too, at different intervals, and in different 
 moods of mind. Like the letters of many men who practise conceal- 
 ment with the world at large, it is remarkable for great frankness 
 and sincei'ity. He throAvs away his mask with such evident signs of en- 
 joyment, that we only wonder if he can ever resume it ; but crafty men 
 like to relax into candour, as Eoyalty is said to indulge with pleasure 
 in the chance moments of pretended equality. It is, at aU events, a 
 novel sensation, and even that much, in this routine life of ours, is 
 something ! 
 
 He writes from Spa, and after some replies to matters with which 
 we have no concern, proceeds thus : 
 
 " Of the Eevolutiou then, and the Three Glorious Days as they 
 are called, I can tell you next to nothing, and for this simple reason, 
 that I was there fighting, shouting, throwing up barricades, singing 
 the Marseillaise, smashing furniture, and shooting my ' Swiss,' like 
 the rest. As to who beat the troops, forced the Tuileries, and drove 
 Marmont back, you must consult the newspapers. Personal adven- 
 tures I could give you to satiety, hair-breadth 'scapes and acts of 
 heroism by the dozen ; but these narratives are never new, and always 
 tiresome. The serious reflectiveness sounds like humbus:, and, if one 
 treats them lightly, the flippancy is an offence. Jocidar heroism is 
 ever an insult to the reader. 
 
 2 c
 
 386 THE MAETINS 01? CEO' MAETHiT. 
 
 " Tou say ' Que diable allait-il faire dans cette galore ?' and I 
 answer, it was all her doing. Yes, Harry, she was there. I was think- 
 ino- of nothing less in the world than a great ' blow for freedom,' as 
 the Glole has it. I had troubled my head wonderfully little about 
 the Avholc aifair. Any little interest I took was in the notion that if 
 our ' natural enemies,' the French, were to fall to and kill each other, 
 there would be so much the fewer left to fight against us ; but as to 
 who was to get the upper hand, or what they were to do when they 
 had it, I gave myself no imaginable concern. I had a vague, shadowy 
 kind of impression that the government was a bad one, but I had a 
 much stronger conviction that the people deserved no better. My 
 leanings — my instincts, if you prefer it — were with tlie Crown. The 
 mob and its sentiments are always repulsive. Popular enthusiasm is 
 a great ocean, but it is an ocean of dirty water, and you cannot come 
 out clean from the contact ; and so, I should have wished well to 
 Eoyalty, but for an accident — a mere trifle in its way — but one quite 
 sufficient, even on historic grounds, to account for a man's change of 
 opinions. The troops shot my cab-horse, sent a buUet through poor 
 ' Beverley,' and seriously damaged a new hat which I wore at the 
 time, accompanying these acts with expressions the reverse of com- 
 pliment or civility. I was pitched out into the gutter, and, most ap- 
 propriately you will say, I got up a Eadical, a Democrat, a Fourierist — 
 anything, in short, that shouts ' Down with Kings, and up with the 
 Sovereign People !' 
 
 " My principles — don't smile at the word — led me into a stupid 
 altercation with a very pleasant acquaintance, and we parted to meet 
 the next morning%i hostility, at least, such was our understanding ; 
 but, by the time that our difference should have been settled, J was 
 carried away on a stretcher to the Hotel-Dieu, wounded, and he was 
 flung, a corpse, into the Seine. I intended to have been a most accu- 
 rate narrator of events, journalising for you, hour by hour, with aU 
 the stirring excitement of the present tense, but I cannot ; the crash 
 and the hubbub are stiU in my brain, and the infernal chaos of the 
 streets is yet over me. Not to speak of my wound — a very ugly 
 sabre-cut in the neck — severing I don't know what amount of nerves, 
 arteries, and such like ' small deer,' every one of which, however, has 
 its own peculiar perils in the shape of aneurisms, tetanus, and so forth, 
 in case I am not a miracle of patience, calmness, and composm*e. 
 
 " The Martins are nursing, and comforting, and chicken-brothing 
 me to my heart's content, and La Henderson, herself an invalid, 
 •with a terrible broken arm, comes and reads to me from time to time. 
 What a girl it is ! "Wounded in a street encounter, she actually carried
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 387 
 
 Lady Dorothea into a porte-cocliere, and when they had all lost their 
 heads in terror, could neither issue an order to the servants nor know 
 what way to turn, she took the guidance of the whole party, obtained 
 horses and carriages and an escort, escaped from Paris, and reached 
 Versailles in the midst of flying courtiers and dismayed ministers, 
 and actually was the very first to bring the tidings that the game of 
 Monarchy was up — that the King had nothing left for it but an in- 
 glorious flight. To the Duchesse de Mirecourt she made this com- 
 munication, which it seems none of the court-followers had courage 
 or honesty to do before. The Duchess, in her terror, actually 
 dragged her into the presence of the King, and made her reyeat 
 what she had said. The scene, as told me, was quite dramatic ; the 
 King took her hand to lead her to a seat, but it was unfortunately 
 of the wounded arm, and she fainted. The sight of the wounded 
 limb so aflfected the nerves of Monarchy, that he gave immediate 
 orders to depaii;, and was oif within an hour. 
 
 " How they found me out a patient in a ward of the Hotel-Dieu, 
 rescued and carried me away with tliem, I have heard full half a 
 dozen times, but I'm far from being clear enough to repeat the story ; 
 and, indeed, when I try to recall the period, the only images which, 
 rise up before me are long ranges of white coverlids, pale faces, and 
 groans and cries of sufiering, with the dark curly head of a great 
 master of torture peeping at me, and whom, T am told, is the Baron 
 Duptiytren, the Surgeon-in-Chief. After these comes a vision of 
 
 litters and charrettes — sore joltings and stoppages to drink water 
 
 But I shall rave if I go on. Better I should tell you of my pleasant 
 little bedroom here opening on a small garden, with a tiny fountain, 
 trying to sprinkle the wild myi-tle and blush-roses around it, and 
 sportively sending its little plash over me, as the wind wafts it into 
 my chamber. My luxurious chair and easy-cushioned sofa, and my 
 table littered Avith everything, from flowers to Frencb romances ; not 
 to speak of the small rustic seat beside the window, where slie has 
 been sitting the last hour, and has only quitted to give me time to 
 write this to you. I know it — I see it — all you can say, all that you 
 are saying at this moment, is fifty times more forcibly echoing 
 within my own heart, and repeating in fitful sentences : ' A ruined 
 man — a broken fortune — a mad attachment — a life of struggle, difii- 
 culty, and failure !' But why should it be failure ? Such a girl for a 
 wife ought in itself to be an earnest of success. Are not her quali- 
 ties exactly those that do battle with the difiiculties of fortune? 
 Self-denial — ambition — courage — an intense, an intuitive knowledge 
 
 2 c2
 
 388 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 of the world — and then, a purpose-like devotion to -whatever she un- 
 dertakes, that tlirows an air of heroism over all her actions. 
 
 " Birth — blood — family connexions — what have they done for me, 
 except it be to entail upon me the necessity of selecting a career 
 amidst tlie two or three that are supposed to suit the well-born ? I 
 may be a Life Guardsman, or an unpaid Attache, but I must not be 
 a Pliysician or a Merchant ! Nor is it alone that certain careers are 
 closed against us, but certain opinions too. I must not think ill of 
 the Governing class — I must never think well of the Governed. 
 
 " W^ell, Harry, the colonies are the remedy for all this. There, at 
 least, a man can fashion existence as arbitrarily as he can the shape 
 and size of his house. None shall dictate his etiquette, no more than 
 his architecture, and I am well weary of the slavery of this old-world 
 life, with our worship of old notions and old china, both, because 
 they are cracked, damaged, and useless. I'll marry her. I have 
 made up my mind on't. Spare me all your remonstrances — all your 
 mock compassion. Nor is it like a fellow who has not seen the world 
 in its best gala suit, affecting to despise rank, splendour, and high 
 station: I have seen the thing, I have cantered my thorough-bred 
 
 ..ralong Sotten-rovv, eaten my truffled dinners in Belgravia, whispered 
 my nonsense over the white shoulders of the fairest and best-born 
 of England's daughters. I know to a decimal fraction the value of all 
 these, and, what's more, I know what one pays for them. The mi- 
 serable vassalage, the poor slavery of mind, soul, and body they 
 cost ! 
 
 " It is the terror of exclusion here, the dread of coldness there — 
 the possibility of offence to ' his Grace,' on this side, or misconcep- 
 tion by ' her Ladyship,' on that — sway and rule a man so that he may 
 neither eat, di'ink, nor sleep, without a ' Court Guide' in his pocket. 
 I've done with it ! now and for ever — I tell you frankly — I return no 
 
 e more to this bondage. 
 • j " I have written a farewell address to my worthy constituents of 
 Oughterard. I have told them, that, 'feeling an instinct of inde- 
 pendence within me, I can no longer remain their representative. 
 That, as a man of honour, I shrink from the jobbery of the little 
 borough politicians, and, as a gentleman, I beg to decline their inti- 
 macy.' They took me for want of a better — I leave them for the 
 same reason. 
 
 " To my father I have said, ' Let us make a compromise. As your 
 son I have a claim on the House. Now what will you give for my 
 share? I'll neither importune you for place, nor embarrass you 
 
 f with solicitations for employment. Help me to stock my knapsack,
 
 THE MAETIXS OP CEO' MAETII?". 389 
 
 iin-rurr '.'in-rr Qrf+ "^-^ 
 
 and I'll find my road myself.' She lmo\rs nothing of these steps on 
 my part — nor shall slie, till they have become irrevocable. She is 
 too proud ever to consent to what would cost me thus heavily ; but 
 the expense once incmred — the outlay made — she cannot object to 
 •what has become the law of mv future life. 
 
 " I send off these two documents to-night ; this done, I shall write to 
 her an oifer of marriasre. AYliat a fever I'm in ! and all because I feel 
 the necessity of defending myself to i/oti, — to you of all men the most 
 headstrong, reckless, and self-induTgent — a fellow who never curbed a 
 caprice nor restrained a passing fancy ; and yet you are just the man 
 to light your cigar, and while you puff away your blue cloud, mutter 
 on about rashness, folly, insanity, and the rest of it, as if the state 
 of your bank account should make that wisdom in i/ou, which with 
 me is but mere madness ! But I tell you, Harry, it is your very 
 thousands per annum that preclude you from doing what I can. 
 It is your house in town, your stud at Tattersall's, your yacht at 
 Cowes, your grouse-lodge in the Higlilands, that tie and fetter you 
 to live like some scores of others, with whom you haven't one solitary 
 sympathy, save in income ! You are bound up in all the recog- 
 nizances of your wealth, to dine stupidly, sup languidly, and sink 
 down at last into a marriage of convenience — to make a wife of her 
 whom * her Grace ' has chosen for you, without a single speculation in 
 the contract save the thought of the Earl you will be allied to, and 
 the four noble families you'll have the right to go in mourning for. 
 
 " And what worse than cant it is to talk of what they call an in- 
 discreet match ! "What does — Avhat can the Avorld know as to the 
 reasons that impel you, or me, or anybody else, to form a certain 
 attachment ? Are they acquainted with our secret and most hidden 
 emotions ? Do they understand the project of life we have planned to 
 ourselves ? Have they read our utter weariness and contempt for 
 forms that tJiei/ venerate, and social distinctions that tJiei/ worship ? 
 I am aware that in some cases it requires courage to do this ; and in 
 doing it a man virtually throws down the glove to the whole world, 
 and says, ' This woman's love is to mo more than all of you' — and 
 so say I at this moment. I must cry halt, I see, Harry. I have set 
 these nerves at work in m}' wound, and the pain is agony. To- 
 morrow — to-night, if I'm able — I shall continue. 
 
 " Jlidnight. 
 " They have just wished me good night, after having spent the 
 evening here reading out the newspapers for me, commenting upon 
 them, and exerting themselves to amuse me in a hundred good-
 
 390 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 natured ways. Tou would like this same stately old Lady Doro- 
 thea. She is really ' Grande Dame' in every respect — dress, air, 
 carriage, gesture, even her slow and measured speech is imposing, 
 and her prejudices, uttered as they are in such perfect sincerity of 
 heart, have something touching about them, and her sorrowful pity 
 for the mob sounded more gracefully than Kate's enthusiastic esti- 
 mate of their higli descrvings. It does go terribly against the grain 
 to fancy an alliance between coarse natures and noble sentiments, 
 and to believe in the native nobility of those who never touch soap ! 
 I have had a kind of skirmish with La Henderson upon this theme 
 to-night. She was cross and out of temper, and bore my bantering 
 badly. The fact is, she is utterly disgusted at the turn things have 
 taken in France, and not altogether without reason, since, after aU 
 their bluster, and bloodshed, and barricades, they have gone back to 
 a monarchy again. They barred out the master to make ' the head 
 usher,' top of the school. Let us see if he won't be as fond of the 
 birch as his predecessor. Like all mutineers, they found they 
 couldn't steer the ship when they had murdered the captain ! How 
 hopeless it makes one of humanity to see such a spectacle as this, 
 Harry, and how low is one's estimate of the species after such ex- 
 perience ! Tou meet some half-dozen semi-bald, spectacled old gen- 
 tlemen in society, somewhat more reserved than the rest of the 
 company, fond of talking to each other, and rather distrustful of 
 strangers ; you find them slow conversers at dinner, — sorry whist- 
 players in the drawing-room ; you are told, however, that one is a 
 President of the Council, another the Secretary for Foreign Afiairs, 
 and a third something equally important. You venerate them ac- 
 cordingly, while you mutter the old Swede's apothegm about the 
 * small intelligences' that rule mankind. Wait a while ! There is a 
 row iu the streets : a pickpocket has appealed to the public to rescue 
 him from the ignoble hands of the police — an escaped felon has fired 
 at the judge who sentenced him, in the name of Liberty and Fra- 
 ternity. No matter what the cause, there is a row. The troops are 
 called out; some are beaten, some join the insurgents. The Govern- 
 ment grows frightened — temporises — oflers terms — and sends for more 
 soldiers. The people — I never cleai'ly knew what the word meant — 
 the people, make extravagant demands, and will not even give time 
 to have them granted — in a word, the whole state is subverted, the 
 King, if there be one, in flight, the royal family missing, the minis- 
 ters nowhere ! No great loss you'll say, if the four or five smooth- 
 faced imbecilities we have spoken of arc not to the fore ! But there 
 is your error, Harry — your great error. These men, used to conduct
 
 THE MAETINS OE CEO' MAKTIN". 391 
 
 and carry on the Government, cannot be replaced. The new capacities 
 do nothing but blunder, and maybe issue contradictory orders and 
 impede each other's actions. To improvise a Secretary of State is 
 about as wise a proceeding as to take at hazard a third-class pas- 
 senger and set him to guide tlie engine of the train. The only dif- 
 ference is that the machinery of state is ten thousand times more 
 complex than that of a steam-engine, and the powers for mischief 
 and misfortune in due proportion. 
 
 " But why talk of these things ? I have had enough and too much 
 of them already, this evening ; women, too, are unpleasant disputants 
 in politics. They attach their foith to persons, not parties. Miss 
 Henderson is, besides, a little spoiled by the notice of those maxim- 
 mongers who write leaders in the Dehats, and articles for the Deux 
 Mondes. They have, or affect to have, a kind of pitying estimate for 
 our English constitutional forms, which is rather offensive. At least, 
 she provoked me, and I am relapsing into bad temper, just by think- 
 ing of it. 
 
 " Tou tell me that you once served with Captain Martin, and I 
 see you understand him ; not that it requires much study to do so. 
 Tou say, he was reckoned a good ofB.cer ; what a sneer is that on 
 the art military ! 
 
 " Tliere are, however, many suitable qualities about him, and he cer- 
 tainly possesses the true and distinctive element of a gentleman — he 
 knows liow to be idle. Ay, Harry, that is a privilege that your re- 
 tired banker or enriched cotton-spinner never attains to. They must 
 be up and doing — where there is nothing to do. They carry the 
 spirit of the counting-house and the loom into society with them, 
 and liaving found a pleasure in business, they want to make a busi- 
 ness of pleasure. Now, Martin understands idling to perfection. 
 His tea and toast, his mutton cutlet, and his mustachios are abundant 
 occupation for him. With luncheon about two o'clock, he saunters 
 through the stables, sucking a lighted cigar, filing his nails, and admir- 
 ing his boots, till it's time to ride out. He comes to me about nine of 
 an evening, and we play piquet till I get sleepy ; after which he goes 
 to ' the rooms,' and, I believe, plays high ; at least, I suspect so ; for 
 he has, at times, the forced calm — that semi-jocular resignation — one 
 sees in a heavy loser. He has been occasionally, too, probing me 
 about Merl — you remember the fellow who had the rooms near 
 Knightsbridge — so that I opine he has been dabbling in loans. 
 What a sorry spectacle sucli a creature as this in tlie toils of tlie 
 Israelite, for he is the ' softest of the soft.' I see it from the effect 
 La Henderson has produced upon him. He is in love with her —
 
 392 THE ilAETINS OF CEo' MAETIN. 
 
 actually in love. He even wanted to make me his confidant — and I 
 narrowly escaped the confession — only yesterday evening. Of course, 
 he has no suspicion of my attachment in the same quarter, so that it 
 would be downright treachery in me to listen to his avowal. Another 
 feeling, too, sways me, Harry — I don't think I could hear a man 
 profess admiration for the woman that I mean to marry, without 
 the self-same sense of resentment I should experience were I already 
 her husband. I'm certain I'd shoot him for it. 
 .^ '" La belle Kate and I parted coldly — drily, I should call it — this 
 evening. I had fancied she was above coquetry, but she is not. Is 
 any woman ? Slie certainly gave the Captain what the world would 
 call encouragement all the night ; listened attentively to tiresome 
 tiger huntings and stories of the new country ; questioned him about 
 his Mahratta campaigns, and even hinted at how much she would 
 like an Indian life. Perhaps the torment she was inflicting on Lady 
 Dorothea amused her, perhaps it was the irritation she witnessed in 
 me, gave the zest to this pastime. It is seldom that she conde- 
 scends to be either amused or amusing; and I own it is a part 
 does not sviit her. She is a thousand times more attractive sitting 
 over her embroidery-frame, raising her head at times to say a few 
 words — ever apposite and well chosen — always simple, too, and to 
 the purpose; or even by a slight gesture bearing agreement with 
 what is said around her ; till, with a sudden impulse, she pours forth 
 fast, rapidly, and fluently some glowing sentiment of praise or 
 censure, some glorious eulogy of the good, or some withering depre-h 
 elation of the wrong. Then it is that you see how dark those eyes can 
 be, how deep-toned that voice, and with what delicacy of expression 
 she can mould and fashion every mood of mind, and give utterance 
 to sentiments that till then none have ever known how to embody. 
 
 " It is such a descent to her to play coquette ! Cleopatra cannot 
 — should not, be an Abigail. I am low and depressed to-night. I 
 scarcely know why : indeed, I have less reason than usual for heavy->t 
 heartedness. These people are singularly kind and attentive to me, 
 and seem to have totally forgotten how ungratefully once before I 
 repaid their civilities. What a stupid mistake do we commit in not 
 separating our public life from our social one, so as to show that our 
 opinions upon measures of state are disconnected with all the senti- 
 ments we maintain for oui' private friendships. I detect a hundred 
 sympathies, inconceivable points of contact, between these people 
 and myself. We pass hours praising the same things, and abusing 
 tlie same people ; and how could it possibly sever our relations that 
 I would endow Maynooth when they would pull it down, or that I 
 liked forty-shilling freeholders better than ten-pound householders ?
 
 THE MAETmS OP CEO' MAETIN. 393 
 
 You'll say that a certain earnestness accompanies strong convictions, 
 and that when a man is deeply impressed \vith some supposed truths, 
 he'll not measure his reprobation of those who assail them. But a 
 lawyer does all this, and forfeits nothing of the esteem of ' his learned 
 brother on the opposite side.' Nay, they exchange very ugly knocks 
 at times, and inflict very unseemly marks even with the gloves on : 
 still they go homeward, arm-in-arm, after, and laugh heartily at both 
 plaintiff and defendant. By Jove ! Harry, it may sound ill, but 
 somehow it seems as though to secure even a moderate share of 
 enjoyment in this life one must throne Expediency in the seat of Prin- 
 ciple. I'll add the conclusion to-morrow, and now, say, good night. 
 
 " Three days have passed over since I wrote the last time to you, 
 and it would require as many weeks, were I to chronicle all that has 
 passed through my mind in the interval. Events there have been, 
 few ; but, sensations — emotions, enough for a lifetime. Nor dare I 
 recall them ! Eaintly endeavouring to trace a few broken memories, 
 my pains of mind and body come back again, so that you must bear 
 with me, if I be incoherent, almost unintelligible. 
 
 " The day after I wrote to you, I never saw her. My Lady, who 
 came as usual to visit me in the day, said something about Miss 
 Henderson having a headache. Unpleasant letters from her family — 
 obliged to give up the day to answering them — but, all so confused, 
 and with such evident constraint as to show me that something 
 disagreeable loomed in view. 
 
 " The Captain dropped in about four o'clock, and as the weather 
 was unfavourable, we sat down to our party of piquet. By a little 
 address, I continued to lose nearly every game, and so, gradually led him ^ 
 into a conversation while we played ; but I soon saw that he only 
 knew something had occurred ' up-stairs,' but knew not what. 
 
 " ' I suspect, however,' added he. * It is only the old question as 
 to Kate's going away.' j 
 
 " ' Going away ! Going where?' cried I. 
 
 ^ " * Home to her father ; she is resolutely bent upon it — has been 
 so ever since we left Paris. My mother, who evidently — but on what 
 score, I know not — had some serious difference with her, is now most 
 eager to make concessions, and would stoop to — what for her is no 
 trifle — even solicitation to induce her to stay, has utterly filled ; so 
 too, has my father. Persuasion and entreaty not succeeding, I sus- 
 pect — but it is only suspicion — that they have had recourse to parental 
 authority, and asked old Henderson to interfere. At least, a letter 
 has come this mornhig from the west of Ireland, for Kate, wliich I, 
 surmise to be in his hand. Slie gave it, immediately on reading it, '
 
 394 THE MAETINS OF CHO' MAETIK. 
 
 to my mother, and I could detect in lier Ladyship's face, while she 
 perused it, unmistakable signs of satisfaction. "When she handed it 
 back, too, she gave a certaia condescending smile, which, in my 
 mother, implies victory, and seems to say, " Let us be friends, now 
 — I'm going to signal— cease firing." ' 
 
 " ' And Kate, did she make any remark — say anything ?' 
 " ' Not a syllable. She folded up the document, carefully and 
 steadily, and placed it in her work-box, and then resumed her em- 
 broidery in silence. I watched her narrowly, while I afiected to read 
 the paper, and saw that she had to rip out half she had done. After 
 a while my mother said, 
 
 " ' " You'll not answer that letter to-day, probably ?" 
 "'"I mean to do so, my Lady," said she; "and, with your per- 
 mission, will beg you to read my reply." 
 
 " ' " Very well," said my mother, and left the room. I was standing 
 outside on the balcony at the time, so tliat EJite believed, after my 
 mother's departure, she was quite alone. It was then she opened 
 the letter, and re-read it carefully, I never took my eyes off her ; 
 and yet what was passing in her mind, whether joy, grief, disappoint- 
 ment, or pleasure, I defy any man to declare ; nor when, liaviug laid 
 it down once more, she took up her work, not a line or a lineament 
 betrayed her. It was plain enough the letter was no pleasant one, 
 and I expected to have heard her sigh perhaps, or, at least, show 
 some sign of depression ; but no, she went on calmly, and at last 
 began to sing, in a low, fiiint voice, barely audible where I stood, one 
 of her little barcarole songs she is so fond of; and if there was no 
 sorrow in her own heart, by Jove ! she made mine throb heavily as 
 I listened ! I stood it as long as I was able, and then coughed to 
 show tliat I was there, and entered the room. She never lifted her 
 head, or noticed me, not even when I drew a chair close to her, and 
 sat down at her side. 
 
 " ' I suppose, Massingbred,' said he, after a pause, ' you'll laugh at 
 me, if I tell you I was in love with the Groverness ! Well, I should 
 have laughed too, some sis months ago, if any man had prophesied 
 it ; but the way I put the matter to myself is this : If I do succeed to 
 a good estate, I have a right to indulge my own fancy in a wife ; if 
 I don't — that is, if I be a ruined man — where's the harm in marrying 
 beneath me ?' 
 
 " ' Quite right, admirably argued,' said I, impatiently ; * go on.' 
 " ' I'm glad you agree with me,' said he, with the stupid satis- 
 faction of imbecility. ' I thought I had reduced the question to its 
 very narrowest bounds.'
 
 THE MARTINS OP CUO' MARTIN. 395 
 
 " ' So you have ; go on,' cried I. 
 
 " ' " Miss Henderson," said I — for I determined to show that I was 
 speaking seriously, and so I didn't call her Kate — " Miss Henderson, 
 I want to speak to you. I have been long seeking this opportunity ; 
 and if you will vouchsafe me a few minutes now, and hear me, on a 
 subject upon which all my happiness in life depends " 
 
 " ' When I got that far she put her work down on her knee, and 
 stared at me witli tliose large, full eyes of hers so steadily — ay, so 
 haughtily, too— •that I half wished myself fifty miles away. 
 
 " ' " Captain Martin," said she, in a low, distinct voice, " has it ever 
 occurred to you in life to have, by a mere moment of reflection — a 
 sudden flash of intelligence — saved yourself from some step, some 
 act which, if accomplished, had brought nothing but outrage to your 
 feeling, and insult to your self-esteem ? Let such now rescue you 
 from resuming this theme." 
 
 " ' " But you don't understand me," said I. " Wliat I wish to 
 
 say " Just at that instant my father came into the room in 
 
 search of her, and I made my escape to hide the confusion that I felt 
 ready to overwhelm me.' 
 
 " ' And have you not seen her since ?' 
 
 " ' No. Indeed, I think it quite as well, too. She'll have time to 
 think over what I said, and see what a deuced good offer it is ; for 
 though I know she was going to make objections about inequality of 
 station and all that, at the time, reflection will bring better thoughts.' 
 
 " ' And she'll consent, you think ?' 
 
 " ' I wish I had a bet on it,' said he. ■ - '■"'^' 
 
 " ' So you shall, then,' said I, endeavouring to seem thoroughly at 
 my ease. 'It's a very unworthy occasion for a wager, Martin ; but 
 I'll lay five hundred to one she refuses you.' 
 
 " ' Taken, and booked,' cried he, writing it down in his note-book. 
 ' I only regret it is not in thousands.' 
 
 " ' So it should be, if I could honestly stake what I haven't got.' 
 
 " * Tou ai;e so sanguine of winning ?' 
 
 " ' So certain, you ought to say.' 
 
 " ' Of course you use no influence against me — you take no step of 
 any kind to affect her decision.' 
 
 " ' Certainly not.' 
 
 " ' Nor are you But,' added he, laughing, ' I needn't make that 
 
 proviso. I was going to say, you are not to ask her yourself.' 
 
 " ' I'll even promise you, that, if you like,' said I. 
 
 " ' Then what can yoii mean ?' said he, with a puzzled look. ' But 
 whatever it be, I can stand the loss. I've won very close to double 
 as much from you this evening.'
 
 390 THE MA.IITIN8 OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 fiOC! c>h <^^ ff^'iiiiir') 7;- 
 
 " ' And as to the disappointment ?' 
 L " ' Oh, 1/oii'U not mention it, I'm certain, neither will she, so none 
 will be the wiser ; and, after all, the real bore in all these cases is the 
 gossip.' And with this consolatory reflection he left me to dress for 
 dinner. How well bred a fellow seems who has no feeling, but just 
 tact enough to detect the tone of the world and follow it. That's 
 Martin's case, and his manners are perfect! After he was gone, I 
 was miserable for not having quarrelled with him — said something 
 outrageous, insolent, and unbearable. That ho should have dared to 
 insult the young girl by such presumption as the offer of Jiis hand is 
 really too much. What difference of station — wide as the poles 
 asunder — could compare with their real inequality. The fop, the 
 idler, the incompetent, to aspire to Iter! Even his very narrative 
 proclaimed his mean nature, wandering on as it did, from a lounge on 
 the balcony to an offer of marriage ! 
 
 ' " Now, to conclude this Avearisome story — and I fancy, Harry, that 
 already you half deem me a fitting rival for the tiresome Captain — 
 but to finish, Martin came early into my room, and laying a bank- 
 note for 100/. on the bed, merely added, ' You were right ; there's 
 your money.' I'd have given double the sura to hear the details of 
 this affair — in what terms the refusal was conveyed — on what grounds 
 she based it ; but he would not afford me the slightest satisfaction on 
 any of these points. Indeed, he displayed more vigour of character 
 than I suspected in him, in the way he arrested my inquiries. He 
 left this for Paris immediately after, so that the mystery of that in- 
 terview will doubtless remain impenetrable to me. 
 
 " "We are all at sixes and sevens to-day. Old Martin, shocked by 
 some tidings of Ireland that he chanced upon in the public papers, I 
 believe, has had a stroke of paralysis, or a seizure resembling that 
 malady. Lady Dorothea is quite helpless from terror, and but for 
 Kate, the whole household would be in utter chaos and disorganisa- 
 tion ; but she goes about, with her arm in a sling, calm and tranquil, 
 but with the energy and activity of one who feels that all depends 
 ,upon her guidance and direction. The servants obey her with a 
 promptitude that proclaims instinct ; and even the doctor lays aside 
 the mysterious jargon of his craft, and condescends to talk sense to 
 her. I have not seen her ; passing rumours only reach me in my 
 solitude, and I sit here writing and brooding alternately. 
 
 " P.S. — ^INIartin is a little better ; no immediate danger to life, but 
 slight hopes of ultimate recovery. I was wrong as to the cause. It 
 was a proclamation of outlawry against his son the Captain, which 
 he read in the Times. Some implacable creditor or other had pushed
 
 THE MARTIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 397 
 
 his claim so far, as I believe is easy enough to do now-a-days ; and 
 poor Martin, who connected this stigma with all the disgrace that 
 once accompanied such a sentence, fell senseless to the ground, and 
 was taken up palsied. He is perfectly collected and even tranquil 
 now, and they wheeled me in to sit with him for an hour or so. 
 Lady Dorothea behaves admirably ; the first shock overwhelmed her, 
 but that passed off, and she is now all that could be imagined of 
 tenderness and zeal. 
 
 " Kate I saw but for a second. She asked me to write to Captain 
 Martin, and request him to iiasten home. It Avas no time to trifle 
 with her, so I simply promised to do so, adding, 
 
 " ' Tou, I trust, will not leave this at such a moment ?' 
 
 " ' Assuredly not,' said she, slightly colouring at what implied my 
 knowledge of her plans. 
 
 " ' Then all will go on well in that case,' said I. 
 
 " ' I never knew that I was reckoned what people call lucky,' said 
 she, smiling. ' Indeed, most of those with whom I have been asso- 
 ciated in life, might say the opposite.' And then, without waiting to 
 hear me, she left the room. 
 
 " My brain is throbbing and my cheeks burning ; some feverish 
 -access is upon me. So I send oil" this ere I grow worse. 
 eF>i.iiri'>o i,;,f // ,,,, nn pjvjf" Tour faithfid friend, -TffvH-p, fudi 
 
 " Jack MASSiKGBUED.'ifa 
 
 iu ^£fi5 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIX. 
 
 HOW ROGUES AGKEBJ(,v 1,^ 
 
 Leatino the Martins in their quiet retreat at Spa, nor dwelling 
 any longer on a life whose daily monotony was unbroken by au 
 incident, we once more turn our glance w^estward. Were we assured 
 that our kind readers' sympathies were with us, the change would bo 
 a pleasure to us, since it is there, in that wild mountain tract, that 
 pathless region of fern and wild furze, that we love to linger, 
 rambling half listlessly through silent glens and shady gorges, or 
 sitting pensively on the storm-lashed shore, till sea and sky melt 
 into one, and nought lowers through the gloom save the tall crags 
 
 above us ! 
 
 We are onco more back again at the little watering-place of
 
 398 THE MABTINS OF CRO' MARTIl^. 
 
 Kilkieran, to whicli we introduced our readers in an early chapter 
 of this narrative ; but another change has come over that humble 
 locality. The Osprey's Nest, the ornamented villa, on which her 
 Ladyship had squandered so lavishly good money and bad taste, was 
 now an Inn ! A vulgar sign-board, representing a small boat in a 
 heavy sea, hung over the door, with the words " The Corragh" 
 written underneath. The spacious saloon, whose bay-windows opened 
 on the Atlantic, was now a coffee-room, and the small boudoir that 
 adjoined it — desecration of desecrations — the bar ! 
 
 It needs not to have been the friend or favoured guest beneath a 
 roof where elegance and refinement have prevailed to feel the shock 
 at seeing them replaced by all that ministers to coarse pleasure and 
 vulgar association. The merest stranger cannot but experience a 
 sense of disgust at the contrast. Whichever way you turned, some 
 object met the eye recalling past splendour and present degradation ; 
 indeed, Toby Shea, the landlord, seemed to feel as one of liis 
 brightest prerogatives the right of insulting the memory of his pre- 
 decessors, and throwing into stronger antithesis the " former" and 
 the "now." 
 
 " Here ye are now, Sir, in my Lady's own parlour, and that's her 
 bedroom, where I left your trunk," said he, as he ushered in a 
 newly-arrived traveller, whose wet and road-stained drapery bore 
 traces of an Irish winter's day. " Mr. Scanlan told me that your 
 Honor would be here at four o'clock, and he ordered dinner for two, 
 at five, and a good dinner you'll have." 
 
 " There ; let them open my traps, and fetch me a pair of slippers, 
 and a dressing-gown," broke in the traveller; " and be sure to have 
 a good fire in my bedroom. What an infernal climate ! It has 
 rained since the day I landed at Dublin, and now, that I have come 
 down here, it has blown a hurricane besides. And how cold this 
 room is," added he, shuddering. 
 
 "That's all by reason of them windows," said Toby; "French 
 windows they call them ; but I'll get real Irish sashes put up next 
 season, if I live. It was a fancy of that ould woman that built the 
 place to have nothing that wasn't foreign." 
 
 " They are not popular, then — the Martins ?" asked the stranger. 
 
 "Popular!" echoed Toby, " Be Gorra they are not. Why would 
 they be ? Is it rack-renting, process-sarving, exterminating, would 
 make them popular ? Sure we're all ruined on the estate. There 
 isn't a mother's son of us mightn't be in gaol! and it's not 
 Maurice's fault either — Mr. Scanlan's, I mean. Tour Honor's a 
 friend of his, I believe," added he, stealthily. The stranger gave a
 
 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MAETIN. 399 
 
 short nod. " Sure he only does what he's ordered, and it's breaking 
 his heart it is to do them cruel things they force him to." 
 
 " "Was the management of the estate better when they lived at 
 home ?" asked the stranger. 
 
 " Some say, yes ; more says, no. I never was their tenant myself, 
 for I lived in Oughterard, and kept the Goose and Griddle in John- 
 street ; but I believe, if the truth was told, it was always pretty much 
 the same. They were azy and moderate when they didn't want 
 money, but ready to take tbe skin off your back when they were 
 hard up." 
 
 " And is that their present condition ?" 
 
 "I think it is," said he, with a confident grin. " They're spend- 
 ing thousands for himdreds since they went abroad ; and that chap 
 in the Dragoons — the Captain they call him — sells a farm, or a plot 
 of ground, just the way ye'd tear the leaf out of a book. There's 
 Mr. Maurice, now — and I'll go and hurry the dinner, for he'll give us 
 no peace if we're a minute late." 
 
 The stranger — or, to give him his proper name, Mr. Merl — now 
 approached the window, and watched, not without admiration, the 
 skilfid management by which Scanlan skimmed along the strand, 
 zigzagging his smart nags through all the awkward impediments of 
 the way, and wending his tandem through what appeared a labyrinth 
 of confusion. ^ 1 1 ■' ' 
 
 Men bred and born in great cities are somewhat prone to fancy that 
 certain accomplishments, such as tandem-driving, steeple-chasing, 
 and such like, are the exclusive acquirements of rank and station. 
 They have only witnessed them as the gifts of Guardsmen and " young 
 Squires of high degree," never suspecting that in the country a very 
 inferior class is often endowed with these skilful arts. Mr. Merl felt, 
 therefore, no ordinary reverence for Maurice Seanlau, a sentim.ent 
 fully reciprocated by the Attorney, as he beheld the gorgeous dress- 
 ing-gown, rich tasseled cap, and Turkish trousers of the other. 
 
 " I thought I'd arrive before you. Sir," said Scanlan, with a pro- 
 found bow, as he entered the room ; " but I'm glad you got in firslJ. 
 What a shower that was." 
 
 " Shower !" said Merl ; " a West India hurricane is a zephyr to 
 it. I'd not live in this climate if you'd give me the whole Martin 
 estate!" 
 
 " I'm sure of it. Sir ; one must be bred in the place, and know no 
 better, to stand it." And although the speech was uttered in all 
 humility, Mei'l gave the speaker a searching glance, as though to say, 
 "Don't lose your time tr}dng to humbug me — I'm 'York' too." Indeed,
 
 400 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN, 
 
 there was a species of freemasonry iu tlie looks that now passed be- 
 tween the two ; each seemed instinctively to feel that he was in the 
 presence of an equal, and that artifice and deceit might be laid aside 
 for the nonce. 
 
 " I liope you agree with mc," said Scanlan, in a lower and more 
 confidential voice, " that this was the best place to come to. Here 
 you can stay as long as you like, and nobody the wiser ; but 
 in the town of Oughterard, they'd be at you morning, noon, 
 and night — tracking your steps — questioning the waiter, ay, and 
 maybe taking a peep at your letters. I've known that same before 
 now." 
 
 " Well ! I suppose you're right, only this place does look a little 
 dull, I confess." 
 
 " It's not tlie season, to be sure," said Scanlan, apologetically. 
 " Oil ! and there is a season here ?" 
 
 " Isn't there, by George !" said Maurice, smacking his lips. " I've 
 seen two heifers killed here of a morning, and not so much as a beef- 
 steak to be got before twelve o'clock. 'Tis the height of fasliion comes 
 down here in July — the Hams of Kiltimmon, and the Bodkins of 
 Crossmagiin ; and there was talk last year of a Lord — I forget his 
 name, but lie ran away from Newmarket, and the story went that he 
 was making for this." 
 
 '' Any play ?" asked Merl. 
 
 " Play is it ? That there is ; whist every night and backgammon." 
 Merl threw up his eyebrows with pretty much the same feeling 
 with which the Great Napoleon repeated the words " Bows and 
 Arrows 1" as the weapons of a force that offered him alliance. 
 
 " If you'd allow me to dine in this trim, Mr. Scanlan," said he, 
 " I'd ask you to order dinner." 
 
 " I was only waiting for you to give the word. Sir," said Maurice, 
 reverting to the habit of respect at any fresh display of the other's 
 pretensions ; and opening the door, he gave a shrill whistle. 
 
 The landlord himself answered the summons, and whispered a few 
 words in Scanlan' s ear. 
 
 " That's it, always," cried Maurice, angrily. "I never came into 
 the house for the last ten days without heai'ing the same story. I'd 
 like to know Avho and what he is, that must always have the best 
 that's going?" Then turning to Merl, he added: "It's a lodger he 
 has up-stairs, an old fellow that came about a fortnight back ; and if 
 there's a fine fish, or a fat turkey, or a good saddle of mutton to be 
 got, he'll have it." 
 
 " Faix, he pays well !" said Toby, " whoever he is."
 
 THE MAUTINS OF CRO' MARTIN", 401 
 
 " And be lias secured our salmon, I find, and left us to dine on 
 ■whiting," said Maurice. 
 
 " An eigliteen-pound fisli !" echoed Tobj; "and it would be as- 
 much as my life is -vrortb to cut it in two." 
 
 " And he's alone, too ?" 
 
 " No, Sir. Mr. Crow, the painter, is to dine with him. He's 
 making drawings for him of all the wonderful places down the coast." 
 
 " "Well, give us what we're to have at once," said Maurice, angrily. 
 " The basket of wine was taken out of the gig ?" 
 
 " Tes, Sir; all's right and ready for you, and barrin' the fish, you'll 
 have an elegant dinner." 
 
 Tliis little annoyance over, the guests relished their fare like 
 hungry men; nor, time and place considered, was it to be de- 
 spised. 
 
 " Digestion is a great leveller:" Mr. Merl and Mr. Scanlan felt far- 
 more on an equality when, the dinner over and the door closed, they 
 drew the table close to the fire, and drank to each other in a glass of 
 racy port. 
 
 " "Well, I believe a man might live here, after all," said Merl, as he 
 gazed admiringly on the bright hues of his variegated lower garments. 
 
 " I'm proud to hear you say so," said Scanlan; "for, of course, 
 you've seen a deal of life — and when I say life, I mean fashion and 
 high style — nobs and swells." 
 
 " Yes ; I believe I have," said Merl, lighting his cigar ; " that was 
 always ony * line.' I fancy there's few fellows going have more expe- 
 rience of the really great world than Herman Merl." 
 
 " And you like it ?" asked Maurice, confidentially. 
 
 " I do, and I do not," said the Jew, hesitatingly. "To one like- 
 myself, who knows them all, always on terms of close intimacy — 
 iriendship, I may say — it's all very well; but take a new hand just 
 launched into life, a fellow not of their own set — why, Sir, there's no 
 name for the insults and outrage he'll meet with." 
 
 " But what could they do ?" asked Scanlan, inquiringly. 
 
 " AVhat ?— anything, everything ; laugh at him, live on him, win 
 his last guinea — and then, blackball him !" 
 
 " And, couldn't he get a crack at them ?" 
 
 " A what ?" 
 
 "Couldn't he have a shot at some of them, at least?" asked 
 Maurice. 
 
 "No, no," said Mr, Merl, half contemptuously; "they don't do' 
 that:' 
 
 2j)
 
 402 THE MAETIIS-S OP CHO' MAETIN. 
 
 "Fak! and we'd do it down here," said Scanlan, "devil may 
 care who or Avliat lie was that tried the game." 
 
 " But, I'm speaking of London and Paris ; I'm not alluding to the 
 Sandwich Islands," saidMerl, on whose brain the port and the strong 
 fire were already producing their effects. 
 
 Scanlan's face flushed angrily ; but a glance at the other checked 
 the reply he was about to make, and he merely pushed the decanter 
 across the table. 
 
 " Tou see. Sir," said Merl, in the tone of a man laying down a 
 great dictum, " there's worlds and worlds. There's Claude "Wil- 
 loughby's world, which is young Martin's and Stanhope's and mine. 
 There, we are all young fellows of fortune, good family, good prospects, 
 you understand — no, thank you, no more wine — I feel that what I've 
 taken has got into my head ; and this cigar, too, is none of tlie best. 
 Would it be taking too great a liberty with you if I were to snatch a 
 ten minutes' doze — -just ten minutes P" 
 
 " Treat me like an old friend; make yourself quite at home," said 
 Maurice. " There's enough here" — and lie pointed to the bottles on 
 the table — " to keep me company, and I'll wake you up when I've 
 finished them." 
 
 Mr. Merl made no reply, but drawing a chair for his legs, and dis- 
 posing his drapery gracefully around him, he closed his eyes, and 
 before Maurice had replenished his glass, gave audible evidence of a 
 sound sleep. 
 
 Now, worthy reader, we practise no deceptions with you ; nor so 
 far as we are able, do we aEow others to do so. It is but fair, there- 
 fore, to tell you, that Mr. Merl was not asleep, nor had he any 
 tendency whatever to slumber about him. That astute gentleman, 
 however, had detected that the port was, with the addition of a great 
 fire, too much for him; he recognised in himself certain indications of 
 confusion that implied wandering and uncertain faculties, and he 
 resolved to arrest the progress of such symptoms by a little repose. 
 He felt, in short, that if he had been engaged in play, that he should 
 have at once " cut out," and so he resolved to give himself the ad- 
 vantage of the prerogative which attaches to a tired traveller. There 
 he lay then, with closed eyes — breathing heavily — to aU appearance 
 sound asleep. 
 
 Maurice Scanlan, meanwhile, scanned the recumbent figure before 
 him with the eye of a connoisseur. We have once before said, that Mr. 
 Scanlan's jockey experiences had marvellously aided his worldly craft, 
 and that he scrutinised those with whom he came in contact through
 
 X
 
 THE MAETIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 403 
 
 life, with all the shrewd acumen he would have bestowed upon a 
 horse whose purchase he meditated. It was easy to see that the 
 investigation puzzled him. Mr. Merl did not belong to any one 
 category he had ever seen before. Maurice was acquainted with 
 various ranks and conditions of men ; but here was a new order, not 
 referable to any known class. He opened Captain Martin's letter, 
 which he carried in his pocket-book, and re-read it ; but it was vague 
 and uninstructive. He merely requested that "every attention might 
 be paid to his friend Mr. Merl, who wanted to see something of the 
 west, and know all about the condition of the people, and such likej^ 
 He's up to everything, Master Maurice," continued the writer, 
 " and so, just the man for ?/oz^." There was little to be gleaned from 
 this source, and so he felt, as he folded and replaced the epistle in his 
 pocket. 
 
 " What can he be," thought Scanlan, '' and what brings him down 
 here ? Is he a IMember of Parliament, that wants to make himself 
 up about Ireland and Irish grievances ? Is he a money-lender, that 
 wants to see the security before he makes a loan ? Are they thinking 
 of him for the agency ?" — and Maurice flushed as the suspicion crossed 
 him — "or is it after Miss Mary he is?" And a sudden paleness 
 covered his face at the thought. '^ I'd give a cool hundred, this 
 minute, I could read you," said he to himself. "Ay, and I'd not 
 ask any one's help how to deal with you afterwards," added he, as he 
 drained off his glass. "While he was thus ruminating, a gentle tap 
 was heard at the door, and, anxious not to disturb the sleeper, 
 Scanlan crossed the room with noiseless steps, and opened it. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, Simmy," said he, in a low voice ; " come in, and make 
 no noise ; he's asleep." 
 
 " And that's him !" said Crow, standing still to gaze on the re- 
 cumbent figure before him, which he scrutinised with all an artist's 
 appreciation. 
 
 " Ay, and what do you think of him ?" whispered Scanlan. 
 
 " That chap is a Jew," said Sim, in the same cautious tone. " I 
 know the features well ; you see the very image of him in the old 
 Venetian pictures. Whenever they wanted cunning and cruelty — 
 but more cunning than cruelty — tlioy always took that type." 
 
 "I wouldn't wonder if you were right, Simmy," said Scanlan, on 
 whom a new light was breaking. 
 
 " I know I am ; look at the spread of the nostrils, and the thick, 
 full lips, and the coarse, projecting under-jaw. 'Fah. !" said he to 
 himself, " I've seen the day I'd like to have had a study of your face." 
 
 2d2
 
 404 THE MAET?:^i '69 cSo*'ltlllffi" 
 
 " Indeed !" said Scanlau, 
 
 " Just so ; he'd make a great Judas !" said Crow, entliusiasticall j, 
 " It is the miser all over. Tou know," added he, " if one took him 
 in the historical way, you'd get rid of the vulgarity, and make him 
 grander and finer ; for, looking at him now, he might he a dog- 
 stealer." ^^,p r,,,r.„ ..: ^^""^^ ^'' 
 
 ,^ Spanlan gave a low, cautious laugh as he placed a chair heside his 
 own for the artist, and filled out for him a bumper of port..'' ,'" 
 
 , " I was just dying for a glass of this," said Crow. " I dined wiui 
 jMr. Barry up-stairs; and though he's a fine-hearted old fellow in 
 many respects, he's too abstemious ; a pint of sherry for two at 
 dinner, and a pint of port after, that's the allowance. Throw out 
 as many hints as you lilie, suggest how and what you will, but devil 
 a drop more you'll get." 
 
 " And who is he ?" asked Scanlan. 
 
 "I wish you could tell me," said Crow. 
 
 " You haven't a notion ; nor what he is ?" 
 
 " Not the slightest. I think, indeed, he said he was in the army ; 
 but I'm not clear it wasn't a commissary or a surgeon ; maybe he ' 
 was, but ho knows a little about everything. Take him on naval 
 matters, and he understands them well ; ask him about foreign 
 countries — egad, he was everywhere. Ireland seems the only place 
 new to him, and it won't be so long, for he goes among the people, 
 and talks to them, and hears all they have to say, with a patience that 
 breaks my heart. Like all strangers, he's astonished with the acute- 
 ness he meets with, and never ceases saying, ' Ain't they a wonderful 
 people ? Who ever saw their equal for intelligence ?,' " 
 
 " Bother !" said Scanlan, contemptuously. ' '' ' *^ * 
 
 " But it is not bother ! Maurice ; he's right. They are just what 
 ^e says." ^.j^ p,, 
 
 " Arrah ! don't be humbugging me, Mr. Crow," said the other. 
 " They're a set of scheming, plotting vagabonds, that are unmanage- 
 able by any one, except a fellow that has the key to them as I have." 
 
 " You know them, that's true," said Crow, half apologetically, for 
 he liked the port, and did not feel he ought to push contradiction 
 
 "And that's more than your friend Barry does, or ever will," said 
 Scanlan. " I defy an Englishman — I don't care how shrewd he is — 
 to understand Paddy." 
 
 A slight movement on Mr. Merl's part here admonished the speaker 
 to speak lower.
 
 THE ilAKTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 405 
 
 "Ay," continued Maurice, "that fellow there — whoever he is, or 
 whatever he is — is uo fool; he's deep enough: and yet there's not a 
 bare-legged gossoon on the estate I won't back to take hina in." 
 
 "But Barry's another kiiid of man entirely. You wouldn't call 
 him 'cute or cunning ; but he's a sensible, well-judging man, that has 
 seen a deal of life." 
 
 " And what is it, he says, brings him here ?" asked Scaulan. 
 
 " He never said a word about that yet," replied Crow, "further 
 than his desire to visit a country he had heard much of, and, if I 
 understood him aright, where some of his ancestors came from ; for, 
 you see, at times he's not so easy for one to follow, for he has a kind 
 of a foreign twang in his tongue, and often mumbles to himself in a 
 strange language." 
 
 " I mistrust all these fellows that go about the world, pretend- 
 ing they want to see this, and observe that," said Scanlan, sen- 
 tentiously. ., ,> 
 
 " It's mighty hard to mistrust a man that gives you the like of 
 that," said Crow, as he drew a neatly-folded bank-note from his 
 pocket, and handed it to Scanlan. 
 
 " Twenty pounds ! And he gave you that ?" 
 
 " This very evening ! ' It is a little more than our bargain, Mr. 
 Crow,' said he, ' but not more than I can afford to give ; and so 
 I hope you'll not refuse it.' These were his words, as he took my 
 lot of drawings — poor daubs they we^-er-and placed them in his port- 
 
 " So that he's rich ?" said Maurice, pensively. 
 
 " There seems no end of his money ; there's not a day goes over 
 he doesn't spend fifteen or sixteen pounds in meat, potatoes, barley, 
 and the like. Sure, you may say he's been feeding the two islands 
 himself for the last fortnight, and what's more, one mustn't as much 
 as allude to it. He gets angry at the slightest word that can bring 
 the subject forward. It was the other day he said to myself: 
 ' If you can relieve destitution without too much parade of its 
 suflerings, you are not only obviating the vulgar display of rich bene- 
 volence, but you arc inculcating high sentiments and delicacy of 
 feeling in those that are relieved. Take care how you pauperise 
 the heart of a people, for you'll have to make a workhouse of the 
 nation.' " 
 
 " Sure, they're paupers already !" exclaimed Scanlan, contcmptu- 
 oixsly. " "When I hear all these elegant sentiments uttered about 
 Ireland, I know a man is an ass ! This is a poor countiy — the people
 
 406 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 
 
 is poor, the gentry is poor, tlie climate isn't tlie best, and bad as it is 
 you're never sure of it. All that anybody can hope to do, is to make 
 his living out of it ; but as to improving it — raising the intellectual 
 standard of the people — and all that balderdash we hear of, you might 
 just as well tell me that there was an Act of Parliament to make 
 everybody in Connaught six feet high. ISTature says one thing, 
 and it signifies mighty little if the House of Commons says the 
 other." 
 
 " And you're telling me this in the very spot that contradicts every 
 word you say !" cried Crow, half angrily, for the port had given him 
 courage, and the decanter waxed low. 
 
 " How so ?" exclaimed Scanlan. 
 
 " Here — where we sit on this very estate of Cro' Martin — where a 
 young girl — a child the other day — has done more to raise the condi- 
 tion of the people, to educate and civilise them, than the last six ge- 
 nerations together." 
 
 A long wailing whistle from Scanlan was the insulting reply to the 
 assertion. 
 
 " "What do you mean by that ?" cried Crow, passionately. 
 
 " I mean that she has done more mischief to the property than 
 five-and-forty years' good management will ever repair. Now don't 
 be angry, Simmy ; keep your temper, and draw your chair back again 
 to the table. I'm not going to say one word against her intentions ; 
 but when I see the waste of thousands of pounds on useless improve- 
 ments, elegant roads that lead nowhere, bridges that nobody will 
 ever pass, and harbours without boats, not to say the habits of 
 dependence the people have got by finding everything done for them, 
 I tell you again, ten years more of Miss Mary's rule will finish the 
 estate." 
 
 '* I don't believe a word of it !" blurted out Simmy, boldly. " I saw 
 her yesterday coming out of a cabin, where she passed above an 
 hour, mussing typhus fever and cholera. The cloak she took off the 
 door — for she left it there to dry — was still soaked with rain, her wet 
 hair hung down her shoulders, and as she stood bridling her own pony 
 — for there was not a living soul to help her " 
 
 " She'd have made an elegant picture," broke in Scanlan, with a 
 laugh. " But that's exactly the fault of us in Ireland — we are all 
 picturesque — I wish we were prosperous ! But come, Simmy, finish 
 your Avine ; it's not worth disputing about. If all I hear about 
 matters be true, there will be very little left of Cro' Martin when the 
 debts are paid."
 
 THE ITAETOrS OF CEO' irAETI>'. 407 
 
 " What ! do joxi mean to say tliat they're in difficulty r" 
 
 " Tar worse : the stories that reach me call it — ruin !" 
 
 Simmy drew his chair closer to the table, and in a whisper scarcely 
 breathed, said, " That chap's not asleep, Maurice." 
 
 "I know it," whispered the other; and added, aloud, "Many a 
 fellow that thinks he has the first charge on the property will soon 
 discover his mistake ; there are mortgages of more than eighty years' 
 standing on the estate. You've had a great sleep, sir," said he, 
 addressing Merl, who now yawned and opened his eyes ; " I hope our 
 talking didn't distui'b you ?" 
 
 " ISTot in the least," said Merl, rising and stretching his legs. " I'm 
 all right now, and quite fresh for anything." 
 
 " Let me introduce Mr. Crow to you, Sir— a native artist that 
 we're all proud of." 
 
 " That's exactly what you are not, then," said Crow; " nor would 
 you be if I deserved it. You'd rather gain a cause at the Quarter 
 Sessions, or take in 'a friend about a horse, than be the man that 
 painted the Madonna at Florence." 
 
 "He's cross this evening — cross and ill-humoured," said Scanlan, 
 laughing. " Maybe he'll be better-tempered when we have tea." 
 
 " I was just going to ^sk for it," said Merl, as he arranged his 
 whiskers and performed a small impromptu toilet before the glass, 
 while Simmy issued forth to give the necessary orders. 
 
 " "We'll have tea, and a rubber of dummy afterwards," said Scanlan, 
 " if you've no objection." 
 
 " Whatever you like — I'm quite at your disposal," replied Merl, 
 who now seated himself with an air of bland amiabilty, ready, ac- 
 cording to the amount of the stake, to win pounds or lose six- 
 pences.
 
 40S THE MAETINS OE CRO' MAEIIN. 
 
 ]>ff;- '•'"< [lolfi ilH jveb-o* xioj 1970 looi axl* qooi I 
 r. Jii nido .01 sdi Lo" 
 
 "ijji-:.-j7-';joa" 9U hand niLi jiisi r ' 
 
 CHAPTEE XL. 
 
 -gA 9i* MR. MERL "AT FENCE." 
 
 Ail the projects wbich Mr. Scanlan had struck out for Merl's 
 occupation on the following day \rere marred by the unfavourable 
 weather. It blew fiercely from the westward, driving, upon shore, a 
 tremendous sea, and sending white masses of drift and foam far in- 
 land. The rain, too, came down in torrents. The low-lying clouds, 
 which scarcely reached more than half-way up the mountain sides, 
 seemed as if rent asnnder at times, and from them came a deluge, 
 filling all the water-courses, and swelling rivulets to the size of 
 mighty torrents. The unceasing roll of thunder, now near, now 
 rumbling along in distant volleys, swelled the wild uproar, and helped 
 to make up a scene of grand but desolate meaning. . , . 1x91111 ^oi- 
 
 AYhat could well be drearier than that little line of cabins that 
 fox-med the village of Kilkieran, as with strongly barricaded doors, 
 ■and with roofs secured by ropes and spars, they stood exposed to the 
 full violence of the wild Atlantic ! Not a man, not a living thing 
 •was to be seen. The fishermen were all within doors, cowering in 
 , gloomy indolence over the scanty turf-fires, and brooding darkly on 
 the coming winter. 
 
 With a thorough conviction of all the dreariness of this scene, 
 Mr. Merl stood at the window and looked out. He had been all his 
 life too actively engaged in his pinrsuits of one kind or other to know 
 much about what is called "being bored." Let rain fall ever so 
 heavily, a cab could take him down to " 'Change" — the worst wea- 
 ther never marred a sale of stock, and Consols could rise even while 
 the mercury was falling. The business-life of a great city seems to 
 'Care little for weather, and possibly they whose intent faculties are 
 bent on gain, scarcely remember whether the sun shines upon their 
 labours. 
 
 Merl felt differently now : the scene before him Avas wilder and 
 gloomier than anything he had ever beheld. Beyond and beliind the 
 village, steep mountains rose on every side, of barren and rugged
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 409 
 
 surface — not a vestige of any culture to be seen ; wliile on tlie road 
 which led along a narrow gorge, nothing moved. All was dreary and 
 deserted. 
 
 " I suppose you'll keep the roof over you to-day, Mr. Merl ?" said 
 Scanlan, as he entered the room, buttoned up to the chin in a coarse 
 frieze coat, while his head was protected by a genuine " sou' -wester" 
 of oilskin. 
 
 "And are you going out in such weather ?" asked Merl. 
 
 " ' Needs must,' Sir, as the proverb says. I have to be at the As- 
 sizes at Oughterard this morning, to prosecute some scoundrels for 
 cutting brambles in the wood ; and I want to serve notices on a 
 townland about eight miles from this ; and then I'll have to go 
 round by Cro' Martin and see Miss Mary. That's not the worst of 
 it," added he, with an impudent leer, " for she's a fine girl, and has 
 the prettiest eyes in the kingdom." ""''' ;~.'^'''^ 
 
 " I have a letter for her," said Merl — "a letter of iritrbduction 
 from Captain Martin. I suppose I might as well send it by you, 
 and ask if I might pay my respects, to-morrow or next day ?" 
 w(" To be sure ; I'll take it with pleasure. You'll like her Avhen you 
 see her. She's not a bit like the rest : no pride, no stand-off — tbat 
 is, when she takes a fancy ; but she is full of life and courage for 
 anything." 
 
 "Ah, yes — the Captain said we should get on very well together," 
 drawled out Merl. ' 
 
 ;;>" Did he though!" cried Scanlan, eagerly. Then as suddenly 
 checking his anxiety, he added, " But what does Tie know about Miss 
 Mary ? surely they're as good as strangers to each other. And for 
 the matter of that, even Avben he was here, they didn't take to each 
 other — she was always laughing at the way lie rode." 
 '^•'^' Wasn't he in the Dragoons?" asked Merl, in a half-rebutting 
 tone. 
 
 " So he was ; but what does that signify ? Sure it's not a cavalry 
 seat, with your head down and your elbows squared, will teach you 
 to cross country — at least, Avith Mary Martin beside you. You'll 
 see her one of these days yourself, Mr. Merl. May I never, if you 
 don't see her now!" cried Scanlan, suddenly, as he pointed to the 
 road, along which a horse was seen coming at speed, the rider breast- 
 ing the storm fearlessly, and only crouching to the saddle as the gusts 
 swept past. " AVhat iu the name of all that's wonderful brings her 
 here?" cried Maurice. "Slie wasn't down at Ivilkieran for four 
 months." "'-'^ ^'^'^''^*
 
 LfflLO THE iEAETIKS OF OEO' MAETIN. 
 
 "She'll stop at tMs inn here, I suppose?" said Merl, who was 
 already performing an imaginary toilet for her visit. 
 
 "You may take yonr oath she'll not!" said Scaulan, half roughly ; 
 " she'd not cross the threshold of it ! Slie's going to some cabin or 
 other. There she goes — isn't that riding ?" cried he in animation. 
 " Did you ever see a horse held neater ? And see how she picks the 
 road for him. Easy as she's sitting, she'd take a four-foot wall this 
 minute, without stirring in her saddle." 
 
 " She hasn't got a nice day for pleasuring !" said the Jew, with 
 a vulgar caclde. 
 
 " If ye call it pleasure," rejoined Scanlan, " what she's after ; but I 
 suspect there's somebody sick down at the end of the Tillage. There, 
 I'm right ; she's pulling up at Mat Landy's — I wonder if it's old 
 Mat is bad." 
 
 " Tou know him ?" asked Merl. 
 
 " To be siu-e I do. He's known down the coast for forty miles. 
 He saved more men from shipwreck himself than everybody in the 
 barony put together ; but his heart is all but broke about a grand- 
 daughter that ran away. Sure enough, she's going in there." 
 
 *' Did you see Miss Mary ?" cried Crow, entering suddenly. 
 " She's just gone down the beach. They say there's a case now 
 down there." 
 
 "A case — of what?" said Merl. 
 
 " Cholera or typhus, as it may be," said Crow, not a little sur- 
 prised at the unmistakable terror of the other's face. 
 
 " And she's gone to see it !" exclaimed the Jew. 
 
 " To do more than see it. She'll nurse the sick man, and bring 
 him medicine and whatever he wants." 
 
 " And not afraid ?" 
 
 "Afraid!" broke in Crow. "I'd like to know what she's afraid 
 of. Ask Mr. Scanlan what would frighten her." But Mr. Scanlan 
 had already slipped noiselessly from the room, and was already on 
 his way down the shore. 
 
 "Well," said Merl, lighting his cigar, and drawing an arm-chair 
 close to the fire, " I don't see the advantage of all that. She could 
 send the doctor, I suppose, and make her servants take down to 
 these people whatever she wanted to send them. What especial 
 utility there is in going herself, I can't perceive." 
 
 " I'll tell you, then," said Crow. " It's more likely the doctor is 
 busy this minute, ten or fifteen miles away — for the whole country is 
 down in sickness ; but even if he wasn't, if it were not for her
 
 THE MAETIKS 05 CBO' ITAETrN". 411 
 
 courage in going everywhere, braving clanger and death every hour, 
 there would be a general flight of all that could escape. They'd 
 rush into the towns — where already there's more sickness than they 
 know how to deal with. She encourages some — she shames more ; 
 and not a few are proud to be brave in such company, for she is au 
 angel — that's her name — an angel." 
 
 " Well, I should like to see hex*," drawled out Merl, as he smoothed 
 down his scrubby mustachios. 
 
 "Nothing easier, then," rejoined Crow, "Put on your coat and 
 hat, and we'll stroll down the beach till she comes out ; it can't be 
 very long, for she has enough on her hands elsewhere." 
 
 The proposition of a " stroll" in such weather was very little to Mr. 
 Merl's taste ; but his curiosity was stronger than even his fear of a 
 drenching, and having mufiled and shawled himself as if for an Arctic 
 winter, they set out together from the inn. 
 
 " And you tell me," said he, " that the Martins used to live here — 
 actually pass their lives in this atrocious climate ?" 
 
 " That they did — and the worst mistake they ever made was to 
 leave it," said Crow. 
 
 " I confess you puzzle me," said Merl. 
 
 "Very possibly I do. Sir," was the calm reply; "but you'd have 
 understood me at once had you known this country while they re- 
 sided at Cro' ]Martin. It wasn't only that the superfluities of their 
 wealth ran over, and filled the cup of the poor man, but there Avas a 
 sense of hope cherished, by seeing, that, however hard the times, how- 
 ever adverse the season, there was always ' his Honor,' as they called 
 Mr. Martin, whom they could appeal to for aid, or for lenient treat- 
 ment." 
 
 " Very strange — very odd, all this," said Merl, musing. " But all 
 that I hear of Ireland represents the people as if in a continual 
 struggle for mere existence, and actually in a daily state of de- 
 pendence on the will of somebody above them." 
 
 " And if that same condition were never to be exaggerated into 
 downright want, or pushed to au actual slavery, we could be very 
 happy with it," said Crow, "and not thank you, or any other Eng- 
 lishman that came here, to disturb it." 
 
 "I assure you I have no ambition to indulge in any such inter- 
 ference," said Merl, with a half-contemptuous laugh, 
 
 "And so you're not thinking of settling in Ireland?" asked 
 Crow, in some surprise. 
 
 " Never dreamed of it !"
 
 412 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 " "Well, the stoiy goes that you wanted to buy an estate, and came 
 down to bavc a look at this property here." 
 
 " I'd not live on it if Max-tin were to make me a present of it to- 
 moiTow." 
 
 "I don't think be will," said Crow, gravely. "lam afraid be 
 couldn't, if he wished it." ,; nniiijMn 
 
 -I "What, do you mean on account of the entail ?" asked Merl. 
 '-: " Not exactly." He paused, and after some sileuce said, " If the 
 truth were told, there's a great deal of debt on this property — more 
 than any one suspects." 
 &■_" The Captain's encumbrances ?" asked Merl, eagerly. 
 
 " His graudfother's and his great-grandfitber's ! As for the pre- 
 sent man, they say tliat he's tied up some way not to sell, except for 
 the sake of redeeming some of the mortgages. But who knows 
 what is true and what is false about all this ?" 
 "Merl was silent; grave fears were crossing his mind bow far bis 
 claims were valid ; and terrible misgivings shot across him lest the 
 Captain might have been paying him with valueless securities. 
 
 " I gather from what] you say," said be, at last, " that it would 
 be rather difiicult to make out a title for any purchaser of this 
 estate." 
 
 "Don't be afraid of that, Sir. They'll make you out a fair 
 title." ,,„.., 
 
 " I tell you again, I'd not take it as a present," said Merl, balf- 
 angrily. 
 
 o ;" I see," said Crow, nodding bis bead sententiously. And then 
 fixing his eyes steadily on him, he said, "Ton are a mortgagee." 
 
 Merl reddened — partly anger, partly shame. Indeed, the feeling 
 that such a capacity as Mr, Crow's should have pushed him hard, 
 was anything but complimentary to bis self-esteem. 
 
 "I don't want to pry into any man's affairs," said Crow, easily. 
 " Heaven knows, it's mighty little matter to Simmy Crow who lives 
 in the big bouse there. I'd rather, if I bad my choice, be able to 
 walk the Avood with my sketch-book and brushes, than be the richest 
 man that ever was beartsore with the cares of wealth." 
 "^i "And if a friend — a sincere, well-wishing friend — were to biud 
 himself that you should enjoy this same happiness you speak of, ISLv. 
 Crow, what would you do in return ?" 
 
 "^Anything he asked me — anything, at least, that a fair man could 
 ask, and an honest one could do." 
 
 "There's my hand on it, then," said Merl. "It's a bargaiu."
 
 THE MASTINS OF CEO' MAETIN". 410 
 
 "Ay,but Idt lis liea'r tlie conditions," said Crow. ""What could 
 I possibly serve you in, that would be worth this price?" 
 
 " Simply this : that you'll answer all my inquiries, so far as you 
 know, about this estate ; and where your knowledge fails, that you'll 
 endeavour to obtain the information for me.'?'''' aii Jimiii ^'aob i • 
 
 " Maybe I could tell you nothing at all — or next to nothing,"' said 
 Crow. "Just ask me, now, what's the kind of question you'd put, 
 for to tell truth, I'm not over bright or clever — th.e best of me is 
 when I've a canvas before me." ''■'!> '^i'&v^ R aVj-xodi .BIct m^vr/ iWmi 
 
 Merl peered stealthily at the speaker over the great folds of the 
 shawl that enveloped his throat ; he was not without his misgivings 
 that the artist was a " deep fellow," assuming a manner of simplicity 
 to draw him into a confidence. " And yet," he tliought, " liad he 
 really been shreAvd and cunning, he'd never have blurted out his 
 suspicion as to my being a mortgagee. Besides," said he to him- 
 self, " there, and with that fact, must end all his knowledge of me." 
 — " Toil can dine with mc to-day, Mr. Crow, can't you ?" ■ ■ " ^• 
 
 " I'm engaged to the stranger in !Xo. 4 — the man I'm making the 
 drawings for." 
 
 " But you could get oif. Ton could ask him to excuse you by 
 saying that something of importance required you elsewhere ?" 
 
 " And dine in the room underneath ?" asked Crow, with a comi- 
 cal look of distress at this suggestion. 
 
 " "Well, let us go somewliere else. Is there no other inn in the 
 neighbourhood?" 
 
 •'There's a small public-house near the gate of Cro' Martin, to 
 be sure." 
 
 " Then we'll dine there. I'll order a eliaise at four o'clock, and 
 we'll drive over together. And now, I'll just return to tlic house, 
 for this wading here is not much to my taste." 
 
 Mr. ]\Ierl returned gloomily to the house, his mind too deeply oc- 
 cupied with his own immediate interests to bestow any thouglit upon 
 Mary Martin. The weather assuredly offered but little inducement 
 to linger out of doors, for, as the morning Avore on, the rain and wind 
 increased in violence, while vast masses of mist swept over the sea 
 and were carried on shore, leaving only, at intervals, little patclies of 
 the village to be seen — dreary, storm-beaten, and desolate! Merl 
 shuddered, as he cast one last look at this sad-coloured picture, and 
 entered the inn. 
 
 Has it ever been your ill-fortune, good reader, to find yourself 
 alone in some dreary, unfrequented spot, the weather-bound denizen
 
 414 THE MAETIIS'S OF CEO' MAETI2s'. 
 
 of a sorrj inn, witliout books or newspapers, tlirown upon the re- 
 sources of jour own thoughts, so sure to take their colour from the 
 dreary scene around them ? It is a trying ordeal for the best of 
 tempers ! Tour man of business chafes and frets against the inac- 
 tivity — ^your man of leisure sorrows over monotony that makes idle- 
 ness a penalty. He whose thorouglifare in life is the pursuit of wealth 
 thinks of all those more fortunate than himself then hurrying on to 
 gain, while he who is the mark of the world's flatteries and atten- 
 tions laments over the dismal desolation of an uncompanionable 
 existence. 
 
 If Mr. Merl did not exactly occupy any one of these categories, 
 he fancied at least that he oscillated amidst them all. It was, indeed, 
 his good pleasure to imagine himself a " man upon town," who played 
 a little, discounted a little, dealt a little in old pictures, old china, old 
 cabinets, and old plate, but all for mere pastime — something, as he 
 would say, " to give him an interest in it" — and there, certainly, he 
 was right. Nothing so surely imparted an "interest" in Mr. Merl's 
 eyes as having an investment ! Objects of art, the greatest triumphs 
 of genius, landscape the richest eye ever ranged over, political events 
 that woiild have awakened a sense of patriotism in the dullest 
 and coldest, all came before him as simple questions of profit and 
 loss. 
 
 If he was not actually a philosopher, some of his views of life 
 were characterised by great shrewdness. He had remarked, for in- 
 stance, tliat the changeful foshious of the world are ever alternating ; 
 and that not only dress, and costume, and social customs undergo 
 mutations, but that objects of positive sterling value are liable to the 
 same wayward influences. "We are all modern to-day, to-morrow we 
 may be " Louis Quatorze," the next day " Cinque Ceuti" in our tastes. 
 Now we are mad after Italian art, yesterday the Dutch school was in 
 vogue. Our galleries, our libraries, our houses, our gardens, all feel 
 the caprices of these passing moods. There was but one thing that 
 ]\rr. Merl had perceived never changed, and that was the estimation 
 men felt for money. Eeligions might decay and states crumble, 
 thrones totter and kings be exiled, Cu^^ps might be depreciated and 
 marqueterie be held in mean esteem, but Gold was always within a 
 fraction at least of four pounds eleven shillings the ounce ! 
 
