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THE
lAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN
BY
CHARLES LEVER,
AUTHOR OP
" THE DODD FAMILY ABROAD,"
" FORTUNES OF GLENCORE,"
" HARRY LORREQUER,"
" ROLAND CASHEL,"
" TOM BURKE,"
ETC. ETC.
WITH FORTY ILLUSTRATIONS.
NEW EDITION.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
1873.
I $^3
TO
THE EEVEEEND MORTIMER O'SULLIVAN, D.a
If I have not asked your permission to dedicate this volume
to you, it is because I would not involve you in the responsi-
bility 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 laboui* — a
testimony of the deep and sincere affection of one, who has no
higher pride than in the honour of your friendship.
Ever sincerely yourd,
CHARLES LEVER.
Casa Capponi, Florence,
May, 1856.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
TAQH
Frontispiece — ^Vignette Title'
Mary Martin's Levee ... ... ... ... ... 6
Mrs. Cronan's Evening ... ... ... ... 19
Maurice Scanlan, Attorney-at-Law ... ... ... 43
The Emperor Charles V. Restores Art ... ... 45
A Market Day ... ... ... ... ... ... 84
A Doleful Ditty ... ... ... ... ... 101
Clearing Out ... ... ... ... ... ... 113
The New Road ... ... ... ... ... 120
Catching a Poacher .. ... ... ... ... 154
The Cracked Pate, or Baljn of Gilead ... ... ... 164
The Oughterard Figaro ... ... ... ... 177
The Cut Direct ... ... ... ... ... 189
Magic Touches ... ... ... ... ... ... 216
A Diplomatic Council Discussing the Points ... ... 237
Simmy gives a Graphic Description of a Canvass ... ... 250
Tenants Right and Tenants Wrong ... ... ... 262
Mrs. NeUigan Astonishes her Husband ... ... ... 301
The Sale ... ... ... ... ... ... 303
Sir Lucius ... ... ... ... ... ... 342
Mr. Herman Merl ... .. ... ... ... 350
The Introduction .. ... ... ... ... 365
The Young Duchess and an Old Friend ... ... 365
A Spill... ... ... ... ... ... ... 399
A Rout ... ... .. ... ... ... 405
Morning Calls ... ... ... ... ... ... 433
The Sleeper ... ... ... ... ... 441
Poor Margaret ... ... ... ... ... ... 465
Joan ... ... ... ... ... ... 469
Old Mat's Last Resting Place ... ... ... ... 490
Mary Martin's Ball Practice ... ... ... ... 519
Something Not Exactly Flirtation ... ... ... 526
Pride meets Pride ... ... ... ... ,. 544
The Sick Chamber ... ... ... ... ... 584
Kate Henderson at Home ... ... ... ... 595
Mrs, Cronan's Party ... ... ... ... ... 612
Joan with the Joyces ... ... ... ... 618
Mr. Merl comes to Grief ... ... ... 650
*' My Daughter I" ... „. ^ 687
APOLOGY FOE A PEEFACE.
^ REMEMBER once having made the ascent of a mountain in
Killarney to see the sun rise, and watch the various effects the
breaking day should successively throw on the surrounding
landscape. With 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 them-
selves, 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 described the features of the invisible land-
scape.
Shall I confess that now, as I have completed this tale, I find
myself 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 that I desired
to develop, I have barely sketched — the great political change
worked on a whole people, merely glanced at.
Perhaps my plan included intentions not perfectly compatible
with fiction — perhaps the inability lay more with myself —
mayhap both causes have had their share in the failure. But
BO is it that now, my task completed, I grieve to see how little
opportunity I have had of dwelling on the great problem which
first engaged me in the social working of the Emancipation Bill
of '29.
It was a subject over which I had long thought and pon-
dered, and in, I hope, a spirit of fairness and justice. Firmly
feeling that the great evils of Ireland were rather social than
VI APOLOGY FOR A PREFACE.
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 goodwill, I have regarded the
working of the Relief Bill with intense interest 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 for-
bearing tone has unquestionably succeeded ; and, if we have not
reached the happy goal of perfect concord, much of the bitter-
ness of party has been efl'aced — 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 understand and appreciate them, knowing well
the complex web of their intricate natures, and able to dis-
criminate between the real and unreal 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.
O.L.
THI!
MAKTINS OF CEO' MAETIN.
CHAPTER I.
CRO' MARTIN.
1 AM about to speak of Ireland as it was some four-and-
twenty years ag'o, and feel as if I were referring to a long-past
period of history, such have been the changes, political and
social, effected in that interval ! Tempting as in some respects
might be an investigation into the causes of these great
changes, and even speculation as to how they might have been
modified, and whither they tend, I prefer rather to let the
reader form his own unaided judgment on such matters, and
will therefore, without more of preface, proceed to my story.
If the traveller leaves the old town of Oughterard, and pro-
ceeds westward, he enters a wild and dreary region, with few
traces of cultivation, and with scarcely an inhabitant. Bare,
bleak mountains, fissured by many a torrent, bound plains of
stony surface, — here and there the miserable hut of some
"cottier," with its poor effort at tillage, in the shape of some
roods of wet potato land, or the sorry picture of a stunted oat
crop, green even in the late autumn. Gradually, however, tha
scene becomes less dreary. Little patches of grass land come
into view, generally skirting some small lake ; and here are to
be met with droves of those wild Connemara ponies, for which
the district is so celebrated ; a stunted, hardy race, with all the
endurance and courage that beseem a mountain origin. Further
9.
S THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
on, tlie gi'ateful sight of young timber meets the eye, and large
enclosures of larch and spruce fir are 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 handsome entrance-gate of massive
stone, with armorial bearings above it, announces the approach
to Cro' Martin Castle, the ancient seat of the Martins.
An avenue of several miles in length, winding through
scenery of the inost 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 pre-
tensions to architectural correctness, Cro' Martin was, indeed,
an imposing structure. Originally the stronghold of some
bold Borderer, it had been added to by successive proprietors,
till at last it had assumed the proportions of a vast and
spacious edifice, different eras contributing the different styles
of building, and presenting in the mass, traces of every archi-
tecture, from the stern old watch-tower of the fourteenth
century to the coinmodious dwelling-house of oar 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 fi'om sunlight, but for daily use in rooms that
showed continual habitation.
Some of the apartments displayed massive specimens of that
richly-carved old oak furniture for which the Chateaux of the
Low Countries were famed ; others abounded with inlaid
consoles and costly tables of " marqueterie," and others again
exhibited that chaste white and gold which characterised the
splendid era of the Regency in France. Great jars of Sevres,
those splendid mockeries of high art, stood in the windows,
whose curtains were of the heaviest brocade. Carpets of soft
Persian v,'ool 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
ceo' martin. S'
that stretched on every side. The spotless windows of plate-
glass, the polished floor that mirrored every chair that stood
on it, the massive and well-fitting doors, the richly gilded dogs
that shone within the marble hearth, had little brotherhood
with the dreary dwellings of the cottiers beyond the walls of
the park — and certainly even Irish misery never was moi'e
conspicuous than in that lonely region.
It was early on a calm morning of the late autumn that the
silent court-yard of the Castle resounded with the sharp quick
tramp of a horse, suddenly followed by a loud shrill whistle, as
a young girl, mounted u|X)U 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 joj-ous
character of happy girlhood with a temperament of resolute
action. The large and liquid hazel eyes, with their long dark
fringes, were almost at variance with the expression of the
m.outh, which, though finely and beautifully fashioned, con-
veyed the working of a spirit that usually followed its own
dictates, and as rarely brooked much interference.
Shaded by a broad-leaved black hat, and with a braid of her
dark auburn hair accidentally fallen on her shoulder, Mary
Martin sat patting the head of the wire-haired greyhound, who
had reared himself to her side — a study for Laudseer himself.
Scarcely above a minute had elapsed, when several servants
were seen running towards her, whose hurried air betraj'ed
that they had only just risen from bed.
" You're all very late to-day," cried the young lady. " You
should have been in the stables an hour ago. Where's
Brand r "
"He's gone into the fair, Miss, with a lot of hoggets," said a
little old fellow with a rabbit-skin cap, and a most unmistakable
groom formation about the knees and ankles.
"Look to the mare, Barny," said she, jumping off, "and
remind me, if I forget it, to fine you all, for not having fed and
watered before six o'clock. Yes, I'll do it — I said so once
before, and you'll see I'll keep my word. Is it because my
uncle goes a few weeks to the 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."
2—3
4 THE MAUTmS OF CBO* MARTIN.
All this was said rapidly, and in a tone that evidently was
Tiot meant to admit of reply; and the gardener led the way,
key in hand, very much with the air of a felon going to con-
viction. He was a Northern Irishman, however, and possessed
the Scotch-like habits of prudent reserve, that never wasted a
word in a bad cause. . And thus he suffered himself to be
soundly rated upon various short-comings in his department:
celery, that wanted landing; asparagus grown to the con-
sistence of a walking-cane; branches of fruit-trees breaking
under their weight of produce ; and even weed-grown walks,
all were there, and upon all was he arraigned.
" The old story, of course, Graft," said she, slapping her foot
impatiently with her riding- whip — " you have too few people in
the garden ; but my remedy will be to lessen their number.
Now mark me. My uncle is coming home on Wednesday next
— just so — a full month earlier than you expected — and if the
garden be not in perfect order — if I find one of these things I
have complained of to-day "
"But, my Leddy, this is the season when, what wi' selliu'
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 break-
fast," said she, smiling to herself at the satisfaction witli
which he evidently heard this short reprieve. Nor was he
himself more anxious to escape censure than was she to throw
off the ungracious office of inflicting it.
"And now, for old Catty Broon, and a good breakfast to put
me in better temper," said she to herself, as she entered the
Castle and wended her way to the housekeeper's room.
"May I never — but I thought it was a dream when I heard
your voice outside," said old Catty, as she welcomed her young
mistress with heartfelt delight; "but when I saw them runnin'
here and runnin' there, I said, sure enough, she's come in
earnest."
" Quite true. Catty," said Mary, laughing. " I surprised the
garrison, and found them, I must say, in most sorry discipline;
but never mind, they'll have everything to rights by Wednesday,
when we are all coming back again."
" Was the bathing any use to my Lady, Miss ?" asked Catty,
but in a tone that combined a kind of half drollery with
earnest.
"She's better and worse, Catty; better in health, and
scarcely as good-humoured ; but, there's a good old soul., let me
CRO MARTIN". 5
have brealifast, for I have a great deal to do before I rida
back."
"But sure you are not goin' to ride back to Kilkieran
to-day?"
"That am I, Catty, and up to Kyle's Wood and the new
plantations before I go. Why, it's only fifteen miles, old lady ! "
" Faix, you're your father's daughter all over," said Catty,
with a look first at her and then at a water-coloured sketch
which occupied a place over the chimney, and represented a
fair-haired, handsome boy of about ten years of age.
" Was that ever like Papa?" asked the girl.
" 'Tis his born image, it is," said Catty ; and her eyes swam
with tears as she turned away.
" Well, to my thinking he is far better-looking in that pic-
ture ! " said Mary, pointing with her 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!" sighed Catty;
" and more nat'ral too, with the long hair on his neck and tha'
roguish laugh in his eye."
"And neitlier are very like that!" said Mary, pointing to a
third portrait, which represented a swarthy horseman with a
wide sombrero and a jacket all braided and buttoned in Mexican
fashion, a rifle at his back and a long lance in his hand, with
the heavy coil of a lasso at his saddle-peak.
"Arrah, that ain't a bit like him," said the old woman,
querulously, " for all that he said that it was."
Mary arose at the words, and perused aloud some lines which
were written at the foot of the picture, and which many and
many a time before she had conned over and repeated. They
ran thus : "Aye, Catty, though you won't believe it, that rough-
looking old rider, all bearded and 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 wi'itten since that?" sighed the girl, over
whom the dai'k shadow of orphanhood passed as she spoke.
" Twice only — the first of the two spoke of his coming home
again — but somehow he seemed to be put off it, and the next
letter was all about you, as if he didn't mean to come back !
My Lady and Master Barry never was fond of each other,"
<(6 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN,
muttered the old woman, after a pause, and as though giving^
an explanation to some problem that she was woi'kmg within
her own head.
*' But my uncle loved him," broke in Mary.
"And why wouldn't he. Warn't they twins? There wag
only a few minutes between them — long enough to make one a
rich man and leave the other only his own wits and the wide
world for a fortune ! Ayeh, ayeh ! " grumbled out the old crone,
"if they were both born poor they'd be livin' together like
brothers now, under the one roof — happy and comfortable; and
you and your cousin. Master Dick, would be playfellows and
companions, instead of his being away in Ingia, or America, or
wherever it is ! "
The young girl leaned her head on her hand, and appeared to
have fallen into a deep train of thought, for she never noticed
old Catty's remarks, nor indeed seemed conscious of her presence
for some time. " Catty," said she at length, and in a voice of
unusually calm earnestness, " never talk to me of these things
— they only fret me — tiiey set me a thinking of Heaven knows
what longings — for a home, that should be more like a real
home than this, though God knows my uncle is all that I could
wish in kindness and affection ; but — but " She stopped,
and her lip quivered, and her eyes grew heavy-looking ; and
then, with a kind of struggle against her emotions, she added
gaily, " Come and show me the dairy, Catty. I want to see all
those fine things in Wedgewood-ware that you got while we
were away, and then we'll have a peep at the calves, and by
that time it will be the hour for my levee."
" Faix, Miss," said the old woman, " they're all here 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 say-
ing, she left the room, and proceeding by many passages and
corridors, at length reached a remote part of the building,
which once had formed part of the ancient edifice. A suite of
low-ceiled rooms here opened upon a small grassy enclosure, all
of which had been appropriated by Mary to her own use. One
was a little library or study, neatly but very modestly furnished ;
adjoining it was her ofiice, where she transacted all business
matters ; and beyond that again was a large chamber, whose
Bole 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
X,
'' x^
CRO' MARTm. 7
apartment, and no sooner bad Mary thrown these wide, than a
burst of sahitations and greetings arose from a dense and motley
crowd assembled on the gi'ass outside, and who stood, sat, or lay
in every possible attitude and grouping, their faces all turned
towards the window wliere she was standing.
With true native volubility they poured out not only their
■welcomings, but a number of interjectional flatteries, supposed
not to be audible by her on whom they commented ; and tiius
her hair, her eyes, her teeth, her complexion, even her foot, were
praised with an enthusiasm of admiration that might have
shamed more polished worshippers.
These muttered eulog'ies 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 obser-
vation.
The company was entirely of the softer sex! — an epithet not
perhaps in the strictest accordance with an array of faces that
really might have shamed witchcraft. Bronzed, blear-eyed,
and weather-beaten, seamed with age and scarred with sickness,
shrewd-looking, suspicious, and crafty in every lineament, there
was yet one characteristic predominant over all — an intense and
abject submission, an almost slavish deference to every observa-
tion 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 look of stupid, stolid indifierence ; 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 ad-
verse fortune ever entirely subdues in their complex natures.
The expediency of misery had begotten the expediency of
morals, and in all the turnings and v/indings 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
8 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
the best and some of the worst features of Immanity warred
and strusfffled together. Who could dare to call them kind-
hearted or malevolent, grateful or ungrateful, tree-giving or
covetous, faithful or capricious, as a people ? Why, they were
all these, and fifty other things just as opposite besides, every
twenty-four hours of their lives ! Their moods of mind ranged
from one extreme to the other ; nothing had any permanency
amongst them but their wretchedness. Of all their qualities,
however, that which most obstructed their impi'ovement, ate
deepest into their natures, and suggested the worst fears for the
future, was suspicion. They trusted nothing — 'none — so that
every benefit bestowed on them came alloyed with its own share
of doubt; and all the ingenuity of their crafty minds found
congenial occupation in ascribing this or that motive to every
attempt to better their condition.
Mary Martin knew them — understood them — as well as most
people; few, indeed, out of their own actual station of life, had
seen so much of their domesticity. From her very childhood
she had been conversant with their habits and their ways. She
had seen them patient under the most trying afflictions, man-
fully 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 inter-
ference when they deemed it uncalled for, and rejecting kindness
when it came coupled with the suggestion of a duty.
By considerable skill, and no little patience, she had insinuated
a certain small amount of discipline into this disorderly mass.
She could not succeed in persuading them to approach her one
by one, or wait with any semblance of order while she was yet
occupied ; but she enforced conformity with at least one rule,
which was, that none should speak save in answer to some
question put by herself. This may seem a very small matter,
and yet to any one who knows tlie Irish peasant it will appear
little short of miraculous. The passion for discursiveness, the
tendency to make an effective theme of their misery, whatever
particular shape it may assume, is essentially national, and to
curb this vent to native eloquence was to oppose at once the
strongest impulse of their natures.
Nothing short of actual, tangible benefits could compensate
them for what they scrupled not to think was downright
cruelty; nor was it till after months of steady perseverance
on her jiart that her sy.^tem could be said to have attained any
success. Many of the most wretched declined to seek relief on
CRO' MARTIN. '
the conditions thus imposed. Some went as actual rebels, to
show their friends and neighbours how they would resist such
intolerance; others, ag-ain, professed that they only went out of
curiosity. Strange and incomprehensible people, who can brave
every ill of poverty, endure famine, and fever, and want, and
j'et will not bow the head to a luere matter of form, nor subject
themselves to the very least restriction when a passion or a
caprice stands opposed to it!
After about eighteen months of hard persistance the system
began at length to work ; the refractory spirits had either re-
frained from coming or had abandoned the opposition, and now
a semblance of order pervaded the motley assemblage. When-
ever the slightest deviation from the ritual occurred, a smart
tap of a small ivory ruler on the table imposed silence ; and
they who disregarded the warning were ordered to move by,
unattended to. Had a stranger been permitted, therefore, to
take a peep at these proceedings, he would have been astonished
at the rapidity with which complaints were heard, and wants
redressed; for, with an instinct thoroughly native, Mary Martin
appreciated the cases which came before her, and rarely or
never confounded the appeal of real suffering with the demands
of fictitious sorrow. Most of those who came were desirous of
tickets for Dispensary aid, for sickness has its permanent home
in the Irish cabin, and fever lurks amidst the damp straw and
the smoky atmosphere of the poor peasant's home. Some,
however, came for articles of clothing-, or for aid to make and
repair them ; others, for some little assistance in diet, barley
for a sick man's drink, a lemon, or au orange, to moisten the
parched lips of fever ; others, again, wanted leave to send a
grandchild or a niece to the school ; and, lastly, a few privi-
ledged individuals appeared to claim their weekly rations of
snuff or tobacco — little luxuries accorded to old age — comforts
that solaced many a dreary hour of a joyless existence. Amongst
all the crowded mass, there was not one whom Mary had not
known and visited in their humble homes. Thoroughly con-
versant with their condition and their necessities, she knew well
their real wants ; and if one less hopeful than herself might
have despaii'ed to render any actual relief to such wide-spread
misery, she was sanguine enough to be encouraged by the results
before her, small and few as they were, to think that possibly the
good time was yet to come when such efforts would be unneeded,
and when Ireland's industry, employed and rewarded, would
more than suffice for all the requirements of her humble poor.
10 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" Jane Moloney," 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 yonr oAvn cloak."
" May the heavens be your bed. May the holy "
" Catty Honan," cried Mary, with a gesture to enforce
silence. " Catty, j'our granddaughter never comes to the school
now that she has got leave. What's the reason of that? "
" Faix, your reverauce Miss, 'tis ashamed she is by rayson of
her clothes. She says Luke Cassidy's daughters have check
aprons."
"No more of this, Catty. Tell Eliza to come on Monday,
and if I'm satisfied with her, she shall have one too."
" Two ounces of tea for the Widow Jones."
" Ayeh," muttered an old hag. " But it's weak it makes it
without a little green in it ! "
" How are the pains, Sarah ? " asked Mary, turning to a
very feeble-looking old creature with crutches.
"Worse and worse, my Lady. With every change of the
weather, they come on afresh."
" The doctor will attend you, Sally, and if he thinks wine
good for yon, 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 dissipation with actual want.
"One-and-fourpence was all I got on it, and trouble enough
it gave me." These words she uttered with a heavy sigh, and
in a tone at once resentful and complaining.
*' Were my uncle to know that you had pawned your cloak,
Polly, he'd never permit you to cross his threshold."
" Ayeh, it's a great sin, to be sure," whined out the hag,
half insolently.
"A great shame and a great disgrace it certainly is; and I
shall stop all relief to you till the money be paid back."
" And why not ! " — " To be sure ! " — " Miss Mary is right? "
— "What else could she do? " broke in full twenty sycophant
voices, who hoped to prefer their own claims by the cheap ex.
pedient of condemning another.
"The Widow Hannigan."
CRO* MARTIN. 11
"Here, Miss," simpered out a srailiug", little old creature,
with a curtsey, as she held up a scroll of paper in her hand.
" What'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."
Mary smiled at the performance, which certainly did not
promise future excellence, and went on :
"Tell Mickey to mend his writing" ; his was the worst copy
in the class; and here's a card for your daughter's admission
into the Infirmary ^j'-the-way, widow, which of the boys
was it I saw dragging the river on Wednesday ? "
" Faix, Miss, I don't know. Sure it was none of ours would
dare to "
" Yes they would, any one of them ; but I'll not permit it ;
and what's more, widow, if it occur again, I'll withdraw the
leave I gave to fish with a rod."
" Teresa Johnson, your niece is a very good child, and pro-
mises to be very handy with her needle. Let her hem these
handkerchiefs, and there's a frock for herself. My uncle sa3'-s
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 — tliat dreary series of
wants and privations to which extreme destitution subjects a
long-neglected and helpless people? There was nothing from
the cradle to the coffin, from the first wailing wants of infancy
to the last requirement of doting old age, that they did not
stand in need of.
A melancholy spectacle, indeed, was it to behold an entire
population so steeped in misery, so utterly inured to wretched-
ness, that they felt no shame at its exposure, but rather a sort
of self-exultation at any opportunity of displaying a more than
ordinary amount of human suffering and sorrow ; — to hear them
how they caressed their affiictions, how they seemed to fondle
their misfortunes, vicing with each other in calamity, and bid-
ding higher and higher for a little human sympathy.
Mary Martin set herself stoutly to combat this practice, in-
cluding', 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,
12 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
and paraded sentiments of displeasure and condemnation when
her very heart was bursting with pity and compassion. No
wonder was it, then, that she rejoiced when this painful task
was completed, and she found herself in the more congenial
duty of looking over the " young stock," and listening to old
Barny's predictions about yearlings and two-year olds.
This young girl, taught to read by a lady's maid, and to sew
by a housekeeper, possessed scarcely any of the resources so
usual to those in her own condition, and was of sheer necessity
thrown upon herself for occupatioa ami employment. Her in-
tense sympathy with the people, her fondness for them even in
their prejudices, had suggested the whole story of her life.
Her uncle took little or no interest in the details of his pro-
perty. The indolence in which he first indulged from liking,
became at last a part of his vei'y nature, and he was only too
well pleased to see the duty undertaken by another which had
no attraction for himself.
"Miss Mary will look to it"— "Tell my niece of it"— "Miss
Martin will give her orders," were the invariable replies by
which he escaped all trouble, and suffered the whole weight
of labour and responsibility to devolve upon a young- girl
scarcely out of her teens, until gradually, from the casual care
of a flower-garden, or a childish pleasure in giving directions,
she had succeeded to the almost unlimited rule of her uncle's
bouse and his great estate.
Mr. Mttrtin was often alarmed at some of his niece's measures
of reform. The large sums drawn out of bank, the great ex-
penses incurred in weekly wages, the vast plans of building,
draining, road-making, and even bridging, terrified him ; while
the steward, Mr. Henderson, slily insinuated, that though
Miss Mary was a wonderful manager, and the " best head he
ever knew, except my lady's," she was dreadfully imposed on
by the people — but, to be sure, " how could a young lady be up
to them ? " But she was up to them, aye, and more still, she
was up to Mr. Henderson himself, notwithstanding his mild,
douce manner, his cautious reserve, and his unbroken self-pos-
Bession.
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 ci'afty and subtle natures that suri-ounded her. Mock
misery, mock industry, mock enlightenment, mock conviction,
even mock submission and resignation, had all their partial sue-
cesses j and she was entrapped by many a pretence that would
ceo' martin. 13
have Lad no chance of imposing on Mr. Hendei'son, Still,
there was a credit side to this account, wherein his name would
not have figured. There were traits of the people, which he
neither could have understood or valued. There were instincts
— hard struggling efforts, fighting their way through all the
adverse circumstances of their poverty — that he never could
have estimated, much less could he have speculated on the
future to which they might one day attain.