 He remarked, too, that men gradually grow tii-ed of almost every- 
 thing : the pursuits of the young are not those of the middle-aged, 
 stiU less of advanced life. The books which we once cried over 
 are now thrown down with languor ; the society we imagined per-
 
 THE MAETIIS^S OF CEO' MAETIN. ■ 415 i 
 
 fection we now smile at for its very absurdities. "VVe see vulgarity 
 where we once believed vigour ; wo detect exaggeration where we used 
 to attribute power. There is only one theme of which our estimation 
 never varies — "Wealth ! ]Mr. Merl had never yet met the man nor the 
 woman who really despised it ; nay, he had seen kings trafficking on 
 'Change. He had known great ministers deep speculators on the 
 Bourse ; valiant admirals, distinguished generals, learned judges, and 
 even divines had bought and sold with him, all eager iu the pursuit of 
 gain, and all emj)loying, to the best of their ability, the high faculties 
 of their intelligence to assist them in making crafty bargains. 
 
 If these experiences taught him the universal veneration men feel 
 for wealth, they also conveyed another lesson — Avhich was, the extreme 
 gullibility of mankind. He met every day men who ruled cabinets 
 and commanded fleets — the reputed great of the earth — and saw them 
 easier victims in his hand than the commonest capacity in " Leaden- 
 hall-street." They had the earliest information, but could not profit 
 by it; they never understood the temper on 'Change, knew nothing 
 of the variations of the money -barometer, and invariably fell into snares 
 that yoiu: City man never incurred. Hence Mr. Merl came to con- 
 ceive a very low generalopinion of what he himself called " the swells," 
 and a very high one of Herman Merl. 
 
 If we have dwelt upon these traits of this interesting individual in 
 this place, it is simply to place before our reader's mind the kind of 
 lucubrations such a man might be disposed to indulge in. In fact, 
 story-tellers like ourselves have very little pretension to go beyond 
 this narrow limit ; and having given to the reader the traits of a cha- 
 racter, they must leave their secret working more or less to his inge- 
 nuity. So much, however, we arc at liberty to declare, that Mr. 
 Merl was terribly bored, and made no scruple of confessing it. 
 
 " What the deuce are you staring at ? Is there anything really 
 to be seen in that confounded dreary sea ?" cried he, as Crow stood 
 shading his eyes from the lightning flashes, and intently gazing on the 
 scene without. 
 
 "That's one of the eflects Backhuysen was so fond of!" exclaimed 
 Crow, eagerly — " a sullen sea, lead-coloured and cold, with a white 
 curl just crisping the top of the waves, over it a dreary expanse of 
 dark sky, low-lying and black, till you come near the horizon, where 
 there is one faint line of greyish white, just enough to show that you 
 are on the wide, wide ocean, out of sight of land, and nothiug living 
 near, except that solitary sea-gull perched upon the breakers there. 
 There's real poetry in a bit like that ; it sets one a thinking over the
 
 416 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 desolation of those wliose life is little better tlian a voyage on such a 
 sea !" 
 
 " Better be dro"mied at once," broke in Merl, impatiently. 
 
 Crow started and looked at him, and had Merl but seen that glance, 
 so scornful and contemptuous was it, even his self-esteem might have 
 felt outraged. But he had not remarked it, and as little did he guess 
 what "was then passing in the poor artist's mind as Crow muttered to 
 himself, " I know one that will not be your guest to-day, if he dines 
 on a cold potato, or doesn't dine at all." 
 
 " Did I tell you," cried he, suddenly, "that there's no horses to 
 be had?" 
 
 " jS'o horses !" exclaimed Merl, " how so ?" 
 
 " There's a great trial going on at the Assizes to-day, and Mr. 
 Barry is gone on to Oughterard to hear it, and he has the only pair 
 of posters in the place." 
 
 " What a confounded hole !" burst out Merl, passionately. " That 
 I ever should have set my foot in it. How are we to get through 
 the day here ? Have you thought of anything to be done r"' 
 
 " ril go down and find out how poor Laudy is," said Crow, "for 
 Miss Mary's horse is still at the door, and he must be very bad in- 
 deed, or she wouldn't delay so long." 
 
 " And what if it should turn out the cholera, or typhus, or some- 
 thing as bad ?" 
 
 "Well?" said Crow, interrogatively, for he could not guess the 
 drift of the suggestion. 
 
 " Simply this, my worthy friend," resumed Merl : " that I have no 
 fancy for the pleasure of your company at dinner after such an excur- 
 sion as you speak of." 
 
 " I was just going to say that myself," said Crow. " Good-by!'* 
 And before Merl could interpose a word, he was gone.
 
 THE MAETISS OF CEO' MAETIN. 417 
 
 CHAPTEE XLI. 
 
 M R. M E R l's 31 E D I T A T I O N S. 
 
 OuE last chapter left Mr. Herman merl'm '6a3 company— -he -was 
 alone. iS'ow, very few men's thoughts are companionable in the 
 dreary solitude of a sorry inn. None of us, it is to be feared, are 
 totally exempt from " this world's crosses ;" and though the sorrows 
 of life do fall very imequally, the light afflictions are accepted as very 
 heavy burdens by those to whose lot they fall ! 
 
 Just as it happens, then, on some gloomy day of winter, when we 
 have " finished our book," and the newspapers are tiresome, we take 
 the opportunity to look through our letters and papers — to arrange 
 our desk, and put a little order in our scattered and littered memo- 
 randa, — somewhat in the same spirit will Conscience grasp a similar 
 moment to go over the past, glance at bygone events, and make, as 
 it were, a clearance of whatever weighs upon our memory. I'm not 
 quite certain that the best of us come out of this Bankruptcy Court 
 with a first-class certificate. Even the most merciful to his own 
 errors will acknowledge that in many things he should do difierently 
 were they to be done over again ; and he must, indeed, have fallen 
 upon a happy lot in life wlio has not some self-reproach on the score 
 of kindnesses unrequited — slight injuries either unforgiven or un- 
 equally avenged — friendships jeopardised, mayhap lost, by some mere 
 indulgence of temper — and enmities uncouciliatcd, just for lack of 
 the veriest sacrifice of self-love. 
 
 "Were there any such court in morals as in law, what a sad spectacle 
 would our schedule sliow, and how poor — even the most solvent 
 amongst us — if called on for a list of his liabilities ! 
 
 Lest our moralizing should grow uncomfortable, dear reader, let us 
 return to Mr. Merl, now occupied, as he was, in this same process of 
 self-examination. He sat witli a little note-book before him, re- 
 calling various incidents of the past ; and if the lowering expression 
 of his face might be trusted, his reveries were not rose-coloured, and 
 yet, as he turned over the pages, it might be seen that moments of 
 gratulation alternated with the intervals of self-reproach. 
 
 "Wednesday, the 10th," muttered he to himself, "dined at Philippe's 
 — supped with Arkriglit and Bailey — Avhist at double Xap. points — 
 won four hundred and ten — might have made it a thousand, but B. 
 
 2 £
 
 418 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 flung the cards out of tlio window in a passion, and liad to cease 
 playing. 
 
 " Thursday — toothaclie — stayed at home, and played piquet with 
 myself — discovered two new combinations, in taking in cards — Irving 
 came to see me — won from him twenty poimds his mother had just 
 sent him. 
 
 " Friday — a good day's work — walked into Martin for two thou- 
 sand seven hundred, and took his bill at three months, with promise 
 to renew — dined with Sitwell, and sold him my Perugino for six 
 hundred — cost myself not as many francs — am to have the refusal 
 of all Vanderbrett's cabinets for letting him off his match with 
 Columbine, which, by the way, he was sure to win, as Mope is dead 
 lame. 
 
 " Martin again — Saturday — came to have his revenge, but seemed 
 quarrelsome, so I affected an engagement, and declined play. 
 
 " Sunday — gave him his revenge, to the tune of twelve hundred in 
 my own favour — ' Lansquenet' in the evening at his rooms — several 
 swells present — thought it prudent to drop some tin, and so, lost one 
 hundred and forty Naps. — Sir Giles Bruce the chief winner — rich, 
 and within two months of being of age. 
 
 " Monday — the Perugino retiunied as a bad copy by !Fava — took 
 it at once, and said I was taken in myself — SitweR so pleased that 
 he sat down to ecarte, and lost two hundred to me. I dine with 
 him to-morrow. 
 
 " Tuesday — blank — dinner at Sitwell' s — met Colonel Cardie, whom 
 I saw at Hombourg, and so refused to play. It was, I suspect, a 
 plant of Sitwell' 8 to pit us against each other. 
 
 " "Wednesday — sold out my African at seventy-one and an eighth 
 — realised well, and bought in Poyais, which will rise for at least 
 ten days to come — took Can chard's chateau at Ghent for his old 
 debt at ecarte — don't like it, as it may be talked about. 
 
 " Gave a dinner to Wilson, Morris, Leader, Whyte, and Martin 
 — Lescour couldn't come — played little whist afterwards — changed 
 for hazard after supper — won a few Naps., and home to bed. 
 
 " Took Eigby's curricle and horses for the two hundred he owes 
 me — glad to have done with him — he evidently wanted a row — and 
 so play with him no more. 
 
 " Sent ten Naps, to the fund for the poor injured by the late 
 inundations, as the police called to ask about my passport, &c. 
 
 " Saturday — the Cure of St. Eochette, to ask for alms — gave three 
 hundred francs, and secured his services against the police — tae Cure
 
 THE MAETINS OF CllO' MARTIU". 419 
 
 mentions some curious drawings in the sacristy — promised to go 
 and see them. 
 
 " Bouglit Walrond's Library for a franc a volume — the Elzivirs alone 
 worth double the amoimt paid — Bailey bolted, and so lose his last 
 bills — Martin quarrelsome — said he never yet won at any sitting 
 wit;^h me — lost seventy to him, and sent him home satisfied. 
 
 " Gave five hundred francs for the drawings at St. E. — abomi- 
 nable daubs, but the police grow more troublesome every day — be- 
 sides, Crowthorpe is collecting early studies of Eembrandt — these 
 sketches are marked E. 
 
 " A great evening — cleared Martin out — suspect that this night's 
 work makes me an Irish estated Gentleman — must obtain legal 
 opinion as to these same Irish securities and post-obits, involving, as 
 they do, a heavy sum." 
 
 Mr. Merl paused at this entree in his diary, and began to reflect in 
 no very gratulatory mood on the little progress he had as yet made 
 in this same object of inquiry ; in fact, he was just discovering, what a 
 vast number of more shrewd observers than himself have long since 
 foiuid out, that exploring in Ireland is rather tough work. Every- 
 thing looks so easy, and simple, and plain upon the surface, and yet is 
 so puzzling and complicated beneath ; all seems so intelligible, where 
 there is nothing in reality that is not a contradiction. It is true he 
 was not harassing himself with problems of labour and wages, the 
 condition of the people, the eflfects of emigration, and so forth. He 
 wanted to ascertain some few facts as to the value of a certain estate, 
 and what encumbrances it might be charged with ; and to the questions 
 he put on this head, every reply was an insinuated interrogatory to 
 himself. "Why are you here, Mr. Merl?" " How does it concern 
 yoic ?" " What may be your interest in the same investigation ?" This 
 peculiar dialectic met him as he landed ; it followed him to the west. 
 Scanlan, the landlord, even that poor simpleton the painter — as he 
 called Crow — had submitted him to its harsh rule, till ]Mr. Merl felt 
 that, instead of pursuing an examination, he was himself everlastingly 
 in the witness-box. 
 
 "Wearied of these speculations, dissatisfied with himself and his 
 fruitless journey, he summoned the landlord to ask if that " old Gent" 
 above stairs had not a book of some kind, or a newspaper, he could 
 lend him. A ragged urchin speedily returned with a key in his hand, 
 saying, " That's the key of No. 4. Joe says you may go iip and 
 search for yourself." 
 
 One more scrupulous might not exactly have fancied the ofiicc thus 
 
 2e2
 
 420 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 suggested to liim. He, liowever, was rather pleased with the investiga- 
 tion, and, having satisfied hira self tliat the mission Avas safe, set forth 
 to fulfil it. No. 4, as the stranger's room was called, was a large and 
 lofty chamber, lighted by a single baj^-windou', the deep recess of 
 which was occupied by a writing-table. Boohs, maps, letters, and 
 drawings littered every part of the room ; costly weapons, too, such 
 as richly-chased daggers and inlaid pistols lay carelessly about, with 
 curiously-shaped pipes and gold-embroidered tobacco-bags ; a richly- 
 lined fur pelisse covered the sofa, and a skull-cap of the very finest 
 sable lay beside it. All these were signs of afiluence and comfort, 
 and Mr. Merl pondered over them as he went from place to place, 
 tossing over one thing after another, and losing himself in wild con- 
 jectures about the owner. 
 
 The writing-table, we have said, was thickly strewn with letters, 
 and to these he now addressed himself in all form, taking his seat 
 comfortably for the investigation. Many of the letters were in foreign 
 languages, and from remote and far-away lands. Some he was 
 enabled to spell out, but they referred to places and events he had 
 never heard of, and were filled with allusions he could not fathom. 
 At length, however, he came to documents which interested him more 
 closely. They were notes, most probably in the stranger's own hand, 
 of his late tour along the coast. Mournful records were they all — 
 sad stories of destitution and want, a whole people struck down by 
 famine and sickness, and a land perishing in utter misery. No 
 personal narrative broke the dreary monotony of these gloomy 
 records, and Merl searched in vain for what might give a clue to the 
 writer's station or his object. Carefully drawn-up statistics, tables 
 of the varying results of emigration, notes upon the tenure of land 
 and the price of labour were all there, interspersed with replies 
 from different quarters to researches of the writer's makiiig. Nume- 
 rous appeals to charity, entreaties for small loans of money, were 
 mingled with grateful acknowledgments for benefits already received. 
 There was much, had he been so minded, that Mr. Merl might have 
 learned in this same unauthorised inquiry. There were abundant 
 traits of the people displayed, strange insight into customs and ways 
 peculiar to them, accurate knowledge, too, of the evils of their social 
 condition, and, above aE, there were the evidences of that curious 
 compound of credulity and distrust, hope and fatalism, energy and 
 inertness, which make up the Irish nature. 
 
 He threw these aside, however, as themes that had no interest for 
 him. What had he to do with the people ? His care was with the 
 soil, and less even with it than with its burdens and encumbrances.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN, 421 
 
 One conviction certainly did impress itself strongly upon liim — 
 that lie'd part with his claims on tlie estate for almost anything, in 
 preference to himself assuming the cares and duties of an Irish land- 
 lord — a position -n-hich he summed up by muttering to himself, " is 
 simply to have so many acres of had land, with the charge of 
 feeding so many thousands of bad people." Here were suggestions, 
 it is true, how to make them better, coupled with details that showed 
 the writer to be one well acquainted with the difficulties of his task ; 
 here, also, were dark catalogues of crime, showing how destitution and 
 vice went hand iu hand, and that the seasons of sufiering were those 
 of lawlessness and violence. A^arious hands were detectable in these 
 documents. Some evinced the easy style and graceful penmanship of 
 education ; others were written in the gnarled hand of the daily 
 labourer. Many of these were underlined in what Merl soon detected 
 to be the stranger's own handwriting ; and brief as such remarks 
 were, they sufficed to show how carefully their contents had been 
 studied by him. 
 
 " What could be the object of all this research ? "Was he some 
 emissary of the Government, sent expressly to obtain this knowledge ? 
 Was he employed by some section of party politicians, or was he one 
 of those literary philanthropists who trade upon the cheap luxury 
 of pitying the poor and detailing tlieir sorrows? At all events," 
 thought Mr. Merl, " this same information seems to have cost him 
 considerable research, and not a little money ; and as I am under a 
 pledge to give the Captain some account of his dear country, here is 
 a capital opportiniity to do so, not only with ease, but actually with 
 honour." And liaving formed this resolve, he instantly proceeded to 
 its execution. That wonderful little note-book, with its strong silver 
 clasps, so full of strange and curious information, was now produced ; 
 but he soon saw that the various facts to be recorded demanded a 
 wider space, and so he set himself to WTite down on a loose slieet of 
 l^apcr notices of the land in tillage or in pasture, the numerical con- 
 dition of the people as compared with former years, their state, their 
 prospects ; but when he came to tell of the ravages made and still 
 making by pestilence amongst them, he actually stopped to re-read 
 the records, so terrible and astounding were the facts narrated. A 
 dreadful malady walked tlic land, and its victims lay in every hoiise ! 
 The villages were depopulated, the little clustoi's of houses at cross- 
 roads were stricken, the lone shoaling on the mountain side, tlie 
 miserable cottage of the dreary moor, were each the scenes of desola- 
 tion and dcatli. It was as though the land were about to be de- 
 vastated, and the race of man swept from its surfiice ! As he read on,
 
 422 THE MABTINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 he came upon some strictures in the stranger's own Land upon these 
 sad events, and perceived how terribly liad the deserted, neglected 
 state of the people aided the fatal course of the epidemic. No hospitals 
 had been provided, no stores of any remedial kind, not a doctor for 
 miles around, save an old physician who had been retained at Miss 
 Martin's special charge, and who was himself nigh exhausted by the 
 fatigue of his office. 
 
 Mr. Merl laid down his pen to think — not, indeed, in any compas- 
 sionate spirit of that suffering people ; his sorrows were not for those 
 who lay on beds of want and sickness ; his whole anxiety was for a 
 certain person very dear to his own heart, who had rashly accepted 
 seciudties on a property which, to all seeming, was verging upon ruin ; 
 this conviction being strongly impressed by the lawless state of the 
 country, and the hopelessness of expecting payment from a tenantry 
 so circumstanced. " Sympathy, indeed!" cried he ; " I should like to 
 hear of a little sympathy for the unlucky fellow who has accepted a 
 mortgage on this confounded estate ! These wretched creatiares have 
 little to lose — and even death itself ought to be no imwelcorae relief to 
 a life like theirs — but to a man such as I am, with abundance of pro- 
 jects for his spare casli, this is a pretty investment ! It is not im- 
 possible that this philanthropic stranger, whoever he be, might buy 
 up my bonds. He should have them a bargain — ay, by Jove! I'd take 
 off" a jolly per-centage to touch the ' ready ;' and who knows, what 
 with all his benevolence, his charity, and his Christian kindliness, if 
 he'd not come down handsomely to rescue this unhappy people from 
 the hands of a Jew !" 
 
 And Mr. Merl laughed pleasantly, for the conceit amused him, and 
 it sounded gratefully to his imagination that even his faith could be 
 put out to interest, and the tabernacle be turned to good account. 
 The noise of a chaise approaching at a sharp trot along the shingly 
 beach startled him from his musings, and he had barely time to 
 snatch up the paper on which he had scrawled his notes, and hasten 
 down stairs, when the obsequious landlord, rushing to the door, 
 ushered iu Mr. Barry, and welcomed him back again. 
 
 Merl suffered his door to stand ajar, that he might take a look at 
 the stranger as he passed. He was a very large, powerfully-built 
 man, somewhat stooped by age, but showing even in advanced years 
 signs of a vigorous frame and stout constitution ; his head was mas- 
 sive, and covered with snow-white hair, which descended on the back 
 of his neck ; his countenance must in youth have been handsome, and 
 even yet bore the expression of a frank, generous, but somewhat im- 
 petuous nature — so at least it struck him who now observed it — a cha-
 
 THE aiAETINS OF CEO' MABTIN. 423 
 
 racter not improbably aided bj his temper as be entered, for he bad 
 returned from scenes of misery and suffering, and was in a mood of 
 indignation at the neglect be bad just witnessed. 
 
 "You said truly," said be to the landlord ; " you told me I shouldn't 
 see a gentleman for twenty miles roimd, tbat all bad lied and left the 
 people to their fate, and I see now it is a fact." 
 
 " Fais, and no wonder," answered the host ; '' wet potatoes and the 
 shaking ague, not to speak of cholera morbus, isn't great inducements 
 to stay and keep company with. I'd be off too, if I had the means." 
 
 " But I spoke of gentlemen, Sir," said the stranger, with a strong 
 emphasis on the word — " men who should be the first to prove their 
 birth and blood when a season of peril was near." 
 
 "Tbrue for you, Sir," chimed in Joe, who suddenly detected the 
 blunder he had committed. " The Martins ought not to have run away 
 in the middle of our distress." 
 
 " They left the ship in a storm, they'll find a sorry wreck when they 
 return to it," muttered tlie stranger as he ascended the stairs. 
 
 "By Jacob! just what I suspected," said 3Ierl to bimseK, while be 
 closed his door ; " this property won't be worth sixpence, and I am 
 regularly ' done.' " 
 
 CHAPTEE XLn. 
 
 A NIGHT OF STORM. 
 
 The curtains were closely drawn, and a cheerful turf fire blazed in 
 the room where Mr. Merl sat at dinner. The fare was excellent, and 
 even rustic cookery sufficed to make fresh salmon, and mountain 
 mutton, and fat woodcocks delectable ; while the remains of jNIt. 
 Scanlan's hamper set forth some choice Madeira and several bottles 
 of Sneyd's claret. !Nor was be for whose entertainment these good 
 things were provided in any way incapable of enjoying them. AVith 
 the peculiar sensuality of his race, he loved his dinner all to himself, 
 and alone. He delighted in the privileged selfishness tbat isolation 
 conferred, and he revelled in a sort of complacent flattery at the 
 thought of all the people who were dining worse than himself, and 
 the stray thousands besides who were not destined on tbat day, to 
 dine at all. 
 
 The self-caressing shudder tbat came over bim as the sound of a
 
 424 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 liorse at speed on the sliore outside was heard, spoke plainly as words 
 themselves the pleasant comparison that crossed his mind between the 
 condition of the rider and his own. He drew nearer the fire, he threw 
 on a fresli log of pine, and, filling up a bumper, seemed to linger as he 
 viewed it, as though wishing health and innumerable blessings to Mr. 
 Ilerman Merl. 
 
 The noise of the clattering hoofs died away in distance and in the 
 greater uproar of the storm, and Mr. Merl thought no more of them ! 
 How often happens it, dear reader, that some brief interruption 
 flashes through our seasons of enjoyment ; we are startled, perhaps ; 
 we even need a word or two to reassure us that all is well, and then 
 the work of pleasure goes on, and we forget that it had ever been 
 retarded ; and yet, depend upon it, in that fleeting second of time 
 some sad episode of human life has, like a spectre, crossed our path, 
 and some deep sorrow gone wearily past us. 
 
 Let us follow that rider, then, who now, quitting the bleak shore, 
 has entered a deep gorge between the mountain ; the rain sweeps 
 along in torrents — the Avind in fitful gusts dashes the mountain 
 stream in many a wayward shape, and snaps the stem of old trees in 
 pieces — landslips and broken rocks impede the way, and yet that 
 brave horse holds ever onward, now stretching to a fast gallop, now 
 gathering himself to clear some foaming torrent, or some fragment of 
 fallen timber. 
 
 The night is so dark that the rider cannot see the horse's length in 
 advance ; but every feature of the way is well known, and an in- 
 stinctive sense of tlie peril to be apprehended at each particular spot 
 guides that hand and nerves that heart. Mary Martin — for she it is — 
 had ridden that same path at all seasons and all hours, but never on 
 a wilder night, nor through a more terrible hurricane than this. 
 At moments her speed relaxed, as if to breathe her horse ; and twice 
 slie pulled up short, to listen and distinguish between the sound of 
 thunder and the crashing noise of rocks rolling from the mountain. 
 There was a sublimity in the scene, lit up at moments by the light- 
 ning ; and a sense of peril, too, that exalted the adventurous spirit of 
 the girl, and imparted to her heart a high heroic feeling. The 
 glorious sentiment of confronting danger animated and excited her ; 
 and her courage rose with each new difiiculty of the way, till her very 
 brain seemed to reel with the wild transport of her emotions. 
 
 As she emerged from the gorge she gained a high table-land, over 
 which the wind swept unimpeded. Not a cliff", not a rock, not a 
 tree, broke the force of the gale, which raged with all the violence of 
 a storm at sea. Crouching low upon the saddle — stooping at times
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 425 
 
 to tlie mane — she could barely make way against tlie hurricane ; and 
 more than once her noble charger was driven backward, and forced to 
 turn his back to the storm. Her courage never failed. Taking advan- 
 tage of every passing lull, she dashed forward, ready to wheel and 
 halt when the wind shot past with violence. Descending at last 
 from this elevated "plateau," she again entered a deep cleft between 
 the mountain, the road littered with fallen earth and branches of 
 trees, so as almost to defy a passage. After traversing upwards of a 
 mile of this wearisome way, she arrived at the door of a small cabin, 
 the first trace of habitation since she had quitted the village. It was a 
 mere hovel, abutting against a rock, and in its dreary solitude seemed 
 the last refuge of direst poverty. 
 
 She bent down from her saddle to look in at the window ; but, 
 except some faint embers on the hearth, all was dark within. She 
 then knocked with her whip against the door, and called Morris two 
 or three times ; but no repl}-' w^as given. Springing from her horse, 
 Mary fastened the bridle to the hasp of the door-post, and entered. 
 The heavy breathing of one in deep sleep at once caught her atten- 
 tion, and, approaching the fireplace, she lighted a piece of pine- 
 wood to examine about her. On a low settle in one corner lay the 
 figure of a young woman, whose pale, pinched features contrasted 
 strongly with the bright ribbons of her cap floating loosely at eitlier 
 side. Mary tottered as she drew nigher ; a terrible sense of fear was 
 over her — a terror of she knew not what. She held tlie flickering 
 flame closer, and saw that she was dead ! Poor Margaret, she had 
 been one of Mary's chief favourites ; the very cap that now decked her 
 cold forehead was Mary's wedding-gift to her. But a few days before, 
 her little child had been carried to the churchyard ; and it was said 
 that the mother never held up her head after. Sick almost to 
 fainting, Mary Martin sank into a chair, and then saw, for the first 
 time, the figure of a man, who, half kneeling, lay with his head on 
 the foot of the bed, fast asleep ! Weariness, utter exhaustion, were 
 marked in his pale-worn features, while his attitude bespoke complete 
 prostration. His hand still clasped a little rosary. 
 
 It seemed but the other day that she had wished them "joy" upon 
 their wedding, and they had gone home to their little cabin in hopeful- 
 ness and high-hearted spirit, and there she lay now a cold corpse, and 
 he, bereaved and cliildless. AVhat a deal of sad philosophy do these 
 words reveal ! What dark contrasts do we brhig up when wc say, 
 " It was but the other day." It was but " the other day," and Cro' 
 Martin was the homo of one whose thriving tenautrv reflected back 
 all his eftbrts for their welfare, when movement and occupation
 
 426 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 bespoke a condition of activity and cheerful industry ; wlaen, even in 
 their poverty, the people bore bravely up. and the cases of suffering 
 but sufficed to call out traits of benevolence and kind feeling. It 
 was but " the other day," and Mary herself rode out amidst the 
 people, like some beloved Sovereign in the middle of her subjects ; 
 happy faces beamed brighter when she came, and even misery half 
 forgot itself in her presence. But " the other day," and the flag 
 waved proudly from the great tower, to show that Cro' Martin was 
 the residence of its owner, and Mary the life and soul of all that 
 household ! 
 
 Suchlike were her thoughts as she stood still gazing on the sad 
 scene before her. She could not bring herself to awaken the poor 
 fellow, who thus, perchance, stole a short respite from his sorrows ; 
 but leaving some money beside him on a chair, and taking one fare- 
 well look of poor Margaret, she stole silently away, and remounted 
 her horse. 
 
 Again she is away through the storm and the tempest ! Her pace is 
 now urged to speed, for she knows every field and every fence, where 
 to press her horse to his gallop, where, to spare and husband his 
 strength. At one moment she steals carefully along amid fragments 
 of fallen rocks and broken timber ; at another, she flies, with racing 
 speed, over the smooth sward. At length, through the gloom and 
 darkness, the tall towers of Cro' Martin are seen over the deep woods ; 
 but her horse's head is not turned thitherward. No ; she had taken 
 another direction, and, skirting the wall of the demesne, she is off 
 towards the wild, bleak country beyond. It is past midnight ; not a 
 light gleams from a cabin window [as she dashes past ; all is silent 
 save the plashing rain, which, though the wind has abated, continues 
 to fall in torrents. Crossing the bleak moor, whose yawning pits even 
 in daylight suggest care and watchfulness, she gains the foot of the 
 barren mountain on which Barnagheela stands, and descries in the 
 distance the flickering of a light dimly traceable through the falling 
 rain. 
 
 Tor the first time her horse shows signs of fatigue, and Mary 
 caresses him with her hand, and speaks encouragingly to him as she 
 slackens her pace, ascending the hill at a slow walk. After about 
 half an hour of this toilsome progress, for the surface is stony and 
 rock-covered, she reaches the little "boreen" road which forms the 
 approach to the house. Mary has never been there before, and ad- 
 vances now slowly and carefully between two rude walls of dry 
 masonry which lead to the hall- do or. As she nears the house, the 
 gleam of lights from between the ill-closed shutters attract her, and
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 427 
 
 suddenly, througli the swooping rain, come the sounds of several 
 voices in tones of riot and revelry. She listens ; and it is now the 
 rude burst of applause that breaks forth — a din of voices loudly pro- 
 claiming the hearty ajiproval of some sentiment or opinion. 
 
 While she halts to determine what course next to follow — for these 
 signs of revelry have disconcerted her — she hears a rough, loud voice 
 from within call out, " There's another toast you must drink now, 
 and fill for it to the brim. Come, Peter Hayes, no skulking ; the 
 liquor is good, and the sentiment the same. Gentlemen, you came 
 here to-night to honour my poor house — my ancestral house, I may 
 call it — on the victory we've gained over tyranny and oppression." 
 Loud cheers here interrupted him, but he resumed : " They tried — 
 by the aid of the law that they made themselves — to turn me out of 
 my house and home. They did all that false swearing and forged 
 writing could do, to drive one — me, Tom Magennis, the last of an 
 ancient stock — out upon the highways." (Groans from the hearers.) 
 " But they failed — ay, gentlemen, they failed. Old Eepton, with all 
 his skill, and Scanlan, with all his treachery, couldn't do it. Joe 
 Nelligan, like Goliath — no, like David, I mean — put a stone between 
 their two eyes, and laid them low." (Loud cheering, and cries of 
 "Why isn't he here?" "Where is he to-night?") "Ay, gentle- 
 men," resumed the speaker, " ye may well ask where is lie this 
 night ? when we are celebrating not only our triumph, but his ; for 
 it was the first brief he ever held — the first guinea he ever touched 
 for a fee ! I'll tell you where he is. Skulking — ay, that's the word 
 for it — skulking in Oughterard — hiding himself for shame because 
 he beat the Martins !" (Loud expressions of anger, and some of dis- 
 sent, here broke forth ; some inveighing against this cowardice, others 
 defending him against the charge.) " Say what you like," roared 
 Magennis, " I know, and he knows that I know it. What was it he 
 said when Mahony went to him with my brief ? ' I'll not refuse to 
 undertake the case,' said he, ' but I'll not lend myself to any scurri- 
 lous attack upon the family at Cro' Martin !' '' (Groans.) " Ay, but 
 listen," continued he : " ' And if I find,' said he — ' if I find that iu 
 the course of the case such an attempt should be made, I'll throw 
 down my brief, though I never should hold another.' There's Joe 
 Nelligan for you ! There's the stufl" you thought you'd make a 
 Patriot out of!" 
 
 " Say what you like, Tom Magennis, he's a credit to tlie town," 
 said old Hayes, " and lie won your cause this day against one of the 
 'cutest of the Dublin counsellors." 
 
 "He did so, Sir," resumed Magennis, "and he got his pay, and
 
 428 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 tliere's uotliiug between us ; and I told him so, and more besides ; for 
 I said, ' You may flatter tliem and crawl to tlicm ; you may be as ser- 
 vile as a serpent or a boa-constrictor to them ; but take my word for it, 
 Mister Joe — or Couusellor IS'clligan, if you like it better — they'll never 
 forget who and what you are — the son of old Dan there, of the High- 
 street — and you've a better chance to be the Chief Justice than the 
 husband of Mary Martin !' " 
 
 " Ton told him that !" cried several together. 
 
 " I did, Sir ; and I believe for a minute he meant to strike me : he 
 got pale Avith passion, and then he got red — blood red ; and, in that 
 thick way he has when he's angry, he said, ' Whatever may be my 
 hopes of the Bench, I'll not win my way to it by ever again under- 
 taking the cause of a rufllan !' ' Do you mean me /" said I — ' do you 
 mean me /" But he turned away into the house, and I never saw him 
 since. If it hadn't been for Father Neal there, I'd have had him 
 out for it. Sir!" 
 
 " AVe've other work before us than quarrelling amongst ourselves," 
 said the bland voice of Father Raftcrt}- ; " and now for your toast, 
 Tom, for I'm dry waiting for it." 
 
 "Here it is, then," cried Magcnnis. " A speedy downfal to the 
 Martins !" 
 
 " A speedy downfal to the Martins !" was repeated solemnly in 
 chorus ; while old Hayes interposed, " Barring the niece — barring 
 Miss Mary." 
 
 " I won't except one," cried Magennis. " My august leader re- 
 ]narked, ' It was false pity, for individuals destroyed the great revo- 
 lution of France.' It Avas " Mary did not wait for more, but, 
 
 turning her horse's head, moved slowly around towards the back of 
 the house. 
 
 Through a wide space, of which the rickety broken gate hung by 
 a single hinge, Mary entered a large yard, a court littered with 
 disabled carts, harrows, and other field implements, all equally un- 
 serviceable. Beneath a low shed along one of the walls stood three 
 or four horses, with harness on them, evidently belonging to the 
 guests assembled within. All these details were plainly visible by 
 the glare of an immense fire which blazed on the kitchen hearth, and 
 threw its light more than half-way across the yard. Having disposed 
 of her horse at one end of the shed, Mary stealthily drew nigh the 
 kitchen window, and looked in. And old, very old woman, in the 
 meanest attire, sat crouching beside the fire, and although she held a 
 huge wooden ladle in her hand, seemed, by her drooped head and 
 bent-down attitude, either moping or asleep. Various cooking uten-

 
 THE MAETINS OF CllO' MARTIN. 429 
 
 ails were on the fii'e, aud two or three joints of meat Lung roast- 
 ing before it, while the hearth was strewn with dishes, awaiting the 
 savoury fare that was to fill them. 
 
 These, and many otlier indications of the festivity then going on 
 within, Mary rapidly noticed ; but it was evident, from the increasing 
 eagerness of her gaze, that the object which she sought had not yet 
 met her eye. Suddenly, however, the door of the kitchen opened aud 
 a figure entered, on which the young girl bent all her attention. It 
 was Joan Landy, but how different from the half-timid, half-reckless 
 peasant girl that last we saw her. Dressed in a heavy gown of white 
 satin, looped up on either side with wreaths of flowers, and wearing a 
 rich lace cap ou her head, she rushed hurriedly in, lier face deeply 
 flushed, and her eyes sparkling with excitement. Hastily snatching 
 up a check-apron that lay on a cliair, she fastened it about her, and 
 drew near the fire. It was plain from her gesture, as she took the 
 ladle from the old woman's hand, that she was angry, and by her 
 manner seemed as if rebulcing her. The old crone, however, only 
 crouched lower, and spreading out her wasted fingers towards the 
 blaze, appeared insensible to everything addressed to her. Mean- 
 while Joan busied herself about the fire with all the zealous activity 
 of one accustomed to the task. Mary watched her intently ; she 
 scrutinised with piercing keenness every lineament of that face, now 
 moved by its passing emotions, and she muttered to herself, " Alas, 
 I have come in vain !" Nor was this depressing sentiment less felt 
 as Joan, turning from the fire, approaclied a fragment of a broken 
 loolung-glass that stood against the wall. Drawing herself up to her 
 fidl height, she stood gazing proudly, delightedly, at her own figure. 
 The humble apron, too, was speedily discarded, and as slic trampled 
 it beneath her feet she seemed to spurn the mean condition of which 
 it was the symbol. Mary ]\Iartin sighed deeply as she looked, and 
 muttered once more, " In vain !" 
 
 Then suddenly starting, with one of those bursts of energy which 
 so often had steeled her heart against peril, she Avalked to the kitchen- 
 door, raised the latch, and entered. She had made but one step 
 within the door when Joan turned and beheld lier, and there they 
 both stood, silently, each surveying the other. Mary felt too in- 
 tensely the difficulty of the task before her to utter a word without 
 well weighing the consequences. She knew how the merest accident 
 might frustrate all she had in view, and she stood hesitating aud un- 
 certain, while Joan, who now recognised her, vacillated between her 
 instinctive sense of respect and a feeling of defiance in the conscious-
 
 430 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 ness of whore she was. Happily for her, the former sentiment pre- 
 vailed, and in a tone of kindly anxiety Joan drew near her and said : 
 
 " Has anything happened ? I trust in God no accident has befel 
 you." 
 
 "Thank God, nothing worse than a wetting," said Mary — " some 
 little fatigue ; and I'll think but little of either if they have brought 
 me here to a good end. May I speak with you alone — quite alone ?" 
 
 " Come in here," said Joan, pushing open the door of a small room 
 oif the kitchen which served for a species of larder — " come in here." 
 
 " I have come on a sad errand," said Mary, taking her hand between 
 both her own, " and I would that it had fallen to any other than 
 myself. " It is for you to decide that I have not come in vain." 
 
 " "Wbat is it ? tell me what it is ?" cried Joan, as a sudden pale- 
 ness spread over her features. 
 
 " These are days of sorrow and mourning everywhere," said Mary, 
 gloomily. " Can you not guess what my tidings may be ? No, no," 
 cried she, as a sudden gesture of Joan interrupted her — " no, not yet ; 
 he is still alive, and entreats to see you." 
 
 " To curse me again, is it ?" cried the other, wildly — " to turn me 
 from the door, and pray down curses on me — is it for that he wants 
 to see me?" 
 
 " Not for that, indeed," said Mary ; " it is to see you — to give you 
 his last kiss — his last blessing — to forgive you and be forgiven. Re- 
 member that he is alone, deserted by all that once were his. Tour 
 father, and mother, and sisters are all gone to America, and poor old 
 Mat lingers on — nay, the journey is nigh ended. Oh, do not delay, 
 lest it be too late. Come now — now." 
 
 " And if I see him once, can I ever come back to this ?" cried Joan, 
 in bitter agony. " Will I ever be able to hear his words and live as 
 I do now ?" 
 
 " Let your own good heart guide you for that," cried Mary ; " all 
 I ask is, that you should see him and be with him. I have pledged 
 myself for your coming, and you will not dishonour my words to one 
 on his death-bed." 
 
 " And I'll be an outcast for it. Tom will drive me from the door 
 and never see me again. I know it — I know him /" 
 
 " You are wrong, Joan Landy." 
 
 " Joan ! — who dares to call me Joan Landy when I'm Mrs. Magennis 
 of Barnagheela ? and if Z'm not your equal, I'm as good as any other 
 in tbe barony. "Was it to insult me you came here to-night, to bring 
 up to me, who I am and where I came from ? That's the errand that
 
 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 431 
 
 brouglit you tlirougli the storm ! Ay," cried she, lashed to a wilder 
 passion by her owu words — "ay! — ay! and if you and yours had 
 their will we'd not have the roof to shelter us this night. It's only 
 to-day that we won the trial against you." 
 
 "Whatever my errand here this night," said Mary, with a calm 
 dignity, "it was meant to serve and not insult you. I know, as well 
 as your bitterest words can tell me, that this is not my place ; but I 
 know, too, if from any yielding to my selfish pride I had refused 
 your old grandfather this last request, it had been many a year of 
 bitter reproach to me." 
 
 " Oh, you'll break my heart, you will, you will !" cried Joan, bit- 
 terly. '' You'll turn the only one that's left against me, and I'll be 
 alone in the world." 
 
 "Come with me this night, and whatever happen I'll befriend 
 you," said Mary. 
 
 "And not desert me because I'm what I am ?" 
 
 " Never, Joan, never I" 
 
 " Oh ! my blessings on you — if the blessing of one like me is any 
 good," cried she, kissing IMary's hand fervently. " Oh ! they that 
 praised you said the truth ; you have goodness enough in your heart 
 to make up for us all ! I'll go with you to the world's end." 
 
 "We'll pass Cro' Martin, and you shall have my horse " 
 
 " No, no, Miss Mary ; I'll go on my feet, it best becomes me. I'll 
 go by Burnane — by the Gap — I know it well — too well!" added she, 
 as the tears rushed to her eyes. As she was speaking she took off 
 the cap she wore and threw it from her, and then removing her dress, 
 put on the coarse woollen gown of her daily wear. " Oh, God forgive 
 me!" cried she, "if I curse the day that I ever wore better than 
 this." 
 
 Mary assisted her with her dress, fastening the hood of her cloak 
 over her head, and preparing her, as best she might, for the severe 
 storm she was to encounter, and it was plain to see that Joan accepted 
 these little services without a thought of by whom they were ren- 
 dered, so intensely occupied was her mind by the enterprise before 
 her. A feverish haste to be away marked all she did. It was partly 
 terror lest her escape might be prevented ; partly a sense of distrust 
 in herself, and that she might abandon her own resolution. 
 
 " Oh, tell me," she cried, as the tears streamed from her eyes, and 
 her lips quivered with agony, " oh, tell me I'm doing right ; tell me 
 that God's blessing is going with me this niglit, or I can't do it." 
 
 "And so it is, dear Joan," said Mary; "be of good heart, and 
 Heaven will support you. I'm sure the trial is a sore one. 
 
 )>
 
 432 THE MABTINS OP CEO' MAETIX. 
 
 " Oil, is it uot to leave this — to leave liim — maybe for ever? To 
 be sure it's for ever," cried she, bitterly. " He'll uever forgive me !" 
 
 A wild burst of revelry now resounded from the parlour, and the 
 discordant sounds of lialf-drunken voices burst upon their ears. 
 
 Joan started, and gazed wildly around her. The agonised look of 
 her features bespoke her dread of deteetiou, and then, witb a bound, 
 slie sprung madly from the spot, and was away. Mary followed 
 quickly, but before she had secured her liorse and mounted, the other 
 was already half-way down tlie mountain. Now catching, now losing 
 sight of her again, Mary at last came up with her. 
 
 " Remember, dear Joan," said Mary, " there are nine weary miles 
 of mountain before you." 
 
 " I know it well," was the brief reply. 
 
 " And if you go by Burnaue the rocks are slippy with the rain, and 
 the path to the shore is full of danger." 
 
 " If I was afeard of danger would I be here ?" cried she. " Oh, 
 Miss Mary," added sbe, stopping and grasping her hand in both her 
 own, " leave me to myself — don't come with me — it's not one like 
 you ought to keep me company." 
 
 " But, Joan — dear Joan — I have promised to be your friend, and 
 I am not one who forgets a pledge." 
 
 " My heart will break — it will break in two if you talk to me. 
 Leave me, for the love of Heaven, and let me go my road all alone. 
 There, at the two trees there, is the way to Cro' Martin ; take it, and 
 may the Saints guide you safe home !" 
 
 " And if I do, Joan, will you promise me to come straight back to 
 Cro' Martin after you've seen him ? Will you do this ?" 
 
 " I will — I will!" cried she, bathing Mary's hand with her tears as 
 she kissed it. 
 
 " Then God bless and protect you, poor girl !" said Mary. " It is 
 not for me to dictate to your own full heart. Good-by — good-by." 
 
 Before Mary had dried the warm tears that rose to her eyes Joan 
 was gone.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 433 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 THE END OF A BAR MES8. 
 
 There are few things more puzzling to the uninitiated tlian the 
 total separation la-wyers are able to exercise between their private 
 sentiments and tlie emotions they display in the wear and tear of 
 tlieir profession. So widely apart are these two characters, that it is 
 actually difficult to understand how they ever can unite in one man. 
 But so it is. He can pass his morning in the most virulent assaults 
 upon his learned brother, ridiculing his law, laughing at his logic, 
 arraigning his motives — nay, sometimes ascribing to him some actu- 
 ally base and wicked. Altercations, heightened by all that passion 
 stimulated by wit can produce, ensue. Nothing that can taunt, 
 provoke, or irritate, is omitted; personalities even are introduced to 
 swell the acrimony of the contest ; and yet, when the jury have given 
 in their verdict and the court breaks up, the gladiators, who seemed 
 only thirsting for eacli other's blood, are seen laughingly going home- 
 ward arm-in-arm, mayhap discoursing over the very cause which, 
 but an hour back, seemed to have stamped them enemies for the rest 
 of life. 
 
 Doubtless there is a great deal to be pleased at in all this, and we 
 ought to rejoice in the admirable temper by which men can dis- 
 criminate between the faithful performance of a duty and the natural 
 coiu'se of their affections. Still, small-minded folk — of which wide 
 category we own ourselves to be a part — may liave their misgivings 
 that the excellence of this system is not without its alloy, and that 
 even the least ingenious of men will ultimately discover how much 
 principle is sapped, and how much truthfulness of character is sa- 
 crificed in this continual struggle between fiction and reality. 
 
 The Bar is the nursery of the Senate, and it would not be a very 
 fanciful speculation were we to ascribe the laxity of purpose, the 
 deficient earnestness, and the insincerity of principle we often de- 
 plore in our public men, to this same legal training. 
 
 The old Lawyer, however, finds no difficulty in the double character. 
 With his wig and gown ho puts on his sarcasm, his insolence, and his 
 incredulity. His brief bag opens to him a Pandora's box of noxious 
 
 2f
 
 434 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIIS'. 
 
 influences ; and as lie passes the precincts of the Court, he leaves 
 behind hiin all the amenities of life and all the charities of his 
 nature. The young Barrister does not find the transmutation so 
 easy. He gives himself unreservedly to his client, and does not 
 measure his ardour hy the instructions in his brief. Let us [ask 
 pardon of our reader for what may seem a mal ci j^rojws digression. ; 
 but we have been led to these remarks by the interests of our story. 
 
 It was in the large dining-room of the Martin Arms at Oughterard 
 that a party of lawyers spent the evening, some of whose events 
 elsewhere our last chapter has recorded. It was the Bar mess of the 
 "Western Circuit, and the chair was filled by no less a person than 
 "Father Eeptou." This able "leader" had determined not to visit 
 the west of Ireland so long as his friend Martin remained abroad ; 
 but a very xirgent entreaty from Scanlan, and a pressing request for 
 his presence, had induced him to waive that resolve, and come down 
 special to Oughtei'ard for the Magennis case. 
 
 A simple case of ejectment could scarcely have called for that 
 imposing array of learned counsel who had repaired to this unfre- 
 quented spot — so small a skirmish could never have called for the 
 horse, foot, and dragoons of law — the wily conveyancer, the clap- 
 trap orator, the browbcater of witnesses, and the light sharpshooter 
 at technicalities — and yet there they were all met, and — with- all 
 reverence be it spoken — very jolly companions they were. 
 
 An admirable rule precluded the introduction of, or even an allu- 
 sion to, professional subjects, save when the burden of a joke, whose 
 success might excuse the transgression ; and thus these crafty, keen 
 intelligences argued, disputed, jested, and disported together, in a 
 vein which less practised talkers would find ■ it hard to rival. To 
 the practice of these social amenities is doubtless ascribable the ab- 
 sence of any rancour from the rough contests and collisions of public 
 life, and thus men of every shade of politics and party, differing 
 even in class and condition, formed admirable social_elements, and 
 cohered together to perfection. 
 
 As the evening wore on, the company insensibly thinned off. Some 
 of the hard-workers retired early ; a few, whose affectation it was to 
 pretend engagements, followed ; the "juniors" repaired in different 
 groups to the chambers of their friends, where loo and brandy-and- 
 water awaited them; and at last Kepton was left, with only two 
 others, sole occupants of that spacious apartment. His companions 
 were like himself — soldiers of the " Vieille Garde" — veterans who 
 remembered Curran and Lawrence Parsons, John Toler and Saui'in,
 
 THE MAETINS Or CKO' MAETIK. 435 
 
 and a liost of others, wlio only needed that the sphere should have 
 been greater to be themselves among the great of the nation. 
 
 Eawlins was Eepton's schoolfellow, and had been his rival at the 
 Bar for nigh fifty years. Mel, a few years younger than either, 
 was the greatest orator of his time. Both had been opposed to 
 Eepton in the present suit, and had held heavy retainers for their 
 services. 
 
 "Well, Eepton," said Eawlins, as soon as they were left thus to 
 themselves, " are you pondering over it still ? I see that you can't 
 get it out of your head." 
 
 " It is quite true, I cannot," said Eepton. "To summon us all 
 down here — to bring us some fifty miles away from our accustomed 
 beat, for a trumpery afiair like this, is totally beyond me. Had it 
 been an election time, I should probably have understood it." 
 
 "How so?" cried Niel, in the shrill piercing voice peculiar to 
 him, and which imparted to him, even in society, an air of querulous 
 irritability. 
 
 " On the principle that Bob Mahon always puts a thorough-bred 
 horse in his gig when he drives over to a country race. He's always 
 ready for a match with what he jocularly calls ' the old screw I'm 
 driving this minute ;' so, Niel, I thought that the retainer for the 
 ejectment might have turned out to be a special fee for the election." 
 
 " And he'd have given them a speech, and a rare good one, too, I 
 promise you," said Eawlins; "and even if he had not time to speak 
 it, the comity paper would have had it all printed and corrected from 
 his own hand, with all the appropriate interruption of ' vociferous 
 cheering,' and the places where the orator was obliged to pause, from 
 the wild tumult of acclamation that surrounded him." 
 
 " AVhich all resolves itself into this," screamed Mel, "that some 
 men's after-grass is better than other men's meadows." 
 
 " Mine has fallen to the scythe many a day ago," said Eawlins, 
 plaintively ; " but I remember glorious times and glorious fellows. 
 It was, indeed, worth something to say ' Vixissi cum illis.' " 
 
 " There's another still better, Eawlins," cried Eepton, joyously, 
 " which is to have survived tliem !" 
 
 "Very true," cried Niel. "I'd always plead a demurrer to any 
 notice to quit, for, take it all in all, this life has many enjoyments." 
 
 " Such as Attorney- Generalships, Masters of the Eolls, and such 
 like," said Eepton. 
 
 " By the way," said Eawlins, " who put that squib in the papers 
 about your having refused the Eolls — eh, Niel?" 
 
 2f2
 
 436 THE MAETINS OF CKo' ilAETIN. 
 
 "Who but Niel himself," chimed in Eepton. "It was filing a 
 bill of discovery. He wanted to know the intentions of tlie Govern- 
 ment." 
 
 " I could have had but little doubt of them," broke in Niel. " It 
 was my advice, man, cancelled your appointment as Crown Counsel, 
 Eepton. I told Massingbred, ' If you do keep a watch-dog, let it be 
 at least one who'll bite some one beside the family.' " 
 
 " Ho has muzzled you there, Eepton," said Eawlins, laughing. 
 "Eh, that was a bitter draught!" 
 
 " So it was," said Eepton. " It was Curran wine run to the lees ! 
 and very unlike the racy flavour of the true liquor. And to speak in 
 all seriousness, what has come over us all to be thus degenerate and 
 fallen? It is not alone that we have not the equals of the first-rate 
 men, but we reaUy have nothing to compare with 0' Grady, and 
 Parsons, and a score of others." 
 
 " I'U tell you why," cried Niel — "the commodity isn't marketable. 
 The stupid men, who will always be the majority everywhere, have 
 got up the cry, that to be agreeable is to be vulgar. We know how 
 large cravats came into fashion ; tiresome people came in with high 
 neckcloths." 
 
 " I wish they'd go out with hempen ones, then," muttered Eepton. 
 
 " I'd not refuse them the benefit of the clergy," said Niel, with a 
 malicious twinkle of the eye, that showed how gladly, when occasion 
 oflered, he flung a pebble at the Church. 
 
 " They were very brilliant — they were very splendid, I own," said 
 Eawlins ; " but I have certain misgivings that they gave themselves 
 too much to society." 
 
 " Expended too much of their powder in fireworks," cried K"iel 
 sharply — " so they did ; but their rockets showed how high they 
 could rise to." 
 
 " Ay, jSTiel, and we only burn our fingers with ours," said Eepton, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 " Depend upon it," resumed Eawlins, "as tlie world grows more 
 practical, you will have less of great convivial display. Agreeability 
 will cease to be the prerogative of first-rate men, but be left to the 
 smart people of society, who earn their soup by their sayings." 
 
 " He's right," cried Niel, in his shrillest tone. " The age of 
 alchemists is gone ; the sleight-of-hand man and the juggler have suc- 
 ceeded him." 
 
 " And were they not alcliemists ?" exclaimed old Eepton, en- 
 thusiastically. "Did they not transmute the veriest dross of the
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 437 
 
 earth, and pour it forth from the crucible of their minds a stream of 
 liquid gold ? — glorious fellows, who, in the rich abundance of their 
 minds, brought the learning of their early days to illustrate the 
 wisdom of their age, and gave the fresh-heartedness of the schoolboy 
 to the ripe intelligence of manhood." 
 
 " And yet how little have they bequeathed to us !" said Niel. 
 
 ""Would it were even less," broke in Eepton. "We read the 
 witticism of brilliant conversers in some diary or journal, often ill re- 
 corded, imperfectly given, always unaccompanied by the accessories 
 of the scene wherein they occurred. "We have not the crash, the 
 tumult, the headlong flow of social intercourse, where the impromptu 
 fell like a tliunderbolt, and the bons mots rattled like a fire of 
 musketry. To attempt to convey an impression of these great talkers 
 by a memoir, is like to picture a battle by reading out a list of the 
 killed and wounded." 
 
 " Eepton is right !" exclaimed Niel. " The recorded bon mot is the 
 words of a song without the music." 
 
 " And often where the melody it was, that inspired the verses," 
 added Eepton, always glad to follow up an illustration. 
 
 "After all," said Eawlins, "the fashion of the day is changed in 
 other respects as well as in conversational excellence. Nothing is 
 like what we remember it ! — literature, dress, social habits, oratory. 
 There, for instance, was that young fellow to-day ; his speech to the 
 jury — a very good and sensible one, no doubt — but how unlike what 
 it would have been some five-and-thirty or forty years ago." 
 
 " It was first-rate," said Eepton, with enthusiasm. " I say it 
 frankly, and ' fas est ab lioste,' for he tripped me up in a point of law, 
 and I have therefore a riglit to applaud him. To tell you the truth," 
 he added, slily, " I knew I was making a revoke, but I thought none 
 of the players were shrewd enougli to detect me." 
 
 "Niel and I are doubtless much complimented by the remark," 
 said Eawlins. 
 
 " Pooh, pooh !" cried Eepton, " what did great guns like you and 
 Niel care for such ' small deer.' Tou were only brought down here as 
 a great corps de 7'eserve. It was young Nclligan who fought the battle, 
 and admirably he did it. While I was listening to him to-day, I 
 could not help saying to myself, ' It's well for us that there were no 
 fellows of this stamp in our day.' Ay, Eawlins, you luiow it well. 
 AYe Avere speech-makers — these fellows arc lawyers." 
 
 " Why didn't he dine with us to-day ?" asked Xiel, sharply. 
 
 " Heaven knows. I believe his father lives in the town here ;
 
 438 THE 3JAETINS OF CEO' MABTIN. 
 
 perhaps, too, he had no fancy for a dress-parade before such drill- 
 sergeants as you and Kawlins tliere," 
 
 " You are acquainted with him, I think ?" asked Eawlins. 
 
 " Yes, slightly ; -we met, strangely enough, at Cro' Martin last 
 year. He was then on a visit there ; a quiet, timid youth, who actually 
 seemed to feel as though his College successes were embarrassing 
 recollections in a society who knew nothing of Deans or Proctors. 
 There was another young fellow also there at the time — young Mas- 
 singbred — with about a tenth of this man's knowledge and a fiftieth 
 of his capacity, who took the lead of him on every subject, and by 
 the bare force of an admirable manner and a most unabashed im- 
 pudence, threw poor Nelligan completely into the background. It 
 was the same kind of thing I've often seen Niel there perform at the 
 Tour Courts, where he has actually picked up his law from a worsted 
 opponent, as a highwayman arms himself with the pistols of the man 
 he has robbed." 
 
 " I never pillaged i/oii, Eepton," said Niel, with a sarcastic smile. 
 "You had always the privilege the Poet ascribes to him who laughs 
 ' before a robber.' " 
 
 " Vacuus sed non Inanis," replied Eepton, laughing good- 
 humouredly. 
 
 "But tell us more of this man Nelligan," said Eawlins. "I'm 
 curious to hear about him." 
 
 " And so you are sure to do some of these days, Eawlins. That 
 fellow is the man to attain high eminence." 
 
 " His religion will stop him !" cried K'iel, sharply, for, being himself 
 a Eomanist, he was not sorry to have an opportunity of alluding to 
 the disqualifying element. 
 
 " Say, rather, it will promote him," chimed in Eepton. " Take my 
 word for it, Niel, there is a spirit of mawkish reparation abroad 
 which affects to feel that all your co-religionists have a long arrear 
 due to them, and that all the places and emoluments so long with- 
 held from their ancestors should be showered down upon the present 
 generation ; — pretty much upon the same principle that you'd pension 
 a man now because his grandfather had been hanged for rebellion !" 
 
 " And very justly too, if you discovered that what you once called 
 rebellion had been very good loyalty !" cried Niel. 
 
 " "We have not, however, made the discovery you speak of," said 
 Eepton ; " we have only commuted a sentence, in the sincere hope 
 that you are wiser than your forefathers. But to come back. You 
 may trust me when I say, that a day is coming when you'll not only
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN, 439 
 
 bless yourself because you're a Papist, but that you are one ! Ay, 
 Sir, it is in ' LifFey-street Chapel' we'll seek for an Attorney- 
 General, and out of the Church of the Conception, if that be the 
 name of it, we'll cull our Law advisers of the Crown. Eor the next 
 five-and-twenty years, at least," said he, solemnly, " the fourth-rate 
 Catholic will be preferred to the first-rate Protestant." 
 
 " I only hope you may be better at Prophecy than you are in 
 Logic," cried Niel, as he tossed off his glass ; " and so, I'm sure, does 
 Nelligan!" 
 
 " And Nelligan is exactly the man who will never need the pre- 
 ference, Sir. His abilities will raise him, even if there were obstacles 
 to be surmounted. It is men of a different stamp that the system 
 will favour — fellows without industry for the toils of a laborious 
 profession, or talents for the subtleties of a difficult career ; men who 
 cherish ambition and are yet void of capacity, and will plead the old 
 disabilities of their faith — pretty much as a man might claim his 
 right to be thought a good dancer because his father had a club 
 foot." 
 
 " A most lame conclusion !" cried Niel. " Ah, Eawlins," added 
 he, with much compassion, " our poor friend here is breaking terribly. 
 Sad signs there are of decay about him. Even his utterance begins 
 to fail him." 
 
 " 'No, no," said Eepton, gaily. " I know what you allude to. It is 
 an old imperfection of mine not to be able to enunciate the letter r 
 correctly, and that Avas the reason to-day, in Court, that I called you 
 my ingenious Bother ; but I meant Brother, I assure you." 
 
 They all laughed good-humouredly at the old man's sally ; in good 
 truth, so trained were they to these sort of combats, that they cared 
 little for the wounds such warfare inflicted. And although the tilt 
 was ever understood as with "reversed lances," none ever cherished 
 an evil memory if an unlucky stroke smote too heavily. 
 
 " I have asked young Nelligan to breakfast with me to-morrow," 
 said Eepton ; " will you both come and meet him ?" 
 
 " AVe'rc off at cock-crow !" cried Niel. " Tell him, however, from 
 me, that I am delighted Avith his (h'hicf, and that all the best wishes 
 of my friends and myself are with him." 
 
 And so they parted. 
 
 Eepton, however, did not retire to bed at once ; his mind was still 
 intent upon the subject Avhich had engaged him during the day, and 
 as he walked to and fro in his room, he still dwelt upon it. Scaulan's 
 instructions had. led him to believe that the Martins were in this case
 
 4i0 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 to bave bccu " put upon their title ;" and the formidable array of coun- 
 sel employed by Magennis seemed to favour the impression. Now it 
 was true that a triftiug informality in the service of tlie writ bad 
 quashed the proceedings for the present, but the question remained, 
 " Was the great struggle only reserved for a future day?" It was 
 clear that a man embarrassed as was Magennis could never have 
 retained that strong bar of eminent lawyers. I'roin what fund, then, 
 came these resoiu'ces ? "Was tlierc a combination at work ? And if 
 so, to what end, and with what object ? 
 
 The crafty old lawyer pondered long and patiently over these 
 things. His feelings might not inaptly be compared to those of a 
 commandant of a garrison, who sees his stronghold menaced by an 
 enemy he had never suspected. Confident as he is in the resources 
 of his position, he yet cannot resist the impression that the very 
 tlireat of attack has been prompted by some weakness of which he is 
 unaware. 
 
 " To put us on our title," said he, " implies a great war. Let us 
 try and find out who and what are they who presume to declare it !" 
 
 CHAPTER XLIY. 
 
 A FIRST BRIEF. 
 
 The reader has been already told that Joe jSTelligan had achieved 
 a gi-eat success in his first case. A disputed point of law had been 
 raised, in itself insignificant, but involving in its train a vast variety 
 of momentous interests. Eepton, with an ingenuity all his own, had 
 contrived to draw the discussion beyond its oi-iginal limits, that he 
 might entangle and embarrass the ambitious junior who had dared to 
 confute him. Nelligan accepted the challenge at once, and after a 
 stormy discussion of some hours came out the victor. Por a while 
 liis timid manner, and an overpowering sense of the great odds 
 against him, seemed to weigh oppressively on him. The very suc- 
 cesses he had won elsewhere were really so many disparagements to 
 him now, giving promise, as it were, of his ability. But, despite all 
 these disadvantages, he entered the lists manfully and courageously. 
 
 AVhat a many-sided virtue is this same courage ! and how prone is 
 the world to award its praises unequally for it. AVe are enthusiastic
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 441 
 
 for the gallant soldier tlie earliest iu the breach, or the glorious 
 sailor who first jumps upon the enemy's quarter-deck, and yet we 
 never dream of investing with heroism him who dares to combat with 
 the most powerful intellects of debate, or enters the field of argument 
 against minds stored with vast resources of knowledge, and practised 
 in all the subtleties of disputation. 
 
 It is true, existence is not in the issue, but are there not things a 
 thousand times dearer than life at peril ? Think of him who has gone 
 on from success to success — whose school triumphs have but heralded 
 the riper glories of College life — who, rising with each new victory, is 
 hailed by that dearest and best of all testimonies, the prideful enthu- 
 siasm of his own age. Fancy him, the victor in every struggle, who 
 has carried all before him — the vaunted chief of his contemporaries — 
 fancy him beaten and worsted on his first real field of action ! Imagine 
 such a man, with all the prestige of his College fame, rudely encoun- 
 tered and overcome in the contest of public life, and say if any death 
 ever equalled the sufiering ! 
 
 Happily, our task has not to record any such failure in the 
 present case. Young Nelligan sat down amidst the buzzing sound 
 of approving voices, and received a warm eulogy from the Court on 
 the promise of so conspicuous an opening. And a proud man was 
 Dan Nelligan on that day ! At any other time how deeply honoured 
 had he felt by the distinguished notice of the great dignitaries who 
 now congratulated him on his son's success. With what pride had 
 he accepted the polite recognition of Chief Barons and silk-gowned 
 "leaders!" Now, however, his heart had but room for one thought 
 — Joe himself — his own boy — the little child as it were of yesterday 
 now a man of mark and note, ali-cady stamped with the impress of 
 success in what, to every Irishman's heart at least, is the first of all 
 professions. The High Sheriff' shook old jN'elligan's hand in open 
 court, and said, " It is an honour to our county, Nelligan, to claim 
 him." The Judge sent a message that he wished to see him in his 
 robing-room, and spoke his warm praises of " tlie admirable speech, 
 as remarkable for its legal soundness as for its eloquence;" and 
 Eepton overtook him iu the street, and, catching his hand, said, '• Be 
 proud of him. Sir ; for we are all proud of him." 
 
 Mayhap the hope is not a too ambitious one, that some one of 
 those who may glance over these humble lines may himself have onco 
 stood in the position of Joe Kelligan, in so far as regards the hour 
 of his triumph ! and have felt iu his heart the ecstasy of covcriug 
 with his fame the " dear head" of a lather. If so, I ask him boldly —
 
 442 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN". 
 
 whatever may have been the high rewards of his later life — whatever 
 honours may have been showered upon him, however great his 
 career, and however brilliant its recognitions — has he ever, in his 
 proudest moment, tasted such a glorious thrill of delight as when he 
 has fallen into his father's arms, overcome by the happiness that he 
 has made that father proud of him ? Oh ye who have experienced 
 this thrill of joy within you, cherish and preserve it. The most 
 glowing eulogies of eloquence, the most ornate paragraphs of a 
 flattering press, are sorry things in comparison to it. !For ourselves, 
 we had rather have been Joe Nelligan when, with his father's warm 
 tears dimming his eyes, he said, "God bless you, my boy!" than 
 have gained all the honours that even talents like his can command ! 
 
 He could not bear to absent himself from home on that day ; and 
 although his father would gladly have celebrated his triumph by 
 gathering his friends about him, Joe entreated that they might be 
 alone. And they were so. The great excitement of the day over, a 
 sense of weariness, almost sadness, stole over the young man, and while 
 his father continued to relate for his mother's hearing various little 
 incidents of the trial, he listened with a half apathetic dreaminess, as 
 though the theme oppressed him. . The old man dwelt with delight 
 on the flattering attention bestowed by the Court on Joseph's ad- 
 dress — the signs of concurrence vouchsafed from time to time by the 
 Bench — the approving murmur of the Bar while he spoke — and then 
 the honest outburst of enthusiasm that shook the very walls as he 
 concluded. "I tried," continued Dan Nelligan — "I tried to force 
 my way through the crowd and come and tell you that he gained the 
 day, but I couldn't, they were all around me, shaking my hands, 
 patting me on the shoulders, and saying, as if I didn't know it in my 
 own heart, ' He'll make you a proud man yet, Mr. Nelligan.' " 
 
 " I heard it all, five minutes after it was over," said Mrs. Nelligan ; 
 "and you'd never guess Avho told me." 
 
 " Counsellor Walsh," cried Nelligan. 
 
 " No, indeed; I never seen him." 
 
 " It was Hosey Lynch, then, for I saw him running lilie mad 
 through the town, spreading the news everywhere." 
 
 " It was not Hosey," said she, half contemptuously. "I wish, Joe, 
 you'd give a guess yourself who told me." 
 
 " Guess, mother — guess who told you what ?" said he, suddenly 
 starting from some deep meditation. 
 
 " Who told me that you won the cause, and beat all the great coun- 
 sellors from Dublin."
 
 THE MAETLNS OF CEO' ilAETIN. 443 
 
 " I'm sure, mother, it would be hard for me to say," said Joseph, 
 smiling faintly ; " some one of our kind townsfolk, perhaps. leather 
 Neal, old Peter Hayes, or " 
 
 " I'U just tell you at once," broke she in, half irritated at the sug- 
 gested source of her information. " It was Miss Mary herself, and 
 no other." 
 
 " Miss Martin !" exclaimed old Kelligan. 
 
 ''Miss Mary Mai'tiu !" echoed Joe, while a sickly paleness crept 
 over his features, and his lips tvembled as he spoke. 
 
 "How came you to see her? "Where was she?" asked Nelligan, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I'U tell you," replied she, with all the methodical preparation by 
 which she heralded in the least important communications — " I'U tell 
 you. I was sitting here, working at the window, and wondering when 
 the trial would be over, for the goose that was for dinner was too near 
 the fire, and I said to myself- " 
 
 "Never mind what you said to youi'self — confound the goose," 
 broke in old Dan, fiercely. 
 
 " Faith, then, I'd like to know if you'd be pleased to eat your 
 dinner on the cold loin of veal " 
 
 "But Miss Martin, mother — Miss Martin," urged Joe, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " I'm coming to her, if you'll let me ; but when you flurry me and 
 frighten me, I'm ready to faint. It was last Candlemas you gave 
 me a start, Dan, about — what was it, now ? Lucky Mason's dog, I 
 believe. No, it was the chimney took fii'e " 
 
 "TVUl you just go back to Miss Martin, if you please," said old 
 NeUigan, sternly. 
 
 " I wish I knew where I was — what I was saying last," said she, in 
 a tone of deep sorrow and contrition. 
 
 " Tou were going to say how Miss Mary told you aU about the 
 trial, mother," said Joe, taking her hand kindly Avithin his own. 
 
 " Yes, darling ; now I remember it aU. I was sitting here at the 
 window liemming them handkerchiefs of yours, and I heard a sharp 
 sound of a horse coming along quick, and, by the way, he cantered. 
 I said to myself, ' I know you :' and sure enough, when I opened the 
 window, there she was, Miss Mary herself, all dripping with wet, and 
 her hat flattened on her face, at the door. 
 
 " ' Don't ask me to get down, Mrs. Xelligan,' said she, ' for I'm 
 in a great hurry. I have to ride out to Kilkieran with this' — and 
 she showed me a bottle she had in the pocket of her saddle. ' I only
 
 444 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN, 
 
 called to tell you that your sou has gaiued auother ' "What was 
 
 it she called it?— a victory, or a battle— no, it was something 
 else " 
 
 " Never mind— go on," cried Joe ; " and then ?" 
 
 " ' But, my dear Miss Mary,' says I, ' you're wet through and 
 through. It's more than your life's worth to go off now another 
 ten miles. I'll send our gossoon, Mickey Slater, with the medicine, 
 if you'll just come in and stay with us.' I didn't say to dinner, for 
 I was ashamed to ask her to do that. 
 
 " ' I should be delighted, Mrs. Nelligan,' said she, ' but it is im- 
 possible, to-day. I'd have stayed and asked you for my dinner' — her 
 very words—' asked you for my dinner, but I have promised poor 
 Mat Landy to go back to him. But perhaps it is as well as it is ; 
 and my Aunt Dorothy might say, if she heard of it, that it was a 
 strange choice I had made of a festive occasion — the day on which 
 we were beaten, and the society of him that worsted us.' 
 
 " ' Oh, but. Miss Mary,' says I, ' sure you don't think the worse 
 of poor Joe ' 
 
 " ' I never thought more highly of him, my dear Mrs. Nelligan,' 
 said she, ' than at this moment ; and whatever others may say or 
 think, I'll maintain my opinion, that he is a credit to us all. 
 Grood-by ! good-by !' and then she turned short round, and said, ' I 
 can't answer for how my uncle may feel about what has occurred 
 to-day, but you know my sentiments. Farewell !' And with that she 
 was off : indeed, before I liad time to shut down the window, she was 
 out of siglit and away." 
 
 " She ought to know, and she will know, that Joe never said one 
 hard thing of her family. And though he had in his brief enough to 
 tempt him to bring the Martins up for judgment, not a word, not 
 a syllabic did he utter." This old Nelligau spoke Avith a proud con- 
 sciousness of his son's honourable conduct. 
 
 " Good Heavens !" exclaimed Joe, " is it not enough that a man 
 sells his intellect, pawns his capacity, and makes traffic of his brains, 
 without being called on to market his very nature, and set up his 
 very emotions for sale ? If my calling demands this at my hands, I 
 have done with it — I renounce it !" 
 
 " But I said you refrained, Joe. I remarked that you would not 
 suffer the heat of discussion to draw you into an angry attack " 
 
 " And you praise me for it !" broke in Joe, passionately. " You 
 deem it an occasion to compliment me, that, in defending the cause 
 of a worthless debauchee, I did not seize with avidity the happy
 
 THE MAETINS OP CEO' MARTIN. 445 
 
 moment to assail an honourable gentleman ; and not alone yon, but 
 a dozen others congratulated me on this reserve — this constraint — 
 as though the Lawyer were but a Bravo, and his stiletto once paid 
 for, he must produce the body of his victim. I regard my profession 
 in another and a higher liglit ; but if even its practice were the 
 noblest that could engage human faculties, and its rewards the 
 highest that could crown them, I'd quit it to-morrow, were its price 
 to be the sacrifice of an honourable self-esteem and the regard of — of 
 those we care for." And in the difficult utterance of the last words 
 his cheek became crimson, and his lip trembled. 
 
 " I'll tell you what you'll do, Joe," said his mother, whose kind- 
 ness was not invariably distinguished by tact — "just come over with 
 i)w to-morrow to Cro' Martin. I'm going to get slips of the oak-leaf 
 geranium and the dwarf rose, and we'll just go together in a fi'iendly 
 way, and when we're there you'll have some opportunity or other to • 
 tell Miss Mary that it wasn't your fault for being against them." 
 
 " He'll do no such thing," broke in Nelligan, fiercely. " Miss Mary 
 IMartin wants no apologies — her family have no right to any. Joe is 
 a member of a high and powerful profession. If he doesn't fill as 
 great a place now, who knows where he'll not be this day fifteen 
 years, eh, my boy ? Maybe I'll not be here to see — indeed, it's more 
 than likely I'll not — but I know it now. I feel as sure of it as I do 
 that my name's Dan." 
 
 " And if you are not to see it, father," said Joo, as he pressed 
 his father's hand between both his own — "you and my dearest 
 mother — the prize will be nigh valueless. If I cannot, when my 
 reward is won, come home — to such a home as this — the victory will 
 be too late." And so saying he rose abruptly, and hurried from the 
 room. The moment after he had locked his door, and, flinging himself 
 upon his bed, buried his face between his hands. 
 
 "With all the proud sensations of having achieved a great success, 
 his heart was heavily oppressed. It seemed to him as though Des- 
 tiny had decreed that his duty should ever place him in antagonism 
 to his affections. Up to a short period before this trial came on he 
 had frequently been in INIiss Martin's company. Now, it was some 
 trifiing message for his mother ; now, some book he had himself pro- 
 mised to fetch her ; then visits to the sick — and Joe, latterly, had 
 taken a most benevolent turn — had constantly brought them toge- 
 ther ; and often, when INIary was on foot, Joe had accompanied her 
 to the gates of the demesne. In these meetings one subject usually 
 occupied them — the sad condition of the country, the destitution of
 
 ■146 THE MAB.TINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 the poor — and on this theme their sympathies, and hopes, and fears 
 all agreed. It was not only tliat they concurred in their views of 
 the national character, but that they attributed its traits of good or 
 evil to the very same causes ; and while Nelligan was amazed at 
 finding the daughter of a proud house deeply conversant with the 
 daily life of the humblest peasant, she, too, was astonished how sin- 
 cere in his respect for rank, how loyal in his devotion to the claims 
 of blood, was one whose birth might have proclaimed him a democrat 
 and a destroyer. 
 
 These daily discussions led them closer and closer to each other, 
 till at length confidences grew up between them, and Mary owned to 
 many of tlie difficulties that her lone and solitary station exposed her 
 to. Many things were done on the property without — some in direct 
 opposition to — her concurrence. As she once said herself, " "We are 
 so ready to satisfy our consciences by assuming that whatever we 
 may do legally we have a right to do morally, and at the same time, 
 in the actual condition of Ireland, what is just may be practically 
 the very heaviest of all hardships." This observation was made 
 with reference to some law proceedings of Scanlan's instituting, and 
 the day after she chanced to make it Joe started for Dublin. It 
 was there that Magennis's attorney had sent him the brief in that 
 cause — a charge which the etiquette of his profession precluded his 
 declining. 
 
 In what way he discharged the trust wo have seen — what sorrow 
 it cost him is more than we can describe. " Miss Martin," thought 
 he, " would know nothing of the rules which prescribe our practice, 
 and will look upon my conduct here as a treason. Eor weeks long 
 she has conversed with me in candour over the state of the county 
 and its people ; we separate for a few days, and she finds me arrayed 
 with others against the interests of her family, and actually paid toem- 
 ploy against her the very knowledge she has imparted to me ! What 
 a career have I chosen," cried he, in his agony, " if every success is 
 to be purchased at such a price !" With such men as Magennis he 
 had nothing in common ; their society, their habits, their opinions 
 were all distasteful to him, and yet it was for him and his he was to 
 sacrifice the dearest hope of his heart— to lose the good esteem of one 
 whose praise he had accounted more costly than the highest distinc- 
 tion a Sovereign could bestow on him. " And what a false position 
 mine!" cried he again. " Associated by the very closest ties with 
 a party, not one of whose objects have my sympathies, I see myself 
 separated by blood, birth, and station, from ail that I venerate and
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 447 
 
 respect. I must eithex* be a traitor to my own, or to myself; declare 
 my enmity to all I ttink most highly of, or suffer my motives to be 
 impugned, and my fame tarnished." 
 
 There was, indeed, one circumstance in this transaction which dis- 
 pleased him greatly, and of which he was only aware when too late. 
 The Magennis defence had been " got up" by a subscription — a 
 fund to which Joseph's own father had contributed. Amongst the 
 machinery of attack upon the landed gentry. Father Neal Eafferty 
 had suggested the expediency of "putting them on their titles" in 
 cases the most trivial and insignificant. Forfeiture and confiscation 
 had followed each other so frequently in Irish history — grants and 
 revocations were so mixed up together — some, attested in all for- 
 mality, others, irregular and imperfect — that it was currently believed 
 there was scarcely one single estate of the Avhole province could 
 establish a clear and indisputable title. The project was, therefore, 
 a bold one which, while disturbing the rights of property, should 
 also bring under discussion so many vexed questions of English rule 
 and tyranny over the Irish. Libraries and cabinets were ransacked 
 for ancient maps of the counties ; and old records were consulted to 
 ascertain how far the original conditions of service, and so forth, had 
 been complied with, on which these estates were held. 
 
 Joseph had frequently carried home books from the library of Cro' 
 Martin, rare and curious volumes, which bore upon the ancient 
 history of the country. And now there crossed him the horrible 
 suspicion that the whole scheme of this attack might be laid to his 
 charge, the information to substantiate which he had thus surrepti- 
 tiously obtained. It was clear enough, from what his mother had 
 said, that such was not Miss Martin's present impression; but who 
 could say what representations might be made io her, and what 
 change eftected in her sentiments ? " And this," cried he, in indigna- 
 tion — " and this is the great career I used to long for ! — this the 
 broad highway I once fancied was to lead me to honour and distinc- 
 tion ! Or is it, after all, my own fault, for endeavouring to reconcile 
 two things which never can have any agreement — an humble origin 
 and high aspirings? Were I an Englishman, the diflBculty would 
 not be impassable; but here, in Ireland, the brand of a lowly 
 fortune and a despised race is upon me. Can I — dare I resist it ?" 
 
 A long and arduous conflict was that in which he passed the 
 night — now, inclining to abandon his profession for ever, now, to 
 leave Ireland, and join the English or some Colonial Bar ; and at 
 length, as day was breaking, and as though the fresh morning air
 
 44-8 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 which now blew upon him from his open window had given fresh energy 
 to his nature, he determined lie would persist in his career in his 
 own country. " Jiy fate shall be an example or a warning!" cried 
 he. " They who come after me shall know whether there be rewards 
 within reach of honest toil and steady industry without the conta- 
 mination of a mock patriotism ! 1? 1 do rise, it shall be from no aid 
 derived from a party or a faction ; and, if I fail, I bring no discredit 
 upon 'my order.' " 
 
 There are men who can so discipline their minds, that they have 
 but to establish a law to their actions to make their whole lives " a 
 system." Such individuals the Germans not inaptly call " self-con- 
 tained men," and of these was Joe Nelligan one. 
 
 A certain concentration of his faculties, and the fatigues of a whole 
 night passed thus in thought, gave a careworn, exhausted look to hi» 
 features as he entered the room where Repton sat awaiting him for 
 breakfast. 
 
 " I see what's the matter with you," said the old Lawyer, as he 
 entered. " You have passed the night after a ' first brief.' Tliis day 
 ten years you'll speak five hours before the Lords ' in error,' and 
 never lose a Avink of sleep after it's over !"
 
 iLi/^X^' 
 
 \ ^"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 449 
 
 CHAPTEE XLY. 
 
 5IR. REPTON LOOKS IN. 
 
 Ok the day after that some of whose events we have just recorded, 
 and towards nightfall, JMary Martin slowly drove along the darkly- 
 wooded avenue of Cro' Martin. An unusual sadness dverweighed 
 her. She was just returning from the funeral of poor old Mat Landy, 
 one of her oldest favourites as a child. He it was who first taught 
 her to hold an oar ; and, seated beside him, she first learned to steer 
 a " corragh" througli the wild waves of the Atlantic. His honest, 
 simple nature, his fine manly contentedness with a very humble lot, 
 and a cheerful gaiety of heart tliat seemed never to desert him, were 
 all traits likely to impress such a child as she had been, and make his 
 companionship a pleasure. With a heavy heart was it, therefore, 
 now that she thought over these things, muttering to herself as she 
 went along snatches of the old songs he used to sing, and repeating 
 mournfully the little simple proverbs he would utter about the 
 weather. 
 
 The last scene itself had been singularly mournful. Two fisher- 
 men of the coast alone accompanied the car which bore the cofiiu ; 
 death or sickness was in every house ; few could be spared to 
 minister to the dead, and even of those, the pale shrunk features 
 and tottering limbs bespoke how dearly the duty cost them. Old 
 Mat had chosen for his last resting-place a little churchyard that 
 crowned a clifi' over the sea — a wild, solitary spot — an old gable, a 
 ruined wall, a few low grave stones, and no more. The cliff itself, 
 rising abruptly, from the sea to some four hundred feet, was perforated 
 with the nests of sea-fowl, whose melancholy cries, as they circled 
 overhead, seemed to ring out a last requiem. There it was they 
 now laid him. Many a time from that bleak summit had he lighted 
 a beacon fire to ships in distress. Often and often, from that same 
 spot, had he gazed out over the sea, to catch signs of those who 
 needed succour, and now that bold heart was still and that strong 
 arm stiffened, and the rough, deep voice that used to sound above 
 the tempest, silent for ever. 
 
 " Is'ever mind, Patsey," said Mary, to one of the fishermen, who 
 was endeavouring with some stray fragments of a wreck to raise a 
 little monument over the spot, " I'll look to that hereafter." And 
 
 2 G
 
 450 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 SO saying she turned mournfully away to descend the cliff. A 
 stranger, wrapped in a large boat-cloak, had been standing for some 
 time near tlie place, and as Mary left it he drew nigh and asked who 
 she was. 
 
 " "Who would she be ?" said the fisherman, gruffly, and evidently 
 in no humoiu' to converse. 
 
 " A wife, or a daughter, pcrliaps ?" asked the other again. 
 
 " Neither one nor the other," replied the fisherman. 
 
 " It is Miss Mary, Sir — Miss Martin — God bless her!" broke in 
 the other.' " One that never deserts the poor, living or dead. 
 Musha! but she's what keeps despair out of many a heart!" 
 
 " And has she come all this way alone?" asked he. 
 
 " "What other way could she come, I wonder ?" said the man he 
 had first addressed. " Didn't they leave her there by herself, just as 
 if she wasn't belonging to them. They were kinder to old Hender- 
 son's daughter than to their own flesh and blood." 
 
 "Hush, Jerry, hush! — she'll hear you," cried the other. And, 
 saluting the stranger respectfully, he began to follow down the clifl". 
 
 "Are there strangers stopping at the inn?" asked Mary, as she 
 saw lights gleaming from some of the windows as she passed. 
 
 " Yes, Miss, there's him that was up there at the churchyard — ye 
 didn't remark him maybe — and one or two more." 
 
 " I did not notice him," said Mary; and, wishing the men good 
 night, set out homeward. So frequent were the halts she made at 
 difterent cabins as she drove along, so many times was she stopped 
 to give a word of advice or counsel, that it was already duskish as 
 she reached Cro' Martin, and found herself once more near home. 
 " You're late witli the post this evening, Billy," said she, overtaking 
 the little fellow who carried the mail from Oughterard. 
 
 " Yes, Miss, there was great work sortin' the letters that came in 
 this morning, for I believe there's goin' to be another election ; at 
 least I heard Hosey Lynch say it was all about that made the bag 
 so full." 
 
 " I'm sorry for it, Billy," said she. " "We have enough to think of, 
 ay, and troubles enough too, not to need the strife and bitterness of 
 another contest amongst us." 
 
 " Thrue for ye. Miss, indeed," rejoined Billy. " 'Tis wishing 
 them far enough I am them same elections ; the bag does be a stone 
 heavier every day till it's over." 
 
 " Indeed !" said jNIary, half smiling at the remark. 
 " Thrue as I'm here. Miss. I wouldn't wonder if it was the goold 
 for bribin' the chaps makes it weigh so much."
 
 THE MARTINS Or CEO' ilAETIIT. 451 
 
 " And is there any other news stirring in the town, Billy ?" 
 
 " Next to none, Miss. They were talkin' of putting up ould 
 Nelligan's son for the niimber; and more says the Magennis of 
 Barnagheela will stand." 
 
 " A most excellent choice that would he, certainly," said Mary, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Paix ! I heerd of another that wasn't much better, Miss." 
 
 " And "who could that be ?" asked Mary, in astonishment. 
 
 " But sure you'd know better than me, if it was thrue, more by 
 token it would be the Master's own orders." 
 
 " I don't understand you, Billy." 
 
 " I mean, Miss, that it's only his Honer, Mr. Martin, could have 
 the power to make Maurice Scanlan a Parlimiut man." 
 
 "And has any one hinted at such a possibility?" said she, in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Indeed, then, it was the talk of the market this mornin' ; and 
 many a one said he's the very fellow would get in." 
 
 " Is he such a general favourite in Oughterard ?" 
 
 " I'm not sure it's that, Miss," said Billy, thouglitfuUy. " Maybe 
 some likes him, and more is afraid of him ; but he himself knows 
 everybody and everybody's business. He can raise the rent upon 
 this man, take it off that ; 'tis his word can make a barony-constable 
 or one of the watch. They say he has the taxes too in his power, 
 and can cess you just as he likes. Be my conscience, he's all as one 
 as the Prime Minister." 
 
 Just as Billy had delivered this sage reflection they had reached the 
 hall door, where, having consigned the letter-bag to the hands of a 
 servant, he turned his steps to the kitchen, to take an " air of the 
 fire" before he set out homeward. Mary Martin had not advanced 
 many steps within the hall when both her hands were cordially 
 grasped, and a kind voice, which she at once recognised as Mr. 
 Kepton's, said, "Here I am, my dear Miss Martin; arrived in 
 time, too, to w^clcome you home again. Ton paid me a visit yester- 
 day " 
 
 " Tes," broke she in ; " but you were shaking your ambrosial curls 
 at the time, browbeating the Bench, or cajoling the Jury, or some- 
 thing of that sort." 
 
 " That I was ; but I must own with scant success. You've heard 
 how that young David of Oughterard slew the old Goliath of 
 Dublin ? "Well, shall I confess it ? I'm glad of it. I feel proud to 
 think that the crop of clever fellows in Ireland is flourishing, and 
 that when I, and a dozen like me pass away, our places will be filled 
 
 2 a2
 
 452 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 by others that will keep the repute of our great profession high iu 
 the pubHc estimation." 
 
 " This is worthy of you, Sir," cried Mary, pressing the arm she 
 leaned on more closely. 
 
 "And now, my dear Miss Mary," said he, as they entered the 
 drawing-room, " now that I have light to look at you, let me make 
 my compliments on your appearance. Handsomer than ever, I posi- 
 tively declare. They told me in the town that you half killed your- 
 self with fatigue— that you frequently were days long on horseback, 
 and nights watching by sick beds ; but if this be the result, benevo- 
 lence is indeed its own reward." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Mr. Eepton, I see you do not keep all your flatteries 
 for the Jury-box." 
 
 " My moments are too limited here to allow me time for an un- 
 truth. I must be off; to-night I have a special retainer for a great 
 record at Eoscommou, and at this very instant I should be poring 
 over deeds and parchments, instead of gazing at ' orbs divinely blue ;' 
 not but, I believe, now that I look closer, yours are hazel." 
 
 " Let me order dinner, then, at once," said she, approaching the 
 bell. 
 
 "I have done that already, my dear," said he, gaily; "and what is 
 more, I have dictated the bill of fare. I guessed what a young lady's 
 simple meal miglit be, and I have been down to the cook, and you 
 shall see the result." 
 
 " Then it only remains for me to think of the cellar. What shall 
 it be. Sir ? The Burgundy that you praised so highly last winter, or 
 that Port that my uncle preferred to it?" 
 
 " I declare that I half suspect your uncle was right. Let us move 
 for a new trial, and try both over again," said he, laughing, as she 
 left the room. 
 
 " Just to think of such a girl, in such a spot," cried he to himself, 
 as he walked alone, up and down the room ; " beauty, grace, fascina- 
 tion — all that can charm and attract; and then, such a nature — 
 childlike in gaiety, and cliivalrous, ay, chivalrous as a chevalier!" 
 
 "I see. Sir, you are rehearsing for Roscommon," said Mary, who 
 entered the room while he was yet declaiming alone ; " but I must 
 interrupt you, for the soup is waiting." 
 
 " I obey the summons," said he, tending his arm. And they both 
 entered the dinner-room. 
 
 So long as the meal lasted Eepton's conversation was entirely de- 
 voted to such topics as he might have discussed at a formal dinner- 
 party. He talked of the world of society, its deaths, births, and
 
 THE MARTINS OF OBO' MARTIN. 453 
 
 marriages — its changes of place and amusement. He narrated the 
 latest smart things that were going tlie round of the clubs, and 
 hinted at the political events that were passing. But the servants 
 gone, and the chairs drawn closer to the blazing hearth, his tone 
 changed at once, and in a voice of tremidous kindness he said : 
 
 " I can't bear to think of the solitude of this life of yours ! — nay, 
 hear me out. I say this, not for yoti, since in the high devotion of a 
 noble purpose you are above all its penalties ; but I cannot endure 
 to think that we should permit it." 
 
 "First of all," said Mary, rapidly, " what you deem solitude is 
 scarcely such ; each day is so filled with its duties, that when I come 
 back here of an evening, it often happens that my greatest enjoyment 
 is the very sense of isolation that awaits mo. Do you know," added 
 she, " that very often the letter-bag lies unopened by me till moi'ning ? 
 And as to newspapers, there they lie in heaps, their covers unbroken 
 to this hour. Such is actually the case to-day. I haven't read my 
 letters yet." 
 
 "I read mine in my bed," cried Eepton. " I have them brought 
 to me by candlelight in winter, and I reflect over all the answers 
 while I am dressing. Some of the sharpest things I have ever said 
 have occurred to me while I was shaving; not," added he, hastily, 
 " but one's really best things are always impromptu. Just as I said 
 t'other day to the Viceroy — a somewhat felicitous one. Ho was 
 wishing that some historian would choose for his subject the lives of 
 Irish Lord-Lieutenants ; not, he remarked, in a mere spirit of party, 
 or with the levity of partisanship, but in a spirit becoming tlie dig- 
 nity of history — such as Hume himself miglit have done. ' Tes, my 
 lord,' I replied, 'your observation is most just, it should be a con- 
 tinuation of Kapine.' Eh ! it was a home-thrust, wasn't it ? — ' a con- 
 tinuation of Kapine.' " And the old man lauglied till his eyes ran 
 over. 
 
 "Do these great folk ever thoroughly forgive such things?" 
 asked Mary. 
 
 " My dear child, their self-esteem is so powerful they never feel 
 them, and even wlien they do, the clianccs arc that they store tliem 
 up in their memories, to retail afterwards as their own. I liave 
 detected my own stolen property more than once, but always so 
 damaged by wear, and disfigured by ill-usage, tliat I never thought 
 of reclaiming it." 
 
 "The affluent need never fret for a little robbery," said IMary, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Ay, but they may like to be the dispensers of their own riches,"
 
 454 THE MARTINS Of CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 rejoined Eepton, wlio never was happier than when able to carry out 
 anothei''s illustration. 
 
 "Is Lord Ecckington agreeable?" asked Mary, trying to lead 
 him on to any other theme than that of herself. 
 
 " He is eminently so. Like all men of his class, he makes more of 
 a small stock in trade than we with our heads full can ever pretend 
 to. Such men talk well, for they think fluently. Their tact teaches 
 them the popular tone on every subject, and they have the good 
 sense never to rise above it." 
 
 " And Massingbred, the secretary, what of him ?" 
 
 " A very well-bred gentleman, strongly cased in the triple armour 
 of official dulness. Such men converse as stupid whist-players play 
 cards — they are always asking to ' let them see the last trick ;' and 
 the consequence is they are ever half an hour behind the rest of the 
 world. Ay, Miss Mary, and this is an age where one must never be 
 half a second in arrear. This is really delicious Port, and, now that the 
 Burgundy is finished, I think I prefer it. Tell Martin I said so 
 when you write to him. I hope the cellar is well stocked with it." 
 
 " It was so when my uncle Avent away, but I fear I have made 
 great inroads upon it. It was my chief remedy with the poor," 
 
 " With the poor ! such wine as this, the richest grape that ever 
 purpled over the Douro! Do you tell me that you gave this to 
 
 these Heaven' forgive me, what am I saying ? Of course you 
 
 gave it ; you gave them what was fifty times more precious — the kind 
 ministerings of your own angelic nature, the soft words, and soft 
 looks and smiles that a Prince might have knelt for. I'm not worthy 
 to drink another glass of it," added he, as he pushed the decanter 
 from him towards the centre of the table. 
 
 " But you shall, though," said Mary, filling his glass, "and it shall 
 be a bumper to my health." 
 
 " A toast I'd stake my life for," said he, reverently, as he lifted her 
 hand to his lips and kissed it with all the deference of a courtier. 
 "And now," added he, refilling his glass, " I drink this to the worthy 
 fellow whose portrait is before me, and may he soon come back 
 again." He arose as he spoke, and giving his hand to Mary, led her 
 into the drawing-room. "Ay, my dear Miss Mary," said he, follow- 
 ing up the theme in his own thoughts, " it is here your uncle ought 
 to be ! When the army is in rout and dismay, the General's presence 
 is the talisman that restores discipline. Everything around us at this 
 moment is full of threatening danger. The catalogue of the assizes 
 is a dark record ; I never saw its equal, no more have I ever wit- 
 nessed anything to compare with the dogged indifierence of the men
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 455 
 
 arraigned. The Irisliman is half a fatalist by nature ; it will be an 
 evil hour that makes him wholly one !" 
 
 " But still," said Mary, "you'd scarcely counsel his return here at 
 this time. The changes that have taken place would fret him deeply ; 
 not to speak of even worse !" 
 
 She delivered the last few words in a voice broken and trembling, 
 and Eepton, turning quickly towards her, said : 
 
 '' I know what you point at : the irritated feeling of the people and 
 that insolent menace they dared to affix to his own door !" 
 
 " Tou heard of that, then?" cried she, eagerly. 
 
 " To be sure I heard of it ; and I heard how your own hands tore it 
 down, and riding with it into the midst of them at Kiltimmon market, 
 you said, ' I'll give five hundred pounds to him who shows me who 
 did this, and I'll forfeit five hundred more if I do not horsewhip the 
 coward from the county.' " 
 
 Mary bid her face within her hands, but closely as she pressed 
 them there, the warm tears would force their way through, and faU, 
 dropping, on her bosom. 
 
 " You are a noble girl," cried be, in ecstasy ; " and in all your great 
 trials there is nothing finer than this, that the work of your benevo- 
 lence has never been stayed by the sense of ill-requital, and you have 
 never involved the character of a people in the foul crime of a mis- 
 creant." 
 
 " How could I so wrong them, Sir ?" broke she out. " Who better 
 than myself can speak of their glorious courage, their patient resig- 
 nation, their noble self-devotion ? Has not the man sinking under 
 fever crawled from his bed to lead me to the house of another deeper 
 in misery than himself? Have I not seen the very poorest sharing 
 the little alms bestowed upon tlieir wretclicdness ? Have I not heard 
 the most touching words of gratitude from lips growing cold in death ? 
 Tou may easily show me lands of greater comfort, where the bless- 
 ings of wealth and civilisation are more widely spread, but I defy you 
 to point to any where the trials of a whole people have been so great 
 and so splendidly sustained." 
 
 "I'll not ask the privilege of reply," said Eepton; "perhaps I'd 
 rather be convinced by you than attempt to gainsay one word of your 
 argument." 
 
 " At your peril, Sir !" said she, menacing him with her finger, while 
 a bright smile lit xip her features. 
 
 " The chaise is at the door. Sir," said a servant, entering and ad- 
 dressing Eepton. 
 
 "Already!" exclaimed he. "Why, my dear Miss Mary, it can't
 
 456 THE MAUTINS OF CEO' MABTIN. 
 
 surely bo eiglit o'clock. No, but," added lie, looking at his watch, "it 
 only wants a quarter of ten, and I have not said one-half" of what I 
 had to say, nor heard a fourth of what you had to tell me." 
 
 "Let the postboy put up his horses, William," said Miss Martin, 
 "and bring tea." 
 
 "A most excellent suggestion," chimed in Eepton. "Do you 
 know, my dear, that we old bachelors never thoroughly appreciate all 
 that we have missed in domesticity till wc approach a tea-table. We 
 surround ourselves with fifty mockeries of liome-life, we can manage 
 soft carpets, warm curtains, snug dinners, but somehow our cup of 
 tea is a rude imitation that only depicts the inaccuracy of the copy. 
 Without the Priestess the tea-urn sings forth no incantation." 
 
 " How came it that Mr. Eepton remained a Benedict ?" asked she, 
 gaily. 
 
 " By the old accident, that he wouldn't take what he might havej 
 and couldn't get what he wished. Add to that," continued he, after 
 a pause, " when a man comes to a certain time of life without marry- 
 ing, the world has given him a certain place, assigned to him, as it were, 
 a certain part, which wovdd be utterly marred by a wife. The fami- 
 liarity of one's female acquaintance — the pleasantest spot in old 
 Bachelorhood — couldn't stand such an ordeal ; and the hundred-aud- 
 one eccentricities pardonable and pardoned in the single man, would 
 be condemned in the married one. You shake your head. Well now, 
 I'll put it to the test. Would you, or could you, make me your con- 
 fidant so unreservedly if there were such a person as Mrs. Eepton iu 
 the world ? Not a bit of it, my dear child. We old bachelors are 
 the lay priests of society, and many come to us with confessions they'd 
 scruple about making to the regular authorities." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," said she, thoughtfully ; "at all events, / 
 should have no objection to you as my confessor." 
 
 " I may have to claim that promise one of these days yet," said 
 he, significantly. " Eh ! here comes William again. Well, the post- 
 boy won't wait, or something has gone wrong. Eh ! William, what 
 is it?" 
 
 " The boy's afraid. Sir, if you don't go soon, that there will be 
 no passing the river at Barnagheela — the flood is rising every 
 minute." 
 
 " And already the water is too deep," cried Mary. " Give the lad 
 his supper, William. Let him make up his cattle, and say that 
 Mr. Eepton remains here for the night." 
 
 "And Mr. Eepton obeys," said he, bowing; " though what is to
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 457 
 
 become of ' Kellj versus Lenaliam and another,' is more than I 
 
 can say." 
 
 "They'll have so many great guns, Sir," said Mary, laughing, 
 " won't they be able to spare a twenty-four pounder ?" 
 
 " But I ought at least to appear in the battery, my dear. They'll 
 say that I stayed away on account of that young fellow Nelligan : he 
 has a brief in that cause, and I know he'd like another tussle with 
 me. By the way. Miss Mary, that reminds me that I promised him to 
 make his — no, not his excuses, he was too manly for that, but his — 
 his explanations to you about yesterday's business. He was sorely 
 grieved at the part assigned him ; he spoke feelingly of all the atten- 
 tions he once met at your uncle's hands, but far more so of certain 
 kindnesses shown to his mother, by yourself ; and surmising that you 
 miglit be unaware of the exacting nature of our Bar etiquette, tliat 
 leaves no man at liberty to decline a cause, he tortured himself in- 
 venting means to set himself right with you." 
 
 " But I know your etiquette. Sir, and I respect it ; and Mr. Nelli- 
 gan never stood higher in my estimation than by his conduct of 
 yesterday. Ton can tell him, therefore, that you saw there was no 
 necessity to touch on the topic ; it will leave less unpleasantness if 
 we should meet again." 
 
 " What a diplomatist it is," said Eeptou, smiling affectionately at 
 her. " How successful must all this tact be Avhen engaged wdth the 
 people ! Nay, no denial : you know in yoiu- heart what subtle de- 
 vices it supplies you with." 
 
 " And yet, I'm not so certain that what you call my diplomacy 
 may not have involved me in some trouble — at least, there is the 
 cliance of it." 
 
 " As how, my dear child ?" 
 
 '• You shall hear. Sir. Tou know tlic story of that poor girl at 
 Barnaghcela, whom tliey call Mrs. Mageunis ? Well, her old grand- 
 father — as noble a heart as ever beat — had never ceased to pine after 
 her fall. She had been the A'ery light of his life, and he loved her on, 
 tlirough her sorrow, if not her shame, till, as death drew nigh him, 
 unable to restrain his craving desire, he asked me to go and fetch 
 her, to give lier his last kiss and receive his last blessing. It was a 
 task I had fain have declined, were such an escape open to me, but I 
 could not. In a word, I went and did his bidding. She stayed with 
 him till he breathed his last breath, and then — in virtue of some 
 pledge, I hear, that she made him — she iled, no one knows whither. 
 All trace of her is lost ; and though I have sent messengers on every 
 side, none have yet discovered her."
 
 458 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAUTIN. 
 
 " Suicide is not the vice of our people," said Eepton, gravely. 
 
 " I know that well ; and the knowledge makes me hopeful. But 
 what sufFcrings are yet before her! what fearful trials has she to 
 meet !" 
 
 " By Jove !" cried Repton, rising and pacing the room, " you have 
 courage, young lady, that would do honour to a man. You can 
 hrave the greatest perils Avith a stout-heartedness that the best of us 
 could scarcely summon." 
 
 " But, in this case, the peril is not mine. Sir." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that, Miss Mary," said Eepton, doubtingly 
 — " I'm not so sure of that." And, with crossed arms and bent-down 
 head, he paced the room slowly back and forwards. " Aj," muttered 
 he to himself, " Thursday night — Friday, at all events — will close 
 the Eecord. I can speak to evidence, on the morning, and be back 
 here again, some time in the night. Of course it is a duty — it is 
 more than a duty." Then he added, aloud, " Tliere's the moon 
 breaking out, and a fine breezy sky. I'll take the road, Miss Mary, 
 and, with your good leave, I'll drink tea with you on Friday evening. 
 Nay, my dear, the rule is made absolute." 
 
 "I agree," said she, "if it secures me a longer visit on your 
 return." 
 
 A few moments afterwards saw Eepton seated in the corner of his 
 chaise, and hurrying onward at speed. His eyes soon closed in 
 slumber, and as he sank off to rest, his lips murmured gently, 
 " My Lord, in rising to address the Court, under circumstances of 
 no ordinary difficulty, and in a case where vast interests, consider- 
 able influence, and, I may add — may add " The words died 
 
 away, and he was asleep. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLVI. 
 
 LADT Dorothea's letter. 
 
 Though it was late when Eepton took his departure, Mary Martin 
 felt no inclination for sleep, but addressed herself at once to examine 
 the letter-bag, whose contents seemed more than usually bulky. 
 Amid a mass of correspondence about the estate, she came at length 
 upon the foreign letters, of which there were several from the ser- 
 vants to their friends or relations at Cro' Martin — all, as usual, under 
 cover to Miss Martin ; and at last she found one in Lady Dorothea's
 
 THE MAETINS OY CEO' MAETIX. 459 
 
 own hand for herself, a very rare occurrence — nay, indeed, it was the 
 first epistle her ladyship had favoured her with, since her departure. 
 
 It was not, then, without curiosity as to the cause that Mary broke 
 the large seal and read as follows : 
 
 " Carlsrulie, Saturday Evening, 
 Cour de Bade. 
 " Mt deae Niece, 
 
 " It was only yesterday, when looldug over your uncle's papers, I 
 chanced upon a letter of yours, dated some five or six weeks back, and 
 which, to my great astonishment, I discovered had never been com- 
 municated to me — though this mark of deficient confidence will 
 doubtless seem less surprising to ^ou. 
 
 " To bring your letter to your mind, I may observe it is one in which 
 you describe the condition of the people on the estate, and the fatal 
 inroads then making upon them by famine and pestilence. It is not 
 my intention here to advert to what may possibly be a very natural 
 error in your account — the exaggerated picture you draw of their 
 sufieriugs ; your sympathy with them, and your presence to witness 
 much of what they are enduring, will explain and excuse the highly- 
 coloured statement of their sorrows. It Avere to be wished that an 
 equally valid apology could be made for what I am forced to« call the 
 importunity of your demands in their favour. Five of your six last 
 letters now before me are filled with appeals for abatements of rent, 
 loans to carry out improvements ; stipends for schoolmasters, doc- 
 tors, scripture readers, and a tribe of o1;her hangers-on, tliat really 
 seem to augment in number as the pauperism of the people increases. 
 However ungracious the task of disparaging the accuracy of your 
 view, I have no other alternative but to accept it, and hence I am 
 forced to pen these lines myself in preference to committing the ofilce 
 to another. 
 
 " It really seems to me that you regard our position as landed pro- 
 prietors in the light of a mere stewardship, and that it is our bounden 
 duty to expend upon the tenantry the proceeds of the estate, reserving 
 a scant}' per-centage, perhaps, for ourselves to live upon. How you 
 came to this opinion, and whence you acquired it, I have no means of 
 knowing. If, however, it lias been the suggestion of your own genius, 
 it is right you should know that you hold doctrines in common with 
 the most distinguished Communists of modern times, and are quite 
 worthy of a seat of honour beside those who are now convulsing 
 society throughout Europe. 
 
 " I am unwilling to utter anything like severity towards errors, many 
 of which take their rise in a mistaken and ill-directed benevolence,
 
 460 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MAETIK. 
 
 because the original fault of committing the management of this pro- 
 perty to your liands was tlic work of another. Let me hope that sin- 
 cere sorrow for so fatal a mistake may not be the primary cause of 
 his present attack " 
 
 "When Mary read so far, she started with a sudden fear, and turn- 
 ing over the pages of the long letter, she sought for some allusion to 
 her uncle. At length she found the following lines : 
 
 " Your cousin would have left this for Ireland, but for the sudden 
 seizure your poor imcle has suffered from, and which came upon him 
 after breakfast, in apparently his ordinary health. The entire of the 
 left side is attacked — the face particularly — and his utterance quite 
 inarticulate." 
 
 Eor some minutes she could read no more, the warm tears rolled 
 down her cheeks and dropped heavily on the paper, and she could only 
 mutter to herself, " My poor dear uncle — my last, my only friend in 
 the world !" Drying her eyes, with a great effort she read on : 
 
 " The remedies have been so far successful as to arrest the progress 
 of the malady, and his appetite is good, and his spirits, everything con- 
 sidered, are excellent. Of course, all details of business are strictlv 
 
 3 7 *f 
 
 excluded from his presence ; and your cousin has assumed whatever 
 authority is necessary to the management of the property. We 
 thought at one time your presence here might have been desirable, 
 but, considering the distance, the difficulty of travelling without suit- 
 able companionship, and other circumstances, it would, on the whole, 
 be a step we should not recommend ; and, indeed, your uncle himself 
 has not expressed any wishes on the subject." 
 
 She dropped the letter at these words, and, covering her face with 
 her hands, sobbed bitterly and long ; at length, and with an effort 
 which taxed her strength to the utmost, she read on : 
 
 " Although, however, you are to remain at Cro' Martin, it will be 
 more than ever imperative you should reduce the establishment there 
 witliin the very strictest possible limits ; and to begin this reform, 
 I'm fully assured it is necessary you should depose old Mrs. Broon, 
 who is really incapable of lier duties, while her long-acquired habits 
 of expense render her incompatible with any new regulations to en- 
 force economy. A moderate pension — something, however, in accord- 
 ance with her real wants and requirements, rather than what might 
 be called her expectations — should be settled upon her, and there are 
 several farmers on the estate, any one of whom would gladly take 
 charge of her. The gardens still figure largely in the account, and con-
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 4G1 
 
 sidering the very little probability of our making the place a residence 
 again, might be turned to more profitable use. Tou will confer with 
 Henderson on the subject, and inquire how far it might be advisable 
 to cultivate vegetables for market, or convert them into paddocks for 
 calves, or, in short, anything which, if less remunerative, should still 
 save the enormous outlay we now hear of. I scarcely like to allude to 
 the stable, knowing how much you lean to the enjoyment of riding 
 and driving, but really these are times v.-heu retrenchment is called 
 for at every hand ; and I am persuaded that for purposes of health 
 walking is infinitely better than carriage exercise. I know myself, 
 that since I have taken to the habit of getting out of the carriage at 
 the wells, and walking twice round the parterre, I feel myself braced 
 and better for the day. 
 
 " It is not improbable but when the changes I thus suggest, and 
 others similar to them, are enacted, that you will see to what little 
 purpose a large house is maintained for the mere accommodation of 
 a single individual, without suitable means, or indeed any reason 
 whatever to dispense them. If then, I say, you should come to this 
 conviction — at which I have already arrived — a very great saving might 
 be efiected by obtaining a tenant for Cro' Martin, while yow, if still 
 desirous of remaining in the county, might be most comfortably ac- 
 commodated at the Hendersons'. " 
 
 Three times did Mary Martin read over this passage before she 
 could bring herself to believe in its meaning ; and hot tears of sorrow 
 coursed down her cheeks as she became assiired of its import. 
 
 " It is not," went on the epistle — " it is not in your uncle's 
 present most critical state that I could confer witli him on this 
 project, nor strengthen my advice by what most probably would 
 be his also. I therefore make the appeal simply to your own sense 
 of what you may think in accordance with our greatly increased 
 outlay and your own requirements. Should you receive this sugges- 
 tion in the spirit in whicli it is offered, I think that botli for your 
 uncle's satisfaction, and your own dignity, the proposal ought to come 
 from yourself. You coidd make it to mo in a letter, stating all the 
 reasons in its favour, and of course not omitting to lay suitable stress 
 upon the isolation of your present life, and the comfort and security 
 you would derive from the protection of a family. Mrs. H. is really a 
 very nice person, and her tastes and habits would render her most 
 companionable ; and she woidd, of course, make you an object of 
 especial attention and respect. It is, besides, not impossible that the 
 daughter may soon return — though this is a point I have not leisure 
 to enter upon at present. A hundred a year would be a very hand-
 
 4G2 THE MAETIN3 OF CEO' MA.ETIN, 
 
 some alloAvance for Henderson, and indeed for that sum he ought to 
 keep your pony, if you still contiaue your taste for equipage. You 
 would thus be more comfortable, and really richer — that is, have more 
 disposable means — than you have, hitherto, had. I forbear to insist 
 further upon what — till it has your own approval — may be a vain 
 advocacy on my part. I can only say, in conclusion, that in adopting 
 this plan you would equally consult what is due to your own dignity, 
 as AA-hat is required by your uncle's interests. Your cousin, I am 
 forced to avoAv it, has been very silly, very inconsiderate, not alone in 
 contracting heaA^y debts, but in raising large sums to meet them at 
 fabulous rates of interest. The involvements threaten, from what I 
 can gather, to imperil a considerable part of the estate, and we are 
 obliged to send for Scanlan to come out here, and confer with him as 
 to the means of extrication. I feel there is much to be said in pallia- 
 tion of errors which have their origin in high and generous qualities. 
 Plantagenet was throAvn at a very early age into the society of a most 
 expensive regiment, and naturally contracted the tastes and habits 
 around him. Poor fellow, he is suffering severely from the memory of 
 these early indiscretions, and I see that nothing but a speedy settle- 
 ment of his difficulties will ever restore him to his wonted spirits. 
 You Avill thus perceive, that if my suggested change of life to you 
 should not conform entirely to your Avishcs, that you are in reality 
 only accepting your share of the sacrifices called for, from each of us. 
 
 " There are a great number of other matters on which I wished to 
 touch — some, indeed, are not exactly within your province, such as the 
 political fortunes of the borough, Avhose seat Mr. Massingbred has 
 determined to vacate. Although not admitting the reason for his con- 
 duct, I am strongly convinced that the step is a mere acknowledgment 
 of an error on his part, and an effort, however late, at the ' amende 
 honorable.' The restitution, for so I am forced to regard it, comes 
 most inopportunely, since it Avould be a most ill-chosen moment in 
 which to incur the exj^ense of a contested election; besides that, 
 really your cousin has no desire AA'hatever for Parliamentary honours. 
 Plantagenet, however, would seem to have some especial intentions on 
 the subject which he keeps secret, and has asked of Massingbred not 
 to send off his farewell address to the constituency for some days. 
 But I will not continue a theme so little attractive to you. 
 
 " Dr. Schubiirt has just called to see your imcle. He is not altogether 
 so satisfied with his state as I could have hoped ; he advises change 
 of scene, and a little more intercourse with the Avorld, and we have 
 some thought of Nice, if we cannot get on to Naples. Dr. S., to 
 whom I spoke on the subject of your Irish miseries, tells me that
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 463 
 
 Cholera is now the most manageable of all maladies, if only taken 
 early ; that you must enjoin the persons attacked to a more liberal 
 diet, no vegetables, and a sparing use of French "wines, excepting, he 
 says, the generous ' Tins du Midi.' There is also a mixture to be 
 taken — of which he promised me the prescription — and a pill every 
 night of arnica or aconite — I'm not quite certain -which — but it is a 
 perfect specific. He also adds, what must be felt as most reassuring, 
 that the disease never attacks but the very poorest of the population. 
 As to typhus, he smiled when I spoke of it. It is, he says, a mere 
 ' Gastrite,' a malady which modern science actually despises. In fact, 
 my dear niece, these would seem, like all other Irish misfortunes, 
 the mere offshoots of her own dark ignorance and barbarism. If it 
 were not for the great expense — and of course that consideration 
 decides the question — I should have requested you to send over your 
 doctor here to confer with Dr. Schubart. Indeed, I think it might be a 
 very reasonable demand to make of the Government, but unhappily 
 my present ' relations' with my relative Lord lieckington preclude 
 any advances of mine in that quarter. 
 
 " I was forgetting to add, that with respect to Cholera, and, indeed, 
 fever generally, that Dr. S. lays great stress upon what he calls the 
 moral treatment of tlie people, amusing tlieir minds by easily-learned 
 games and simple pleasui'es. I fear me, however, that the coarser 
 natures of our population may not derive adequate amusement from the 
 resources whicli would have such eminent success with the enlight- 
 ened peasant of the Ehine land. Dr. S., I may remark, is a very dis- 
 tinguished writer on politics, and daily amazes us with the astounding 
 speculations he is forming as to the future condition of Europe. His 
 conviction is that oiu* great peril is Tui'key, and that Mohammedanism 
 will be the religion of Europe before the end of the present centur}'. 
 Those new baths established at Brighton by a certain Hamet are a 
 mere political agency, a secret propaganda, which his acuteness has 
 alone penetrated. Miss Henderson has ventured to oppose these 
 views with sometliing not very far from iinpcrtiuent ridicule, and for 
 some time back Dr. S. only discusses them with myself alone. 
 
 " I had left the remainder of the sheet for any intelligence that 
 might occur before post hour, but I am suddenly called away, and 
 shall close it at once. When I was sitting with your uncle a while 
 ago, I half broached the project I was suggesting to you, and he 
 seemed highly to approve of so much as I ventured to tell him, 
 Nothing tlien is wanting but your own concurrence to make it as 
 practicable, as it ia deemed advisable, by your aftectionate Aunt, 
 
 " DOEOTHEA INIaETIN."
 
 •ilU TUi: MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIX. 
 
 Tlu> ooooul rioitios of lior auiil's olKiraotor hail always siTved as cx- 
 tomialinij oin'iunstauivs with Mary Martin. She know the violence 
 of hor pivjuilioos. tho onorinous anunmt of her solf-ostoom, and tho 
 facility with which sho was over uMo to porsuailo hcrsolf that what- 
 ever fiho wished to do assiuuod at once all the iinportanee and pjravity 
 of a duty! Tl\is thorough appreciation ttf her peculiarities enahled 
 ^lary to bear up patiently under many sore trials, and some actual 
 wriMis;^. AVhore the occasion was a light one, she eoidd atVord to 
 smile at siich trials, and, c\en in serious eases, thoy palliated tho 
 injustice; hut here was an instance wherein all lier forgiveness was 
 in vain. To take the nu>menl of her poor \incle's illness — that ter- 
 rible seirure. which left him without selt-guidancv. if even a will — to 
 dictate those hard and humiliating terms. Avas n downright cruelty. 
 Nor did it diminish tho sulfering which that letter cost her that its 
 harsh conditions seemed dictated by a spirit of contempt for In^land 
 anil its people. As Mary re-read the letter, sho felt that every lino 
 breathed this tone of depivciation. It was to her Ladyship a matter of 
 loss than inditrercnce what became i>f the demesne, who inhabited tho 
 house — tho homo of •'the ^lartins" lor couturios! Sho was as little 
 concerned for the prestige of tho "old family" as sho was interested 
 for tho sorrows of the people. If ^tary endeavoured to treat these 
 things dispassionately to her own heart, by dwelling upon all tho 
 points which atVccted others, still, her own individual wrong would 
 work to tho surface, and tho bitter and insulting suggestion made to 
 her rose up before her in all its enormity. 
 
 She did her very best to turn her thoughts into some other channel 
 — to tlx them upon her poor uncle, on his sick bed, sad and sorrow ing 
 as ho was sure to be — to thiidi of her cousin Harry, struggling 
 ngjiinst tho embarrassments of his own imprudence — of tho old 
 housoktvpor, Catty Broon, to whom sho could not summon courage 
 to speak tho cruel tidings of her changed lot — but all — all in vain; 
 back sho woidd come to tho humiliation that fori>shadowed her own 
 fortune, and thrt'atened to depose her from her station (or ever. 
 
 An indignant appeal to her uncle — her own lather's brother — was 
 her tirst resolve. " Let mo learn," said sho to herself, " from his 
 own lips that such is the destiny he svssigns me — that, in return for 
 uiy tried allection, my devotion, ho has no other recompense than to 
 lower me in self-esteem and condition together. Tinu^ enough, when 
 assured of this, to decide upon what 1 bhall do. But to whom shall 
 I adilress this demand?" thought sho again. "That dc:ir, kind 
 uncle, is now struck down by illness. It were worse than cruelty to 
 add to his own sorrows, any thought of mine. If he have concurred
 
 THE MAUriXS OF CUO' MAKTIX. -lUo 
 
 in Lady Dorothea's suggestion, who kuows iu wliat light it may have 
 boon presented to him — by what arguments strengthened — with what 
 perils eontrasted r Is it impossible, too, that the saeriiieo may be 
 imperative ? The sale of part of the property — the pressure of heavy 
 elaims — all show that it may be neeessary to dispose of Cro' ]Martin. 
 Oh!" exclaimed she, in agony, "it is but a year ago, that, when ]Mr. 
 Eepton hinted vaguely at such a casualty, how stoutly ai\d indig- 
 nantly did I reject it ! 
 
 '•' Your uncle may choose to live abroad,' said he; ' lo sell the 
 estate, perhaps.' And I heard him with almost scornful detiance ; 
 and now the hour is come ! and even vet I cannot brin? mvself to 
 believe it. AVhen Eepton drew the pictiu'C of the tenantry, forsaken 
 and neglected, the poor unnoticed, and tlie sick luicared for, he still 
 forgot to assign me my place in the sad ' tableau,' and show that iu 
 destitution mj- lot was equal to their own ; the very poorest and 
 meanest had yet some spot, poor and mean though it were, they 
 called a home, that, Mary jNlartin was the only one an outcast!"' 
 
 These gloomy thoughts were darkened as she bethought her that 
 of her little fortune — on which, by Scanlan's aid, she had raised a 
 loan — a mere fragment remained — a few hundred pounds at most. 
 The outlay on hospitals, and medical assistance for the sick, had 
 more than quadrupled what she had estimated. The expense once 
 begun, she had persevered with almost reckless determination. She 
 had despatched to Dublin, one by one, the few articles of jewellery 
 and value she possessed for sale ; she had limited her own expendi- 
 ture to the very naiTOwest bounds, nor was it till driven by the 
 utmost ui'gency that she wrote the appeal to her inicle of which the 
 reader already knows. 
 
 '•Howl once envied Kate Henderson," cried she, aloud, "the 
 brilliant accomplishments she possessed, the graceful charm that her 
 cultivation threw over society, aitd the fascination she wielded, by 
 ac(]uii'emeuts of which I knew nothing ; but how much more now do 
 I envy Iter, that in those same gifts her independence was secured — 
 that, high above the chances of the world, she could build \ipon her 
 own elVorts, and never descend to a condition of dependence !" 
 
 Her diminished power amongst tlie people had been fully compen- 
 sated by the sincere love and atfection she had won from them by 
 acts of charity and devotion. Even these, however, owed much of 
 llieir efUcacy to the prestige of her station. Xo peasant in Europe 
 puts so high a value on the intercourse with a rank above his own 
 as does the Irish. The most pleasant ilattery to his nature is the 
 notice of " the Gentlemau," and it was more than half the boon Alary 
 
 2 u
 
 466 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 
 
 bestowed upon the poor, that she who sat down beside the bed, wlio 
 heated the little drink, who raised the head to swallow it, was the 
 daughter of the Great House! "Would not her altered fortune 
 destroy this charm ? was now her bitter reflection. Up to this hour, 
 greatly reduced as were the means she dispensed, and the influence 
 she wielded, she still lived in the proud home of her family, and all 
 regarded her as the representative of her honoured name. But 
 
 now 'No, she could not endure the thought ! " K I must 
 
 descend to further privations," said she to herself, "let me seek out 
 some new scene — some spot where I am unknown, have never been 
 heard of; there, at least, I shall be spared the contrast of the past 
 with tlie present, nor see in every incident the cruel mockery of my 
 former life. 
 
 "And yet," thought she, "how narrow-minded and selfish is all 
 this — how mean-spirited, to limit the question to my own feelings. 
 Is there no duty involved in this sacrifice ? Shall I not stiU — re- 
 duced though I be in fortune — shall I not still be a source of comfort 
 to many here ? Will not the very fact of my presence assure them 
 that they are not deserted ? They have seen me under some trials, 
 and the lesson has not been fruitless. Let them then behold me, 
 xmder heavier ones, not dismayed nor cast down. "What I lose in 
 the prestige of station, I shall more than gain in sympathy ; and so 
 I remain!" No sooner was the resolve formed than all her wonted 
 courage came back. Rallying with the stimulus of action before her, 
 she began to plan out a new life, in which her relation to the people 
 should be closer and nearer than ever. There was a small orna- 
 mental cottage on the demesne, known as the Chalet, built by Lady 
 Dorothea after one she had seen in the Oberland ; this Mary now 
 determined on for her home, and there, Avith Catty Broou, alone she 
 resolved to live. 
 
 " My aunt," thought she, " can scarcely be so wedded to the Hen- 
 derson scheme but that this will equally satisfy her wishes ; and while 
 it secures a home and a resting-place for poor Catty, it rescues me 
 from what I should feel as a humiliation." 
 
 The day was already beginning to dawn as Mary sat down to 
 answer Lady Dorothea's letter. Most of her reply referred to her 
 uncle, to whose affection she clung all the more as her fortunes 
 darkened. She saw all the embarrassment of proffering her services 
 to nurse and tend him, living as he was amidst his own ; but still, 
 she said that of the journey or its difficulties she should never waste 
 a thought, if her presence at his sick bed could afford him the slightest 
 satisfaction. " He knows me as a nurse already," said she ; " but tell
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 467 
 
 him that I have grown, if not wiser, calmer, and quieter than he knew 
 me formerly ; that I should not disturb him by foolish stories, but 
 sit patiently save when he would have me to talk. Tell him, too, 
 that if changed in many things, in my love to liim, I am un- 
 altered." She tried to add more, but could not. The thought that 
 these lines were to be read to her uncle by Lady Dorothea chilled 
 her, and the very tones of that supercilious voice seemed to ring in 
 her ears, and she imagined some haughty or insolent comment to 
 follow them as they were uttered. 
 
 With regard to her own future, she, in a few words, remarked upon 
 the imnecessary expense of maintaining a large house for the accom- 
 modation of a single person, and said that if her ladyshij) concurred 
 in the plan, she would prefer taking up her home at the Chalet with 
 old Catty for companion and housekeeper. 
 
 She pointed out the advantages of a change which, while securing 
 a comfortable home to them, would equally suggest to their de- 
 pendents lessons of thrift and self-sacrifice, and added, half sportively, 
 " As for me, when I find myself en Suisse, I'm sure I shall less regret 
 horses and dogs, and such like vanities, and take to the delights of a 
 dairy and cream cheeses with a good grace. Indeed, I'm not quite 
 certain but that Fortune, instead of displacing, will in reality be only 
 installing me in the position best suited to me. Do not, then, be 
 surprised, if at your return you find me in sabots and an embroidered 
 bodice, deep in the mystery of all cottage economics, and well con-' 
 tent to be so. 
 
 " Tou are quite right, my dear aunt," she continued, " not to en- 
 tertain me with politics. The theme is as much above as it is dis- 
 tasteful to me ; and so grovelling ai-e my sentiments, that I'd rather 
 hear of the arrival of a cargo of oatmeal at Kilkieran, than learn that 
 the profoimdest statesman of Great Britain had condescended to 
 stand for our dear borough of Oughterard. At the same time, if 
 Cousin Harry should change his mind, and turn his ambition towards 
 the Senate, tell him I'm quite ready to turn out and canvass for him 
 to-morrow, and that the hospitalities of the Chalet shall do honour to 
 the cause. As you speak of sending for Mr. Scanlan, I leave to him 
 to tell you all the events of our late assizes here — a task I escape from 
 the more willingly, since I have no successes to record. Mr. Ecpton, 
 however — he paid me a visit yesterday, and stopped here to dinner — 
 says that ho has no fears for the result at the next trial, and honestly 
 confesses that our present defeat was entirely owing to the skill and 
 ability of the counsel opposed to us. By some delay, or mistake, I 
 don't exactly know which, Scanlan omitted to send a retainer to young 
 
 2 H 2
 
 4G8 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MAKTIN. 
 
 Mr. Nelligan, and who, being employed for tlie otlier side, was the 
 chief cause of our failure. My uncle will be pleased to learn tliat 
 Mr. N.'s address to the jury was scrupulously free from any of that 
 invective or attack so frequently levelled at landlords when defending 
 the rights of property. Ecpton called it ' a model of legal argument, 
 delivered with the eloquence of a first-rate speaker, and the taste and 
 temper of a gentleman.' Indeed, I understand that the tone of the 
 speech has rendered all the ribaldry usual on such occasions in local 
 jovirnals impossible, and that the young barrister has acquired any- 
 tliing but popularity in consequence. Even in this much, is there a 
 dawn of better things ; and under sucb circumstances a defeat may 
 be more profitable than a victory." 
 
 AVith a few kind messages to her uncle, and an earnest entreaty for 
 early tidings of his state, INIary concluded a letter in whicb her great 
 difficulty lay in saying far less than her thoughts dictated, and con- 
 veying as much as she dare to trust to Lady Dorothea's interpreta- 
 tion. The letter concluded and sealed, she lay down, dressed as sbe 
 was, on her bed, and fell a-thinking over the future. 
 
 There are natures to whom the opening of any new vista in life 
 suggests fully as much of pleasure as anxiety : the prospect of the 
 unknown and the untried has something of the adventurous about it 
 whicb more than counterbalances the casualties of a future. Such a 
 temperament was hers ; and the first sense of sorrowful indignation 
 ■ over, she really began to speculate upon her cottage life with a certain 
 vague and dreamy enjoyment. She foresaw that when Cro' Martin 
 Castle fell into other bands, that her own career ceased, her occupa- 
 tion was gone, and that she should at once fashion out some new road, 
 and conform herself to new habits. The cares of her little household 
 would probably not sufiice to engage one whose active mind had 
 hitherto embraced so wide a field of action, and Mary then bethought 
 her how this leisure might be devoted to study and improvement. It 
 was only in the eager enthusiasm of her many pursuits that she buried 
 her sorrows over her neglected and imperfect education ; and now a 
 time was approaching when that reflection could no longer be resisted. 
 She pondered long and deepty over these thoughts, when suddenly 
 they were interrupted ; but in what way deserves a chapter of its own 
 — albeit a very brief one.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CllO' MABTIN. 469 
 
 CHAPTER XLYII. 
 
 MR. merl's experiences in the west. 
 
 " "What card is this? — who left it ?" said Maiy, as she took up 
 one from her breakfast-table. 
 
 " It is a gentleman that came to the inn late last night, Miss, 
 and sent a boy over to ask when he could pay his respects at tlie 
 Castle." 
 
 " ' Mr. Herman Merl' — a name I never heard of," muttered Mary 
 to lierself. " Doubtless some stranger wishing to see the house. 
 Say, whenever he pleases, George ; and order Sorrel to be ready, 
 saddled and at the door, within an hour. This must be a busy day," 
 said she, still speaking to herself, as the servant left the room. " Afc 
 Oughterard before one ; a meeting of the Loan Fund — I shall need 
 some aid for my hospital ; the Government order for the meal to be 
 countersigned by a justice — Mr. Nelligan will do it. Then there's 
 Taite's little boy to be balloted for in the Orphan House ; and 
 Cassidy's son to be sent up to Dublin. Poor fellow ! he has a terrible 
 operation to go through. And I shall need Priest E-afferty's name 
 to this niemorial from the widows ; the Castle autliorities seem to 
 require it. After that, a visit to Kyle-a-Noe, to see all my poor sick 
 folk : that will be a long business, I hope I may be able to get 
 down to the shore and learn some tidings of poor Joan. She never 
 leaves my thoughts ; and yet I feel that no ill has befallen her." 
 
 " The gentleman tliat sent the card. Miss, is below stairs. He is 
 with Mr. Crow, at the liall-door," said George, 
 
 " Show him into the drawing-room, George, and tell Mr. Crow to 
 come here, I wish to speak to him." And before Mary had put 
 away the papers and letters which littered the table, the artist 
 entered. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Crow!" said Mary, in return for a number 
 of most courteous sahitations, which he was performing in a small 
 
 semicircle in front of lier. " AVho is your friend Mr. ' Mr. 
 
 Herman Merl ?' " read she, taking up the card. 
 
 A friend of your cousin's. Miss Mary — of the Captain's. He 
 
 u
 
 470 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MABTIX. 
 
 brought a letter from liim ; but he gave it to Scanlan, and somehow 
 Mr. Maurice, I believe, forgot to deliver it." 
 
 " I have no recollection of it," said she, still assorting the papers 
 before her. " What is this visit meant for — curiosity, pleasure, 
 business ? Does he wish to see the house ?" 
 
 " I think it's Miss Martin herself he'd like to see," said Crow, 
 half slily. 
 
 " But why so ? It's quite clear that I cannot show him any 
 attentions. A young girl, living as I do here, cannot be expected to 
 receive guests. Besides, I have other things to attend to. Tou 
 must do the honours of Cro' Martin, Mr. Crow. Tou must enter- 
 tain this gentleman for me. I'll order luncheon before I go out, 
 and I'm sure you'll not refuse me this service." 
 
 " I wish I knew a real service to render you, IMiss Mary," said he, 
 with unfeigned devotedness in his look as he spoke. 
 
 "I think I could promise myself as much," said Mary, smiling 
 kindly on him. " Do you happen to know anything of this stranger, 
 Mr. Crow ?" 
 
 " Nothing, Miss, bevond seeing him this week back at Kil- 
 kieran." 
 
 " Oil, I have heai'd of him, then," broke in Mary. " It is of him 
 the people tell me such stories of benevolence and goodness. It was 
 he that sent the yawl out to Murran Island with oatmeal and 
 potatoes for the poor. But I thought they called him Mr. Barry ?" 
 
 " To be sure they do ; and he's another guess man from him below 
 stairs. This one here" — Mr. Crow now spoke in a whisper — " this 
 one here is a Jew, I'd take the Testament on it, and I'd not be sur- 
 prised -if he was one of them thieving villains that they say robbed 
 the Captain ! All the questions he does be asking about the property, 
 and the rents, if they're well paid, and what arrears there are, shows 
 me that he isn't here for nothing." 
 
 " I know nothing of what you allude to, ]VIr. Crow," said she, 
 half proudly ; " it would ill become ine to pry into my cousin's aftairs. 
 At the same time, if the gentleman has no actual business with me, 
 I shall decline to receive him." 
 
 " He says he has, Miss," replied Crow. " He says that he wants 
 to speak to you about a letter he got by yesterday's post H'om the 
 Captain." 
 
 Mary heard this announcement with evident impatience ; her head 
 was, indeed, too full of other cares to wish to occupy her attention 
 with a ceremonial visit. She was in no mood to accept the unmean- 
 ing compliments of a new acquaintance. Shall we dare to insinuate,
 
 THE MARTINS OF CHO' MAETIK. 471 
 
 ■wliat after all is a mere suspicion on our part, tbat a casual glance 
 at lier pale clieeks, sunken eyes, and careworn features, had some 
 share in tlie obstinacy of her refusal ? She was not, indeed, " in 
 looks," and she knew it. " Must I repeat it, Mr. Crow," said she, 
 peevishly, " that you can do all this for me, and save me a world of 
 trouble and inconvenience, besides ? If there should be — a very un- 
 likely circumstance — anything confidential to communicate, this 
 gentleman may write it." And with this she left the room, leaving 
 poor Mr. Crow in a state of considerable embarrassment. Eesolving 
 to make the best of his difficulty, he returned to the drawing-room, 
 and apologising to Merl for Miss Martin's absence on matters of 
 great necessity, he conveyed her request that he would stop for 
 luncheon. 
 
 " She an't afraid of me, I hope ?" said Mcrl. 
 
 " I trust not. I rather suspect she is little subject to fear upon 
 any score," replied Crow. 
 
 " "Well, I must say it's not exactly what I expected. The letter I 
 hold here from the Captain gives me to understand that his cousin 
 will not only receive me, but confer with and counsel me, too, in a 
 somewhat important aifair." 
 
 " Oh, I forgot," broke in Crow ; " you are to write to her, she 
 said — ^that is, if there really were anything of consequence, which 
 you deemed confidential, you know — you were to write to her." 
 
 " I never put my hand to papei', IMr. Crow, without well know- 
 ing why. "When Herman Merl signs anything, he takes time to 
 consider what's in it," said the Jew, knowingly. 
 
 " Well, shall I show you the house — there are some clever speci- 
 mens of the Dutch masters here ?" asked Crow, anxious to change 
 the topic. 
 
 " Ay, with all my heart. I suppose I must accept this privilege 
 as my experience of the much-boasted Irish hospitality," said he, 
 with a sneer, which required all Crow's self-control to resist answer- 
 ing. To master the temptation and give himself a few moments' 
 repose, he went about opening windows and drawing back curtains, 
 so as to admit a fuller and stronger light upon the pictures along 
 the walls. 
 
 '•There now," said he, pointing to a large landscape, "there's a 
 Both, and a fine one too ; as mellow in colour and as soft in distance 
 as ever he painted." 
 
 " That's a copy," said the other. "Tliat picture was painted by 
 AVoeffel, and I'll show you his initials, too, A. ^V., before we leave it."
 
 472 TUE MABTINS OF CKO' MAUTIN 
 
 " It came from the Dordrecht Gallery, and is an undouDted Both !" 
 exclaimed Crow, angrily. 
 
 " I saw it there myself", and in very siiitahle company, too, with a 
 Snyders on one side and a Eubens on t'other, the Snyders being a 
 Faltk, and the Eubens a Metziger ; the whole three being positively 
 dear at twenty pounds. Ay, here it is," continued he, pointing to the 
 hollow trunk of a decayed tree ; " there's the initials. So much for 
 your origiual by Both." 
 
 " I hope you'll alloAV that to be Mieris ?" said Crow, passing on 
 to another. 
 
 " If you hadn't opened the shutters perhaps I might," said Merl; 
 "but with a good dash of light on it I see it is by Jansens — and a 
 clever copy, too." 
 
 " A copy !" exclaimed the other. 
 
 "A good copy, I said. The King of Bavaria has the original. It 
 is in the small collection at Holien Schwangau. There, that's good !" 
 cried he, turning to a small unfinished sketch in oils. 
 
 "I often wondered who did it!" cried Crow. 
 
 " That ! Why, can you doubt it. Sir ? That's a bit of Vandyke's 
 own. It was one of the luindred and fifty rough things he threw off 
 as studies for his great picture of St, Martin parting his cloak." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear you say so," said Crow, in delight. " I felt, 
 when I looked at it, that it was a great hand threw in them colours." 
 
 "You call this a Salvator llosa, don't you ?" said Merl, as he stood 
 before a large piece representing a bandit's bivouac in a forest, with 
 a pale moonlight stealing through the trees. 
 
 " Yes, that we do," said Crow, stoutly, 
 
 " Of course it's quite sufiicient to have blended lights, rugged fore- 
 grounds, and plenty of action to make a Salvator ; but let me tell 
 you. Sir, that it's not even a copy of him. It is a bad — ay, and a 
 very bad — Haemlens — an Antwerp fellow that lived by poor fac- 
 similes," 
 
 " Oh dear, oh dear!" cried Crow, despairingly. " Did I ever hear 
 the like of this !" 
 
 " Are these your best things, Mr. Crow?" said Merl, surveying 
 the room with an air of consummate depreciation. 
 
 " There are others. There are some portraits and a number of 
 small cabinet pictures." 
 
 " Gerard Dows, and Jansens, and such like ?" resumed Merl ; " I 
 understand: a mellow brown tint makes them, just as a glossy white 
 satin petticoat makes a Terburg. Mr. Crow, you've caught a Tartar !"
 
 THE MAKTiyS OF CRO' MARTIIT. 473 
 
 said he, Tivitli a grin. " There's not a man in Europe can detect a 
 copy from the original sooner than him before you. Now seven out 
 of every eiglit of these here are veritable ' croiites' — wliat we call 
 ' croutes,' Sir — things sold at Christie's, and sent oft" to the Continent 
 to be hung up in old Chateaux in Ehmders, or dilapidated Villas in 
 Italy, where your exploring Englishman discovers them by rare good 
 luck, and brings them home with him as Cuyps, or Claudes, or 
 Vandykes. I'll undertake," said he, looking around him — " I'll under- 
 take to furnish you with a gallery, in every respect the du])licate of 
 this, for — let me see — say three hundred pounds. Now, Mr. Crow," 
 said Merl, taking a chair, and spreading out his legs before the fire, 
 " will you candidly answer me one question ?" 
 
 "TeU me what it is," said Crow, cautiously. 
 
 "I suppose by this time," said Merl, "you are tolerably well 
 satisfied that Herman Merl is not very easily duped ? I mean to say 
 that at least there are softer fellows to be found than the humble in- 
 dividual who addresses you." 
 
 "I trust there are, indeed," said the other, sighing, " or it would be 
 a mighty poor world for Simmy Crow and the likes of him." 
 
 " Well, I think so too," said Merl, chuckling to him. "The wide- 
 awake ones have rather the best of it. But, to come back to my 
 question, I was simply going to ask you if the whole of the Martin 
 estate, house, demesne, woods, gardens, quarries, farms, and fislieries, 
 was not pretty much the same sort of thing as this here gallery ?" 
 
 "How? "What do you mean?" asked Crow, whose temper was 
 barely, and with some difliculty, restrainable. 
 
 " I mean, in plain words, a regular humbug — that's all ! and no 
 more the representative of real value than these daubs here are the 
 works of the great masters whose names they counterfeit." 
 
 " Look here, Sir," said Crow, rising, and approaching the other 
 with a face of angry indignation, "for aught I know, you maybe 
 right about these pictures. The chances are you are a dealer in such 
 wares — at least you talk like one — but of the family that lived under 
 this roof, and whose bread I have eaten for many a day, if you utter 
 one word that even borders on disrespect — if you as miich as hint 
 at " 
 
 AVhat was to be the conclusion of Mr. Crow's menace we have no 
 means of recording, for a servant, rushing in at the instant, summoned 
 the artist with all speed to Miss Martin's presence. He found her, 
 as he entered, with flushed cheeks and eyes flashing angrily, in one of 
 the deep recesses of a window that looked out upon the lawn.
 
 474 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 "Come here, Sir," cried she, hurriedly — "come here, and behold 
 a sight such as you scarcely ever thought to look upon from these 
 windows. Look there." And she poiuted to an assemblage of about 
 a hundred people, many of whom were rudely armed with stakes, 
 gathered around the cliief entrance of the Castle. In the midst was a 
 tall man, mounted upon a wretched horse, who seemed from his ges- 
 tures to be haranguing the mob, and Avhom Crow speedily recognised 
 to be Magennis of Baruagheela. 
 
 " What does all this mean ?" asked he, in astonislunent. 
 
 "It means this, Sir," said she, grasping his arm and speaking in a 
 voice thick from passionate eagerness. " That these people whom 
 you see there»have demanded the right to enter the house and search 
 it from basement to roof. They are in quest of one that is missing, 
 and although I have given my word of honour that none such is con- 
 cealed here, they have dared to disbelieve me, and declare they will 
 see for tlaemselves. They might know me better," added she, with a 
 bitter smile — " they might know me better, and that I no more utter 
 a falsehood than I yield to a menace. See!" exclaimed she, "they 
 are passing through the flower-garden — they are approaching the 
 lower windows. Take a horse, Mr. Crow, and ride for Kiltimmon; 
 thei'e is a police-station there — bring up the force with you — lose no 
 time, I entreat you." 
 
 " But how — leave you here all alone ?" 
 
 " Harv^e no fears on that score. Sir," said she, proudly; " they may 
 insult the roof that shelters me, to myself, they will offer no outrage. 
 But be quick ; away at once, and with speed." 
 
 Had INIr. Crow been, what it must be owned had been difficult, a 
 worse horseman than he was, he would never have hesitated to obey 
 this behest. Ere many minutes, therefore, he was in the saddle and 
 flying across country at a pace such as he never imagined any energy 
 could have exacted from him. 
 
 " They have got a ladder up to the windows of the large drawing, 
 room, Miss Mary," said a servant; "they'll be in before many 
 minutes." 
 
 Taking do^vn two splendidly ornamented pistols from above the 
 chimney-piece, Mary examined the priming, and ordering the servant 
 away, she descended by a small private stair to the drawing-room 
 beneath. Scarcely, however, had she crossed the threshold than she 
 was met by a man eagerly hurrying away. Stepping back in astonish- 
 ment, and with a face pale as death, he exclaimed, " la it Miss 
 Martin ?"
 
 '^■^M 
 
 '. II 
 
 
 :/-. 
 
 ■y'>Z.<^ 
 
 // 
 
 /....,. A
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 475 
 
 " Tes, Sir," replied she, firmly ; " and your name ?" 
 
 "Mr. Merl — Herman Merl," said he, with a stealthy glance to- 
 ■wards the windows, on the outside of which two fellows were now 
 seated, communicating with those helow. 
 
 " This is not a moment for much ceremony. Sir," said she, promptly ; 
 *' but you are here opportunely. These people will have it that I am 
 harbouring here one that they are in pursuit of. I have assured them 
 of their error, I have pledged my word of honour upon it, but they 
 are not satisfied. They declare that they Avill search the house, and 
 J as firml}^ declare they shall not." 
 
 " But the person is really not here r" broke in Merl. 
 
 "I have said so. Sir," rejoined she, haughtily. 
 