If Mary was heart and soul devoted to her object — if she
thought of nothing else — if all her dreams by night and all her
daily efforts were in the cause, she was by no means insensible
to the flattery which constantly beset her. She accepted it
readily and freely, laughing at what she persuaded herself to
believe was the mere exuberance of that national taste for praise.
Like most warm and impulsive natures, she was greedy of ap-
probation ; even failure itself was consoled by a word of enco-
mium on the effort. She liked to be thought active, clever, and
energetic. She loved to hear the muttered voices which at any
moment of difficulty said, " Faix, Miss Mary will find the way
to it ;" or, " Sure it won't baffle her, anyhow." This confidence
in her powers stimulated and encouraged her, often engendering
the very resources it imputed.
She might have made many a mistake in the characters of
those for whom she was interested — conceived many a false
hope — nurtured many a delusive expectation ; but in the scheme
of life she had planned out for herself, the exalting sense of a
duty more than recompensed her for every failure : and if any
existence could be called happy, it was hers — the glorious ex-
citement of an open-air life, with all its movements and anima-
tion. There Avas that amount of adventui'e and enteriirise
which gave a character of romantic interest to her undertak-
ings, and thus elevated her to a degree of heroism to herself,
and then, knowing no fatigue, she was again in the saddle, and,
straight as the crow flies, over the county to Kyle's wood.
A solitary cabin or two stood in the midst of the wild, bleak
plain, and by these she paused for a few minutes. The watchful
eyes that followed her as she went, and the muttered blessings
that were wafted after her, proclaimed what her mission had
been, and showed how she had for a brief space thrown a gleam
of sunshine over the darksome gloom of some sad existence.
"God bless her! she's always cheerful and light-hearted," said
the poor peasant, as he leaned on his spade to look after her;
"and one feels better the whole day after the sight of her !"
X4t THE MAR'OmS OF CRO' MARTIH,
CHAPTER IT.
KILKIERAN BAT.
In one of the many indentures of Kilkieran Bay — favourecl
by a southerly aspect and a fine sandy beach, sheltered by two
projecting- headlands — stood a little row of cabins, originally
the dwellings of poor fishermen, but now, in summer-time, the
resort of the neighbouring gentry, who frequented the coast for
sea-bathing. There was little attempt made by the humble
owners to accommodate the habits of the wealthy visitors.
Some slight effort at neatness, or some modest endeavour at
internal decoration, by a little \\;indow-curtain or a rickety-
chest of drawers, were the very extent of these pretensions.
Year by year the progress of civilisation went thus lazily
forward ; and, far from finding fault with this backwardness, it
vras said that the visitors were just as well satisfied. Many
Loped to see the place as they remembered it in their own
childhood — many were not sorry to avail themselves of its
inexpensive life and simple habits — and some were more
pleased that its humble attractions could draw no strangers to
sojourn there to mock by their Eiore 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
l)retension. It was a handsome bathing-lodge, with a long
verandah towards the sea, and an effort, uot very successful,
however, at a little flower-garden in front. The spacious bay-
wiudows, which opened in French fashion, were of plate-glass;
the deep projecting eave was ornamented with a handsome
corMicc; and the entire front had been richly decorated by
entablatures in stucco and common cement. Still, somehow,
there seemed to be a spiteful resistance in the climate to such
efforts at embellishment. The wild hurricanes that swept over
the broad Atlantic were not to be withstood by the frail timbers
KILKIEBAN BAY. 15
of the Gothic verandah. The sweeping gusts that sent foam-
ing spray high over the rocky cliffs, shattered the costly panes,
and smashed even the mullions that held them ; while frag-
ments 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
alread}' dilapidated and ruinous-looking. A stout stone wall
]iad replaced the trellised woodwork of one side of the porch ;
some of the windows were firmly barricaded with boards on
the outside; and iron cramps, and other appliances equally
unsightly on the roof, showed by what means the slates were
enabled to resist the storms.
The aspect of consistent poverty never inspires ridicule. It
is shabby gentility alone that provokes the smile of sarcastic
meaning; and thus the simple dwellings of the fishermen, in
all their humility, offered nothing to the eye of critical remark.
There seemed abundant absurdity in this attempt to defy
climate and aspect, place and circumstance; and every effl)rt 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.
Kirk had not only improvised a beautiful villa, with fuchsias
and clematis, and moss-roses clustering on it, but he had
invented an Italian sky, and given a Lago Maggiore tint to the
very Atlantic. Your fashionable architect is indeed a finished
romancer, and revels in the license of his art v/ith a most
voluptuous abandonment.
It was now, however, late in the autumn : some warnings of
the approaching equinox had already been felt, and tlie leaden
.sky above, and the dark green, sullen sea beneath, above which
a cold north-wester swept gustily, recalled but little of the
artistic I'esemblance.
The short September day was drawing to a close, and it was
just that dreary interval between day and duUk, 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 neighbour.
16 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
hood; but as the summer wore over, their places were > coupied
by a kind of "half-price company" — shopkeepers anc. smart
residents of Oughterard, who waited for their pleasurr 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. Ci'onan 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 Galwaij Intelligence, which,
it is iDut fair to say, was, from inverted letters and press
blunders, about as difficult reading as any elderly lady ever con-
fronted.
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 iu
continual reference to some former state of existence, which, to
hear her, seemed almost borroAved 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 watet" every summer for thirty years, fully
determined to bathe, but never able to summon courage to go
in. He was a kind-hearted, jolly old fellow, who loved strong
punch and long whist, and cared very little how the world went
on, if these enjoyments were available.
Then there was Miss Busk, a very tall, thin, ghostly
personage, with a pinkish nose and a pinched lip, but whose
manners were deemed the very type of high breeding, for she
curtseyed or bowed at almost minute intervals during an
" Evening," and had a variety of personal reminiscences of the
Peerage. She was of "an excellent family," Mrs. Cronan
■ always said, and though reduced by circumstances — she was
the Swan and Edgar of Oughterard — "was company for the
Queen herself."
The fourth hand in the whist-table was usually taken by
Mrs. Nelligan, wife of "Pat Nelligan" — the great shopkeeper
of Oughterard — and who, though by no means entitled on
heraldic grounds to take her place in any such exalted
company, was, by the happy accident of fortune, elevated
to this proud position. Mrs. Nelligan being unwell, her place
was, on the present occasion, supplied by her son, and of him I
would fain say a few words, since the reader is des^^iued to bear
KILKIESAN BAY. 17
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 lai'ge and massively shaped, and the
temples were strong and square, dee^jly 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 con-
versation, and only when roused by some theme that he cai-ed
for, or stimulated by some assertion that he dissented from,
was he heard to burst forth into a rapid flew 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 favourite with the society of Kilkieran; some
thought him downright stupid; others regai'ded 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 i^alpable on the surface; and many
were heard to remark, that he seemed to forget who he was,
and that "though he was a College student, he ought to
remember he was only Pat Nelligan's son."
If he never courted their companionship, he as little resented
their estrangement from him. He spent his days and no small
share of his nights iu study ; books supplied to him the place
of men, and in their converse he forgot the world. His father's
vanity had entered him as a Fellow-Commoner in the University,
and even this served to widen the interval between him and
those of his own age — his class-fellows regarded his presence
amongst them as an intolerable piece of low-bred presumption.
Nor was this unkindly feeling diminished when they saw him,
term after term, carry away the prizes of each examination;
for equally in science as in classics was he distinguished, till at
length it became a current excuse for failure when a man said,
"I was in Nelligan's division."
It is not impossible that his social isolation contributed much
to his success. For him there were none of the amusements
3
18 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
which occupy those of his own age. The very fact of his
!Fellow-Commoner's gown separated him as widely from one
set of his fellow-students as from the other, and thus was he
left alone with his ambition. As time wore on, and his
successes obtained wider notoriety, some of those in authority
in the University appeared to be disposed to make advances to
him ; but he retreated modestly from these marks of notice,
Ehrouding' himself in his obscurity, and pleading the necessity
for study. At length came the crowning act of his College
career, in the examination for the gold medal, and although no
competitor was bold enough to dispute the prize with him, he
was obliged to submit to the ordeal. It is rarely that the
public vouchsafes any interest in the details of University
honours ; but this case proved an exception, and almost every
journal of the capital alluded in terms of high panegyric to
the splendid display he made on that occasion.
In the very midst of these ti-iumphs, young Nelligan arrived
at his father's house in Oughterard, to enjoy the gratification
ihis success had diffused at home, and rest himself after his
sevei'e labours. Little as old Pat Nelligan or his neighbours
knew of University honours, or the toil which won them, there
was enough in the very publicity of his son's career to make
him a proud man. He at least knew that Joe had beaten them
all ; that none could hold a candle to him ; " that for nigh a
century such answering had not been heard on the bench."
This was the expression of a Dublin journal, coupled with the
partisan regret that, by the bigoted statutes of the College,
genius of such order should be denied the privilege of obtain-
ing a fellowship.
If young Nelligan retired, half in pride, half in bash fulness,
from the notice of society in Dublin, he was assuredly little
disposed to enter into the gaieties and dissipations of a small
country town existence. The fulsome adulation of some, the
stupid astonishment of others, but, worse than either, tho
vulgar assumption that his success was a kind of pai'ty triumph
— a blow dealt by the plebeian against the patrician — the
Papist against the Protestant — shocked and disgusted him, and
he was glad to leave Oughterard and accomj^any his mother to
the sea-side. She Avas an invalid of some years' standing — a
poor, frail, simple-hearted creature, who, after a long, struggling
life of hardship and toil, saw herself in affluence and comfort,
and yet could not bring her mind to believe it true. As little
could she comprehend the strange fact of Joe's celebrity — of
^
IILKIEBAN BAT. l'>
his T>- iinapers, and his health beinj^ clrank aft
f-iion lab
1 be te"''
>ies uau now
•avity, held the chief place irt the
. out on tl
fair ?
obuTAfL
-uuni-^ vt:e ,T:ni.ft..'. , wc--,
KILKIERAN BAT. i9
his name figuring in newspapers, and his health being drunk at
a public dinner in his native town. To her he was invaluable;
the very tenderest of nurses, and the best of all companions.
She didn't care for books, even those of the most 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 execu-
tion as such an office 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 astonished his mother,
and led that good lady to believe that Trinity College must not
have been fertile in genius when poor Joe was regarded as one
of the great luminaries of his time. "Ah," would she say, "it
he had his father's head, it would be telling him ! but, poor
boy, he remembers nothing!"
This digi-ession — far longer than I cared to make it — but
which has grown to its present extent under my hands, will
explain young Nelligan's presence at Mrs. Cronan's " Tea,"
where already a number of other notables had now assembled,
and were gracefully disj)ersed 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-con-
tested " hit" of backgammon was being fought out on the bed,
where, for lack of furniture, the combatants had established
themselves.
The success of an evening party is not always proportionate
to the means employed to secure it. Very splendid salons,
costly furniture, and what newspapers call " all the delicacies
of the season," are occasionally to be found in conjunction with
very dull company; while a great deal of enjoyment, and much
social pleasure, are often to be met with where the material
resources have been of the fewest and most eimple kind. Oc
the present occasion there was a great deal of laughing, and a
fair share of love-making : some scolding at whist, and an
abundance of scandal, at least of that cut- and- thrust at
character which amuses the speakers themselves, and is never
supposed to damage those who are the object ®f it. All th^
company who had frequented the port — as Kilkieran was
called — during the season, were passed in review, and a number
20 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
of racy anecdotes interclianged about their rank, morals,
fortune, and pretensions, A very general impression seemed to
prevail, that in the several points of climate, scenery, social
advantages, and amusements, Kilkieran might stand a favour-
able comparison with the first watering-places, not alone of
England, but the Continent; and after various discursive
reasons why its fame had not equalled its deserts, there was an
almost unanimous declaration of opinion that the whole fault
lay with the Martins; not, indeed, that the speakers were very
logical in their arguments, since some were heard to deplore
the change from the good old times, when everybody was
satisfied to live anywhere, and anyhow; when there was no
road to the place but a bridle-path ; not a loaf of bread to be
had within twelve miles ; no post-ofEce ; 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 Bod-
kin, " 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 Bewspapers."
" Just like him," said Mrs. Cronan ; " but indeed I think it's
my Lady does it all."
" I differ from you, ma'am," said Miss Busk, with a bland
smile; "I attribute the inauspicious influence to another."
" You mean Miss Martin ? " said Mrs. Ci'onan.
" 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 my-
self 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. Culle-
nane's — well, when I was in the very middle of my explanation,
who should come into the room but Miss Martin "
" Dressed in the old brown riding-habit ? " interposed a fat
old lady, with one eye.
"Yes, Mrs. Few, in the old brown riding-habit. She came
up to the table, with a saucy laugh in her face, and said, ' Why
uncle, are you going to give a fancy ball ! '
*' ' It is the last arrival from Paris, Miss,' said I, ' the Orleans
mantle, which, though not a "costume de Chasse," is accounted
very becoming.'
KUKIERAN BAT. ^1
***Ab, you're laughing at my old habit, Miss Busk,' said she,
seeing how I eyed her ; * and it really is very shabby, but I in-
tend to give Dan Leary a commission to replace it one of these
days.'"
" Dan Leaiy, 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 people are going half
naked!'"
" Positively indecent — downright indelicate ! " shuddered Mrs.
Cronan.
"And did Martin agree with her?" asked the Captain,
" I should like to know when he dared to do otherwise. Why,
between my Lady and the niece he can scarcely call his life his
own."
" They say he has a cruel time of it," sighed Mr. Clinch, the
revenue-officer, who had some personal exiDcrieuce of domestic
slavery.
" 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."
" Faith, and he's much altered from what he was when a boy,
if any one rules him," said the Captain. " I was at school with
him and his twin-brother Bany ; 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 whent 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
22 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARXm,
Captain; "and they say that Martin bea^a a grudge against
you to this day."
" That would be hard," sighed the meeB. jOoctor, " for I had
nothing to do with it, or my father either. Bat it cost him
dearly ! " added he, mournfully.
*' You know best. Doctor, whether it is true or not ; but ho
certainly wasn't your friend when you tried for the Fever
Hospital."
" That was because Pat Nelligan was on my committee," said
the Doctor.
" And was that sufficient to lose you Mr. Martin's support,
sir?" asked young Nelligan, with a degree of astonishment in
his face, that, joined to the innocence of the question, caused a
general burst of hearty laughter,
" The young gentleman knows more about cuhic sections, it
appears, than of what goes on in his own town," said the
Captain, "Why, sir, your father is the most independent man
in all Oughterard ; and, if I know Godfrey Martin, he'd give a
thousand guineas this night to have him out of it."
A somewhat animated "rally" followed this speech, in which
different speakers gave their various reasons why Martin ought,
or ought not, to make any sacrifice to put down the spirit of
which Pat Nelligan was the chief champion. These arguments
were neither cogent nor lucid enough to require repeating ; nor
did they convey to Joseph himself, with all his anxiety for in-
formation, the slightest knowledge on the subject discussed.
Attention was, however, drawn oS" 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, over-
turning chairs and extinguishing candles, drove them suddenly
back again ; and, half laughing at the confusion, half cursing
the weather, the party barricaded the door, and returned to
their places.
" Of course it was Miss Martin ; who else would be out at
this time of the night?" said Mrs. Clinch.
"And without a servant ! " exclaimed Miss Busk.
" Indeed, you may well make the remark, ma'am," said Mrs.
Cronan. "The young lady was brought up in a fashion that
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 j " if
KILKIERAN BAY 23
she did, I don't think there's one here would like to have followed
her."
" I wouldn't be her hoi'se ! " said one — " Nor her groom ! "
muttered another; and thus, gradually lashing themselves into
a wild indignation, they opened at last a steady fire upon the
young lady — her habits, her manners, and her appearance, all
coming in for a share of criticism ; and, although a few modest
amendments were put in favour of her hoi'semanshiji and her
good looks, the motion was carried that no young lady ever
took such liberties before, and that the meeting desired to record
their strongest censure on the example thus extended to their
own young people.
If young Nelligan ventured upon a timid question of what it
was she had done, he was met by an eloquent chorus of half a
dozen voices, recounting mountain excursions which no young
lady had ever made before; distant spots visited, dangers in-
curred, storms encountered, perils braved, totally unbecoming to
her in her rank of life, and showing that she had no personal
respect, nor, as Miss Busk styled it — " a proper sense of the
dignity of woman ! "
" 'Twas down at Mrs. Nelligan's, ma'am, Miss Mary was,"
said Mrs. Cronan's maid, who had been despatched special to
make inquiry on the subject.
"At my mother's!" exclaimed Joseph, reddening, without
knowing in the least why. And now a new diversion occurred,
while all discussed every possible and impossible reason for this
singular fact, since the family at the "Nest" maintained no in-
tercourse whatever with their neighbours, not even seeming, by
any act of their lives, to acknowledge their very existence.
Young Nelligan took the opportunity to make his escape
during the debate; and as the society offers nothing- very
attractive to detain us, it will be as well if we follow him,
while he hastened homeward along the dark and storm-lashed
beach. He had about a mile to go, and, short as was this dis-
tance, it enabled him to think over what he had just heard,
strange and odd as it seemed to his ears. Wholly given up, aa
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 con-
dition 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
©f his class, with the jealousy caused by his successes, he had
24 THE MARTINS OT CRO MARTIN.
totally overlooked the disparagement men exhibited towards the
son of the little country shopkeeper, and never knew of his dis-
qualification for a society whose precincts he had not tried to
pass. The littleness, the unpurpose-like vacuity, the intense
vulgarity of his Oag-hterard 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 ruminatingf
over these problems — knottier far to him than many a complex
formula, or many a disputed reading of a Greek play — he at
last reached the solitary little cabin where his mother lived.
It is astonishing how difficult men of highly cultivated and
actively practised minds, find it to comprehend the little turnings
and windings of commonplace life, the jealousies and the rivalries
of small people. They search for motives where there are merely
impulses, and look for reasons when there are simple passions.
It was only as he lifted the latch that he remembered how
deficient he was in all the information his mother would expect
from him. Of the fortunes of the whist-table he actually knew
nothing, and had he been interrogated as to the "toilette" of
the party, his answers would have betrayed a lamentable
degree of ignorance. Fortunately for him, his mother did not
display her habitual anxiety on these interesting themes. She
neither asked after the Captain's winnings — he was the terror
of the party — nor whether Miss Busk astonished the company
by another new gown. Poor Mrs. Nelligan was too brimful of
another subject to admit of one particle of exti'aneous matter
to occupy her. With a proud consciousness, however, of her
own resources, she affected to have thoughts for other things,
and asked Joe if he passed a pleasant day?
" Yes, very — middling — quite so — rather stupid, I thought,"
replied he, in his usual half-connected manner, when unable to
attach his mind to the question before him.
" Of course, my dear, it's very unlike what you're used to up
in Dublin, though I believe that Captain Bodkin, when he goes
there, always dines with the Lord-Lieutenant ; and Miss Busk,
I know, is second cousin to Ram of Swainestown, and there is
nothing better than that in Ireland. I say this between
ourselves, for your father can't bear me to talk of family or
connexions — though I am sure I was always brought up to
think a great deal about good blood, and if my father M'as a
rinnert)', my mother was a Moore of Crockbawn, and her
family never looked at her for marrying my father."
" Indeed ! " said Joe, in » dreamy semi-consciousness.
KILKIERAN BAT. 25
"It's true what I'm telling- you. She often said it to me
herself, and told me wliat a blessing it was, through all her
troubles and trials in life — and she had her share of them, for
my father was often in drink, and very cruel at times — ' it
supports me,' she used to say, ' to remember who I am, and the
stock I came from, and to know that there's not one belonging-
to me would speak to me, nor look at the same side of the
road with me, after what I done; and Matty,' said she to me,
' if ever it happens to you to marry a man beneath you in life,
always bear in mind that, no matter how he treats you, you're
better than him.' And, indeed, it's a great support and
comfort to one's feelings after all," said she with a deep sigh.
" I'm certain of it," muttered Joe, who had not followed one
word of the harangue.
" But mind that you never tell your father so. Indeed, I
wouldn't let on to him what happened this evening."
"What was that?" asked the young man, roused by the
increased anxiety of her manner.
" It was a visit I had, my dear," replied the old lady, with a
simpering consciousness that she had something to reveal — " it
was a visit I had paid me, and by an elegant young lady, too."
"A young lady? Not Miss Cassidy, mother. I think she
left yesterday morning."
" No, indeed, my dear. Somebody very different from Miss
Cassidy ; and you might guess till you were tired before you'd
think of Miss Martin."
" ]\[iss Martin !" echoed Joe.
" Exactly so. Miss Martin of Cro' Martin ; and the way it
happened was this. I was sitting here alone in the I'oom after
my tea — for I sent Biddy out to borrow the Intelligence for me
— and then comes a sharp knock to the door, and I called out,
• Come in,' but instead of doing so there was another rapping,
louder than before, and I said, ' Bother you, can't you lift the
latch ;' and then I heard 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 moi'ning,' said she, * I overtook poor Billy with the post ;
26 ■ THE MARTINS OF CRO* MABTITT.
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 iu
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.
" Indeed, then, I did, Joe ; and I'd like to know why I wouldn't.
Is it a shame or a disgrace to us ! At any rate, she didn't think
so, for she said, ' You must be very proud of him ;' and I told
her so I was, and that he was as good as he was clever; and,
moreover, that the newspapers said the time was coming when
men like young Nelligan would soar their way up to honours
and distinctions in 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
oppression as could throw obstacles in the way of deserving
merit, she heartily hoped it might prove powerless ; and then
she got up to wish me good evening. I thought, at first, a little
stiffly, that is, more haughty in her manner than at first ; but
when I arose to see her out, and she saw I was lame, she pres-
sed me down into my chair, and said in such a kind voice, ' You
mustn't stir, my dear Mrs. Nelligan. I, who can find my road
over half of the county, can surely discover my way to the
door.' 'Am I ever like to have the happiness of seeing you
again, Miss?' said I, as I held her hand in mine. 'Certainly,
if it would give you the very slightest pleasure,' said she, pres-
sing my hand most cordially ; and with that we parted. Indeed,
I scarce knew she was gone when I heard the clattering of the
horse over the shingle, for she was away in a gallop, dark as the
night was. Maybe," added the old lady, with a sigh — " maybe,
I'd have thought it was all a dream, if it wasn't that I found that
glove of hers on the floor ; she dropped it, I suppose, going out.'*
KILKIESAN BAT 27
Young Nelligan took up the glove with a strange feeling of
bashful reverence. It was as though he was touching a sacred
relic ; and he stood gazing on it steadfastly for some seconds.
" I'll send it over to the house by Biddy, with my compli-
ments, and to know how the family is, in the morning," said
Mrs. Nelligan, with the air of one who knew the value of con-
ventional usages,
"And she'll make some stupid blunder or other," replied Joe,
impatiently, "that will cover us all with Bharae. No, mother,
I'd rather go with it myself than that."
" To be sure, and why not," said Mrs. Nelligan. " There's no
reason why you should be taking up old quarrels against the
Martins ; for my part, I never knew the country so pleasant as
it used to be long ago, when we used to get leave to go pic-
Dicking on the grounds of Cro' Martin, up to the Hermitage, as
they called it; and now the gates are locked and barred like a
gaol, and nobody allowed in without a ticket."
"Yes, I'll go myself with it," said Joe, who heard nothing
of bis mother's remark, but was following out the track of his
own speculations. As little did he attend to the various sug-
gestions she threw out for his guidance and direction, the
several topics to which he might, and those to which he must
not, on any account, allude,
" Not a word, for your life, Joe, about the right of pathway
to Clune Abbey, and take care you say nothing about the mill-
race at Glandaff, nor the shooting in Kyle's wood. And if by
any chance there should be a talk about the tolls at Oughterard,
say you never beard 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 sm-e it isn't your fault if it's not true ! " And with this
philosophic reflection, Mrs. Nelligan wished her son good night
and retired.
28 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTM.
CHAPTER III
AN AUTUMN MORNING IN THE WEST.
The Osprey's Nest was, I have said, like a direct cliallenge
hurled at the face of western gales and Atlantic storms. With
what succes, its aspect of dilapidation and decay but too plainly
betrayed. The tangled seaweed, that hung in dripping festoons
over the porch — the sea-shells that rattled against the window-
panes, seemed like an angry denunciation of the attempt to
brave the elements by the mere appliances of ease and luxury.