 " Then why not let them search ? Egad, Id say, look away to your 
 heart's content, pry into every hole and corner you please, only don't 
 do any mischief to the furniture — don't let any " 
 
 " I was about to ask your assistance. Sir, but your counsel saves 
 me from tlie false step. To one who proffers such wise advice, argu- 
 ments like these" — and she pointed to the pistols — "arguments like 
 these would be most distasteful ; and yet let us see if others may not 
 be of your mind too." And steadily aiming her weapon for a second 
 or two, she sent a ball through the A\indow, about a foot above the 
 head of one of the fellows without. Scarcely had the report rung out 
 and the splintering glass fallen, than the two men leaped to the 
 ground, while a wild cheer, half derision, half anger, burst from the 
 mob beneath, "Now, Sir," continued she, with a smile of a very 
 peculiar meaning, as she turned towards INIerl — " now, Sii-, you will 
 perceive that you have got into very indiscreet company, such as I'm 
 sure Captain Martin's letter never prepared you for ; and although it 
 is not exactly in accordance with the usual notions of Irish hospita- 
 lity to point to the door, perhaps you will be grateful to me when I 
 say that you can escape by that corridor. It leads to a stair which 
 will conduct you to the stable-yard. I'll order a saddle-horse lor 
 you. I supposeyou ride ?" And ideally the glance which accompanied 
 these words was not a flattery. 
 
 However the proposition might have met Mr. Merl's wishes there 
 is no means of knowing, for a tremendous crash now inteiTupted the 
 colloquy, and the same instant the door of the drawing-room was 
 burst open, and Magennis, followed by a number of country people, 
 entered. 
 
 " I told you," cried he, rudely, " that I'd not be denied. It's your 
 own fault if you would drive me to enter here by force."
 
 476 THE :maiitixs of ceo' martin, 
 
 "Well, Sir, force has done it," said she, taking a seat as she spolce. 
 " I am here alone, and you may be proud of the achievement !" The 
 glance she directed towards !Mcrl made that gentleman shrink back, 
 and eventually slide noiselessly from the room, and escape from the 
 scene altogether. 
 
 " If you'll send any one with me through the house, Miss Martin," 
 began Magennis, in a tone of much subdued meaning 
 
 "No, Sir," broke she in — "no, Sir, I'll give no such order. Tou 
 have already had my solemn word of honour, assuring you that there 
 was not any one concealed here. The same incredulous disrespect you 
 have shown to my word would accompany whatever direction I gave 
 to my servants. Go wherever you please ; for the time you are the 
 master here. Mark me. Sir," said she, as half crestfallen, and in 
 evident shame, he was about to move from the room — "mark me, 
 Sir, if I feel sorry that one who calls himself a gentleman should 
 dishonour his station by discrediting the word, the plighted word, of 
 a lady, yet I can forgive much to him whose feelings are under the 
 impulse of passion. But how shall I speak my contempt for you " — 
 and she turned a withering look of scorn on the men who followed 
 him — " for you, who have dared to come here to insult me — I, that 
 if you had the least spark of honest manhood in your natures, you 
 had died rather than have offended ? Is this your requital for the 
 part I have borne amongst you ? Is it thus that you repay the de- 
 votion by which I have squandered all that I possessed, and would 
 have given my life, too, for you and yours ? Is it thus, think you, 
 that your mothers, and wives, and sisters, woidd requite me ? Or will 
 they welcome you back from your day's work, and say. Bravely done ? 
 Tou have insulted a lone girl in her home, outraged the roof whence 
 she never issued save to serve you, and taught her to believe that 
 the taunts your enemies cast upon you, and which she once took as 
 personal affronts to herself, that they are just and true, and as 
 less than you merited. Go back, men," added she, in a voice 
 trembling with emotion — " go back, wliile it is time. Go back in 
 shame, and let me never know who has dared to offer me this insult !" 
 And she hid her face between her hands, and bent down her head 
 upon her lap. For several minutes she remained thus, overwhelmed 
 and absorbed by intensely painful emotion, and when she lifted up 
 her head, and looked around, they were gone ! A solemn silence 
 reigned on every side ; not a word, nor a footfall, could be heard. 
 She rushed to the window just in time to see a number of men 
 slowly entering the wood, amidst whom she recognised Magennis,
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 477 
 
 leading his horse by the bi'idle, and following the others, with bent- 
 down head and sorrowful mien. 
 
 " Oh, thank Heaven for this !" cried she, passionately, as the tears 
 guslied out and coursed down her face. " Thank Heaven that they 
 are not as others call them — cold-hearted and treacherous, craven in 
 their hour of trial, and cruel in the day of tlieir vengeance ! I knew 
 them better!" It was long before she could sufficiently subdue lier 
 emotion to think calmly of what had occurred. At last she bethought 
 her of Mr. Merl, and despatclied a servant in his pursuit, with a 
 polite request that he would return. The man came up with Merl 
 as he had reached the small gate of the park, but no persuasions, no 
 entreaties, could prevail on that gentleman to retrace his steps ; nay, 
 he was frank enough to say, " He had seen quite enough of the West," 
 and to invoke something very unlike benediction on his head if he 
 ever passed another day in Galway. 
 
 CHAPTER XLYIII. 
 
 MK. MEEL's "last" IKISH IMPRESSION. 
 
 Never once turning his head towards Cro' Martin, Mr. Merl set 
 out for Oughterard, where weary and footsore he arrived that same 
 eveninsf. His first care was to take some refreshment, his next to 
 order horses for Dublin early for the following morning. This done, 
 he sat down to write to Captain Martin, to coiivcy to him what Mr. 
 Merl designated as a " piece of his mind," a phrase which in popular 
 ciirrency is always understood to imply the very reverse of any 
 flattery. The truth was, Mr. Merl began to suspect that his Irish 
 liens were a very bad investment, tliat property in that coimtry was 
 held under something like a double title — the one, conferred by law, 
 the other, maintained by a resolute spirit and a stout heart ; that 
 parchments required to be seconded by pistols, and that he who 
 owned an estate must always hold himself in readiness to fight for it. 
 
 Now these were all very unpalatable considerations. They ren- 
 dered possession perilous, they made sale almost impossible. In the 
 cant phrase of Ceylon, the Captain had sold him a wild elephant ; or,
 
 478 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 to speak less figuratively, disposed of what lie well know the purchaser 
 could never avail himself of. If Mr. Merl was an emblem of bland- 
 ness and good temper at the play-table, courteous and conceding at 
 every incident of the game, it was upon the very wise calculation 
 that the politeness was profitable. The little irregvdaritics that he 
 pardoned all gave him an insight into the character of his antagonists, 
 and where he appeared to have lost a battle, he had gained more than 
 a victory in knowledge of the enemy. 
 
 These blandishments were, however, no real part of the man's 
 natural temperament, which was eminently distrustful and suspicious, 
 wary to detect a blot, prompt and sharp to hit it. A vague, unde- 
 j&ned impression had now come over him that the Captain had over- 
 reached him ; that even if unencumbered — which was far from the 
 case — this same estate was like a forfeited territory, which, to 
 own, a man must assert his mastery with the strong hand of force. 
 " I should like to see myself settling down amongst these savages," 
 thought he, " collecting my rents with dragoons, or levying a fine 
 with artillery. Property, indeed ! Ton might as well convey to me 
 by bill of sale the right over a drove of wild buffaloes in South 
 America, or give me a title to a given number of tigers in Bengal. 
 He'd be a bold man that would even venture to come and have a 
 look at 'his own.' " 
 
 It was in this spirit, therefore, that he composed his epistle, which 
 assuredly lacked nothing on the score of frankness and candour. All 
 his "Irish impressions" had been unfavourable. He had eaten 
 badly, he had slept worse; the travelling was rude, the climate 
 detestable ; and lastly, where he had expected to have been charmed 
 with the ready wit, and amused with the racy humour of the people, 
 he had only been terrified — terrified almost to death — by their wild 
 demeanour, and a ferocity that made his heart quake. " Tour 
 cousin," said he — " your cousin, whom, by the way, I only saw for a 
 few minutes, seemed admirably adapted to the exigencies of the 
 social state around her ; and although ball practice has not been 
 included amongst the ordinary items of young ladies' acquirements, 
 I am satisfied that it might advantageously form part of an Irish 
 education. 
 
 "As to your offer of a seat in Parliament, I can only say," con- 
 tinued he, " that as the Member of Oughterard I should always feel 
 as though I were seated over a barrel of gunpowder, while the very 
 idea of meeting my constituency makes me shudder. I am, however, 
 quite sensible of the honour intended me, both upon that score and in
 
 THE MAETIXS OF CRo' MAETIN. 479 
 
 your proposal of my taking up my residence at Cro' Martin. The 
 social elevation and so forth to ensue from such a course of proceed- 
 ing would have this disadvantage — it would not pay ! No, Captain 
 Martin, the settlement between us must stand upon another basis — 
 the very simple and matter-of-fact one, called £ s. d. I shall leave 
 this to-morrow, and be in town, I hope, by Wednesday ; you can, 
 therefore, give your man of business, Mr. Saunders, his instructions 
 to meet me at Wimpole's, and state what terms of liquidation he is 
 prepared to offer. Suffice it for the present to say, that I decline any 
 arrangement which should transfer to me any portion of the estate. 
 I declare to you, frankly, I'd not accept the whole of it on the condi- 
 tion of retaining the proprietorship." 
 
 When Mr. Merl had just penned the last sentence, the door 
 slowly and cautiously was opened behind him, and a very much car- 
 buncled face protruded into the room. " Yes, that's himself," mut- 
 tered a voice, and ere Merl had been able to detect the speaker the 
 door was closed. Tliese casual interruptions to his privacy had so 
 frequently occurred since the commencement of his tour, that he only 
 included them amongst liis other Irish " disagrcables ;" and so he 
 was preparing to enter upon another paragraph when a very decisive 
 knock at the door startled him, and before he could say " Come in," 
 a tall, red-faced, vulgar-looking man, somewhat stooped in the 
 shoulders, and with that blear-eyed watery expression so distinctive 
 in hard drinkers, slowly entered, and shutting the door behind him, 
 advanced to the fire. 
 
 " My name, Sir, is Brici'ley," said he, with a full, rich brogue. 
 
 " Brierley — Brierley — never heard of Brierley before," said Mr. 
 Merl, affecting a flippant ease that was very remote from his heart. 
 
 " Better late than never, Sir," rejoined the other, coolly seating him- 
 self, and crossing his arms on his breast. " I have come here on the 
 part of my friend Tom — Mr. Magennis, I mean, of Barnagheela, who 
 told me to track you out." 
 
 " Much obliged, I'm sure, for the attention," said Merl, with an 
 assumed smartness. 
 
 " That's all right — so you should," continued Brierley. " Tom told 
 me that you were present at Cro' Martin when he was outraged and 
 insulted — by a female, of course, or he wouldn't be making a com- 
 plaint of it, now — and as he is not the man that ever lay under a thing 
 of the kind, or ever Avill, he sent me here to you, to arrange where 
 you'd like to have it, and when." 
 
 " To have what ?" asked Merl, with a look of unfeigned ten'or.
 
 480 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 " Baytbersliiu ! how dull we are," said Mr. Brierley, with a finger 
 to liis very red nose. "Sure it's not thinking of the King's Bench 
 you are, that you want me to speak clearer." 
 
 " I want to know your meaning, Sir — if you have a meaning." 
 
 " Be cool, honey — keep yourself cool. Without you happen to find 
 that warmth raises your heart, I'd say again, be cool. I've one 
 simple question to ask you" — here he dropped his voice to a low, 
 cautious whisper— " Will ye blaze?" 
 
 " AVill I what?" cried Merl. 
 
 Mr. Brierley arose, and drawing himself up to his full height, ex- 
 tended his arm in the attitude of one taking aim with a pistol. 
 "Ell !" cried he, "you comprehend me now, don't you?" 
 
 " Fight — fight a duel!" exclaimed Merl, aloud. 
 
 " Whisht ! whisht ! speak lower," said Brierley ; " there's may be a 
 chap listening at the door tliis minute !" 
 
 Accepting the intimation in a very different spirit from that in which 
 it was ofiered, Merl rushed to the door, and threw it wide open. 
 "Waiter! — landlord! — house! — waiter!" screamed he, at the top of 
 his voice. And in an instant three or four slovenly-looking fellows, 
 with dirt}"- napkins in dirtier hands, surrounded him. 
 
 " AVhat is it, your Honor? — what is it?" asked they in a breath. 
 
 " Don't you hear Avhat the gentleman's asking for?" said Brierley, 
 with a half-serious face. " He wants a chaise to the door as quick as 
 lightning. He's off this minute." 
 
 " Yes, by Jupiter ! that I am," said Merl, wiping the perspiration 
 from his forehead. 
 
 " Take your last look at the West, dear, as you pass the Shannon, 
 for I don't think you'll ever come so far again," said Brierley, with 
 a grin, as he moved by him to descend the stairs. 
 
 " If I do, may " But the slam of his room-door, and the rattle 
 
 of the key as he locked it, cut short Mr. Merl's denunciation. 
 
 In less than half an hour afterwards a yellow post-chaise left the 
 Martin Arms at full speed, a wild yell of insult and derision greet- 
 ing it as it swept by, showing how the Oughterard public appreciated 
 its inmate !
 
 ■?^£^ 
 
 !\ 
 
 \^ 
 
 \ 
 
 V 
 
 N 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 V
 
 THE MAETIKS OF CRO' MARTIN. 481 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIX. 
 
 SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLIRTATION. 
 
 Most travelled reader, have you ever stood upon the plateau at 
 the foot of the Alteu-Schloss in Baden, just before sunset, and seen 
 the golden glory spread out like a sheen over the vast plain beneath 
 you, with waving forests, the meandering Rhine, and the blue Vosges 
 mountains beyond all ? It is a noble landscape, where every feature 
 is bold, and throughout which light and shade alternate in broad, 
 eflFective masses, showing that you are gazing on a scene of great 
 extent, and taking in miles of country with your eye. It is essen- 
 tially German, too, in its characteristics. The swelling undulations 
 of the soil, the deep, dark forests, the picturesque homesteads, with 
 shadowy eaves and carved quaint balconies, the great gigantic waggous 
 slowly toiling through the narrow lanes, over which the " Lindens" 
 spread a leafy canopy, all are of the Vaterland. 
 
 Some fancied resemblance — it was in reality no more — to a view 
 from a window at Cro' Martin had especially endeared this spot to 
 Martin, who regularly was carried up each evening to pass an hour or 
 so, dreaming away in that half-unconsciousness to which his malady 
 had reduced him. There he sat, scarcely a remnant of his former 
 self, a leaden dulness in his eye, and a massive immobility in the 
 features which once were plastic with every passing mood that stirred 
 him. The clasped hands and slightly bent-down head gave a charac- 
 ter of patient, unresisting meaning to his figure, wliich tlie few words 
 he dropped from time to time seemed to confirm. 
 
 At a little distance oft", and on the very verge of the cliff", Kate 
 Henderson was seated sketching, and behind her, occasionally turning 
 to walk up and do\^n the terraced space, was Massingbred, once more 
 in full health, and bearing in appearance the signs of his old, im- 
 patient humour. Throwing away his half-smoked cigar, and with a 
 face Avhose expression betokened the very opposite of all calm and 
 ease of mind, he drew nigh to where she sat, and watched her over 
 her shoulder. For a while she worked away without noticing his 
 presence. At last she turned slightly about, and looking up at him, 
 said, "Ton see, it's very nearly finished." 
 
 " Well, and what then?" asked lie, bluntly. 
 
 "Do you forget that I gave you until tluit time to change your 
 
 2 I
 
 482 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 opinion? that when I was shadowing in this foreground I said, 
 ' Wait till I have done this sketch, and see if you be of the same 
 mind,' and you agreed ?" 
 
 " This might be very pleasant trifling if nothing were at stake, 
 Miss Henderson," said he ; " but remember that I cannot hold all 
 my worldly chances as cheaply as you seem to do them." 
 
 " Light another cigar, and sit down here beside me — I don't dis- 
 like smoke, and it may perchance be a peace calumet between us — 
 and let us talk, if possible, reasonably and calmly." 
 
 He obeyed like one who seemed to feel that her word was a com- 
 mand, and sat down on the clifl" at her side. 
 
 "There, now," said she, " be useful ; hold that colour-case for me> 
 and give me your most critical counsel. Do you like my sketch ?" 
 
 "Very much iudeed." 
 
 " "Where do you find fault with it ? There must be a fault, or 
 your criticism is worth nothing." 
 
 " Its greatest blemish in my eyes is the time it has occupied you. 
 Since you began it you have very rarely condescended to speak of 
 anything else." 
 
 "A most unjust speech, and an ungrateful one. It was when 
 throwing in those trees yonder, I persuaded you to recall your fare- 
 well address to your borough friends ; it was the same day that I 
 sketched that figure there, that I showed you the great mistake of 
 your present life. There is no greater error, believe me, than sup- 
 posing that a Parliamentary success, like a social one, can be achieved 
 by mere brilliancy. Party is an army, and you must serve in the 
 ranks before you can wear your epaulets." 
 
 " I have told you already — I tell you again— I'm tired of the 
 theme that has myself alone for its object." 
 
 " Of whom would you speak, then ?" said she, still intently busied 
 with her drawing. 
 
 "Tou ask me when you know well of whom," said he,- hurriedly. 
 " iSTay, no menaces ; I could not if I would be silent. It is impos- 
 sible for me any longer to continue this struggle with myself. Here 
 
 now, before I leave this spot, you shall answer me " He stopped 
 
 suddenly, as though he had said more than he intended, or more than 
 he well knew how to continue. 
 
 " Go on," said she, calmly. And her fingers never trembled as they 
 held the brush. 
 
 " I confess I do envy that tranquil spirit of yours," said he, bit- 
 terly. " It is such a triumph to be calm, cold, and impassive at a
 
 THE MAETINS 01" CEO' MABTIK. 483 
 
 moment wlien others feel their reason tottering and their brain a 
 chaos." 
 
 " There is nothing so easy, Sir," said she, proudly. " All that I 
 can boast of is not to have indulored in illusions which seem to have a 
 charm for yoiiy. You say you want explicitness. You shall have it. 
 There was one condition on which I oftered you my friendship and 
 my advice. You accepted the bargain, and we were friends. After 
 a while you came and said that you rued your compact ; that you dis- 
 covered your feelings for me went further ; that mere friendship, as 
 you phrased it, would not suffice " 
 
 " I told you, rathei'," broke he in, " that I wished to put that 
 feeling to the last test, by linldng your fortune with my own for 
 ever." 
 
 " Very well, I accept that version. You offered to make me your 
 wife, and in return, I asked you to retract your words — to suffer our 
 relations to continue on their old footing, nor subject me to the ne- 
 cessity of an explanation painful to both of us. For a while you con- 
 sented, now, you seem impatient at your concession, and ask me to 
 resume the subject. Be it so — but for the last time." 
 
 Massingbred's cheeks grew deadly pale, but he never uttered a 
 word. 
 
 After a second's pause, she resumed : " Your affections are less 
 engaged in this case than you think. You would make me your wife 
 just as you would do anything else that gave a bold defiance to the 
 world, to show a consciousness of your own power, to break down any 
 obstacle, and make the prejudices or opinions of society give way 
 before you. You have energy and self-esteem enough to make this 
 succeed. Your wife — albeit the steward's daughter — the govei-ness ! 
 would be received, invited, visited, and the rest of it ; and so far as 
 you were concerned the triumph would be complete. Now, however, 
 turn a little attention to the other side of the medal. "What is to 
 requite me for all this courtesy on sufferance — all this mockery of 
 consideration? Where am I to fi.nd my fi'iendships — where even 
 discover my duties ? You only know of one kind of pride, that of 
 station and social eminence. I can tell you there is another, loftier 
 far — the consciousness that no inequality of position can obliterate 
 Avhat I feel and know in myself of superiority to those fine ladies, 
 whose favourable notice you would entreat for me. Smile at the vanity 
 of this declaration if you like. Sir, but at least own that I am con- 
 sistent, for I am prouder in the independence of my present depend- 
 ence than I should be in all the state of Mr. Massingbred's wife. 
 
 2i2
 
 484 THE MABTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 You can see, therefore, that I could not accept this change as the 
 great elevation you would deem it. Tou woidd be stooping to raise 
 one who could never persuade herself that she was exalted. I am 
 well aware that inequality of one sort or another is tlie condition of 
 most marriages. The rank of one compeusates for the wealth of the 
 other. Here, it is affluence and age, there, it is beauty and poverty. 
 People treat the question in a good commercial spirit, and balance 
 the profit and loss like tradesfolk ; but even in this sense our com- 
 pact would be impossible, since you would endow me with what has 
 no value in my eyes, and /, worse off still, have absolutely nothing to 
 give in return." 
 
 " Give me your love, dearest Kate," cried he, " and, supported by 
 that, you shall see that I deserve it. Believe me, it is your own 
 proud spirit that exaggerates the difficulties that would await us in 
 society." 
 
 " I should scorn myself if I thought of them," broke she in, 
 haughtily ; " and remember, Sir, these are not the words of one who 
 speaks in ignorance. I, too, have seen that great world, on which 
 yoiu' affections are so fixed. I have mixed with it, and know it. 
 Notwithstanding all the cant of moralists, I do not believe it to be 
 more hollow, or more heartless than other classes. Its great be- 
 setting sin is not of self-growth, for it comes of the slavish adula- 
 tion offered by those beneath it, the grovelling worship of the would- 
 be fine folk, who would leave friends, and home, and hearth, to be 
 admitted even to the ante-chambers of the great. They who offer up 
 this incense are in my eyes far more despicable than they who 
 accept the sacrifice ; but I would not cast my lot with either. Do not 
 smile. Sir, as if these were high-flown sentiments; they are the 
 veriest common-places of one who loves common-place, who neither 
 seeks afiections with coronets nor friendships in gold coaches, but 
 who would still less be of that herd — mute, astonished, and awe- 
 struck — who worship them!" 
 
 " Tou deem me, then, deficient in this same independence of 
 spirit?" cried Massingbred, half indignantly. 
 
 " I certainly do not accept your intention of marrying beneath you 
 as the proof of it. Must I again tell you. Sir, that in such cases it 
 is the poor, weak, patient, forgotten woman pays all the penalty, and 
 that, in the very conflict with the world, the man has his reward ?" 
 
 " If you loved me, Kate," said he, in a tone of deep sorrow, " it is 
 not thus you would discuss this question." 
 
 She made no reply, but bending down lower over her drawing, 
 worked away with increased rapidity.
 
 THE aiAUTINS OF CEO' MAETIN, 485 
 
 " Still," cried he, passionately, " I am uot to be deterred by a 
 defeat. Tell me, at least, how I can win that love, which is to me the 
 great prize of life. Tou read my faults, you see my short-comings 
 clearly enough, be equally just, then, to anytliing there is of good or 
 hopeful about me. Do this, Kate, and I will put my fate upon the 
 issue." 
 
 "In plain words," said she, calmly, "you ask me what manner of 
 man I would consent to marry. I'll tell you. One who with ability 
 enough to attain any station, and talents to gain any eminence, has 
 lived satisfied with that in which he was born ; one who has made 
 the independence of his character so felt by the world that his actions 
 have been regarded as standards, a man of honour and of his word ; 
 employing his knowledge of life, not for purposes of overreaching, but 
 for self-correction and improvement ; well bred enough to be a Peer, 
 simple as a Peasant ; such a man, in fact, as could allbrd to marry a 
 governess, and while elevating her to his station, never compromise 
 his own with his equals. I don't flatter myself," said she, smiling, 
 " that I'm likely to draw this prize, but I console myself by thinking 
 that I could not accept aught beneath it, as great fortune. I see, Sir, 
 the humility of my pretensions amuses you, and it is all the better for 
 both of us if we can treat these things jestingly." 
 
 " Nay, Kate, you are uuftiir — UDJust," broke in Massingbred. 
 "Mr. Martin begins to feel it chilly, Miss Henderson," said a ser- 
 vant at this moment. " Shall we return to the hotel ?" 
 
 " Yes, by all means," said she, rising hastily. The next instant 
 she was busily engaged shawling and muffling the sick man, who 
 accepted her attentions with the submissiveness of a child. 
 
 "That will do, Molly; thank you, darling," said he, in a feeble 
 voice; "you are so kind, so good to me." 
 
 " The evening is fresli. Sir, almost cold," said she. 
 " Yes, dear, the climate is not wliat it used to be. AVe have cut 
 down too many of those trees, Molly, yonder." And he pointed with 
 his thin fingers towards the Illiine. " We have thinned the wood 
 overmuch, but they'll grow again, dcai", though I shall not be here 
 to see them." 
 
 " He thinks I am his niece," whispered Kate, " and fancies himself 
 at Cro' Martin." 
 
 " I suppose they'll advise my trying a warm country^ Molly, a 
 milder air," muttered he, as they slowly carried him along. " But 
 home, after all, is home ; out- likes to see the old faces and the old 
 objects around them — all the more when about to leave them for 
 ever ! " And as the last words came, two heavy tears stole slowly
 
 486 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MA.ETIN. 
 
 along Ills cheeks, and his pale lips quivered with emotion. Now, 
 speaking iu a low, Aveak voice to himself, now, sighing heavily as 
 though in deep depression, be was borne along towards the hotel. 
 Nor did the gay and noisy groups which thronged tlie thoroughfares 
 arouse him. He saw them, but seemed not to heed them. His dreary 
 gaze wandered over the brilliant panorama without interest or specu- 
 lation. Some painful and difficult thoughts, perhaps, did all these 
 unaccustomed sights and sounds bring across his mind, embarrassing 
 him to reconcile their presence with the scene he fancied himself 
 beholding ; but even these impressions were faint and fleeting. 
 
 As they turned to cross the little rustic bridge in front of the hotel, 
 a knot of persons moved oft' the path to make way for them, one of 
 whom fixed his eyes steadily on the sick man, gazing with the keen 
 scrutiny of intense interest ; then suddenly recalling himself to recol- 
 lection, he hastily retreated within the group. 
 
 "You are right," muttered he to one near him, "he is ' booked ;' 
 my bond will come due before the month ends." 
 
 " And you'll be an estated gent, Herman, eh ?" said a very dark- 
 eyed, hook-nosed man at his side. 
 
 ""Well, I hope I shall act the part as well as my neighbours," said 
 Mr. Merl, with that mingled assurance and humility that made up 
 his manner. 
 
 " Wasn't that Massingbred that followed them — he that made the 
 famous speech the other day in Parliament r" 
 
 " Yes," said Merl. " I've got a bit of ' stiff' with his endorsement 
 in my pocket this minute for one hundred and fifty." 
 
 " What's it worth, Merl ?" 
 
 " Perhaps ten shillings, but I'd not part with it quite so cheaply. 
 He'll not always be an M.P., and we shall see if he can afford to 
 swagger by an old acquaintance without so much as a ' How d'ye 
 do?'" 
 
 " There, he is coming back again," said the other. And at the same 
 moment Massingbred walked sloAvly up to the spot, his easy smile 
 upon his face, and his whole expression that of a careless, unburdened 
 nature." 
 
 " I just caught a glimpse of you as I passed, Merl," said he, with a 
 familiar nod ; " and you were exactly the man I wanted to see." 
 
 " Too much honour, Sir," said Merl, affecting a degree of haughty 
 distance at the familiarity of this address. 
 
 Massingbred smiled at the mock dignity, and went on : "I have 
 something to say to you. Will you give me a call this evening at 
 the Cour de Bade, say about nine or half-past?"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETI>r. 487 
 
 " I have an engagement this evening." 
 
 " Put it ofl", then, that's all, Master Merl, for mine is an important 
 matter, and very nearly concerns yourself." 
 
 Merl was silent. He would have liked much to display before his 
 friends a little of the easy dash and swagger that he had just been 
 exhibiting, to liave shown tliem how cavalierly he could treat a rising ' 
 statesman and a young Parliamentary star of the first order ; but the 
 question crossed him, Was it safe ? what might the luxury cost him ? 
 "Am I to bring that little acceptance of yours along with me?" 
 said he, in a half whisper, while a malicious sparkle twinkled in his 
 eye. 
 
 " "Why not, man ? Certainly, if it gives you the least pleasure in 
 life ; only don't be later than half-past nine." And vdth one of his 
 sauciest laughs Massingbred moved away, leaving the Jew very far 
 from content with "the situation." 
 
 Merl, however, soon rallied. He had been amusing his friends, 
 just before this interruption, with a narrative of his Irish journey : he 
 now resumed the theme. All that he found faulty, all even that he 
 deemed new, or strange, or unintelligible in that unhappy country, he 
 had dressed up in the charming colours of his Cockney vocabulary, 
 and his hearers were worthy of him ! There is but little temptation, 
 however, to linger in their company, and so we leave them. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 LADY DOROTHEA. 
 
 The Cour de Bade, at which excellent hotel the Martins were in- 
 stalled, received on tlie day we have just chronicled a new arrival. 
 He had come by tlie diligence, one of that imdistinguishable ten 
 thousand England sends off every week from her shores to represent 
 her virtues or her vices, her oddities, vulgarities, and pretensions to 
 the critical eyes of continental Europe. 
 
 Perfectly innocent of any foreign language, and with a delight! ul 
 ambiguity as to the precise geography of where he stood, ho suc- 
 ceeded, after some few failures, in finding out where the Martins 
 stopped, and had now sent up his name to Lady Dorothea, that name 
 being " IVIr. Maimce Scanlan."
 
 4SS THE MARTINS OF CBO' MAKTIN. 
 
 Lady Dorotlica Martin had given positive orders tbat except in 
 the particular case of tliis individual she was not to be interrupted by 
 any visitor. She glanced her eye at the card, and then handed it 
 across the table to her son, who coolly read it, and threw it from him 
 with the air of one saying to himself, " Here's more of it ! more 
 complication, more investigation, deeper research into my miserable 
 difficulties, and consequently more unhappiness." The table at which 
 they were seated was thickly covered with parchments, papers, docu- 
 ments, and letters of every shape and size. There were deeds, and 
 bonds, and leases, rent-rolls, and valuations, and powers of attorney, 
 and all the other imposing accessories of estated property. There 
 were also voluminous bills of costs, formidable long columns of 
 figures, "carried over" and "carried over" till the very eye of the 
 reader wearied of the dread numerals and turned recklesslv to meet 
 the awful total at the bottom ! Terrified by the menacing applica- 
 tions addressed to Mr. Martin on his son's account, and which arrived 
 by every post. Lady Dorothea had resolved upon herself entering 
 upon the whole state of the Captain's liabilities, as well as the com- 
 plicated questions of the property generally. 
 
 Distrust of her own powers was not in the number of her Lady- 
 ship's defects. Sufficiently affluent to be always able to surround her- 
 self with competent subordinates, she fancied — a not very uncommon 
 error, by the way — that she individually accomplished all that she 
 had obtained through another. Her taste in the fine arts, her 
 skill in music, her excellence as a letter-writer were all accomplish- 
 ments in this wise ; and it is not improbable that, had she been 
 satisfied to accept her success in finance through a similar channel, 
 the result might have proved just as fortunate. A shrinking dis- 
 like, however, to expose the moneyed circumstances of the family, 
 and a feeling of dread as to the possible disclosures which should 
 come out, prevented her from accepting such co-operation. She had, 
 therefore, addressed herself to the task with no other aid than that 
 of her son — a partnership, it must be owned, which relieved her very 
 little of her burden ! 
 
 Had the Captain been called away from the pleasures and 
 amusements of life to investigate the dry records of some far-away 
 cousin's enibarrassments — to dive into the wearisome narrative of 
 money -borrowing, bill-renewing, and the rest of it, by one whom he 
 had scarcely known or seen — his manner and bearing could not pos- 
 sibly have betrayed stronger signs of utter weariness and apathy 
 than he now exhibited. Smoking his cigar, and trimming his nails 
 with a very magnificent penknife, he gave short and listless replies
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 489 
 
 to her Ladyship's queries, and did but glance at the papers which 
 from time to time she handed to him for explanation or inquiry. 
 
 " So he is come at last !" exclaimed slie, as the Captain threw 
 down the visiting-card. " Shall we see him at once ?" 
 
 " By Jove ! I think we've had enough of ' business,' as they call it, 
 for one morning," cried he. " Here have we been since a little after 
 eleven, and it is now four, and I am as sick of accounts and figures 
 as though I were a Treasury clerk." 
 
 " We have done next to nothing after all !" said she, peevishly. 
 
 " And I told you as much when you began," said he, lighting a fresh 
 cigar. " There's no seeing one's way through these kind of things after 
 the lapse of a year or two. Fordyce gets hold of the bills you gave 
 Mossop, and Eawkins buys up some of the things you had given re- 
 newals for, and then, all that trash you took in part payment of your 
 acceptances, turns up, some day or other, to be paid for ; and what 
 between the bills that never were to be negotiated — but somehow do 
 get abroad — and the sums sent to meet others applied in quite a 
 different direction, I'll lay eighty to fifty in tens or ponies there's no 
 gentleman living ever mastered one of these embarrassments. One 
 must be bred to it, my Lady, take my word for it. It's like being a 
 crack rider, or a poet — it's born with a man. 'The Henderson,' " 
 added he, after a pause, " she can do it, and I should like to see 
 what she couldn't!" » . 
 
 " I am curious to learn how you became acquainted with these 
 financial abilities of Miss Henderson ?" said Lady Dorothea, haughtily. 
 
 " Simply enough. I was poring over these confounded accounts 
 one day at Mauheim, and I chanced to ask her a question — some- 
 thing about compound interest, I think it was — and so she came and 
 looked over what I was doing, or rather endeavouring to do. It was 
 that affair with Throgmorton, Avhere I was to meet one-third of the 
 bills, and Merl and he were to look to the remainder ; but there was 
 a reservation that if Comus won the Oaks, I was to stand free — no, 
 that's not it — if Comus won the double event " 
 
 " Never mind your stupid contract. AV^hat of Miss Henderson ?" 
 broke in Lady Dorothea. 
 
 " Well, she came over, as I told you, and took up a pencil and 
 began working away with all sorts of signs and crosses — regular 
 algebra, by Jove ! — and in about five minutes out came the whole 
 thing, all square, showing that 1 stood to win ou either event, and 
 came ofi' splendidly if the double should turn up. ' I wish,' said I to 
 her, 'you'd just run your eye over my book and see how I stand.' 
 She took it over to the fire, and before I could well believe slie had
 
 490 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 glanced at it, she said, ' This is all full of blunders. Tou have left 
 yourself open to three casualties, any one of which will sweep away 
 all your winnings. Talce the odds on Eoehampton, and lay on 
 Slingsby a couple of hundred more — three, if you can get it — and 
 you'll be safe enough. And when you've done that,' said she, ' I 
 have another piece of counsel to give ; but first say will you take it ?' 
 ' I give you my word upon it,' said I. ' Then it is this,' said she : 
 ' make no more wagers on the turf. Tou haven't skill to make what 
 is called a " good book," and you'll always be a suflerer.' " 
 
 "Didn't she vouchsafe to offer you her admirable assistance?" 
 asked her Ladyship, with a sneer. 
 
 "No, by Jove!" said he, not noticing the tone of sarcasm; "and 
 when I asked her, ' AVould not she afford me a little aid ?' she quickly 
 said, ' Not on any account. Tou are now in a difiB.culty, and I 
 willingly come forward to extricate you. Far different were the case 
 should I conspire with you to place others in a similiar predicament. 
 Besides, I have your pledge that you have now done with these 
 transactions, and for ever.' " 
 
 " What an admirable monitor. One only wonders how so much 
 morality coexists with such very intimate knowledge of ignoble 
 pursuits." 
 
 " By Jove ! she knows everything," broke in the Captain. " Such 
 a canter as she gave me t'other mxOrning about idleness and the rest 
 of it, saying how I ought to study Hindostanee, and get a Staff ap- 
 pointment, and so on — that every one ought to place himself above 
 the accidents of fortune ; and when I said something about having no 
 opportunity at hand, she replied, ' Never complain of that ; begin 
 with me. I know quite enough to initiate you ; and as to Sanscrit, 
 I'm rather "up" in it.' " 
 
 "I trust you accepted the offer?" said her Ladyship, with an 
 ambiguous smile. 
 
 " "Well, I can't say I did. I hate work — at least that kind of work. 
 Besides, one doesn't like to come out ' stupid' in these kind of things, 
 and so I merely said, ' I'd think of it — very kind of lier,' and so on." 
 
 " Did it never occur to you all this wdiile," began her Ladyship ; 
 and then suddenly correcting herself, she stopped short, and said, 
 " By the way, Mr. Scanlan is waiting for his answer. Eing the bell, 
 and let him come in." 
 
 Perhaps it was the imperfect recollection of that eminent indi- 
 vidual — perhaps the altered circumstances in which she now saAv him, 
 and possibly some actual changes in the man himself— but really 
 Lady Dorothea almost started with surprise as he entered the room.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 491 
 
 dressed in a dark pelisse, richly braided and frogged, an embroidered 
 travelling-cap in his hand, and an incipient moustache on his 
 upper lip — all evidencing how rapidly lie had turned his foreign 
 experiences to advantage. There was, too, in his address a certain 
 confident assurance that told how quickly the habits of the " Table 
 d'hote" had impi'essed him, and how instantaneously his nature had 
 imbibed the vulgar ease of the " Continent." 
 
 "Toil have just arrived, Mr. Scanlan?" said her Ladyship, haugh- 
 tily, and not a little provoked at the shake-hand salutation her son 
 had accorded him. 
 
 " Yes, my Lady, this instant, and such a journey as we've had ! No 
 water on the Rhine for the steamers ; and then, when we took to 
 the land, a perfect deluge of rain, that nearly'swept us away. At 
 Eisleben, or some such name, we had an upset." 
 
 " What day did you leave Ireland?" asked she, in utter indifterence 
 as to the casualty. 
 
 " Tuesday fortnight last, my Lady. I was detained two days in 
 Dublin making searches " 
 
 " Have you brought us any letters. Sir?" 
 
 " One from Miss INIary, my Lady, and anotlier from Mr. Eepton — 
 very pressing he said it was. I hope Mr. Martin is better ? Tour 
 Ladyship's last " 
 
 " Not much improvement," said she, stiffly, while her thin lips 
 were compressed with an expression tliat might mean pride, or sor- 
 row, or both. 
 
 " And the country, Sir ? How did you leave it looking ?" 
 
 " Pretty well, my Lady. More frightened than hurt, as a body 
 might say. They've had a severe winter, and a great deal of sickness ; 
 the rains, too, have done a deal of mischief ; but on the whole matters 
 are looking up again." 
 
 " Will the rents be paid. Sir?" asked slie, sharply. 
 
 " Lideed I hope so, my Lady. Some, of course, will be backward, 
 and beg for time, and a few more will take advantage of Magennis's 
 success, and strive to fight us off." 
 
 " There must have been some gross mismanagement in that busi- 
 ness. Sir," broke in her Ladyship. " Had I been at home, I promise 
 you the matter would have ended differently." 
 
 "Mr. Eepton directed all the proceedings himself, my Lady. He 
 conferred with Miss Mary." 
 
 "What could a young lady know about such matters?" said she, 
 angrily. " Any prospect of a tenant for the house. Sir?" 
 
 "If your Ladyship really decides on not going back "
 
 492 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 " Not the slightest intention of doing so, Sir. If it depended upon 
 me, I'd rather pull it down and sell the materials than return to live 
 there. You know yourself, Sir, the utter barharism we were obliged 
 to submit to. No intercourse with the world — no society — very fre- 
 quently no communication by post. Surrounded by a set of ragged 
 creatures, all importunity and idleness, at one moment all defiance 
 and insolence, at the next, crawling and abject. But it is really a 
 theme I cannot dwell upon. Give me your letters, Sir, and let me 
 see you tliis evening." And taking the paj)ers from his hand, she 
 swept out of the room in a haughty state. 
 
 The Captain and Mr. Scanlan exchanged looks, and were silent, 
 but their glances were far more intelligible than aught either of them 
 would have ventured to say aloud : and when the attorney's eyes, 
 having followed her Ladysliip to the door, turned and rested on the 
 Captain, the other gave a brief short nod of assent, as though to say : 
 " Tes, you are right ; she's just the same as ever." 
 
 " And yow. Captain," said Scanlan, in his tone of natural famili- 
 arity, " how is the world treating ^ou ? " 
 
 " Devilish badly. Master Scanlan." 
 
 " Why, what is it doing then ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you what it's doing ! It's charging me fifty — ay, sixty 
 per cent. ; it's protesting my bills, stimulating my blessed creditors to 
 proceed against me, worrying my very life out of me with letters. 
 Letters to the Governor, letters to the Horse Guards, and, last of all, 
 it has just lamed Bonesetter, the horse ' I stood to win' on for the 
 Chester Cup. I wouldn't have taken four tliousand for my book 
 yesterday morning!" 
 
 "Bad news all this." 
 
 "I believe you," said he, lighting a cigar, and throwing another 
 across the table to Scanlan. " It's just bad news, and I have nothing 
 else for many a long day past. A fellow of your sort. Master Mau- 
 rice, punting away at county races and small sweepstakes, has a 
 precious deal better time of it than a Captain of the King's Hussars 
 with his head and shoulders in the Fleet." 
 
 " Come, come, who knows but luck will turn, Captain ? Make a 
 book on the Oaks." 
 
 " I've done it ; and I'm in for it, too," said the other, savagely. 
 
 " Eaise a few thousands, you can always sell a reversion," 
 
 " I have done that also," said he, still more angrily. 
 
 " With your position and advantages you could always marry well. 
 If you'd just beat up the manufacturing districts, you'd get yoiu* 
 eighty thousand as sure as I'm here ! And then matrimony admits
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAKTIIT. 493 
 
 of a man's changing all his habits. He can sell off hunters, get rid 
 of a racing stable, and twenty otlier little embarrassments — and only- 
 gain character by tlie economy." 
 
 " I don't care a brass farthing for that part of the matter, Scanlan. 
 No man shall dictate to me how I'm to spend my money. Do you 
 just find me the tin, and I'll find the talent to scatter it." 
 
 " If it can't be done by a post-obit " 
 
 "I tell you, Sir," cried Martin, peevishly, "as I have told you 
 before, that has been done. There is such a thing as pumpiug a well 
 dry, isn't there?" 
 
 Scanlan made a sudden exclamation of horror ; and, after a pause, 
 said, " Already !" 
 
 " Ay, Sir, already !" 
 
 " I had my suspicions about it," muttered Scanlan, gloomily. 
 
 "You had? And how so, may I beg to ask?" said Martin, 
 angrily. 
 
 " I saw him down there, myself." 
 
 " Saw whom ? Whom are you talking of?" 
 
 " Of that Jew, of course. Mr. Merl lie calls himself." 
 
 A faint groan was all Martin's reply, as he turned away to, hide his 
 face. 
 
 Scanlan watched him for a minute or so, and then resumed : " I 
 guessed at once what he was at ; Jie never deceived me, talking about 
 snipe and woodcocks, and pretending to care about liare-lumting. I 
 saw my man at a glance. ' It's not sporting ever brought you down 
 to these parts,' said I. ' Your game is young fellows, hard up for 
 cash, willing to give up their birthright for a few thousands down, 
 and never giving a second thought whether they paid twenty per 
 cent, or a hundred and twenty.' Well, well. Captain, you ought to 
 have told me all about it. There wasn't a man in Ireland could 
 have pulled you through like myself" 
 
 " How do you mean ?" cried Martin, hurriedly. 
 
 " Sure, when he was down in the AVest, what was easier ? Faix, if 
 I had only had the wind of a word that matters were so bad, I'd have 
 had the papers out of liim long ago. You shake your head as if you 
 didn't believe me ; but take my word for it, I'm right, Sir. I'd put 
 a quarrel on him." 
 
 " He'd not fight you !" said ^Martin, turning away in disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 " Maybe he wouldn't ; but mightn't ho be robbed ? Couldn't he be 
 waylaid, and carried off to the Islands ? There was no need to kill him. 
 Intimidation would do it all ! I'd lay my head upon a block this
 
 494 THE MAETINS OF CEO' ilAETlN. 
 
 minute if I wouldn't send him back to London without the back of a 
 letter in his company ; and what's more, a pledge that he'd never tell 
 what's happened to him!" 
 
 " These Cockney gents are more ' wide awake' than you suspect, 
 Master JNIauriee, and the chances are, that he never carried a single 
 paper or parchment along with him." 
 
 ""Worse for him, tlien," said Scanlan. "He'd have to pass the 
 rest of his days in the Arran Islands. But I'm not so sure he's as 'cute 
 as you think him," added Maurice, after a pause. "He left a little 
 note-book once behind him that told some strange stories, by all 
 accounts." 
 
 " What was that you speak of?" cried Martin, eagerly. 
 
 " I didn't see it myself, but Simmy Crow told me of it ; and that it 
 was full of all the fellows he ruined : how much he won from this 
 man — what he carried off from that ; and, moreover, there was your 
 own name, and the date of the very evening that he finished you off! 
 It was something in this wise: 'This night's work makes me an 
 estated gentleman, vice Harry Martin, Esquire, retired upon less 
 than half-pay!'" 
 
 A ten*ible oath, uttered in all the vehemence of a malediction, 
 burst from Martin, and seizing Scanlan' s wrist, he shook his arm in 
 an agony of passion. 
 
 " I wish I had given you a hint about him, Master Scanlan," said 
 he, savagely. 
 
 " It's too late to think of it now, Captain," said the other, "the 
 fellow is in Baden." 
 
 " Here ?" asked Martin. 
 
 " Ay. He came up the Ehine along with me ; but he never recog- 
 nised me — on account of my moustaches perhaps — he took me for a 
 Frenchman or a German, I think. "We parted at Mayence, and I 
 saw no more of him." 
 
 " I would that I was to see no more of him !" said Martin, gloomily, 
 as he walked into another room, banging the door heavily behind 
 him.
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIX. 495 
 
 CHAPTEE LI. 
 
 HOTV PRIDE MEETS PKIDE. 
 
 Kate Henderson sat alone in her room reading a letter from her 
 father. Her thoughtful brow a shade more serious perhaps than its 
 wont, and at times a faint, half-sickly smile moving her dimpled 
 cheek. The interests of our story have no concern with that letter, 
 save passingly, nor do we regret it. Enougli, if we say it was in 
 reply to one of her own, requesting permission to return home, until, 
 as she herself phrased it, she could " obtain another service." That 
 the request had met scant favour was easy to see, as, folding up the 
 letter, she laid it down beside her with a sigh and a muttered " I 
 thought as much !" — " ' So long as her ladyship is pleased to accept of 
 your services,'" said she, repeating aloud an expression of the 
 writer. " Well, I suppose he's right ; such is the true reading of 
 the compact, as it is of every compact where there is wealth on one 
 side, dependence on the other! Nor should I complain," said she, 
 still more resolutely, "if these same services could be rendered 
 toilfully, but costing nothing of self-sacrifice in honourable feeling. 
 I could be a drudge — a slave — to-morrow ; I could stoop to any 
 labour ; but I cannot — no, I cannot — descend to companionship ! 
 They who hire us," cried she, rising, and pacing the room in slow 
 and measured tread, " have a right to our capacity. "We are here to 
 do their bidding; but they can lay no claim to that over which we 
 ourselves have no control — our sympathies, our aflections — we can- 
 not sell these ; we cannot always give them, even as a gift." She 
 paused, and, opening the letter, read it for some seconds, and then 
 flinging it down with a haughty gesture, said, " ' Nothing menial — 
 nothing to complain of in my station !' Can he not see that tliere 
 is no such servitude as that which drags out existence, by subjecting, 
 not head and hands, but heart and soul, to the dictates of another ? 
 The menial — the menial has the best of it. Some stipulate that they 
 are not to wear a livery ; but what livery exacts such degradation 
 as this ?" And slie shook the rich folds of her heavy silk dress as slie 
 spoke. The tears rose up and diiumed her eyes, but they were tears 
 of offended pride, and as they stole slowly along her cheek, lier 
 features acquired an expression of intense haughtiness. " They who
 
 496 THE MABTINS OF ORO' MARTIN. 
 
 train their cliildrou to this career are but sorry calculators ! — edu- 
 cating them but to feel the bitter smart of their station, to see more 
 clearly the "wide gulf that separates them from what they live 
 amongst!" said she, in a voice of deep emotion. 
 
 "Her Ladyship, Miss Henderson," said a servant, throwing wide 
 the door, and closing it after the entrance of Lady Dorothea, who 
 swept into the room in her haughtiest of moods, and seated herself 
 with all that preparation that betokened a visit of importance. 
 
 "Take a seat. Miss Henderson," said she. And Kate obeyed in 
 silence. "If in the course of what I shall have to say to you," re- 
 sumed her Ladyship — " if in what I shall feel it my duty to say to you, 
 I may be betrayed into any expression stronger than in a calmer 
 moment would occur to me — stronger, in fact, than strict justice 
 might warrant " 
 
 "I beg your Ladyship's pardon if I interrupt, but I would beg to 
 remark " 
 
 " What ?" said Lady Dorothea, proudly. 
 
 " That simply your Ladyship's present caution is the best security'' 
 for future propriety. I ask no other." 
 
 " Tou presume too far, young lady. I cannot answer that my 
 temper may not reveal sentiments that my judgment or my breeding 
 might prefer to keep in abeyance." 
 
 " If the sentiments be there, my Lady, I should certainly say, 
 better to avow them," said Kate, with an air of most impassive cold- 
 ness. 
 
 " I'm not aware that I have asked your advice on that head, Miss 
 Henderson," said she, almost insolently. " At the same time, your 
 habits of late in this family may have suggested the delusion." 
 
 " "Will your Ladyship pardon me if I confess I do not understand 
 you?" 
 
 " Tou shall have little to complain of on that score. Miss Hender- 
 son ; I shall not speak in riddles, depend upon it. JSTor should that 
 be an obstacle if your intelligence were only the equal of your am- 
 bition." 
 
 " NoAv indeed is your Ladyship completely beyond me." 
 
 " Had you felt that I was as much ' above ' you, Miss Henderson, 
 it were more to the purpose." 
 
 " I sincerely hope that I have never forgotten all the deference I 
 owe your Ladyship," said Kate. Nor could humble words have taken 
 a more humble accent, and yet they availed little to conciliate her to 
 whom tliey were addressed ; nay, this very humility seemed to irritate
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 497 
 
 and provoke lier to a greater show of temper, as witli an insolent 
 laugh she said : 
 
 " This mockery of respect never imposed on me, young lady. I 
 have been bred and born in a rank -where real deference is so 
 invariable, that the fictitious article is soon detected, had there been 
 any hardy enough to attempt it." 
 
 Kate made no other answer to this speech than a deep inclination 
 of her head. It might mean assent, submission, anything. 
 
 "Tou may remember. Miss Henderson," said her Ladyship, with 
 all the formality of a charge in her manner — " you" may remember 
 that on the day I engaged your services you were obliging enough to 
 furnish me with a brief summary of your acquirements." She paused, 
 as if expecting some intimation of assent, and after an interval of a 
 few seconds, Kate smiled, and said : 
 
 "It must have been a very meagre catalogue, my Lady." 
 
 " Quite the reverse. It wns a perfect marvel to me how you ever 
 found time to store your mind witli such varied information ; and 
 yet, notwithstanding that imposing array of accomplishments, I now 
 find that your modesty — perhaps out of deference to my ignorance — 
 withheld fully as many more." 
 
 Kate's look of bewilderment at this speech was the only reply she 
 made. 
 
 " Oh, of course you do not understand me," said Lady Dorothea, 
 sneeringly, " but I mean to be most explicit. Have you any recol- 
 lection of the circumstance I allude to r" 
 
 " I remember perfectly the day. Madam, I waited on you for tlie 
 first time." 
 
 " That's exactly what I mean. Now, pray, has any portion of our 
 discourse dwelt upon your mind ?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady ; a remark of your Ladyship's made a considerable 
 impression upon me at the moment, and has continued frequently to 
 rise to my recollection since that." 
 
 " May I ask what it was ?" 
 
 " It was with reference to the treatment I had been so long accus- 
 tomed to in the family of the Duchesse de Luygnes, and wliich your 
 Lady shin characterised by an epithet I have never forgotten. At 
 the time I thought it, severe; I have learned to see it, just. You 
 called it an ' irreparable mischief.' Your Ladyship said jiio.st 
 truly." 
 
 "I was never more convinced of the fiict than at this very 
 moment," said Lady Dorothea, as a flush of anger covered her cheek.
 
 498 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 " The ill -judging condescension of your first protectors lias left a very 
 troublesome legacy for their successors. Your youth and inexpe- 
 rience — I do not desire to attribute it to anything more reprehen- 
 sible—led you, probably, into an error regarding the privileges you 
 thus enjoyed, and you fancied that you owed to your own claims 
 what you were entirely indebted to from the favour of others." 
 
 " I have no doubt that the observation of your Ladyship is quite 
 correct," said Kate, calmly. 
 
 " I sincerely wish that the comdction had impressed itself upon 
 your conduct then," said Lady Dorothea, whose temper was never so 
 outraged as by the other's self-possession. " Had such been the case, 
 I might have spared myself the unpleasantness of my present task." 
 Her passion was now fully roused, and with redoubled energy she 
 continued : " Tour ambition has taken a high flight, young lady, and 
 from the condescension by which I accorded you a certain degree of 
 influence in this family, you have aspired to become its head. Do 
 not affect any misconception of my meaning. My son has told mo 
 everything— everything — from your invaluable aid to him in his 
 pecuniary difficulties, to your sage counsels on his betting-book ; from 
 the admirable advice you gave him as to his studies, to the disinte- 
 rested offer of your own tuition. Be assured if Tie has not understood 
 all the advantages so generously presented to him, I at least appre- 
 ciate them fully. I must acknowledge you have played your game 
 cleverly, and you have made the mock independence of your character 
 the mask of your designs. "With another than myself you might 
 have succeeded, too," said her Ladyship, with a smile of bitter irony ; 
 " but I have few self-delusions, Miss Henderson, nor is there 
 amongst the number that of believing that any one serves me, in 
 any capacity, from any devotion to my own person. I flatter myself, 
 at least, that I have so much of humility." 
 
 " If I understand your Ladyship aright, I am charged with some 
 designs on Captain Martin?" said Kate, calmly. 
 
 "Yes; precisely so," said Lady Dorothea, haughtily. 
 "I can only protest that I am innocent of all such, my Lady," said 
 she, with an expression of great deference. " It is a charge that does 
 not admit of any other refutation, since, if I appeal to my conduct, 
 your Ladyship's suspicions would not exculpate me." 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " I thought so. AVhat, then, can I adduce ? I'm sure your Lady- 
 ship's own delicacy will see that this is not a case where testimony 
 can be invoked. I cannot — you would not ask me to — ^require an
 
 THE MAHTIKS OF CEO' MAETIN. 499 
 
 acquittal from the lips of Captain Martin himself ; humble as I stand 
 here, my Lady, you never could mean to expose me to this humilia- 
 tion." For the first time did her voice falter, and a sickly paleness 
 came over her as she uttered the last words. 
 
 " The humiliation which you had intended for this family, Miss 
 Henderson, is alone what demands consideration from me. If what you 
 call your exculpation requires Captain Martin's presence, I confess I 
 see no objection to it." 
 
 " It is only, then, because your Ladyship is angry witli me that 
 you could bring yourself to think so, especially since another and 
 much easier solution of the difficulty offers itself." 
 
 " How so ? What do you mean ?" 
 
 " To send me home. Madam." 
 
 " I understand you, young lady. I am to send you back to your 
 father's house as one whose presence here was too dangerous — whose 
 attractions could only be resisted by means of absence and distance. 
 A very interesting martyrdom might have been made of it, I've no 
 doubt, and even some speculation as to the conduct of a young 
 gentleman so suddenly bereaved of th0 object of his affections. But 
 all this is much too dignified for me. My sou shall be taught to re- 
 spect himself without the intervention of any contrivance." 
 
 As she uttered the last words she arose and approached the bell. 
 
 "Your Ladyship surely is not going ?" 
 
 " I am going to send for Captain Martin, Miss Henderson." 
 
 " Do not, I entreat of you — I implore your Ladyship," cried Kate, 
 with her clasped hands trembling as she spoke. 
 
 " This agitation is not without a cause, aud would alone decide me 
 to call for my son." 
 
 " If I have ever deserved well at your hands, my Lady — if I Lave 
 served you faithfully in anything— if my devotion has lightened you 
 of one care, or aided you through one difficulty — spare me, oh spare 
 mc, I beseech you, this — degradation!" 
 
 " I have a higher consideration to consult here. Miss Henderson, 
 than any which can have reference to you." She pulled the bell 
 violently, and while her hand still held the cord the servant entered. 
 " Tell Captain Martin to come here," said she, and sat down. 
 
 Kate leaned her arm upon the chimney-piece, and, resting her head 
 on it, never uttered a word. 
 
 For several minutes the silence was unbroken on either side. At 
 last Lady Dorothea started suddenly, and said : 
 
 "We cannot receive Captain Martin here." 
 
 2 K 2
 
 500 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 "Tour Ladyship is full of consideration!" said Kate, bitterly. 
 " For a moment I had thought it was only an additional humiliation 
 to which you had destined me." 
 
 " Follow me into the drawing-room, Miss Henderson," said Lady 
 Dorothea, proudly, as she left the room. And with slow, submissive 
 mien, Kate quitted the chamber and walked after her. 
 
 Scarcely had the door of the drawing-room been closed upon them 
 than it was re-opened to admit Captain Martin. He was booted and 
 spurred for his afternoon canter, and seemed in nowise pleased at the 
 sudden interruption to his project, 
 
 "They said you wanted me," cried he; "and here have I been 
 searching for you in your dressing-room, and all over the house," 
 
 " I desire to speak with you," said she, : proudly, as she motioned 
 to a chair. 
 
 " I trust the seance is to be a brief one, otherwise I'll beg a post- 
 ponement," said he, half laughingly. Then turning his glance to- 
 wards Kate, he remarked for the first time the death-like colour of 
 her face, and an expression of repressed suffering that all her self- 
 control could not conceal. " Has anything happened ? What is it ?" 
 said he, in a half-whisper. 
 
 But she never replied, nor even seemed to heed his question. 
 
 " Tell me, I beseech you," cried he, turning to Lady Dorothea — 
 " tell me has anything gone wrong ?" 
 
 "It is precisely on that account I have sent for you, Captain 
 Martin," said her Ladyship, as she assigned to him a seat with a. 
 motion of her hand. "It is because a great deal has gone wrong 
 here — and were it not for my vigilance, much more still likely to 
 follow it— I have sent for you. Sir, that you should hear from this 
 young lady's lips a denial which, I own, has not satisfied me. Nor 
 shall it, till it be made in your presence and meet with your cor- 
 roboration. Your looks, Miss Henderson," said she, addressing her, 
 " would imply that all the sufi'ering of the present moment falls to 
 1/otir share ; but I would beg you to bear in mind what a person in mi/ 
 sphere must endure at the bare possibility of the event which now 
 demands investigation," 
 
 "Good Heavens! will you not tell me what it is?" exclaimed 
 IMartin, in the last extremity of impatience, 
 
 " I have sent for you. Sir," resumed she, "that you should hear 
 Miss Henderson declare that no attentions on your part — no assi- 
 duities, I should perhaps call them — have ever been addressed to her ; 
 that, in fact" — here her Ladyship became embarrassed in her expla-
 
 THE MAUTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 501 
 
 nation — " that, in fact, those coimsels — those very admirable aids to 
 your conduct which she on so many occasions has vouchsafed to afford 
 you — have had no object — no ulterior object, I should perhaps call 
 it — and that your — your intercourse has ever been such as beseems 
 the heir of Cro' Martin and the daughter of the steward on that 
 property!" 
 
 "By Jove, I can make nothing of all this!" cried the Captain, 
 whose bewildered looks fully corroborated the assertion. 
 
 " Lady Dorothea, Sir, requires you to assure her that I have never 
 made love to you," said Kate Henderson, with a look of scorn that 
 her Ladyship did not dare to reply to. " /," added she, "have 
 already given my pledge on this subject. I trust that your testimony 
 will not gainsay me." 
 
 " Confound me if I can fathom it at all !" said he, more distracted 
 than ever. " If you are alluding to the offer I made you " 
 
 " The offer you made," cried Lady Dorothea. " When ? — how ? — 
 in what wise ?" 
 
 " No, no — I will speak out," said he, addressing Kate. "lam 
 certain you never divulged it — but I cannot accept that all the 
 honourable dealing should be on one side only. Tes, my Lady, how- 
 ever you learned it, I cannot guess, but it is perfectly true — I asked 
 Miss Henderson to be my wife, and she refused me." 
 
 A low, faint sigh broke from Lady Dorothea, and she fell back 
 into her chair. 
 
 " She would have it — it's not my fault — you are witness it's not," 
 muttered he to Kate. But she motioned him in silence to the door, 
 and then opening the window, that the fresli air might enter, stood 
 silently beside the chair. 
 
 A slight shivering shook her; and Lady Dorothea — her cheeks 
 almost lividly pale — raised her eyes, and fixed them on Kate Hen- 
 derson. 
 
 " You have had your triumph !" said she, in a low but firm voice. 
 
 " I do not feel it such, Madain," said Kate, calmly. " Nor is it 
 in a moment of hinniliation like this that a thought of triumph can 
 enter." 
 
 " Hear me — stoop down lower. You can leave this — to-morrow, if 
 you wish it." 
 
 Kate bowed slowly in acquiescence. 
 
 " I have no need to ask you that what lias occurred licre should 
 never be mentioned." 
 
 " You may trust mc, Madam."
 
 502 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MABTIH". 
 
 " I feel that I may. There — I am better — quite -u'cll, now ! Tou 
 may leave me." Kate curtseyed deeply, and moved towards the door. 
 " Quo word before you go. AVill you answer me one question ? I'll 
 ask but one — but your answer must be full, or not at all." 
 
 " So it shall be, Madam. "What is it ?" 
 
 " I want to know the reason — on what grounds — you declined the 
 proposal of my son ?" 
 
 " VoY the same good reason, Madam, that should have prevented 
 his ever making it." 
 
 " Disparity — inequality of station, you mean ?" 
 
 "Something like it, Madam. Our union would have been both a 
 blunder and a paradox. Each would have married beneath him!" 
 And once more curtseying, and with an air of haughty dignity, Kate 
 withdrew, and left her Ladyship to her own thoughts. 
 
 Strange and conflicting were the same thoughts ; at one moment 
 stimiilating her to projects of passionate vengeance, at the next sug- 
 gesting the warmest measures of reconciliation and affection. These 
 indeed predominated, for in her heart pride seemed the emblem of all 
 that was great, noble, or exalted, and when she saw that sentiment, 
 not fostered by the accidents of fortune, not associated with birth, 
 lineage, and high station, but actually rising superior to the absence 
 of all these, she almost felt a species of worship for one so gloriously 
 endowed. 
 
 " She might be a Duchess!" was the only speech she uttered, and 
 the Avords revealed a whole volume of her meditations. It was 
 curious enough how completely all recollection of her son was merged 
 and lost in the greater interest Kate's character supplied. But so is 
 it frequently in life. The traits which most resemble our own are 
 those we alone attach importance to, and what we fancy admiration 
 of another is very often nothing more than the gratified contem- 
 plation of ourselves.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 503 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 MAURICE SCANLAN ADVISES WITH "Hi's COUNSEL." 
 
 Jack Massingbeed sat iu expectation of Mr. Merl's arrival till 
 nigli ten o'clock, and if not manifesting any great degree of im- 
 patience at the delay, still showing unmistakalDle signs of uneasiness, 
 as thougli the event were not destitute of some cause for anxiety. 
 At last a note arrived to say that a sudden and imperative necessity 
 to start at once for England would prevent Mr. Merl from keeping 
 his appointment. " I shall be in town by Tuesday," continued tiie 
 writer, " and if Captain Martin has any communication to make to 
 me respecting his affiiirs, let it be addressed to Messrs. Twining and 
 Scape's, solicitors, Eurnival's Inn. I hope that with regard to your 
 own matter, you will make suitable provision for the acceptance due 
 on the ninth of next month. Any further renewal would prove a 
 great inconvenience to yours, 
 
 " Very sincerely and to command, 
 
 "Heeman Meel." 
 
 " Negotiations have ended ere they were opened, and war is pro- 
 claimed at once," said Massingbred, as he read over this brief epistle. 
 "You may come forth, Master Scanlan," added he, opening tlie door 
 of his bedroom, and admitting that gentleman. " Our Hebrew is an 
 overmatch for us. He declines to appear." 
 
 " Why so ? How is that ?" asked Scanlan. 
 
 "There's his note," said the other ; "read, and digest it." 
 
 " This smacks of suspicion," said Scanlan. " He evidently suspects 
 that we have concerted some scheme to entangle him, and he is 
 resolved not to be caught." 
 
 " Precisely ; he'll do nothing without advice. "Well, well, if he 
 but knew liow unprepared we are, how utterly deficient not only in 
 resources, but actually in the commonest information of our subject, 
 he might have ventured here in all safety." 
 
 " Jlas Captain Martin not put you in possession of the whole case, 
 
 then?" 
 
 " AVhy, my good Scanlan, the Captain knows nothing — actually
 
 504 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 nothing, of Lis difficulties. He has, it is true, a perfect conviction 
 that he is out of his depth, but whether he be in five fathom water or 
 fifty lie doesn't know; and, wliat's stranger, he doesn't care!" 
 
 " After all, if it be over his head, I suppose it's pretty much the 
 same thing," said Scanlan, with a bitter laugh. 
 
 " I beg to offer my dissent to that doctrine," said Massingbred, 
 gently. "Where the water is only just out of a man's depth, the 
 shore is usually not very distant. Now, if we were quite certain 
 such were the case here, we might hope to save him. If, on the 
 
 contrary, he has gone down out of all siglit of land " He stopped, 
 
 gazed steadily at Scanlan for a few seconds, and then in a lower tone, 
 not devoid of a touch of anxiety, said, " Eh, do you really know this 
 to be so ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you all I know, Mr. Massingbred," said he, as having 
 turned the key in the door he took his seat at the table. " And I'll 
 tell you, besides, how I came by the knowledge, and I'll leave it to 
 your own judgment to say what his chance is worth. When Merl 
 was stopping at Kilkieran, lie left there a little pocket-book, with 
 memorandums of all his secret transactions. Mighty nice doings 
 they were — and profitable, too — as you'll perceive when you look 
 over it." 
 
 " You have it, then ?" cried Jack, eagerly. 
 
 "Here it is," said he, producing the precious volume, and laying 
 his hand firmly on it. " Here it is now. I got it under a pledge to 
 hand it to himself, which I needn't tell you I never had the slightest 
 intention of performing. It's not every day in the week one has the 
 good luck to get a peep into the enemy's brief, and this is exactly 
 what you'll find here." 
 
 Massingbred stretched out his hand to take the book, but Scanlan 
 quietly replaced it in his pocket, and, with a dry and very peculiar 
 smile, said : 
 
 " Have a little patience, Sir. We must go regularly to work here. 
 You shall see this book — ^you shall examine it — and even retain it — 
 but it must be on conditions." 
 
 " Oh, you may confide in me, Scanlan. Even if Mr. Merl were 
 my friend — which I assure you he is not — I could not venture to 
 betray yow." 
 
 " That's not exactly what I'm thinking of, Mr, Massingbred. I'm 
 certain you'd say nothing to Merl of what you saw here. My mind 
 is easy enough upon that score." 
 
 " Well, then, in what direction do your suspicions point ?"
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' ilAETIN. 505 
 
 " They're not suspicions, Sir," was the dry response. 
 
 " Fears — hesitations — whatever you like to call them." 
 
 " Are we on honour here, Mr. Massingbred ?" said Scanlan, after a 
 pause. 
 
 " For myself, I say decidedly so," was the firm reply. 
 
 " That will do, Sir. I ask only one pledge, and I'm sure you'll 
 not refuse it : if j'ou should think, on reflection, that what I pro- 
 pose to you this evening is neither practicable nor advisable — that, 
 in fact, you could neither concur in it nor aid it — that you'll never, 
 so long as you live, divulge it to any one, man, woman, or child. 
 Have I that promise ?' ' 
 
 " I think I may safely say that." 
 
 " Ay, but do you say it ?" 
 
 "I do; here is my promise." 
 
 " That will do. I don't ask a word more. jSTow, Mr. Massingbred," 
 said he, replacing the book on the table, " I'll tell you in the fewest 
 words I can how the case stands — and brevity is essential, for we 
 have not an hour to lose. Merl is gone to London about this busi- 
 ness, and we'll have to follow him. He'd be very glad to be rid of 
 the affair to-morrow, and he'll not waste many days till he is so. 
 Eead that bit there. Sir," said he, pointing to a few closely- written 
 lines in the note-book. 
 
 "Good Heavens!" cried Jack, "this is downright impossible. 
 This is a vile falsehood, devised for some infernal scheme of roguery. 
 "Who'd believe such a trumpery piece of imposition ? Ah, Scanlan, 
 you're not the wily fellow I took you for. This same precious note- 
 book was dropped as a decoy, as I once knew a certain noble lord to 
 have left his betting-book behind him. An artful device, that can 
 only succeed once, however. And you really believed all this?" 
 
 " I did, and I do believe it," said Scanlan, firmly. 
 
 " If you really say so, we must put the matter to the test. Captain 
 Martin is here — we'll send for him, and ask him the question ; but 
 I must say I don't think your position will be a pleasant one after 
 that reply is given." 
 
 " I must remind you of your promise already, it seems," said 
 Scanlan. " Tou are pledged to say nothing of this, if you cannot 
 persuade yourself to act along with me in it." 
 
 "Very true," said Massingbred, slowly; "but I never pledged 
 myself to credit an impossibility." 
 
 " I ask nothinc; of the kind. I oulv claim that vou should adhere 
 to what you have said already. If this statement be untrue, all my
 
 506 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 speculations about it fall to the ground at once. I am the dupe of a 
 stale trick, and there's an end of it." 
 
 " Ay, so far, all well, Master Scanlan ; but I have no fancy to 
 be associated in the deception. Can't you see that ?" 
 
 " I can, Sir, and I do. But perhaps there may be a readier way of 
 satisfying your doubts than calling for the Captain's evidence. There 
 is a little page in this same volume devoted to one Mr. Massingbred. 
 You surely may have some knowledge about his affairs. Throw 
 your eye over that. Sir, and say what you think of it." 
 
 Massingbred took the book in his hand and perused the place 
 pointed out to him. 
 
 " By Jove ! this is very strange," said he, after a pause. " Here is 
 my betting-book on the St. Hubert all transcribed in full — however 
 the Jew boy got hold of it — and here's mention of a blessed hundred 
 pound note, which, in less than five years, has grown to upwards of a 
 thousand!" 
 
 "And all true? All fact ?" 
 
 " Perfectly true — most lamentably fjict ! Master Scanlan. How 
 precise the scoundrel is in recording this loan as ' after supper at 
 Dubos'.' Ay, and here again is my unlucky wager about Martingale 
 for the ' Chester,' and the handicap with Armytage. Scanlan, I re- 
 cant my rash impression. This is a real work of its great author! 
 Aiit Merl — aut Diaholus.^' 
 
 " I could have sworn it," said Scanlan. 
 
 " To be sure you could, man, and have dolie, ere this time o' day, 
 fifty other things on fainter evidence. But let me tell you it requires 
 strong testimony to make one believe that there shoidd live such a 
 consummate fool in the world as would sell his whole reversionaiy 
 right to a splendid estate of some twelve thousand " 
 
 "Fifteen at the lowest," broke in Scanlan. 
 
 " Worse again. Fifteen thousand a year for twenty-two thousand 
 seven hundred and sixty-four pounds sterling." 
 
 " And he has done it." 
 
 " No, no ; the thing is utterly incredible, man. Any one must see 
 that if he did want to make away with his inheritance, that he could 
 have obtained ten, twenty times that sum amongst the tribe of 
 Merl." 
 
 "No doubt, if he were free to negotiate the transaction. But 
 you'll see, on looking over these pages, in what a network of debt he 
 was involved — how, as early as four years ago, at the Cape, he owed 
 Merl large sums, lost at play, and borrowed at heavy interest. So
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEo' MARTIN. 507 
 
 that, at length, this same twenty-two thousand, assumed as paid for 
 tlie reversion, was in reality but tlie balance of an immense demand 
 for money lost, bills renewed, sums lent, debts discharged, and so on. 
 But to avoid the legal difficulty of an ' immoral obligation,' the sale 
 of the reversion is limited to tbis simple payment of twenty-two 
 thousand " 
 
 " Seven hundred and sixty-four pounds. Sir. Don't let us diminish 
 the price by a fraction," said Massingbred. " Wonderful people ye 
 are, to be sure ; and whether in your talent for savings, or dislike for 
 sausages, alike admirable and praiseworthy ! "What a strange circle 
 do events observe, and how irrevocable is the law of the material, the 
 stem rule of the moral world, decay, decomposition, and regenera- 
 tion following on each other; and as great men's ashes beget grubs, 
 so do illustrious houses generate in their rottenness the race of 
 Herman Merls." 
 
 Scanlan tried to smile at the rhapsodical conceit, but for some 
 private reason of his own he did not relish nor enjoy it. 
 
 "So, then, according to the record," said Massingbred, holding up 
 the book, " there is an end of the ' Martins of Cro' Martin ?' " 
 
 " That's it, Sir, in one word," 
 
 "It is too shocking — too horrible to believe," said Massingbred, 
 with more of sincerity than his manner usually displayed. " Eh, 
 Scanlan — is it not so ?" added he, as waiting in vain for some show 
 of concurrence. 
 
 " I believe, however," said the other, " it's the history of every 
 great family's downfal : small liabilities growing in secrecy to become 
 heavy charges, severe pressure exerted by those out of whose pockets 
 came eventually the loans to meet the difficulties — shrewdness and 
 rapacity on one side, folly and wastefulness on the other." 
 
 " Ay, ay ; but who ever heard of a whole estate disposed of for less 
 than two years of its rental ?" 
 
 "That's exactly the case, Sir," said he, in the same calm tone as 
 before ; " and what makes matters worse, we liave little time to look 
 out for expedients. Magennis will put us on our title at the new 
 trial next Assizes. Merl will take fright at the insecurity of his 
 claim, and dispose of it — Heaven knows to whom — perhaps to that 
 very league now formed to raise litigation against all the old 
 tenures." 
 
 " Stop, stop, Scanlan ! There is quite enough difficulty before us, 
 without conjuring xip new complications," ci'ied Massingbred. " Have 
 you anything to suggest ? "What ought to be done here?"
 
 508 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 Scanlan was silent, and leaning his head on his hand, seemed lost 
 in thought. 
 
 " Come, Scanlan, you've thought over all this ere now. Tell me, 
 man, what do you advise ?" 
 
 Scanlan was silent. 
 
 " Out with it, Scanlan. I know, I feel that you have a resource in 
 store against all these perils ! Out with it, man." 
 
 " Have I any need to remind you of your promise, Mr. Massing- 
 bred?" asked the other, stealthily. 
 
 " Not the slightest, Scanlan. I never forget a pledge." 
 
 " Very well. Sir ; that's enough," said Scanlan, speaking rapidly, 
 and like one anxious to overcome his confusion by an effort. " We 
 have just one thing to do. We must buy out Merl. Of course as 
 reasonably as we can, but buy him out we must. What between his 
 own short experiences of Ireland, and the exposure that any litigation 
 is sure to bring with it, he's not likely to be hard to deal with, par- 
 ticularly when we are in possession, as I suppose we may be, through 
 your intimacy with the Captain, of all the secret history of these 
 transactions. I take it for granted that he'll be as glad of a settle- 
 ment that keeps all ' snug,' as ourselves. Less than the twenty-two 
 thousand we can't expect he'll take." 
 
 "And how are we to raise that sum without Mr. Martin's con- 
 currence ?" 
 
 "I wish that was the only difficulty," said Scanlan. 
 
 " Wliat do you mean ?" 
 
 " Just this : that in his present state no act of his would stand. 
 Sure his mind is gone. There isn't a servant about him couldn't 
 swear to his fancies and imaginations. No, Sir, the whole thing 
 must be done amongst ourselves. I have eight thousand some hun- 
 dred pounds of my own available at a moment ; Old Nelligan would 
 readily— for an assignment of the Brewery and the Market-square — 
 advance us ten thousand more ; — the money, in short, could be had — 
 
 more if we wanted it — the question is " 
 
 " As to the dealing with Merl ?" broke in Jack. 
 " No, Sir, not that, though of course it is a most important con- 
 sideration." 
 
 " Well, what then ?" 
 
 "As to the dealing with Maurice Scanlan, Sir," said he, making a 
 great effort. " There's the whole question in one word." 
 
 " I don't see that there can be any grave obstacle against that. You 
 know the property."
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 509 
 
 " Every acre of it." 
 
 " Tou know liow you'd like your advance to be secured to you — on 
 what part of the estate. The conditions, I am certain, might be fairly 
 left in your own hands ; I feel assured you'd not ask nor expect any- 
 thing beyond what was equitable and just." 
 
 " Mr. Massingbred, we might talk this way a twelvemonth, and 
 never be a bit nearer our object tlian when we began," said Scanlau, 
 resolutely. " I want two things, and I won't take less than the two, 
 together. One is to be secured in the agency of the estate, under 
 nobody's control whatever but the Martins themselves. No Mister 
 Eepton to say, ' Do this, sign that, seal the other.' I'll have nobody 
 over me but him that owns the property." 
 
 " Well, and the other condition ?" 
 
 " The other — the other," said Scaulan, growing very red — " the 
 other, I suppose, will be made the great dilllculty — at least on my 
 Lady's side. She'll be bristling up about her uncle the Marquis, and 
 her half-cousin the Duke, and she'll be throwing in my teeth who I 
 am, and what I was, and all the rest of it, forgetting all the while 
 where they'll be if they reject my terms, and how much the most 
 noble Viceroy will do for her when she hasn't a roof over her head, 
 and how many letters his Grace will write when slie hasn't a place 
 to address them to — not to say that the way they'i'o treating the girl 
 at this very moment shows how much they think of her as one of them- 
 selves, living with old Catty Broon, and cantering over the country 
 without as much as a boy after her. Sure if they Averen't Pride itself, 
 it's glad they might be that a — a — a respectable man, that is sure to 
 be devoted to their own interests for ever, an4 one tliat knows the 
 estate well, and, moreover than that, that doesn't want to be going 
 over to Loudon — no, nor even to Dublin — that doesn't care a brass 
 farthing for the Castle and the Lodge in the Park — that, in short, 
 Mr. Massingbred, asks nothing for anybody, but is willing to trust 
 
 to his industrj^ and wliat he Juiows of life There it is, now — 
 
 there's my whole case," said he, stammering, and growing more and 
 more embarrassed. " I haven't a word to add to it except this : that 
 if they'd rather be ruined entirely, left without stick or stone, roof 
 or rafter in the world, than take my ofl'er, they've nothing to 
 blame but themselves and their own infernal pride !" And with 
 this peroration, to deliver which cost him an effort like a small 
 apoplexy, Maurice Scaulan sat down at the table, and crossed his 
 arms on his breast like one prepared to await his verdict with a stout 
 heart.
 
 510 THE MAETINS OF CEO MARTIN. 
 
 At last, and ■n-itli the start of one -n-ho suddenly bethought him 
 of a precaution that ought not to be neglected, he said, 
 
 "Of course, this is so far all between ourselves, for if I was to go 
 up straight to my Lad}', and say, ' I want to marry your niece,' I 
 think I know what tlie answer would be." 
 
 Although Massiiigbred had ibllowed this rambling and incoherent 
 effort at explanation with considerable attention, it was only by the 
 very concluding words that he was quite certain of having compre- 
 hended its meaning. If we acknowledge that he felt almost astounded 
 by tlie pretension, it is but fair to add that nothing in his manner or 
 air betokened this feeling. Nay, he even by a slight gesture of the 
 head invited the other to continue, and when the very abrupt con- 
 clusion did ensue, he sat patiently as it were revolving the question 
 in his own mind. 
 
 Had Scanlan been waiting for the few words which from a jury-box 
 determine a man's fate for ever, he could not have suftered more 
 acute anxiety than he felt while contemplating the other's calm and 
 unmoved countenance. A bold, open rejection of his plan, a defiant 
 repudiation of his presumption would not probably have pained 
 him more, if as much as the impassive quietness of Jack's de- 
 meanour. 
 
 " If you think that this is a piece of impudence on my part, Mr. 
 Massingbred — if it's your opinion that in aspiring to be connected 
 with the Martins I'm forgetting my place and my station, just say so 
 at once. Tell it to me frankly, and I'll know how to bear it," said he, 
 at last, when all further endurance had become impossible. 
 
 "Nothing of the j kind, my dear Scanlan," said Jack, smiling 
 blandly. " Whatever snobbery once used to prevail on these sub- 
 jects, we have come to live in a more generous age. The man of 
 character, the man who unites an untarnished reputation to very con- 
 siderable abilities, with talent to win any station, and virtues to 
 adorn it, such a man wants no blazonry to illustrate his name, and it 
 is mainly by such accessions that our English aristocracy, refreshed 
 and invigorated as it is, preserves its great and acknowledged su- 
 periority." 
 
 It would have required a more acute critic than Maurice 
 Scanlan to have detected the spirit in which this rhapsody was 
 uttered. The apparent earnestness of the manner did not exactly 
 consort with a certain pomposity of enunciation and an over-exact- 
 ness in the tone of the declamation. On the Avhole, Maurice did not 
 like it. It smacked to his ears very like what he had often listened to
 
 XHE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN, 511 
 
 in the Four Courts at the close of a " Junior's" address; aud there 
 was a Nisi Prius jingle in it that sounded marveUouslj unlike con- 
 viction, 
 
 " If, then," resumed Massingbred, "they who by the accidents of 
 fortune, or the meritorious services of their forefathers, represent 
 rather in their elevation the gratitude of their country than " 
 
 " I'm sorry to interrupt you, Sir — indeed, I'm ashamed of myself 
 for doing it— for your remarks are beautiful, downright eloquent ; 
 but the truth is, this is a case touches me too closely to make me 
 care for a grand speech about it. I'd rather have just a few words — 
 to the evidence, as one might say — or a simple answer to a plain 
 question — Can this thing be done ?" 
 
 " There's where you beat us, Scanlan. There's where we cannot 
 approach you. You are practical. You reduce a matter at once to 
 the simple dimension of efficacy first, then, possibility, and with these 
 two conditions before you, you reject the fifty extraneous considera- 
 tions, outlying contingencies, that distract and embarrass such fellows 
 
 as one" 
 
 " I have no pretension to abilities like yours, Mr. Massingbred," 
 said Scanlan, with unassumed modesty. 
 
 " Ah, Scanlan, yours are the true gifts, take my word for it ! — the 
 recognised currency by which a man obtains what he seeks for ; and 
 there never was an era in which such qualities bore a higlier value. 
 Our statesmen — our diplomatists — our essay writers — nay, our very 
 poets, addressing themselves as they do to the correction of social 
 wrongs and class inequalities — they are all ' practical !' That is the 
 type of our time, and future historians will talk of this as the ' Age 
 of Tact !' " 
 
 If one were to judge from Maurice Scanlan's face during the de- 
 livery of this peroration, it might be possibly inferred that he scarcely 
 accepted the speech as an illustration in point, since anything less 
 practical he had never listened to. 
 
 " When I think," resumed he, " what a different effect I should 
 have produced in the ' House' had I possessed this requisite ! You, 
 possibly, may be umder the impression that I achieved a great 
 success ?" 
 
 " "Well, I did hoar as much," said Scanlan, half doggedly. 
 
 " Perhaps it was so. A first speech, you are aware, is always 
 listened to indulgently ; not so a second, especially if a man rises 
 soon after his first effort. They begin to suspect they have got a 
 talkative fellow, eager and ready to speak on every question ; they 
 dread that, and even if he be clever they'll vote him a Bore !"
 
 512 THE ilAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 "Faith! I don't wonder at it!" said Maurice, with a hearty sin- 
 cerity in the tone. 
 
 " Yet, after all, Scanlan, let us be just ! How, in Heaven's name, 
 are men to become debaters, except by this same training ? Tou 
 require men not alone to be strong upon the mass of questions that 
 come up in debate, but you expect them to be prompt with their 
 explanations, always prepared with their replies. Not rausackinf 
 History, or searching through ' Hansard,' you want a man who, at 
 the spur of the moment, can rise to defend, to explain, to simplify, 
 or mayhap to assail, to denouuce, to annihilate. Isn't that true ?" 
 
 "I don't want any such thing, Sir!" said Scanlan, with a sulky 
 determination that there was no misunderstanding. 
 
 " Tou don't ! Well, what do you ask for ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you. Sir, and in very few words, too, what I do not ask 
 for ! I don't ask to be humbugged, listening to this, that, and the 
 other, that I have nothing to say to ; to hear how you failed, or why 
 you succeeded; what you did, or what you couldn't do. I put a 
 plain case to you, and I wanted as plain an answer ; and as to your 
 flattering me about being practical, or whatever you call it, it's a 
 clean waste of time, neither less nor more !" 
 
 "The agency and the niece!" said Massingbred, with a calm 
 solemnity that tliis speech had never disconcerted. 
 
 " Them's the conditions !" said Scanlan, reddening over face and 
 forehead. 
 
 "You're a plucky fellow, Scanlan, and by Jove I like you for it!" 
 said Massingbred. And for once there was a hearty sincerity in the 
 way he spoke. " If a man is to have a fall, let it be at least over a 
 ' rasper,' not be thrown over a furrow in a ploughed field ! You fly 
 at high game, but I'm far from saying you'll not succeed." And 
 with a jocular laugh he turned away and left him.
 
 THE MAETINS^P CEO' MAETIX. 513 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 A CONSULTATION. 
 
 Jack Massingbeed was one of those who, in questions of difficulty, 
 resort to the pen in preference to personal interference. It was a 
 fancy of his that he wrote better than he talked. Very probably he 
 thought so because the contrary was the fact. On the present occa- 
 sion another motive had also its influence. It was Lady Dorothea 
 that he addressed, and he had no especial desire to commit himself to 
 a direct interview. 
 
 His object was to convey Mr. Scanlan's propositions — to place 
 them fully and intelligibly before her Ladyship without a syllable of 
 comment on his own part, or one word which could be construed into 
 advocacy or reprobation of them. In truth, had he been called 
 upon for an opinion, it would have sorely puzzled him what to 
 say. To rescue a large estate from ruin was, to be sure, a very con- 
 siderable service, but to accept Maurice Scanlan as a near member of 
 one's family seemed a very hea\'y price even for that. Still, if the 
 young lady liked him, singular as the choice might appear, other 
 objections need not be insurmountable. Tiie Martins were verv 
 unlikely ever to make Ireland their residence again, they woidd see 
 little or nothing of this same Scanlan connexion, "and, after all," 
 thought Jack, " if we can only keep the disagreeables of this life 
 away from daily intercourse, only knowing them through the post- 
 office and at rare intervals, the compact is not a bad one." 
 
 Massingbred would have liked mucli to consult Miss Henderson 
 iipon the question itself, and also upon his manner of treating it ; but 
 to touch upon the point of a marriage of inequality with her, would 
 have been dangerous ground. It was scarcely possible he could in- 
 troduce the topic without dropping a word, or letting fall a remark 
 she could not seize hold of. It was the theme, of all others, in which 
 her sensitiveness was extreme ; nor could he exactly say whether she 
 sneered at a mesalliance, or at the insolent tone of society regard- 
 ng it. ^ 
 
 Again he bethought him of the ungraciousness of the task lie had 
 assumed, if, as was most probable. Lady Dorothea should feel iNIr. 
 Scanlan's pretensions an actual outrage. " She'll never forgive iiic for 
 stating them, that's certain," said he ; " but will she do so if 1 decKu© 
 
 2 L
 
 514 THE MAETINS OrlbEO' MAETIN. 
 
 to declare them, or, worse still, leave them to the vulgar interpre- 
 tation Scanlan himself is sure to impart to them ?" While he thus 
 hesitated and debated with himself, now, altering a phrase here, now, 
 changing a word there, Captain Martin entered the room, and threw 
 himself into a chair with a more than ordinary amount of weariness 
 and exhaustion, 
 
 " The Governor's worse to-day, Massingbred," said be,, with a sigh. 
 
 " No serious change, I hope ?" said Jack. 
 
 "I suspect there is, though," replied the other. "They sent for 
 me from Lescour's last night, where I was winning smartly. Just 
 like my luck always, to be called away when I was ' in vein,' and when 
 I got here, I found Schubart, and a French fellow whom I don't know, 
 had just bled him. It must have been toucb and go, for when I saw 
 him he was very ill — very ill indeed — and they call him better." 
 
 " It was a distinct attack, then — a seizure of some sort ?" asked 
 Massingbred. 
 
 " Yes, I think they said so," said he, lighting his cigar. 
 
 " But he has rallied, hasn't he ?" 
 
 " Well, I don't fancy he has. He lifts his eyes at times, and seems 
 to look about for some one, and moves his lips a little, but you could 
 scarcely say that he was conscious, though my mother insists he is." 
 
 " What does Schubart think ?" 
 
 " Who minds these fellows," said he, impatiently. " They're only 
 sjDeculating on what will be said of themselves, and so they go on : 
 ' If this does not occur, and the other does not happen, we shall see 
 him better this evening.' " 
 
 "This is aU very bad," said Massingbred, gloomily. 
 
 "It's a deuced deal worse than you know of, old fellow," said 
 Martin, bitterly. 
 
 " Perhaps not worse than I suspect," said Massingbred. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" 
 
 Massingbred did not reply, but sat deep in thought for some time. 
 " Come, Martin," said he, at last, "let us be frank ; in a few hours 
 it may be, perhaps, too late for frankness. Is this true?" And he 
 handed to him Merl's pocket-book, open at a particular page. 
 
 Martin took it, and as his eyes traced the lines a sickly paleness 
 covered his features, and in a voice scarcely stronger than an infant's 
 he said, " It is so." 
 
 " The whole reversionary right ?" 
 
 "Every acre — every stick and stone of it — except," added he, with 
 a sickly attempt at a smile, " a beggaidy tract, near Kiltimmon, Mary 
 has a charge upon."
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 515 
 
 " Eead that, now," said Jack, handing him his recently-written 
 letter. " I was about to send it without showing it to you, but it is 
 as well you saw it." 
 
 While Martin was reading, Massingbred never took his eyes from 
 him. He watched with all his own practised keenness the varying 
 emotions the letter cost, but he saw that, as he finished, selfishness 
 had triumphed, and that the prospect of safety had blunted every 
 sentiment as to the price. 
 
 " Well," said Jack, " what say you to tliat ?" 
 
 " I say it's a right good offer, and on no account to be refused. 
 There is some hitch or other — I can't say what, but it exists, I know 
 — which ties us up against selling. Old Eepton and the Governor, 
 and I think my mother too, are in the secret, but I never was, so 
 that Scanlan's proposal is exactly what meets the difficulty." 
 " But do you like his conditions ?" asked Jack. 
 " I can't say I do. But what's that to the purpose ? One must 
 play the hand that is dealt to them — there's no choice ! I know that, 
 as agent over the property, he'll make a deuced good thing of it for 
 himself. It will not be five nor ten per cent, will satisfy Master 
 Maurice." 
 
 " Yes ; but there is another condition also," said Jack, quietly. 
 " About Mary ? Well, of course it's not the kind of thing one 
 likes. The fellow is the lowest of the low ; but even that's better, in 
 some respects, than a species of half gentility, for he actually hasn't 
 one in the world belonging to him. No one ever heard of his father 
 or mother, and he's not the fellow to go in search of them." 
 
 " I confess that is a consideration," said Massingbred, with a tone 
 that might mean equally raillery or the reverse ; " so that you see no 
 great objection on that score ?" 
 
 " I won't say I'd choose the connexion ; but, ' with a bad book, it's 
 at least a hedge' — eh. Massy, isn't it?" 
 " Perhaps so," said the other, drily. 
 
 " It doesn't strike me," said Martin, as he glanced his eye again 
 over the letter, " that you have advocated Scanlan's plan. Tou have 
 left it without, apparently, one word of comment. Does that mean 
 that you don't approve of it?" 
 
 "I never promised him I would advocate it," said Jack. 
 " I have no doubt, Massingbred, you tliink me a deuced selfish 
 fellow for treating the question in this fasliion ; but just reflect a 
 little, and see how innocently, as I may say, I was led into all these 
 embarrassments. I never suspected how deep I was getting. jNIcrl 
 used to laugh at me ii I asked him how wo stood — he always induced 
 
 2l2
 
 516 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 me to regard our dealings as trifles, to be arranged to-da}^ to-morrow, 
 or ten years hence." 
 
 "I am not unversed in that sort of thing, unluckily," said Massing- 
 bred, interrupting him. " There is another consideration, however, in 
 the present case, to which I do not think you have given sufficient 
 weight." 
 
 " As to Mary, my dear fellow, the matter is simple enough. Our 
 consent is a mere form. If she liked Scanlan, she'd marry him 
 against all the Martins that ever were born ; and if she didn't, she'd 
 not swerve an inch if the whole family were to go to the stake for it. 
 She's not one for half measures, I promise you ; and then, remember, 
 that though she is one ' of us,' and well born, she has never mingled 
 with the society of her equals ; she has always lived that kind of life 
 you saw yourself— taking a cast with the hounds, one day, nursing some 
 old hag with the rheumatism, the next. I've seen her hearing a class 
 in the village school, and half an hour after, breaking in a young horse 
 to harness. And what between her habits and her tastes, she is really 
 not fit for what you and I would call the world." As Massingbred 
 made no reply, Martin ascribed his silence to a part conviction, and 
 went on : " Mind, I'm not going to say that she is not a deuced deal 
 too good for Maurice Scanlan, who is as vulgar a hound as Avalks ou 
 two legs ; but, as I said before, Massy, we hav'n't much choice." 
 
 " Will Lady Dorothea be likely to view the matter in this light ?" 
 asked Jack, calmly. 
 
 " That is a mere matter of chance. She's equally likely to embrace 
 the proposal with ardour, or tell a footman to kick Scanlan out of the 
 house for his impertinence ; and I own the latter is the more pro- 
 bable of the two— not, mark you, from any exaggerated regard for 
 Mary, but out of consideration to the insult offered to herself" 
 
 " "Will she not weigh well all the perils that menace the estate ?" 
 
 " She'll take a short method with them— she'll not believe them." 
 
 " Egad ! I must say the whole negotiation is in a very promising 
 state !" exclaimed Jack, as he arose and walked the room. " There 
 is only one amongst us has much head for a case of difficulty." 
 
 "Tou mean Kate Henderson?" broke in Martin. 
 
 "Tes." 
 
 ""Well, we've lost 7?cr just when we most needed her." 
 
 " Lost her ! How — what do you mean ?" 
 
 " "Why, that she is gone— gone home. She started this morning 
 before daybreak. She had a tiif with my mother last night. I will 
 say the girl was shamefully treated— shamefully ! My Lady com- 
 pletely forgot herself. She was in one of those blessed paroxysms
 
 THE MAETINS OF CBo' MARTIN. 517 
 
 in which, had she been born a Pasha, heads would have been rolling 
 about like shot in a dockyard, and she consequently said all manner 
 of atrocities ; and instead of giving her time to make the ' amende,' 
 Kate beat a retreat at once, and by this time she is some twenty 
 miles on her journey." 
 
 Massingbred walked to the window to hide the emotion these 
 tidings produced, for, with all his self-command, the suddenness of the 
 intelligence had unmanned him, and a cold and sickly feeling came 
 over him. There was far more of outraged and insulted pride than 
 love in the emotions which then moved him. The bitter thought of 
 the moment was, how indiflerent slie felt about him — liow little he 
 weighed in any resolve she determined to follow. She had gone 
 without a word of farewell — perliaps without a thought of him. " Be 
 it so," said he to himself; "there has been more than enough of 
 humiliation to me in our intercourse. It is time to end it ! The 
 whole was a dream, from which the awaking was sui'e to be painful. 
 Better meet it at once, and have done witli it." There was that much 
 of passion in this resolve that proved how far more it came from 
 wounded pride than calm conviction; and so deeply was his mind 
 engrossed with this feeling, that Martin had twice spoken to him ere 
 he noticed his question. 
 
 " Do you mean, then, to show that letter to my mother ?" 
 " Ay ; I have written it with that object. Scanlan aslced me to be 
 his interpreter, and I have kept my pledge. — And did she go alone — 
 unaccompanied?" 
 
 " I fancy so ; but, in truth, I never asked. The doctors were here, 
 and all that fuss and confusion going on, so tliat 1 had really little head ' 
 for anything. After all, I suspect she's a girl might be able to take 
 care of herself — shouldn't you say so ?" 
 
 Massingbred was silent for a while, and then said : " You'll have 
 to be on the alert about this business of yours, IMartin, and if 
 I can be of service to you, command me. I mean to start for 
 London immediately." 
 
 " I'll see my mother at once, then," said he, taking up Massing- 
 bred's letter. 
 
 " Sliall 1 meet you in about an hour, in tlie Lichtenthal avenue ?" 
 "Agreed," said lie ; and they parted. 
 
 "We have no need, nor have we any right, to follow Massingbred 
 as he strolled out to walk alone in an alley of the wood. Irresolu- 
 tion is an intense suffering to men of action ; and such Avas the pre- 
 sent condition of his mind. Week after week, month after mouth, 
 had he lingered on in companionship with the INtartins, tdl such had
 
 518 THE MAHTINS OF CRO' MARTIK. 
 
 become the intimacy between tliem, that they scrupled not to discuss 
 before him the most confidential circumstances, and ask his counsel 
 on the most private concerns. He fancied that he was " of them ;" 
 he grew to think that he was, somehow, part and parcel of the family, 
 little suspecting, tlie while, that Kate Henderson was the link that 
 bound him to them, and that, without her presence, they resolved 
 themselves into three individuals, for whom he felt wonderfully little 
 of interest or affection. " She is gone, and what have I to stay for ?" 
 was the question he put to himself; aAd for answer he coidd only 
 repeat it. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 A COMPROMISE. 
 
 There are many who think that our law of primogeniture is a sad 
 hardener of the heart — estranging the father from the son, widening 
 petty misunderstandings to the breadth of grievances, engendering 
 suspicions where there should bo trustfulness, and opening two roads 
 in life to those who should rightfully have trod one path together. 
 If one half of this be the price we pay for our " Great Houses," the 
 bargain is a bad one ! But even taking a wide margin for exaggera- 
 tion — allowing much for the prejudices of those who assail this insti- 
 tution — there is that which revolts against one's better nature, in» 
 the ever-present question of money, between the father and his 
 heir. The very fact that separate rights suggest separate interests, 
 is a source of discord ; while the inevitable law of succession is a 
 stern defiance to that sense of protection on one side, and dependence 
 on the other, that should mark their relations to each other. 
 
 Captain Martin was not devoid of affection for his family. He had, 
 it is true, been very little at home, but he did not dislike it, beyond 
 the " boredom" of a rather monotonous kind of life. He was natu- 
 rally of a plastic temperament, however, and he lived amongst a set 
 whose good pleasure it is to criticise all who belong to them with 
 the very frankest of candour. One told how his " Governor," though 
 rolling in wealth, kept him on a most beggarly allowance, illustrating, 
 with many an amusing story, traits of avarice that set the table in a roar. 
 Another exhibited his as such a reckless spendthrift, that the family
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MABTIK. 519 
 
 estate would never cover the debts. There was a species of rivalry 
 on seeing who should lay most open to public view details and inci- 
 dents purely belonging to a family. It was even a principle of this 
 new school to discuss, and sufter others to discuss before them, the 
 class and condition of life of their parents in a tone of mockery and 
 derision, whenever the occasion might admit it ; and the son of the 
 manufacturer or the trader listened to allusions to his birth and 
 parentage, and even jested upon them himself, in a spirit more 
 flattering to his philosophy than to his pride. 
 
 Martin had lived amidst ail this for years. He had been often 
 complimented upon the "jolly good thing he was to have one of 
 these days ;" he had been bantered out of many a wise and prudent 
 economy, by being reminded of that " deuced fine property nobody 
 could keep him out of." " What can it signify to ijou, old fellow, a 
 few hundreds more or less. Tou must have fifteen thousand a year 
 yet. The Governor can't live for ever, I take it." Others, too, 
 as self-invited guests, speculated on all the pleasures of a visit to 
 Cro' Martin ; and if at first the young man heard such projects with 
 shame and repuguance, he learned at last to listen to them with in- 
 difference, perhaps with something less ! 
 
 Was it some self-accusing on this score that now overwhelmed 
 him as he sat alone in his room, trying to think, endeavouring to 
 arouse himself to action, but so overcome that he sat there only half 
 conscious, and but diml}'' discerning the course of events about him ? 
 At such moments external objects mingle their influences with our 
 thoughts, and the sound of voices, the tread of footsteps, the mere 
 shutting of a door, seem to blend themselves with our reveries, and 
 give somewhat of reality to our dreamy fancies. A large clock upon 
 the mantelpiece had thus fixed his attention, and lie watched the 
 minute hand as though its course was meting out the last moments 
 of existence. "Ere it reach that hour," thought he, fixing his 
 gaze upon the dial, " what a change may have come over all my 
 fortunes !" Tears — long years — seemed to pass over as he waited 
 thus ; scenes of childhood, of infancy itself, mingled with the gay dis- 
 sipations of his after-life ; school days and nights at mess, wild orgies 
 of the play-table and sad wakings on the morrow, all moved through 
 his distracted braiu, till at length it was only by an eflbrt that ho 
 could shake off these flitting fimcies and remember where he was. 
 
 He at once bethought him that there was much to be done. He 
 had given INIassingbred's letter to his mother, entreating a prompt 
 answer, but two hours had now elapsed and she had not sent her 
 reply. There was a struggle between his better nature and his
 
 620 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAllTIN. 
 
 selfishness whether to seek her. The thought of that sick room, 
 dark and silent, appalled him. " Is it at such a time I dare ask her 
 to address her mind to this ? and yet hours are now stealing over 
 which may decide my whole fate in life." While he thus liesitated, 
 Lady Dorothea entered the room. Nights of anxiety and watching, 
 the workings of a spirit that fought inch by inch with fortune, were 
 deeply marked upon her features. Weariness and fatigue had not 
 brought depression on her, but rather imparted a feverish lustre to 
 her eyes, and an expression of haughty energy to her face. 
 
 " Am I to take this for true," said she, as, seating herself in front 
 of him, she held out Massingbred's letter — " I mean, of course, what 
 relates to yourself?" 
 
 He nodded sorrowfully, but did not speak. 
 
 "All literally the fact ?" said she, speaking slowly,' and dwelling on 
 every word. " Ton have actually sold the reversion of the estate ?" 
 
 " And am beggared !" said he, sternly. 
 
 Lady Dorothea tried to speak. She coughed, cleared her throat, 
 made another effort, but without succeeding, and then, in a slightly 
 broken voice, said, " Fetch me a glass of water. No, sit down ; I 
 don't want it." The blood again mounted to her pale cheeks, and 
 she was herself again. 
 
 " These are hard terms of Scanlan's," said she, in a dry, stern tone. 
 " He has waited, too, till we have little choice remaining. Tour father 
 is worse." 
 
 " Worse than when I saw him this morning?" 
 
 " Weaker, and less able to bear treatment. He is irritable, too, 
 at that girl's absence. He asks for her constantly, and confuses her 
 in his mind with Mary." 
 
 " And what does Schubart think ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you what he sai/s,'' replied she, with a marked emphasis 
 on the last word. " He says the case is hopeless ; he has seen such 
 
 linger for weeks, but even a day — a day " She tried to go on, but 
 
 her voice fiiltered, her lip trembled, and she was silent. 
 
 " I had begun to believe it so," muttered Martin, gloomily. " He 
 scarcely recognised me yesterday." 
 
 " He is perfectly collected and sensible now," said Lady Dorothea, 
 in her former calm tone. " He spoke of business matters clearly and 
 well, and wished to see Scanlan." 
 
 " AVhich I trust you did not permit ?" asked Martin, hurriedly. 
 
 " I told him he should see him this evening, but there is no neces- 
 sity for it. Scanlan may have left this before evening."
 
 THE MAETINS Or CEO' MAETIN, '6^ 
 
 " You suspect that Scanlan would say something — would mention 
 to him something of this affair ?" '''"' '' " ' 
 
 " Discretion is not the quality of the low-born and the vulgar," 
 said she, haughtily ; " self-importance alone would render him unsafe. 
 Besides" — and this she said rapidly — "there is nothing to detain the 
 man here, when he knows that we accept his conditions." 
 
 " And are we to accept them ?" said Martio, anxiously. 
 
 " Dare we refuse them ? AVhat is the alternative ? I suppose what 
 you have done with your Jew friend has been executed legally — 
 formally ?" 
 
 " Trust liim for that ; he has left no flaw there !" said Martin, 
 bitterly. 
 
 "I was certain of it," said she, with a scarcely perceptible sneer. 
 " Everything, therefore, has been effected according to law ?" 
 
 "Tes, I believe so," replied he, doggedly. 
 
 " Then really there is nothing left to us but Scanlan. He objects 
 to Eepton ; so do I. I always deemed him obtrusive and familiar. 
 In the management of an Irish estate such qualities may be reckoned 
 essential. I know what we should think of them in England, and I 
 know where we should place their possessor." 
 
 " I believe the main question that presses now is, are we to have 
 an estate at all?" said the Captain, bitterly. 
 
 "Tes, Sir, you have really brought it to that," rejoined slie, with 
 equal asperity. 
 
 "Do you consent to his having the agency ?" asked Martin, with, 
 an immense effort to suppress passion. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you agree, also, to liis proposal for Mary ?" 
 
 " It is matter of complete indifference to me who Miss Martin 
 marries, if she only continue to reside where she does at present. I'm 
 certain she'd not consult me on the subject ; I'm sure I'd never control 
 her. It is amesaUiance to be sure, but it would be equally so, if she, 
 with her rustic habits and uneducated mind, were to marry what 
 would be called her equal. In the present case, she'll be a little better 
 than her station ; in the other, she'd be vastly beneath it !" 
 
 " Poor Molly !" said he, half aloud ; and, for the first time, there 
 was a touch of his father's tone and manner in the words. 
 
 Lady Dorothea looked at him, and with a slight shrug of the 
 shoulders seemed to sneer at his low-priced compassion. 
 
 " Scoff away !" said he, sternly ; " but if I thought that any con- 
 sent we gave to this scheme could take the shape of a coercion, I'd 
 send the estate to the "
 
 522 THE MAUTIKS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 " Tou have, Sir — you have done all that already," broke in Lady 
 Dorothea. " When tlie troubled breathing that we hear from yonder 
 room ceases, there is no longer a Martin of Cro' Martin !" 
 
 " Then what are we losing time for?" cried he, eagerly. "Are 
 moments so precious to be spent in attack and recrimination ? 
 There's Scanlan sitting on a bench before the door. Call him up — 
 tell him you accept his terms — let him start for London, post haste. 
 "With every speed he can master he'll not be a minute too soon. Shall 
 I call him ? — shall I beckon to him ?" 
 
 " Send a servant for him," said Lady Dorothea, calmly, while she 
 folded up the letter, and laid it on the table at her side. 
 
 Martin rang the bell and gave the order, and then, assuming an 
 air of composure he was very far from feeling, sat silently awaiting 
 Scanlan's entrance. That gentleman did not long detain them. He 
 had been sitting, watch in hand, for above an hour, looking occa- 
 sionally up at the windows, and wondering why he had not been 
 summoned. It was, then, with an almost abrupt haste that he at 
 last presented himself. 
 
 " Read over that letter, Sir," said Lady Dorothea, " and please to 
 inform me if it rightly conveys your propositions." 
 
 Scanlan perused Massingbred's letter carefully, and, folding it up, 
 returned it. " Tcs, my Lady," said he, " I think it embraces the 
 chief points. Of course there is nothing specified as to the mode of 
 carrying them out — I mean, as to the security I should naturally 
 look for. I believe your Ladyship does not comprehend me ?" 
 
 " Not in the least. Sir." 
 
 " AVell, if I must speak plainer, I want to be sure that your 
 concurrence is no mere barren concession, my Lady; that, in admit- 
 ting my pretensions, your Ladyship favours them. This is, of 
 course," said he, in a tone of deference, "if your Ladyship conde- 
 scends to accept the terms at all ; for, as yet, you have not said so." 
 
 " If I had not been so minded, Sir, this interview would not have 
 taken place." 
 
 " "Well, indeed, I thought as much myself," said he ; " and so, I at 
 once entered upon what one might call the working details of the 
 measure." 
 
 "How long will it take you to reach London, Sir?" asked she, 
 coldly. 
 
 " Four days, my Lady, travelling night and day." 
 
 " How soon after your arrival there can you make such arrange- 
 ments as will put this affair out of all danger, using every endeavour 
 in your power?"
 
 THE MAETIKS OF CEO' MARTIN. 523 
 
 " I Lope I could answer for that within a week — maybe, less." 
 
 " You'll have to efiect it in half that time, Sir," said she, solemnly. 
 
 " Well, I don't despair of that same, if I have only your Ladyship's 
 promise to all that is set down there. I'll neither eat nor sleep till 
 the matter is in good train." 
 
 " I repeat, Sir, that if this settlement be not accomplished in less 
 than a week from the present moment, it may prove utterly 
 valueless." 
 
 " I can only say I'll do my best, my Lady. I'd be on the road 
 this minute, if your Ladyship would dismiss me." 
 
 " Very well. Sir — you are free. I pledge myself to the full con- 
 ditions of this letter. Captain Martin binds himself equally to 
 observe them." 
 
 " I'd like it in writing under your Ladyship's hand," said Scanlan, 
 in a half-whisper, as though afraid to speak such doubts aloud. " It 
 is not that I have the least suspicion or misgiving in life about your 
 Ladyship's word — I'd take it for a million of money — but when I 
 come to make my proposals in person to Miss Mary " 
 
 " There, Sir, that will do !" said she, with a disdainful look, as if 
 to repress an explanation so disagreeable. " Tou need not enter 
 further upon the question. If you address me by letter, I will 
 reply to it." 
 
 " There it is, my Lady," said he, producing a sealed epistle, and 
 placing it on the table before her. " I had it ready, just not to be 
 losing time. My London address is inside ; and if you'll write to me 
 by to-morrow's post — or the day after," added he, remarking a 
 movement of impatience in her face 
 
 " Tou shall have your bond, Sir — you shall have your bond," 
 broke she in, haughtily. 
 
 " That ought to be enough, I think," said the Captain, with a 
 degree of irritation that bespoke a long internal conflict. 
 
 " I want nothing beyond what I shall earo, Captain Martin," said 
 Scanlan, as a flash of angry meaning covered his features. 
 
 " And we have agreed to the terms, Mr. Scanlan," said her Lady- 
 ship, with a great eflx)rt to conciliate. " It only remains for us to 
 say, a good journey, aud every success attend you." 
 
 " Thank you, my Lady ; I'm your most obedient. Captain, I wish 
 you good-by, and hope soon to send you happy tidings. I trust, if 
 Mr. Martin asks after me, that you'll give him my respectful duty ; 
 and if '.' 
 
 " We'll forget nothing, Sir," said Lady Dorothea, rising ; and 
 Scanlan, after a moment's hesitation as to whether he should venture-
 
 524 THE MAETINS Or CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 to offer his band — a measui-e for which, happily, he could not muster 
 the courage — bowed himself out of the room, and closed the door. 
 
 " Not a very cordial leave-taking for one tliat's to be her nephew," 
 muttered he, with a bitter laugh, as he descended the stairs. " And, 
 indeed, my first cousin, the Captain, isn't the model of family affec- 
 tion. Never mind, Maurice, your day is coming !" And with this 
 assuring reflection he issued forth to give orders for his journey. 
 
 A weary sigh — the outpouring of an oppressed and jaded spii'it — 
 broke from Lady Dorothea as the door closed after him. " In- 
 sufferable creature!" muttered she to herself; and then, turning to 
 the Captain, said aloud, " Is that man capable of playing us false ? — 
 or, rather, has he the power of doing so ?" 
 
 " It is just what I have been turning over in my own mind," re- 
 plied he. " I don't quite trust him ; and, in fact, I'd follow him over 
 to London, if I were free at this moment." 
 
 " Perhaps you ought to do so ; it might be the wisest course," said 
 she, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Do you think I could leave this with safety?" asked he. But 
 she did not seem to have heard the question. He repeated it, and 
 she was still silent. " If the doctors could be relied on, they should 
 be able to tell us." 
 
 " To tell us what ?" asked she, abruptly, almost sternly. 
 
 " I meant that they'd know — that they'd perhaps be in a position 
 
 to judge — that they at least could warn us " Here he stopped, 
 
 confused and embarrassed, and quite unable to continue. That sense 
 of embarrassment, however, came less of his own reflections than of 
 the cold, steady, and searching look which his mother never ceased to 
 bend on him. It was a gaze that seemed to imply, " Say on, and let 
 me hear how destitute of all feeling you will avow yourself." It was, 
 indeed, the meaning of her stare, and so he felt it, as the colour came 
 and went in his cheek, and a sense of faintish sickness crept over him. 
 
 " The post has arrived, my Lady, and I have left your Ladyship's 
 letters on the dressing-table," said a servant. And Lady Dorothea, 
 who had been impatiently awaiting the mail, hastened at once to her 
 room.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIJST. 525 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 A LETTER THAT NEVER REACHES ITS ADDRESS. 
 
 It was not without a very painful emotion that Lady Dorothea 
 turned over a mass of letters addressed to her husband. They came 
 from various quarters, written in all the moods of many minds. 
 Some were the mere gossip of clubs and dinner-parties — some were 
 kindly and affectionate inquiries, gentle reproachings on his silence, 
 and banterings about his pretended low spirits. A somewhat favourite 
 tone is that same raillery towards those whose lot in life seems 
 elevated above the casualties of fortune, forgetting the while tliat the 
 sunniest path has its shadows, and they whom we deem exempt 
 from the sore trials of the world have their share of its sorrows. 
 These read strangely now, as lie to whom they were addressed lay 
 breathing the heavy and laboured breath, and muttering the low 
 broken murmurs that prelude the one still deeper sleep ! 
 
 With a tremulous hand and a gesture of fretful impatience she 
 threw them from her one after the other. The topics and the 
 tone alike jarred upon her nerves. They seemed so unfeeling, too, 
 and so heartless at sucli a moment. Oh, if we wanted to moralise 
 over the uncertainty of life, what a theme might we have in the 
 simple fact that, quicker than the lines we are writing fall from our 
 pen, are oftentimes changing the whole iate and fortune of him for 
 whom we destine them ! "We are telling of hope Avliere despair has 
 already entered — we are speaking joy to a house of mourning ! But 
 one letter alone remained unopened. It was in Eepton's hand, and 
 she broke the seal, wondering how he, who of all men hated writing, 
 should have turned a correspondent. 
 
 The "Strictly confidential" of the cover was repeated within ; but 
 the hour had come when she could violate the caution, and she read 
 on. The first few lines were a half-jesting allusion to Martin's 
 croakings about his health ; but even these had a forced, constrained 
 air, and none of the jocular case of the old man's manner. " And 
 yet," continued he, " it is exactly about your health I am most 
 anxious. I want you to be strong and stout, body and mind,
 
 526 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 ready for action, and resolute. I know the tone and style tliat an 
 absentee loves and even requires to be addressed in. He wants to 
 be told that, however he may be personally regretted, matters go on 
 wonderfully well in his absence, that rent is paid, farms improved, 
 good markets abound, and the county a pattern of quietness. I could 
 tell you all this, Martin, and not a syllable of it be true. The rents 
 are not paid, partly from a season of great pressure ; but, more still, 
 from an expectancy on the side of the people, that something — they 
 know not what — is coming. The Helief Bill only relieved those who 
 wanted to job in politics and make market of their opinions ; the 
 masses it has scarcely touched. They are told they are emancipated, 
 but I am at a loss to know in what way they realise to their minds 
 the new privilege. Their leaders have seen this. Shrewd fellows as 
 they are, they have guessed what disappointment must inevitably 
 ensue when the long-promised boon can show nothing as its results 
 but certain noisy mob-orators made Parliament men ; and so they 
 have slily hinted — as yet it is only a hint — ' this is but the first step 
 — an instalment, they call it — of a large debt, every fraction of which 
 must yet be paid !' 
 
 " Now there is not in all Europe a more cunning or a deeper 
 fellow than Paddy. He has an Italian's subtlety and a Celt's sus- 
 picion ; but enlist his self-love, his vanity, and his acquisitiveness in 
 any scheme, and all his shrewdness deserts him. The old hackney 
 coach-horses never followed the hay on the end of the pole more hope- 
 fully than will he travel after some promised future of ' fine times,' 
 with plenty to eat and drink, and nothing to do for it ! They have 
 booked themselves now for this journey, and the delusion must run 
 its course. Meanwhile, rents will not be paid, farms not improved, 
 bad prices and poverty will abound, and the usual crop of discontent 
 and its consequent crime. I'm not going to inflict you with my own 
 opinions on this theme. You know well enough already that I 
 never regarded these ' Agrarian disturbances,' as they are called, in 
 the light of passing infractions of the peace, but, traced in them the 
 continuous working of a long preconcerted plan — the sclieme of very 
 different heads from those who v/orked it — by which the law should 
 ever be assailed, and the right of property everlastingly put in 
 dispute. In plain words, the system was a standing protest against 
 the sway of the Saxon in Ireland! 'The Agitators' understood 
 thoroughly how to profit by this, and they worked these alternate 
 moods of outrage and peace pretty much as the Priests of old guided 
 their auguries. They brought the game to that perfection, that a
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN, 527 
 
 murder could shake a Ministry, or a blank calendar become the 
 triumph of an Administration ! 
 
 "Such is, at the moment^ I am writing, the actual condition of 
 Ireland ! Come home, then, at once — but come alone. Come back 
 resolved to see and act for yourself. There is a lingering spark of 
 the old feudalism yet left in the people. Try and kindle it up once 
 more into the old liealthful glow of- love to the landlord. Some 
 would say, it is too late for all this ; but I wiU not think so. Ma- 
 geunis has given us an open defiance ; we are to be put on our title. 
 Now, you are well aware there is a complication here, and I shall 
 want to consult you personally ; besides, we must have a' search 
 through those registries that are locked up in the strong-room. 
 Mary tells me you carried away the key of it. I tell you frankly, I 
 wish we could hit upon some means of stopping Magennis. The 
 suit is a small war, that demands grand preparation — always a con- 
 siderable evil ! The fellow, I am told, is also concocting another 
 attack — an action against your niece and others for the forcible 
 abduction of his wife. It would read fiibulously enough, such a 
 charge, but as old Casey said, ' There never yet was anything you 
 couldn't impute at law, if you only employed the word " Conspiracy ;" ' 
 and I believe it ! The woman certainly has deserted him, and her 
 whereabouts cannot be ascertained. The scandal of such a cause 
 would of course be very great ; but if you were here we might chance 
 upon some mode of averting it— at all events, your niece shouldn't be 
 deserted at such a moment. What a noble girl it is, Martin, and how 
 gloriously she comprehends her station ! Give me a dozen Hke her, 
 and I'll bid defiance to all the machinations of all the agitators ; and 
 they know it ! 
 
 " If your estate has resisted longer than those of your neighbours 
 the demoralising influences that are now at work here, you owe it to 
 Mary. If crime has not left its track of blood along your avenue or 
 on your door-sill, it is she who has saved you. If the midnight hour 
 has not been scared by the flame of your burning house or haggard, 
 thank her for it — ay, Martin, her courage, her devotion, her watch- 
 ful charity, her unceasing benevolence, the glorious guarantee her 
 daily life gives, that she at least is with the people in all their suffer- 
 ings and their trials ! You or I had abandoned with impatience the 
 cause that she had succoured against every disappointment. Her 
 woman's nature has endowed her with a higher and a nobler energy 
 than ever a man possessed. She icill not be defeated ! 
 
 " Henderson may bewail, and Maurice Scanlan deride, the short-
 
 528 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN". 
 
 comings of the people. But through evil and good report she is 
 there to hear from their own lips, to see with her own eyes, the story 
 of their sorrows. Is this nothing ? Is there no lesson in the fact 
 that she, nurtured in every luxury, braves tlie wildest day of winter 
 in her mission of charity ? — that the most squalid misery, the most 
 pestilent disease, never deterred lier? I saw her a few days back 
 coming home at daybreak ; slie liad passed the niglit in a hovel, wliere 
 neither you nor I would have taken shelter in a storm. The hectic 
 flush of fatigue and anxiety was on her cheek ; her eyes, deep sunk, 
 showed weariness; and her very voice, as she spoke to me, was 
 tremulous and weak ; and of what, thinlc you, was her mind full ? Of 
 the noble calm, the glorious, patient endurance of those she had just 
 quitted. ' What lessons might we not learn,' said she, 'beneath the 
 wet thatch of poverty. There are three struck down with fever in that 
 cabin ; she who remains to nurse them is a little girl of scarcely thirteen. 
 There is all that can render sickness wretched around them. They 
 are in pain and in want; cold winds and rain sweep across their 
 beds, if we could call them such. If they cherish the love of life, it 
 must be through some instinct above all reason ; and there they lie, 
 uncomplaining. The little remnant of their strength exhausts itself 
 in a look of thankfulness — a faint effort to say their gratitude. Oh, if 
 querulous hypochondriacism could but see them, what teaching might 
 it learn ! Sufferings that call forth from us not alone peevishness 
 and impatience, but actually traits of rude and ungenerous meaning, 
 develop in them an almost refined courtesy, and a trustfulness that 
 supplies all that is most choice in words of gratitude.' 
 
 " And this is the girl whose life every day, every hour is imperil- 
 ling — who encounters all the hazards of our treacherous climate, and 
 ail the more fatal dangers of a season of pestilence, without friends, 
 without a home ! Now, Martin, apart from all higher and better 
 considerations on the subject, this was not your compact — such was 
 not the text of your bargain with poor Barry ! The pledge you gave 
 him at your last parting was, that she should be your daughter. That 
 you made her feel all the affection of one, none can tell more surely 
 than myself. That your own heart responds to her love I am as fully 
 convinced of. But this is not enough, my dear Martin. She has 
 rights — actual rights — that no special pleading on the score of inten- 
 tions or good wishes can satisfy. I should but unworthily discharge 
 my office, as your oldest friend in the world, if I did not place this 
 before you broadly and plainly. Tlie country is dull and wearisome, 
 devoid of society, and without resources, and you leave it ; but you
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 529 
 
 leave behind you, to endure all its monotony, all its weariness, one 
 who possesses every charm and every attraction that are valued in 
 the great world ! There is fever and plague abroad, insurrection 
 threatens, and midnight disturbances are rife, and she who is to con- 
 front these perils is a girl of twenty-. The spirit of an invading party 
 threatens to break down all the ' prestige' of old family name and 
 property — a cunningly devised scheme menaces the existence of an 
 influence that has endured for centuries ; and to oppose its working, 
 or fall victim to its onslaught, you leave a young lady, whose very 
 impulses of generous meaning may be made snares to entrap her. 
 In a word, you neglect duty, desert danger, shun tlie path of honour- 
 able exertion, and retreat before the menace of an encounter, to place, 
 where you should stand yourself, the frail figure and gentle nature of 
 one who was a cliild, as it were, but yesterday. Neither your health 
 nor your happiness can be purchased at such a price — your con- 
 science is too sound for that — nor can even your ease ! 'No, Martin, 
 your thoughts will stray over here, and linger amongst these lonely 
 glens that she is treading. Tour fancy will follow her through the 
 dark nights of winter, as alone she goes forth on her mission of 
 mercy. You will think of her, stooping to teach the young — bendinw 
 over the sick bed of age. And then, tracing her footsteps home- 
 ward, you will see her sit down by a solitary hearth — none of her 
 own around her — not one to advise, to counsel, to encourage her ! I 
 will say no more on this theme ; your own true heart has already 
 anticipated all that J could sjjeaJc — all that i/ou should do. 
 
 " ISTow for one more question, and I shall have finished the most 
 painful letter I ever wrote in my life. There are rumours — I cannot 
 trace them, nor fully understand them, but they imply that Captain 
 Martin has been raising very considerable sums by reversionary 
 bonds and post-obits. AVithout being able to give even a guess as to 
 the truth of this, I draw your attention to the bare possibilitj-, as of a 
 case full of vei-y serious complications. Speak to your son at once on 
 the subject, and learn the truth — the whole trutli. My own fears 
 upon the matter have been considerably strengthened by hearing of 
 a person who has been for several weeks back making inquiries on the 
 estate. He has resided usually at Kilkieran, and spends his time 
 traversing the property in all directions, investigating questions of 
 rent, wages, and tenure of land. They tell marvellous stories of liis 
 charity and so fortli — blinds, doubtless, to cover his own immediate 
 objects. Mary, however, I ought to say, takes a very different view 
 of his character, and is so anxious to know him personally, that I 
 
 2 M
 
 530 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 have promised her to visit him, and bring him to visit her at the 
 cottage. And, by the way, Martin, why should she he at the cottage 
 — why not at Cro' Martin ? "What miserable economy has dictated 
 a change that must reflect upon her influence, not to speak of what 
 is justly due to her own station ? I could swear that you never gave 
 a willing consent to this arrangement. No, no, Martin, the plan was 
 never yours. 
 
 " I'm not going to bore you with borough politics. To tell truth, 
 I can't comprehend them. They want to get rid of Massiugbred, 
 but they don't see who is to succeed him. Young Nelligan ought to 
 be the man, but he will not. He despises his party — or at least what 
 would call itself his party — and is resolved never to concern himself 
 with public aftairs. Meanwhile he is carrying all before him at the 
 Bar, and is as sure of the Bench as though he were on it. 
 
 " "When he heard of Magennis's intention of bringing this action 
 against Mary, he came up to town to ask me to engage him on our 
 side, ' since,' said he, * if they send me a brief I cannot refuse it, and 
 if I accept it, I promise you it shall be my last cause, for I have 
 resolved to abandon the Bar the day after.' This, of course, was in 
 strictest secrecy, and so you must regard it. He is a cold, calm 
 fellow, and yet on this occasion he seemed fidl of impulsive ac- 
 tion, 
 
 " I had something to tell you about Henderson, but I actually 
 forget what it was. I can only remember it was disagreeable, and as 
 this epistle has its due share of bitters, my want of memory is perhaps 
 a benefit, and so to release you at once, I'll write myself, as I have 
 never ceased to be for forty years, 
 
 " Tour attached friend, 
 
 " Val. Eepton. 
 
 " I believe I was wrong about Henderson ; at least the disagreeable 
 went no further than that he is supposed to be the channel through 
 which Lady Dorothea occasionally issues directions, not always in 
 agreement with Mary's notions. And as your niece never liked the 
 man, the measures are not more palatable when they come through 
 his intervention." 
 
 Lady Dorothea was still pondering over this letter, in which there 
 were so many things to consider, when a hurried message called her 
 to the sick room. As she approached the room, she could hear 
 Martin's voice calling imperiously and angrily to the servants, and
 
 THE MAUTINS OF CUO' MAHTIN. 531 
 
 ordering them to dress him. The difficulty of utterance seemed to 
 increase his irritation, and gave to his words a harsh, discordant tone, 
 Yery unlike his natural voice. 
 
 " So," cried he, as she entered, ''you have come at last. I am nigh 
 exhausted with telling them what I want. I must get up, Dora. 
 They must help me to dress." 
 
 As he was thus speaking, the servants, at a gesture from her Lady- 
 ship, quietly stole from the chamhcr, leaving her alone at his bed- 
 side. 
 
 "You are too weak for this exertion, Godfrey," said she, calmly. 
 " Any eiFort like this is certain to injure you." 
 
 "Tou think so?" asked he, with the tone of deference that he 
 generally used towards her. " Perhaps you are right, Dora ; but 
 how can it be helped ? — there is so much to do, such a long way to 
 travel. AVhat a strange confusion is over me. Do you know, Dolly," 
 — here his voice fell to a mere whisper — " you'll scarcely credit it, but 
 all the time I have been fancying myself at Cro' Martin, and here we 
 are in — in — what do jon call the place ?" 
 
 "Baden." 
 
 " Yes — yes — but the country ?" 
 
 " Germany." 
 
 " Ay, to be sure, Germany — hundreds of miles away from home !" 
 Here he raised himself on one arm, and cast a look of searching eager- 
 ness through the room. " Is he gone ?" whispered he, timidly. 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking?" said she. 
 
 " Hush, Dolly, hush !" whispered he still lower. " I promised I'd 
 not tell any one, even you, of his being here. But I must speak of 
 it — I must — or my brain will turn. He teas here — he sat in that 
 very chair — he held my hand within both his own. .Poor, poor 
 fellow ! how his eyes filled when he saw me. He little knew how 
 changed he himself was ! — his hair white as snow, and his eyes so 
 dimmed !" 
 
 " This was a dream, Godfrey — only a dream." 
 
 "I thought you'd say so — I knew it," said he, sorrowfully; "but 
 I know better. The dear old voice rang in my heart as I used to 
 hear it when a child, as he said, ' Do you remember me ?' To be sure 
 I remembered him, and I told him to go and fetch Molly ; and his 
 brow darkened when I said this, and he drew back his hand, and said, 
 ' You have deserted her — she is not here !' " 
 
 "All this is mere fancy, Godfrey, you have been dreaming of 
 home." 
 
 2 m2
 
 532 THE MARTINS OP CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 "Ay," muttered he, gloomily, "it was but too true ; we did desert 
 her, and that was not our bargain, Dolly. It was all the poor fellow 
 asked at our hands — his last, his only condition. What's that letter 
 you have there ?" cried he, impatiently, as Lady Dorothea, in the 
 agitation of the moment, continued to crumple Eepton's letter within 
 her fingers. 
 
 " A letter I had been reading," said she, sternly. 
 
 " From whom — from whom ?" asked he, still more eagerly, 
 
 "A letter from Mr. Eepton. You shall read it when you are 
 better. Tou are too weak for all this exertion, Grodfrey ; you must 
 submit " 
 
 " Submit !" broke he in, " the very word he said. Tou submit 
 yourself to anything, if it only purchase your selfish ease. No, 
 Dolly, no, I am wrong. It was / that said so. I owned to him how 
 unworthily I had acted. Give me that letter, Madam. Let me see 
 it," said he, imperiously. 
 
 " When you are more tranquil, Godfrey — in a fitting state." 
 
 " I tell you. Madam," cried he, fiercely, " this is no time for trifling 
 or deception. Eepton knows all our aftairs. If he has written now, 
 it is because matters are imminent. My head is clear now. I can 
 think — I can speak. It is full time Harry should hear the truth. 
 Let him come here." 
 
 " Take a little rest, Godfrey, be it only half an hour, and you shall 
 have everything as you wish it." 
 
 " Half an hour ! you speak of half an hour to one whose years are 
 minutes now !" said he, in a broken voice. "This poor brain, Dora, 
 is already wandering. The strange things I have seen so lately — that 
 poor fellow come back after so many years — so changed, so sadly 
 changed — but I knew him through all the mist and vapour of this 
 feverish state — I saw him clearly, my o^vn dear Barry!" The word, 
 as it were tlie last barrier to his emotion, brought forth a gush of 
 tears, and burying his face within the bedclothes, he sobbed himself 
 to sleep. As he slept, however, he continued to mutter about home 
 and long passed years — of boyish sports with his brother ; childish 
 joys and sorrows were all mingled there, with now and then some 
 gloomier reveries of later days. 
 
 " He has been wandering in his mind !" whispered Lady Dorothea 
 to her son, as he jouied her in tlie darkened room. "He woke up, 
 believing that he had seen his brother, and the effect was very 
 painful." 
 
 " Has he asked for we .? " inquired the other.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 533 
 
 " No ; he rambled on about ]Mary, and Laving deserted her, and 
 all that ; and just as ill-luck ^vould have it, here is a letter from 
 Eepton, exactly filled with the very same theme. He insists on seeing 
 it, but of course he will have forgotten it when he awakes." 
 
 " Tou have written to Scanlan ?" asked he. 
 
 "Tes ; my letter has been sent off." 
 
 " Minutes are precious now. If anything should occur here" — liis 
 eyes turned towards the sick bed as he spoke — " Merl will refuse to 
 treat. His people — I know they are his — are hovering about the hotel 
 all the morning. I heard the waiter whispering as I passed, and caught 
 the words, ' No better — worse, if anything.' The tidings would be in 
 London before the post." 
 
 Lady Dorothea made no reply, and all was now silent, save the 
 unequal but heavy breathings of the sick man, and the faint, low 
 mutterings of his dream. " In the arras — between the window and 
 the wall — there it is, Barry," cried he, in a clear, distinct voice. 
 " Eepton has a copy of it too, with Catty's signature — old Catty 
 Broon." 
 
 " What is he dreaming of?" asked the young man. 
 
 But, instead of replying to the question. Lady Dorothea bent down 
 her head to catch the now muttered words of the sleeper. 
 
 "He says something of a key. What key does he mean?" asked 
 he. 
 
 "Fetch me that writing-desk," said Lady Dorothea, as slie took 
 several keys from her pockets, and noiselessly unlocking the box, she 
 began to search amidst its contents. As she continued, her gestures 
 grew more and more hurried — she threw papers recklessly here and 
 there, and at last emptied the entire upon the table before her. 
 " See — search if there be a key here," cried she, in a broken voice ; 
 " I saw it here three davs ago." 
 
 " There is none here noAV," said he, wondering at her eager- 
 ness. 
 
 " Look carefully — look well for it," said she, her voice trembling 
 at every word. 
 
 " Is it of such consequence ?" 
 
 "It is of such consequence," broke she in, "that he into whoso 
 hands it falls can leave you and me beggars on the world !" An 
 effort at awaking by the sick man here made her hastily restore the 
 papers to the desk, which she locked, and replaced upon the table. 
 
 "Was it the Henderson did this?" said she aloud, as if asking 
 the question of herself. " Could she have known this secret?"
 
 534 THE MA.ETINS OF CRO' MARTm. 
 
 " Did what ? "What secret ?" asked he, anxiously. 
 
 A low, long sigh announced that the sick man was awaking, and 
 in a faint voice he said, " I feel better, Dora. I have had a sleep, 
 and been dreaming of home and long ago. To-morrow, or next day, 
 perhaps, I may be strong enough to leave this. I want to be back 
 there again. Nay, don't refuse me," said he, timidly. 
 
 " "Wlien you are equal to the journey " 
 
 " I have a still longer one before me, Dora, and even less prepara- 
 tion for it. Harry, I have something to say to you, if I were strong 
 enough to say it— this evening, perhaps." Wearied by the efforts 
 he had made, he lay back again with a heavy sigh, and was silent. 
 
 " Is he worse — is he weaker ?" asked his son. 
 
 A mournful nod of the head was her reply. 
 
 Young Martin arose and stole noiselessly from the room, he 
 scarcely knew whither ; he indeed cared not which way he turned. 
 The future threw its darkest shadows before him. He had little to 
 hope for, as little to love. His servant gave him a letter, which 
 Massingbred had left on his departure, but he never opened it ; and 
 in a listless vacuity he wandered out into the wood. 
 
 It was evening as he turned homeward. His first glance was to- 
 wards the windows of his father's room. They were wont to be 
 closely shuttered and fastened ; now, one of them lay partly open, 
 and a slight breeze stirred the curtain within. A faint, sicklv fear 
 of he knew not what, crept over him. He walked on quicker; but 
 as he drew nigh the door his servant met him. " WeU !" cried he, 
 as though expecting a message. 
 
 " Yes, Sir, it is all over— he went off about an hour since." The 
 man added something, but Martin heard no more, but hurried to his 
 room, and locked the door.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAEIIN. 535 
 
 CHAPTEE LVI. 
 
 A VERT BRIEF INTEBVIEW. 
 
 When Jack Massingbred found himself once more " in town," 
 and saw that the tide of the mighty world there rolled on the same 
 full, boiling flood he had remembered it of yore, he began to wonder 
 where and how he had latterly been spending his life. There were 
 questions of politics — mighty interests of which every one was talk- 
 ing — of which he knew nothing ; party changes and new social com- 
 binations had arisen of which he was utterly ignorant ; but what he 
 still more acutely deplored was, that he himself had, so to say, 
 dropped out of the memory of his friends, who accosted him with 
 that half-embarrassed air that says, "Have you been ill? — or in 
 India ? — or how is it that we haven't met you about ?" It was only 
 last Session he had made a flash speech — an eflbrt that his own party 
 extolled to the skies, and even the Opposition could only criticise the 
 hardihood and presumption of so very young a Member of the House — 
 and now already people had ceased to bear him in mind. 
 
 The least egotistical of men — and Massingbred did not enter into 
 this category — find it occasionally very hard to bear the cool " go-by" 
 the world gives them whenever a chance interval has withdrawn them 
 from public view. The stern truth of how little eacli atom of the 
 social scheme aftects the working of the whole machinery, is far from 
 palatable in its personal application. Massingbred was probably 
 sensitive enough on this score, but too consummate a tactician to let 
 any one guess his feelings ; and so he lounged down to the " House," 
 and lolled at his Club, and took his airings in the Park with all the 
 seeming routine of one who had never abdicated these enjoyments for 
 a day. 
 
 He had promised, and really meant, to have looked after Martin's 
 affairs on his reaching London, but it was almost a week after his return 
 that he bethought him of his pledge, his attention being then called 
 to the subject by finding on his table the visiting card of Mr. Maurice 
 Scanlan. Perhaps he was not sorr}"- to have somethiug to do — per- 
 haps he had some compunctions of conscience for his forgctfulncss ; 
 at all events, he sent his servant at once to Scanlan's hotel, with a 
 re'quest that he would call upon him as early as might be. An 
 answer was speedily returned, that Mr. Scanlan was about to start 
 for Ireland that same afternoon, but would wait upon him imme-
 
 530 THE MAETINS OF OEO' MAETIN. 
 
 diately. The message was scarcely delivered when Scanlan himself 
 appoai'cd. 
 
 Dressed iu deep mourning, but with an easy complacency of 
 manner that indicated very little of real grief, he threw himself into 
 a chair, saying, " I pledge you my word of honour, it is only to your- 
 self I'd have come this morning, Mr. Massinghred, for I'm actually 
 killed with business. No man would believe the letters I've had to 
 read and answer, the documents to examine, the deeds to compare, 
 the papers to investigate " 
 
 " Is the business settled, then — or in train of settlement ?" broke 
 in Jack. 
 
 " I suppose it is settled," replied Scanlan, with a slight laugh. 
 " Of course you know Mr. Martin is dead ?" 
 
 " Dead ! Good Heavens ! When did this occur ?" 
 
 " We got the news — that is, Merl did — the day before yesterday. 
 A friend of his who had remained at Baden to watch events, started 
 the moment he breathed his last, and reached town thirty hours 
 before the mail ; not, indeed, that the Captain has yet written a line 
 on the subject to any one." 
 
 '"' And what of tlie arrangement ? Had you come to terms previously 
 with Merl ?" 
 
 " No ; he kept negotiating and fencing with us from day to day, 
 now asking for tliis, now insisting on that, till the evening of his friend's 
 arrival, when, by special appointment, I had called to confer with 
 him. Then, indeed, he showed no disposition for further delay, but 
 frankly told me the news, and said, ' The Conferences are over, 
 Scanlan. I'm the Lord of Cro' Martin.' " 
 
 " And is this actually the case— has he really established his claim 
 iu such a manner as will stand the test of Law and the Courts ?" 
 
 " He owns every acre of it ; there's not a flaw in his title ; he has 
 managed to make all Martin's debts assume the shape of advances in 
 hard cash. There is no trace of play transactions throughout the 
 whole. I must be off", Mr. Massinghred ; there's the chaise now at 
 the door." 
 
 " Wait one moment, I entreat of you. Can nothing be done ? Is 
 it too late to attempt any compromise ?" 
 
 " To be sure it is. He has sent off instructions already to serve 
 the notice for ejectment. I've got orders myself to warn the tenants 
 not to pay the last half year, except into Court." 
 
 " AVhy, are i/ou in Mr. Merl's service, then ?" asked Jack, with one 
 of liis qvdet lauglis.
 
 THE MAETINS OP CEO' MAETIK. 
 
 " I am, and I am not," said Seanlan, reddening, " You know the 
 compact I made with Lady Dorothea at Baden. Well, of course there 
 is no longer any question about that. Still, if Miss Mary agrees to 
 accept me, I'll stand by the old family ! There's no end of trouble 
 and annoyance we couldn't give Merl before he got possession. I 
 know the estate well, and where the worst fellows on it are to be' 
 found ! It's one thing to have the parchments of a property, and it 
 is another to be able to go live on it, and draw the rents. But I can't 
 stay another minute. Good-by, Sir. Any chance of seeing you in-' 
 the "West soon ?" ^'mhrnl oiit ^1 " 
 
 " I'm not sure I'll not go over to-morrow," said Jack, musing. 
 
 " I suppose you are going to blarney the constituency," said 
 Maurice, laughing heartily at his coarse conceit. Then suddenly see- 
 ing that Massingbred did not seem to relish the freedom, he hurriedly 
 repeated his leave-takings, and departed. 
 
 CHAPTEE LVII. 
 
 THE DARK SIDE OF A CHARACTER. 
 
 " Ye might ken the style of these epistles by this time, Dinah," 
 said Mr. Plendersou, as he walked leisurely up and down a long 
 low-ceilinged room, and addressed himself to a piece of very faded 
 gentility, who sat at a Avriting-table. " She wants to hear naething ^^ 
 but what she likes, and, as near as may be, in her ain words too." 
 
 " I always feel as if I was copying out the same letter every time "^ 
 I write," whined out a weak, sickly voice. i 
 
 " The safest thing ye could do," replied he, gravely. " She never''' 
 tires o' reading that everybody on the estate is a fule or a scoundrel, ^ 
 and ye canna be far wrang when ye say the worst o' them all. Hae 
 ye told lier aboot the burnin' at Kyle-a-Noe ?" '' 
 
 " Yes, I have said that you have little doubt it was malicious." 
 
 " And hae ye said that there's not a sixpence to be had out of the 
 whole townland of Kiltimmou ?" 
 
 " I have. I have told her that, except Miss Mary herself, nobody 
 would venture into the barony." _ ■
 
 538 THE MARTINS OP CBO' MAETIN. 
 
 "The greater f ale yerself, then," said he, angrily. " Couldna ye 
 see that she'll score this as a praise o' the young leddy's courage ? 
 Te niauu just strike it out, Ma'am, and say that the place is in open 
 rebellion ' ' 
 
 " I thought you bade me say that Miss Mary had gone down there 
 and spoken to the people ?" 
 
 "I bade ye say," broke he angrily in, " that Miss Mary declared 
 no rent should be demanded o' them in their present distress ; that she 
 threw the warrants into the fire, and vowed that if we called a sale o' 
 their chattels, she'd do the same at the Castle, and give the people 
 the proceeds." 
 
 " You only said that she was in such a passion that she declared 
 she'd be right in doing so." 
 
 " I hae nae time for hair-splitting. Ma'am. I- suppose if she had a 
 right she'd exercise it ! Put down the words as I gie them to ye! 
 Te hae no forgotten the conspeeracy ?" 
 
 " I gave it exactly as you told me, and I copied out the two para- 
 graphs in the papers about it, beginning, ' Great scandal,' and ' If our 
 lauded gentry expect ' " 
 
 " That's right ; and ye hae added the private history of Joan ? 
 They'll make a fine thing o' that on the trial, showing the chosen 
 
 associate o' a young leddy to hae been nothing better than Ech ! 
 
 what are ye blubberin' aboot — is it yer feelin's, agen ? Ech ! Ma'am, 
 ye are too sentimental for a plain man like me !" 
 
 This rude speech was called up by a smothering effort to conceal 
 emotion, which would not be repressed, but burst forth in a violent 
 fit of sobbing. 
 
 " I know you didn't mean it, I know you were not thinking " 
 
 " If ye canna keep your ain counsel, ye must just pay the cost o' 
 it," said he, savagely. " Einish the letter there, and let me send it to 
 the post. I w^auted ye to say a' aboot the jN'elligans comin' up to 
 visit Miss Mary, and she goin' ower the grounds wi' thejn, and 
 sendin' them pine-apples and grapes, and how that the Doctor's girls 
 are a' ways wi' her, and that she takes old Catty out to drive along wi' 
 herself in the pony phaeton, which is condesceudin' in a way her 
 Leddyship will no approve o'. There was mony a thing beside I had 
 in my head, but ye hae driven them a' clean awa' wi' your feelin's !" 
 And he gave the last word with an almost savage severity. 
 