It was better, however, in the inside, where, in a roomy
apartment, most comfortably furnished, a lady and gentleman
sat at breakfast; the table stood in a little projection of the
room, admitting of a wide sea-view over the bay and the distant
islands of Lettermullen, but as carefully excluded all prospect of
the port — a locality which held no high place in the esteem of the
lady of the house, and which, by ignoring, she half fancied she
had annihilated. Wild promontories of rocks, jutting out here
and there, broke the coast line, and marked the shore with a
foaming stream of white water, as the ever-restless sea dashed
over them. The long booming swell of the great ocean bounded
into many a rocky cavern with a loud report like thunder, and
issued forth again with a whole cataract of falling stones, that
rattled like the crash of small-arms. It was unceasing deafen-
ing clamour in the midst of 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 perfectly regular, and finely cut, bearing the
impress of a proud and haughty spirit, that never quailed beneath
the conflict of a long life, and even yet showed a firm front to
fortune. Her hair was white as snow, and bs she wore it drawn
AN AUTUMN MORNING IN THE WEST. 29
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 Dorotliea Martin had been a beauty and an Earl's
daughter; two facts that not even the seclusion of the wild
west could erase from her memory.
Mr. Martin himself was no unworthy "pendant" to this
portrait. He was tall and stately, with a lofty forehead, and
temples finely and well fashioned, while full, deep-set blue eyes,
of the very sternest determination, and a mouth every line of
which betrayed firmness, gave the character to a face that also
could expand into the most genial good fellowship, and become
at times the symbol of a pleasant and convivial Irish gentle-
man. In his youth he had been a beau of the Court of
Versailles. Scandal had even coupled his name with that of
Marie Antoinette; and more truthful narratives connected him
with some of the most extravagant adventures of that pro-
fligate and brilliant period. After a career of the wildest
dissipation and excess, he had married, late in life, the daughter
of the Earl of Exmere, one of the proudest and poorest names
in the British Peerage. Two or three attempts to shine in the
world of London — not as successful as they were expected to
have proved — an effort at ascendancy in Irish j^olitical life,
also a failure, coupled with disappointment on the score of an
only brother, who had married beneath him, and was reputed
to have "lost himself," seemed to have disgusted Godfrey
Martin with the world, and he had retired to his lonftly
mansion in the west, which now for eighteen years he had
scarcely quitted for a single day.
His only son had joined a cavahy regiment in India a few
years before the period our story opens, and which, I may now
state, dates for about four or fivc-and-twenty years back; but
his family included a niece, the only child of his brother, and
whose mother had died in giving her birth.
Between Mr. Martin and Lady Dorothea, as they sat at
breakfast, little conversation passed. He occupied himself with
the newly-arrived newspapers, and she perused a mass of letters
which had just come by that morning's post; certain scraps of
the intellig'ence gleaned from either of these sources forming
the only subjects of conversation between them.
30 IHE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
" So, they have resolved to have a new Parliament. I knew
it would come to that — I always said so — and, as usual, the
dissolution finds us uuprepared."
" Plaiitagenet'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 sup^iort to Kilmorris again."
" Do you mean, after his conduct about the hai'bour, and the
shameful way he sneaked out of the Port Martin project?"
" Find anything better, Madam, there is the diiEculty.
Kilmoi'ris is a gentleman, and no Radical; and, as times go,
these are rather rare qualities."
" Lady Sarah Upton's match is off," said Lady Dorothea,
reading from a note beside her. " Sir Joseph insisted upon the
uncontrolled possession of all her Staffordshire property."
" And perfectly right."
" Perfectly wrong to give it to him."
" A fool if he married without it."
" A mean ci-eature she, to accept him on such terms."
*' The woman is eight-and-thirty — if not more. I remember
her at Tunbridge. Let me see, what year was it ?"
" I detest dates, and abhor chronologies. Reach me the
marmalade," said Lady Dorothea, superciliously.
""What's this balderdash here from the Galivaij Indicator.
* The haughty and insolent, aye, and ignorant aristocracy will
have to swallovr 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 povinds I'd fail to get a verdict against him if I
prosecuted him to-morrow," said Martin, as he dashed the
newspaper to the ground, and stamped his foot upon it. "We
are constantly reading diatribes about absentee landlords, and
the evils of neglected property — but I ask, what inducements
are there held out to any gentleman to reside on his estate, if
every petty scribbler of the press can thus attack and assail
him with impunity ? "
"Is that Mary I see yonder?" asked Lady Dorothea,
languidly, as she lifted her double eye-glass, and then suffered
it to fall from her fingers.
AN AUTUiTN' MORXIXG IN THE WEST. 31
" So it is, by Jove ! " cried Martin, springing- np, and
appi'oaching the window. " I wish she'd not venture out in
that small boat in this treacherous season. What a swell there
is, too. The wind is from the sea."
" She's coming in, I fancy," drawled out Lady Dorothea.
"How is she to do it, though?" exclaimed he, hurriedly;
" the sea is breaking clear over the piers of the 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 window, Martin stepped out on the rocks,
over which the white foam flashed by like snow. "What are
they at, Peter — what are they trying to do?" cried he to an
old fisherman, who, with the coil of a net he was just mending,
on his arm, had now come down to the shore to watch the
boat.
" They're doing right, your Honour," said he, touching his
cap respectfully ; " 'tis Loony mj' Lady has in the boat, and
there's no better man in trouble I He's just going to beat out
a bit, and then he'll run in under the shelter of the blue rocks.
Faix, she's a fine boat then for her size — look at her now ! "
But Martin had covered his eyes with his hand, while his
lips murmured and moved rapidly.
"May I never, but they're letting out the reef!" screamed
the old man in terror.
"More sail, and in such a sea!" cried Martin in a voice of
horror.
"Aye, and right 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 Martin, glad to catch at this gleam of
confidence.
" I know it well, your Honour. I remember one day, off
Lettermullen, it was worse than this. Hurrah ! " screamed he
out suddenly, " she took in a great sea that time ! "
" Get out a boat, Peter, at once ; what are we standing here
for?" cried Martin, angrily; "man a boat this instant."
" Sure no boat could get out to sea with this wind, sir,"
remonstrated the old man, mildly ; " she'd never leave the surf,
if ye had forty men at her ! "
"Then, what's to be done ?"
" Just let them alone, themselves two, know as well what tc
do as any pair in Ireland, and are as cool besides. There now,
32 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
she's putting" her about, as I said, and she'll run for the creek."
The frail boat, a mere speck upon the dark green ocean, seemed
now to fly, as with a slackened sheet she darted over the water.
Her course was bent for a little cove, concealed from view by a
rugged promontory of rock, up which the old fisherman now
clambered with the alacrity of a younger man. Martin tried
to follow, but, overcome by emotion, he was unable, and sat
down upon a ledge of rock, burying his face within his hands.
By this time the whole fishing population of the little
village had gathered on the beach around the cove, to watch
the boat as she came in : numbers had gone out to meet her,
and stood up to their waists in the white and boiling surf, ready
to seize upon the skiff and run her high and dry upon the sand.
Even they were obliged to be lashed together by a rope, lest
the receding waves shoiild carry them out to sea, or the " under
tow" suck them beneath the surface. As the boat came within
speaking distance, a wild shout arose from the shore to " down
sail" and suffer her to come in on her way alone; but with all
the canvas spread, they came flying along, scarce seeming more
than to tip the waves as they skipped over them, while a
shower of spray appeared to cover them as the sea broke upon
the stern. Instead of rendering aid, the utmost the fishermen
could do was to clear a path amongst them for the skiff to pass,
as with lightning speed she flitted by and drove her bow high
up on the hard beach.
A wild glad cheer of joy and welcome burst from the hearty
fishermen as they crowded about the young girl, who stepped
out of the boat with a heavy bundle in her arms. Her hair
hung in great masses over her neck and shoulders, her cheeks
were flushed, and her dark eyes gleamed with all the excite-
ment 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 pat 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 weatlier if he wants
to see his grandmother. And," added she, laughing, "I
scarcely think you'll catch me going to sea again with so
precious a cargo. Poor little man," and she patted his ruddy
sheeks, " he behaved so well, like a stout fisherman's son as he
is — never showed fear for a moment."
A murmur of delighted hearts ran through the crowd, some
AN AUTUMN MORNING IN THE WEST. 33
thinking of the child, but many more in warm admiration of
the brave and beautiful young gii-l before them. "Loony," said
she to her boatman, " when you've got the tackle to rights,
come up to the house for your breakfast.'" And with that, and
a few words of grateful recognition as she passed, she clambered
up the rock and hastened homeward.
As for her uncle, no sooner had he heard of her safe arrival
on shore than he hurried back, anxious to reach the house before
her. For a considerable time back Martin had schooled himself
into an apparent indiiference about his niece's perils. Lady
Dorothea had probably given the initiative to this feeling, by
constantly asserting that the young lady would incur few risks
when they ceased to create alarm.
It was a somewhat ungracious theory, and excited in Martin's
mind, when he first heard it, a sensation the very reverse of
agreeable. Without accepting its truth, however, it made a
deep impression upon him, and at last, by way of policy, he
resolved to feign a degree of callous indifference very foreign to
his nature, and, by dint of mere habit, he at length acquired a
semblance of calm, under circiimstances 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 ex-
cited could not be repressed ; then smiling superciliously at the
impassive air of her features, he said :
" Yes, and by rare good luck, too ! The sea is a terrific one
this morning ! "
" Is it ever anything else in this heavenly climate ? " said she,
sighing. " I have counted two fine days since the 8th of June j
and indeed it rained a little on one of them."
Martin winced impatiently under the remark, but never lifted
his eyes from the newspaper.
" I had hoped your niece was making arrangements for our
return to Cro' Martin," said she, querulously, " instead of plan-
ning marine excursions. I told her yesterday — or the day before,
I forget which ; but who could remember time in such a place !
— that I was bored to death here. The observation seems to
amuse you, Mr. Martin, but it is a simple fact."
"And you are bored to death at Cro' Martin too, if I mistake
not ? " said he, with a very significant dryness.
"I should think I was, sii", and nothing very astonishing in
the confession besides."
4
34 THE MARTINS OP CKO' MARTIN.
"And Dublin, madam?"
" Don't speak of it. If one must endure prison discipline, at
least let us have a cell to ourselves. Good morning, Miss Martin.
I hope you enjoyed your party on the water ? "
This speech was addressed to Mary, who now entered the
room dressed in a plain morning" costume, and in her quiet,
almost demure look, resembling- in nothing the dripping and
dishevelled figure that sprung from the boat.
" Good morning, aunt," said she, 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 indifference. "I knew
there was no danger "
"Yes but there was though," 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 Dorothea, with a sneer.
" That I do, aunt, for I had poor Madge Lenuau's little boy
on my lap all the time, and if it came to a swim, I don't see
how he was to be saved."
"Tou'd not have left him to his fate, I suppose?" said
Lady Dorothea.
" I scarcely know what I should have done. I sincerely hope
it would have been my best ; but in a moment like that, within
sight of home too " Her eyes met her uncle's as she said
this ; he had raised them from his newspaper, and bent them
fully on her. There was that in their expression which api^ealed
so strongly to her heart, that instead of finishing her speech she
sprung towards him and threw her arms around his neck.
" Quite a scene; and I detest scenes," said Lady Dorothea, as
she arose and swept out of the room contemptuously ; but they
neither lieard the remark nor noticed her departure.
MAURICE SCANLAN, AITOENET-AI-LAW. 85
CHAPTEB IV.
ItlAURICE SCANLAN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
About an lioui^ after the occurrence mentioned in our last
cliaptei", the quiet little village of Kilkieran was startled by the
sharp clattering sounds of horses' feet, as Mr. Scanlan's tandem
came slinging along ; and after various little dexterities amid
stranded boats, disabled anchors, and broken capstans, drew up
at the gate of the Osprey's Nest. When men devise their own
equipage, they invariably impart to it a strong infusion of their
own idiosyncrasy. The quiet souls who drag through life ia
chocolate-coloured barouches, with 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 the hind panel, to the wiry,
well bred, and well looking screws before him, all was indicative
of the man. The conveyance was high, and red-wheeled ; the
nags were a chesnut and a grey ; he drove them without winkers
or bearing-reins, wearing his white hat a very little on one side,
and gracefully tilting his elbow as he admonished the wheeler
with the "crop" of his whip. He was a good-looking, showy,
vulgar, self-sufficient kind of fellow, with consummate shi^ewd-
ness in all business transactions, only marred by one solitary
weak point — an intense desire to be received intimately by per-
sons of a station above his own, and to seem, at least, to be the-
admitted guest of very fashionable societ3^ It was not a very
easy matter to know if this Lord-worship of his was real, or
merely affected, since certainly the profit he derived from the
assumption was very considerable, and Maurice was entrusted
with a variety of secret-service transactions, and private affairs
for the Nobilit}', which they would never have dreamed of com-
mitting to the hands of their more recognised advisers.
4 — 2
36 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
If men would have been slow to engage liis services in any
grave or imjjortant suit, he was invaluable in all the ordinary
and constantly-occurring events of this changeful world. He
knew every one's difficulties and embarrassments. There was
not a hitch in a settlement, nor a spavin in your stables, coiild
escape him. He seemed to possess a kind of intuitive appreciation
of a ilaw; and he pounced upon a defect with a rapidity that
counterfeited genius. To these gifts he added a consummate
knowledge of his countrymen. He had emerged from the very
humblest class of the people, and he knew them thoroughly;
jvith all their moods of habitual distrust and momentary en-
thusiasm — 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 pre-
cisely the sphere in which his varied abilities were best exercised;
and it was, besides, an arena in which he was proud of figuring.
For a while he seemed — at least in his own eyes — to stand on
a higher eminence than the candidate he represented, and to be
a more prominent and far grander personage than his principal.
In fact, it was only under some tacit acknowledgment of tliis
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 jDleasantest
exercise in the inexplorable realms of secret bribery; however,
it is but fair to say, that he was eminently successful, and that
one failure alone in his whole career occurred to show the pro-
verbial capriciousness of fortune.
With the little borough of Oughterard he had become so
identified that his engagement was regarded as one of the first
elements of success. Hitherto, indeed, the battle had been
always an easy one. The Libei'al party — as they pleasantly
assumed to style themselves — had gone no further in opposition
than an occasional burst of intemperate language, and an efvjvt
— usually a failure — at a street row during the election. So
little of either energy or organisation had marked their endea-
vours, that the great leader of the day had stigmatised their
town with terms of heavy censure, and even pronounced thenx
EBWorthy of the cause. An emissary, deputed to report upon
MAURICE SCANLAN, ATTOKXEY-AT-LAW. 37
tlie political stte of the borough, had described the voters as
mere dependants on the haughty purse-proud proprietor of
Cro' Martiu, who seemed, even without an effort, to nominate
the sitting member.
The great measure of the year '29 — the Catholic Relief Bill
— had now, however, suggested to even more apathetic con-
stituencies the prospect of a successful struggle. The thought
of being represented by "one of their own sort" was no mean
stimulant to exertion; and the leading spirits of the place had
frequently conferred together as to what steps should be taken
to rescue tlie borough from the degrading thraldom of an aris-
tocratic domination. Lord Kilmorris, it is true, was rather
popular with them than the reverse. The eldest sou of an Earl,
who only cared to sit in Parliament on easy terms, till the
course of time and events should call him to the Upper House,
he never took any very decided political line, but sat on Tory
benches and gave an occasional vote to Liberal measures, as
though foreshadowing that new school who were to take the
field under the middle designation of Conservatives. Some
very remote relationship to Lady Dorothea's family had first
introduced him to the Martins' notice; and partly from this
connection, and partly because young Harry ilartiu was too
young to sit in Parliament, they had continued to support him
to the present time.
Mr. Martiu, 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 Kil-
morris for taking upon him the trouble of a contest, if there
should be such a thing. His greatest excuse through life, at
least to himself, had ever been, that he was " unprepared." He
had been in that unhappy state about everything since he was
born, and so, apparently, was he destined to continue to the
very last. With large resources, he was never prei^ared 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 difliculty, he was quite unprepared ; and so convinced was
he that this was a fatality under which he laboured, that no
sooner had he 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
isolation in which he lived, hkd doubtless engendered this cold
58 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
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-mean-
ino-, 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 demon-
strated to him in that morning's newspaper. To be called a
despot was bad enough, but a petty despot — and to be tokl that
such despotism was already doomed — aroused in him a degree
of indignation all the more painful that the sensation was one
he had not experienced for many a year back. Whose fault
was it that such an impertinence had ever been uttered?
Doubtless, Kilmorris's. Some stupid speech, some absurd vote,
some ridiculous party move had brought down this attack upon
him ; or perhaps it was Mary, with her new-fangled ideas about
managing the estate, her school-houses, and her model-farms.
Tlie ignorant people had possibly revolted against her inter-
ference ; or it might be Lady Dorothea herself, whose haughty
manner had given offence ; at all events, he was blameless, and
strang'e to say, either he was not perfectly assured of the fact,
or that the assumption was not pleasant, but he seemed very far
from being satisfied with the explanation. In the agitated mood
these feelings produced, a servant came to inform him that Mr.
Scanlan had just arrived.
" Say I'm out — I'm unwell — I don't feel quite myself to-day.
Call Miss Mary to him." And with an impatient gesture he
motioned the servant away.
" Miss Mary will be down in a few minutes. Sir," said the
man, entering the room where Mr. Scanlan stood arranging his
whiskers before the chimney- glass, and contemplating with
satisfaction his general appearance.
" It was Mr. Martin himself, Thomas, that I wanted to see."
" I know that, sir, but the Master 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
ensy-chair. To common observation he looked perfectly uncon-
corned in every g-esture, and yet no man felt less at his ease at
that moment than Mr. Maurice Scanlan ; and though the cause
involves something like a secret, the reader shall know it. Mr.
Scanlan had seen a good deal of the world — that is, of his world.
MAURICE SCANLAN, ATTORNEY-AT- LAW. 3£
He Lad mixed ^Yith Barristers and Solicitors, " Silk Gowas,''
Masters in Chancery, and even Puisne Judges had he come into
contact with ; he had mingled in turf experiences with certain
sporting Lords and Baronets, swapped horses, and betted and
handicapped with men of fortune; he had driven trotting-
matclies, 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 blarney, there, a dash of mock frankness
to this man, or an air of impulsive generosity to the other — an
accommodating elasticity, in fact, that extended to morals, man-
ners, and principles — he found that he was, as he himself styled
it, " a fair match with equal weights for anything going."
There was but one individual alone in presence of whom he in
reality felt his own infei'iority 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 in-
tuition the shallow artifices by which such natures as Scanlan's
impose upon the woi'ld. She had seen him easily indolent with
her uncle, obsequiously deferential to my Lady, all in the same
breath, while the side-look of tyranny he could throw a refrac-
tory tenant appeared just as congenial to his nature.
It was some strange consciousness which told him he could
not deceive Iter, that made Scanlan ever abashed in her presence,
and by the self-same impulse was it that she was the only one
in the vrorld 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 hundi'ed ap-
pliances of ease and luxuiy, 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 hia
40 THE MARTIjSrS OF CRO' MAKTiN.
mind bov/ was a gii-l brought up in tbis way ever to stoop to
ally ber fortune to a man like bim ? Was it, then, possible
tbat be nourisbed sucb a presumption? Even so. Maurice
was of an aspiring turn ; be bad succeeded in twenty tbings
tbat a dozen years past be bad never dared to dream of. He
bad dined at tables, and driven with men whose butlers and
valets he once deemed very choice company; be bad been the
guest at bouses where- once bis highest ambition had been to
see the interior as a matter of curiosity. " Who could say
where he might be at last?" Besides this, be knew from his
own knowledge of family matters that she bad no fortune, that
her father was infinitely more likely to leave debts than an
inheritance behind him, and that ber uncle was tbe last man in
the world ever to think of a marriage-portion for one be could
not afford to part with. There was, then, no saying what turn
of fortune might present him in an admissible form as a suitor.
At all events, there was no rival in tbe field, and Maurice had
seen many a prize won by a " walk over" purely for want of a
competitor in the race.
Notwithstanding all these very excellent and reassui'ing con-
siderations, Maurice Scanlan could not overcome a most uncom-
fortable sense of awkwardness as Mary J\Iartin 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 be is
not well enough to receive you, and if I can "
"I'm sure it's only too much honour you do me, Miss Mary;
I never expected to have the pleasure of this interview ; indeed,
it will be very bard for me to think of business at all at all."
" Tbat 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 tbe estate. Miss Mary," said he,
in his most obsequious manner, " there's nobody equal to your-
self; or if it were anything at all but what it is, I know well
that you'd see your way out of it; but the present is a matter
of politics — it's about tbe borough."
" Tbat weary boi'ough," 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 writen to my uncle?" asked Mary, hastily.
MAURICE SCAKLAX, ATIORXEV-AT-LAW. 41
" No ; and that's exactly what I came about ; there was a
kind of a coldness — more my Lad3''s, I think, than on Mr.
Martin's part ; and Lord Kilmorris feels a kind of delicacy — iu
fact, he doesn't rig-hth' know how he stands at. Cro' Martin" —
here he paused, iu 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 ]\rartin interest "
" Well, go on," said she, calmly, as he came a second time to
a dead stop.
" It isn't so easy, then, Miss Mary," said he, with a long sigh,
" for there are so many things enter into it — so much of politics
and party and what not — that I quite despair of making myself
intelligible; though, perhaps, if I was to see your uncle he'd
make out my meaning."
" Shall I try and induce him to receive you, then?" said she,
quietly.
"Well, then, I don't like asking it," said he, doubtfully;
" for, after all, there's nobody can break it to him as well as
yourself."
"Break it to him, Mr. Scaulau?" said she, in astonishment.
"Faith, it's the very word, then," said he, "for do what one
will, say what they may, it will be sure to surprise him, if it
does no worse."
"You alarm me, sir; and yet I feel that if you would speak
boldly out your meaning there is pi'obably no cause for fear."
"I'll just do so, then, Miss Mar}'-; but at the same time I'd
have you to understand that I'm taking a responsibility on
mj^self 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
exjiression of her eyes recalled the worthy practitioner to all
his wonted caution. "The matter is this, I^Iiss Martin," said
he, with a degree of deference more marked than before,
"Lord Kilmorris is dissatisfied with the way your uncle sup-
ported him at the last election ; he complains of the hard
conditions imposed upon him as to his line of conduct in the
House; and, above all, he feels insulted by a letter Lady
Dorothea wrote him, full of very harsh expressions and hard
insinuations — I never saw it myself, but that's his account of
it. In fact, he's very angry."
42 THE MAnriNS OF CRO' MARTJX.
"And -means to throw up the borough, in short," broke in
Maiy.
" I'm afraid not. Miss Mary," said the other, iu a half
whisper.
" What then ? — what can he purpose doing ? "
" He means to try and come in on his own interest." said
Scanlan, who uttered the words with an eifort, and seemed to
feel relief when they Avere out.
"Am I to understand that he would contest the borough
with us?"
Scanlan nodded an affirmative.
"No, no, Mr. Scanlan, this is some mistake — some mis-
appi'chension on your part; his lordship may very possibly feel
aggrieved — he may have some cause, for aught I know, about
something in the last election, but this mode of resenting it is
quite oat of the question — downright impossible."
" The best way is to read his own words, Miss Martin.
There's his letter," said he, handing one towards her, which,
however, she made no motion to take.
" If you won't read it, then, perhaps you will permit me to
do so. It's very short, too, for he says at the end he will write
more fully to-morrow." Mr. Scanlan here muttered over
several lines of the epistle until he came to the following: "I
am relieved from any embarrassment I should have felt at
breaking with the Martins by reflecting over the altered con-
ditions of party, and the new aspect politics must assume by
the operations of the Emancipation Act. The old ways and
traditions of the Tories must be abandoned at once and for
ever; and though Martin in his life of seclusion and solitude
will not perceive this necessity, we here all see and admit it. I
could, thei-efore, 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 him-
self 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
MAURICE SCANLAN, ATTORNEY-AT-LA\V. 43
thoughts. " He will stand for the borough — he means to stand
iu opposition to us ? "
"That's his intention — at least, if Mr. INfartin should not
come to the conclusion that it is better to support his lordship
than risk throwing the seat into the hands of the Roman
Catholics."
" I can't follow all these intrigues, Mr. Scanlan. I confess
to you, frankly, that you have puzzled me enough already, and
that I have found it no small strain on my poor faculties to
conceive a gentleman being able to argue himself into any
semblance of self-approval by such sentiments as those which
you have just read; but I am a poor country girl, very ignorant
of great topics and great people. The best thing I can do is to
represent this affair to my uncle, and as early as may be."
" I hope he'll not take the thing to heart, Miss ; and I trust
he'll acquit me "
" Be assui'ed he'll despise the whole business most thoroughly,
sir. I never knew him take any deep interest in these themes :
and if this be a fair specimen of the way they are discussed, he
was all the wiser for his indifference. Do you make any stay
in the village ? Will it be inconvenient for you to remain an
hour or so ? "
"I'll wait your convenience, Miss, to any hour," said
Scanlan, with an air of gallantry which, had she been less
occnpied 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
cei'tain 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 shai'p as a needle, too," muttered he, as he
jogged along the shingly beach, probably for the first time in
his whole life forgetting the effect he was producing on the
bystanders.