 " Bide a wee !" cried he, as she was folding up the letter. " Te may 
 add, that Mister Scanlan has taken to shootin' over the preserves we 
 were keepin' for the Captain, and if her Leddyship does not wish to 
 banish the woodcocks a'thegithcr, she'd better gie an order to stop
 
 THE MARTINS OF CEO MAKTIN. 539 
 
 liiin. Young Kelligan had a special peraiission from Miss Mary 
 Lersel', aud if it was na that he caiina hit a haystack at twenty yards, 
 there' d no be a cock pheasant in the whole demesne ! I think I'm 
 looldn' at her as she reads this," said he, with a malicious grin. 
 " Ech, sirs, won't her great black eyebrows meet on lier forehead, 
 and her mouth be drawn in till never a bit of a red lip be seen ! Is 
 na that a chaise I see comin' up the road?" cried he, suddenly. " Look 
 yonder!" 
 
 "I thought I saw something pass," said she, trying to strain her 
 eyes through the tears that now rose to them. 
 
 " It's a post-chaise wi' twa trunks on the top. I wonder who's 
 coming in it ?" said Henderson, as he opened the sash-dooi", and stood 
 awaiting the arrival. The chaise swept rapidly round the beech copse, 
 and drew up before the door ; the postilion dismounting, lowered the 
 steps, and assisted a lady to alight. She threw back her veil as she 
 stood on the ground, and Kate Henderson, somewhat jaded-looking 
 aud pale from her journey, was before her father. A slight flush — 
 very slight — rose to his face as he beheld her, and without uttering a 
 •word he turned and re-entered the house. 
 
 " Ye are aboot to see a visitor. Ma'am," said he to his wife ; and, 
 taking his hat, passed out of the room. Meanwhile, Kate watched 
 the postboy as he untied the luggage and deposited it at her side. 
 
 " Didn't I rowd you along well, my lady ? — ten miles in little more 
 than an hour," said he, pointing to his smoking cattle. 
 
 ''More speed than we needed," said she, with a melancholy smile, 
 while she placed some silver in his hand. 
 
 " What's this here, my lady ? It's like one of the owld ten- 
 penny bits," said he, turning over and over a coin as he spoke. 
 
 " It's French money," said she, " and unfortunately I have got 
 none other left me." 
 
 " Sure tliey'll give you what you want inside," said he, pointing 
 towards the house. ■"- '"'': 
 
 " No, no ; take tliis. It is a crown piece, and they'll surely change 
 it for you in the town." And so saying, she turned towards the door. 
 When she made one step towards it, however, she stopped. A pain- 
 ful irresolution seemed to possess her, but, recovering it, she turned 
 the handle and entered. 
 
 " We did not know you were coming — at least he never told me," 
 said her stepmother, in a weak, broken voice, as she arose from her 
 seat. 
 
 "There was no time to apprise you," said Kate, as she walked 
 towards the fire and leaned her arm on the chiumey-piece.
 
 5-10 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 "You came away suddenly, then? Had anything unpleasant — 
 was there any reason ?" 
 
 " I had been desirous of leaving for some time back. Lady Doi'o- 
 thea only gave her consent on Tuesday last — I think it was Tues- 
 day — but my head is not very clear, for I am somewhat tired." 
 There was an indescribable sadness in the way these simple words 
 were uttered, and in the sigh which followed them. 
 
 "I'm afraid he'll not be pleased at it !" said the other, timidly. 
 
 Another sigh, but still weaker than the former, was Kate's only 
 reply. 
 
 " And how did you leave Mr. Martin ? They tell us here that his 
 ease is hopeless," said Mrs. Henderson. 
 
 "He is very ill indeed; the doctors give no hope of saving him. 
 Is Miss Martin fully aware of his state ?" 
 
 " AVho can tell ? "We scarcely ever see her. Tou know that she 
 never was very partial to your father, and latterly there has been a 
 greater distance than ever between them. They differ about every- 
 thing ; and with that independent way he has " 
 
 A wide stare from Kate's full dark eyes, and expression of astonish- 
 ment, mingled with raillery, in her features, here arrested the speaker, 
 who blushed deeply in her embarrassment. 
 
 " Go on," said Kate, gently. " Pray continue, and let me hear 
 ■what it is that his independence accomplishes." 
 
 " Oh dear!" sighed the other. " I see well you are not changed, 
 Kate. You have come back with your old haught}'' spirit, and sure 
 you know well, dear, that he'll not bear it." 
 
 "I'll not impose any burden on his forbearance. A few days' 
 shelter — a week or two at furthest — will not be, perhaps, too much 
 to ask." 
 
 " So, then, you have a situation in view, Kate ?" asked she, more 
 eagerly. 
 
 " The world is a tolerably wide one, and I'm sure there is room for 
 me somewhere, even without displacing another. But let us talk of 
 anything else. How are the Nelligans ? and Joe, what is he 
 doing ?" 
 
 " The old people are just as you left them ; but Mr. Joseph is a 
 great man now — dines with the Lord-Lieutenant, and goes into all 
 the grand society of Dublin." 
 
 " Is he spoiled by his elevation ?" 
 
 "Your father thinks him haughtier than he used to be ; but many 
 say that he is exactly what he always was. Mrs. jS^elligan comes up
 
 THE MAETINS OF Cfio' MARTIIf. 541 
 
 frequently to the cottage now, and dines with Miss Martin. I'm sui-e 
 I don't know how my Lady would like to see her there." 
 
 " She is not very likely," said Kate, drily. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I mean, that nothing is less probable than Lady Dorothea's 
 return here." 
 
 "I suppose not!" half sighed Mrs. Henderson, for hers was one 
 of those sorrowful temperaments that extracts only the bitter from 
 the cup of life. In reality, she had little reason to wish for Lady 
 Dorothea's presence, but still she could make a " very good grievance" 
 out of her absence, and find in it a fitting theme for regret. " What 
 reason do you mean to give for your coming home, Kate, if he should 
 ask you ?" inquired she, after a pause. < 
 
 " That I felt dissatisfied with my place," replied Kate, coldly. 
 
 " And we were always saying what a piece of good luck it was for 
 you to be there ! Miss Mary told Mrs. Nelligan — it was only the 
 other day — that her uncle couldn't live without you — that you nursed 
 him, and read to him, and what not ; and as to her Ladyship, that 
 she never took a drive in the carriage, or answered a note, without 
 askiug your advice iirst." 
 
 " What a profound impression Miss Martin must have received of 
 my talents for intrigue!" said Kate, sneeringly. 
 
 " I believe not. I think she said something very kind and good- 
 natured, just as if it was only people who had really very great gifts 
 that could condescend to make themselves subservient without 
 humiliation. I know she said ' without humiliation,' because j^our 
 fatlier laughed when he heard it, and remarked, ' If it's Kate's 
 humility tliey like, they are assuredly thankful for small mercies !' " 
 
 " I should like to go over and see Miss Martin. What distance is 
 it from this to the cottage ?" . „ . 
 
 "It's full three miles; but it's all through the demesne." 
 ■; "I'm a good walker, and I'll go," said she, rising. " But first, 
 might I ask for a little refreshment — a cup of tea? Oh, I forgot," 
 added she, smiling, "tea is one of the foi'bidden luxuries here." 
 
 " No ; but your father doesn't like to see it in the daytime. If 
 you'd take it in your own room " 
 
 " Of course, and be most thankful. Am I to have the little room 
 with the green paper, where I used to be, long ago ?" 
 
 " Well, indeed, I can scarcely tell. The bed was taken down last 
 autumn, and as we never tliought of your coming home " 
 
 "Home!" sighed Kate, involuntarily.
 
 542 THE MABTINS OF CBO' MARTIN. 
 
 " But come into my room, aud I'll fetch you a cup of tea 
 directly." 
 
 "No, no; it is better not to risk offending liiin," said Kate, 
 calmly. " I remember, now, that this was one of his antipathies. 
 Give me anything else, for I have not eaten to-day." 
 
 "While her stepmother went in search of something to offer her, 
 Kate sat doAvn beside the fire, deep in thought. She had removed lier 
 bonnet, aud her long silky hair fell in rich masses over her neck and 
 shoulders, giving a more fixed expression to her features, which were 
 of death-like paleness. And so she sat, gazing intently on the fire, 
 as though she were reading her very destiny in the red embers before 
 her. Her preoccupation of mind was such that she never noticed the 
 ' opening of the door, nor remarked that her father had entered. The 
 noise of a chair being moved suddenly, startled her. She looked up, 
 and there he stood, his hat on his head and his arms closely folded 
 on his breast, at the opposite side of the fire. 
 
 "Well, lassie," said he, after a long and steady stare at her, 
 " ye hae left your place, or been turned oot o' it — whilk is the 
 case ?" 
 
 " I came away of my own accord," said she, calmly. 
 
 " And against my Leddy's wish ?" 
 
 " No, with her full consent." 
 
 " And how did ye do it ? for in her last letter to mysel', she says, 
 * I desire ye, therefore, to bear in mind that any step she takes on 
 this head' — meaning about going away — ' shall have been adopted 
 in direct opposition to my wishes.' What hae ye done since 
 that ?" 
 
 " I have succeeded in convincing her Ladyship that I was right in 
 leaving her!" said Kate. 
 
 " Was it the force of your poleetical convictions that impelled ye 
 to this course ?" said he, with a bitter grin, " for they tell me ye are 
 a rare champion o' the rights o' the people, and scruple not to de- 
 nounce the upper classes, while ye eat their bread." 
 
 " I denounce no one ; nor, so far as I know myself, is ingratitude 
 amongst my faults." 
 
 " Maybe, if one were to tak' your ain narrative for it, ye hae nae 
 f[uilts worse than mere failin's ! But this is na telling me why ye 
 left my Leddy." 
 
 Kate made no answer, but sat steadily watching the fire. 
 
 " Te wad rayther, mayhap, that I asked hersel' aboot it ! Well, 
 be it so. And noo comes anither point. Do ye think that if your
 
 \ 
 
 I
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIjr. 543 
 
 conduct lias iu any way given displeasure to your mistress, or 
 ofiended those in whose service ye were — do ye think, I say, that ye 
 hae the right to involve me in your shame and disgrace ?" 
 
 " Do you mean," said she, calmly, " that I had no right to come 
 here?" 
 
 " It's just exactly what I mean ; that if ye canna mak' friends 
 for yoursel', ye ought not to turn away those whilk befriend your 
 family." 
 
 " But what was I to have done, then ?" said she, gently. " There 
 were circumstances that required — imperatively required me — to 
 leave Lady Dorothea " 
 
 " Let me hear them," said he, bi-eaking in. 
 
 " It would lead me to speak of others than myself — of events 
 which are purely family matters — were I to enter upon this theme. 
 Besides," said she, rising, " I am not, so far as I know, on my trial. 
 There is not anything laid to my charge. I have no apologies to 
 render." 
 
 At this moment her stepmother appeared witt a tray at the door, 
 and seeing Henderson, endeavoured to retire unobserved, but his 
 quick eye had already detected her, and he cried out, " Come here — 
 ye canna do too much honour to a young leddy who has such a 
 vara profound esteem for hersel' ! Cake and wine ! my faith ! No 
 but ye'U deem it vara vulgar fare, after the dainties ye hae been used 
 to ! And yet, lassie, these are nae the habits here !" 
 
 " She has eaten nothing to-day !" meekly observed her stepmother. 
 
 " My fayther wad hae askit her hoo much has she earned the 
 day ?" said Henderson, severely. 
 
 "You are quite right. Sir," broke in Kate — "I have earned 
 nothing. Not just yet," added she, as her stepmother pressed a 
 glass of wine on her acceptance ; " a little later, perhaps. I have no 
 appetite now." 
 
 " Are ye sae stupid, Ma'am, that ye canna see ye are dealin' wi' 
 a fine leddy, wha is no obleeged to hae the same mind twa minutes 
 thcgither ? Ye'U hae to train wee Janet to be a' ready for whate'er 
 caprice is uppermost. But mind me, lassie" — here he turned a look 
 of stern meaning towards her — " ye hae tried for mony a lang day to 
 subdue me to your whims and fancies, as they tell me ye hae done 
 wi' sae mony others, and ye are just as far frae it noo as the first 
 time ye tried it. Ye canna cheat nor cajole me ! I know ye !" And 
 with these words, uttered in a tone of intense passion, he slowly 
 walked out of the room.
 
 ^44 %^f^Mf^m(J^s 9,f pfip'MS-mi^- 
 
 " Had he been angry witli you ? — had anything occurred before I 
 came in?" asked her stepmother. 
 
 " Very little," sighed Kate, wearily. " He was asking me why I 
 came here, I believe. I could scarcely tell him — perhaps I don't 
 very well know, myself." 
 
 " He can't get it out of his head," said the other, in a low, 
 stealthy whisper, " that, if you should leave Lady Dorothea, he will 
 be turned away out of the stewardship. He is always saying it — he 
 repeats it even in his dreams. But for that, he'd not have met you 
 so — so — unkindly." 
 
 Kate pressed her hand affectionately, and smiled a thankful ac- 
 knowledgment of this speech. " And the cottage," said she, rallying 
 suddenly, " is about three miles off?" 
 
 " Not more. Eut you could scarcely walk there and back again. 
 Besides, it is already growing late, and you have no chance of seeing 
 Miss Mary if you're not there by breakfast-time, since, when she 
 comes home of an evening, she admits no one. She reads or studies, 
 I believe, all the evening." 
 
 " I think she'd see me," said Kate ; " I should have so much to 
 tell her about her friends. I'm sure she'd see me — at least, I'll 
 try." 
 
 " But you'll eat something — you'll at least drink a glass of wine 
 before you set out ?" 
 
 " I do not like to refuse you," said Kate, smiling good-naturedly, 
 " but I couldn't swallow, now. I have a choking feeling here in my 
 throat, like a heavy cold, that seems as though it would suffocate 
 me. Good-by, for a while. I shall be quite well, once I'm in the 
 open air. Good-by !" And, so saying, she wrapped her shawl 
 around her, and motioning a farewell with her hand, set out on 
 her errand.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CKO' MAETIN. 545 
 
 CHAPTEE LYIII. 
 
 THE COTTAGE. 
 
 It was one of tliose fresh and breezy days "where brilliant flashes 
 of sunlight alternate with deep shadow, making of every landscape 
 a succession of pictures, that Kate Henderson set out on her way to 
 the cottage. Her path led through the demesne, but it was as wild 
 as any forest scene in Germany, now, wending through dark woods, 
 now, issuing forth over swelling lawns, from which the view extended 
 many a mile away, — at one moment displaying the great rugged moun- 
 tains of Connemara, and at another, the broad blue sea, heaving 
 heavily, and thundering in sullen roar against the rocks. 
 
 The fast-flitting clouds, the breezy grass, the wind-shaken foliage 
 and the white-crested waves, all were emblems of life ; there was 
 motion, and sound, and conflict ! and yet to her heart, as she wallied 
 along, these influences imparted no sense of pleasure or relief. • For 
 a few seconds, perhaps, Avould she suddenly awake to the conscious- 
 ness of the fau^ scene before her, and murmur to herself, perchance, 
 the lines of some favourite poet ; but in another moment her gloomy 
 thoughtfulness was back again, and with bent-down head was slie 
 again moving onward. At times she walked rapidly forward, and 
 then, relaxing her pace, she would stroll listlessly along, as though 
 no object engaged her. And so was it in reality — her main desire 
 being to be free, in the open air ; to be from beneath that roof whose 
 shadow seemed to darken her very heart ! Could that haughty spirit 
 have humbled itself in sorrow she might have found relief; but her 
 proud nature had no such resource, and in her full heart injury and 
 wrong had alone their place. 
 
 " And this !" burst she forth at length — " and this is Home ! this 
 the dreamland of those far away over the seas — the cherished spot of 
 all afiections — ^the quiet nook wherein we breathe an atmosphere of 
 love, blending our lives with all dearest to us. Is it, then, that all 
 is hollow, Mse, and untrue : or is it that I alone have no part in the 
 happiness that is dift'used around me ? I know not which woidd be 
 the sadder !" 
 
 Thus, reasoning sadly, she went along, 'when suddenly, on the slope 
 of a gentle hill in front of her, gracefully encircled with a young wood 
 
 2 N
 
 546 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 of larcli and copper-beech, she caught sight of the cottage. It was a 
 tasteful imitation of those seen iu the Oberland, and with its wild 
 background of lofty mountain, an appropriate ornament to the land- 
 scape. 
 
 A small stream running over a rocky, broken bed, formed the 
 boundary of the little grounds, and over this a bridge of a single 
 plank conducted the way to the cottage. The Avhole was simple and 
 unpretending ; there was none of that smart trimness which gives to 
 such scenes the air of an imitation. The lawn, it is true, was neatly 
 shaven, and the flower-plots, which broke its uniformity, clean from 
 weeds ; but the flowers were of the simplest kind — the crocus and the 
 daff'odil had to stand no dangerous rivalry, and the hyacinth had 
 nothing to vie with. 
 
 Kate loitered for some time here, now gazing at the wild, stern 
 landscape, now listening to the brawling rivulet, whose sounds were 
 the only ones in the stillness. As she drew nigh the cottage, she 
 found the windows of a little dra-nang-room open. She looked in : all 
 was comfortable and neat-looking, but of the strictest simplicity. She 
 next turned to the little porch, and pulled the bell : in a few seconds 
 the sounds of feet were heard approaching, and a very old woman, 
 whose appearance and dress were the perfection of neatness, ap- 
 peared. 
 
 "Don't you know me, Mrs. Broon ?" said Kate, gently. 
 
 " I do not then, my lady," said she, respectfully, " for my eyes 
 is gettin' dimmer every day." 
 
 " I'm Kate Henderson, Mrs, Broon. Do you forget me ?" 
 
 " Indeed I do not," said Catty, gravely. " Tou were here with 
 the Master and my Lady ?" 
 
 " Yes. I went away with them to Germany ; but I have come 
 home for a while, and wish to pay my respects to Miss Mary." 
 
 " She isn't at home to-day," was the dry response. 
 
 "But she will return soon, I conclude. She'll be back some time 
 in the- evening, won't she ?" 
 
 "If she plazes it, she will. There's nobody to control or make her 
 do but what she likes herself," said Catty. 
 
 "I ask," said Kate, "because I'm a little tired. I've come off a 
 long journey, and if you'd allow me to rest myself, and wait a while in 
 the hope of seeing Miss Martin, I'd be very thankful." 
 
 " Come iu, then," said Catty; but the faint sigh with which the 
 words were uttered, gave but a scant significance of welcome. 
 
 Kate followed her into the little drawing-room, and, at a sign from 
 the old woman, took a seat.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 547 
 
 " Miss Mary is quite well, I'm glad to hear," said Kate, endeavour- 
 inff to introduce some conversation. 
 
 " "Will they ever come back ?" asked the old woman, in a stern, 
 harsh voice, while she paid no attention whatever to Kate's remark. 
 
 "It is very unlikely," said Kate. "Tour poor master had not 
 long to live when I came away. He was sinking rapidly." 
 
 " So I heard," muttered the other, drily ; " the last letter from Mr. 
 Eepton said 'he wasn't expected.' " 
 
 " I fear it will be a great shock to Miss Mary," said Kate. 
 
 The old woman nodded her head slowly several times without 
 speaking. 
 
 " And perhaps cause great changes here ?" continued Kate. 
 
 " There's changes enough, and too many already," muttered Catty. 
 " I remember the place upwards of eiglity years. I was bom in the 
 little liouse to the right of the road as you come up from Kelly's 
 mills. There was no mill there then, nor a school-house, no, nor a 
 dispensary either ! Musha, but the people was better off, and happier, 
 when they had none of them." 
 
 Kate smiled at the energy with which these words were uttered, 
 surmising, rightfully, that Catty's condemnation of progress had a 
 direct application to herself. 
 
 " Now, it's all readin' and writin', teachin' honest people how to 
 be rogues, and givin' them new contrivances to cheat their masters. 
 "When I knew Cro' Martin first," added she, almost fiercely, " there 
 wasn't a Scotch steward on the estate ; but there was nobody turned 
 out of his houldin', and there wasn't a cabin unroofed to make the 
 people seek shelter under a ditch." 
 
 " The world woiJd then seem growing worse every day," remarked 
 Kate, quietly. 
 
 " To be sure it is. Why wouldn't it ? Money is in every one's 
 heart. Nobody cares for his own flesh and blood. 'Tis all money ! 
 What will I get if I take that farm over another man's head, or marry- 
 that girl that likes somebody better than me ? 'Tis to be rich they're 
 all sti'ivin', and the devil never made people his OAvn children so com- 
 pletely as by teachin' them to love goold !" 
 
 "Your youug mistress has but little of this spirit in her heart!" 
 said Kate. 
 
 " Signs on it ! look at the life she leads : up before daybreak, 
 and away, many times before I'm awake. She makes a cup of coft'ee 
 herself, and saddles the pony, too, if Patsej- isn't there to do it ; and 
 she's off to Glentocher, or Knoclimullen^ twelve, fourteen miles dowii 
 the coast, with barley for one, and a bottle of wine for the other. 
 
 2n2
 
 548 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 
 
 Sometimes she has a basket with, her, just a load to carry, with tay 
 and shugar, ay, and — for slie forgets nothing— toys for the children, 
 too, and clothes and even books. And then to see herself, she's not 
 as well dressed as her own maid iused to be. . There's j^pt a, flight she 
 doesn't sit ixp patchin' and piecin' her iClotl^e^,,,|'Ti3 Billy at the 
 crossi-roads made her shoes last time for her, just becase he was 
 starvin' with nothing to do. She ordered them, and she wears them 
 too ; it makes him so proud, she says, to see them. And this is the 
 niece of the Martins of Cro' Martin ! without one of her kith or 
 kin to welcome her home at nightfall — witliout fatli,er pj*; mother, 
 brother or sister — without a kind voice to say ' God bless her,' as she 
 falls off to sleep maiiy a time iu that big chair there ; and I take off 
 her shoes without her knowiu' it, she does be, so weary and tired ; and 
 in her'.dhrames it's always talkin' to the people, givin' them courage, 
 and cheerin' them up, tellin' them there's good times for every one; 
 and once, the other evenin', she sang a bit of a song, thinkin' she was 
 in Mat Leahy's cabin auiusin' the children, and she woke up laughin', 
 and said, ' Catty, I've had such a pleasant dhrame. I thought I had 
 little Nora, my godchild, on my knee, and was teachin' her 
 
 Why arc the daisies in the grass? 
 
 I can't tell you how happy I felt!' There it w^s.: the opaly thing 
 like company to her poor heart was a dhrame !" ' 
 
 " I do not wonder that you love her, Catty," said Kate ; and the 
 word fell tremulously from her lips. 
 
 " Love her ! what's the use of such as me lovin' her ?" cried the 
 old woman, querulously. " Sure, it's not one of my kind knows how 
 good she is ! If you only seen her comin' in here, after dark, maybe, 
 wet and weary and footsoi'C, half-famished with cold and hunger, — out 
 the whole livelong day, over the mountains, where there was fever 
 and shakin' ague, and starvin' people, ravin' mad between disease 
 and destitution ; and the first word out of her mouth will be. Oh, 
 Catty, how grateful you and I ought to be with our Avarm roof over 
 us, and our snug fire to sit at, never thinkin' of who she is and what 
 she has the right to, but just makin' herself the same as me. And 
 then she'd tell me where she was, and what she seen, and how well 
 the people was bearin' up under their trials, — all the things they said 
 to her, for they'd tell her things they wouldn't tell the priest. ' Catty,' 
 said she, t'other night, ' it looks like heartlessness in me, to be in such 
 high spirits in the midst of all this misery here ; but I feel as if my 
 courage was a well that others were drinking out of; and when I go 
 into a cabin, the sick man, as he turns his head round, looks happier, 
 and I feel as if it was my spirit that was warmin' and cheerin' him ;
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 549 
 
 i;iA?A 'o;i ) lo gyiTiitu nirr str- 
 
 and when a poor sick suiferin' child looks up at me and smiles, I^m 
 ready to drop ou my knees and thank God iu gratitude.' " 
 
 Kate covered her face ^vith her hands, and never spoke ; and now 
 the oldwoirian, Trarmirig with the theme she loved best-, wanton to tell 
 various incidents and events of Mary's life — the perilous accidents 
 which befel her, the dangers she braved, tlie fatigues she encountered. 
 Even recounted by he?-, there was a strange adventurous character 
 that ran through these recitals, showing that Mary Martin, iu all she 
 thought, and said, and acted, was buoyed and sustained by a sort of 
 native chivalry tliat made her actually court the incidents where she 
 incurred the greatest hazard. It was plain to see what charm such 
 traits possessed for her who recorded them, and how in her old Celtic 
 blood ran the strong current of delight in all that pertained to the 
 adventurous and the wild. 
 
 " 'Tis her own fatlier's nature is strong in her," said Catty, with 
 enthusiasm. " Show him the horse that nobody could back, tell him 
 of a storm where no fisherman would launch his boat, point out a 
 cliff that no man could climb, and let me see who'd hould him ! She's 
 so like him, that when tliere's anything daring to be done you 
 wouldn't know her voice from his own. There now, I hear her with- 
 out," cried the old woman, as, rising suddenly, she approached the 
 window. "Don't you hear something ?" 
 
 " Nothing but the wind through the trees," said Kate. 
 
 '•Ay, but I did, and my ears are older than yours. She's riding 
 through the river now — I hear the water splashin'." 
 
 Kate tried to catch the sounds, but could not ; she walked out 
 upon the lawn to listen, but except the brawling of the stream among 
 the rocks, there was nothing to be heard. i 
 
 " D'ye see her comin' ?" asked Catty, eagerly. 
 
 "No. Tour ears must have deceived you. There is no one 
 
 coming." 
 
 " I heard her voice, as I hear yours now. I heard her spake to the 
 mare, as she always does when she's plungin' into the river. There, 
 now, don't you hear that ?" 
 
 " I hear nothing, I assure you, my dear Mrs. Broon. It is your 
 own anxiety that is misleading you ; but if you like, I'll go down to- 
 wards the river and see." And without waiting for a reply Kate 
 hastened down the slope. As she went, she could not help reflecting 
 over the superstition which attaches so much importance to these de- 
 lusions, giving them the character of actual warnings. It was doubt- 
 less from the mind dwelling so forcibly on Miss Martin's perilous life 
 that the old woman's apprehensions had assumed this palpable form.
 
 550 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 and tlms invented the very images which should react upon her with 
 terror. 
 
 " Just as I thought," cried Kate, as she stood on the bank of the 
 stream ; " all silent and deserted, no one within sight." And slowly 
 she retraced her steps towards the cottage. The old woman stood at 
 the door pale and trembling ; an attempt to smile was on her features, 
 but her heart denied the courage of the effort. 
 
 " Where is slie now ?" cried Catty, wildly. " She rung the bell 
 this minute, and I lieerd the mare trottin' round to the stable by her- 
 self, as she always does. But where's Miss Mary ?" 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Broon," said Kate, in her kindest accents, "it is 
 just as I told you. Tour mind is anxious and uneasy about Miss 
 Martin ; you are unhappy at her absence, and you think at every stir 
 you hear her coming ; but I have been to the river-side, and there is 
 no one there. I'll go round to the stables, if you wish it." 
 
 " There's no tracks of a hoof on the gravel," muttered the old 
 woman, in a broken voice ; "there was nobody here!" 
 
 " So I said," replied Kate. " It was a mere delusion— a fancy." 
 
 "A delusion— a fancy!" cried Catty, scornfully; " that's the way 
 they always spake of whatever they don't understand. It's easier to 
 say that, than confess you don't see how to explain a thing; but I 
 heerd the same sounds before you came to-day; ay, and I went down 
 to see why she wasn't comiu', and at the pool there was bubbles and 
 froth on the water, just as if a baste had passed through, but no 
 livin' thing to be seen. Wasn't that a delusion too ?" 
 
 " An accident, perchance. Only think, what lives of misery we 
 should lead were we ever tracing our own fears, and connecting them 
 with all the changes that go on around us !" 
 
 "It's two days she's away, now," muttered the old woman, who 
 only heeded her own thoughts ; " she was to be back last night, or 
 early this mornin'." 
 
 " AVhere had she gone to ?" asked Kate, who now saw that the 
 other liad lapsed into confidence. 
 
 "She's gone to the islands! — to Innishmore, and maybe on to 
 Brannock !" 
 
 "That's a long way out to sea," said Kate, thoughtfully; "but 
 still, the weather is fine, and the day favourable. Had she any other 
 object than pleasure in this excursion ?" 
 
 "Pleasure is it?" croaked Catty. " 'Tis much pleasure she does 
 be given herself! Her pleasure is to be where there's fever and want 
 —in the lonely cabin, where the sick is lyin' ! It's to find a poor 
 crayture that run away from her home she's gone now — one Joan
 
 THE MARTINS OP CBO' MAETIN. 551 
 
 Landy. She's missin' this two months, and nobody knows where 
 she's gone to ! and Miss Mary got so uneasy at Last tliat she couldn't 
 sleep by night, nor rest by day — always talkin' about her, and sayin' 
 as much as it was all her fault — as if she could know why she went, 
 or where ?" 
 
 "Did she go alone on this errand, then ?" 
 
 " To be sure slie did. "Who could she have with her ? She towld 
 
 Loony she'd want the boat with fovu* men in it, and maybe to stay 
 
 out three days, for she'd go to all the islands before she came back." 
 
 " Loony's the best sailor on the coast, I've heard, and with such 
 
 weather as this there is no cause for alarm." 
 
 Catty did not seem to heed the remark : she felt that within her 
 against which tlie words of consolation availed but little, and she sat 
 brooding sorrowfully and in silence. 
 
 " The night will soon be fallin' now," said she, at last. " I hope 
 she's not at sea!" 
 
 La spite of herself, Kate Henderson caught the contagion of the 
 old woman's terrors, and felt a dreamy^ undefiued dread of coming 
 evil. As she looked out, however, at the calm and iuir landscape, 
 which, as day declined, grew each moment more still, she rallied from 
 the gloomy thoughts, and said, 
 
 " I wish I knew how to be of any service to you, Mrs. Broon. If 
 
 you could think of anything I could do — anywhere I could go " 
 
 She stopped suddenly at a gesture from the old woman, who, lifting 
 her hand to impress silence, stood a perfect picture of eager anxiety 
 to hear. Bending down her head, old Catty stood for several seconds 
 motionless. 
 
 " Don't ye hear it now ?" broke she in. " Listeia ! I thought I heerd 
 something like a wailin' sound far off, but it is tlie wind. See how 
 the tree-tops are bendin' ! — That's three times I heerd it, now," said 
 Catty. "If ye live to be as old as me, you'll not think light of a 
 warnin'. Tou think your hearin' better because you're younger; but 
 I tell you that there's sounds that only reach ears that are goin' to 
 where the voices came from. When eyes grow dim to sights of this 
 world, they are strainin' to catch a glimpse of them that's beyond it." 
 Although no tears rose to her eyes, the withered face trembled in 
 her agony, and her clasped hands sliook in tlie suflering of lier sorrow. 
 Against impressions of this sort, Kate knew well enough how little 
 reasoning availed, and she forbore to press arguments which she was 
 aware would be unsuccessful. She tried, however, to turn tlie current 
 of the old woman's thouglits, by leading her to speak of tlie condition 
 of the country and the state of the people. Catty gave short, abrupt,
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CliO' HAETINi 
 
 and unwilling answers to all she asked, and Kate at length arose to 
 take her leave. 
 
 " You're goin' away, are ye?" said Catty, half angrily. 
 
 " I have only just remembered that I have a long way to walk, and 
 it is already growing late." ' • 
 
 " Ay, andye're impatient to be back again, at home, beside your own 
 fire, with your own people. But she has no home, and her own has 
 deserted her !"j,^,^.„, I l,,,i 
 
 "Mine has not many 'charms for me !" muttered Kate to herself. 
 
 ,;' I^'s happy for you that has lather and mother," went on the old 
 woi^ai}, "Them's the only ones, after all ! — the only ones that never 
 lo,YjeS;the less, ,tl>e, less we desarve it ! I don't wonder ye came back 
 agaip!" . And in a aoct.Oif, envious bitterness Catty wished her a 
 good night. .l,i,iM. i • 
 
 If the distance she had to walk was not shortened by the tenor of 
 her thoughts, as little did she feel impatient to press onward. Dreary 
 aii4 sad enough were her reveries. Of the wild visionary ambitions 
 which, once had stirred her heart, there remained nothing but disaj)- 
 pointments. She had but passed the threshold of life to find all 
 dreary and desolate ; but perhaps the most painfid feeling of the 
 moment was the fact that now pressed conviction on hei', and told 
 that in the humble careeo* of such a one as Mary Martin there lay a 
 Tiobler heroism and a higher devotion than in the most soaring patli 
 of political ambition, and that all the theorising as to popular rights 
 made but a sorrv figure beside the actual benefits conferred bv one 
 true-hearted lover of her kind. "She is right, and I am wi'oug!" 
 muttered she to herself " In declining to entertain questions of 
 statecraft she showed herself above, and not beneath, the proud 
 position she had taken. The very lowliness of this task is its glory. 
 Oh, if I could but win her confidence and be associated in such 
 a labour ! and yet my very birth denies me the prestige that hers 
 confers." And then she thought of kome, and all the coldness of 
 thjft cheerless greeting smote upon her heart. .'niii-jiq f)ill '.' 
 
 The moon Mas up ere, Kate arrived at her father's door. She 
 tapped at it gently, almost timidly. Her stepmother, as if expecting 
 her, came quickly, and in a low, cautious whisper told her that she 
 would find her supper ready in her bedroom. > • ' 
 
 "To-morrow, perhaps, he may be in better humour, or better 
 spirits. Good night." And so Kate silently stole along to her 
 room, her proud heart swelling painfully, and her tearless eye butn- 
 ing with all the heat of a burning brain.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CR6' MAHTIk! 5^' 
 
 0.J 080ie di^itel dc oihA biiB MA^^ ode iin .;,J rt'isz/r.^iB :of,il[iv/im i.i;ii 
 
 .eviJ'ji 10/1 'f/lci 
 
 h.,a Mtrrf oTv;:// 'ffof I; 'yfSr.il 1 Uin >i'..ifii')rn:/. t^jrt vInO -rfliil i ' 
 
 CHAPTER LIS;. ,„;i ^uiv.o,- vj^r/nh^ 
 
 Once more, but for the last time, we are at Xilkieran. T6 a'di-eary 
 day of incessant rain succeeded an evening still drearier. Wild gusts 
 swept along the little shore, and shook the frail windows and ill- 
 fitting doors of the cottages, while foam and sea-drift were ■tt'afted 
 over the; roofs, settling like snow-flakes on the tall' cliffs above them.'' 
 And yet it was midsummer ! By the almanack the time was vouched 
 to be the opening of the season ; a fact amply corroborated by tlie 
 fashiojaable assemblage then eujoyiug the hospitalities of Mrs. Cro- 
 nan'S't tea-table. There they were, with a single exception, the 
 same goodly company already presented to the reader in an earlv 
 chapter of our story. We have already mentioned the great changes 
 which, time had worked in the appearance of the little watering- 
 place. The fostering care of proprietorship Avithdra\^T3, the orna- 
 mental villa of the Martins converted into a miserable villacfe inn. 
 the works of the pier and harbour suspended, and presenting in 
 their unfinished aspect the dreary semblance of ruin and decay ; all 
 conspired with the falling fortunes of the people to make the scene 
 a sad one. Little evidence of this decline, however, could be traced 
 in the aspect of that pleasant gathering, animated with all its ancient 
 taste for whist, scandal, and shrimps ; their appetite for such luxuries 
 seeming rather to have increased than diminished by years. IVot 
 that we presuinc to say they could claim any immunity against i 
 the irrevocable decrees of age. Unhappily, the confession may be 
 deemed not exactly in accordance with gallantry ; but it is strictly 
 true, time liad no more forgotten the living than the inanimate acces- 
 sories of the picture. Miss Busk, of the Emporium,' had grown more ' 
 sour and more stately. The vinegar of her temperament Was verging 
 upon verjuice, and the ill opinion of mankind experience enforced, 
 had written itself very legibly on her features. The world had not 
 improved upon her b}' acquaintance. Not so Captain Bodkin ; fatter 
 and more wheezy than ever, he seemed to relish life rather more than 
 when younger; he had given up, too, that long struggle with himself 
 about bathing, and making up ]nH mind to sufler no " Sea change;" 
 he was, thercfoi-e, more cheerful than beibre. 
 
 As for Mrs. Cronan, " the little comforts she was used to" had sorely
 
 554 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 diminished by tlie pressure of the times, and, in consequence, she 
 drew unlimited drafts upon the past to fill up the deficiencies of the 
 present. Strange enough is it, that the faults and follies of society- 
 are just as adhesive ingredients as its higher qualities ! Tliese people 
 had grown so used to each other in all their eccentric ways and 
 oddities, that they had become fond of them ; like a pilot long 
 accustomed to rocks and sandbanks, they could only steer their course 
 where there was something to avoid ! 
 
 The remainder of the goodly company had grown stouter or 
 thinner, jollier or more peevish, as temperament inclined ; for it is 
 with human nature as with wine, if tlie liquor does not get racier 
 with years, it degenerates sadly. 
 
 The first act of the whist and backgammon playing was over, and 
 the party now sat, stood, crouched, lounged, or lay, as chance and the 
 state of the furniture permitted, at supper. At the grand table, of 
 course, were the higher dignitaries ; such as Father Maher, the 
 Captain, Miss Busk, and Mrs. Clinch : but cockles were eaten, and 
 punch discussed in various very odd quarters ; bursts of joyous 
 laughter, too, came from dark pantries, and sounds of merriment 
 mingled with the jangling crash of kitchen utensils. Eeputations 
 were roasted and pancakes fried — characters and chickens alike 
 mangled — and all the hubbub of a festival prevailed, in a scene 
 where the efforts of the fair hostess were directed to produce an air 
 of unblemished elegance and gentility. 
 
 Poor Clinch, the revenue-officer, who invariably eat what he called 
 "his bit" in some obscure quarter, alone and companionless, was 
 twice " had up" before the authorities for the row and uproar that 
 prevailed, and underwent a severe cross-examination, " as to where he 
 was when Miss Cullenane was making the salad ?" and, indeed, cut a 
 very sorry figure at the conclusion of the inquiry. All the gaieties 
 and gravities of the scene, however, gradually toned down as the 
 serious debate of the evening came on ; which was no other than the 
 lamentable condition of the prospects of Kilkieran, and the unani- 
 mous opinion of the ruinous consequences that must ensue from the 
 absence of the proprietor. 
 
 " We've little chance of getting up the news-room now," said the 
 Captain. " The Martins won't give a sixpence for anything." 
 
 " It is something to give trade an impulse we want. Sir," broke 
 in Miss Busk : " balls and assemblies ; evening reunions of the elite 
 of society, where the elegance of the toilet should rival the distingue 
 air of the company."
 
 THE MARTIKS OF CEO' MARTIN. 555 
 
 " That's word for word out of the Intelligence,^^ cried the Captaiu. 
 " It's unparliamentary to quote the newspapers." 
 
 "I detest the newspapers," broke in Miss Busk, angrily; "after 
 advertising the Emporium for two seasons in the Galwuy Celt, they 
 gave me a leading article beginning, ' As the hot weather is now 
 commencing, and tlie season for fashion approaches, we cannot better 
 serve tbe interests of our readers than by directing attention to the 
 elegant "Symposium!"' Symposium! — I give you my word of 
 honour, that's what they put it." 
 
 " Ou my conscience ! it might have been worse," chuckled out the 
 Captain. 
 
 " It was young Nelligan explained to me what it was," resumed 
 Miss Busk ; " and Scanlan said, ' I'd have an action against them for 
 damages.' " 
 
 "Keep out of law, my dear! — keep out of law!" sighed Mrs. 
 Cronan. " See to what it has reduced me ! I, that used to go out in 
 my own coach, with two men in green and gold — that had my house 
 in town, and my house in the country — that had gems and orna- 
 ments, such as a Queen might wear ! And there's all that's left me 
 now !" And she pointed to a broocli about the size of a cheese-plate, 
 where a melancholy gentleman in uniform was represented, with a 
 border of mock pearls around him. " The last pledge of affection!" 
 sobbed she. i >''! '-,»;--< ,i ■^w.- il 
 
 " Of course you wouldn't pledge it, my dear," muttered the deaf, 
 old Mrs. Few ; " and they'd give you next to nothing on it, besides." 
 
 " "We'll have law enough here soon, it seems," said Mrs. Cronan, 
 angrily, for the laugh this blunder excited was by no means flatter- 
 ing and pleasant. " There's Magenuis's action first for trial at the 
 Assizes." •'-•■ ■■ 
 
 " That will be worth hearing," said Mrs. Clinch. " They'll have 
 the first lawyers from Dublin on each side." 
 
 " Did you hear the trick they played off on Joe Nelligan about it ?" 
 asked the Captain. " It was cleverly done. Magennis found out, 
 some way or other, that Joe wanted to be engaged against him, and so 
 what does he do but gets a servant dressed up in the Martin livery, 
 and sends him to Joe's house, on the box of a coach inside of whicli 
 was a gentleman that begged a word with the Counsellor. ' You're 
 not engaged, I hope, Counsellor ]S'elligan,' says he, ' in Magennis 
 against Martin ?' ' No,' says Joe, for he caught a glimpse of the 
 livery. ' You're quite free?' says the other. ' Quite free,' says he. 
 ' That's all I want, then,' says he ; ' here's your brief, and here's your 
 
 I
 
 §5,6 TBE Mi-RTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,. 
 
 retainer;',! and lie .put botli dowa on the table,, and when. Joe looked 
 down he saw he \^as booked for Magennis, Xipu,, 1^3.7 iipagine, how 
 he felt, but he never uttered a word, for there was no help for it." , \r 
 
 ," And do you mean to tell me," cried Mrs. Clinch, " that the 
 lawyers can't help tliemselves, but must j^sfet''vlk,,?VKi i'aut^ an4, sweap 
 for any one that asks them first?".,,! ; r'.,-; •!-'(,.■[ >''','•' 1, ,;•,•! "i 
 , ."i^t's .^:^actly what I mean, ma'am," responded the Captain. 
 "They've no more choice in the matter than the hangman has as to 
 who ho'll hang." 
 
 " Tlien I'd as soon be a Guager !" exclaimed the lady, wdth a con- 
 temptuous glance at poor Chncb, who winced under the observation. 
 
 *' But I don't see what they wanted young Nelligan for," said Miss 
 Busk ; " what experience or knowledge has 7ie .'"' 
 
 " He's just the first man of the day," said Bodkin. " They tell me 
 that whether it be to crook out a flaw in the enemy's case, to pick a 
 hole in a statement, to crush a witness, or cajole the Jury, old 
 Kepton himself isn't his equal." 
 
 " I suppose, from the airs he gives himself, he must be something 
 Avonderful," said Mrs. Cron n. 
 
 " A\''ell, now, I diff'er from you there, ma'am," replied Bodkin. " I 
 think Joe is just what he always was. He was cold, silent, and distant 
 as a boy, and he's the same as a man. Look at him when he comes 
 down here at the Assizes, down to the town where his father is sell- 
 ing glue, and hides, and tenpenny-nails, and he's j List as easy and un- 
 consti-ained as if the old man was the lord of Cro' Martin Castle." 
 
 "That's the height of impertinence," broke in Miss Busk; "it's 
 only real blood has any right to rise above the depreciating accidents 
 of condition. I know it by myself." 
 
 " "Well, I wonder what he'll make of this case, anyhow," said 
 Bodkin, to escape a controversy he had no fancy for. " They tell me 
 that no action can lie on it. It's not abduction " 
 
 " For shame, Captain ; you forget there are ladies here," said Mrs. 
 Clinch. 
 
 " Indeed I don't," sighed he, with a half-comic melancholy in his 
 look. 
 
 "I'll tell you how they do it, Sir," chimed in Father Maher; 
 " W'henever there's anything in law that never was foreseen or pro- 
 vided for, against which there is neither act nor statute, they've one 
 grand and unfailing resource — they charge it as a Conspiracy. I've 
 a brother an attorney, and he tells me that there isn't a man, womanf 
 or child in the kingdom but could be indicted for doing something 
 by a Conspiracy."
 
 THE MAETIK3 OF CEO' MAETIIf. 557 
 
 ' *'Tt's'a'^r§at' comfort to know that/' said Bodkin, gravely; '^'J""'^'^' 
 
 "And whaf'tito' thtey do to her, if she's found guilty P" aske A 
 Mrs. Crouan. ' '' "' ''^' '-'■■• ■ '■• ■ 
 
 "Make her smart fb'r ihe damages, ma'am; leave her something 
 less to expend on perversion and interference Avith the people," said 
 the Priest. " The parish isn't the same since she began visiting this 
 one and reading to that. Instead of respect and con'fidence in their 
 spiritual guides, the people are running after a young girl with a 
 head full of wild schemes and contrivances. We all know by this 
 time how these things end, and the best receipt to make a Protes- 
 tant begins, ' Pirst, starve your Papist.' " ' ■ 
 *^'"''"I Tife6 to order," called out ^Bodkin, "We agreed we'd have no 
 polemics nor party discussions;"'-"''""" ■ •'■•■ii'-''''' KJ Ji:i' ■ ■■ '•■ 
 
 " Why am I appealed to, then, fot* explknati'ons'tliat'mfolte th'^ni ?" 
 cried the Priest, angrily'. " I'm supported, too, in my observations 
 by a witness none will dispute — that Scotchman, Henderson " 
 
 " By the way, isn't his daughter come home to him ?" asked 
 Bodkin, eager for a diversion. 
 
 " Indeed she is. Sir ; and a pretty story there is about it, too. MisS 
 Busk knows it all," said Mrs. Cronan. 
 
 " I have it in confidence, ma'am, from Jemima Davis — Lady Doro- 
 thea's second maid ; but I don't think it a fit subject for public con- 
 versation " '" •"""^ '"•' '■' J'''"Jj ('^•J.\.l6C /- -JMJ ii; r 
 
 ''" And ain't we in committee here'?" chimed in Bodkin ; "have we 
 any secrets from each other ?" The racy laugh of the old fellow, as he 
 threw a knowing glance around the table, i-ather disconcerted the 
 company. "Let's hear about Henderson's daughter." 
 
 " The story is soon told, Sir. Lady Dorothea detected her en- 
 deavouring to draw young Martin into a private marriage. The 
 artful creature, by some means or otlier, had obtained such an in- 
 sight into the young man's difficulties that she actually terrorised 
 over his weak mind. She discovered, too, it is suspected, something 
 rather more than indiscretions on his part." 
 
 A long low whistle from tlie Priest seemed to impart a idnd of 
 gratified surprise at this announcement. 
 
 " He had got into a habit of signing his name, they say ; and whether 
 he signed it to something he had no right to, or signed another name 
 by mistake " 
 
 '" Oh, for shame," broke in Bodkin ; " that wouldn't be one bit like 
 a Martin !" 
 
 ' ^' Perhaps you are acquainted with all the circumstances better 
 than myself, Sir ?" said Miss Busk, bristling up with anger. " Maybe
 
 558 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 you've lieard liow the Henderson girl was turned away out of the 
 rrench duke's family — how she was found in correspondence vnth. 
 the leaders of the mob in Paris ? Maybe, Sir, you are aware that she 
 Las some mysterious hold over her father, and he dares not gainsay 
 one word she says ?" 
 
 " I don't know one word of it ; and, if it wasn't thought rude, I'd 
 aav, I don't believe it either," said Bodkin, stoutly. 
 
 " I believe the worst that could be said of her," said Mrs. Clinch. 
 
 " Well, well, make her as bad as you like ; but how does that prove 
 anything against young Martin ? and if you can find nothing heavier 
 to say of him than that he wanted to marry a very handsome girl " 
 
 " A low creature !" broke in Miss Busk. 
 
 " The lowest of the low !" chimed in Mrs. Cronan. 
 
 "An impudent, upsetting minx!" added Mrs. Clinch. " Xothing 
 would serve her but a post-chaise the morning she arrived by the 
 mail for Dublin ; and, signs on it, When she got home she hadn't 
 money to pay for it !" 
 
 " It Avasn't that she left her place empty-handed, then," said Miss 
 Busk. " Jemima tells me that she managed the whole house — paid 
 for everything ; and we all know w'hat comes of that." 
 
 Miss Busk, in delivering this sentiment, was seated with her back 
 to the door, towards which suddenly every eye was now turned in 
 mingled astonishment and confusion ; she moved round to see the 
 cause, and there beheld the very object of her commentary standing 
 close behind her chair. Closely wrapped in a large cloak, the hood 
 of which she wore over her head, her tall figure looked taller and 
 more imposing in its motionless attitude. 
 
 " I have to ask pardon for this intrusion, ladies," said she, calmly, 
 " but you will forgive me when I tell the reason of it. I have just 
 received very sad tidings, which ought to be conveyed to Miss 
 Martin ; she is at the islands, and I have no means of following her, 
 unless Mr. Clinch will kindly lend me the revenue-boat " 
 
 "And accompany you, I hope," broke in Mrs. Clinch, with a 
 sneer. 
 
 Kate did not notice the taunting remark, but went on : " You 
 will be grieved to hear that Mr. Martin is no more." 
 
 "Martin dead!" muttered the Captain. 
 
 "Dead! When did he die ?" "Where did it happen?" "How?" 
 " Of what malady ?" " Are his remains coming home ?" were asked 
 in quick succession by several voices. 
 
 " This letter will tell you all that I know myself," said she, laying
 
 .m^^^.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN". 559 
 
 it on the table. " May I venture to liope Mr. Clinch will so far 
 oblige me ? The fisliermen say the sea is too rough for their craft." 
 
 " It's not exactly on the King's service, I opine, ma'am," broke 
 in Mrs. Clinch ; " but of course lie is too gallant to oppose your 
 wishes." 
 
 " Paith ! if you wanted any one with you, and would accept of 
 myself," broke in Bodkin, " I'm ready this minute ; not that exactly 
 salt water is my element." 
 
 " The young lady is accustomed to travel alone, or she is much 
 belied," said Miss Bask, witli a sneer. 
 
 " I suppose you'd better let her have the boat, Clinch," said his 
 wife, in a whisper. " There's no knowing what might come of it if 
 you refused." 
 
 " I'll go down and muster the crew for you. Miss Henderson," 
 said Clinch, not sorry to escape, although the exchange was from a 
 warm cabin to the beating rain without. 
 
 " Poor Martin !" sighed Bodkin ; " he was the first of the family for 
 many a long year that didn't breathe his last under his own roof 
 I'm sure it weighed heavily on him." 
 
 "I trust his son wiU follow his example, nevertheless," said the 
 Priest. " I don't want to see one of the name amongst us." 
 
 "You might have worse, Father Maher," said Bodkin, angrily. 
 
 And now a lively discussion ensued as to the merits of him they 
 had lost, for the most part with more of charity than many of their 
 dissertations ; from this they branched off into speculations about the 
 future. "Would the "present man" reside at home — would her 
 Ladyship come back — what would be Mary's position — how would 
 Scanlan fare — what of Henderson, too ? In fact, casualties of every 
 kind were debated, and difficulties started, that they might be as 
 readilv reconciled. Meanwhile, Kate was hasteninc: down to the 
 shore, followed, rather than escorted, by little Clincli, who, even iu 
 tlie darkness, felt that the conjugal eye Avas upon him.
 
 o60 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 THE BRANNOCK ISLANDS. 
 
 A LITTLE to tlae north-west of the island of Inuishmore are scat- 
 tered a number of small islets, some scarcely more than barren roclis, 
 called the Braunocks. One of these alone was inhabited, and that bv 
 a single family'. No isolation could be more complete than that of 
 these poor people, who thus dwelt amid the wide waste of waters, 
 never seeing the face of a stranger, and only, at long intervals, visiting 
 the mainland. Indeed, the only intercourse they could be said to 
 maintain with their fellow-men was, when by chance they fell in with 
 some homeward-bound ship at sea, and sold the little produce of their 
 nets, for they lived by fishing, and had no other subsistence. 
 
 The largest of these islands was called " Brannock-buoy," or the 
 Yellow Brannock, from the flower of a kind of crocus which grew pro- 
 fusely over it. It was a wild, desolate spot, scarcely rising above the 
 waves around it, save in one quarter, where a massive column of rock 
 rose to the height of several hundred feet, and formed the only 
 shelter against the swooping wind, which came without break or 
 hinderance from the far-away shores of Labrador. At the foot of this 
 strong barrier — so small and insignificant as to escape notice from 
 the sea — stood the little cabin of Owen Joyce. Built in a circular 
 form, the chimney in the middle, the rude structure resembled some 
 wigwam of the Prairies rather than the home of civilised beings. 
 
 Certain low partitions within subdivided tlie space into different 
 chambers, making the centre the common apartment of the family, 
 where they cooked, and ate, and chatted ; for, with all their poverty 
 and privation, theirs was a life not devoid of its own happiness, nor 
 did they believe that their lot was one to repine at. 
 
 Seasons of unprofitable labour, years of more or less pressure, they 
 had indeed experienced, but, actual want had never visited them ; 
 sickness, too, was almost as rare. Owen Joyce Avas, at the time we 
 speak of, upwards of eighty ; and although his hair was white as 
 snow, his cheek was ruddy, his white teeth were perfect, and his eye 
 — like that of INIoses — " was not dim." Surrounded by his children 
 and grandchildren, the old man lived happy and contented, his daily 
 teaching being to impress upon them the blessings they derived from
 
 r^ *-> ^ 
 
 THE MAllTINS 6t ceo' MAKTIN. 561 
 
 a life so sheltered from all the accidents of fortune ; to have, as he 
 called the island, " the little craft all their own." 
 
 The traits of race and family, the limited range of their intercourse 
 with the world, served to make them all wonderfully alike, not only 
 in feature but expression ; so that even the youngest child had some- 
 thing of the calm, steadfast look which characterised the old man. 
 The jet-black hair and eyes, and the swarthy skin, seemed to indicate 
 a Spanish origin, and gave them a type perfectly distinctive and 
 pecuUar/;'' ,_■ ,,,,;^ .„|, j. 
 
 In the midst of them moved one, who, though dressed in the light- 
 blue woollen kirtle, the favourite costume of the islands, bore in 
 her fresh, bright features the traces of a different blood ; her deep 
 blue eye, soft, and almost sleepy, her full, well-curved lips, were 
 strong contrasts to the traits around her. The most passing glance 
 would have detected that slie was not " one of them," nor had she been 
 long an inmate of this dwelling. 
 
 It chanced that some short time before, one of Joyce's sons, in 
 boarding an outward-bound American ship, had heard of a young 
 countrywoman, who, having taken her passage for New York, no 
 sooner found herself at sea — parted, as she deemed it, for ever from 
 home and country — than she gave way to the most violent grief; so 
 poignant, indeed, was her sorrow, that the captain compassionately 
 offered to relinquish her passage-money if Joyce would take charge 
 of her, and re-land her on the shores of Ireland. The offer was 
 accepted, and the same evening saw her safely deposited on the rocky 
 island of Brannock. Partly in gratitude to her deliverer, partly in 
 the indulgence of a secret wish, she asked leave to remain with them, 
 and be their servant : the compact was agreed to, and thus was she 
 there. 
 
 Theirs was not a life to engender the suspicions and distrusts 
 which are current in the busier walks of men. None asked her a 
 reason for her self-banishment, none inquired whether tlie cause of 
 her exile was crime or misfortune. They had grown to feel attach- 
 ment to her for the qualities of her gentle, quiet nature, a mild sub- 
 missive temper, and a disposition to oblige, that forgot nothing, save 
 herself Her habits had taught her resources and ways which their 
 isolated existence had denied them, and she made herself useful by 
 various arts, which, simple as they were, seemed marvellous to the 
 apprehension of her hosts, and thus, day by day, gaining on their love 
 and esteem, they came at length to regard her with an affection 
 mingled with a sort of homage. 
 
 Poor Joan Landy — for we have not to explain that it was she — 
 
 2 o
 
 562 THE MAETINS OF CBO' MAETIK. 
 
 was happy — liappiei* than ever she had been before. The one great 
 sorrow of lier life was, it is true, treasured in her heart ; her lost 
 home, her blighted hope, her severed aftection — for slie actually loved 
 Magenuis — were griefs over which she wept many an hour in secret ; 
 but there was a sense of duty, a conscious feeling of rectitude that 
 supported her in lier sacrifice, and as she thought of her old grand- 
 father's death-bed, she could say to her heart, " I have been true to 
 my word with him." 
 
 The unbroken quiet, the unchanging cliaracter of the life she 
 led — its very duties following a routine that nothing ever disturbed 
 — gave her ample time for thought ; and thought, though tinged with 
 melancholy, has its own store of consolation ; and if poor Joan sor- 
 rowed, she sorrowed like one who rather deplored the past than 
 desired to re-live it ! As time wore on, a dreamy indistinctness 
 seemed to spread itself over the memory of her former life : it ap- 
 peared little other than a mind-drawn picture. Nothing actual or 
 tangible remained to convince her of its reality. It was only at rare 
 intervals, and in the very clearest weather, the outline of the moun- 
 tains of the mainland could be seen, and when she did behold them, 
 they brought only some vague recollection to her : and so, too, the 
 memories of her once home came through the haze of distance, dim 
 and indistinct. 
 
 It was at the close of a day in June that the Joyces sat in front of 
 the little cabin, repairing their nets, and getting their tackle in 
 readiness for the sea. For some time previous the weather had been 
 broken and unfavourable. Strong west winds and heavy seas — far 
 from infrequent in these regions, even in midsummer — had rendered 
 fishing impracticable ; but now, the aspect of a new moon, rising full 
 an hour before sunset, gave promise of better, and old Joyce had got 
 the launch drawn up on shore to refi.t, and sails were spread out upon 
 the rocks to dry, and coils of rope, and anchors, and loose spars 
 littered the little space before the door. The scene was a busy, and 
 not an unpicturesque one. There was every age, from the oldest to 
 very infancy, all active — all employed. Some were caulking the 
 scams of the boat, others overhauled sails and cordage, some were 
 preparing the nets, attaching cork floats or sinkers, and two chubby 
 urchins, mere infants, laughing, fed the fire that blazed beneath a 
 large pitch-pot, the light blue smoke rising calmly into the air, and 
 telling those far away that the lone rock was not without inhabitants. 
 To all seeming, these signs of life and habitation had attracted 
 notice, for a small boat which had quitted Innishmore for the main- 
 land some time before, now altered her course, and was seen slowly
 
 THE MAETINS OP CBO ilAETIK. 563 
 
 bearing up towards tlie Brannocks. Though the sea was calm and 
 waveless, the wind was only sufficient to waft her along at the slowest 
 rate; a twinkling flash of the sea at intervals showed, however, that 
 her crew were rowing, and at length the measured beat of the oars 
 could be distinctly lieard. 
 
 Many were the speculations of those who watched her course. 
 They knew she was not a fishing craft, her light spars and white sails 
 were sufficient to refute that opinion. jSeither was she one of the 
 revenue-boats. "Wliat could she be, then, since no large ship was in 
 sight to whicli she could have belonged ? It is only to those who 
 have "t some one period or other of life sojourned in some lone spot 
 of earth, away from human intercourse, that the anxiety of these 
 poor people coidd be intelligible. If, good reader — for to you we now 
 appeal — it has not been your lot to have once on a time lived remote 
 from the world and its ways, you cannot imagine how intensely in- 
 teresting can become the commonest of those incidents which mark 
 ordinary existence. They assume, indeed, very ditierent proportions 
 from the real, and come charged with innumerable imaginings about 
 that wondrous life, fiu*, fai* away, where there are thoughts and 
 passions, and deeds and events, which never enter into the dream- 
 land of exile ! It was a little after sunset that the boat glided into 
 the small creek which formed the ouly harbour of the island, and the 
 moment after, a young girl sprang on the shore, and hastened towards 
 them. 
 
 Before the Joyces had recovered from their first surprise, they saw 
 Joan burst from the spot, and, rusliing down the slope, throw herself 
 at the stranger's feet. 
 
 "And have I found you at last, dear Joan," cried a soft, low voice, 
 while the speaker raised her tenderly from the ground, and took her 
 hand kindly within both her own. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Mary, to think you'd come after me this far ! over the 
 say !" burst out Joan, sobbing through her joy ; for joy it was that 
 now lit up her features, and made her eyes sparkle even through the 
 tresh tears that filled them. 
 
 " They told me you had sailed from Galway," resumed Mary, " and 
 I wrote to the ship-agent and found it was correct : your name was 
 in the list of passengers, and the date of the day you sailed ; but I 
 know not how it was, Joao, I still clung to the notion that you had 
 contrived this plan to escape being discovered, and that you were con- 
 cealed somewhere aloug the coast or iu the islands. I believe I used 
 to dream of this at first, but at last I thought of it aU day long." 
 
 " Thought of vie all day loug ?" broke. iu Joan, sobbing. 
 
 12 o 2
 
 ' :/■ 
 
 I 1 
 
 561. 1U.E MAUTINS OF CUO MAUTIN. 
 
 -■•Mfrrf b;i,r; 'mU imi; .':'o;i^ ' 
 
 '" And why not, poor child ? Was I not the cause of your leaving 
 
 your home ? AVas it not my persuasion that induced you to leave 
 
 tlie roof that sheltered you ? I have often wondered whether I had 
 
 right and reason on my side. I know at the time I believed I had 
 
 such. At all events, but for me you had never quitted that home ; 
 
 but see, Joan, how what we are led to do with an honest purpose, if 
 
 it fail to eflect what we had in view, often leads to better and happier 
 
 ends than we ever dreamed of I only thought of conveying to you 
 
 the last message of your poor grandfather. I little imagined how so 
 
 simple an act could influence all your future fortune in life ; and such 
 
 it has done. Mr. Magennis, suspecting or discovering what share I 
 
 had in your flight, has begun a law proceeding against me, and to 
 
 give him a rightful claim for redress, has declared you to be — all that 
 
 you wish, dear Joan — his lawful, wedded wife." 
 
 It was some time before the poor girl could stifle tho sobbing 
 which burst from her very heart. She kissed Mary's hands over and 
 over with rapture, and cried out at length, in broken, faltering 
 accents, " Didn't they say well that called you a, saint from Heaven? 
 Didn't they tell truth that said, God gave you as a blessing to us ?" 
 . ",My poor Joan, you are grateful to me for what I have no share 
 in. I am nothing but the bearer of good tidings. But tell me, bow 
 have you fared since we parted ? Let me hear all that has happened 
 to you." 
 
 Joan told her simple story in a few words, never deviating from 
 the narrative, save to speak her heartfelt gratitude to the poor people 
 who had sheltered and befriended her. 
 
 "There they are!" cried she, poiuting to the group, who, with a 
 delicacy of sentiment that might have graced the most refined class, 
 sat apart, never venturing by a look to obtrude upon the confidence 
 of the others—" there they are, and if the world was like them, life 
 wouldn't have many crosses !" 
 
 Mary rose, and drew nigh the old man, who stood up respectfully 
 to receive her. 
 
 " He doesn't know much English, Miss Marv," whispered Joan in 
 ,her ear, 
 
 " Nor am I well skilled in Irish," said Mary, smiling; "but I'll 
 do my best to thank him." 
 
 However imperfectly she spoke the native tongue, the words 
 seemed to act like a charm on those who heard them ; and as, young 
 and old, they gathered around her, their eager looks and delighted 
 faces beamed with a triumphant joy. They had learned from the 
 boatmen that it was the young Princess— as in the language of the
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' IIAETIN. 5G5 
 
 people she was called — was before tliem, and tlieir pride and happi- 
 ness knew no bounds. 
 
 Oh ! if courtiers could feel one tithe of the personal devotion to 
 the Sovereign, tliat did these jioor peasants to her they regarded as 
 their chief, what an atmosphere of chivalry would breathe within the 
 Palace of Royalty ! There was nothing they would iiot have done or 
 dared at her bidding ; and as she crossed their threshold, and sat 
 down beside their hearth, the tears of joy that rose to every eye 
 showed that this was an event to be treasured till memory could 
 retain no more! ' •■i'^ Ti-u: :u,, to oi^n^a .;.t f-i,l ji;. 
 
 -J If Mary did not speak the native dialect fluently, there was a 
 grace and a charm about the turn of the expressions she used that 
 never failed to delight those who heard her. That imaginative 
 thread which runs through the woof of Irish nature in everv rank 
 and condition of life — more conspicuous, probably, in the very 
 humblest — imparted an intense pleasure to hearing and listening to 
 her ; and she, on her side, roused and stimulated by the adventurous 
 character of the incident, the strange wild spot, the simple people, 
 their isolation and their innocence, spoke with a warmth and an 
 enthusiasm that were perfectly captivating. 
 
 She had seen much of the peasantry — known them in the most 
 imfrequented tracts — remote from all their fellow-men — in far-away 
 glens, by dreary mountains, where no footpaths led ; but anything 
 so purely simple and unsophisticated as these poor people, she had 
 never met with. Tlie sons had been — and that rarely, too — on the 
 mainland, but the children and their mothers had never left the 
 Brannocks ; they had never beheld a tree, nor even a flower, save the 
 wild crocus on their native rock. AVith what eager delight, then, 
 did they hear Mary describe the gardens of the Castle, pictures 
 that glowed with all the gorgeous colours of a fairy tale. " Tou 
 shall all come and see me, some of these days. I'll send you a mes- 
 senger, to say the time," said Mary ; " and I'll promise that what 
 you'll witness will be i'ar above my description of it!" 
 
 It was a sad moment when Mary arose to say good-by. Joan, too, 
 was to accompany her, and the grief at parting with her was extreme. 
 Again and again the children clung round her, entreating her not to 
 leave them ; and she herself half faltered in her resolution. That 
 lonely rock, that rude cabin, had been her refuge in the darkest hour 
 of her life, and she felt the superstitious terror of her class at now 
 deserting them. 
 
 " Come, come, dear Joan, remember tliat you have a home now
 
 5(iQ THE MAKXINS OF CKO' MAKTIN. 
 
 that you can rightfully return to," whispered Mary. " It is not in 
 shame, but in honour, that you go back to it." 
 
 It was already dark ere they left the Brannocks : a long, heavy 
 swell, too, the sign of a storm, coming from the westward, made the 
 boatmen eager to hasten their departure. As yet, however, the air 
 was calm and still, but it was with that oppressive stillness that fore- 
 bodes change. They hoisted their sail, but soon saw that they must, 
 for a while at least, trust to their oars. The unbroken stillness, save 
 by the measured stroke of the rowers, the dense dark atmosphere, 
 and the reaction, after a day of toil and an event of a most moving 
 kind, so overcame Mary, that, leaning on Joan's shoulder, she fell off 
 fast asleep. For a while, Joan, proud of the burden she supported, 
 devoted all her care to watch and protect her from the night air, but 
 at last weariness stole over herself, and she dropped off to slumber. 
 
 Meanwhile, the sea was rising; heavy waves struck the boat, and 
 washed over her in sheets of spray, altliough no wind was stirring. 
 
 "We'll have rain, or a gale of wind before long," said one of 
 the men. 
 
 "There's some heavy drops falling now," muttered another, 
 "Throw that sail over Miss Marj^, for it will soon come down 
 heavily." 
 
 A loud clap of thunder burst forth, and as suddenly, like a torrent, 
 the rain poured down, hissing over the dark sea, and filling the air 
 with a dull, discordant noise. Still they slept on, nor heard nor felt 
 aught of that gathering storm. 
 
 " There now, sure enough, it's coming," cried a boatman, as the 
 sail shook tremulously; and two great waves, in quick succession, 
 broke over the bow. 
 
 " We'll have to run for Innishmore," said another, "and lucky if 
 we get there before it comes on worse !" 
 
 "You ought to wake her up. Loony, and ask her what we are 
 to do." 
 
 "I'll make straight for the harbour of Kilkieran," replied the 
 helmsman. " The wind is with us, and she's a good sea-boat. Take 
 
 in the jib, Maurice, and we'll shorten all sail on her, and " 
 
 The rest of his speech was drowned in the uproar of a tremendous 
 sea, which struck the boat on her quarter and nearly overset her. 
 Not another word was now uttered, as, with the instinct of their 
 calling, they set about to prepare for the coming conflict. The main- 
 sail was quickly lowered and reefed, the oars and loose spars secured, 
 and then, seating themselves in the bottom of the boat, they waited
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 567 
 
 in silence. Bj this time the rain bad passed over, and a strong -niud 
 swept over the sea. 
 
 "She's going fast thi'ougli the water, anyway!" said one of the 
 men. But tliough the speech was meant to cheer, none felt or ac- 
 knowledged the encoiu'agement. .^^.^j- 
 
 " I'd rather than own Cro' Martin Castle Miss Mary was safe at 
 home!" said Loony, as he drew the rough sleeve of his coat across 
 his eyes, " for it's thicker it's getting over yonder !" 
 
 " It would be the black day that anything happened her !" muttered 
 another. [,„,. i, 
 
 " Musha ! we've wives and cbilder," said a third, "but she's wortb 
 a thousand of us!" 
 
 And til us, in broken whispers, they spoke ; not a thought save of 
 her, not a care save for her safety. They prayed, too, fervently, and 
 her name was in all their supplications. 
 
 " She's singing to herself in her sleep," w^hispered Loony. And 
 the rough sailors hushed to hear her. 
 
 Louder and louder, however, grew the storm, sheets of spray and 
 drift falling over the boat in showers, and all her timbers quivering 
 as she laboured in the stormy sea. A sailor whispered something in 
 Loony's ear, and he grumbled out in reply, 
 
 " Why would I wake her up r" 
 
 " But I am awake, Loony," said Mary, in a low, calm voice, " and 
 I see all our danger ; but I see, too, that you are meeting it like brave 
 men, and, better still, like good ones." 
 
 " The men was thinking we ought to bear up for Innishmore, Miss 
 Mary," said Loony, as though ashamed of offering on his own part 
 such counsel. ; 
 
 "You'll do what you think best and safest for us all, Loony." 
 
 " But you were always the captain, Miss, when you were aboord !" 
 replied he, with an effort to smile. 
 
 " And so I should be now. Loony, but that my heart is too full, 
 to be as calm and resolute as I ought to be. This poor thing liad not 
 been here now, but for me." And she wrapped her shawl around Joan 
 as she spoke. " Maybe it's anxiety, perhaps fatigue, but I have not 
 my old courage to-night !" 
 
 " Faix ! it will never be fear that will distress you," said he. 
 
 " If you mean for myself and my own safety, Loony, you are 
 right. It is not for me to repine at the hour that calls me away, but 
 I cannot bear to think how you and others, with so many dear to you, 
 should be perilled just to serve me! And poor Joan, too, at the 
 moment when life was about to brighten for her !" She held down
 
 her head for a minute or two, and then suddenly, as it were, rallying, 
 she cried out, "The boat is labouring too much for'ad, Loony: set 
 the jib on her!" 
 
 " To be sure, if you ordher it, Miss Mary ; but she has more s^il 
 now than she can carry." .d', 
 
 " Set the jib, Loony. I know the craft well ; she'll ride the waves 
 all the lighter for it. If it were but daylight, I almost think I'd 
 enjoy this. AVe've been out in as bad before." 
 
 Loony shook his head as he went forward to bend the additional 
 sail. ;r'' 
 
 " Ton see she won't bear it, Miss," cried he, as the boat plunged 
 fearfully into the trough of the sea. i |-|T,,j,yfilJ 
 
 " Let us try," said she, calmly : " stand by, ready to slack oflF!, if 
 I give the word." And so saying, she took the tiller from the sailor, 
 and seated herself on the weather-gunwale. " There, see how she 
 does it now ! Ah, Loony, confess, I am the true pilot. I knew ray 
 nerve would come back when I took my old post here. I was always 
 a coward in a carriage, if I wasn't on the box and the reins in my 
 hands: and the same at sea. Sit up to Avindward, men, and don't 
 move ; never mind baling, only keep quiet." 
 
 " Miss Mary was right," muttered one of the men ; " the head-sail 
 is drawing her high out of water!" 
 
 " Is that dark mass before us cloud, or the land?" cried she. ,n; 
 
 " It's the mountains. Miss. There, to the left, where you see the 
 dip in the ridge, that's Kilkieran. I think I see the lights on shore 
 
 now." 
 
 " I see them now myself," cried Mary. " Oh, how the sight of land 
 gives love of life ! They called earth truly who named her mother !" 
 said she to herself. " AVhat was that which swept past us, Loony ?" 
 
 "A boat. Miss; and they're hailing us now," cried he, peeping 
 over the gunwale, " They've put her about, and are following our 
 course. They came out after us." 
 
 " It was gallantly done, on such a night as this ! I was just think- 
 ing to myself that poor old Mat Landy would have been out, were 
 he living. You must take the tiller now. Loony, for I don't under- 
 stand the lights on shore." 
 
 " Because they're shifting every minute,Miss. It's torches they have, 
 and they're moving from place to place ; but we'll soon be safe, now." 
 
 " Let us not forget this night, men," said Mary, in a fervent voice. 
 And then, burying her face within her hands, she spoke no more. 
 
 It was already daybreak when they gained tlie little harbour, well- 
 nigh exhausted, and w'orn out with fatigue and anxiety. As for Mary,
 
 THE MARTINS OP CRo' MARTIIS". 569 
 
 . .. ...^ I ... ■■ . .r 
 
 wet througli and cold, she could not rise from her seat -withcjut 
 
 assistance, and almost fainted as she put her foot on shore. She 
 turned one glance seaward to where the other boat was seen follow- 
 ing them, and then, holdiug Joan's haud, she slowly toiled up the 
 rocky ascent to the village. To the crowd of every age that sur- 
 rounded her she could only give a faint, sickly smile of recognition, 
 and they, in deep reverence, stood without speaking, gazing on her 
 wan features and the dripping garments which clung to her. 
 
 " No, not to the inn, Loony," said she, to a question from him ; 
 "the first cabin we meet will shelter us, and then — home!" There 
 was something of intense sorroAV in the thought that passed then 
 through her mind, for her eyes suddenly filled up, and heavy tears 
 rolled along her cheeks. " Have they got iu, yet ?" said she, looking 
 towards the sea. 
 
 " Yes, Miss ; they're close alongside now. It's the revenue-boat 
 that went after us." '•' ^"'^ 
 
 " Wirra, wirra ! but that's bad news for her now," muttered a boat- 
 man, in conversation with an old woman at his side. 
 
 "AVIiat's the bad news, Patsey?" said Mary, overhearing him. 
 
 But the man did not dare to answer, and though he looked around 
 on every side, none would speak for him. 
 
 " Ton used to be more frank wuth me," said Mary, calmly. " Tell 
 me what has happened." ' '>' • '"',',', 
 
 Still not a word was utter-ed, a mournful silence broddedover the 
 crowd, and each seemed to shun the task of breaking it. 
 
 " Tou will make me fear worse than the reality, perhaps," said she, 
 tremulously. " Is the calamity near home ? No. Is it then my 
 uncle ?" A low faint cry burst from her, and she dropped down on 
 her knees ; but scarcely had she joined her hands to pray than she 
 fell back, fainting, to the ground. 
 
 They carried her, still insensible as she was, into a fisherman's 
 cabin, till they went in search of a conveyance to take her to the 
 
 cottage. 
 
 :jf(i y. 
 
 I L I J ' 1 1 ■ ■ 
 
 :-|(t;-i'ii I 
 >ir! .■) 'I '• f.' 
 
 fi: ,ii'i'
 
 570 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXI. 
 
 A LETTER FROM 31 ASSINGBRE U. 
 
 " Martin Arms, Oughterard. 
 
 " In spite of all your reasonings, all your cautions, acd all your 
 warnings, here I am once more, Harry, denizen of the little dreary par- 
 lour whence I first looked out at Dan Nelligau's shop something more 
 than a year since. What changes of fortune has that brief space ac- 
 complished ! what changes has it effected even in my own nature ! 
 I feel this in nothing more than in my altered relations with 
 others. If the first evidence of amendment in a man be shame and 
 sorrow for the past, I may probably be on the right road now, 
 since I heartily grieve over the worthless, pui-poseless life I have led 
 hitherto. 
 
 " I am well aware that you would not accept the reason I gave you 
 for coming here. Tou said that, as to taking leave of my constituents, 
 a letter was the ordinary and the sufficient course. Tou also hinted 
 that our intercourse had not been of that close and friendly nature 
 which requires a personal farewell, and then you suggested that other 
 and less defensible motives liad probably their share in this step. Well, 
 you are right, perfectly riglit ; I wanted to see the spot which lias so 
 far exerted an immense influence over me ; I wanted— if you will 
 have the confession— to see her too— to see her in the humble station 
 she belongs to — in the lowly garb of the steward's daughter. I was 
 curious to ascertain what change her beariug would undergo in the 
 change of position ; would she conform to the lowlier condition at 
 once and without struggle, or would her haughty nature chafe and 
 fret against the obstacles of a small and mean existence ? If you were 
 right in guessing this, you are equally wrong in the motive you 
 ascribe to me. Not, indeed, that you palpably express, but only 
 hint at it ; still I cannot endure even the shadow of such a surmise 
 without a flat and full denial. Perhaps, after all, I have mistaken 
 yoTir meaning— would it were so ! I do indeed wish that you should 
 not ascribe to me motives so unworthy and so mean. A revenge for her
 
 THE MAllTINS OF CEO' MAKTIN. 571 
 
 I'efusal of me ! a reprisal for the proud rejection of my hand and for- 
 tune ! No, my dear Harry, I feel, as I -write the words, that they 
 never were yours. You say, however, that I am curious to know if I 
 should think her as lovable and attractive in the humble dress and 
 humble station that pertain to her, as when I saw her moving more 
 than equal amongst the proudest and haughtiest of Europe. To 
 have any doubt on this score would be to distrust her sincerity of 
 character. She must be what I have ever seen her, or she is an actress. 
 Difference of condition, different associates, different duties will exact 
 different discipline, but she herself must be the same, or she is a 
 falsehood — a deception. 
 
 " And then you add, it is perhaps as well that I should ' submit to 
 the rude test of a disenchantment.' Well, I accept the challenge, 
 and I am here. 
 
 " These thoughts of self would obtrude in the very beginning of a 
 letter I had destined for other objects. You ask me for a narrative of my 
 journey and its accidents, and you shall have it. On my way over here 
 in the packet, I made acquaintance with an elderly man, who seemed 
 thoroughly acquainted with all the circumstauces of the Martins and 
 their misfortunes. From him I ascertained that all Scanlan had told 
 me was perfectly correct. Tiie reversion of the estate has been sold 
 for a sum incredibly small in proportion to its value, and in great 
 part the proceeds of gambling transactions. Martin is, therefore, 
 utterly, irretrievably ruined ! Merl has taken every step with all the 
 security of the best advice, and in a few months, weeks perhaps, will 
 be declared owner of Cro' Martin. Even in the 'fast times' we live 
 in, such rapid ruin as this stands alone ! You tell me that of your 
 own college and mess associates not more than one in five or six have 
 survived the wreck of fortune the first few years of extravagance ac- 
 complish, and that Manheim, Brussels, and Munich can show the 
 white-seamed, mock-smartened-up gentilities which once were the 
 glories of Eond-street and the Park ; but for poor Martin, I suspect, 
 even these last sanctuaries do not remain — as I hear it, he is totally 
 gone. 
 
 " Erom the very inn where I am staying Merl's agents are issuing 
 notices of all kinds to the tenants and ' others' to desist and refrain 
 from cutting timber, quarrying marbles, and what not, on certain un- 
 speakable localities, with threats in case of non-compliance. Great 
 placards cover the walls of the town, headed, ' Caution to all Tenants 
 on the Estate of Cro' Martin.' The excitement in the neighbourhood 
 is intense — overwhelming. Whatever differences of political opinion
 
 572 THE MARTINS OF CUO' MAllXIN. 
 
 existed bctw^eeii the Martins and the people of the borough, whatever 
 jealousies grew out of disparity of station, seem suddenly merged 
 in sympathy for this great misfortune. They are, of course, ignorant 
 of the cause of this suddca calamity, and ask each other ho\y, when, 
 and where such a fortune became engulphed. 
 
 " But to proceed regularly. On my reaching Dublin, after a hurried 
 visit to my father, I drove oil" to Mr. Eepton's house. Ton may re- 
 member his name as that of the old lawyer, some of whose Bar 
 stories amused you so highly. I found him in a spacious mansion of 
 an old, neglected street — Henrietta-street — once the great aristo- 
 cratic quarter of ancient Dublin, and even to this day showing traces 
 of real splendour. The old man received me in a room of immense 
 proportions, furnished as it was when Flood was the proprietor. He 
 was at luncheon when I entered ; and for company had the very 
 same stranger with whom I made acquaintance in the packet. 
 
 " Eepton started as we recognised each other, but at a sign or a 
 word, I'm not certain which, from the other, merely said, ' My 
 friend was just speaking of his having met you, Mr. Massingbred.' 
 This somewhat informal presentation over, I joined them, and we fell 
 a chatting over the story of Cro' Martin. 
 
 " They were both eager to hear sometln'ng about IVFerl, his character, 
 pursuits, and position ; and you would have been amazed to see how 
 surprised they were at my account of a man whose type we are all so 
 familiar with. 
 
 " You would scarcely credit the unfeigned astonishment manifested 
 by these two shrewd and crafty men at the sketch I gave them of our 
 Hebrew friend. One thing is quite clear, it was not the habit, some 
 forty or fifty years ago, to admit the Merls of the world to terms of 
 intimacy, far less of friendship. 
 
 " ' As I said, Eepton,' broke in the stranger, sternly, ' it all comes 
 of that degenerate tone which has crept in of late, making society 
 like a tavern, where he who can pay his bill cannot be denied 
 entrance. Such fellows as this Merl had no footing in our day. 
 The man who associated with such would have forfeited his ovm 
 place in the world.' 
 
 " ' Very true,' said Eepton ; * though we borrowed their money, we 
 never bowed to them.' 
 
 " 'And we did wisely, Sir,' retorted the other. 'The corruption 
 of their manners was fifty times worse than all their usury ! The 
 gallant Hussar Captain, as we see here, never scrupled about ad- 
 mitting to his closest intimacy a fellow not fit company for his valet.
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. StS 
 
 Can't you perceive that when a man will descend to sucli baseness to 
 obtain money, there is no measuring the depth he will go to when 
 pressed to pay it !' .Mii.Ji.;..iu jj...;- :::u . i mim.^j';'. -- 
 
 " 'I am intimate with Martin,* "said I, interrupting, 'andlcaii 
 honestly assure you that it was rather to an easy, careless, uncalcu- 
 lating disposition he owes his misfortunes, than to anything like a 
 spendthrift habit.' 
 
 " ' Mere hair-splitting this, Sir,' replied he, almost rudely. He 
 who spends what is not his own I have but one name for. It matters 
 little in my estimation whether he extorts the supply by a bill or a 
 bullet.' 
 
 " I own to you, Harry, I burned to retort to a speech the tone and 
 manner of which were both more offensive than the words, but the 
 stranger's age, his venerable appearance, and something like deep and 
 recent sorrow about him, restrained me, and I caught, by a look from 
 liepton, that he was grateful for my forbearance. 
 
 " ' Come, Sir,' said he, addressing me, ' you say you know Captain 
 Martin ; now let me ask you one question : Is there any one trait or fea- 
 ture of his character, to which, if his present misfortunes were to pass 
 away, you could attach a hope of amendment ? Has not this life of 
 bill-renewing, these eternal straits for cash — with all the humiliations 
 that accompany them — made him a mere creature of schemes and 
 plots — a usurer in spirit, tliough a pauper in fact?' ''' 'C'"" '-> 'I'' 
 
 " ' When I say. Sir, that you are addressing this demand to one 
 whom Captain Martin deems his friend, you will see the impropriety 
 you have fallen into.' 
 
 " ' My young friend is right,' broke in Eepton. ' The Court rules 
 against the question ; nor would it be evidence even if answered.' 
 
 " I was angry at this interference of Eepton's. I wanted to reply 
 to this man myself; but still, as I looked at his sorrow-struck fea- 
 tures, and saw what I fancied the marks of a proud suffering spirit, 
 I was well satisfied at not having given way to temper ; still more so 
 did I feel as he turned towards me, and, with a manner of inefiable 
 gentleness, said, ^ I entreat you to pardon me, Sir, for an outburst of 
 which I am already ashamed. A rude life and some bitter experiences 
 have made me hard of heart, and coarse in speech ; still it is only in 
 moments of forgetfulness tliat I cease to remember what indulgence 
 he owes to others who has such need of forgiveness himself.' 
 
 " I grasped his hand at once, and felt that his pressed mine like a 
 friend's. 
 
 " ' You spoke of going down to the west,' said he, after a brief pause.
 
 574 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIK. 
 
 ' I start for that country to-night ; yon would do me a great favour 
 should you accompany me.' 
 
 " I acceded at once, and he went on. liepton was to have been of 
 the party, but business delays him a few days in town. 
 
 " ' I'll join you before the end of the week,' said Kepton ; ' by that 
 time Mr. Massingbred will have expended all his borough blandish- 
 ments and be free to give us his society.' 
 
 " Though the old lawyer now tried, and tried cleverly, to lead us away 
 to lighter, pleasanter themes, the attempt was a failure ; each felt, I 
 suspect, some oppressive weight on his spirits that indisposed him to 
 less serious talk, and again we came back to the Martins, the stranger 
 evidently seeking to learn all he could of the disposition and temper 
 of the young man. 
 
 " ' It is as I thought,' said he, at last. ' It is the weak, sickly tone 
 of the day has brought all this corruption upon us ! Once upon a 
 time the vices and follies of young men took their rise in their several 
 natures — this one gambled, the other drank, and so on — the mass, 
 however, was wonderfully sound and healthy ; the present school, 
 however, is to ape a uniformity, so that each may show himself in the 
 livery of his fellows, thus imbibing -wickedness he has no taste for, 
 and none be less depraved and heartless than those around him. Let 
 the women but follow the fashion, and there's an end of us, as the 
 great people we boasted to be !' 
 
 " I give you, so well as I can trust my memory, his words, Harry, 
 but I cannot give you a certain sardonic bitterness — a tone of mingled 
 scorn and sorrow, such as I never before witnessed. He gave 
 me the impression of being one who, originally frank, generous, and 
 trustful, had, by intercourse with the world and commerce with man- 
 kind, grown to suspect every one and disbelieve in honesty, and yet 
 could not bring his heart to acknowledge what his head had deter- 
 mined. In this wise, at least, I read his character from the opportu- 
 tunities I had of conversing with him on our journey. It was easy to 
 see that he was a gentleman — taking the word in the widest of its 
 acceptations — but from things that dropped from him, I could gather 
 that his life had been that of an adventurer. He had been in the sea 
 and land services of many of those new states of Southern America, 
 had even risen to political importance in some of them ; liad possessed 
 mines and vast tracts of territory, one day, and, the next, saw himself 
 'without a piastre.' lie had conducted operations against tlic 
 Indians, and made treaties with them, and latterly had lived as the 
 elected chief of a tribe in the west of the llocky Mountains. But ho
 
 THE MAETINS OF CBO' MAHTIN. 575 
 
 knew civilised as well as savage life, had. visited Spain in the rank of 
 an envoy, and was familiar with all the great society of Eome, and the 
 intrigues of its priuce-bishops. The only theme, however, on which 
 he really warmed was sport. The Prairies brought out all his en- 
 thusiasm, and then he spoke like one carried away by glorious recol- 
 lections of a time when, as he said himself, ' heart, and hand, and 
 eye never failed him.' 
 
 " When he spoke of family ties, or home affections, it was in a spirit 
 of almost mockery, which puzzled me. His reasoning was, that the 
 attachments we form are only emanations of our own selfishness. 
 We love, simply to be loved again. Whereas, were we single-hearted, 
 we should be satisfied to know that those dear to us were well and 
 happy, and only seek to serve them without demonstration or dis- 
 play. . 
 
 " Am I wearying you, Harry, by dwelling on the traits of a man who, 
 for the brief space I have known him, has made the most profound 
 impression upon me ? Even where I dissent — as is often the case — 
 from his views, I have to own to myself, that were I he, I should 
 think and reason precisely as he does. I fancied at first that, like 
 many men who had quitted civilised life for the rude ways of the 
 ' Bush,' he would have contrasted the man of refinement unfavour- 
 ably with the savage, but he was too keen and acute for such a sweep- 
 ing fallacy ; he saw the good and evil in both, and sensibly remarked 
 how independent of all education were the really strong characteris- 
 tics of human nature. ' There is not a great quality of our first 
 men,' said he, ' that I have not found to exist among the wild tribes 
 of the Far AVest, nor is there an excellence of savage nature I have 
 not witnessed amidst the polished and tlie pampered.' 
 
 " From what I can collect, he is only hero passingly ; some family 
 matter has brought him over to this country ; but he is already im- 
 patient to be back to his old haunts and associates, and his home 
 beside the Orinoco. He has even asked me to come and visit him 
 there ; and fi-om all I can see I should be as likely to attain distinc- 
 tion among the Chaymas as in tlie House of Commons, and should 
 find the soft turf of the Savannahs as pleasant as the Opposition 
 benches. In fact, Harry, I have half promised to accept his invita- 
 tion ; and if he renew it with anything like earnestness, I am re- 
 solved to go. 
 
 " I am just setting out for the Hendersons, and while the horses 
 arc being harnessed I have re-read your letter. Of course I have 
 ' counted the cost' — I have weighed the question to a pennyweight !
 
 57G THE MAETlNS OF ceo' MAETIN. 
 
 I could already write doAvn tlie list of those who will not know me at 
 all, those who will know lue a little, and the still fewer who will know 
 my wife ! Can you not see, my dear friend, that where one drags 
 the anchor so easily, the mooriug-grouud was never good? The 
 society to which you belong by such slender attachments gives no 
 wound by separation from it. - 
 
 " My anxiety now is on a very difterent score : it is, that she will 
 still refuse me. The hope I cling to is, that she will see in my per- 
 sistence a proof of sincerity. I would toot, if I could, bring any 
 tamily influence to my aid, and yet, short of this, there is nothing I 
 would not do to ensure success. .■ " ' ' 
 
 " I wish I had never reopened your letter y that' 'vein of sarcastic 
 coolness which runs through it will never turn me from my purpose. 
 Tou seem to forget, besides, that you are talking to a man of the 
 world, just as hackneyed, just as * used up' as yourself, I should like 
 to see you assume this indolent dalliance before La Henderson! 
 Take my word for it, Harry, you'd be safer with the impertinence 
 amongst some of your duchesses in Pall Mall. You say that great 
 beauty in a woman, like genius in a man, is a kind of brevet nobility, 
 and yet you add that the envy of the world will never weary of 
 putting the possessor 'on his title.' How gladly would I accept 
 this challenge. Ay, Harry, I tell you, in all defiance, that your 
 proudest could not vie with her ! 
 
 " If I wanted a proof of the vassalage of the social state we live in, 
 T have it before me in the fact that a man like yourself, well-born, 
 young, rich, and high-hearted, should place the judgments and pre- 
 judices of half a dozen old tabbies of either sex above all the prompt- 
 ings of a noble ambition — all the sentiments of a generous devotion. 
 Your starling cry of ' the Steward's daughter,' then, does not deter, 
 it only determines the purpose 
 
 " Of yours faithfully, 
 
 " Jack Massingbeeb^-'o 
 
 "You'll see by the papers that I have accepted the Chiltern 
 Himdreds. This is the first step — now for the second!"
 
 THE MAETlIfS OF CEO' MA.ETIN. 577 
 
 CHAPTEE LXII. 
 
 A DINNER AT "THE LODG E." 
 
 While tlie Morninrj Post of a certain day, some twenty years ago, 
 Mas chronicling the illustrious guests who partook of his Majesty's 
 hospitalities at AVindsor, the Duhlin Mveniiif/ Mail, under the less 
 pretentious heading of "Viceregal Court," gave a list of those who 
 had dined with his Excellency at the Lodge. 
 
 There was not anything very striking or very new in the announce- 
 ment. Our dramatis per sonce, in this wise, are limited ; and after the 
 accustomed names of the Lord Chancellor and Mrs. Dohbs, the Master 
 of the Eolls and Mrs. Wiggins, Colonel Somebody of the 105th, Sir 
 Eelix and Miss Slasher, you invariably find the catalogue close with 
 an Under-Secretary, a King-at-Arms, and the inevitable Captain 
 Lawrence Belcour, the aide-de-camp in waiting ! — these latter re- 
 corded somewhat in the same spirit that the manager of a provincial 
 theatre swells the roll of his company, by the names of the machinist, 
 the scene-painter, and the leader of the band ! We have no peculiar 
 concern, however, with this fact, save that on the day in question our 
 old friend Joseph Nelligan figured as a Viceregal guest. It was the 
 first time he had been so honoured, and, although not of a stamp to 
 attach any great prize to the distinction, he was well aware tliat the 
 recognition was intended as an honour ; the more, wdieu an aide-de- 
 camp signified to him that his place at table was on one side of his 
 Excellency. 
 
 When this veracious history first displayed young Nelligan at a 
 dinner-party, liis manner was shy and constrained; his secluded, 
 student-like habits had given him none of that hardihood so essential 
 in society. If he knew little of passing topics, he knew less of the 
 tone men used in discussing them ; and now, although more con- 
 versant with the world and its ways, daily brought into contact with 
 tlie business of life, his social manner remained pretty nearly the 
 same cold, awkward, and diffident tiling it had been at first. Enlist 
 him in a great subject, or call upon him on a great occasion, and he 
 could rise above it ; place him in a position to escape notice, and you 
 never heard more of him. 
 
 The dinner company on this day contained nothing very formidable, 
 either on the score of station or ability. A few Bar celebrities with 
 
 2 p
 
 578 im; mahtins of ciio' ^iautin. 
 
 tlieir wives, an ecceuti-ic Dean -with a daughter, a garrison Colonel or 
 two, three country Squires, and a Doctor from Morrion-square. It 
 was that interregnal period between the time when the Castle parties 
 included the first gentry of the land, and that later era when the 
 Priest and the Agitator became the favoured guests of Viceroyalty. 
 It is scarce necessary to say it was, as regards agreeability, inferior to 
 either. There was not tlie courtly urbanity and polished pleasantry 
 of. a very accomplished class ; nor was there the shrewd and coarse 
 but racy intelligence of Mr. O'Connell's followers. 
 
 The Marquis of Eeckington had come over to Ireland to " inaugu- 
 rate," as the newspapers called it, a new policy; that is, he was to 
 give to the working of the Eelief Bill an extension and a significance 
 which few either of its supporters or opposers in Parliament ever 
 contemplated. The inequality of the Eomanist before the law he 
 might have borne; social depreciation was a heavier evil, and on© 
 quite intolerable. Now, as the change to the new system required 
 considerable tact and address, tliey entrusted the task to a most ac- 
 complished and well-bred gentleman, and were Ireland only to be won 
 by dinner-parties, Lord Eeckington must have been its victor. 
 
 To very high rank and great personal advantages he united a 
 manner of the most perfect kind. Dignified enough always to mark 
 his station and his o^\^l consciousness of it, it was cordial without 
 effort, frank and easy without display. If he could speak with all the 
 weight of authority, he knew how to listen with actual deference, and 
 there was that amomit of change and "play" in his demeanour that 
 made his companion, whoever for the moment he might be, believe 
 that his views and arguments had made a deep impression on the 
 A^iceroy. To those unacquainted with such men and the school to 
 which they belong, there might have appeared something unreal, 
 almost dramatic, in the elegant gracefulness of his bow, the gentle 
 affability of his smile, the undeviating courtesy which he bestowed on 
 all around him; but they were aU of the man himself — his very 
 instincts — his nature. 
 
 It had apparently been amongst his Excellency's instructions from 
 his Government to seek out such rising men of the Eoman Catholic 
 party as might be elevated and promoted on the just claims of their 
 individual merits — men, in fact, whose conduct and bearing would be 
 certain to justify their selection for high office. It could not be sup- 
 posed that a party long proscribed, long estranged from all participa- 
 tion in power, could be rich in such qualifications. At the Bar, the 
 ablest men usually threw themselves into the career of politics, and 
 of course, by strong partisanship more or less prejudiced their claims
 
 Tirai IVfAETINS OP CKO' MARTIN. %*tQ 
 
 to office. It was rare indeed to find one wlio, with tlie highest order 
 of abilities, was satisfied to follow a profession Avhose best rewards 
 were denied him. Such was Joseph Nelligan when he was first 
 " called," and such he continued to the very hour we now see him. 
 Great as had been his College successes, his triumphs at the Bar 
 overtopped them all. They who remembered his shy and reserved 
 manner wondered whence he came by his Dignity ; they who knew 
 his youth could not imagine bow he came by his " Law." 
 
 Mr. M'Casky, the Castle Law adviser, an old recruiting serjeant of 
 capacities, who had "tipped the shilling" to men of every party, had 
 whispered his name to the Under-Secretary, who had again repeated 
 it to the Viceroy. He was, as M'Casky said, " the man they wanted, 
 with talent enough to confront the best of the opposite party, and 
 Avealthy enough to want nothing that can figure in a budget." Hence 
 was he, then, there a favoured guest, and seated on his Excellency's 
 left hand. 
 
 Tor the magic influence of that manner Avhich we have mentioned 
 as pertaining to the Viceroy, we ask for no better evidence than the 
 sense of perfect ease which Joe Nelligan now enjoyed. The suave 
 dignity of the Marquis was blended with a something like personal 
 regard, a mysterious intimation that seemed to say, " This is the sort 
 of man I have long been looking for ; how gratifying that I should 
 have found him at last." They concurred in so many points, too, 
 not merely in opinions, but actually in the very expressions by which 
 they characterised them ; and when at last his Excellency, having 
 occasion to quote something he had said, called him '• JSTelligan," the 
 spell was complete. 
 
 Oh dear ! when we torture our brains to legislate for apothecaries, 
 endeavouring in some way or other to restrict the sale of those subtle 
 ingredients, on every grain or drop of which a human life may hang, 
 why do we never think of those far more subtle elements of which 
 great people are the dispensers — flatteries more soothing than 
 chloroform, smiles more liQling than poppy- juice ! Imagine poor 
 Nelligan under a course of this treatment, dear reader; fimcy the 
 delicioiis poison as it insinuates itself through his veins, and if you 
 have ever been so drugged yourself, picture to your mind all the 
 enjoyment he experienced. 
 
 By one of those adroit turns your social magician is master of, 
 the Viceroy had drawn the conversation towards NelHgan's county, 
 and his native town. 
 
 "I was to have paid a visit to poor Martin, there," said he, 
 "and I certainly should have looked in upon yoi^"
 
 580 THE MAHTINS or CliO' MAUTrif. 
 
 J^elligafi''s"fehMi v^^S inifla^e;^'pf}de''a^a^liti\nV^-6i-e b6th tliei^, 
 warring for the mastery. 
 
 ^-' " Poor fellow !" said his Excellency, who saw the necessity of a 
 diversion, " I fear that he has left that immense estate greatly embar- 
 <rasl^M?^ Some one mentioned to me, the other day, that the heir will 
 iidt succeed to even a fourth of the old property." '--'^^ ^'i' 
 
 "I have heard even worse, my Lord," said iNeiligaii. **There is a 
 rumour that he is left without a shilling."''' ''■•"' ''i 
 0-^ *lHow very shocking! They are connexions of my own!" said 
 tile'' Viceroy ; as though what he said made the misery attain its 
 
 '■ '^ " i' ' im/ sc^rn^- 'Ay Lbi-d; ' tliat^ linAy I^orotTiea ik related td ^yj^ifr 
 Excellency, jand I am surprised you have uot ^heard the stories I 
 allude to."'^^"'^'^''^^ ^f'^ ^^^^ ■^^''^^ ^^^ ■*'fO ^d^i/os odrr rii.txRM iisfiM 
 ^'' " But perhaps I am incorrect," said the Marquis. "It maybe that 
 ■I'Aare heard them; so many things pass through cue's ears every 
 Haj. But here is Colonel Massingbred ; he's sure to know it. 
 Massingbred, we want some news of the Martins — the Martins of 
 — what is it called ?" '"': 'nic'i --?! 
 
 Ofi ci Qyo' Martin, my Lord," said Nelligan, reddening. 
 -* "I hold the very latest news of that county in my hand," my 
 -Lord, replied the Secretary^ ^'^it is an express from my son, who 
 "'Vj'rites from Oughterard." " ■* 
 
 " Nelligan stood, scarcely breathing, with impatience to hear the 
 tidino-3. u^iM vtao 9ff* si < illoK .iM oi :AiV)qe htm Tevo ntj o;t 
 
 Colonel Massingbred ran his eyes over the first page of the letter, 
 murmuring to himself the words ; then turning over, he said, " Yes, 
 here it is : ' While I write this, the whole town is in a state of 
 intense excitement ; the Magistrates have sent in for an increased 
 force of police, and even soldiery, to repress some very serious dis- 
 turbances on the Martin property. It would appear that Merl — the 
 man who assumes to claim the property, as having purchased the 
 reversion from young Martin — was set upon by a large mob, and 
 pursued, himself and his friends, for several miles aci'oss the country. 
 They escaped with their lives ; but have arrived here in a lamentable 
 plight. There is really no understanding these people. It was but 
 ^"the other day, and there was no Surer road to their favour than to 
 abuse and vilify these same Martins, and now, they are quite ready 
 to murder any one who aspires to take their place. If one was to 
 credit the stories afloat, they have already wreaked a fatal vengeance 
 on some fellows employed by Merl to serve notices on the tenantry; 
 but I believe that the outrages have really gone no further than
 
 THE MAETINS Or CBO' MARTIN, , 581 
 
 sucli maltreatment. as Irisl?men_liket9_give,an^ are, accustomed to 
 
 take. - vto^PRm "ifft lol "^fv'^o'u 
 
 c tHere his Excellency laughed heartily, and Joe Nelligau looked 
 
 grave, /j m-.-jiv. -jiL-Jsy yaiienuin jiuij -ii'ji sf.ri 9fi 7Gr|.J icsl 1 " .norKtevib 
 Massingbred read'on:'" 'Without being myself a "n^itnesa to it, 
 I never could have credited the almost feudal attachment of these 
 people to an " Old House." The Radical party in the Borough are, 
 for the moment, proscribed, and dare not show themselves in the 
 streets ; and even Magennis, who so lately figured as ai\ enemy to 
 the Martins, passed through the town this morning with his wife, 
 with a great banner flying over his jaunting-car, inscribed " The 
 Martins for Ever!" This burst of sentiment on his part, I ought to 
 mention, was owing to a most devoted piece of heroism performed by 
 Miss Martin, who sought out the lost one and brought her safely 
 back, through a night of such storm and hurricane as few ever 
 remember. Such an act, amidst such a people, is sure of its reward. 
 The peasantiy would, to a man, lay down their lives for her ; and 
 coming critically, as the incident did, just when a new proprietor was 
 about to enforce his claim, you can fancy the added bitterness it 
 imparted to their spirit of resistance. I sincerely trust that tlie 
 Magistrates will not accede to tlie demand for an increased force. A 
 terrible collision is sure to be the result, and I know enough of these 
 people to be aware of what can be done by a little diplomacy, parti- 
 cularly when the right negotiator is employed. I mean, therefore, 
 to go over and speak to Mr. Nclligan, who is the onl}'' man of brains 
 amongst the Magistrates here.' " i i)'nci"onr8?;KivI ioirolo > 
 
 "A relative, I presume," said his Excellency. ' >rfiiiirr- 
 "My father, my Lord," replied Joe, blushing. ■- -; 
 
 " Oh! here is the result of his interview," said Massingbred, turn- 
 ing to the foot of the page : " ' jS^clligan quite agreed in the view I 
 had taken, and said tlie people woidd assiu-edly disarm, and perhaps 
 destroy any force we could send against them. He is greatly puzzled 
 what course to adopt, and wlien I. suggested tlie propriety of invoking 
 Miss Martin's aid, told me that this is out of the question, since she 
 is on a sick-bed. While we were speaking, a Dublin physician passed 
 through on his way to visit her. This really does add to the com- 
 plication, for she is, perhaps, the only one who could exert a great 
 influence over the excited populace. In any other country it might 
 read strangely, that it was to a young lady men should have recourse 
 in a moment of such peril ; but, tliis is like no other country ! the 
 people like no other people ! the young lady herself, perhaps, like no 
 other young lady !' "
 
 5*2 TUB UAtiTisB ay uao' ajjurnn. 
 
 by a tooircdj perceplibJe rnov(.'nj/.':jt oi' iuM lir^d, and a very e^bt 
 cliarige oi'voiey, Cu)oii<-] MaHHJrj^Lred intiwiatfd to the Viocroj ifaot 
 iiiere van ttomctfiijii^ i'or hit) private ear, aud l>ord iieckiugtofa itepped 
 back to hear it. j>feJJi^uiJ, tyj d«iejdy occupied in. hi* own thoug;ht» 
 U> retaark the cinnjruDtauce, Htood iu the satoe pla<:e, siient and 
 motionJcMK- 
 
 " It i* k> thjjs pa»«age," -wlinipjired the Secretary, " J want to dirert 
 your E«5ellen/;y'« attention : ' AiJ that J. «ee lujre,' iny nan writt'TB — 
 ' aJ] tliat I »«-•« hero XB ft typo of what in ^(nnf!; on, at larjje, over 
 the JBiand. Old ikiuiJle* uprooted, old ilen m^i^rni', tbc peoplu, vnth 
 ;io other inwtin/'t tliun biwl<--«neHH, henitatirjf^ wliieh uiiUi \o take. 
 'J'heir old Joad*;rK only hwjt uj>on the political, have £urf»otfc<m tlie 
 )*ociai btrugj^le, an<i thuw, th<j rn;«)»»eK are Jel't without (guidance or 
 <lir<jction. Jt in tsty i'trtn conviction that the Church of Home will 
 Hii'i7j(i Hm; liappy rnotiKMit lo \uw]} an authority ihuR uiujlsimed, and 
 the Priewt wtep iu between the J^andlord and the JJenmgojjue ; and ft 
 hi txjuaily iny beJiel'that you can only retard, not pr»^v<ait, thin cotj- 
 )!iuiijnuiii<urj. if you should b«i 'd' -/Hy opinion, arid be able to indiiw^ 
 hij« KxijeJl«ucry to think -withi un, luti fn-omptly arjd decijjivojy. Knlijrt 
 the Jij^nun (catholic J>aity in your caiiwe before you be driven to the 
 haniar «onipa/<;t ol' having; to deal with th« Ci«r|:jy. And firnt erf all, 
 make - for foiiunatidy you have the vacancy -nuikc youn|:j Nelli^ji 
 your fc> olid tor "(ieneraL' " 
 
 'I'iie Viceroy jLjave a flight utart, and «niiled. He h»<l not, ai yet, 
 a«cuj»tfwied Uiii m'tnd to such bold escrciw; of IiIh patronaj-^e, H'- 
 liv<jd, howev<fr, to i^<d over thi« >jen«aiion, 
 
 "JMy Hon," r^Hiit/ied Mji»Hinfj;bred, " ar}fue» ihi« at »f;nie lenj^h. 
 Jf you perrnlt, i'll have th<; h'ttrjr in your Kxi*llency'i» lunidw. In 
 i'at;t, I read it vat'y huniedly, and ciine oYi-r h*;r<; the nionu;nt I 
 j^lajtfXid my oyen over thix pa«Ha^(.'." 
 
 Hi» ExiU'Mnui'y took th« letter, and turned to addrewj a word to 
 Joo JVielligan, but he had hH't the np'^t. 
 
 " i5elt;our," «aid the Viceroy, "I'll Mr. j\elli;^an J wiwli to »pr;ak 
 to him. J >'hall be in the Mniall drawi/jg-rooni. J'U talk with him 
 uloite. Ma»»njj.;bn;d, be ready to come wlix;n J nthall tunid for 
 you." 
 
 'i'ho Viwjroy »»at aloncj by the lire, pondering ov<;r all ho luul heard. 
 'J'h<;re wa« ind<'.<;d tluit to ponder over, even in the brief, VH^uit 
 dew;ripti<;n of the wiiter. " 'J'he diHiculticK of Ireland," nn it wa»th<f 
 fawbion of the day to call tbern, were not «uch sin (Jovernment (/orn- 
 nn«Hion!4 discover, or J'due Jiookw deiscribe; they lay doe/Mrr than 
 tl»« j>egii«lative lead-line ever rea«;hei»— njany a fatlxmi down bolow
 
 THE 3L4JBTErS OT CSO* HXRTTSr. 5S3 
 
 statutes and Acts of Parliament. They were in the instincts, tlie 
 natures, the blood of a people wlio liad never acknowledged tbem- 
 selve-s a conquered nation. Perhaps his Excellency lost himself in 
 speculations, may.y and confused enough to addle deeper heads. Per- 
 haps he was puzzled to tiniik how he could bring the Cabinet to see 
 these things, or the importance that pertained to them : wlio knows ? 
 At all ereufcs time glided on, and still he was alone> At length the 
 aide-de-cjimp appeared, and with an air of some confusion stiid, 
 "It would appear, my Lord, that Mr. Xeiligan has gone away." 
 ""WHiy, he never said good night; he didn't take leave of me!" 
 said the Viceroy, smiling. 
 
 The aide-de-camp slightly elevated his brows, as though to imply 
 his sense of what it might not have become him to characterise in 
 words. 
 
 "Very strange indeed!" repeated his Excellency; "isn't it, IJel- 
 courP'" 
 
 " Verv stransre indeed, vour Excellencv," said the other. bowiiiiX. 
 " There could have been no disrespect in it," &iid his Lopdship, 
 good-humouredly ; " of that I'm quite certain, Send Colonel Mas- 
 siugbred here." 
 
 "He's gone off, Massingbred," said the Viceroy, as the other op* 
 pcared. 
 
 " So I have just learned, my I/ord. I conclude he was nok aware 
 
 — that he was unacquainted with " " • - ' > ■■.^■,■■■i -^ . i 
 
 "Oh, of course, Massingbivd," broke in the Viceroy, laughing, 
 " the fault is all with my predecessors in office ; they never invited 
 these men as ihey ougl^t to h;\ve done. Have you sounded M'C.-isky 
 as to the appoint nunit r" 
 
 " Yes. my Lord ; he thinks * we n\ight do •«x>rse.' " 
 "A qualified approxTil, certainly. Perhaps he means we might 
 select himself!" 
 
 " I rather opine, my Lord, tliat he ri\ij;\rds Xelligau'a pronuttiou 
 as likely to give olVenee to Mr. O'Conncll. unless that lie bo himself 
 consulted upon it." 
 
 ** Then comes the question. Who is it governs this country. Colonel 
 Massingbred?" said the ]\Iarquis, and for the first time a flash of 
 angry meaning darkened his cheeks. "If I be here" — he slopped 
 .and hesitated ;-^" if you and I be here only to ratify appointments 
 made by irresponsible individuals — if we hold the reins o( power 
 only to be told wheiv we're to drive to — 1 nnist own the otluv is not 
 very dignilied, nor am 1 patient enough to think it endunible." 
 M'Caskv onlv suggested that it might be advisable to see O'Con-
 
 584 THE -MAHTIKS OV CKO' MAETITT. 
 
 nell on the subject, not, as it were, to pasa bim over in conferring 
 the appointment.' J H^ifiqasf) t'i^sVL * .aoio'i is ■sail)a08nr Y^'^siuohiBq 
 y'"I cannot at all concur in this view, Massingbred," said the 
 Marquis, proudly ; " there could be no such humiliation in the world 
 as a patronage administered in this wise. Write to Nelligan — write 
 to liim to-night : say that liis abrupt departure alone prevented my 
 making to him personally the offer of the Solicitorship ; add, that you 
 have my directions to place the ofilce in his hands, and express a 
 strong wish, on your own part, that he may not decline it." 
 
 Massingbred bowed in acquiescence, and, after a pause, his Excel- 
 lency went on : 
 
 " There would be no objection to your adding something to the 
 effect, that my selection of him was prompted by motives in which 
 party has no share; that' his acknowledged eminence at the Bar — a 
 character to whicb even political opponents bear honourable testi- 
 jnony — in fact, Massingbred," added he, impatiently, " if the ap- 
 pointment sliould come to be questioned in the House, let us have it 
 on record that we made it solely on motives directed to the public 
 service. You understand me ?" 
 
 J 7'*'il think so, my Lord," said Massingbred, and withdrew. i&s 
 
 h If it were not that other cares and other interests call vis away, 
 we would gladly linger a little longer to speculate on the A^iceroy's 
 thoughts as he reseated himself by the fire. His brow was overcast 
 and his features clouded. Was it that he felt he had. entered the 
 lists, and thrown down the glove to a strong and resolute opponent ? 
 Had he before him a vista of the terrible conflict between expediency 
 and honour, that was soon to be his fate ? Had he his doubts as to 
 the support his own Cabinet would afford him ? AYas his Pride the 
 ruling sentiment of the moment, — or did there enter into his calcula- 
 tions the subtle hope of all the eager expectancy this appointment 
 would create, all the disposable venality it would lay. at his discre- 
 tion ? AVho can answer these questions ? who solve these doubts ? 
 Is it not very possible that his mind wandered amidst them all ? Is 
 it not more than likely that they passed in review before liim, for 
 when he rejoined his company .his manner was more absent, his 
 
 courtesy less easy than usual. sanruiV/ /on 
 
 ' I iA.t length Mr. M'Casky camefox'ward to say good night,u..< 77 "' 
 
 " Colonel Massingbred has told you of those disturbances iri the 
 west, has he not ?" asked the Viceroy. 
 " Yes, my Lord," replied the other. 
 " And what opinion — what advice did you give ?" 'il
 
 THE MAJlTIJfS OF CRO' MAETIN. 583. 
 
 " To let matters alone, my Lord ; to be always a little behind time, 
 particularly in sending a force. ' Xever despatch the police to quell a 
 riot,' said John Toler, 'unless one of the factions be completely 
 beaten, otlierwise you'll have them both on your back ;' and I assm-e 
 your Excellency, Ireland has been. ve?y successfully goyetfteii^i^def 
 that maxim for years past." ■..-■■-^r. ..' r,; • ' ; ,-r ' r ' .^ 
 
 " Thank you, M'Casky ; thank you for the advice," said his Excel- 
 lency, laughing, and wished him good night j,j oi aaoiioyi vwl 
 ,u axiiboij ion \&£a ed jjsaJ ^iibcj nv/o aifo';^; no jdeiw gnoiJs 
 ' • z3[ aid ^s^urA[ n jofts: .ba& .SDneoasijjpo^ oi bsirod bairfgaisajjM 
 
 siii oi ;g£iir{d9raoa goibbii 'ix;o'{ ot noidosido oir sd binow siadT " 
 rfDxdw as eftviioxn \d beiqfnoTj sgw mid 'to aoitooloa -^m ^adi .iDs'ftei 
 a — ikS. eili in 90£i9nxai'jP-S-^-P-^-Ej^ J-'^HI^r./fi ; siBrig on gfid X^i^-l 
 
 AN HONO^BED G CE S T. 
 
 -1. It was a time of'tinwsual Itir and bustle at the Martin Arms ; the 
 house was crammed with company. Messengers, some, mounted, 
 others, on foot, came and went at every moment ; horses stood ready 
 saddled and harnessed in the stables, in waiting for any emergency ; 
 in fact, there was a degree of movement and animation only second 
 to that of a contested election. In the midst of this confusion, a 
 chaise with four smoking posters drew up at the door, and a sharp, 
 dear voice called out, bobijoh ss-ajjivJi bu] Lin. 
 
 " Morrissy, are my rooms ready ?" in ^foh a-rro-ids bxrc ,>. - 
 
 "No, indeed, Mr. Eeptou," stammered out the abashed landlord ; 
 " the house is full ; there's not a spot in it to put a child in." 
 
 " You got my letter, I suppose?" said Kepton, angrily. 
 
 " I did. Sir, but it was too late ; the whole house Avas engaged by 
 Mr. Scanlan, and the same evening the company arrived in two 
 coaches-and-four." w 3i. yiiiimyy uiu; uij ih 
 
 " And who is the precious company you speak of?" 
 
 "Mr. Merl, Sir," said tlie other, dropping his voice to a whisper, 
 " the new owner of Cro' Martin ; he's here, with two or three great 
 lawyers and one or two of his friends. They came down to serve the 
 notices and give warning " AxiUb .lo-i 
 
 "Well, what is to be done? where can I be accommodated?" 
 broke in Kepton, hastily. " Isn't Mr. Massingbred in the house ?" 
 
 " No, Sir, he had to move out, too ; but, sure enough, he left a bit 
 of a note for you in the bar." And he hastened off at once to 
 fetch it.
 
 586 THE MAETINS OF CEO MAETIN. 
 
 Hepton broke opeu the seal impatiently, and reud ; 
 
 " My deab Mr. TJepton, 
 " I regret that you'll find the inn full on your arrival ; they turned 
 me out yesterday to make room for Mr. Merl and his followers. 
 Happily, Mr. Nelligan heard of my destitution, and offered me a 
 quarter at his house. He also desires me to say that he will deem it 
 a very great favoiu' if you will accept the shelter of his roof, and in 
 hopeful anticipation of your consenting, he will wait dinner for your 
 arrival. Trom my own knowledge, I can safely assui-e you that the 
 offer is made in a spirit of true hospitality, and I sincerely wish that 
 you may accept it. 
 
 " Tours very faithfully, 
 
 " J. Massikgbbed." 
 
 "Where does Mr. NeUigau live?" asked Eepton, as he re-folded 
 the letter. 
 
 " Just across the street, Sir. There it is." 
 
 "Set me down there, then," said Eepton. And the next moment 
 he was at jSTelHgan's door. 
 
 "This is a very great honour. Sir," said old Dan, as he appeared, 
 in a suit of decorous black. " It is indeed a proud day that gives me 
 the pleasure of seeing you here." 
 
 "My dear Sir, if you had no other distinction than being the 
 father of Joseph IN'elligan, the honour and the pride lie all in the 
 opposite scale. I am sincerely glad to be your guest, and to know 
 you, where every true Irishman is seen to the greatest advantage — 
 at the head of his own board." 
 
 While Nelhgan conducted his guest to his room, he mentioned 
 that Massingbred had ridden over to Cro' Martin early in the morn- 
 ing, but would be certainly back for dinner, "i"" 'irrt ;< 
 
 "And what's the news of Miss Martin ? Is she better ?" 
 
 " They say not, Sir. The last accounts are fal' from favourable." 
 
 "Sir Henry Laurie saw her, didn't he ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; he passed all Sunday here, and only returned to town 
 yesterday. He spoke doubtfully — I might even say, gloomily. He 
 said, however, that we cannot know anything for certain before 
 Friday, or perhaps Saturday." 
 
 "It is fever then?" 
 
 "Tes, he told my wife, the worst character of typhus." 
 
 " Brought on, as I've been told, by exposure to wet and cold on 
 that night at sea. Isn't that the case ?" 
 
 " I believe so. Mrs. NeUigan went over the next morning to the
 
 THE MA.BTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 587 
 
 cottage. She had heard of poor Mr. Martin's death, and thought she 
 might be of some use to Miss Mary ; but when she arrived, it was to 
 find her in fever, talking wildly, and insisting that she must be up 
 and away to Kyle-a-Noe, to look after a poor sick family there." 
 
 " Has Mrs. Kelligan seen her since that ?" 
 
 " She never left her— never quitted her. She relieves Henderson's 
 daughter in watching beside her bed, for the old housekeeper is quite 
 too infirm to bear the fatigue." 
 
 " What a sad change has come over this little spot, and in so brief 
 a space too ! It seems just like yesterday that I was a guest at Cro' 
 Martin, — poor IMnrtin himself so happy and light-hearted ; his dear 
 girl, as he called her, full of life and spirits. Your son Avas there the 
 night I speak of. I remember it well, for the madcap girls would 
 make a fool of me, and insisted on my singing them a song ; and I 
 shall not readily forget the shame my compliance infiicted on my 
 learned brother's fiice." 
 
 " Joe told me of it afterwards." 
 
 " Ah, he told you, did he ? Ho doubtless remarked with asperity 
 on the little sense of my own dignity I possessed ?" 
 
 " On the contrary, Sir, he said, ' Great as are Mr. Repton's gifts, 
 and brilliant as are his acquirements, I envy him more the happy 
 buoyancy of his nature than all his other qualities.' " 
 
 " He's a fine fellow, and it was a generous speech — not but I will 
 be vain enough to say he was right — ay. Sir, perfectly right. Of all 
 the blessings tliat pertain to temperament, there is not one to com- 
 pare with the spii'it that renews in an old man the racy enjoyment of 
 youth, keeps his heart fresh, and his mind hopeful. A¥ith these, age 
 brings no terrors. I shall be seventy-five, Sir, if I live to the second 
 of next month, and I have not lived long enough to dull the enjoy- 
 ment life afi"ords me, nor diminish the pleasure my heart derives upon 
 hearing of a noble action or a generous sentiment." 
 
 Nelligan gazed at the speaker in mingled astonishment and admira- 
 tion. Somehow, it was not altogether the man he had expected, but 
 he was far from being disappointed at the difterence. The Valentine 
 liepton of his imagination was a crafty plea'der, a subtle cross- 
 examiner, an ingenious flatterer of juries ; but he was not a man 
 whose nature was assailable by anything " not found in the books," 
 
 Now, though JN^clligan was himself essentially a worldly man, he 
 was touched by these traits of one whom he had regarded as a 
 hardened old lawyer, distrustful and suspicious. 
 
 " Ay, Sir," said Eepton, as, leaning on the other's arm, he entered 
 the drawing-room — " a wiser man than either of us has left it on
 
 868 TilE MARTINS OF OEO' MAETIN. 
 
 record, that after a long life and much experience of the world, he 
 met far more of good and noble qualities in mankind than of their 
 opposite. Take my word for it, whenever we are inclined to the 
 contrary opinion, the fault lies with ourselves." 
 
 While they sat awaiting Massingbred's return, a servant entered 
 with a note, which Nelligan having read, handed over to Eepton. It 
 was very brief, and ran thus J egrriiflo siii wo'A .sofloiieqza Tssnol 
 nuia uA di ^'^oJ a fcuvv i juLiie bhon edi 'io laqmei ban o ■ o 
 
 ir'« Forgive my not appearing at dinner, and make my excuses to Mr. 
 Eepton, if he be with you, for I have just fallen in with Magennis, 
 who insists on carr}T.ng me off" to Barnagheela. Tou can understand, 
 I'm &ure, that there are reasons why I could not well decline this 
 invitation. Meanwhile, till to-morrow, at breakfast, <i' jjo/ Uixia^ua 
 
 .... — .. ._........ .1. ...,.,„«>.. I .am^ yours, ' "" - • - 
 
 hnr- ,+fT->hTn .-oiiisox <ta9hn+e r; bb ,v / — ! i^" Jack Massingbeed." 
 
 i If there was a little constraint on Nelligan's part at finding him- 
 self alone to do the honours to his distinguished guest, the feeling 
 soon wore away, and a frank, hearty confidence M'as soon established 
 between these two men, wlio, up to the present moment, had been fol- 
 lowing very different roads in life. Apart from a lurking soreness, 
 the remnants of long-past bitterness, Nelligan's political opinions 
 were fair and moderate, and agreed with Eepton's now to a great 
 extent. His views as to the people, their habits and their natures, 
 were also strikingly just and true. He was not over hopeful, nor was 
 he despondent ; too acute an observer to refer their faults to any 
 single source, he regarded their complex, intricate characters as the 
 consequence of many causes, the issue of many struggles. There was 
 about all he said the calm judgment of a man desirous of truth, and 
 yet, when he came to speak of the higher classes, the great country 
 gentry, he displayed prejudices and mistakes quite incredible in one 
 of his discernment. The old grudge of social disqualification had eaten 
 deep into his heart, and, as Repton saw, it would take at least two 
 generations of men well-to-do and successful, to eradicate the senti- 
 ment, ^-^'- t-t^LL^JJi/J ^'!J UJJijqiiJ,. L .o^^.Li:-)i.j ..I, ;i:U 'S' "{ ->'■'' ■ 
 
 Nelligan 'was qtiicfetWbiigh "td-is^e that thefete opioikis ofhiswere 
 not shared by his guest, and said, " I cannot expect, Mr. Eepton, 
 that you will join me in these views ; you have seen these people 
 always as an equal, if not their superior ; they met you with their 
 best faces and sweetest flatteries. Not so with us. They draw a 
 line, as though to say, Go on : make your fortunes — purchase estates
 
 THE MA.ETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 589 
 
 — educate your children — send them to tlie Universities "witli our 
 own — teach.them our ways, our instincts, our manners, and yet, at 
 tlie end of all, you shall remain exactly where you began. You shall 
 never be ' of us.' " '..jvio-zji;,, ,n, /.■ -, ■>, .nuid ydJ jjud; ■; 
 
 "I am happy to say that I disagree with you," said Eeptou ; " I 
 am a much older man thaai you, and I can draw, therefore, on a 
 longer experience. Now the change tliat I myself have seen, come 
 over the tone and temper of the world since I was a boy, is far more 
 marvellous to me than all the new-fangled discoveries around us in 
 steam and electi'icity. Why, sir, the man who now addresses you, 
 born of an ancient stock, as good blood as any untitled gentleman pf 
 the land, was. treated once as . Jftck Cade might be in a Lpndion 
 drawing-room. The repute ;of liberal notions or politics at that day- 
 stamped you as a democrat and atheist. If you sided with a popular 
 measure, you were deemed capable of all the crimes of a ' Dauton.' 
 
 " I>o I not remember it ! — Ay, as a student, young, ardent, and 
 high-hearted, when I was summoned before the visitors of the Uni- 
 versity, and sternly asked by -the dark>browed Lord Chancellor if I 
 belonged to a society called the 'Priends of Ireland,' and on my ac- 
 knowledging the fact, without inquiry — without examination, de- 
 prived of my scholarship, and sent baclv to my chambers, admonished 
 to be more cautious, and menaced with expulsion. I had very little 
 to live on in those days ; my family had sutiered great losses in for- 
 tune, and I disliked to be a burden to them. I took pupils, there- 
 fore, to assist me in my support. The Vice-Provost stejjped in, bow- 
 ever, and interdicted this. 'Touug men,' he said, 'ran a greater 
 chance of coming out of my hands followers of Paine than dis- 
 ciples of Newton.' I starved on till I was called to the Bar. There, 
 fresh insults and mortifications met me. My name on a brief seemed 
 a signal for a field-day against Jacobinism and Infidelity, The very 
 Bench forgot its dignity in its zeal. I remember well one day, when 
 stung and maddened by these outrages, I so far forgot myself as to 
 reply, and the Court of King's Bench was closed against me for 
 twelve long years — ay, till I came back to it as the first man in my 
 profession. It was a trumpery cause — I forget what — a suit about 
 some petty bill of exchange. I disputed the evidence, and sought to 
 show its invalidity ; the Chief Justice stopped me, and said : ' The 
 Court is aware of tlie point on which you rely ; we have known evi- 
 dence of this nature admitted in cases of trial for treason — cases with 
 which Mr, Eepton, we know, is very familiar.' I stopped ; my blood 
 boiled with indignation, my temples throbbed to bursting, to be thus 
 singled out amongst my brethren — before the public — as a mark of
 
 590 THE MABTINS OF CEO' MARTIN. 
 
 scorn and reprobation. ' It is true, my Lord,' said 1, ^ith a slow, 
 measured utterance, ' I am ftimiliar with such eases. Who is there 
 in this unhappy land that is not ! I am aware, too, that if I stood in 
 that dock arraigned on such a charge, your Lordship would rule that 
 this evidence was admissible ; you Avould cliarge agamst me, sen- 
 tence, and hang me ; but the present is an action for eleven pounds 
 ten, and, therefore, I trust to your Lordship's lenity and mercy to 
 reject it.' 
 
 " That reply, Sir, cost me twelve years of exile from the Court 
 wherein I uttered it. Those were times when the browbeating Judge 
 could crush the Bar ; nor were the Jury always safe in the sanctuary 
 of the jury-box, Now, such abuses are no longer in existence, and if 
 we have made no other stride in progress, even that is considerable." 
 
 " In all that regards the Law and its administration, I am sure you 
 are correct. Sir," said Nelligan, submissively. 
 
 '• At the period I speak of," resumed Eepton, who now was only 
 following out his own thoughts and reminiscences, " the Judges were 
 little else than Prefects, administering the country through the 
 channel of the penal code, and the Jury a set of vulgar partisans, 
 who wielded the power of a verdict with all the caprice of a faction ; 
 and as to tlieir ignorance, why. Sir, Crookshank, wlio afterwards sat 
 on the Bench, used to tell of a trial for murder at Kells, where the 
 ' murdered man' was two hours under cross-examination on the table ! 
 Tes, but that is not all ; the Jury retired to deliberate, and came out 
 at length with a verdict of ' Manslaughter,' as the prisoner was 'a bad 
 fellow, and had once stolen a saddle from the foreman.' Ton talk of 
 law and civilisation, why, I tell you, Sir, that the barbaric code of the 
 Eed Man is a higher agent of enlightenment than the boasted institu- 
 tions of England, when thus perverted and degraded. ]N"o, no, Mr. 
 Nelligan, it may be a fine theme for declamation, there may be grand 
 descriptive capabilities about the Ireland of sixty or seventy years 
 ago, but be assured, it was a social chaos of the worst kind ; and as a 
 maxim, Sir, remember, that the inhabitants of a country are never so 
 mixcli to be pitied as when the aspect of their social condition is 
 picturesque!" 
 
 Eepton fell into a musing fit when he had finished these observa- 
 tions, and Nelligan felt too much deference for his guest to disturb 
 him, and they sat thus silent for some time, when the old Lawyer 
 suddenly arousing himself, said, 
 
 "What's all this I hear about disturbances, and attacks on the 
 police, down here?" 
 
 " There's nothing political in it," rejoined Nelligan. " It was
 
 !■(,= 
 
 ''"/^.KV"^'
 
 THE MAETINS OF CRO' ilAHTIN. 591 
 
 resistance offered by the people, to the service of certain notices on 
 the part of this London Jew, — Merl, I think they call him." 
 
 "Yes, that's the name," quickly responded Eepton. "You are 
 aware of the circumstances iinder which he claims the estate ?" 
 
 " I had it from Brierley, who was told by Scanlan that he pur- 
 chased, or rather won at play, the entire and sole reversion." 
 
 Kepton nodded. 
 
 " And such is a legal compact, I presume ?" said Nelligan. 
 
 " If the immoral obligation be well concealed in the negotiation, I 
 don't see how it is to be broken. " The law^ Sir," added he, solemnly, 
 " never undertakes the charge of fools till a commission be taken out 
 in their behalf! This young fellow's pleasure it was to squander his 
 succession to a princely estate, and he chanced to meet with one who 
 coidd appreciate his intentions." 
 
 " Massingbred told me, however, that some arrangement, some 
 compromise was in contemplation ; that Merl, knowing that to en- 
 force his claim woidd subject him to a trial and all its disclosures, 
 had shown a disposition to treat ; in fact, Massingbred has already 
 had an interview with him, and but for Scanlan, who desires to push 
 matters to extremity, the affair might possibly be accommodated." 
 
 " The Jew possibly sees, too, that an Irish succession is not a 
 bloodless triumpli. He has been fi'ightened, I have no doubt." 
 
 " I believe so ; they say he took to his bed the day he got back 
 here, and has never quitted it since. The people hunted them for 
 four miles across the country, and as Merl couldn't leap his horse 
 over the walls, they were several times nearly caught by the delay in 
 making gaps for him." 
 
 "I'd have given fifty pounds to be in at it," broke out Hepton. 
 Then suddenly remembering that the aspiration did not sound as very 
 dignified, he hemmed and corrected himself, saying, " It must, indeed, 
 liave been a strange spectacle !" 
 
 " They started at Kyle's Wood, and ran them over the low grounds 
 beside Kelly's Mills, and then doubling, brought them along the foot 
 of Barnagheela mountain, where, it seems, Magennis joined the chase ; 
 lie was fast closing with them when his gun burst, and rather damaged 
 his hand." 
 
 "He fired, then?" 
 
 "Yes, he put a heavy charge of slugs into Merl's horse as he was 
 getting through the mill-race, and the beast flung up and threw his 
 rider into the stream. Scanlan dismounted and gathered him up, 
 discharging his pistol at some country fellow who was rushing for- 
 ward ; they say the man has lost an eye. They got off, however, and
 
 592 ,THE MAETINS OF CUO' MAKTIN. 
 
 gaining tlie shelter of tlie Cro' Martiu wood, tlicy managed to escape 
 p,t last, and reached this about six o'clock, their clothes in tatters, 
 their horses lamed, and themselves lamentable objects of fatigue and 
 exhaustion. Since that, no one but the doctor has seen Marl, and 
 Scanlan only goes out with an escort of police." 
 
 "All this sounds very like ' sixty years ago,' " said Eepton, laughing. 
 " I'm afraid it does, and I half dread what the English newspapers 
 may say under the heading of ' Galway Barbarities.' " 
 
 " By Jove ! I must say I like it ; that is," said Eepton, hesitatiug 
 and confused, " I can see some palliation for the people in such an 
 outburst of generous but misdirected feeling. The old name has still 
 its spell for their hearts ; and even superstitions. Sir, are better than 
 incredulity!" ^ 
 
 " But of what avail is all this ? The law must and will be vindicated, 
 ,rlt may cost some lives, on the road, but Mr. Merl must reach his 
 journey's end, at last." 
 
 . " He may deem the sport, as I have known some men do 
 tiger-hunting, not worth the danger," said Eepton. "You and I, 
 Mr. Nelligan, acclimated, as I may say, to such incidents, would 
 probably not decline the title to an estate, whose first step in posses- 
 sion should be enforced by the blunderbuss ; but make the scene 
 Africa, and say what extent of territory would you accept of, on the 
 compact of enforciug your claim against the natives ? Now, for all 
 the purposes of argument, to this Cockney's appreciation, these 
 countrymen of ours are AJi-icans." 
 
 "lean well understand his terror," said Nelligan, thoughtfully. 
 
 ,*' I'm sure the yell that followed him tlirough the gap of Kyle-a-Noe 
 
 will ring in his heart for many a day. It was there the pursuit was 
 
 hottest. As they came out, a stranger, who had been here during 
 
 the winter — a Mr. Barry " 
 
 ,. f "What of Jiim ? "What did lie do ?" broke in Eepton, with great 
 .eagerness. 
 
 " He stood upon an old wall, and hurrahed the people on, calling 
 put, ' rive gold guineas to the man who will hurl that fellow into 
 "'the lake.' " 
 
 . "He said that?" cried Eepton. 
 
 " Yes, and waved his hat in encouragement to the mob ! This was 
 deposed in evidence before the Bench, and Scanlan' s affidavit went 
 on to say, that when the temper of the people seemed to relent, and 
 the ardour of their pursuit to relax, this man's presence invariably 
 rallied all the energies of mischief, and excited the wildest passions 
 of the populace." 
 
 " "Who or what is he supposed to be ?" asked the Lawyer.
 
 ''-ilcE' if AETiif s' of Clio' -m artin. ^ 593 
 
 " Some say, a returrled convict^ — a banker that was transported 
 • tliirty years ago for forgery ; others, that he is Con O'Hara, tliat 
 ■* killed Major Stackpoole in the famous duel at Bunratty Castle. 
 ^ ' Magennis swears that he remembers the face well ; at all events 
 there is a mystery about him, and when he came into the shop 
 • ; below stturs^r^^^'-'- ' '-^ ^"^^'^ ^ -l---- ^^'^ <^"' ^ua^io^ cuu 
 '■ "Oh, thei3,youhave'seenMmyours(Sf?''^ ".^^Jt Ljiivi" 
 
 " Tes ; he came in on Monday last and asked foi* soiHe glazed gun- 
 <- powder, and if we had bullets of a large mould to fit his pistols. 
 ^'They were curiosities in their ■vsray; they were made in America, and 
 ^^ had a bore large as your thumb. "^^^^^^^'^ ''^'^ 2^? ^^^' , " -' 
 
 iii;u_«c You had some conversation witli tim?'* *' ' 'us"^^^^'^Y',"i' ^^f 
 "A few words about the country and the crops. He''^ai'(f 'he 
 thought Ave had good prospects for tlie wheat, and, if we should liave 
 ^' a fine harvest, a good winter was like to follow. Meaning tliat, with 
 enough to eat, we should have fewer outrages in the dark nights, and 
 ^t)y that I knew he' Was one acquainted with the country. I said as 
 much, and then, he turned fiercely on me, and remarked, 'I never 
 questioned you, Sir, about your hides, and tallow, and tenpenny nails, 
 for they were yowr affairs ; please, then, to pay the same deference to 
 ?we and to mine.'' And before I could reply he was gone.'*" '"^^ ' '' ' 
 '" "It was a rude speech," said Eepton, thoughtfully; "but many 
 ■^ men are morose from circumstances, whose natures are full of kind- 
 '^' liness and gentleness." 
 
 " It was precisely tlie impression tliis stranger made upon me. 
 
 There was that in his manner wliich implied a hard lot in life — no 
 
 small share of the shadiest side of fortune ; and even when his some- 
 
 ' what coarse rebuke was uttered, I was more disposed to be angry with 
 
 ':' myself for being the cause, than with him who made it." 
 
 " "Where is lie stopping just now ?" 
 
 " At Kilkieran, I have heard ; but he has been repeatedly back 
 
 and forward in the town here during the week, though for the last 
 
 r few days I have not seen him. Perhaps he has heard of Scanlan's 
 
 intention to summons him for aiding and abetting an assault, and has 
 
 kept out of the way in consequence." 
 
 " He keep out of the way !" cried Eepton ; " you never mistook a 
 man more in your life !" 
 
 " Toil are acquainted with him, then ?" said j^elligan, in amaze- 
 "' ment. 
 
 " That am T, Sir. jSTo one knoAvs him better, and on my knoAvlcdgo 
 of the man it was that I apologised for his incivility to yourself. If 
 I cannot say more, Mr. !Nelligan, it is not because I have any mis-
 
 594 TELE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIJS"..,, 
 
 trust in your confidence, but that my friend's secret is in his own 
 charge, and only to be revealed at his own pleasure." 
 
 " I wish you would tell him that I never meant to play the spy 
 upon him — that my remark was a merely chance observation " 
 
 "I promise you to do so," broke in Eepton. "I promise you still 
 more, that before lie leaves this you shall have an apology from his 
 own lips for his accidental rudeness ; nay ! two men that would know 
 how to respect each other should never part under even a passing 
 misunderstanding. It is an old theory of mine, Mr. NeUigan, that 
 good men's good opinions of us form the pleasantest store of our re- 
 miniscences, and I'd willingly go a hundred miles to remove a miscon- 
 ception that might bring me back to the esteem of an honourable 
 heart, though I never were to set eyes again on him who pos- 
 sessed it." 
 
 "I like your theory well, Sir," said ISTelligan, cordially. 
 
 "You'll find the practice will reward you," said Eepton. 
 
 " I confess this stranger has inspired me with great curiosity." 
 
 " I can well understand the feeling," said Repton, musing. " It is 
 with men as with certain spots in landscape, there are chance glimpses 
 which suggest to us the fair scenes that lie beyond our view ! Poor 
 fellow! poor fellow!" muttered he once or twice to himself; and 
 then starting abruptly, said, "Tou have made me so cordially wel- 
 come here, that I am going to profit by every privilege of a guest. 
 I'm going to say good night, for I have much before me on the 
 
 morrow." 
 
 CHAPTEE LXIV. 
 
 HOW DIPLOMACY FAILED. 
 
 Eepton was up at daybreak, and at his desk. Immense folios 
 littered the table, and even the floor around him, and the old Lawyer 
 sat amidst a chaos that it was difficult to believe was only the growth 
 of an hour or two. All the intentness of his occupation, however, did 
 not prevent him hearing a well-known voice in the little stable-yard 
 beneath his window, and opening the sash he called out, " Massing- 
 bred, is that you?" 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Eepton, are you stirring so early ? I had not expected 
 to see you for at least two hours to come. May I join you ?"
 
 THE IMAETINS OF CBO' MAETITT, 595 
 
 " By all means ; at once," was the answer. And the next moment 
 they were together. "Where's Barry? AVhen did you see him 
 last?" was Eeptou's first question. 
 
 " For a moment, on Tuesday last ; he came up here to learn if you 
 liad arrived, or when you might be expected. He seemed disap- 
 pointed when I said not before the latter end of the week, and mut- 
 tered something about being too late. He seemed flurried and 
 excited. I heard afterwards that he had been somehow mixed up 
 with that tumultuous assemblage that resisted the police, and I 
 oflered to go back with him to Kilkieran, but he stopped me short, 
 saying, ' I am not at Kilkieran ;' and so abruptly, as to show that 
 my proposal was not acceptable. He then sat down and wrote a 
 short letter, which he desired me to give you on arriving ; but to 
 deliver it with my own baud, as, if any reply were necessary, I should 
 be ready to carry it to him. This is the letter." 
 
 Eepton read it rapidly, and then walking to the window stood 
 pondering over the contents. 
 
 "You know this man Merl, don't you, Massingbred ?" asked 
 Eepton. 
 
 "Tes, thoroughly." 
 
 " The object of this letter is to try one last chance for an arrange- 
 ment. Barry suspects that the Jew's ambition for Irish proprietor- 
 ship may have been somewhat dashed by the experience of the last 
 few days ; that he will be likely enough to weigh the advantages and 
 disadvantages with a juster appreciation, than if he had never come 
 here ; and, if such be the case, wc are ready to meet him with a fair 
 and equitable offer. "We'll repay him all that he advanced in cash to 
 young Martin, and all that he won from him at play, if he surrender 
 his reversionary claim. We'll ask no questions as to how this loan 
 was made, or how that debt incurred. It shall be the briefest of all 
 transactions ; a sum in simple addition, and a cheque for the total." 
 
 "He'll refuse — flatly refuse it," said Massingbred. "The very 
 offer will restore any confidence the last few days may have shaken ; 
 lie'U judge the matter like the shares of a stock that are quoted 
 higher in the market," 
 
 " You think so ?" 
 
 " I'm sure of it. I'm ashamed to say, Mr. Repton, that my know- 
 ledge of the Herman Merl class may be greater than yours. It is tlie 
 one solitary point in the realm of information wherein I am probably 
 your superior." 
 
 " There are others, and of a very different order, in which I would 
 own you the master," said Eepton. " But to our case. Suppose — 
 
 2 q2
 
 VAT3AU 'oho ^iO 8VIITirAK 2 III' 
 596 THE MAETINS OF ORO' MAETIN. 
 
 a mere supposition if you like — but suppose that it could be demon- 
 strated to Mr. Mcrl that his claim will be not only resisted, but 
 defeated ; that the right on which he relies is valueless — the deed 
 not worth the stamps it bears ; that this ofter is made to avoid a 
 publicity and exposure, far moi'e injurious to him than to those who 
 now shrink from it. IVhat think you then ?" 
 
 " Simply that he'd not believe it ! He'd say, and many others 
 Avould say, ' If the right lay so incontcstably with these others, they'd 
 not give some twenty thousand pounds to compromise what they 
 could enforce for the mere cost of a trial.' " 
 
 " Mr. Massingbred, too, would perhaps take the same view of the 
 transaction," said E-epton, half tartly. 
 
 ■jxi"Not if Mx\ Eepton assured me that he backed the opposite 
 opinion," said Jack, politely. 
 
 " I thank you heartily for that speech," said the old man, as he 
 grasped the other's hand cordially ; " you deserve, and shall have my 
 fullest confidence." 
 