4)4 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER V.
A SrUDIO AXD AN ARTIST.
■^ I3 rny 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 j-ou 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, dressed out in goold and
dimonds, and as cross as a badger besides, at the way they're
tormenting him ? "
"Oh, that tiresome picture, is it never to be completed?"
muttered she, half unconsciously.
" The saints above know whether it is or no," rejoined
Terence, " for one of the servants told me yesteivlay that they
rubbed every bit of the master out and began him all ag*aiu,
for my Lady said he wasn't half haggard enough, or worn-
looking; but by my conscience if he goes on as he's doing he
ought to satisfy them."
"Why, I thought it was Henderson was sitting," said Mary,
somewhat amused at the old man's commentaries.
"So he was; but they rubbed him out, too, for it seems now
he ought to be bald, and they've sent him into Oughterard to
get his head .shaved."
"And what were you, Terry?"
"Anali, who knows?" said he, querulously. "At first I
was to be somebody's mother that was always cryin'; but they
A STUDIO AND AN ART13T. 45
w^ereii't pleased with the way I done it, and then they made me
a monk, and after tliat they put two hundred-weight of ai-mour
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, gloiy be to
God ! and I only hope it may last."
"I wish I shared your fortune, Terry, with all my heart,"
said Mar}', 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 Regan holding- a dish of charcoal
so long that he tuk to his bed on Friday last, and was never
up since; and Jinny Moox'e saj's she'd rather lave the place
than wear that undacent dress; and whist, there's murder goin'
on now inside!" And with that the old fellow waddled off
with a speed that seemed quite disproportionate to his yeai's.
While Mary was still hesitating as to what she should do,
the door suddenly opened, and a man in a mediteval costume
rushed out, tugging after him a large bloodhound, whose
glaring eyeballs and frothy mouth betokened intense passion.
Passing hurriedly forward, Mai'y beheld Lady Dorothea bending
oves the fainting figure of a short little man, who lay on the
floor, while her uncle, tottering under a costume he could barely
cany, was trying to sprinkle water over him from an urn three
feet in height.
"Mr. Crow has fainted — mere fright, nothing more!" said
Lady Dorothea. "In stepping backward from the canvas he
unluckily trod upon Fang's paw, and the savage creature at
once sprung on him. That stupid wretch, Regan, one of your
favourites, Miss Martin, never pulled him off till he had torn
poor Mr. Crow's coat clean in two."
" Egad, if I hadn't smashed my sceptre over the dog's head
the mischief wouldn't have stopped there; but he's coming to.
Are 3'ou better. Crow? How do you feel, man?"
"I hope you are better, sir?" said Lady Dorothea, in an
admii-able blending of grand benevolence and condescension.
" Infinitely bettei' — supremely happy besides, to have become
the object of your Ladj^ship'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 Marj.
46 THK MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" Doesn't she, by jingo ! " exclaimed the artist, who with diffi-
culty caught himself in time before he placed his hand on the
supposed seat of his injuries.
" She shall be muzzled in future," said Lady Dorothea,
haughtily, repressing the familiar tone of the disciission.
" I think — indeed I feel sure, I could get her in from memory,
my Lady ; she's a very remarkable creature, and makes an im-
pression on one." As he uttered these words ruefully, he lifted
from the floor the fragment of his ceat-skirt, and gazed mourn-
fully 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 honour she so very rarely
accords us."
" I think after a few minutes or so, my Lady, I might feel
equal," said Mr. Crow, rising and retreating to a wall, with a
degree of caution that showed he entertained grave fears as to
the state of his habiliments — "I might feel equal, if not exactly
to delineate Miss Martin's classic features, at least to throw
in "
"I 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 whose occupations are like those of a
Premier. The Duke of Wellington can vouchsafe a sitting for
his portrait, but Miss Martin cannot spare the time for it."
"Nay, aunt Dorothy, if I were the Duke of Wellington I
should do as he does. It is being Mary Martin, whose picture
can have no interest for any one, enables me to follow the bent
of my own wishes-"
" Humility is another of her perfections," said Lady Dorothea,
with a look that but too palj^ably expressed her feeling towards
her niece.
As Mary was assisting her uncle to get rid of some of his
superfluous draperies, neither of them overheard this remark;
while Mr. Crow was too deeply impressed with his own calamities
to pay any attention to it.
" Mr. Scanlan has been very anxious to see you, uncle,"
whispered Mary in his ear. " He lias something of importance
to commauicate about the borough."
A STT'DIO AND AK ARTIST. 47
" Can't you manage it yourself, Molly ? Can't you contrive
somehow to spare me tliis annoyance?"
"But you really ought to hear what he has to say."
" I perceive that Miss Martin has a secret of moment to
impart to you; pray let me not trouble the interview by my
presence," said Lady Dorothea. And she swept haughtily out
of the room, throwing a most disdainful glance at her husband
as she went.
"There, by George! you've secured me a pleasant afternoon
at all events ! " said Martin, angrily, to his niece, as, throwing
off the last remnant of his regal costume, he rushed out, bang-
ing the door passionately behind him.
Mary sat down to compose her thoughts in quiet, for Mr. Crow
had previously made his escape unobserved; and truly there
was need of some repose for her agitated and wearied faculties.
Her uncle's dependence upon her for everything, and her aunt's
jealousy of the influence she had over him, placed her in a
position of no common difficulty, and one of which every day
seemed to increase the embarrassment. For a moment she
thought she would have preferred a life of utter insignificance
and obscurity, but as suddenly it occured to her: "What had I
been without these duties and these cares? For me there are
few, if any, of the ties that bind other girls to their homes. I
have neither mother nor sister ; I have none of the resources
which education suggests to others. My mind cannot soar
above the realities that surround me, and seek for its enjoy-
ments in the realms of fancy ; but, perhaps, I can do better,"
said she, proudly, " and make of these same every-day materials
the poetry of an actual existence." As she spoke she threw
open the window, and walked out upon the terrace over the sea.
The fishermen's boats were all standing out from shore — a tiny
fleet, whose hardy crews had done no discredit to the proudest
three-decker. Though the heavy gale of the morning had gone
down, it still blew fresh, and a long rolling swell thundered
along in-shore, and sent a deep booming noise through many a
rocky cavern. High above this deafening 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 over-
powered 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
48 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
receded the wind bore to Ler ears the welcome sounds; and as
she heard them, her heart seemed to expand and swell with
generous thoughts and good wishes, while along her cheeks
heavy tears were rolling,
" What need have I of other friends than such as these ? "
cried she, passionately. " They understand me, and I them ;
and as for the great world, we are not made for each other ! "
" My own sentiments to a ' T,' Miss," said a soft, mincing
voice behind her ; and Mary turned and beheld Isiv. Crow. He
had arrayed himself in a small velvet skull-cap and a blouse,
and stood mixing the colours on his palette in perfect com-
posure. " I'm afraid. Miss Martin, there's an end of the great
' Historical.' Your uncle will scarcely be persuaded to put on
the robes again, and it's a downright pity. I was getting a
look of weariness — imbecility I might call it — into his features
that would have crowned the work."
" I don't think I ever knew what your subject was! " said she,
half indolently.
"The Abdication of Charles V., Miss Martin," said he,
proudly. " This is the fourteenth time I have depicted it ;
and never, I am bound to say, with more favourable ' studies.'
Your Tincle is fine; my Lady, gorgeous; I don't say what I'd
like of another lovely and gifted individual ; but even down to
that old rogue of a butler that would insist on taking snuff
through the bars of his helmet, they were all grand. Miss —
positively grand ! " Seeing that she appeared to bestow some
attention to him, Mr. Crow went on : " You see, Miss, in the
beginning of a great effort of this kind there is no progress
made at all. The sitters keep staring at one another, each
amused at some apparent absurdity in costume or attitude ; and
then, if you ask them to call up a look of love, hate, jealousy,
or the like, — it's a grin you get — a grin that would shame a
liyena. By degrees, however, they grow used to the situation ;
they ' tone down,' as one might say, and learn to think less of
themselves, and be more natural. It was sheer fatigue, down-
right exhaustion, 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 look of
cadaverous madness into his face that would have astonished
you."
By this time Mr. Crow had approached his canvas, and was
working awa}^ vigorously, the action of his brush appearing to
stimulate his loquacity. Mary drew near to observe him, and
A STUDIO AXD AN ARTIST. 49
insensibly felt attracted by that fascination which the progress
of a picture invariably possesses.
" This is the Queen," continued he ; " she's crying — as well
siie might, — she doesn't rightly know whether the old fellow's
out of his 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 looking on,
rather more amused, you perceive, than in any way moved;
you were holding up your beautiful petticoat, all covered with
gold and precious stones, as much as to say, 'Ain't I fine this
morning ? " when you heard the herald's trumpet announce the
Prince of Orange ; and there he is — or there he ought to be — •
coming in at the door. There's a chap pulling the curtain
aside; but I suppose, now," added he, with a sigh, "we'll never
see the Prince there ! "
"But where could you have found a study for your Prince,
Mr. Crow?"
" I have him here. Miss," said Crow, laying down his brush
to take a small sketch-book from the pocket of his blouse. "I
have him here; and there wouldn't have been a finer head in
the canvas — pale, stern-looking, but gentle withal; a fellow
that would say ' Lead them to the scaffold,' as easy as winking,
and that would tremble and falter under the eye of a woman he
loved. There he is, now — the hair, you know, I put in myself,
and the bit of beard, just for a little Titian effect, but the eyes
are his own, and the mouth not as good as his own."
" It's a striking head, indeed," said Mary, still contemplating
it attentively.
" That's exactly what it is ; none of your common brain-boxes,
but a grand specimen of the classic head, 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's a painful expression in the features, too," added she,
slowly.
" So there is; and I believe he's in bad health."
" Indeed ! " said Mary, starting. " I quite forgot there was
an original all this time."
"He's alive; and what's more, he's not a mile from where
we're standing." Mr. Crow looked cautiously about him as he
spoke, as if fearful of being overheard, and then approaching^
5
60 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 King-. That
young man there is the son of a grocer in Oughterard — true,
every word of it — Dan Nelligan's son ! and you may fancy now
what chance he'd have of seeing himself on that canvas if her
Ladyship knew it."
"Is this the youth who has so distinguished himself at
College ? " asked Mary.
"The very one. I made that sketch of him when he was
reading for the medal ; he 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, with the
lips a little apart, was so fine that I took it down at once, and
there it is," said he, turning over the page and presenting a few
pencil lines lightly and spiritedly drawn.
" A young gentleman left this packet, Miss Mary, and said it
was for you," said a servant, presenting a small sealed enclosure.
Mary Martin blushed deeply, and she opened the parcel, out of
which fell her own glove, with a card.
"The very man we were talking of," said Mr. Crow, lifting
it up and handing it to her. " Joseph Nelligan. That's like
the old proverb ; talk of the " but she was gone ere he
could finish his quotation.
"There she goes," said Crow, sorrowfully, "and if she'd
have stayed ten minutes more I'd have had her all complete!"
and he contemplated with glowing satisfaction a hasty sketch
he had just made in his book. " It's like her — far more than
anything I have done yet; but after all " and he shook hia
head mournfully as he felt the poor pretension of his efforts.
" Small blame to me to fail, anyhow," added he, after a pause,
" It would take Titian himself to paint her ; and even he couldn't
give all the softness and delicacy of the expression — that Avould
take Raffaelle ; and Vandyke for her eyes, when they flash out
at times; and Giordano for the hair. Oh, if he could have
Been 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 hia
hands, to muse and mourn in silence.
A STUDIO AND AX AETIST. 61
Simpson — or as he was more generally known, Simmy Crow
■^was neither a Michael Angelo nor a RafFaelle, but he was a
simple-minded, honest-hearted creature, whose life had been a
long hand-to-hand fight with fortune. Originally a drawing-
master in some country academy, the cajirice — for it was little
else — of a whimsical old lady had sent him abroad to study ;
that is, sent him to contemplate the very highest triumphs of
genius with a mind totally unprepared and uncultivated — to
gaze on the grandest conceptions without the shadow of a clue
to them — and to try and pick up the secrets of art when he
stood in utter ignorance of its first principles. The consequence
was, he went wild, in the enthusiasm of his admiration; he
became a passionate worshipper at the shrine, but never essayed
to be priest at the altar. Disgusted and dispirited by his own
miserable attempts, he scarcely ever touched a pencil, but roved
from city to city, and from gallery to gallery entranced —
enchanted by a fascination that gradually insinuated itself into
his very being, and made up the whole aim and object of his
thoughts. This idolatry imparted an ecstasy to his existence
that lifted him above every accident of fortune; — poor, hungry,
and ill-clad, he still could enter a gallei'y or a church — sit
down before a Guido or a Rembrandt, and forget all, save the
glorious creation before him. By the sudden death of his
patroness he was left, without a shilling, hundreds of miles
from home. Humble as his requirements were, he could not
supply them ; he offered to teach, but it was in a land where all
have access to the best models ; he essayed to copj', but his
efibrts 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 he made his way to
Ireland, poorer than he had quitted it.
Had he returned in better plight — had he come back with
some of the appearance of success, the chances are that he
might have thriven on the accidents of fame ; but lie 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 rendei'ed him hopeless ; and a few — a
very few — pitied him as a weak-brained enthusiast, who had no
bad about him, but was born to failure!
In his utter destitution he obtained work as a house-painter
— an employment which he followed for three or four years,
and in which capacity he had been sent by his master to paint
5—2
52 THE JIARTrXS OF CRO' MARTIN.
some ornamental stucco-work at Cro' Martin. The ability he
displayed attracted Lady Dorothea's notice, and she engaged
him to decorate a small garden villa with copies from her own
designs. He was entirely successful, and so much pleased was
her ladyship, that she withdrew him from his ignoble servitude
and attached him to her own household, where now he had
been living two years, the latter half of which period had been
passed in the great work of which we have already made some
mention. It so chanced, that poor Simmy had never sold but
two copies in his life: one was the abdication of Chai^les V.,
the other, the Finding of Moses; and so, out of gratitude to
these successes, he went on multiplying new versions of these
subjects ad infinitum, eternally writing fresh variations on the
old themes, till the King and the Lawgiver filled every avenue
of his poor brain, and he ceased to have a belief that any other
story than these could be the subject of high art.
Happy as he now was, he never ceased to feel that his
position exposed him to many an ungenerous suspicion. " They'll
say I'm humbugging this old lady," was the constant self-
reproach he kept repeating. " I know well what they'll think
of me — I think I hear the sneering remarks as I pass." And
so powerfully had this impression caught hold of him, that ha
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 " un-
finished, 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 hia
picture. Once at work, his spirits rose; hopes flitted across
his brain, and he was happy. His own creations seemed to
smile benignly on him, too, and he felt towards them like a
friend, and even talked with them, and confided his secret
thoughts to them.
In this pleasant mood we shall leave him then, nor shall we
linger to listen to the avowals he is making of his upright
intentions, nor his willingness to bear the hardest rubs of
fortune, so that none can reproach him for a mean subserviency.
A DASH OF POLITICS. 53
CHAPTER VI.
A DASH OF POLITICS.
"Well, what is it, Molly— what is it all about?" said
Martin, as Mary entered the library, where he was sitting with
an unread newspaper stretched across his knee.
" It is a piece of news Scanlan has brought, uncle, and not of
the most agreeable kind, either."
" Then I'll not hear more of it," broke he in, pettishly.
" But you must, uncle, since without your own counsel and
advice nothing can be done."
"Do nothing then," added he, sulkily,
"Come — come — I'll not let you off thus easily," said she,
passing an arm over his shoulder. "You know well I'd not
tease you if it could be avoided, but here is a case where I can
be no guide. It is a question of the borough. Lord Kilmorris
thinks himself strong enough to stand on his own merits, and
repudiates your aid and his own principles together." Martin's
attention being now secured, she went on : " He says — at least
as well as I can follow his meaning — that with this new
measure must come a total change of policy — abrogating all
old traditions and old notions. That you, of course, are little
likely to adopt this opinion, at least at once, and so he releases
you from all obligations to support him, and himself from all
tie to represent t/om."
"This is Lady Dorothy's doing," broke in Martin, passion-
ately; "her confounded letter-writing has brought this upon
us. I told her that those fellows were trimming ; I warned her
that they were only waiting for this Bill to pass, to turn round
upon us as a barbarous old remnant of feudal oppression ; but
he daren't do it, Molly — Kilmorris 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
54 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN.
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, caressing-ly ; "after all you have
yourself told me of a Parliamentary life, that must never be.
Its unending intrigues and petty plotting — its fatiguing days
and harassing nights — its jealousies, and disappointments, and
defeats, all hard enough to be borne by those who must make a
trade of their politics, but uttei'ly insupportable to one who,
like you, can enjoy his independence. Do not think of that, I
beseech you."
" Then am I to see this man carry my own town in my very
teeth ? " cried he, angrily. " Is that your advice to me ? "
" You often spoke of Harry. Why not put him forward now
he is coming home?"
"Ay, and the very first thing he'll do will be to resign the
seat because he had not been consulted about the matter before
the election. You know him well, Molly ; and you know that
he exchanged into a regiment in India simply because I had
obtained his appointment to the Blues. His amiable mother's
disposition is strong in him ! " muttered he, half to himself,
but loud enough to be heard by his niece.
" At all events, see Scanlan," said she ; " learn how the
matter really stands ; don't rely on my version of it, but see
what Lord Kilmorris intends, and take your own measures
calmly and dispassionately afterwards."
"Is Scanlan engaged for him?"
" I think not. I suspect that negotiations are merely in pro-
gress."
"But if he even was," broke in Martin, violently, "I have
made the fellow what he is, and he should do as I ordered him.
Let him come in, Molly."
" He is not in the house, uncle ; he went down to the village."
"Not here? Why didn't he wait? What impertinence is
this?"
"He wished to bait his horses, and probably to get some
breakfast for himself, which I had not the politeness to offer
him here."
" His horses? His tandem, I'll be sworn," said Martin, with
a sneer. " I'll ask for no better evidence of what we are coming
to, than that Maurice Scanlan drives about the county with a
tandem."
"And handles them very neatly, too," said Mary, with a
A DASH OF POLITICS. 55
malicio'ns sparkle of her eye, for slie couldn't refrain from the
spiteful pleasure of seeing her uncle in a regular fuiy for a
mere nothing. All the more salutary, as it withdrew his
thoughts from weightier themes.
"I'm sure of it, Miss Martin. I'm certain that he is a most
accomplished whip, and as such perfectly sure to find favour in
your eyes. Let him come up here at once, however. Say I
want him immediately," added he, sternly ; and Mary despatched
a servant with the message, and sat down in front of her uncle,
neither uttering a word, nor even looking towards the other.
"After all, j\[olly," said he, in the quiet, indolent tone so
natural to him — "after all, what does it signify who's in or
who's out ? I don't care a brass farthing* about party or party
triumphs, and even if I did, I'm not prepared What are
you laughing at — what is it amuses you now ? " asked he, half
testily, while she laughed out in all the unrestrained flow ot
joyous mirth.
"I have been waiting for that confession this half hour,
uncle, and really I was beginning to be afraid of a disappoint-
ment. Why, dearest uncle, you were within a hair's breadth
of forgetting your principles, and being actually caught, for
once in your life, prepared and ready."
" Oh, is that it ? Is it my embarrassment, then, that affords
you so much amusement?"
"Far from it," said she, affectionately. "I was only laugh/,
ing at that quiet little nook you retire to whenever you ought
to be up and doing. Unprepai-ed you say. Not a bit of it.
Indisposed, indolent, unwilling, indifferent, any of these you
like; but with a mind so full of its own good resources, and as
ready to meet every contingency as any one's, don't say you are
unprepared. Come, now, bear with me this once, dearest uncle
and don't be angry if I throw myself, like a rock or sandbank,
betwixt you and your harbour of refuge. But I hear Mr
Scanlan's voice, and so I shall leave you. Be resolute, vincle
determined, and — 'prepared!'" And with a gesture half
menace and half drollery, she left the room as the attorney
entered it.
Scanlan, like most of those who came but casually in contact
with Martin, had conceived a low idea of his capacity — lower
by far than it deserved, since behind his indolence there lay a
fund of good common sense — a mine, it must be acknowledged,
that he seldom cared to work. The crafty man of law had,
however, only seen him in his ordinary moods of careless ease
56 THE MABTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 Kil-
morris?" 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 un-
invited — " 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 ap-
prove of."
"Come, come, none of this balderdash with me. Master
Maurice. Has he bought the fellows already, or, rather, have
you bought them? Out with it, man. What will he give?
Name the sum, and let us treat the matter in a business-like
way."
Scanlan sat down and laughed heartily for some minutes.
"I think you know me well enough, Mr. Martin, by this
time," said he, "to say whether I'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 himself he said, " Have you taken any
engagement with his Lordshii^ ? "
" Not as yet, sir — not formally, at least. My Lord has written
me a very full statement of his ideas on politics, what he means
to do, and so forth, and he seems to think that anything short
of a very liberal line would not give satisfaction to the electors."
"Who told him so? Who said that the borough was not
perfectly content with the representative, that — that" — he
stammered and faltered — " that its best friends had fi.xed upon,
to defend its interests? Who said that a member of my own
family might not desire the seat?"
This announcement, uttered with a tone very much akin to
menace, failed to produce either the astonishment or terror that
A DASH OP POLITICS. 57
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 con-
sequences, and wished to throw the weight of the duty on
his opponent.
"There would be a warm contest no doubt, sir," said Scanlan,
guardedly.
"No, sir; nor the shadow of a contest," rejoined Martin,
angrily, "You'll not tell me that my own town — the property
that has been in my family for seven centuries and more, would
presume — that is, would desire — to — to — break the ties that
have bound us to each other?"
" I wish I could tell you my mind, Mr. Martin, without
offending you ; that is, I wish you'd let me just say what luy
own opinion is, and take it for what it is worth, and in jfive
minutes you'd be in a better position to make up your mind
about this matter than if we went on discussing it for a week."
There was a dash of independence in his utterance of these
words that actually startled Martin ; for, somehow, Scanlan
had himself been surprised into earnestness by meeting with
an energy on the other's part that he had never suspected ; and
thus each appeared in a new light to the other.
"May I .speak out? Well, then, here is what I have to
say : the Relief Bill is passed, the Catholics are now eman-
cipated ■"
"Yes, and be " Martin caught himself with a cough,
and the other went on :
" Well, then, if they don't send one of their own set into
Parliament at once it is because they'd like to affect, for a little
while at least, a kind of confidence in the men who gave them
their liberties. O'Connell himself gave a pledge, that of two
candidates, equal in all other respects, they'd select the Protest-
ant ; and so they would for a time. And it lies with you, and
other men of your station, to determine how long that interval
is to last ; for an interval it will only be, after all. If you want
to pursue the old system of * keeping down,' you'll drive them
at once into the hands of the extreme Papist iiarty ; who, thanks
to yourselves, can now sit in Parliament ; but if you'll moderate
your views, take an humbler standard of your own power — con-
ciliate a prejudice, here, obliterate an old animosity, there — - — "
" In fact," broke in Martin, " swear by this new creed that
65 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Lord Kilmorris has sent you a sketch of in his letter! Then
I'll tell you what, sir — I'd send the borough and all in it to
the ■""
" So you might, Mr. Martin, and you'd never mend matters in
the least," broke he in, with great coolness.
There was now a dead silence for several minutes ; at last
Martin spoke, and it was in a tone and with a manner that in-
dicated deep reflection :
" I often said to those who would emancipate the Catholics,
*Ar3 you prepared to change places with them? You have
been in the ascendant a good many years, are you anxious now
to try ^yhat 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 thet savoured of mere
speculative reasoning,
"As how, for instance — in what way, Mr. Scanlan?" asked
]\Iartin, curtly.
" If you'll not support Lord Kilmorris "
*' That I won't, I promise you ; put that clean out of your
head to begin with."
"Well, then, there is but one other course open. Come to
some compromise with the Romanist party ; if you don't like
to give them a stray vote — and mark me, they'd make better
terms with you than with a stranger — but if you don't like
that, why take the representation alternately with them,"
Martin rose from his chair and advanced close to where
Scanlan was sitting, then, fixing his eyes steadfastly on him,
said :
"Who commissioned you to make this proposition to me?^'
" No one, upon my oath. There is not a man breathing who
has ever so much as hinted at what I have just said to you."