 " May I ask," said Jack, " if this oifer to buy oiF Merl be made in 
 the interest of the Martins, for otherwise I really see no great object, 
 so far as they are concerned, in the change of mastery ?" 
 -17 "You'll have to take mi/ word for that," said Eepton, "or rather, 
 to take the part I assume in this transaction as the evidence of it ; 
 and now, as I see that you are satisfied, will you accept of the duty 
 of this negotiation ? Will you see and speak with Merl ? Urge 
 upon him all the arguments your own ingenuity will furnish, and when 
 you come, if you should be so driven, to the coercive category, and 
 that you want the siege artillery, then send for me. Depend upon it, 
 it will be no ' brutum fulmen' that I'll bring up; nor will I, as 
 Pelham said, fire with ' Government powder.' My cannon shall be 
 inscribed, like those of the old volunteers. Independence or' " 
 
 At any other moment Jack might have smiled at the haughty air 
 and martial stride of the old mau, as, stimulated by his words, he 
 paced the room ; but there was a sincerity and a resolution about 
 him that oflered no scope for ridicule. His very features wore a look 
 of intrepidity that bespoke the courage that animated him. 
 
 " JSfow, Massingbred," said he, laying his hand on the young man's 
 arm, ;" it is only because I am not free to tell another man's secret 
 that I do not at once place you fully in possession of all I myself 
 know of this transaction ; but rely on it, you shall be informed on 
 every point, and immediately after the issue of this negotiation with 
 Merl, whatever be the result, you shall stand on the same footing 
 with myself."
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 597 
 
 " You cannot suppose that I exact this confidence ?" began Jack. 
 ~^^'"X only know it is your due, Sir," said Eepton. '* Gro now — it is 
 not too early ; see this man. and let the meeting be of the briefest, 
 for if I were to tell you ray own mind, I'd say I'd rather he should 
 reject our offer." 
 
 " Ton are, I own, a little incomprehensible this morning," said 
 Massingbred, " but I am determined to yield you a blind obedience ; 
 and so I'm off." '^<i ^on irdd i^di jiqiui^ 
 
 *' I'll wait breakfast for you," said Eepton, as he reseated himself 
 to his work, "i ' 
 
 Eepton requested Mr. Nelligati'^ permission to have his breakfast 
 served in his own room, and sat for a long time impatiently awaiting 
 Massingbred's return. He was at one time aroused by a noise below 
 stairs, but it was not the announcement of him he looked for ; and he 
 walked anxiously to and fro in his chamber, each moment adding to 
 the uneasiness that he felt. 
 
 "Who was it that arrived half an hour ago ?" asked he of the 
 servant. o-.rT^rinffo.> ;i^..ff(,"t 
 
 " Mr. Joe, Sir, the Counsellor, has just come from Dublin, and is 
 at breakfast with the Master.'^'' ■^^^^;-^^ lui ,aixiTii;Ji ^dJ io-iaaiyjiu oiij 
 
 " Ah ! he's come, is he ? So much the better," muttered Eepton, 
 "we may want his calm, clear head to assist us here; not that we 
 shall have to fear a contest — there is no enemy in the field — and if 
 there were, Yal Eepton is ready to meet him!" And the old man 
 crossed his arms, and stood erect, in all the consciousness of his un- 
 diminislied vigour. " Here he comes at last — I know his step on the 
 stair." And he flung open the door for Massingbred. 
 
 " I read failure in your flushed cheek, Massingbred ; failure and 
 anger both, eh ?" 
 
 Massingbred tried to smile. If there was any quality on which he 
 especially prided liimself, it was the bland semblance of equanimity 
 lie could assume in circumstances of difficulty and irritation. It was 
 l.is boast to be able to hide his most intense emotions at moments of 
 passion, and there was a period in which, indeed, he wielded tliis ac- 
 quirement. Of later times, however, he had grown more natural 
 and impulsive ; he cared less to exercise the self-control we speak of. 
 At the same time, he had not yet lost the sense of pain this yielding 
 occasioned, and it was with evident irritation that he found Eepton 
 had read his tlioughts. 
 
 "You perceive, then, that I am unsuccessful?" said lie, witli a 
 faint smile. " So much the better if my face betrays me ; it will 
 save a world of explanation !"
 
 59S THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 "Make your report, Sir, and I'll make the tea," said Eepton, as 
 he proceeded to that office. 
 
 " The fellow was in bed — he refused to see me, and it was only 
 by some insistance tliat I succeeded in gaining admittance. He has 
 had leeches to his temples. He was bruised, it seems, when he fell, 
 but far more frightened than hurt. He looks the very picture of 
 terror, and lies with a perfect armoury of pistols beside his bed. 
 Scanlan was there, and thought to remain during our interview, but 
 I insisted on his withdrawing, and he went. The amiable attorney, 
 somehow, has a kind of respect for me that is rather amusing. As 
 for Merl, he broke out into a vulgar tirade of passion, abused the 
 country and the people, cursed the hour he came amongst them, and 
 said, if he only knew the nature of the property before he made his 
 investment, he'd rather have purchased Guatemala bonds, or Santa 
 !Fe securities. 
 
 " ' Then I liave come fortunately,' said I, ' for I bring you an offer 
 to reimburse all your outlay, and rid you of a charge so little to your 
 inclination.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! you do, do you ?' said he, with one of his cunningest leers. 
 ' You may not be able, perhaps, to effect that bargain, though. It's 
 one thing to pay down a smart sum of money and wait your time for 
 recovering it, and it's another to surrender your compact when', the 
 hour of acquisition has arrived. I bought this reversion — at least, I 
 paid the first instalment of the price — -four years ago, when the late 
 man's life was worth twenty years' purchase. Well, he's gone now, 
 and do you think that I'm going to give up my claim, for what it cost 
 me?' 
 
 " I gently insinuated that the investigation of the claim might 
 lead to unpleasant revelations. There were various incidents of the 
 play-table, feasible and successful enough after a supper with cham- 
 pagne, and in the short Iiours before day, which came off with an ill- 
 grace on the table of a Court of Justice, with three Barons of the 
 Exchequer to witness them. That I myself might prove an awkward 
 evidence, if unhappily cited to appear ; that of my own knowledge I 
 could mention three young fellows of good fortune who had been 
 drained to their last shilling in his company. In fact, we Avere both 
 remarkably candid with each other, and while I reminded Jiim of 
 some dark passages at ecarte, 7/e brought to mi/ memory certain pro- 
 tested bills and dishonoured notes that ' non jucundum esset me- 
 minisse.' I must say, for both of us, we did the thing well, and in 
 good breeding ; we told and listened to our several shortcomings 
 with a temper that might have graced a better cause, and I defy the 
 world to produce two men who could have exchanged the epithets of
 
 THE MARTINS OF GBO' MAETIN, 599 
 
 Swindler and Scamp with more tliorough calm and good manners. 
 Unhappily, however, high as one rises in his own esteem by such 
 contests, he scarcely makes the same ascent in that of his neighbour, 
 and so we came, in our overflowing frankness, to admit to each other 
 more of our respective opinions than amounts to flattery. I believe, 
 and, indeed, I liope, I should have maintained my temper to the end, 
 had not the fellow pretty broadly insinuated that some motive of 
 personal advantage bad prompted my interference, and actually 
 pushed his insolence so far as to insinuate that ' I should make a 
 better thing' by adhering to his fortunes." 
 
 Eepton started at these w ords, and Massingbred resumed : " True, 
 upon my honour ; I exaggerate nothing. It was a gross outrage, 
 and very difficult to put up with, so I just expressed my sincere 
 regret, that instead of being in bed he was not up and stirring, inas- 
 much as I should have tried what change of air might have done for 
 him, by pitching him out of the wdndow. He tugged violently at the 
 bell-rope, as though I were about to execute my menace, and so, I left 
 him. My diplomacy lias, therefore, been a sad failure. I only hope 
 that I may not have increased the difficulty of the case by my treat- 
 ment of it." 
 
 " Tou never thought of me at all, then ?" asked Eepton. 
 
 " Never, till I was once more in the street ; then, I remembered 
 something of what you said about coercive means. But of what avail 
 fi a mere menace ? This fellow is not new to such transactions — he has 
 gone through all the phases of ' buUeydom.' Besides, there is a dash 
 of Shylock in every Jew that ever breathed. They will ' have their 
 bond,' unless it can be distinctly proved to them that the thing is 
 impossible," 
 
 " Now then for our breaching battery," said Eepton, rising and 
 pacing the room. " This attempt at a compromise never had any 
 favour in my eyes ; Barry wished it, and I yielded. Now, for a very 
 different course. Can you find a saddle-horse here ? "Well, then, be 
 ready to set out in half an hour, and search out Barry for me. He'll 
 be found at Kilkicran, or the neighbourhood : say we must meet at 
 once ; arrange time and place for the conference, and come back to 
 
 me." 
 
 Eepton issued his directions with an air of command, and Mas- 
 singbred prepared as implicitly to obey them. 
 
 "Mr. Nelligan lius lent me his own pad," said Massingbred, enter- 
 ing soon after, " and his son will accompany me, so that I am at 
 your orders at once." 
 
 "Therie are your despatches," said Eepton, giving him a sealed 
 packet. " Let me see you here as soon as may be."
 
 600 „ THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXV 
 
 A GREAT DISCOVERY. 
 
 About an hour after Massingb red's departure for Kilkleran, Mr. 
 Eepton set out for Cro' Martin Castle. The inn had furnished 
 him its best chaise and four of its primest horses ; and had the old 
 Lawyer been disposed to enjoy the pleasui'e which a great moralist 
 has rated so highly, of rapid motion through the air, he might have 
 been gratified on that occasion. Unhappily, however, he was not so 
 minded. Many and very serious cares pressed upon him. He was i 
 travelling a road, too, which he had so often journeyed in high spirits, 
 fancying to himself the pleasant welcome before liim, and even re- ' 
 hearsing to his own mind the stores of agreeability he was to dis2)lay 
 — and now, it was to a deserted mansion, lonely and desolate, he was 
 tiu-ning ! Death and ruin both had done their work on that ancient 
 family, whose very name in the land seemed already hastening to 
 oblivion ! 
 
 Pew men could resist the influence of depression better than 
 Eepton. It was not alone that his temperaiuent was still buoyant 
 and energetic, but the habits of his profession had taught him the 
 necessity of being ever prepared for emergencies, and he would have 
 felt it a dereliction of duty were his sentiments to overmaster his 
 'power of action. 
 
 Still, as he went along, the well-known features of the spot would 
 recall memories of the past. There, lay a dense wood, of which he re- 
 membered the very day, the very hour, poor Martin had commenced 
 the planting. There, was the little trout-stream, where, under pre- 
 tence of fishing, he had lounged along tlie summer day, with Horace 
 for his companion ; that, the school-house Mary had sketched, and 
 built out of her own pocket-money. And now the great massive gates 
 slowly opened, and they were within the demesne, — all silent and 
 noiseless. As they came in sight of the Castle, Eepton covered his 
 face with his hands, and sat for some minutes thus. Then, as if 
 mastering his emotion, he raised his head and folded his arms on his 
 chest. 
 
 "You are true to time, I perceive, Dr. Leslie," said he, as the 
 chaise stopped at the door, and the venerable clergyman came for- 
 ward to greet him.
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIlSr. 601 
 
 " I got your note late last night, Sir, but I determined not to keep 
 YOU waiting, for I perceive you say that time is precious now." 
 
 " I thank you heartily," said Eepton, as he shook the other's 
 hand. " I am grateful to you also for being here to meet me, for I 
 begin to feel my courage fail me as to crossing that threshold 
 again!" r^aa 
 
 "Age has its penalties as well as its blessings, Sir," said Leslie, 
 
 "and amongst these, is to outlive those dear to us!" There Avas a .^ 
 
 . . . . "i/i 
 
 painful significance to his own desolate condition that made these r 
 
 words doubly impressive. j 
 
 Eepton made no reply, but pulled the bell strongly, and the loud,. ' r 
 deep sounds rung out clearly through the silent house. After a brief \ 
 interval, a small window above the door was opened, and a man with 
 a blunderbuss in his hand sternly demanded their business. _ , 
 
 '' Oh, I ax pardon, Sir," said he, as suddenly correcting himself." ^ 
 "I thought it was that man that's come to take the place — 'the 
 Jew,' they call him — and Mr. Magennis said I wasn't to let him in, 
 or one belonging to him." 
 
 "No, Barney, we are not his friends," said Dr. Leslie ; "this is ., 
 Mr. Eepton." 'f^f; 
 
 "Sure I know the Counsellor well, Sir," said Barney. " I'U be- 
 down in a minute and open the door." ''" ^^'' '" ^' ' [-r 
 
 " I must go to work at once," said Eepton, in a low and somewhat 
 broken voice, " or this place will be too much for me. Tlvery step I 
 go is calling up old times and old scenes. I had thought my heart 
 Avas of sterner stuff. Isn't this the way to the library ? 'No, not that 
 way — that was poor Martin's own breakfast-room!" He spoke 
 hurriedly, like one who wished to suppress emotion by very activity 
 of thought. 
 
 AVhile the man who conducted them opened tlic window-shutters 
 and the windows, Eepton and his companion sat down without speak- 
 ing. At last he withdrew, and Eepton, rising, said, 
 
 "Some of the happiest hours of my life were passed in this very ■ r 
 room. I used to come up hero after the fatigues of circuit, and, 
 throwing myself into one of these easy-chairs, dream away for a day 
 or two, gazing out on that bold mountain yonder, above the trees, and 
 wondering how those fellows who never relaxed, in this wise, could 
 sustain the wear and tear of life ; for, that junketting to Harrowgate 
 — that rattling, noisy steam-boating up the Ehine — that Cockney 
 heroism of Swiss travel, is my aversion. The calm forenoon for 
 thought, tlie pleasant dinner-table for genial enjoyment, afterwards — 
 these are true recreations. And what evenings we have had here ! 
 
 aofi"'
 
 8GG2 THE MARTINS OP CKO' MAKTIN. 
 
 . But I must not dwell ou these." And now lie tlirew upon the table 
 fa mass of papers and letters, amongst which he sought out one, from 
 \ which he took a small key. " Dr. Leslie," said he, "you might have 
 been assured that I have not called upon you to meet me to-day with- 
 out a s\ifficient reason. I know that, from certain causes, of wliich I 
 am not well informed, you were not on terms of much intimacy with 
 my poor friend here. This is not a time to think of these things ; 
 you, I am well assured, will never remember them." 
 
 Leslie made a motion of assent, and the other went on, his voice 
 , gradually gaining in strength and fulness, and his whole manner by 
 degrees assuming the characteristic of the Lawyer. 
 
 " To the few questions to which I will ask your answ^ers, now, I have 
 to request all your attention. They are of great importance ; they 
 may, very probably, be re-asked of you under more solemn circum- 
 stances ; and I have to bespeak, not alone, aU your accuracy for the 
 replies, but that you may be able, if asked, to state the manner and 
 even the words in which I now address you. — Tou have been the 
 incumbent of this parish for a length of time — What number of 
 years?" 
 
 " Sixty-three. I was appointed to the vicarage on my ordination, 
 -and never held any other charge." 
 
 " Tou knew the late Darcy Martin, father of the last proprietor of 
 this estate?" 
 
 "Intimately." 
 
 " Tou baptised his two children, born at the same birth. State 
 what you remember of the circumstance." 
 
 " I was sent for to the Castle to give a private baptism to the two 
 infants, and requesting that I would bring the vestry-book along wdth 
 me for the registration. I did so. The children were accordingly 
 christened, and their births duly registered and witnessed." 
 
 " Can you remember the names by which they were called ?" 
 
 " Not from the incident in question, though I know the names 
 from subsequent knowledge of them, as they grew up to manhood." 
 
 " What means, if any, were adopted at the time to distinguish the 
 priority of birth ?" 
 
 " The eldest was first baptised, and his birth specially entered in 
 the vestry-book as such ; all the witnesses who signed the entry 
 corroborating the fact by special mention of it under their signature. 
 We also heard that the child wore a gold bracelet on one arm ; but 
 I did not remark it." 
 
 " Tou have this vestry-book in your keeping ?" 
 
 " No ; Mr. Martin retained it, with some object of more formal
 
 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 603 
 
 • registration. I repeatedly asked for it, but never could obtain it. 
 At length some coolness grew up between us, and I could not, or did 
 not wish to press my demand, and at last it lapsed entirely from my 
 memory, so that from that day I never saw it." 
 
 " Tou could, however, recognise it, and be able to verify your sig- 
 natiu'e?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " "Was there, so far as you could see, any marked distinction made 
 between the children while yet young ?" 
 
 " I can remember, that at the age of three or four, the eldest boy 
 wore a piece of red or blue ribbon on his sleeve ; but any other mark 
 I never observed. They were treated, so far as I could perceive, pre- 
 cisely alike ; and their resemblance to each other was then so striking, 
 it would liave been a matter of great nicety to distinguish them. 
 Even at school, I am told, mistakes constantly occurred, and one boy 
 once received the punishment incurred by the other." 
 
 "As tbey grew up, you came to recognise the eldest by his 
 name ?" 
 
 " Yes. Old Mr. Darcy Martin used to take the elder boy more 
 about vrith him. He was then a child of ten or eleven years old. 
 He was particular in calling attention to him, saying, ' This fellow is 
 to be my heir; he'll be the Martin of Cro' Martin yet.' " 
 
 "And what name did the boy bear?" 
 
 " Godfrey — Godfrey Martin. The second boy's name was Barry." 
 
 " Tou are sure of this ?" 
 
 " Quite sure. I have dined a number of times at the Castle, when 
 Godfrey was called in after dinner, and the other boy was generally in 
 disgrace ; and I could remark that his father spoke of him in a tone 
 of irritation and bitterness, which he did not employ towards the 
 other." 
 
 " Mr. Martin died before his sons came of age ?" 
 
 " Yes ; they were only nineteen at his death." l 
 
 " He made a will, I believe, to which you were a witness ?" 
 
 " I was ; but somehow the will was lost or mislaid, and it was only 
 by a letter to the Honourable Colonel iorbes, of Lisvally, that 
 jMartin's intentions about appointing Mm Guardian to his elder boy 
 were ascertained. I myself was named Guardian to the second son, 
 an office of which he soon relieved me by going abroad, and never 
 returning for a number of years." 
 
 " Godfrey Martin then succeeded to the estate in due course ?" 
 
 " Yes, and we were very intimate for a time, till after his marriage,
 
 60i TiiE MABTINIB OJF CEO' MAETIN. 
 
 when estrangement grew up betw^n.,]is,,^4. ^^ ^^^ ^^'"^ ceased to 
 visit at all." ' ' n r. . r, :, ■,:., 
 
 "Were the brothers supposed to be on good terms with each 
 other?" 
 
 " I have lieard two opposite versions on tliat Bubject. My own 
 impression was that Lady Dorothea disliked Barry IMartin, who had 
 made a marriage that was considered beneath him, and then his 
 brother was, from easiness of disposition, gradually weaned of his old 
 afiection for laiiu. Many thought Barry, with all his faults, the 
 better-hearted of the two." 
 
 " Can you tell what idtimately became of this Barry IMartin?" 
 
 " I only know, from common report, that after the death of his 
 wife, having given his iulaut child, a girl, in charge to his brother, he 
 engaged in the service of some of the Southern American E-epublics, 
 and is supposed yet to be living there, some say in great affluence, 
 others, that he is utterly ruined by a failure in a mining speculation. 
 The last time I ever heard Godfrey speak of him was in terms of 
 sincere afFectiou, adding the words, ' Poor Barry will befriend every 
 one but himself.' " .-r,-,.-, 7- 
 
 " So that he never returned ?" 
 
 " I believe not ; at least I never heard of it." 
 
 " I have written down these questions and your answers to them," 
 said Repton, " will you read them over, and if you find them correct, 
 append your signature. I am expecting Mr. Nelligan here, and I'll 
 go and see if there be any sign of his arrival." 
 
 Eepton just reached the door as Mr. Nelligan drove up to it. 
 
 " All goes on well and promptly to-day," said the old Lawyer. "I 
 have got through a good deal of business already, and I expect to do 
 as much more ere evening sets in. I have asked you to be present, 
 as a Magistrate, while I examine the contents of a certain closet in 
 this house. I am led to believe that very important documents are 
 deposited there, and it is in your presence, and that of Mr. Leslie, I 
 purpose to make the inquiry. Before I do so, however, I will entreat 
 yoiu* attention to a number of questions, and the answ^ers to them, 
 which will be read out to you. You will then be in a better posi- 
 tion to judge of any discovery which the present investigation may 
 reveal. All this sounds enigmatically enough, Mr. Nelligan, but you 
 will extend your patience to me for a short while, and I hope to 
 repay it." 
 
 Nelligan bowed in silence, and followed him into the house. 
 
 "There," said Mr. Leslie, "I have written my name to that paper ; 
 it is, so far as I can see, perfectly correct."
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CEo' MAETIN. 605 
 
 ■ " Kow,' let 'me read it for Mr. Nelligau," said EeptoiiV and, with- 
 out further preface, recited aloud the contents of tlie document. " I 
 conclude, Sir," said he, as he finished, " that there is nothing in what 
 you have just heard very new or very strange to your ears. You 
 knew hefore that Darcy Martin had two sons ; that theiy \vere twins ; 
 and that one of them, Godfrey, inherited the estate. You may 
 also have heard sometliing of the brother's history ; more, mayhap, 
 than is here alluded to." 
 
 " I have always heard him spoken of as a wild, reckless fellow, and 
 that it was a piece of special good fortune he was not born to the 
 property, or he had squandered every shilling of it," said Nelligan. 
 "■' "Yes," said Leslie, "such was the character he bore." 'l-^^*- -^ 
 
 " That will do," said Eepton, rising. " Now, gentlem'^n, rni 
 about to unlock this cabinet, and, if I be correctly informed, we shall 
 find the vestry -book with the entries spoken of by Mr. Leslie, and the 
 long missing will of Darcy Martin. Sucli, I repeat, are the objects I 
 expect to discover; and it is in your presence I proceed to this 
 examination." ' ■ ,li ■..■,•■ ; , .n -. 
 
 In some astonishment at his words, the others fdllbWbd liiin to 
 the corner of the room, where, half concealed in the wainscot, a 
 small door was at length discovered, unlocking which, Eeptou 
 and the others entered a little chamber, lighted by a narrow, loop- 
 holed window. Not stopping to examine the shelves, loaded with 
 old documents and account-books, Eepton walked straight to a 
 small ebony cabinet, on a bracket, opening which, he drew forth a 
 square vellum-bound book, Avith massive silver clasps. 
 
 " The old vestry-book. I know it Avell," said Leslie. 
 
 " Here are the documents in parchment," continued Eepton, 
 " and a sealed paper. "VVliat arc the lines in the corner, Mr. JSTelli- 
 gan, your eyes are better than mine ?" 
 
 " ' Agreement between Godfrey and Barry Martin. To be opened 
 by whichever shall survive the other.' The initials of each are nnder- 
 neath." 4 
 
 " "With this we have no concern," said Eepton ; " our business 
 lies with these." And he pointed to the vestry-book. " Let us look 
 for the entry you spoke of." 
 
 "It is easily found," said Leslie. "It was the last ever made in 
 that book. Here it is." And he read aloud : " ' February 8th, 1772. 
 Privately baptised, at Cro' Martin Castle, by me, Henry Leslie, Incum- 
 bent and Vicar of the said parish, Barry and Godfrey, sons of Darcy 
 Martin and Eleanor his wife, both born on tlio fourth day of the 
 aforesaid month ; and, for the better discrimination of their priority
 
 606 THE 3IABTINS OF CKO' MA-ETUT. 
 
 in age, it is hereby added that Barry Martin is the elder, and God- 
 frey the second son, to which fact the following are attesting wit- 
 nesses : Michael Keirn, house-steward, George Dorcas, butler, and 
 Catherine Broon, maid of still-room.' " 
 
 " Is that in your handwriting. Sir ?" asked Eepton. 
 *'Yes, every word of it, except the superscription of the wit- 
 nesses." 
 
 " Why then it Avould appear that the eldest son never enjoyed his 
 rights," cried Welligan. " Is that possible ?" 
 
 " It is tlie strict truth, Sir," said Eepton. " The whole history of 
 the case adds one to the thousand instances of the miserable failures 
 men make who seek by the indulgence of their ovm caprices to 
 obstruct the decrees of Providence. Darcy Martin died in the 
 belief that he had so succeeded, and here now, after more than half 
 a century, are the evidences which reverse his whole policy, and 
 subvert all his plans." 
 
 " But what could have been the object here ?" asked JNTelligan. 
 " Simply his preference for the younger-born. No sooner had the 
 children arrived at that time of life when dispositions display them- 
 selves, than he singled out Godfrey as his favourite. He distin- 
 guished him in every way, and as markedly showed that he felt little 
 affection for the other. "Whether this favouritism, so openly ex- 
 pressed, had its influence on the rest of the household, or that really 
 they grew to believe tliat the boy thus selected for peculiar honour 
 was the heir, it would be very difficult now to say. Each cause may 
 have contributed its share ; all we know is, that when sent to Doctor 
 Harley's school, at Oughterard, Godfrey was called the elder, and 
 distinguished as such by a bit of red ribbon in his button-hole. And 
 thus they grew up to youth and manhood ; the one, flattered, in- 
 dulged, and caressed, the other, equally depreciated and undervalued. 
 Men are, in a great measure, what others make them. Godfrey be- 
 came proud, indolent, and overbearing ; Barry, reckless and a spend- 
 thrift. Darcy Martin died, and Godfrey succeeded him as matter of 
 course, while Barry, disposing of the small property bequeathed to 
 him, set out to seek adventures in the Spanish IMain. 
 
 " I am not able to tell, had you even tlie patience to hear, of what 
 befel him there ; the very strangest, wildest incidents are recorded 
 of his life, but they have no bearing on what we are now engaged in. 
 He came back, however, with a wife, to find his brother also married. 
 This is a period of his life of which little is known. The brothers did 
 not live well together ; there were serious differences between them, 
 and Lady Dorothea's conduct towards her sister-in-law, needlessly
 
 THE MABTINS OF CEO' MARTINV' T 607 
 
 cruel and offensive, as I have heard, embittered the relations between 
 them. At last Barry's wife died, it was said, of a broken heart, and 
 Barry arrived at Cro' Martin to deposit his infant child with his 
 brother, and take leave of home and country for ever. 
 
 " Some incident of more than usual importance, and with circum- 
 stances of no common pain, must now have occurred, for one night 
 Barry left the Castle, vowing never more tc enter it. Godfrey fol- 
 lowed, and tried to detain him. A scene ensued of entreaty on one 
 side, and passionate vehemence on the other, which brought some of 
 the servants to the spot. Godfrey imperiously ordered them away ; 
 they all obeyed but Catty. Catty Broon followed Barry, and never 
 quitted him that night, which he spent walking up and down the long 
 avenue of the demesne, watching and waiting for daybreak. We can 
 only conjecture what, in the violence of her grief and indignation, 
 this old attaclied follower of the house might have revealed. Barry 
 had always been her favourite of the two boys ; she knew his rights — 
 she had never forgotten them. She could not tell by what subtleties 
 of law they had been transferred to another, but she felt in her heart 
 assured that, in the sight of God, they were sacred. How far, then, 
 she revealed this to him, or only hinted it, we have no means of 
 knowing. "We can only say that, armed with a certain fact, Barry 
 demanded the next day a formal meeting with his brother and his 
 sister-in-law. Of what passed^ then and there, no record remains, 
 save, possibly, in that sealed packet, for it bears the date of that event- 
 ful morning. I, however, am in a position to prove that Barry de- 
 clared he would not disturb the possession Godfrey was then enjoying. 
 ' Make that poor child,' said he, alluding to his little girl, ' your own 
 daughter, and it matters little what becomes of me.'' Godfrey has 
 more than once adverted to this distressing scene to me. He told 
 me how Lady Dorothea's passion was such that she alternately in- 
 veighed against himself for having betrayed her into a marriage 
 beneath her, and abjectly implored Barry not to expose them to the 
 shame and disgrace of the whole world by the assertion of his claim. 
 From this she would burst out into fits of open defiance of him, 
 daring him as an impostor ; in fact, Martin said, ' That morning has 
 darkened my life for ever ; the shadow of it will be over me to tlie 
 last hour I live !' And so it was ! Self-reproach never left him ; at 
 one time, for his usurpation of what never was his ; at another, for 
 the neglect of poor Mary, who was suffered to grow up without any 
 care of her education, or, indeed, of any attention whatever bestowed 
 upon her. 
 
 " I believe tliat, in spite of herself, Lady Dorothea visited the dis-
 
 •608 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 
 
 -like she bore Barry on his daugliter. It was a sense of hate from the 
 J consciousness of a wrong — one of the bitterest sources of enmity ! At 
 J all events, she showed her little affection — no tenderness. Poor God- 
 . frey did all that his weak and yielding nature would permit to repair 
 . this injustice ; his consciousness that to that girl's father he owed posi- 
 tion, fortune, station, everything, was ever rising up in liis mind, and 
 ui'ging him to some generous effort in her behalf. But you knew 
 him ; you knew how a fatal indolence, a shrinking horror of whatever 
 - demanded action or energy overcame all his better nature, and made 
 him as useless to all the exigencies of life as one whose heai't was 
 eaten up by selfishness. 
 
 " The remainder of this sad story is told in very few words. Barry 
 Martin, from whom for several years before no tidings had been re- 
 ceived, came suddenly back to England. At first it had not been his 
 intention to revisit Ireland. There was something of magnanimity 
 in the resolve to stay away : he would not come back to impose upon 
 his brother a renewal of that lease of gratitude he derived from him ; 
 lie would rather spare him the inevitable conflict of feeling which the 
 contrast of his own affluence with the humble condition of an exile 
 would evoke. Besides, he was one of those men whom, whatever Nature 
 may have disposed them to be, the world has so crushed and hardened 
 that they live rather to indulge strong resentments and stern duties, 
 ■ than to gratify warm affections. Something he had accidentally heard 
 in a coffee-room — the chance mention by a traveller recently returned 
 from Ireland — about a young lady of rank and fortune whom he had 
 met hunting her own harriers alone in the wildest glen of Connemara, 
 decided him to go over there, and, under the name of Mr. Barry, to 
 visit the scenes of his youth. .i:-jo, 
 
 "I have but to tell you t&at it was in that dreary month of 
 November, when plague and famine came together upon us, that he 
 saw this country ; the people dying on every side, the land untilled, 
 the very crops in some places uncut, terror and dismay on every side, 
 and they who alone could have inspired confidence, or afforded aid, 
 gone ! Even Cro' Martin was deserted — worse tlian deserted — for 
 one was left to struggle alone against difficulties that the boldest and 
 the bravest might have shrunk from. Had Barry Martin been like 
 any other man, he would at once have placed himself at her side. It 
 Avas a glorious occasion to have shown her that she was not the lone 
 and friendless orphan, but the loved and cherished child of a doting 
 father. But tlie hard, stern nature of the man had other and very 
 different impulses; and though he tracked her from cottage to 
 cottage, followed her in her lonely rambles, and watched her in her
 
 THE MAE.TINS OF CBO' MAUTIN. 609 
 
 daily duties, no impulse of aftection ever moved liim to call her his 
 daughter aud briug her home to his heart. I know not whether it 
 was to afford him these occasions of meetiug her, or really in a spirit 
 of benevolence, but he dispensed large sums in acts of charity among 
 the people, and Mary herself recounted to me, with tears of delight 
 in her eyes, the splendid generosity of this unknown stranger. I must 
 hasten on. An accident, the mere circumstance of a note-book 
 dropped by some strange cliance in Barry's room, revealed to him the 
 whole story of Captain Martin's spendthrift life ; he saw that this 
 young man had squandered away not only immense sums obtained by 
 loans, but actually bartered his own reversionary right to the entire 
 estate for money already lost at the gaming-table. 
 
 " Barry at once set out for Dublin to call upon me and declare 
 himself, but I was, unfortunately, absent at the assizes. He endea- 
 voured next to see Scanlan. Scanlan was in London : lie followed 
 him there. To Scanlan he represented himself as a money-lender, 
 who, having come to the knowledge of Merl's dealings with young 
 Martin, and tlie perilous condition of the property in consequence, 
 offered his aid to re-purchase the reversion while it was yet time. To 
 effect this bargain, Scanlan hastened over to Baden, accompanied by 
 Barry, who, howevei*, for secrecy sake, remained at a town in the 
 neighboui-hood. Scanlan, it seems, resolved to profit by an emergency 
 i so full of moment, and exacted from Lady Dorothea— for Martin was 
 ! then too ill to be consulted — the most advantageous terms for him- 
 self. I need but mention one of the conditions— a formal consent to 
 his marriage with Miss Martin ! and this, remember, when that young 
 lady had not the slightest, vaguest suspicion that such an iudignity 
 could be offered her, far less concurred in by her nearest relatives ! 
 In the exuberance of his triumph, Scanlan showed the formal letter 
 of assent from Lady Dorothea, to Barry. It was from this latter I 
 had the account, and I can give you no details, for aU he said was, 
 ' As I crushed it in my hand, I clenched my fist to fell him to the 
 ground ! but I refrained. I muttered a word or two, aud got out into 
 the street. I know very little more.' 
 
 "That night he set out for Baden, but of his journey I know 
 nothing. The only hint of it he ever dropped was when, giving me 
 this key, he said, ' I saw Godfrey.' tmiU) lar. 
 
 " He is now back here; once more ; come to insist upon his long 
 unasserted rights, aud by a tiile so indisputable tliat it will leave no 
 doubt of the result. 
 
 " He is silent and uncommuuicative ; but he has said enough to 
 
 2 E :u TV I ],■■.
 
 GIO THE MA.ETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 sliow me that he is possessed of evidence of the compact between 
 Godfrey and himself, nor is he the man to fail for lack of energy. 
 
 " I have now come to the end of this strange history, in which it 
 is not impossible you yourselves may be called to play a part, in con- 
 firmation of what you have seen this day." 
 
 " Then this was the same Mr. Barry of whom we spoke last 
 night?" said Kelligan, thoughtfully. "When about to describe 
 him to you, I was really going to say, something like what Mr. 
 Martin might look, if ten years older and white haired." 
 
 " There is a strong resemblance still!" said Eepton, as he busied 
 himself sealing up the vestry-book and the other documents. " These 
 I mean to deposit in your keeping, Mr. Nelligau, till they be called 
 for. I have sent over Massingbred to Barry to learn what his wishes 
 may be as to the next legal steps ; and now, I am ready to return 
 with you to Oughterard." 
 
 Talliing over this singular story they reached the town, where 
 Massingbred had just arrived a short time before. 
 
 " I have had a long chase," said Jack, "and only found him late 
 in the afternoon at the cottasre." 
 
 " You gave him the packet, then, and asked when we should 
 meet?" asked Eepton, hurriedly. 
 
 "Yes; he was walking up and down before the door with the 
 Doctor, when we rode up ; he scarcely noticed us, and taking your 
 letter in his hand he placed it, without breaking the seal, on a seat 
 in the porch, I then gave him your message, and he seemed so lost 
 in thought that I fancied he had not attended to me. I was about 
 to repeat it, when he interrupted me, saying, ' I have heard you, Sir ; 
 there is no answer.' As I stood for a moment or two, uncertain w-hat 
 to do or say, I perceived that Joe Nelligan, who had been speaking 
 to the Doctor, had just staggered towards a bench, ill and fainting. 
 ' Yes,' said Barry, turning his eyes towards him, ' she is very — very 
 ill; tell Eepton so, and he'll feel for me!' " 
 
 Eepton pressed his handkerchief to his face and turned away. 
 
 " I'm afraid," said Massingbred, " that her state is highly dan- 
 gerous. The few words the Doctor dropped were full of serious 
 meaning." 
 
 " Let us hope, and pray," said Eepton, fervently, " that amidst all 
 the calamities of this sorrow-struck land, it may be spared the loss of 
 one who never opened a cabin-door without a blessing, nor closed it 
 but to shut a hope within."
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 611 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 A DAEK DAT. 
 
 A MILD, soft day, ■with low-lying clouds, and rich odours of wild 
 iiowers rising from the ground, a certain dreamy quiet pervading 
 earth, and sky, and sea, over which faint shadows lingered lazilj^ ; 
 some drops of the night dew still glittered on the feathery larches, 
 and blue-bells hung down their heads, heavy with moisture, so still 
 the scene that the plash of the leaping tx*out could be heard as he 
 rose in the dark stream. And yet there was a vast multitude of people 
 there. The whole surface of the lawn that sloped from the cottage 
 to the river was densely crowded, with every age, from the oldest to 
 very infancy, with all conditions, from the well-clad peasant to the 
 humblest " tramper" of the high roads. Weariness, exhaustion, and 
 even hunger were depicted on many of their faces. Some had passed 
 the night there, others, had come long distances, faint and footsore ; 
 but as they sat, stood, or lay in groups around, not a murmur, not a 
 whisper escaped them ; with aching eyes they looked towards an 
 open window, where the muslin curtain was gently stirred in the 
 faint air. 
 
 The tidings of Mary Martin's illness had spread rapidly : far-away 
 glens down the coast, lonely cabins on the bleak mountains, wild 
 remote spots out of human intercourse had heard the news, and 
 their dwellers had travelled many a mile to satisfy their aching 
 hearts. 
 
 From a late hour of the evening before they had learnt nothing of 
 her state ; then, a few words whispered by old Catty to those nearest 
 the door told " that she was no better — if anything, weaker !" These 
 sad tidings were soon passed from lip to lip, and thus they spent the 
 niglit, praying, or watching Avearily, their steadfast gaze directed 
 towards that spot where the object of all their fears and liopes lay 
 suffering. 
 
 Of those there, there was scarcely one to whom she was not 
 endeared by some persona] benefit. She had aided this one in dis- 
 tress, the other slie liad nursed in fever; here, were the old she liad 
 comforted and cheered, tliere, the children she had taught and trained 
 beside her chair. Her gentle voice yet vibrated in every heart, her 
 
 2 II 2
 
 '612 i'fiiTMAETINS OP CKO' MAe^M 
 
 ways of kindness were in every memory. Sickness and sorrow were 
 familiar enough to themselves. Life was, at least to most of them, 
 one long slTuggle ; but they could not bring themselves to think of 
 her thus stricken down ! She ! that seemed an angel, as much above 
 the casualties of such fortunes as theirs, as she was their superior in 
 station, that she should be sick and suffering, was too terrible to 
 think of. . /; 
 
 There was a stir anf movement in the multitude, a wavy, surging 
 motion, for the Doctor was seen to issue from the atable-yard, and 
 lead his i)ony towards the bridge. He stopped to say a word or two 
 as he went. They were sad words ! and many a sobbing voice, and 
 many a tearful' eye told what his tidings had been. "Sinking — 
 sinking rapidly !" (.^•'i'J'= < {^u^xii. l''.u> ;i,.uJ viibaoiji Ji t i 
 
 A laint low cry burst frOffi"6iife' iii' the crowd' at tbis Ihb'ment, and 
 the rumour ran that a woman had fainted. It was poor Joan, who 
 had come that night over the mountain, and overcome by grief and 
 exhaustion together, had at last given way.'l^ oi bQii* flJJra bio adT 
 .J,/' Get a glass of wine for her, or even a cup of water," cried out 
 tliree or fom? voices ; and one nigh the door entered the cottage in 
 search of aid. The moment after a tall and handsome girl forced her 
 Avay through the crowd, and gave directions that Joan might be 
 carried into the house?^ naiiajsii ovj .joo jiidw oct ywon-J 
 
 ^ ' '/"Why did ye call her my Lady?" muttered an old hag to one of 
 tlie men near her; "sure she's Henderson's daughter!" 
 . " Is she, faith ? By my conscience, then, she might be a better 
 man's ! She's as fine a crayture as ever I seen !" 
 
 "If she has a purty face, she has a proud heart!" muttered 
 another. 
 
 '-'" Ayeh ! she'll never be like her that's going to leave us !" sighed a 
 young woman with a black ribbon in her cap. 
 
 Meanwhile Kate had Joan assisted into the cottage, and was busily 
 occupied in restoring her. Slowly, and with difficidty, the poor 
 creature came to herself, and gazing wildly around, asked where she 
 was ; then suddenly bursting out into tears, she said, 
 
 " Sure, I know well where I am ; sure it's my own self brought 
 grief and sorrow under this roof. But for one, she'd be well and 
 hearty this day !" 
 
 '^'■*" Let us still hope," said Kate, softly. " Let us hope that one so 
 dear to us all, may be left here. You are better now. I'll join you 
 again presently." And with noiseless footsteps she stole up tlie 
 stairs. As she came to the door she halted and pressed her hands to 
 her heart, as if in pain. There was a low murmuring soimd, as if of
 
 IHE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. 613 
 
 voices, from within, and Kate turned away and sat down on the 
 
 stairs. ,-. rts>ofTT 0+ {t?R9[ df; ,".■9:''^ a^K T •^'^vf<3«?rrrof{'^ 0+ 'f'^rrorro T/^flrnrn'^ 
 J Within the sick-room a subdued light came, and a soft air, mild and 
 balmy, for the rose-trees and the jessamine clustered over the window 
 and mingled their blossoms across it. Mary had just awoke from a 
 short sleep, and lay witli her hand, cla^ned, within, that of a large and 
 Avhite-haired man at the bedside. 1,^ ~,\i,\Ai 
 
 "What a good, kind Doctor," said she, faintly ;" I'm ^ure to find 
 
 you ever beside me when I awake." -..^^ g^.,^ -lojooa edi -f.-.i ,r[ni;tooi 
 " Oh, darlin', dear," broke in old Catty, " sure you ought to know 
 
 who he is. Sure it's your own " 
 
 "Hush ! be silent," muttered the old man, in a low, stern voice. ^ 
 " Is it Tuesday to-day ?" asked Mary, softly. ' ,,, ^j|,2qp^.j -oakfib 
 "Yes, dear, Tuesday," said the old man. ^^^^^^^ ^,^^ ^^^-^ ^ 
 " It was on Thursday my poor uncle died. Could' I live till Thurs- 
 day, Doctor ?" ,^,,^ 3^;,^^, ,^^j ^^^^^ ^^^ 
 
 The old man tried to speak, but could not, .. >■ .. \ r . ., , 
 
 4rr^,' You are afraid to shock me," said she, with a faint attempt to 
 smile, " but if you knew how happy I am — happy even to leave a life 
 I loved so well. It never could have been the same again, though — the 
 spell was breaking, hardship and hunger were maddening them — wlio 
 knows to what counsels they'd have listened soon ! Tell Harry to be 
 kind to them, won't you ? Tell him not to trust to others, but to 
 know them himself ; to go, as I have done, amongst them. They'll love 
 him so for doing it. He is a man, young, rich, and high-hearted — how 
 tliey'll dote upon him! Catty used to say it was my father they'd 
 have worshipped ; but that was in flattery to me, Catty, you always 
 
 said we were so like ' ' 
 
 a b*"*. Oh dear! oh dear! why won't you tell her?" broke in Catty. 
 But a severe gesture from ,the old man again cheeked her words. 
 
 " How that wild night at sea dwells in my thoughts ! I never sleep 
 but to dream of it. Cousin Harry must not forget those brave fellows. 
 I have nothing to requite them with. I make no will, Doctor," 
 said she, smiling, "for my only legacy is tliat nosegay there. AV^ill 
 you keep it for my sake ?" ivjirj . r,r 
 
 The old man hid his face, but his strong frame shook and quivered 
 in the agony of the moment. . i ^ "[ 
 
 "Hush!" said she, softly; "I hear voices without. Who are 
 they ?" 
 
 " They're the country people, darlin', come from Kiltimmon, and 
 beyond Kyle-a-Noe, to ax after you. They passed the night there, 
 most of them." lodT .a;
 
 614 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIK. 
 
 " Catty, clear, take care that you look after them, they will be 
 hungry aud famished, poor creatures. Oh, how unspeakably grateful 
 to one's heart is this proof of feeling. Doctor, you will tell Harry 
 how I loved them and how tlicij loved me. Tell him, too, that this 
 bond of affection is the safest and best of all ties. Tell him that their 
 old love for a Martin still survives in their hearts, aud it will be his 
 own fault if he does not transmit it to his children. There's some 
 one sobbing there without. Oh, bid them be of good heart. Catty ; 
 there is none who could go with less of loss to those behind. There — 
 there come the great waves again before me ! How my courage must 
 have failed me to make this impression so deep. And poor Joan, and 
 that dear fond girl who has been as a sister to me — so full of gentle- 
 ness and love — Kate, where is she ? No, do not call her ; say that I 
 asked for her — that I blessed her — and sent her this kiss !" She pressed 
 a rose to her hot, parched lips as she spoke, and then closing her eyes 
 seemed to fall off to sleep. Her breathing, at first strong and frequent, 
 grew fainter and fainter, and her colour came and went, while her 
 lips slightly moved, and a low, soft murmur came from them. 
 
 " She's asleep," muttered Catty, as she crouched down beside the 
 bed. 
 
 The old man bent over the bed, and watched the calm features. 
 He sat thus long for hours, but no change was there ; he put his lips 
 to hers, and then a sickly shuddering came over him, and a low deep 
 groan, that seemed to rend his very heart ! 
 
 Three days after, the great gateway of Cro' Martin castle opened to 
 admit a stately hearse drawn by six horses, all mournfully caparisoned, 
 shaking with plumes and black-fringed draper}"-. Two mourning- 
 coaches followed, and then, the massive gates were closed, and the sad 
 pageant wound its slow course through the demesne. At the same 
 moment another funeral was approaching the churchyard by a dif- 
 ferent road. It was a coiEn borne by men bareheaded and sorrow- 
 struck. An immense multitude followed, of every rank and age ; sobs 
 and sighs broke from them as they went. IVot an eye was tearless, 
 not a lip that did not tremble. At the head of this procession walked 
 a small group, whose dress and bearing bespoke their class. These 
 were Barry Martin leaning on Repton: Massingbred and the two 
 Nelligans came behind. 
 
 The two coffins entered the churchyard at the same instant. The 
 Uncle and the Niece were laid side by side in the turf! The same sacred 
 words consigned them both to their last bed ; the same second of time 
 heard the dank reverberation that pronounced " earth" had returned
 
 THE MASTINS OF CKO' MARTIN. 615 
 
 "to earth." A kiud of reverential awe pervaded the immense crowd 
 during the ceremony, and if here and there a sob would burst from 
 some overburdened heart, all the rest were silent ; respecting, with a 
 deference of true refinement, a sorrow deeper and greater than their 
 own, they never uttered a word, but with bent-down heads stole 
 quietly away. And now by each grave the mourners stood, silently 
 gazing on the little nioimds which typify so much of human sorrow ! 
 
 Barry Martin's bronzed and weather-beaten features were a thought 
 paler, perhaps. There was a dark shade of colour round the eyes, but 
 on the whole the expression conveyed far more of sternness than 
 sorrow. Such, indeed, is no uncommon form for grief to take in cer- 
 tain natures. There are men who regard calamity like a foe! and go 
 out to meet it in a spirit of haughty defiance. A poor philosophy ! 
 He who accents it as chastisement is both a braver and a better 
 man! 
 
 Eepton stood for a while beside him, not daring to interrupt his 
 thoughts. At length he whispered a few words in his ear. Barry 
 started suddenly, and his dark brow grew sterner and more resolute. 
 
 " Yes, Martin, you must," said Eepton, eagerly, "I insist upon it. 
 Good Heavens ! is it at such a time, in such a place as this, you can 
 harbour a thought that is not forgiveness. Eemember, lie is pooi" 
 Godfrey's son, the last of the race now." As he spoke, passing his arm 
 within the other's, he drew him gently along, and led him to where a 
 soKtary mourner was standing beside the other grave. 
 
 Barry Martin stood erect and motionless, whde Eepton spoke to 
 the young man. At first the words seemed to confuse and puzzle 
 him, for he looked vaguely around, and passed his hand across his 
 brow in evident difiiculty. 
 
 "Did you say here, in this country? Do I understand you 
 aright?" 
 
 "Here, in this very spot; there, standing now before you!" said 
 Eepton, as he pushed young Martin towards his uncle. 
 
 Barry held out his hand, which the yoiiug man grasped eagerly ; and 
 then, as if unable to resist his emotions longer, fell, sobbing violently, 
 into the other's arms. ■ . g fj 
 
 "Let us leave them for a while," said Eepton, hurrying over to 
 where Massingbred and the Nelligans were yet standing in silent 
 sorrow. 
 
 They left the spot together without a word. Grief had its own 
 part for each. It is not for us to say where sorrow eat deepest, or 
 in which heart the desolation was most complete. 
 
 "I'd not have known young Martin," whispered NeUigan in
 
 ^\(^ TH^,MAfi!^OS OF CBO' ilABT^. 
 
 Eepton's ear ; " he looks full twelve years older than when last I saw 
 
 him." .I!!MM-U3K 
 
 " The fast men of this age, Sir, live their youth rapidly," replied 
 the other. " It is rarely their fortune to survive to be like me, or 
 Ileaven knows what hearts they would be left with !" ' + 
 
 Wliile they thus talked, Massingbred and Joe JN'clligan had stroUed 
 away into the wood. Neither spoke. Massingbred felt the violent 
 trembling of tlie other's arm as it rested on his ovni, and saw a gulp- 
 ing effort, by Avhich more than once he suppressed his rising emotion. 
 Por hours they thus loitered along, and at length, as they issued from 
 the demesne, they found Eepton and ]Mr. Nelligan awaiting them, it't 
 
 "Barry Martin has taken his nephew back with him to the 
 cottage," said Eepton, " and we'll not intrude upon them for the rest 
 of the evening." ^^^ ^ j^^-^^ .^.^^.^ e— i-xig gniiov r. :u .iumj. 
 
 ■ R dYm {^a'n&b ban mgio-isil ai nxsm r. a&di 
 
 ; bsdoism t^isvs ^o oteiooaac yHcb 
 CHAPTEE LXYII. ^^ °* * ' 
 ketton's last" •CA'trg^E;" 
 
 "We have no right, as little have we the inclination, to inflict our 
 reader wdth the details b}^ which Barry Martin asserted and obtained 
 his own. A suit in w^hich young Martin assumed to be the defend- 
 ant developed the whole history to the world, and proclaimed his title 
 to the estate. It was a memorable case in many ways ; it was the 
 last brief Val Eepton ever held. Never was his clear and searching 
 intellect more conspicuous — never did he display more logical acute- 
 ness, nor trace out a difficult narrative with more easy perspicuity. 
 
 "My Lords," said he, as he drew nigh the conclusion of his 
 speech, " it would have been no ordinary satisfaction to me to close a 
 long life of labour in these Courts by an effort which restores to an 
 ancient name the noble heritage it had held for centuries. I should 
 have deemed such an occasion no iinfitting close to a career not 
 altogether void of its successes ; but the event has still stronger claims 
 upon my gratitude. It enables me in all the unembellislied sternness 
 of legal proof to display to an age little credulous of much affection 
 the force of a brother's love — the high-hearted devotion by which a 
 man encountered a long life of poverty and privation, rather than 
 disturb the peaceful possession of a brother. 
 
 " Eomance has its own way of treating such themes, but I do not
 
 THE MAETINS OF CEO' MAETIN. 617 
 
 believe romance can add one feature to the simple fact of this man a 
 self-denial. ry- .^ 
 
 " "We should probably be lost in our speculations as to the noble 
 motives of this sacrifice, if our attention was not called away to some- 
 thing infinitely finer and more exalted than even this. I mean the 
 glorious life and martyr's death of her who has made a part of this, 
 case less like a legal investigation than the page of an affecting story.,' 
 Story, do I say ! vSliame on the word. It is in truth and reality 
 alone are sucb virtues inscribed. Fiction cannot deal with the humblei 
 materials that make up such an existence ; the long hours of watch- 
 ing by sickness — the weary care of teaching the young — the trying 
 disappointments to hope bravely met by fresh efforts — the cheery en-, 
 couragement drawn from a heart exhausting itself to supply otbers» 
 Think of a young girl — a very child in the world's wisdom — more 
 than a man in heroism and daring, with a heart made for every high 
 ambition, and a station that might command the highest, calmly con- 
 senting to be the friend of destitution, the companion of misery, the 
 daily associate of every wretchedness — devoting grace that might have 
 adorned a court to shed happiness in a cabin, and making of beaut}' 
 that would have shed lustre around a palace the sunshine that 
 pierced the gloom of a peasant's misery ! Picture to yourself the 
 hand a prince might have knelt to kiss, holding the cup to the lips of 
 fever — fancy the form whose elegance would have fascinated, crouched 
 down beside the embers as she spoke words of consolation or hope to 
 some bereaved mother or some desolate orphan ! 
 
 " These are not the scenes we are wont to look on here. Our cares 
 are, unhappily, more with the wiles and snares of crafty men than 
 with the sorrows and sufferings of the good ! It is not often human 
 nature wears its best colours in this place ; the spirit of litigious 
 contest little favours the virtues that are the best adornments of our 
 kind. Thrice happy am I, then, that I end my day where a glorious 
 sunset gilds its last hours — that I close my labours not in reprobating 
 crime or stigmatising baseness, but with a full heart, thanking God 
 that my last words are an elegy over the grave of the best of 'The , 
 Martins of Cro' Martin.' " 
 
 The inaccurate record from which we take these passages — for the 
 only report of the trial is in a newspaper of the time — adds, that the 
 emotion of the speaker had so far pervaded the Court that the con- 
 elusion was droA\'ned in mingled expressions of applause and sorrow ; 
 and when Eepton retired, he was followed by the whole Bar, eagerly 
 pressing to take their last farewell of its honoured father. 
 
 The same column of the paper mentions that Mr. Joseph Nelligau 
 
 r.
 
 618 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MARTIN. 
 
 was to have made his first motion that day as Solicitor- General, but 
 had left the Court from a sudden indisposition, and the cause was 
 consequently deferred. 
 
 If A^al Repton never again took his place in Court, he did not 
 entirely abdicate his functions. Barry Martin had determined on 
 making a conveyance of the estate to his nephew, and tlie old Lawyer 
 was for several weeks busily employed in that duty. Although 
 Merl's claim became extinguished when young Martin's right to the 
 property was annulled, Barry Martin insisted on arrangements being 
 made to repay him all that he had advanced — a course which Eepton, 
 with some little hesitation, at last concurred in. He urged Barry to 
 reserve a life-interest to himself in the property, representing the 
 various duties which more properly would fall to his lot than to that 
 of a young and inexperienced proprietor. But he would not hear 
 of it. 
 
 "He cannot abide the place," said Eepton, when talking the 
 matter over with Massingbred. " He is one of those men who never 
 can forgive the locality where they have been miserable, nor the indi- 
 vidual who has had a share in their sorrow. When he settles his 
 account with Henderson, then he'll leave the west for ever." 
 
 " And will he still leave Henderson in his charge ?" asked Jack. 
 
 "That is as it may be," said Eepton, cautiously. " There is, as I 
 understand, some very serious reckoning between them. It is the 
 only subject on which Martin has kept mystery with me, and I do 
 not like even to advert to it." 
 
 Massingbred pondered long over these words, without being able 
 to make anything of them. 
 
 It might be that Henderson's conduct had involved him in some 
 grave charge, and if so. Jack's own intentions with regard to the 
 daughter would be burdened with fresh complications. "The Steward" 
 was bad enough, but if he turned out to be the " unjust Steward " 
 
 " I'll start for Gal way to-night," thought he. " I'll anticipate the 
 discovery, whatever it be. She can no longer refuse to see me on 
 the pretext of recent sorrow. It is now two months and more since 
 this bereavement befel her. I can no longer combat this life of 
 anxiety and doubt. — "What can I do for you in the west, Sir?" 
 asked he of Eepton, suddenly. 
 
 " Many things, my young friend," said Eepton, " if you will delay 
 your departure two days, since they are matters on which I must 
 instruct you personally." 
 
 Massingbred gave a kind of half-consent, and the other went on to
 
 THE MAETINS OF CHO' MABTIN. 619 
 
 speak of the necessity for some nice diplomacy between the uncle 
 and his nephew. ' " They know each other but little ; they are on the 
 verge of misunderstandings a dozen times a day. Benefits are, after 
 all, but sorry ties between man and man. They may ratify the treaty 
 of affection, they rarely inscribe the contract!" 
 
 " Still Martin cannot but feel that to the noblest act of his imcle's 
 generosity he is indebted for all he possesses." 
 
 " Of course he knows, and he feels it ; but who is to say whether 
 that same consciousness is not a load too oppressive to bear. I know, 
 already, Barry Martin's suggestions as to certain changes have not 
 been well taken, and he is eager and pressing to leave Ireland, lest 
 anything should disturb the concord, frail as it is, between them." 
 
 " By Jove!" exclaimed Massingbred, passionately, " there is won- 
 derfully little real good in this w^orld — wonderfully little that can 
 stand the test of the very basest of all motives — mere gain." i 
 
 "Don't say so!" cried Eepton. "Men have far better natures 
 than you think ; the fault lies in their tempers. Ay, Sir, we are 
 always entering into heavy recognisances with our passions, to do 
 fifty things we never cared for. "We have said this, we have heard 
 the other ; somebody sneered at that, and some one else agreed with 
 him ; and away we go, pitching all reason behind us, like an old shoe, 
 and only seeking to gratify a whim, or a mere caprice, suggested by 
 temper. "Why do people maintain friendly intercourse at a distance 
 for years, who could not pass twenty-four hours amicably under the 
 same roof? Simply because it is their natures, and not their tem- 
 pers, are in exercise." 
 
 " I scarcely can separate the two in my mind," said Jack, doubt- 
 mgly. 
 
 " Can't you. Sir ? Why nature is your skin, temper only your 
 great-coat." And the old Lawyer laughed heartily at his own conceit. 
 "But here comes the postman." 
 
 The double-knock had scarcely reverberated through the spacious 
 hall when the servant entered with a letter. 
 
 "Ah! Barry Martin's hand. What have we here ?" said Eepton, 
 as he ran his eyes over it. " So-so; just as I was saying this minute, 
 only that Barry has the good sense to see it himself. ' My nephew,' 
 he wTites, ' has his own ideas on all these subjects, which are not 
 mine ; and as it is no part of my plan to hamper my gift with con- 
 ditions that might impair its value, I mean to leave this at once. 
 
 " ' I have had my fidl share of calamity since I set foot in this 
 land, and if this rugged old nature could be crushed by mere mis-
 
 fe^b THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN, 
 
 fortune, the last two montlis might have done it. But no, Eepton, 
 the years by which we survive friends serve equally to make us sur- 
 vive affections, and wo live on, untouched by time ! jW-'d 
 
 " ' I mean to be with you this evening. Let us dine alane together, 
 for I have much to say to you. . 
 
 '. .JrioTT- Off rr^^nf .iA * " 'Tours ever, 
 mum .{ "' Barry Martin. 
 
 " 'I hope I may see Massingbred before I sail. I'd like to shake 
 hands witli him once again. Say so to him, at all events.' 
 
 "Come in to-morrow to breakfast," said Eepton; "by that time 
 we'll have finished all mere business affairs." And Massingbred 
 having assented, they parted. 
 
 .OiTt;ff.-:t if; fk'rifT p)/Tr h9TXu 
 
 CHAPTER LXYIII. 
 
 TOWARDS THE END.' 
 
 Eepton was standing at his parlour window, anxiously awaiting 
 his friend's arrival, when the chaise with four posters came to the 
 door. " AYhat have we here?" said the old Lawyer to himself, as 
 Barry assisted a lady dressed in deep mourning to alight, and hurried 
 out to receive them. 
 
 " I have not come alone, Eepton," said the other. " I have brought 
 my daughter with me." Before Eepton coidd master his amazement 
 at these words, slie had thrown back her veil, revealing the well-known 
 features of Kate Henderson. 
 
 " Is this possible ? — is this really tlie case ?" cried Eepton, as he 
 grasped her hand between both his own. " Do I, indeed, see one I 
 have so long regarded and admired, as the child of my old friend ?"i{ji 
 
 " Fate, that dealt me so many heavy blows of late, had a kindness 
 in reserve for me, after all," said Barry. "' I am not to be quite alone 
 in this world!" 
 
 " li you be grateful, what ought not to be my thankfulness r" said 
 Kate, tremulously. 
 
 " Leave us for a moment together, Kate," said Barry. And taking 
 Eepton's arm he led him into an inner room. ri^j-j dj 
 
 " I have met with many a sore cut from Fortune, Eepton," said he.
 
 THE MAETLNS OF CBO' ilARTiy. 621 
 
 in the fierce tone that was most natural to him, "the nearest and 
 dearest to me not the last to treat me harshly. . I need not tell you 
 how I have been requited in life ; not, Liideed, that I seek to acquit 
 myself of my own share of ill. My whole career has been a fault ; it 
 could not bring other fruit than misery." He paused, and for a while 
 seemed labouring in strong emotions. At last he went on : 
 
 " When that girl was born — it was two years before I married — 
 I entrusted the charge of her to Henderson, who placed her with a 
 sister of his in Bruges. I made arrangements for her : maintenance 
 and education — liberally for one as poor as I was. I made but one 
 condition about her: it was, that under no circumstances, save 
 actual want, should she ever be reduced to earn her own bread ; but 
 if the sad hour did come, nevei- — as had been her poor mother's fate 
 — never as a Governess ! It was in that fearful struggle of condition 
 I first knew her. I contiuued, year after year, to hear of her ; re- 
 mitting regularly the sums I promised— doubling, tripling them, 
 when fortune favoured me with a chance prosperity. The letters 
 spoke of her as well and happy, in humble, but sufiicient cii-cum- 
 stances, equally remote from privation as from the seductions of a 
 more exalted state. I insisted eagerly on my original condition, and 
 hoped some day to hear of her being married to some honest, but 
 liumble man. It was not often that I had time for self-reproach ; 
 but when such seasons would beset me, I thought of this girl, and 
 
 her poor mother long dead and gone But let me finish. While 
 
 I struggled — and it was often a hard struggle — to maintain my side 
 of the compact, selling at ruinous loss acquisitions it had cost me 
 years of labour to obtain, this fellow, this Henderson, was basely 
 betraying the trust I placed in him ! The girl, for whose protection, 
 whose safety, I was toiling, was thrown by him into the very world 
 for which I had distinctly excepted her ; her talents, her accomplish- 
 ments, her very graces, farmed out and hired for his own profit! 
 Launched into the very sea where her own mother met shipwreck, 
 she was, a mere child, sent to thread her way througli the perils of 
 the most dissipated society. Hear her own account of it, Kepton. 
 Let lier tell you what is the tone of that high life to which foreign 
 nobility imparts its fascinations. Not that I want to make invidious 
 comparisons ; our own country sends its liigh tributaries to every vice 
 of Europe ! I know not what accident saved her amidst tliis polhition. 
 Some fancied theory of popular wrongs, she tliiuks, gave her a kind 
 of factitious heroism; elevating her, at least to her own mind, above 
 the frivolous corruptions aroiuid her. She was a Democrat, to rescue 
 her from being worse.
 
 G22 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MA.ETIN. 
 
 " At last came a year of unusual pressure ; my remittance was 
 delayed ; but when sent, was never acknowledged. From tliat hour 
 out, I never heard of her. How she came into my brother's family, 
 you yourself know. What was her life there, she has told me ! Not 
 in any spirit of complaint — nay, she acknowledges to many kindnesses 
 and much trust. Even my cold sister-in-law showed traits, for which 
 I had not given her credit. I have already forgotten her wrongs 
 towards myself, in requital of her conduct to this poor girl. 
 
 "I'll spare you the scene with Henderson, Eepton," said he, after 
 a long pause. " When the fellow told me that the girl was the same 
 I had seen watching by another's sick-bed, that she it was whose 
 never-ceasing cares had soothed the last hours of one dearer than her- 
 self, I never gave another thought to him. I rushed out in search of 
 her, to tell her myself the tidings." 
 
 " How did she hear it ?" asked Eepton, eagerly. 
 
 " More calmly than I could tell it. Her first words were, ' Thank 
 God for this, for I never could love that man I had caUed my 
 father!'" 
 
 " She knows, then, every circumstance of her birth?" 
 
 " I told her everything. We know each other as well as though 
 we had lived under the same roof for years. She is my own child in 
 every sentiment and feeling. She is frank and fearless, Eepton — 
 two qualities that will do well enough in the wild Savannahs of the 
 New World, but would be unmanageable gifts in the Old, and tliither 
 we are bound. I have written to Liverpool about a ship, and we shall 
 sail on Saturday." 
 
 " How warmly do I sympathise in this your good fortune, Martin," 
 said Eepton. " She is a noble creature, and worthy of belonging to 
 you." 
 
 " I ask for nothing more, Eepton," said he, solemnly. "Portune 
 and station, such as they exist here, I have no mind for ! I'm too 
 old now to go to school about party tactics and politics : I'm too 
 stubborn, besides, to yield up a single conviction for the sake of unity 
 with a party — so much for my unfitness for public life. As to private, 
 I am rough and untrained; the forms of society, so pleasant to others, 
 would be penalties to vie. And then," said he, rising and drawing up 
 his figure to its full height, " I love the forest and the prairie ; I glory 
 in the vastness of a landscape, where the earth seems boundless as the 
 sky, and where, if I hunt down a buffalo-ox, after twenty miles of a 
 chase, I have neither a game-law nor a gamekeeper, nor a charge of 
 trespass hanging over me."
 
 THE MAKTINS OF CBO' MAUTIN. 623 
 
 " There's some one knocking at tlie door," said Eepton, as he arose 
 and opened it. 
 
 "A thousand pardons for this interruption," said Massiagbred, in a 
 low and eager voice, " but I cannot keep my promise to you ; I cannot 
 defer my journey to the west. I start to-night. Don't ask me the 
 reasons. I'll be free enough to give them if they justify me." 
 
 " But here is one who wishes to shake hands with you, Massing- 
 bred," said Eepton, as he led him forward into the room. 
 
 " I hope you are going to keep your pledge with me, though," said 
 Barr}^ " Have you. forgotten you have promised to be my guest over 
 the sea ?" 
 
 "Ah!" said Jack, sighing, "I've had many a day-dream of late." 
 
 " The man's m love," said Eepton. " Nay, prisoner, you are not 
 called on to say what may criminate you. I'U tell you what, Barry, 
 you'll do the boy good service by taking him along with you. There's 
 a healthful sincerity in the active life of the New "World well fitted 
 to dispel illusions that talie their rise in the indolent voluptuousness 
 of the old. Carry him off then, I say ; accept no excuses nor apolo- 
 gies. Send him away to buy powder and shot, leather gaiters, and 
 the rest of it. When I saw him first myself it was in the character 
 of a poacher, and he filled the part well. Ah ! he is gone," added he, 
 perceiving that Martin had just quitted the room. " Poor fellow, he 
 is so full of his present happiness — the first gleam of real sunshine 
 on a long day of lowering gloom ! he has just found a daughter — an 
 illegitimate one — but worthy to be the rightfid-born child to the fii'st 
 man in the land. The discovery has carried him back twenty years 
 of life, and freshened a heart whose wells of feeling were all but dried 
 up for ever. If I mistake not, you must have met her long ago at 
 Cro' Martin." 
 
 " Possibly. I have no recollection of it," said Jack, musing. 
 
 " An ignoble confession. Sir," said Eepton ; " no less shocked 
 should I be were she to tell me she was uncertain if she had ever 
 met Mr. Massuigbred. As Burke once remarked to me, * Active in- 
 telligences, like appropriate ingredients in chemistry, never meet 
 without fresh combinations.' It is then a shame to ignore such pro- 
 ducts. I'd swear that when you did meet you understood each other 
 thoroughly : agreed well — ay, and what is more to the purpose, dif- 
 fered in the right places, too." 
 
 "I'm certain we did," said Jack, smiling, "though I'm ungrateful 
 enough to forget all about it." 
 
 " AVell," said Martiu, entering, " I have sent for another advocate
 
 C24i THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAETIN. 
 
 to plead my cause. My daughter will tell you, Sir, that she at least 
 is not afraid to eucounter the uncivilised glens beside the Orinoco. 
 Come in, Kate. You tell me that you and Mr. Massingbred are old 
 friends." 
 
 Massingbred started as he heard the name, looked up, and there 
 stood Kate before liim, with her hand extended in welcome. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! what is this ? Am I in a dream ? Can t*fiis be 
 real?" cried Jack, pressing his hands to his temples, and trembling 
 froni head to foot in the intensity of his anxiety. 
 
 "My father tells me of an invitation he has given you, Mr. Mas- 
 singbred," said she, smiling faintly at his embarrassment, "and'asks 
 me to repeat it ; but I know far better than he does all that you 
 would surrender by exile from the great world wherein you are des- 
 tined to eminence. The great debater, the witty conversationalist, 
 the smart jeviewer, might prove but a sorry trapper, and even a bad 
 shot ! I have my scruples, then, about supporting a cause where my 
 conscience does not go along with me." 
 
 "My head on't, but he'll like the life well," said Barry, half 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Am I to think that you will not ask me to be your guest?" 
 said Jack, in a whisper, only audible by Kate. 
 
 " I have not said so," said she, in the same low tone. 
 
 ""Will you go further, Kate," muttered he, in tremulous eager- 
 ness^ ",a4d say, ' Come ?' " 
 ,^,^;"5teslf| said she. " Come !" 
 
 ^^"1 accept!" cried Jack, rushing over, and grasping Martin's hands 
 between his own. " I'm ready — this hoiu-, this instant, if you like it." 
 ,, "We find the prisoner guilty, my Lords," said Eepton; "but we 
 recommend him to mercy, as his manner on this occasion convinces 
 us it is a first offence." 
 
 _ , * * * * * * 
 
 "We have now done with the Martins of Cro' Martin. Should any 
 of our readers feel a curiosity as to the future fortunes of the estate, 
 its story, like that of many another Irish property, is written in the 
 Encumbered Estates Court. Captain Martin only grew wiser by the 
 especial experience of one class of difficulties. His indolent, easy dis- 
 position, and a taste for expense led him once again into embarrass- 
 ments, from which there was but one issue— the sale of his property. 
 He has still, however, a handsome subsistence remaining, and lives 
 with Lady Dorothea, notable and somewhat distinguished residents 
 of a city on the Continent.

 
 THE MARTINS OF CfiO MAliTlir. 625"^ 
 
 We cannot persuade ourselves that ^\e have inspired interest for 
 the humbler characters of our piece. Nor dare we ask the reader to 
 hear more about Mrs. Cronan and her set, nor leai-n how Kilkieran 
 fared in the changes arovmd it, 
 
 Tor Joseph Nelligan, however, we claim a parting word. He wa s 
 the first of an order of men ]vho have contributed no small share to 
 the great social revolution of Ireland in late years. "With talents 
 fully equal to the best in the opposite scale of party, and a character ' 
 above all reproach, he stood a rebuking witness to all the taunts and 
 sarcasms once indiscriminately levelled at his class ; and, at the same 
 time, inspired his own party with the happy knowledge, that there was 
 a nobler and more legitimate road to eminence than by factious dis- 
 play and popular declamation, "r ,' ,.',. ' ' ••^' -.. .. . 
 
 "We do not wish to inquire how far 'ilie one great i)l6w to his 
 happiness — the disappointment of his early life — contributed to his 
 success by concentrating his ambition on his career. Certain is it, 
 no man achieved a higher or more rapid elevation, and old Dan lived 
 to receive at his board the Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench in the 
 person of his own son. 
 
 Poor Simmy Crow ! for if we would forget him, he has taken care 
 that oblivion is not to be his fate. He has sent from the Eocky 
 Mountains, where he is iiow wandering with Barry Martin, some 
 sketches of Indian Life to tlie Irish Art-Exhibition.' 
 
 If it be a pleasure to trace in our friends the traits we have admired 
 in them in youth, and remark the embers of the fires that once 
 warmed their hearts, Simmy affords us this gratification, since his 
 drawings reveal the inspirations that first filled his early mind. The 
 Chief in his war-paint has a fac-simile likeness to his St. John in the 
 "Wilderness ; and as for the infant the squaw is bathing in the 
 stream, we can produce twelve respectable witnesses to depose that 
 it is "Moses." 
 
 "We are much tempted to add a word about the Exiles themselves, 
 but we abstain. It is enough to say, that all the attractive prospects 
 of ambition held out by friends — all the seductions of generous offers 
 from family, have never tempted them to return to the Old "World ; 
 but that they live on happily, far away from the jarring collisions of 
 life, the tranquil eiisteucc they had longed for. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 :i S
 
 C. WHITING, BEAUFOET HOUSE, STRANO.
 
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