" I'm glad of it ; I'm heartily glad of it," said Martin, calmly
reseating himself. "I'm glad there is not another fellow in
this county your equal in impudence! Aye, Mr. Scanlan, you
heard me quite correctly, I saw many a change going on
frnongst us, and I foresaw many more; but that a Martin of
Cro' Martin should be taught his political duty by Maurice
Scanlan, and that that duty consisted in a beggarly alliance
with the riff-raff of a county town ; that was, indeed, a surprise
for which I was in nowise prepared."
A DASH OF POLITICS. 69
" Well, sir, I'm sorry if I have given any offence, said
Scanlan, rising, and, in a voice of the most quiet intonation,
making his excuses: "Your rejection of the counsel I was bold
enough to suggest leaves me, at least, at liberty to offer my
services where they will not be rejected so contumeliously."
"Is this a threat, Mr. Scanlan?" said Martin, with a super-
cilious smile.
" No, sii' , nothing of the kind. I know too well what
becomes my station, and is due to yours, to forget mj^self so far;
but as you don't set any value on the borough yourself, and as
there may be others who do "
" Stay and eat your dinner here, Scanlan," said Martin.
" I promised Mrs. Cronan, sir "
"Send an apology to her; say it was my fault — that T
detained you." And without waiting for a reply, Martin
sauntered from the room, leaving the attorney alone with bis
reflections.
(50 TUB MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER VII.
A COLLEGE COMPETITOR.
Young Nelligan had distanced all his competitors in his
College career; some who were his equals in ability, were
inferior to him in habits of hard and patient labour ; and others,
again, were faint-hearted to ojipose one in whose success they
affected to believe luck had no small share. 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."
Although Irish by birth, and connected with Ireland by ties
of family and fortune, he had passed all his life in England, his
father having repaired to that country after the Union, exchang-
ing the barren honour of a seat for an Irish borough for a snug
Treasury appointment. His son had very early given proof of
superior capacity. At Rugby he was distinguished as a
scholar; and in his opening life at Oxford his talents won
high praise for him. Soon after his entrance, however, he
had fallen into a fast set — of hunting, tandem-driving, and
occasionally hard-drinking men — in whose society he 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-hall as easily as he
assumed the first place in the social meeting. A few reverses,
however, taught him that his theory was a mistake, that no
amount of ability will compensate for habits of idleness and
dissipation, and that the discursive efforts of even high genius
A COLLEGE COMPETITOR. 61
will be ever beaten by the steady results of patient industry.
Partly indifferent to what had once been his great ambition —
partly ofiended by his failures, Massingbred threw himself
entii'ely into the circle of his dissipated companions, and became
the very head and front of all their wildest excesses. An
absurd exploit, far more ludicrous than really culpable, procured
his rustication ; a not less ridiculous adventure drove him from
Cambridge; and he had at last arrived in Dublin, somewhat
tamed down by Jiis 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, con-
sisting 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, jDolitical dis-
tinctions, and county associations, 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 privilege of book-debts, and as the great
majority of the students resided with their families in the
capital, there was no room for that reckless extravagance so
often prosecuted by those v/ho 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 fellows who could tool a team or steer
a six-oar ? who could dash up to town for a week's reckless life
at Crocky's and Tattersall's, make their book on the Oaks, or
perhaps ride the winner at a steeplechase?
It was all gi'ievously 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-handkerchiefs. It was not that he had
a certain air of puppyism as he wended his way across the
courts, or sauntered elegantly into chapel. They could have
62 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' MARTIN.
forgiven any or all of tliese 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, stimutated to show 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 honours, and, to the surprise of all, succeeded. In
fact, he boat two or three of the distinguished men of his time,
till thrown by the chance of events into Nelligan's division, he
found at once his superior, and saw that he was in presence of
an intelligence considerably above his own. When he had
adventured on the struggle and found himself worsted, he
acknowledged defeat with all the generosity of an honourable
nature, and forcing his way through the crowd as it issued
from the examination-hall, was the very first to grasp Nelli-
gan'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
Massingbrcd regarded a College distinction as no evidence
whatever of a man's attainments. He had seen stupid fellows
win the prize for which clever ones strove in vain; but, at all
events, he regarded such successes as coiitributing in nothing
to the great race of life, and had even a theory that such early
efforts were often the very means of exhausting the energies
that should be exerted for the high rewards of the world.
Besides this, he felt a pleasure in manfully showing that he
was above a petty jealousy, and fairly owning himself beaten
in a fair struggle.
"You are the better man, Nelligan," said he, gaily; " I'll not
try another fall with you, be assured."
Strange was it that in this very avowal he had asserted
what the other felt, in his inmost heart, to be an immeasurable
superiority over him; and that, in the very moment of striking
his flag, he had proclaimed his victory. To be able to run bim
A COLLEGE COMPETITOR.
63
BO hard for the race and yet not feel the strug-gle — to strive for
the prize and care nothing for defeat, seemed to Nelligau 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 the}'^ became intimate. The very diiFcrence
in character served to draw them more closely together; and
if Nelligan felt a degree of admiration for qualities whose
brilliant display opened a new sense of enjoyment to him, thf;
other was delighted with the gentle and almost childlike
innocence of the student whose far-soaring intellect was
mastering the highest questions of science.
Massingbred was one of those natures in whom frankness is
an instinct. It seems to such a relief to open the secrets of the
heart and avow their weaknesses and their 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 he owe his whole fortune in life.
" My father was one of the crew when the vessel was
wrecked, Nelligan," said he ; " there was plenty of talk of
standing by the ship to the last and perishing with her. Some
did so, and they are forgotten already. My father, however,
jumped into the long-boat with a few more, and thought that
probably they might find another craft more seaworthy;
fortunately he was right, at least assuredly I'm not the man to
say he was not."
"But was there no desertion of principle, Massingbred?"
said Nelligan.
" No more than there is a desertion of your old coat when
you discover it to be too threadbare to wear any longer. Irish
Politics — as the men of that day understood them — had become
impi-acticable, impossible, I might say ; the only sensible thing
to do was to acknowledge the fact. My father was keen-
sighted enough to see it in that light, and here's iiiiiJ health for
it."
Nelligan was silent.
" Come, Joe, out with it. Your family v/ere honest Unionists.
64 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Tell me so frankly, man. Own to me that you and youi's look
upon us all as a set of knaves and scoundrels, that sold their
country, and so forth. I want to see you in a mood of good
passionate indignation for once. Out with it, boy ; curse us to
your heart's content, and I'll hear it like an angel, for the
simple reason that I know it to be just. You won't, won't
you ? Is your anger too deep for words ? or are there any
special and peculiar wrongs that make your dark consuming
wrath too hot for utterance?"
Nelligan was still silent; but the blush which now covered
his face had become almost purple. The allusion to his family
as persons of political importance struck him, and for the first
time, with a sense of shame. What would Massingbred think
of them if he knew their real station ? what would he think of
Mm 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 opprestive silence that seemed to weigh him down
like an accusation, but he could not.
" I see it all, Nelligan. My foolish affectation of laughing
at all principle has disgusted yoii, 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 was a man of fair average abilities — able to say
his commonplaces like bin neighbours — and naturally felt that
they would sound as well in England as in Ireland ; I don't
think he had a single conviction on any subject, so that he
really sold a very 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 Nelligan, breathlessly.
" I'll just go and learn for myself."
" How ? what do yon mean ? "
" The easiest way in the world. The vacation begins next
Tuesday, and I'll just invite myself to spend the first week of
it under your paternal roof. You look terribly shocked, ab-
solutely horrified ; well, so you ought. It is about the greatest
piece of impertinence I've heard of. I assure you I have a full
consciousness of that myself; but no matter, I'll do it."
A COLLEGE COMPETITOR. 05
Nelligan's stame was now an agony. Tt 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 pre-
tension to anything higher or more exalted. The distinctions
at which he aimed were those attainable by ability; social
successes were triumphs he never dreamed of; bat 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 Avhose ways, thoughts, and habits, would be apt
themes for ridicule and sarcasm. Over and over again had
Massingbred annoyed him by the disparaging tone in which he
canvassed "small people," the sneering depreciation in which
he held all their doings, and the wholesale injustice by which
he classed their sentiments with their good manners. It was
the one feature of his friend's character that gave a check to
his unbounded esteem for him. Had he not possessed this
blemish, Nelligan would have deemed him nearly faultless.
Intensely feeling this, Nelligan would have given much for
courage to say: "I am one of that very set you sneer at. All
my associations and ties are with them. My home is amongst
them, and every link of kindred binds me to them."
Yet, somehow, he could not bring himself to the effort. It
was not that he dreaded the loss of friendship that might
ensue; indeed, he rather believed that such would not occur;
but he thought that a time might come when that avowal
might be made with pride, and not in humiliation, when he
should say : " My father, the little shopkeeper of Oughterard,
gave me the advantages by which I became what I am. The
class you sneer at had yet ambitions high and daring as your
own ; and talents to attain them, too ! The age of noble and
serf has passed away, and we live in a freer and more generous
era, when men are tested by their OAvn 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, howevei", when he was nothing, when
his name had no echo beyond the walls of a College, would
have seemed to him an intolerable piece of presumption, and
he was silent.
Massingbred read his reserve as proceeding from displeasure,
and jestingly said :
"You mustn't be angry with me, Joe. The boldness of men
like me is less impudence than you take it for, since — should I
fulfil my threat, and pay your father a visit — I'd neither show
66 THB MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
surprise nor sliarae if lie refused to receive me. I tlii'ow over
all the claims of ceremony, but at the same time I don't want
to impose the trammels on my friends. They are free to deal
with me as frankly — ay, and as curtly, as I have treated them ;
but enough of all this. Let us talk of something else."
And so they did, too ; of their college life and its changeful
fortunes — of their companions and their sevei'al 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 — yow. astonishing the
world by your abilities, and winning your way to rank and
eminence; while I, like a sign-post that points to the direction,
shall stand stock-still, and never budge an inch, knowing the
road, but not travelling it."
"And why should it be so. Mass, when you have such a per-
fect consciousness of your powers for success ? "
" For the simple reason, my boy, that I know and feel how
the cleverness which imposes upon others has never imposed
upon myself. The popular error of a man's being able to do
fifty things which he has not done from idleness, apathy, care-
lessness, and so on, never yet deceived me, because I know well
that when a fellow has great stuff in him it will come out,
whether he likes or not. You might as well say, that the
grapes in a wine- vat could arrest their own process of fermenta-
tion, as that a man of real g'enius — and mind, I am now speak-
ing of no other — could suppress the working of his intelligence,
and throw his faculties into torpor. The men who do nothing
are exactly the men who can do no better. Volition, energy,
the strong impulse for action, are part and parcel of every really
great intellect ; and your ' mute inglorious Milton,' only reminds
me of the artist who painted his canvas all red to represent the
passage of the Egyptians through the Red Sea. Believe me,
you must take all untried genius in the same scale of credit as
that by which you have fancied the chariots and horsemen sub-
mei-ged in the flood. They are there, if you like, and if you
don't "
" Your theory requii'ea that all men's advantages should be
equal, their station alike, and their obstacles the same. Now,
they are not so. See, for instance, in oar University liere. I
am debarred from the fellowship-bench — or at least from at-
tempting to reach it — because I am a Papist."
" Then turn Protestant ; or if that doesn't suit you, address
yourself to kick down the barrier that stands in your way. By-
A COLLEGE COMPETITOR. 67
the-by, I didn't kuow you were a Roman; how comes that? Is
it a family creed, or was it a caprice of your own ? "
"It is the religion my family have always pi-ofessed," said
Nelligan, gravely.
" I have no right to speak of these subjects, because I have
never felt strongly enough on them to establish strong convic-
tions; but it appears to me, that if I were you — that is, if X
had your head on my shoulders, I should think twice ere I'd
sacrifice my whole future out of respect for certain dogmas that
no more interfere with one's daily life and opinions than some
obsolete usage of ancient Greece has a bearing upon a modern
suit in Chancery. There, don't look fretful and impatient; I
don't want to provoke you, nor is it worth your while to bring
your siege artillery against my card-house. I appreciate every-
thing 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 vege-
tate hereafter. As for himself, it would have been somewhat
difiicult to say how far his convictions ever went with his words.
Any attempt to guide and direct him was, at any time, enough
to excite a wilful endeavour to oppose it, and whatever savoured
of opposition immediately evoked his resistance. The spirit of
rebellion was the key-note of his character ; he could be made
anything, everything, or nothing ; as authority, or, as he would
have styled it, tyranny, decided.
It was just at this very moment that an incident occured to
display this habit of his mind in its full force. His father, by
employing much private influence and the aid of powerful
friends, had succeeded in obtaining for him the promise of a
most lucrative civil appointment in India. It was one of those
situations which in a few years of very moderate labour, secure
an ample fortune for the possessor. Mr. Massingbred had for-
gotten but one thing in all the arrangement of this affair, which
was to apprise his son of it beforehand, and make him, as it
were, a part of the plot. That one omission, however, was
enough to secure its failure.
Jack received the first tidings of the scheme when it was a
fact — not a speculation. It was a thing done, not, to do, and
consequently a " gross piece of domestic cruelty to dispose of
him and his future by an arbitrary banishment to a distant
land, linking him with distasteful duties, uncongenial asso-
68 THE MARTINS Of CBO' MARTIN.
ciates," and the rest of it. In a word, it wag a case for resis-
tance, and lie did resist, and in no very measured fashion either.
He wrote back a pettish and ill-tempered refusal of the place,
sneered at the class by whom such appointments were regarded
as prizes, and cooly said, that "it was quite time enough to
attach himself to the serious business of life when he had
tasted something of the pleasures that suited his time of lifej
besides," added he, " I must see which way my ambitions point,
perhaps to a seat on the Treasury benches, perhaps to a bullock-
team, a wood-axe, and a rifle in a new settlement. Of my
resolves on either head, or on anything between them, you
shall have the earliest possible intimation from your devoted,
but perhaps not very obedient, to command,
" J. M."
His father rejoined angrily and peremptorily. The place
had cost him everything he could employ or enlist of friendly
patronage; he made the request assume all the weight of a
deep personal obligation, and now the solicitation and the suc-
cess 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 ? "VVh*<; if he abstained from any interferenco
with one so competent k) guide himself ? He threw out these
suggestions too palpably to occasion any misconception, and
Jack read them aright. "I'm quite ready for sea whenever
you are pleased to cut the painter," said he; and the corres-
pondence concluded with a dry intimation that two hundred a
year, less than one-half of his former allowance, should be paid
into Coutts's for his benefit, but that no expenditure above that
sum would be repaid by his father.
" I'll emigrate — I'll agitate — I'll turn author, and wi-ite 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 any-
thing against which bis principles would revolt. In speculation
only, however, for, in sober reality, he settled down into a mere
idler — discontented, dreamy, and unhappy.
Little momentary bursts of energy would drive him now and
then to his books, and for a week or two he would work really
hard, when a change as sudden would come over him, and he
would relapse into his former apathy. Thus was it that he had
lived for some time after the term had come to an end, and
scarcely a single student lingered within the silent courts.
Perhaps the very solitude was the great charm of ihe jjlace;
A COLLEGE COMPETITOR. 69
there was tliat in bis lonely, unfriended, uncompanionable ex-
istence tbat seemed to feed tlie brooding melancholy in vvhich
lie 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 affected to need
neither sympathy nor affection. Still his was not the stuff" of
■which misanthropy is fashioned, and he felt acutely the silence
of his friend Nelligan, who had never once written to him since
they parted.
"I'd scarcely have left Jiim here," said he to himself one day;
" had he been in my position, I'd hardly have quitted Jiim under
such circumstances. He knew all about my quarrel with my
father. He had read our letters on each side. To be sure he
had condemned me, and taken the side against me, still, when
there was a breach, and that breach offered no j)rospect of re-
conciliation, 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 dangei'ous hypothesis it is when we assume to act
for another; how magnanimously do we I'ise above all meaner
motives, and only think of what is generous and noble ; how
completely we discard every possible contingency that could
sway us from the road of duty, and neither look right nor left
on our way to some high object. Jack Massingbred arguing
thus, ended by thinking himself .a very fine fellow, and his
friend a very shabby one — two conclusions that, strangely
enough, did not put him into half as much good-humour with
the world as he expected. At all events, he felt very sore with
Nelligan, and had he known where to address him, would have
written a very angry epistle of mock gratitude for all his solici-
tude in his behalf; very unfortunately, however, he did not
know in what part of Ireland the other i*esided, nor did his
acquaintance with provincial dialect enable him to connect his
friend with a western county. He had so confidently expected
to hear from him, that he had never asked a question as to his
whereabouts. Thus was it with Massingbred, as he sauntered
along the silent alleys of the College Park, in which, at rare
intervals, some solitary sizer might be met with — spare, sad-
looking figures — in whose features might be read the painful
^0 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
conflict of narrow fortune and liigh ambition. Book in Band
generally, they rarely exchanged a look as he passed them, and
Massino-bred scanned at his ease these wasted and careworn
sons of labour, wondering within himself was " theirs the right
road to fortune ? "
Partly to shake off the depression that was over him by
change of place, and in part to see something of the country
itself, Massingbred resolved to make a walking tour through
the south and west of Ireland, and with a knapsack on his
back, be started one fiue autumn, morning for Wicklow.
SOilE KNOTTT POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLIQAK. 71
CHAPTER Yin,
SOSE KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLTGAlf.
This true history contains no record of the evening Mr.
Scanlan passed at the Osprey's Nest; nor is it probable that in
any diary kept by that intelligent individual there will yet be
found materials to supply this historical void. Whether, there-
fore, high events and their consequences were discussed, or that,
the meeting was only devoted to themes of lighter importance,
is likely to remain a secret to all time. That matters beneath
the range of politics occupied the consideration of the parties
was, however, evident from the following few lines of a note
received by young Nelligan the next morning :
" Dear Joe, — I dined yestesday at the ' Nest,' and we talked
much of you. What would you think of paying a visit there
this morning to see the picture, or anything else you can think
of? I've a notion it would be well taken. At all events, come
over and speak to me here.
" Ever yours,
"M. Scanlan."
" I scarcely understand your note, Maurice," said young
Nelligan, as he entered the little room where the other sat
at breakfast.
" Have you breakfasted ? " said Scanlan.
" Yes, an hour ago."
"Will you taste that salmon? Well, then, just try Poll
Hanigan's attempt at a grouse-pie; let me tell you, there is
genius in the very ambition ; she got the receipt from the cook
at Cro' Martin, and the imitation is highly creditable. You're
wrong to decline it." And he helped himself amply as be
spoke.
" But this note ? " broke in the other, half impatiently.
72 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"Oh — ay — the note; I'm sure I foi'got what I wrote; -what
was it about ? Yes, to be sure, I reruember now. I want you
to make yourself known, up there. It is downright folly, if
not worse, to be keeping up these feuds and differeuces in
Ireland any longer; such a course might suit the small poli-
ticians of Oughterard, but you and I know bettex', and Martin
himself knows better."
" But I never took any part in the conflict you speak of; I
lived out of it — away from it."
"And are, therefore, exactly suited to repair a breach to which
3'ou 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 our-
selves ; but my opinion is, that, if you like it, you may be as
intimate up there as ever you were at old Hayes's, at the
Priory."
" Then, what would you have me do ? " asked Nelligan.
*' Just pay a visit there this morning ; say that you are
curious to see that great picture — and it is a M^onderful 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 toji of the house;
anything will serve as a reason, and then — why, leave the rest
to chance."
"But really, Maurice, I see no sufficient cause for all this,"
said the youth, timidly.
" Look now, Joe," said the other, drawing his chair closer to
him, and talking in the low and measured tone of a confidence,
— " look now, you're not going to pass your life, as the successor
to that excellent man, Dan Nelligan, of Oughterard, selling
hides, and I'opes, 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 is
better still, they begin to regard you as one of themselves."
SOME KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLIGAK. 73
"But if I do not ambition this — if I even reject it?" said
the othei', impatiently.
" Then all I say is that Trinity College may make wonderful
scholars, but turns out mig'hty weak men of tlie world!"
" Perhaps so ! " said Nelligffn, 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 the other, firml}'-.
"Then what do you say to the alternative — and there is but
one only open to you — what do you think of spending your life
as a follower of Daniel O'Connell ; of being reminded every
day and every hour that you have not a privilege nor a place
that he 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 — know-
ing it all to be true, my boy ! Take service with him once, and
if you leave him you're a renegade ; remember that, and bethink
you, that there's no saying what crotchet he may have in store
for future agitation."
"But I never purposed any such part for myself," broke in
Nelligan.
" Never mind, it will fall to your lot for all that if you don't
quickly decide against it. What's Simmy Crow staring at?
Look at him down there, he's counting every window in the
street like a tax-gatherer." And he pointed to the artist, who,
shading his eyes with one hand, stood peering at every house
along the little street. " What's the matter, Simmy ? " cried
he, opening the casement.
" It's a house I'm looking for, down here, and I forget which
it is ; bother them, they're all so like at this time of the year
when they're empt}'."
"Are j^ou in search of a lodging, Simm}'?"
"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 'facade,' 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 ai'tist;
"but" — and he lowered his voice to a whisper as he spoke —
*' he's an elegant study — as fine a head and face and as beautiful
a beard as ever you saw. I met him at Kyle's Wood a week
ago, begging; and what with his fine forehead and deep-set
74 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
blue eyes, his long white hair, and his great shaggy eyebrows,
I said to myself: ' Belisavius,' says I, 'by all that's grand — a
Moses, a Marino Paliero, or a monk in a back-parlour discours-
ing to an old skull and a vellum folio — any one of these,' says
I, 'not to speak of misers, money-lenders, or magicians, as well;*
and so I coaxed him down here on Saturday last, and put him
somewhere to sleep, with a good supper and a pint of spirits,
and may I never, if I know where I left him."
"Three days ago?"
" Just so ; and worse than all, I shut up the place quite dark,
and only made a hole in the roof, just to let a fine Rembrandt
light fall down on his head. Oh, then, it's no laughing matter,
Maurice ! Sure if anything happened to him "
" Your life wouldn't be worth sixpence before any jury in the
county."
" Begad ! it's what I was thinking ; if they wouldn't take it
as a practical joke."
" You're looking for ould Brennan ! " cried a weather-beaten
hag; "but he's gone to Oughterard for a summons. You'll pay
dear for your tricks this time, anyhow."
" Come up here, Simmy, and never mind her," said Scanlan;
then, turning to Nelligan, he added, "There's not such a cha-
racter in the county ! "
" I want my friend, Mr. Nelligan, here — Mr. Nelligan — Mr.
Crow — I want him, I say, to come up and have a look at the
great ' Historical ' — eh, Simmy ! — 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, may-
hap, is like, but he's hard and stiff, and out of drawing; and
Lord Clare is worse. It's in the Low Countries you'd see por-
traits, real portraits ! men that look down on you out of the
canvas, as if ijou were the intruder, there, and that they were
waiting to know what brought you. A sturdy old Burgomaster,
for instance, with a red-brown beard and a fierce pair of eyes,
standing up firm as a rock on a pair of legs that made many a
drawbridge tremble as he walked home to dinner on the Grand
Canal, at Rotterdam, after finishing some mighty bargain for
half a spice island, or paying a million of guilders down as a
dowry for that flaxen-haired, buxom damsel in the next frame,
liook at the dimples in her neck, and mark the folds in her
SOME KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE I«ELLIGAS. 75
satin. Isn't she comely, and calm, and haughty, and house-
wifery, all together ? Mind her foot, it isn't small, but see the
shape of it, and the way it presses the ground — ay, just so — my
service to you; but you are one there's no joking with, even if
one was alone with you." And he doffed his hat, and bowed
obsequiously as he spoke.
" You're an enthusiast for your art ? " said Nelligan, interested
by the unmistakable sincerity of his zeal.
" I am, sir," was the brief reply.
"And the painter's is certainly a glorious career."
" If for nothing else," burst in Crow, eagerly, " that it can
make of one like me — poor, ignorant, and feeble, as I am — a
fellow-soldier in the same army with Van Dyke, and Titian, and
Velasquez — to know that in something that they thought, or
hoped, or dared, or tried to do, I too have my share ! You
think me presumptuous to say this ; you are sneering at such a
creature as Simmy Crow for the impudence of such a boast,
but it's in humility I say it, ay, in downright abject humility ;
for I'd rather have swept out Rembrandt's room, and settled his
rough boards on Cuyp's easel, than I'd be a — a — battle-axe
guard, or a lord-in- waiting, or anything else you like, that's
great and grand at Court."
"I envy you a pursuit whose reward is in the practice rather
than in the promise," said Nelligan, thoughtfully. " Men, like
myself, labour that they may reach some far-away land of
rewards and successes, and bear the present that they may
enjoy the futm'e."
"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 horse-racing and cock-fight-
ing
" So she did," said Scanlan, interrupting, with some con-
fusion. " She said somebody had told her of young Nelligan.
She called you 'Young Nelligan.' "
" No, no ; it was to myself she said it, and the words were,
'Mr. Joseph Nelligan;' and then, when her uncle said, 'Why
don't we know him ? "
" My dear Simmy, you make a most horrible confusion when
you attempt a story — out of canvas. Mind, I said out of
7Q THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
canvas; for I confess that in your grand 'Historical,' the
whole incident is admirably detailed. I've just said to my
friend here, that he has a great pleasure before him, in seeing
that picture."
"If you'll do me the 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 with n
Nelligan's, and leading him away to another part of the room •
" that fellow is little better than an idiot. But I was just going
to tell you what Martin said. ' You are intimate with young
Nelligan,' said he; 'you know him well, and you could possibly
do, without awkwardness, what with more formality might be
difficult. Don't you think, then, that he would possibly waive
ceremony ' "
" I must be oflF," broke in Crow, hastily. " I have a sitting
at twelve o'clock, so I hope we shall see you at seven, Mr.
Kelligan — your note said seven, sharp." And without waiting
for more, he seized his hat and hurried down the stairs.
" A downright fool ! " said Scanlan, angrily. " Mr. Martin
said he'd write to you, if — if — if in fact you stood upon that
punctilio ; but that he'd be all the better pleased if you'd just
accept acquaintance as freely as he offered it, and come and
dine there to-day, like a friend."
" Isn't there, or has there not, been some difference between
him and my father ? " asked Joe.
" A trifle — and a mistake ; the kind of thing that two men
of calm heads, and common sense, could have settled in five
minutes, and which, to say the truth, Martin was right in
throughout. It's all passed and over now, however, and it
would be worse than foolish to revive it. There's Miss
Martin ! " cried he, " and I have a word to say to her ; " and
hurried off, without waiting for more. As he passed from the
room, however, a letter fell from his pocket, and as Nelligan
stooped to take it up he saw that it was addressed to himself.
He looked hesitatingly at it for a moment or two, scarcely
knowing whether or not he ought to break the seal. " It was
meant for me, at all events," said he, and opened it. The con-
tents were as follows :
"Mr. Martin presents his respects to Mr. Joseph Nelligan,
and will feel happy if — excusing the want of formal introduction
— Mr. Nelligan will admit him to the honour of acquaintance
and give him the pleasure of his society at dinner, to-morrow
SOME KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLIGAN. 77
at seven o'clock. Mr. Martin does not hesitate to say, that to
accept this unceremonions 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 Nelligau's question to him-
self> as he descended the stairs and gained the street. He was
not sorry that Scanlan was not in sight, and hastened home-
ward to think over this strange communication. Joe well
knew that his mother was not peculiarly endowed with worldly
wisdom or acuteness, and yet such was his need of counsel at
the moment, that he determined, at least in part, to lay the case
before her. " She can certainly tell me," said he, " if there be
any reason why I should decline this proposal." And with this
resolve he entered the cottage.
"Don't you remember Catty Henderson, Joe?" said his
mother, as he came into the room, and presenting' a young girl,
very plainly but neatly dressed, who arose to receive him with
an air of well-bred composure — " Catty, that used to be your
playfellow, long ago ? "
"I didn't know you were in Ireland, Miss Henderson. I
should never have recognised you," said Nelligan, in some con-
fusion,
" Nor was I till a few days back," said she, in an accent very
slightly tinged with a foreign pronunciation. " I came home
on Tuesday "
"Isn't she grown, Joe? and such a fine girl, too. I always
said she'd be so; and when the others would have it that your
nose was too long for the rest of your featui'es, 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 w ent on : "I made her stay till you e<*me back,
Joe, for I wanted her to see what a tall creature you are, and
not more than twenty, her own age to a month ; and I told her
what a genius you turned out, indeed to the surprise of us all,
and myself especially."
*' Thank you, mother," said he, smiling.
*' No, indeed, my dear, '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
78 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIK.
sure I don't know how many hundreds a year in land — ay,
Catty, in broad acres; just like any squire in the county.
Well, well, there's many a change come over the country since
you were here — how many years is it now ? "
" Upwards of twelve," said the young girl.
*' Dear me, how time flies. It seems like yesterday that you
and Joe had the measles together, in the yellow room up at
Broom Lodge, and your poor mother was alive then, and would
insist on giving you everything cool to drink, just because you
liked it, though I told her that was exactly the reason it was
sure to be bad for you, for there's nothing so true in life — that
everything we wish for is wrong."
" An unpleasant theory, certainly," said Catty, laughing, " but
I hope not of universal application, for I have been long wish-
ing to see you again."
" Well, well, who knows whether it may be good or bad,"
said she, sighing; "not but I'm pleased to sec you growing up
the image of your poor dear mother — taller, maybe, but not so
handsome, nor so genteel-looking ; but when you have your
trials and troubles, as she had, maybe that will come too, for I
often reiuarked, there's nothing like affliction to make one
genteel."
" Why, mother, you are profuse in unhappy apothegms this
morning-, 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
establishment, if that could be accomplished."
A very slight flush — so slight as to be nearly imperceptible
— crossed the young girl's cheek, but not a syllable escaped
her, as Mrs. Nelligan resumed.
" And there was an excellent opening the other day at the
Post here, in the circulating library way, and lending out a
newspaper or two. I don't know how much you might make
of it. Not but maybe you'd rather be companion to a lady, or
what they call a ' nervous invalid.' "
" That, too, has been thought of," said the girl, smiling, " but
S«WE KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLTGAN. 79
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. ISTot
but T hope you'll agree better than you did then. You were
the torment of my life, the way 3'ou used to fight."
" I couldn't think of trespassing on Mr. Joseph's time ; I
should be quite ashamed of imposing such trouble on him. So
good-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, Joseph, you're to be here at four, for I
asked Mrs. Cronan to dinner."
"Oh, that reminds me of something," said Joe, hurriedly;
and he leaned over his mother's chair, and whispered to her,
" Mr. Martin has invited me to dine with him to-day ; here is
his note, which came to me in rather a strange fashion."
'* To dine at the Nest ! May I never. But I scarcely can
believe my eyes," said Mrs. Nelligan, in ecstasy. "And the
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 ? "
" What will you do, but go ; what else would you do ? I'd
like to know. What will they say at the Post when they hear
it?"
" But I want you to hear how this occurred."
" Well, well ; I don't care — go you must, Joe. But there's
poor Catty walking away, all alone; just overtake her, and say
that a sudden invitation from the Martins — mention it as if you
were up there every day "
But young Nelligan did not wait for the conclusion of this
artful counsel, but hurrying after Catty Henderson, overtook
her as she had gained the beach.
" I have no need of an escort, Mr. Joseph," said she, good-
humouredly. " I know every turn of the way here."
" But you'll not refuse my companionship ? " said he. " We
kave 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,"
60 THE MARTINS OF JRO' MARTIN.
said he, after a pause ; " but if my memory serves me truly, it
was upon this very pathway vfe once swore to each other vows
of a very different kind. Do you recollect anything of that,
Miss Henderson ? "
" I do, Mr. Joseph," said she, with a sly half-glance as she
uttered the last word.
"Then why 'Mr. Joseph?'" said he, half reproachfully,
"Why 'Miss Henderson?'" said she, with a malicious smile
at the other's confusion, for somehow Joseph's manner was far
less easy than her own.
" I scarcely know why," replied he, after a short silence,
" except that you seem so changed — and I myself, too, am
probably in your eyes as much altered — from what we both
were, that — that "
" That, in short, it would be impossible to link the past with
the pi'esent," said she, quickly ; " and you were quite right.
I'm convinced the effort is always a failure, and prejudices
in a hundred ways the good qualities of those who attempt
it. Let us, therefore, begin our acquaintance here — learn to
know each other as we are — that is, if we are to know each
other at all,"
" Why do you say that?" asked he, eagerly.
"For many reasons. We may not meet often; perhaps not
at all; perhaps under circumstances Avhere to renew intimacy
might be difficult. Assuredly, although the path here might
once have sufficed us, our roads in life lie widely apart, now, and
the less we travel together the more we shall each go towards
his own goal, and — and the less regret we shall feel at parting;
and so now, good-by ! "
"You wish 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 indif-
ference 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 otlier quality, what-
ever it might bo, than ho had. At all events, he was ill at ease
and diacouteuted. Then he doubted whether he ought to have
SOME KXOTTT POIXTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLIGAN. 81
taken her at her word when she talked of parting. It might,
possibly, have been meant by her to evoke some show of resist-
ance on his part — that same inequality of station she seemed to
hint at might, perhaps, demand from him a greater deference.
In fact, whichever way he turned the matter over, he saw little
cause for self-gratnlation, nor did he discover that it mended
matters w-hen he tried to accuse her of French frivolity, and
such other traits as he fancied of foreign origin.
In this not over-pleasant mood was it that he re-entered the
cottage, where his mother was busy in preparing a very formid-
able cravat for the approaching dinner-party.
"Ah, Joe!" said she, anxiously, "if you were to dress now,
and then stay quiet, you'd be quite fresh when the time came ;
for remember, it's not like your father you are, that has the
world about him, and can converse about everything that comes
uppermost ; but with all your learning, you know, you alwa^'s
feel somehow "
"Stupid, mother?"
" Not stupid, my dear, but depressed — out of spirits in society ;
bO that my advice to you is, now, dress yourself in good time,
take a small glass of ginger~coi-dial, and throw your eye over
the second chapter of ' Social Hints,' with an account of con-
versation before and at dinner, and some excellent advice about
* compliments, meet for every season of the year.' "
" Do you think such preparations quite necessary, mother ? "
asked Joe, 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 Chancery suit; if you touch politics, or religion, it will be
worse again. The Martins, I hear, never play cards, so you
can't allude to them; and they'll be too grand to know anything
about poor Miss Cuddy going off with the sergeant of police, or
what Con Kelly did with his aunt's furniture."
" So that really the topics open to me are marvellously few."
" Well, there's shooting; but to be sure you know nothing
about that, nor fishing either; and I suppose farming, if you
did understand it, wouldn't be genteel. Indeed, I see little that
isn't dangerous, except the dearness of evoi'ything. 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 rerj melancholy fact, my dear; and so I said to Betty
7
82 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARXIN.
Gargai), yesterday. * It's well for f/ow,' 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 tho
prime pieces, and veal not to be had under eightpence.' They
talk of the poor, indeed ! but sure they never suffer from a rise
in butcher's meat, and care nothing at all what tea costs. I
assure you I made the tears come into her eyes, with the way I
described our hardships."
"So that this will be a safe subject for me, mother?"
*' Perfectly safe, my dear, and no ways mean, either ; for I
always remarked that the higher people are, the stingier they
are, and the more pleasure they take in any little sharp trick
that saves them sixpence. And when that's exhausted, just
bring in the Rams."
" The Rams ! "
" I mean my aunt Ram, and my relations in Wexford. I'm
sure, with a little address, you'll be able to show how I came to
be married beneath me, and all the misery it cost me."
" Well, mother, I believe I have now ample material," said
Joe, rising, with a lively dread of an opening which he knew
well boded a lengthy exposition, " and to my own want of skill
must it be ascribed if I do not employ it profitably." And with
this he hurried to his room to prepare for the great event.
The "Gentlemen of England" do not deem it a very for-
midable circumstance to repair towards seven, or half-past, to a
dinner-party, even of the dullest and most rigid kind. There is
a sombre " routine" in these cases, so 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 enjoy-
ment; 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 \vell could be. He was not, there-
fore, without a certain sense of anxiety as to the conversational
requisites for such occasions. Would the company rise to
themes, and places, and people of which he had never as much
ai heard ? or would they ti'eat of ordinary events, and if so, on
SOME KNOTTY POINTS THAT PUZZLED JOE NELLIGAN. 83
what terms ? If politics came to be discussed, would Mr.
Martiu expect him to hear in silence opinions from which he
dissented ? Dare he speak his sentiments, at the cost of direct-
ing' 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 Scaulan were guests, he too
might pass muster without reproach ; but he did not remember
this, or at least it failed to impress him sufficiently. Nor was
his dread without a certain dash of vanity, as he thought of
the contrast between the humble place he was perhaps about to
occupy at a great man's table, and the proud one he had
achieved in the ranks of scholarship and science. Thus musing,
he sauntered slowly along till he found himself in front of the
little garden of the Osprey's Nest. He looked at his watch —
it was exactly seven; so he pulled the bell, and entered.
/— 2
8A THE MARTINS OF CEO* MABTDI,
CHAPTER IX.
THE MARTIN ARM 3.
In tte small and not over-neat parlour of the Martin Arms
at Oughterard, a young man sat at his breakfast, at times, casting
his eyes over the columns of the Vindicator, and anon, strolling
to the window to watch the gathering of the country people at
the weekly market. The scene was one of that mingled bustle
and languor so characteristically Irish. Cart-loads of turf,
vegetables, fruit, or turkeys blocked up the narrow passage
between booths of fancy wares, gilt 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 mon-
strosity, 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
ennui down Rotten-row.
Jack Massingbred, for he was the traveller, whose straw hat
and knapsack stood upon a table near, was amused at a scene
so full of its native characteristics. The physiognomy, the
dress, the bearing of the people, their greetings as they met,
their conduct of a bargain, all bespoke a nation widely differing
o
THE MARTIN ARMS. 85
from the sister country, and set him a dreaming as to how it
was that equality of laws might very possibly establish
anything but equality of condition amongst people so dis-
similar.
While thus musing, his eye chanced to rest upon the half-
efiaced inscription over a shop door in front, and where the
name of Daniel Nelligan figured as " licensed for all kinds of
groceries and spirits." " ISTelligan," repeated he to himself; "I
shall certainly quiz my friend Joe, when we meet, about his
namesake in Oughterard. How good it would be to pick up
some details of our friend opposite to torment him with. What
rare fun to affect to have discovered a near relative in this man
of hides, glue, sugar, and Jamaica rum ! Eh, gad, I'll try it."
And with this resolve he crossed the street at once, and soon
found himself in the compact crowd which thronged the door-
way of this popular shop.
It was, indeed, a busy scene, since many who were there
came as much sellers as buyers, giving all the complexity of
barter to their several transactions. Here, was a staid country-
woman exchanging her spunyarn, or her "cloth," as it is
called, for various commodities in tea, candles, and such like ;
here, a farmer, w^ith a sample of seed oats in his pocket-
handkerchief, of which he wanted the value in certain farm
utensils; here, was another, with a stout roll of home-made
frieze to dispose of; some were even fain to offer a goose or a
hen as the medium for a little tobacco, or some equally tempting-
luxury of cottier life. But there was another class of customers,
who, brushing their way through the throng, made for a small,
dingy-looking chamber behind the shop, in which Mr. Nelligan
performed the functions of banker and money-lender, discount-
ing small bills, advancing loans, and transacting all the various
duties of a petty capitalist ; means by which, it was alleged, he
bad already amassed a very ample fortune.
An announcement in writing on the glass-door of this
sanctum informed Massingbred that "bank-notes" were ex-
changed, and " small loans advanced on good security," suggest-
ing to him at once the means of opening an acquaintance with
the interior. Without any very definite purpose, however, he
now found himself one of a very closely-packed crowd within
the chamber. At a small desk, around which ran a railing of
about a foot in height, serving, as it were, to " filter the stream "
of solicitation that poured in upon him, sat a dark-eyed,
bilious-looking man of about fifty ; a black wig cut in two deep
86 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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, dis-
trust and suspicion giving their entire expression — qualities it
was to be owned in very active employment in the intercourse
of his daily life.
The anxious looks around him — careworn, eager, tremulous
with anxiety as they were, seemed the very opposite to his own,
full of the security that a strong purse bestows, and stern in
the conscious strength of his affluence.
" It won't do, Hagan," said he, with a half-smile, as he pushed
back through the grating a very dirty discoloured piece of paper.
" You'll be off 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 marryin' the
daughter left me low in cash ; but with the blessing of God and
your help "
"I hope you're more certain of the blessing than the help.
What's this with 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 his eyes filled up and his lip trembled convulsively;
*' don't take the hope out of my heart all at onst. Look at
them again, your 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, and I wouldn't
give you sixpence for sixty thousand of them. Take him out
in the fresh air — give him a mouthful of water," added he,
hastily, as the wretched countryman staggered back, sick, and
almost fainting with the sad tidings.
"Mrs. Mooney," said he, addressing a pale, mild- featured
woman in a widow's cap and black gown, " you can't expect to
hear from Dublin for a week or ten days to come. It takes
some time to administer; but if you are in want of a few
pounds **
THE MARTIN ARMS. 87
"No, sir, thank yon," 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. " 1
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' "
" Indeed you wouldn't, Miles, not a bit more than I'd go and
take the law of an old friend and neighbour."
" Faix, I never thought you would," said the stout man,
wiping his forehead, and appearing as if he had forgotten his
wrath.
"And now. Miles, what about that water-course?" said
Nelligan, good-humouredly ; " are you content to leave it to
any two fair men "
As he got thus far, his eye for the first time fell upon Mas-
singbred, who, with folded arms, was leaning against a wall, an
attentive spectator of the whole scene.
"That is a stranger yonder; what can he want here?" said
Nelligan, who watched the attentive look of Massingbred's face
with considerable distrust. He whispered a few words into tlie
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 an^-thing
for your honour ? "
"For me? oh, you spoke to mo?" said Massingbred, suddenly
recalled to himself. "Yes, to be sure; I wanted to know — that
is, I was thinking " And he stopped to try and remember
by what device he had purposed making Mr. Nelligan's acquaint-
ance.
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 Nelli
gan, in a tone which very palpably demanded the reason of hii
presence there.
88 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
Jack Massingbred was eminently " cool ;" that is, lie was poa-
sessed 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 un-
abashed, and yet now, in presence of this shrewd-looking and
very commonplace joersonage, 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.
Kelligan'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 strol-
led in, half inadvertently, and apologising for the intrusion, to
withdraw ; but his pride was offended at the notion of defeat
this conduct implied, and with an assumption of that conven-
tional impudence far more natural to him, he said :
" It was your name, sir, attracted me ; the name ' Nelligan,'
which I read over youi- door, being that of a very dear and
valued friend of mine, suggested to me to inquire whether you
might not be relatives."
The cool indifference which accompanied these words, uttered
as they were in a certain languid drawl, were very far from
predisposing Nelligau in favour of the speaker; while the pre-
tence 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,"
di-ily responded he.
" Very possibly," replied Jack, with all his accustomed ease.
" I know little or nothing of Ireland. Your namesake, or your
relative, perhaps, was a college friend of mine, but to what
part of the country he belonged I never knew."
The words, a " college friend," roused the other's anxiety, and
leaning forward eagerly, and dropping his voice to a whisper,
he said,
" Where ? In what College may I ask, sir ? "
"In Trinity, Dublin."
" The Medallist of this year, you mean ? " said the other,
almost breathless in his anxiety.
" Just so. The same fellow who has been sweeping away all
the honours of his day. You have heard of him, it would
seem ? "
" He is my son, sir. I'm Joe Nelligan's father ! "
Massingbred's astonishment did not betray itself by any
MARTIN ARMS. 89
change of feature; not a word escaped him ; but his eye ranged
over the scene around him, and came back to rest upon old
Nelligan's face with an expression of the cahnest meaning.
" What a fortunate accident — for me, I mean," continued he.
" Joe and I are very dear friends, and it is a great happiness for
me to make his father's acquaintance. Is he with you now ? "
"No, sir; he's at the sea — a place called Kilkieran, about
twenty miles away; but we'll have him back by to-morrow if
3'ou'll stay with us, and I'm sure you'll not refuse me that
pleasure. The young g^eutleman who is my sou's friend, is
mine also, if he'll permit me to call him so; and now just tell
me what name shall I say ? — who is it that I'm to tell Joe has
arrived here ? "
" Say that Jack Massingbred is come, and I'll lay my life on't
you'll see him here as fast as may be."
"And now, Mr. Massingbred, just take up your quarters with
us. Where are you stopping ? I'll send over the boy for your
trunks, for I needn't say that this must be your home while you.
stay at Oughterard." The genial tone of warm hospitality in
which he now spoke made him seem a very different man from
the hai'd-featured old money-lender he had appeared when Jack
first beheld him, and Massingbred returned his cordial shake
hands with a pressure equal to his own, while he said,
" Be assured that I accept your offer most heartily. My
whole baggage is a knapsack and a fishing-rod, so that if you
admit me ^s your guest you must dispense with all beyond the
very humblest requirements. I have no coat, except this on
me ; and, when I brush my hair, I have dressed for dinner."
" You are amongst very humble people, Mr. Massingbred — a
country shopkeeper, and his wife, and son — and they'll be only
too happy to feel that you don't despise their company. Come,
and I'll show you your room." And so saying, Nelligan led
him up a narrow stair, and at the end of a corridor opened a
door into a neatly furnished chamber, which looked out into a
sj^acious gai'den. The whole interior was scrupulously clean
and comfortable ; and as Jack surveyed his new dominions, he
inwardly blessed his good fortune that had piloted him into
such a haven.
" I'll just step down and write to Joe. Meanwhile, you'll
have your things brought over to you. Make yourself at home
here — at least, as much as you can in such a place — and when
you want anything, just ask for it." And with these words old
Nelligan left him to his own thoughts.
90 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
Whatever savoured of an adventure was the delight of Jack
Massingbred. He was one of those men whose egotism takes
the shape of playing hero to themselves — a tolerably large
category amongst the spoiled children of this world. To be
thrown into any strange or novel position, with associates he
was unused to, and amidst circumstances totally unlike all he
had ever met before, was his great happiness ; and although,
here, there was nothing like actual peril to heighten the zest of
the enjoyment, there was a certain dash of embarrassment in
the situation that increased its piquancy. This embarrassment
lay in his appx'oaching meeting with young Nelligan.
All the reserve his young college friend had maintained with
regard to his family was at once explained ; and Jack began to
think over how often it must have occurred to him to say the
most galling and offensive things in his ignorance of Nelligan's
real station. "If he had been frank and open with me," said
he to himself, " this would never have happened." But therein
Jack made two errors, since Nelligan was in nowise bound to
make such revelations, nor was Massingbred the man to dis-
tinguish himself amongst his associates by a close friendship
with the son of a country shopkeeper. He had been trained iu
a very different school, and taught to estimate his own station
by the standard of his companionship. Indeed, he had wit-
nessed the lenity which met his transgressions when they
occurred in high company, and saw his father pay the debts
he had contracted amongst titled associates with a far more
generous forgiveness than had they taken their origin with
more plebeian friends. " What could have induced the man to
become a Fellow-Commoner," said he, over and over; "it is
such a palpable piece of presumption ? " The truth was. Jack
felt excessively irritated at never having even suspected his
friend's pretensions, and was eager to throw the blame of a
deception where none had ever been practised.
" They told me I should find everything very different here
from in England, but they never hinted at anything like this."
There came then another phrase over his reflections, as he
asked himself, " But what affair is it of mine ? Nelligan never
thrust himself on me, it was I that sought him. He never
proposed introducing me to his family, it was I that made them
out — I, in fact, who have imposed myself upon them. If I
deemed the old grocer infra dig., I need never have known him ;
but I have not felt this to be the case. He may be — indeed,
Joe Nelligan's father ought to be — a very superior fellow,
THE MARTIN ARMS. 91
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 drawers, put out his few books and
papers on the table, and proceeded to make himself perfectly at
home and comfortable in his new quarters.
The embarrassments of selfish men are always lighter than
those of other people, their egotism filling, as it does, such a
very large space in the sea of their troubles. Thus was it that
Massingbred suffered little discomfort at the thought of his
friend Nelligan's probable shame and awkwai'dness, his thoughts
being occupied by how he, clever fellow that he was, had
traced out his home and origin — won, by a few words, the old
father's esteem, and established himself, by his own sharp
wits, a guest of his house,
"It is a downright adventure," said he; he even thought
how the thing would tell afterwards at some convivial meeting,
and set about dramatising to himself his own part in the
incident, to heighten the piquancy of the narrative. Ha
resolved to conform in everything to the habits of the house-
hold — to accommodate himself in all respects to old jSTelligan's
tastes, so that Joe should actually be amazed at the versatile
resources of his nature, and struck with astonishment at this
new evidence of his powers.
Nor was Mr. Nelligan idle during all this time : the thought
of a fellow-Collegian of his son Joe being a guest under his
roof was a very proud and inspiring reflection. It was such a
recognition of Joe's social claims — so flat a contradiction to all
the surmises of those who deprecated his College life, and said
"that old Dan was wrong to put his boy into Trinity" — that
he already regarded the incident as the full earnest of success.
" What would have brought him here, if it wasn't for Joe ?
How would he ever have been under my roof, if he wasn't
Joe's friend?" There was a palpable triumph here that
nothing could gainsay, and with a proud heart he locked up his
desk, resolving to do no more business that day, but make it
one of enjoyment.
"Who will I get to dine with us," thought he, "since Joe
can't have the letter before this evening, and do his best ho
won't be here before morning ? " The question of those who
should fill the places around his board was a diSicuIty he had
never experienced before, for Mr. Nelligan was the first man in
Oughterard, and never had any trouble about his dinner com-
92 THE JIARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
pany. His politics — very decided as they were — drew the line
amongst his acquaintances, and the Liberal party well knew
that they alone were the partakers of his hospitalities. There
now, however, came the thought that the most respectable
residents of the town — Dr. Dasy, of the Infirmary; Mr.
Scanlau, the Attorney ; and Morris Croft, the Adjutant of the
Galway , were Conservatives. These were the fit company
to meet young Massingbred, at least for the first day; after-
wards, he might be introduced to their own set. And yet,
Father Neal Rafferty would be outraged at all this. Peter
Hayes, of the Priory, would never enter his doors again ; and
Peter Hayes had made a will in favour of Joe Nelligon, and
left him every sixpence he had in the world. "What if we
mixed them all together ? " said Dan, fairly puzzled by all the
conflicting interests. "A good dinner, some excellent port
wine, and 'lashings* of whisky-punch, might mould the ingi'e-
dients together — at least, when under the restraint of a
stranger's presence — suflBciently to pass muster ! "
Fi'om his doubts as to how the experiment would succeed,
came others as to whether the guests would condescend to
meet ; and thus his embarrassments went on increasing around
him without his finding a way through them.
" That's an elegant salmon I saw Catty bringing home to
you, NelHgan?" said a red-faced man, with large white
whiskers, and a most watery look in his eyes.
" Yes, Brierley, there's a young gentleman just come down
here — a friend of Joe's in College, to stop a day or two with us."
" A nob ? " said the other, with a wink.
Nelligan nodded assent, and went on :
"And I'm just bothered how to get two or three, to make
company for him."
" If it's grandeur you want, why don't you go over to the
barracks there, and ask Captain Downie and the two others ?
Faix ! it's a hearty welcome you'd get, for they've never
seen the inside of Cro' Martin since the detachment came
here."
" It's my own acquaintances I'd like to ask to my house, Mat
Brierley," said Nelligan, proudly; "and the time was when
they weren't shy of coming there."
"What do you say to Peter Hayes, then?" said the other.
"If you mean to do the civil thing, you'll ask him before he
buys that old highwayman of a goose he's cheapening yonder;
and there's Father Rafferty in the snuff-shop, and Tom
THE MARTIN AKM3. 93
Magennis, and myself; and that makes six, just the riglit
number for the little round table."
Nelligan paused, and seemed to reflect over the proposition.
"You'll be quizzing the Englishman — 'taking a rise' out of
the Saxon, Brierley ? " said Nelligan, distrustfully.
"Devil a bit; I know better manners tlian 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 Neal, will you vouch for him that he won't
attack the Established Church, and abuse the Protestants?"
"That I will, if he's not provoked to it."
" Can you answer for j'ourself. Mat Brierley, that you won't
try to borrow a five-pound note of him before the evening's
over?" said Nelligan, laughingly.
"I've a friend here," said Brierley, tapping the other on the
breast, " that would never see me in want of such a trifle as
that."
Nelligan made no other reply to this speech than a somewhat
awkward grimace, and walked hurriedly on to overtake a tail
and very fat man that was just turning the corner of the street.
This was Father Neal Raflerty. A very flourishing wave of
his Reverence's hand, and an urbane bend of his body, betokened
the gi'acious acceptance he gave to the other's invitation; and
Brierley walked away, muttering to himself: "They may thank
me for this dinner, then; for old Dan was going to feed the
' swells,* if I hadn't stopped him."
94> SHE MABTINS OF CBO' MABTUIL
CHAPTER X.
A DINNER PARTY.
Peoplb wto live much together, in small and secluded
districts, grow at length to feel a very great distrust for all
strangers. Their own ways and their own topics have become
such a perfect world to them, that to feel ignorant of these
themes appears like affectation or contempt; and the luckless
man, who drops down into such a "coterie," is invariably
deemed impertinent or a fool. Jack Massingbred fully appre-
ciated 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 x-egard the stranger presented
to them with feelings far more critical than kindly. Massing-
bred did not go through the ordeal unscathed ; and it was easy
to see in the constraint and reserve of all present, how little his
appearance contributed to the promise of future conviviality.
He made no effort to dispel this impression, for, after saluting
each in turn, he walked to the window, and amused himself
with what was passing in the street.
The dinner was announced at last, and passed off drearily
enough ; none liked to adventure on any topic of local interest,
and they knew of little others. Brierley was stiffly polite; the
Priest blandly tranquil ; the host himself uneasy and anxious ;
and poor old Peter Hayes, of the Priory, downright melancholy.
Massingbred saw the effect he was producing, and saw it with
pleasure. His calculation was this. Had I started "at speed"
with these fellows, they would have blown me at once. All my
efforts to assimilate myself to their tastes, to join in their
A DINNER- PARTY. 95
liabits and adopt their notions, would have been detected in a
trice. They must be brought to believe that they have made a
convert of me themselves; the wider the space between us at
first, the greater will be their merit in making me forget it in
the end.
As the whisky-punch made its appearance, and the bottle of
port was passed up beside the stranger, Massingbred thought
the time was come when he might change his tactics, and open
the campaign in force. " No," said he, as the host pushed the
wine towards him, " I've come over here to try and learn some-
thing about Ireland, and I must give myself eveiy 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 tiy a
new regimen."
" That's your bottle, then, sir. Try that," said Brierley, push-
ing towards him a small square decanter of a faint greenish
fluid,
"That is 'poteen,' Mr. Massingbred," said the host. "It's
the small still that never paid the King a farthing."
" I like it all the better, for that reason," said Jack. " There's
something independent in the very thought of a liquor that
never submitted to the indignity of a guagei'."
"That's not a very English sentiment, sir," eaid the priest,
slily.
"I don't know whether it be or not," rejoined Massingbred;
"but I can neither perceive common sense or justice in a law
that will not allow a man to do what he likes with his own.
Why, if Parliament declared to-morrow you shouldn't boil your
potatoes in Ireland, but eat them fried — or that you shouldn't
make bread of your corn, but eat it with milk as the Neapolitans
do "
"I wish we could do the same here, with all my heart," said
the priest. " It's little wheat or even barley-meal one of our
poor people ever sees."
"A wet potatoe and water is their diet," said old Hayes, as
he sipped his punch.
" I can believe it well," said Massingbred, with great sem-
blance of feeling. "I witnessed dreadful poverty and destitu-
tion as I came along, and I couldn't help asking myself — What
are the gentry about in this country ; do they or do they not see
these things ? If they do, are they indifferent to them ? "
" They are indifferent to them ; or even worse, they rejoice in
96 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARXm.
them," broke in a deep-voiced, energetic-looking man, wlio sat
at the foot of the table, and had, although silent, taken a deep
interest in the conversation. " They see, sir, in the destitution
of Ireland another rivet in the chains of her bondage. As my
'august leader' remarked, it's the rust on the fetters, though —
and if it proclaims the length of the captivity, it suggests the
hope of freedom."
" Mr. Magennis is the dearest friend and trusty agent of Mr.
O'Connell," said Nelligan in a whisper to Massingbred.
"Here's his health, who ever said that!" cried Jack, en-
thusiastically, and as if not hearing the host's observation.
"That's a toast; we'll all drink — and standing, too," ex-
claimed Magennis. " ' Daniel O'Connell, gentlemen ; hip, hip,
hurra ! ' " And the room rang again with the hearty acclama-
tion of the company.
" By Jove ! there was something very fine — it was chivalrous
— in the way he brought the Catholic question to issue at last.
The bold expedient of testing the event by an individual ex-
perience was as clever as it was daring," exclaimed Massingbred.
" You were in favour of the measure then, sir ? " said Father
Neal, with a bland smile that might mean satisfaction or sus-
picion.
" I was always an Emancipationist ; but I am little satisfied
with the terms on which the bill has been passed. I'd have had
no restrictions — no reservations. It should, according to me,
have been unconditional or nothing."
" You've heard the old proverb about half a loaf, sir ? " said
Hayes, with a dry laugh,
"And a poor adage it is, in its ordinary acceptation," said
Jack, quickly. "It's the prompting spirit to many a shabby
compromise ! What disabilities should apply to any of us here,
in regard to any post or position in our country's service, by
reason of opinions which are between ourselves and our own
hearts — I say any of us, because some here — one I perceive is"
— and he bowed to Father Rafierty — "a Catholic; and I for
myself avow, that, if for no other reason than this proscription,
I'd be on this side."
" You're not in Parliament, sir, are you ? " asked old Peter,
■with a seriousness that sorely tested the gravity of those al
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 nay
family, I have not the honour to occupy it."
A DESNER-PARTT. 97
"Are you any relation to Colonel Moore Massingbred, sir?"
asked Magennis.
" His son, sir."
The questioner bowed, and a brief silence ensued ; short as it
was, it enabled Jack to decide upon his next move, and take it.
" Gentlemen," said he, " I'm fully aware that my name is not
a favourite in Ireland ; and shall I own to you, till I came to
this country myself, I half believed that this same humble)
opinion of us was to our credit ! I used to hear such narratives
of Irish barbarism, Irish brutality, priestcraft, superstition, and
Heaven knows what besides, that I fully persuaded myself that
our small repute was very nigh to a eulogium on us. Well, I
came over to Trinity College strongly impressed with the notion
that, because I had gained successes at Oxford, here, I should be
triumphant. It is in no boastfulness I say that I had acquitted
myself well at home; I had attained to rather a reputation.
Well, as I said, I came over to Trinity and pitted myself against
the best man going, and a very pretty beating he gave me.
Yes, gentlemen, he beat me in everything, even in those which
we Oxford men fancy our specialities. I soon learned that I
had not the shadow of a pretension to stand against him, and I
learned, also, that it was no disgrace to me t© be thus vanquished,
since he was not alone the foremost man of his time, but the
best scholar the University had seen for a full century; and
shall I add, as unpretending and as modest in the midst of all
his triumphs as he was unapproachable by all competitors.
And now, gentlemen, I will ask your leave to drink his health ;
doubtless it has been many a time toasted before over the same
table, but none ever more ardently followed the sentiment with
his whole heart than do I in proposing to you, ' Three cheers
for Joe Nelligan.' "
The rambling opening of this brief speech was quite forgotten
in the enthusiasm that greeted its close. In every respect it
was a happy diversion. It relieved the company from a discus-
sion 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 murmm-iug —
"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
8
08 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
filling their glasses and nodding in most friendly fashion to
Massingbred as they drank his health ; while a low murmur of
approbation went round the table, of which he was most un-
mistakably the object.
"Are you fond of shooting, sir?" asked Brierley. "Well,
then, I hope you'll not leave the country without giving me a
day or two up at my little place in the mountains. There's
some snipe left; and, upon my conscience, I'll be proud to see
you at Kilmaccud."
"And there's worse quarters, too !" broke in Magennis. "My
* august leader' spent a day and a half there."
"I'll drive you over there myself," whispered Father Neal,
"if you'll finish the week at the 'Rookery' — that's what they
call the priest's house."
Massingbred accepted everything, and shook hands across tha
table in ratification of half a dozen engagements.
"You don't think I'll let you cheat me out of ray 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."
Guch were the pattering replies that poured in npon him,
while words of intense astonishment at his ignorance were ex-
changed 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 jNIartiu 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 splendour of the furniture and the magnificence
of the whole establishment."
"There's pictures there," said the priest, "that cost the
gran^iather of the present man a quarter of a million ster-
ling."*
" Vv^'liy, the three statues in the hall, they say, are worth ten
thousand pouuds," said Brierley.
A DINNER-PARTY. QB
"' Be gorra ! when a man would give four hundred for a bull,
there's no saying what he'd stop at," broke in Peter Hayes.
" I went up to see him myself, and indeed he's a beauty, there's
no denying it — but four hundred pound ! Think of four
hundred pound!"
" The stable is the best thing in the place," said Fatlier Xeal ;
*' 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 Ii'eland."
"And can break him, too," chimed in Brierley, " I don't care
what his temper is. Let Miss Mary get her hand on him, and
he'll turn out well."
"I'm driving an old chesnut mare this minute that she
trained," said the priest ; " and though 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 oif
his glass, as though toasting her to himself, " and not like any
Martin ever I seen before."
" No pride about her ! " said Brierley.
" I wouldn't exactly say that, Matthew," interposed Father
Neal. "But her pride isn't the common kind."
" She's as proud as Lucifer ! " broke in Nelligan, almost
angrily. "Did you ever see her drive up to a shop-door in
this town, and make the people come out to serve her, point-
ing with her whip to this, that, and t'other, and maybe giv-
ing 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 j
"there's no disputing about her beauty."
"I never saw her in a room," said Magennis; "but my
•august leader' thought her masculine."
" No, IK)," 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 r "
8— «
100 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTITT.
"Always, I don't believe she was ever beyond the bounds of
the county in her life ! "
"And how does she pass her time?" asked he, with some
astonishment.
" She manages the whole estate," said Nelligan ; " her uncle's
a conceited old fool, incapable of anything, and lets her do what
she likes ; and so she drains, and plants, and encloses, makes
roads, bridges, and even 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," chimed in Magennis ; "and she's trying hard to
bring back the old feudal devotion to the Chief, which was the
bane of Ireland. She wants the tenants to have no will of their
own, but just to vote whatever the landlord tells them. She
had the impudence to tell my ' august leader' that they had no
need of him down there — that the county was too poor to waste
its energies in factious squabbles."
"If she'd let the people alone about their religion, I'd think
better of her," said Father ISTeal. "What does she know about
controversial points and disputed dogmas?"
"Maybe you're wrong about that," broke in Peter Hayes.
"She came to me the other day for ten shillings for a school,
and she said, 'Come over, Mr, Hayes; come and tell me if
there's anything you are dissatisfied with.' "
"And did you go?" asked the priest.
" Faix ! I did not," said Peter, with a dry look. " I thought
the visit might cost me ten shillings, and so I stayed at home."
The manner in which he uttered these words produced a
hearty laugh, in which he himself most good-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.**
A DINNER-PARTT. 101
" * First gem of the earth, and first flower of the sea ! * " ex-
claimed Hayes, with enthusiasm.
Nor in the moment was the blunder of his quotation noticed
by any but Massingbred, "You are an admirer of Tommy
Moore, I see, sir ? " said he to the old man.
'• I'm 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 Neal ; we'll not let you off that way.
It's not under this roof that you can make such an excuse ! "
"He'd rather give us something more to his own taste,"
said Brierley. "'To Ladies' eyes around, boys' — eh, Father
RafFerty ? "
"That's my favourite of all the songs he sings," broke in
Magennis.
"Let it be, 'To Ladies' eyes!'" cried Massingbred; "and
we'll drink 'Miss Martin's.' 'I'll warrant she'll prove an
excuse for the glass.' " And he sang the line with such a
mellow cadence that the whole table cheered him.
To the priest's song, given with considerable taste, and no
mean musical skill, there followed in due course others, not
exactly so successful, by Brierley and Magennis, and, at last, by
old Peter himself, who warbled out a wonderful ditty, in a tone
so doleful that two of the company fell fast asleep under it, and
Brierley's nerves were so affected, that, to support himself, he
got most completely drunk, and in a very peremptory tone told
the singer to desist !
" Don't you perceive," cried he, " that there's a stranger pre-
sent — a young English cub — come down to laugh at us ? Have
you no discretion — have you no decency, Peter Hayes, but you
mnst go on with your stupid old 'croniawn' about dimples and
the devil knows what?"
''Another tumbler, Mr. Massingbred — one more?" said the
host, with the air, however, of one who did not exact com-
pliance.
" 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
102 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARIIN.
perceived bronght forth, and wliich at the time we tell of
were not so popular as in our own day.
The priest alone accepted Massingbred's offer of a "weed;"
and Nelligan, opening a door into an adjoining room where tea
was laid, threw also wide a little sash-door that led into the
garden, whose cool and fragrant air was perfectly delicious at
the moment. Jack strolled down the steps and soon lost him-
self in the dark alleys, not sorry to be left alone with his own
thoughts, after a scene in which his convivial powers had been
taxed to no mean extent.
"A clever young fellow! There's stuff in him," said the
priest, in a whisper to Nelligan.
"And no impudence about him," said Brierley; "he's just
like one of ourselves."
" He has a wonderfiil opinion of Joe ! " said Nelligan,
" He's the very man for ray 'august leader,' " said Magenms.
" I'd like to bring them tog'ether ! "
" His father's a Treasury Lord," said Nelligan, swelling at
the thought of his being the host of such company !
"And I'll tell you what, Dan Nelligan," said the priest, con-
fidentially, " talents won't do everything, now-a-days, without
high connections ; mark my words, and see if that young man
doesn't stand high, yet. He has just got every requirement of
success. He has good family, good looks, good abilities, and " —
here he dropped his voice still lower — " plenty of brass. Ay,
Dan, if Joe could borrow a little of his friend's impudence, it
would be telling him something."
Nelligan nodded assentingly ; it was about the only quality
in the world which he could have believed Joe stood in any need
of getting a loan of
" Joe beat him out of the field," said Dan, proudly, " He
told me so himself this morning."
" No doubt ; and he would again, where the contest was a
college one ; but * Life,* my dear friend — life demands other gifts
beside genius."
" Ganius ! " broke in old Hayes, with an accent of the pro-
foundest 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 knows no trade, nor has any livelihood
— who's always borrowing, here, and begging, there — a torment
to his family and a burden to his friends, I set him down at once
for a ' Ganius.' "
" It's not that I was alluding to, Mr. Hajes," said the priest, in
A DES'XEK-PARTY. 103
some iiTitation. "I spoke of real ability, sterling powers
Df 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 upou what he under-
stood. "I watched him to-day at dinner, and I saw that every
remark he made was shrewd and acute, and that whenever the
subject was new to him, he fell into it as he went on talking,
picking up his facts while he seemed to be discussing them !
Take my Avord for it, gentlemen, he'll do ! "
"He doesn't know much about flax, anyhow," muttered old
Hayes.
" He took his punch like a man," said Briei'ley, bearing
testimony on a point where his evidence was sui'e to have
weight.
"He'll do!" said Father Neal once more, and still mora
authoritatively than before.
" Joe carried away every premium from him," said old
Nelligan, with a degree of irritation that proclaimed how little
he enjoyed the priest's eulogy of his guest.
" I know he did, sir ; and no man has a higher respect for
your son's great abilities than myself; but here's how it is, Mr.
Nelligan" — and he drew himself up like a man about to deliver
a px'ofound opinion — •" here's how it is. The mind that can
master abstract science, is one thing; the faculties that can
deal with fellow-mortals, is another. This world is not a
University ! "
" The Lord be praised for that same ! " cried old Hayes, " or
I'm afraid I'd fare badly in it."
"To unite both descriptions of talent," resumed the priest,
oratorically, " is the gift of but few."
"My 'august leader' has them," broke in Magennis.
" Show me the man that can deal with men ! " said Father
Neal, dictatorially.
""Women is twice as hard to deal with!" cried old Hayes.
*' I'll back Nancy Drake against any man in the barony."
" Faith, and I remember her a pretty woman," said Brierley,
who would gladly have enticed the conversation out of ita
graver character. " A prettier girl than Mary Martin herself! "
continued the inexorable Brierley, for the company did not
appear to approve of his diversion.
"We are now discussing politics — grave questions of state,
104 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
sir," said Father Ncal — " for we have come to times when even
the most indifferent and insignificant amongst us cannot refrain
feeling an interest in the progress of our country. And when
I see a fine young man like that there, as one may say going
a-begging for a party, I tell you that we are fools — worse than
fools — if we don't secure him."
*' Do you mean for the borough ? " asked Nelligan.
" I do, sir ; — I mean for the borough ! "
"Not till we have consulted my 'august leader,' I hope,"
broke in Magennis.
"I'm for managing our own affairs ourselves," said the
priest. " What we want is a man of our own ; and it that
young gentleman there will take the pledges we should pro-
pose, I don't know that we'd readily get the like of him."
The silence that now fell upon the party was ominous; it wa3
plain that either the priest's proposition was not fully ac-
quiesced in, or that the mode of announcing it was too abrupt.
Perhaps this latter appeared the case to his own eyes, for he
was the first to speak.
" Of course what I have said now is strictly among ourseIve3,
and not to be mentioned outside of this room ; for until my
friend Dan Nelligan here consents to take the field against the
Martin interest, there is no chance of opening the borough.
Let him once agree to that, and the Member for Oughterard
will be his own nominee."
"Do you really think so?" asked Nelligan, eagerly.
" I know it, sir — and every gentleman at this table knows
it."
A strong chorus in assent murmured around the board.
" It would be a great struggle," muttered Nelligan.
" And a great victory ! " said the priest.
"What a deal of money, too, it would cost!"
" You have the money, Dan Nelligan ; and let me tell you
one thing" — here he leaned over his chair and whispered some
words in the other's ear.
Old Nelligan's face flushed as he listened, and his eyea
sparkled with intense excitement.
" If I thought that — if I only thought that, Father Rafferty
—I'd spend half my fortune on it to-morrow."
" It's as true as I'm a living man," said the priest, solemnly ;
and then with a motion of his hand gestured caution, for
Massingbred was slowly ascending the steps, and about to
enter the room.
A DINNER-PARTY. 105
"With an iustinctive readiness all his own, lie saw in the
embarrassed and conscious looks around that be bad himself
been the object of their discussion, and with the same shrewd-
ness he detected their favourable feeling towards him.
" I have made them my own ! " muttered he to himself.
" He'll do our work well I " said the priest in his heart
100 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAETIir.
CHAPTER XI.
TOTJNG NELLTGAN — AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WATS.
"I RATHER like that young Nelligan," said Martin, the day
after Joseph had made his first appearance at dinner. " He
talks pleasantly, and nothing of a pedant, as I half dreaded he
might be."
" I thought his manner respectful, and very proper for his
station," said Lady Dorothea, with an air of dignity.
" He spoke of politics, too, with less of prejudice, less of class
bitterness, than I could have expected."
" Some policy, perhaps, in that," remarked her ladyship.
" Possibly ! " said Martin, with a careless shrug of the
shoulders.
" He was in a measure on his trial amongst us, and felt the
importance of making a 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 conciliating personage."
" I cannot imagine that the disposition of such a person is a
matter of much moment ; doesn't the man deal in tea, candles,
and such like?"
"That he does, and in loans, and in mortgages too; not to
add, that he exercises a very considerable share of influence in
his town of Oughterard."
" A very shocking feature of the time we live in ! " exclaimed
Lady Dorothea.
"So it may be; but there it is — just like the wet weather,
and the typhus, and the sheep-rot, and fifty other disagreeable
things one can't help."
" But at least they can avoid recurring to them in con-
versation, sir. There is no necessity to open the window when
the look-out is a dreary one."
YOUNG NELLIGAN AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WAY3. 107
Martin made no reply, and a pause of some moments ensued,
" What arrangement did you come to with him about his
party in the borough ? " said she at last.
"I didn't even allude to the topic," replied he, half testily,
" These things are not to be done in that hasty fashion ; they
require management, discretion, and a fitting opportunity, too."
" Why, you talk of your grocer's boy as if he were a Cabinet
Minister, Mr. Martin ; you treat him like a great diplomatist ! "
" It was not exactly on the first occasion of his being in my
house, that I could have broached the matter."
" Which implies that you mean to invite him again."
" Possibly ! " was the abrupt rejoinder.
" And must the odious attorney always be of the party ? "
"i^o, madam, the odious attorney has set out for Dublin;
but I shortly expect here one whom your ladyship will, doubt-
less, 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 categoiy."
" And why should he not, sir ? What have I ever met in
the dreary eighteen years and seven months I have passed
here, except unmitigated self-conceit, vulgarity, and presump-
tion — the very type of all three being your Dublin barrister."
"Their countrymen certainly entertain another estimate of
them," said Martin, laughing, for he had a lazy man's enjoy-
ment of any passionate excitement of another's temper.
"And it was," resumed she, "in some sort, the contrast
presented to such which pleased me in that young man's
manner yesterday. Not but I feel assured that ere long you
and Miss Martin will spoil him."
"I! aunt?" said 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, ]\Iis3
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
viy attentions ? "
"Possibly so, young lady, if not accompanied by the acces-
sories of your rank in life," said Lady Dorothea, haughtily;
" and as to College honours," added slie, after a pause, " they
are like school distinctions, of no earthly value out of the
class-room."
108 THE MARTIXS OF CKO' MARTIN.
" Faith, I don't know that," said Martin. " At least, in my
own experience, I can say, eveiy fellow that has made a figure
in life gave indications of high ability in his College years. I
could go over the names of at least a dozen."
" Pray don't, sir — spare your memory, and spare us. Miss
Martin and I will take it for granted that this young man is
destined to be Lord Chancellor — Ambassador at St. Petersburg
— or anything else you please. I have no doubt that the time
is approaching when such things are very possible."
"It has come already, my lady," said Martin; and in the
manner he uttered the words there was no saying whether the
sentiment was pleasurable or the reverse.
" And yet I trust that there is a little interval still left to us
ere that consummation," said she, with pretentious dignity.
"Birth and blood have not lost all ihe'iv 2'>rcstige!"
" But they soon would," said Mary, " if they feared to enter
the lists against those less well-born than themselves."
*' Miss Martin ! " exclaimed her ladyship, " what words are
these?"
" I hope they are void of offence, aunt. Assuredly I never
conceived that I could wound any susceptibilities here by saying
that the well-born are ready to meet the plebeian on any
ground."
" There is no necessity for such trials. Miss Martin ; the
position of each has been so accurately defined by — by — by
providence," said she, at last, blushing slightly as she uttered
the word, " that the contest is almost impossible."
" The French Revolution reveals another story, aunt, and
tells us, besides, how inferior were the nobles of that country
in the day of struggle."
" Upon my word, these are very pretty notions, young lady.
Have they been derived from the intelligent columns of the
Galway Monitor, or are they the teachings of the gifted Mr.
Scanlan? Assuredly, Mr. Martin," said she, turning to him,
"Papa was right, when he said that the Irish nature was
essentially rebellious.'*
" Complimentai'y, certainly," said Martin, laughing.
" He founded the remark on history. Papa was uncommonly
well read, and used to observe that there seemed something in
the Celtic nature incompatible with that high-souled, chivalrous
loyalty Englishmen exhibit."
" But how much of the Celt have Mary and myself got in
us. if your observation is meant for us. Why, my lady, what
YOUNG NELLIGAN AS INTERPREl'El) IK T.VC ^\AY3, 109
with intermarriage centuries ago, and change of blood ever
since, the distinctive element has been utterly lost."
"And yet we are not English, uncle," said Mary, with some-
thing that smacked of pride. "Confess it: we have our
nationality, and that our people have traits of their own."
"Tiiat they have; but I never heard them made matter of
boastfulness before," said Lady Dorothea, sneeringly.
" Well, aunt, it is not too late to hear it now ; and I, for one,
am proud of my country — not of its political station, for it is
dependent — not of its wealth, for it is poor — but of its genial
courtesy, its free-hearted hospitality, its manly patience under
many a crushing calamity, and, not least of all, its galjantry
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 restlessness of a semi-barbarous
people. Nay, Miss Martin, I'm not going to discuss the
matter. I have lived elsewhere — you have not. I have
acquired habits — prejudices, perhaps you'd call them — in behalf
of twenty things that Irish 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 int(n'C0urse with the natives ! "
exclaimed her ladyship, haughtily. " I detest, on principle, the
Lady Bountiful character. The whole of the hymn-book,
castor-oil, and patent-barley sympathy, is shockingly vulgar.
Like many things, well done at first, it fell into low hands, and
got spoiled."
The tone of sarcasm in which this was spoken made Mary's
cheeks crimson, and the flush spread itself over her neck.
Still she made no reply, but, bending down her head, continued
to work more assiduously.
" When are we to leave this place, Mr. Martin ? " asked her
ladyshi}?, abruptly.
" I believe we are only waiting here till it be your pleasure
to quit."
"And I dj'ing to get away this fortnight past! Some one
certainly told me that Cro' Martin was not ready for us. Was
it you, Miss Martin?"
"No, aunt."
" It ran in my head it was you, then. Well, can we go at
once — to-day — this afternoon ? "
" To-morrow we might, perhaps," said Mary.
110 IBE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTm.
" Scarcely so," said Martin, interposing, " seeing that I have
asked Repton to come down here and see the place."
"But you can drive him over from Cro' Martin. It would
be intolerable, the idea of remaining here just for him. So we
shall go to-morrow. Miss Martin." And with this, uttered in
the tone of an order, her ladyship swept proudly out of the
room, from which Martin, not over-anxious for a tete-a-tete with
his niece, stepped noiselessly at the same moment by another
door.
Scarcely had the door closed behind Lady Dorothea, when it
was reopened to admit Joe Nelligan, who had met her ladyship
in the corridor, and been received with such palpable coldness
of manner, that he entered the room bashful and awkward, and
hardly knowing whether to advance or retire.
"I fear I have made my visit at an untimely hour, Miss
Martin," said he, blushing ; " but the truth is, I know next to
nothing of society and its habits, and if you would only be
kind enough to tell me when I am a transgressor "
" The notion of learning from me is perfect," said Mary,
interrupting 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 the midst of great opportunities."
" But, then, I have not," said Nelligan, gravely, and accept-
ing the speech in all seriousness.
" Well, it comes pretty much to the same thing," said she,
smiling, " since I have profited so little by them."
"I came thus early, however," said he, earnestly, "because I
was impatient to correct an impression which might have
remained from something that fell from me last night. You
smile, I perceive," said he, "that I should attach so much
importance to my own words ! "
" It was not at that I smiled," said Mary, archly.
"No matter, continued he. "It is better, at the cost of a
little wounded vanity, that I should escape a misconception.
When your uncle spoke to me, last night, about the division of
parties in the borough You are smiling again, Miss
Martin ! "
" Don't you perceive, sir, that what amuses me is the
mistaken estimate you have formed of me, by addressing me on
such topics?"
" But I came here expressly to speak to you," said he, with
increased eagerness j "for I have always heard — always under-
TOTJNG NELLIGAN AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WATS. Ill
etood — that none ever took a deeper interest in all that regarded
the country than yourself."
" If you mean, by the country, the lives and fortunes of those
who live in it — the people by whose toil it is 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 laud of whose very geography I am
ignorant."
"But the subject is the same, and the mind which com-
prehends one, could embrace the other."
" In the one, however, 1 can labour usefully and fittingly,
without much risk of mistake — never, indeed, of any mistake
that might prove of serious moment. The other involves great
questions, and has great hazards, perils, to affright stronger
heads than mine ! "
"There is much in what you say," said he, reflectingly,
"There is far more than I am able to express," said she,
warmly. " Just remember, for a moment, that of all the laws
you great and wise men are making, over which you rant and
wrangle, and assail each other so vindictively, how few ever
touch the interests or descend to the fortunes of those for whom
you assume to make them — that the craftiest devices of your
legislation never uproot an old prejudice, nor disturb an
antiquated superstition ; while I, and such as I — and there need
be nothing more humble — can by a little timely help in trouble
• — a little care, or even a little counsel — comfort many a failing
heart — cheer up many a sinking spirit — and, better still, do good
service by teaching the poor man that he is of one family with
those better off than himself, and that he is not an outcast
because he is lowly! "
As Mary went on, her eyes shone more brilliantly, and her
cheeks glowed, till Nelligan forgot even the words she spoke in
admiration of the speaker.
" But here comes my micle," cried she, hastily, " to rescue
you from further amplification of the theme. Come in, uncle,"
• — for Martin was already about to retire — " it is Mr. Nelligan
who wants to speak to you."
"Oh, I was in terror of a regular morning visitor!" said
Martin, shaking the young man's hand cordially. "They
didn't tell me you were here."
" I came, sir," said Joseph, hesitatingly, " to rectify what
might, perhaps, require correction, in an observation I made
112 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
last night. We were talking about the proper basis of a
representation "
"My dear boy," broke in Martin, laughingly, "there's
nothing kills me like asking me to go over the past, either in
reading an old letter, or recalling an old conversation. And as
to calling on me to justify something I once defended in argu-
ment, I'd give up the cause at once, and say I was all wrong, in
preference."
" Then I need not fear you will hold me responsible "
" Not for anything, except your pledge to dine here to-
mori'ow at seven."
Notwithstanding all the ease and frankness of Martin's
manner — and as manner it was perfect — the young man felt
far from satisfied. His want of breeding — that cruel want
strong enough to mar the promise of high ability, and even
impair the excellence of many a nM.e nature — seemed to hold
him fast bound to the object of his visit. He had come for au
explanation, and he couldn't go away without it. Mary read
his difficulty at once, and as she passed him to leave the room,
said, in a low voice, " To-morrow evening."
Nelligan started at the words, and his face became scarlet.
What could she have meant ? Was it that she wished him to
come, and had thus condescended to remind him of his promise ?
or was it to suggest a more fitting moment to return to the late
discussion ?
"Are you coming to luncheon, Nelligan?" said Martin,
rising.
"No, sir; not to-day. I have a call — a visit — some miles
ofi"." 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 than he
should have been with the knottiest problem of the " Principia,"
he quitted the house and strolled homewards.
He was led along the shore, and consequently in front of
that straggling row of cottages which formed the village. It
chanced to be the last day of the month, and, bj the decree of
the almanack, the close of the bathing season. The scene then
going forward was one of unusual and not unpicturesque con-
fusion. It was a general break-up of the encampment, and all
were preparing tc depo.rt to their homes, inland. Had young
TOUNG NELLIGAN AS INTERPRETED IN TAVO WAYS. 113
Nellig-an been — what he was not — anything of a humorist, he
might have been amused at the variety of equipage and costume
around him. Conveyances the most cumbrous and most rickety,
drawn by farm horses, or even donkeys, stopped the way before
each door, all in process of loading by a strangely attired
assemblage, whose Welsh wigs, flannel dressing-gowns, and
woollen nightcaps, showed how, by a common consent, all had
agreed to merge personal vanity in the emergency of the
moment. The innumerable little concealments which had
sheltered many a narrow household, the various little strata-
gems that had eked out many a scanty wardrobe, were now
abandoned with a noble sincerity; and had there been a cork
leg or a glass eye in the company, it would not have shrunk
from the gaze of that open-hearted community.
Such of the travellers as had taken their places were already
surrounded with the strangest medley of household gods it is
possible to conceive. Like trophies, birdcages, candlesticks,
spits, cullenders, fenders, and bread-baskets bristled around
them, making one marvel how they ever got in, or, still more,
how they were ever to get out again ; the croaking of invalids,
with crying children, barking terriers, and scolding owners,
making a suitable chorus to the confusion.
Still, amidst all the discomforts of the moment, amidst the
last wranglings with landlords, and the last squabbles over
broken furniture and missing movables, it must be owned that
the prevailing temper of the scene was good-humour and jollity.
The Irish temperament seems ever to discover something con-
genial in those incidents of confusion and bustle which to other
people are seasons of unmitigated misery; and even out of its
own sources of discomfiture can derive matter for that quaint
humour with which it can always regard life. In this wise
was it that few now dwelt much upon their own inconveniences,
so long as they were free to laugh at those of their neigh-
bours.
Before he was well aware of it, young Nelligan found himself
in the very midst of this gathering, whose mirthful accents
suddenly subsidid 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 "con-
venicncy," in which, with an air of stately dignity, Mi's. Cronan
sat enthroned on a backgammon-table, with a portentous-look-
ing cap-case in her lap.
" My mother will be soiu'y not to have seen you before you
114 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
went away, Mrs. Cronan," said he to that lady, whose demure
and frig'id 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.
" Not with the society of your distinguished acquaintances at
' the IS'est,' sir !" the sarcastic import of which reply was more
in the manner than the mere words; while the old Captain
murmured :
" Begad, she gave it to him there— a regular double-headed
shot ! "
"We hope to follow you by the end of the week," said
Nelligau, trying to seem at ease.
"If you can tear yourselves away, I suppose," said Miss
Busk, through a double veil of blue gauze, for that lady's
auburn ringlets reposed at the moment in the small mahogany
casket beside her.
"There is not much attraction in the spot just now," said
Joseph, smiling.
"Not for the like of us, perhaps, sir," retorted Mrs. Cronan
— " not for persons in our station ; but your fashionable people,
I believe, always prefer a place when the vulgar company have
left it."
*' Good again — grape and canister ! " chuckled out the Captain,
who seemed to derive a high enjoyment from the scene.
" Would you move a little to one side, Mr. Nelligan ? " said
the Doctor; "my pony won't stand."
" Oh, he's mettlesome," said Joe, good-humouredly, as he
stepped out of the way.
" That he is, sir, though he never was leader in a four-in-
hand ; but, you see, poor creatures of quadrupeds forget them-
selves down here, just like their betters ! "
And the success of this sally was acknowledged by a general
laugh fiKDm the company. The tone of the speakers, even
more than their words, convinced Joseph that, fi-om some cause
or other, he was the object of their sarcasms; and although
slow to take offence — even to the verge of what many might
have called an unfeeling indifference — he felt their treatment
YOUNG NELLIGAN AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WATS. 115
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," mut-
tered he, as he sauntered slowly on. "People treat me as
though I were playing some deep game to their detriment — I,
who have no game — almost no future ! " added he, despondingly.
" For what avails it to attain eminence amidst such as these ;
and, as for the others, I was not born for them."
To these moody thoughts succeeded others still gloomier. It
had only been within a short time back that the young man
had begun to appreciate the difficulties of a position to which
his early successes imparted inci'easing 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 yoa'll be siirprised to see. I say no more, but
that I expect you by dinner-time. — Yours ever,
"D.N."
" "What does that mean, Joe ? " asked his mother.
He only shrugged his shoulders in reply.
"And who can it be?" said she, again.
" Some of the townspeople, of course," said he, carelessly.
" No, no, Joe ; it must be a stranger. Maybe it's Morgan
Drake; his aunt expected him back from Jamaica before
Christmas. Or it's Corny Dwyer's come home from Africa;
you know he went on the deploring expedition "
"Exploring! mother; exploring!"
"Well, exploring, or deploring — it's all the same — he went
four years ago, and all the tidings they've had of him was an
elephant's tooth he sent home to his stepfather. I know it's
Corny, for your father always liked him and the funny stories
he told."
" Perhaps so 1 " replied Joe.
■ 9— «
116 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
"I wonder, is he grown any bigger? lie was little better than
a dwarf when lie went away, and the same age as yourself.
No, indeed, he was older — fourteen months older. It was Catty
Henderson was running in my head. Isn't she a fine young
woman, Joe ? "
" Remarkably so," said he, with more animation in his tone.
"A little bit too haughty-looking and proud, maybe, con-
sidering her station in life, and that she has to go to ser-
vice "
" Go to service, mother ? "
"To be sure she has. If they can't get her a place as a
governess or a companion, she'll have to take what she can get.
Her father's married again, my dear Joe ; and when men do
that ! " And here Mrs. Nellig'an uplifted her hands and eyes
most expressively. "Ay, indeed," continued she, with a heavy
sigh, " and if it was once, it was fifty times, Catty's poor mother
said to me, ' Sarah,' says she — she never called me Sally, but
always Sarah — 'Sarah,' says she, 'I've but one comfort, and
that is, that Catty will never want a mother while you live.
You'll be the same to her as myself — just as fond, and just as
forgiving; ' them was her very words ! "
"And I hope you have never forgotten them, mother?" said
Joe, with emotion.
"Don't you see I haven't; an't I repeating them to you this
minute?"
"Yes; but I mean the spirit and the meaning of them,"
rejoined he, " and that you feel the obligation they've laid upon
you."
"To be sure I feel it; don't I fret over it every time I'm
alone? for I can't get it out of my head that maybe she'd
appear to me "
"Who?— Catty?"
"No, but her mother. Oh, it's nothing to laugh at, Joe,
There was Eliza Keane came back every Easter Monday, for
two-and-twenty years, to search for a gravy spoon. Well, if
it's laughing you are, I won't say any more ; but here's the car
now, and it's late enough we'll be on the road!"
" I'm not thinking of going, mother. I never meant to go,"
said Joe, resolutely.
" Never meant to go, after your father's note to you, Joe ? "
cried she, in half horror. " Surely it's all as one as ordering
you up there."
"I know all that," said he, calmly; "but I see no reason
YOUNG NELLIGAN AS INTERPRETED IN TWO WATS. 117
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 tei'ribly shocked and terrified ; you know
well enough that my father's four-year old mutton and his
crusty port will compensate the company for heavier inflictions
than my absence."
"They were always fond of you, Joe," said Mrs. Nelligan,
half rej^roach fully.
"Nothing of the kind, mother; they never cared for me, nor
was there any reason why they should. I'm sure I never cared
for them. We endured one anothei', that was all,"
" Oh, dear, but I'm glad your father is not listening to you,"
said she, with a stealthy glance around, as though not perfectly
assured of secrecy. " So then, I supjDose, there's nothing for it
but to go up m3'self, and make the best of it; and sure it's all
a lottei-y what temper he's in, and how he'll take it. I remember
when tliey put the new duty on what was it, Joe ? I think
it was hides "
" Not the least matter, mother ; you've only to say that Mr.
Martin has been kind enough to show me some attentions, and
that I am silly enough — if you like to say so — to prefer them
to the festive pleasures of Oughterard, In another week or so
I shall have to go back to College. Let me, at least, enjoy the
few days of my vacation in my own fashion."
Mrs. Nelligan shook her head mournfully over these signs of
rebellion, and muttering many a gloomy foreboding, she went
off to hev room, to make her preparations for the journej.
118 THE MAKTINS 0! CEO' MAETIS.
CHAPTER XII.
A TERY "cross examination."
The morning was bright and sunny, the air, sharp, crisp, and
bracing, as the heavy travelling-cannage, which conveyed Mr.
Martin and Lady Dorothea, rolled smoothly along the trimly-
kept approach to Cro' Martin, Many a beautiful glade — many
a lovely vista opened on them as they passed along deep-,
bosomed woods and gently-swelling slopes, dotted over with
cattle, stretched away on either side, while far in the distance
could be seen the battlemented towers of the princely residence.
The lover of nature might have felt intense pleasure at a
scene so abounding in objects of beauty. A painter would have
lingered with delight over effects of light and shade, glorious
displays of colour, and graceful groupings of rocks, and trees,
and gnarled stumps. A proud man might have exulted in the
selfish enjoyment of feeling that these were all his own, while
a benevolent one would have revelled in the thought of all the
channels through which such wealth might carry the blessings
of aid and charity.
Which of these feelings predominated now in the minds of
those who, snugly encased in furs, occupied the respective
corners of the ample coach? Shall we own it? — nob any of
them. A dreamy, unremarking indifference was the sentiment
of each ; and they sat silently, gazing on a prospect which
suggested nothing, nor awoke one passing emotion in their,
hearts. Had any one been there to express his admiration of
the landscape, praised the trees, the cattle, or the grassy-slopes,
jMartin might have heard him with pleasure, and listened even
with interest to his description. My Lady, too, might not un-
willingly have lent an ear to some flattery of the splendid
demesne of which she was mistress, and accepted, as half
homage, the eulogy of what was hers. None such was,
A VERY "cross EXAMINATION." 119
however, ttere; and so they journeyed along", as seemingly
unconscious as though the scene were wrapt in midnight
darkness,
Martin had known the spot, and every detail of it, from his
boyhood. The timber, indeed, had greatly grown — graceful
saplings had become stately trees, and feathery foliage deepened
into leafy shade ; but he himself had grown older too, and his
sense of enjoyment, dulled and deadened with years, saw
nothing in the scene to awaken pleasure. As for Lady
Dorothea, she had reasoned herself into the notion that the
walls of her own grounds were the boundaries of a prison,
and had long convinced herself that she was a suffering- martyr
to some mysterious sense of duty. From the drowsy langour
in which they reclined they were both aroused, as the pace of
the carriage gradually diminished from a smooth brisk trot to
an uneven jolting motion, the very reverse of agreeable.
"What have they done? Where are they going?" said
Lady Dorothea, peevishly.
And Martin called out from the window, in tones even less
gentle. " Oh ! it's the new approach ; the road is not quite
completed," said he, half sulkily, as he resumed his place.
" Another of Miss Martin's clever devices, which, I must say
I never concuia-ed in."
"Why, you always professed to hate the old road by the
stables."
" So I did ; but I never agreed to passing round the back of
the house, and thus destroying the privacy of the flower-
garden — the only spot I may dare to call my own. Oh, dear !
I shall be shaken to death. Have they broken the carriage?
I'm certain they've smashed the spring at my side ! "
Martin gave a cold, supercilious smile, the only reply to
these words.
"They've only broken a trace, I perceive," said he, casting a
hurried glance through the window, as the carriage came to a
dead stop.
" You are equanimity itself, sir, this morning," said her 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 hate that cant phrase. Can't
they employ themselves on their own farms? Haven't they
digging and draining, and whatever it is, to do of their own ?
120 THE MAHTraS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Must tboy of necessity depend on us for support, and require
that we should institute useless works to employ them?"
As if to ofier a living commentary on lier speech, a, number
of half-fed and less than half-clad men now drew near, and in
accents of a most servile entreaty, beg'ged to offer their services.
Some, indeed, had already busied themselves to repair the
broken harness, and others were levelling the road, carrying
stones to fill up holes, and in every possible manner endeavour-
ing to render assistance, but all were vociferous in asserting
that the delay would not be above a minute or two — that the
road was an elegant one, or would be soon — and that it was a
"raal blessing" to see her ladyship and the master looking so
well. In fact, tliey were thankful and hopeful together ; and,
notwithstanding the evidences of the deepest destitution in
their appearance, they wore an air of easy, jaunty politeness,
such as many a professional diner-out might have envied. Lady
Dorothea was in no mood to appreciate such traits; indeed, if
the truth must be told, they rather ruffled than soothed her.
Martin saw nothing in them : he was too much accustomed to
the people to be struck with any of their peculiarities, and so
he lay back in silent apathy, and took no notice of them.
With all their alacrity and all their good-will — and there
was no lack of either — there was yet such a total absence of all
system and order, that their efforts were utterly useless. Some
tugged away manfully to raise stones too heavy to lift ; others
came rudely in contact with fellows heavily laden, and upset
them. The sturdy arms that spoked the hind wheels were
resolutely 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. Nor was Lady Dorothea herself an inactive
spectator; for, with her head from the carriage-window, she
directed a hundred impossible measures, and sat down at last,
overcome with rage and mortification at their blunders.
The tumult was now at the highest, and the horses, terrified
by the noise around them, had commenced plunging and rearing
fearfully, when Mary Martin came galloping up to iihe spot at
full speed.
" Let go that bridle, Hogan," cried she, aloud ; '' you are
driving that horse mad. Loose the leaders' traces — unbuckle
the reins, Patscy — the wheelers will stand quietly. There,
lead them away. Speak to that mare, she's trembling with
tear. I tpld you not to come by this road, Barney ; and it waa
122 THE JIAKTIXS OF CRO' MAK'IW.
exceeded yours. I am quite aware of all my imperfections,
and can at least fancy everything yovi could say of me and my
temper. — What did you say, Collins ?" said she, addressing the
obsequious-looking servant, who, with an air of gloomy joy,
very respectful — but meant to mean more — had whispered
something in her ear.
*' A young lady, did you say, Collins ? "
" Yes, my lady."
" Then you were very wrong, Collins. You meant to say a
young person."
" Yes, my lady — a young person, like a lady."
" Not in the least, except to such appreciation as yours.
Where is she ? "
*' In your ladyship's library."
" Did she come alone ? "
" No, my lady. Mr. Henderson drove her over in his car,
and said he'd pass this way again in the evening."
And now her ladyship swept proudly by, scarcely noticing
the bowing servants who had formed into a line along the hall,
and who endeavoured to throw into their sorrowful faces a3
much of joy as might 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."
" Yes, my lady ; it shall be done to-morrow."
" No, sir ; to-day."
*' Yes, my lady ; this afternoon."
"I don't remember if the windows are double along here.**
"Yes, my lady, they are all double towards the north."
" Then they fit badly, for I feel the draft acutely here. It's
like the keen air of a mountain ;" and Collins gave a slight
Bympathetic shudder, and really looked cold. A somewhat
haughty glance from her ladyship, however, as quickly re-
proved him, for Collins ought to have known that it was not
by such as himself changes of temperature could be appre-
ciable. And now she passed on and entered that part of the
mansion peculiarly her own, and where, it must be owned,
A VERY "cross EXAMINATION" 123
her spirit of fault-finding would have been at a loss what to
condemn.
Lady Dorothea's library oceupied an angle of the building,
and from this circumstance, included within its precincts an
octagonal tow<!r, the view from which comprised every varied
character of landscape. This favoured spot was fitted up in
the most luxurious taste — with rarest gems of art, and cabinet
pictures of almost fabulous value — to supply which foreign
dealers and connoisseurs had been for years back in corre-
SDondence 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 her-
self. Now, it was some choice mosaic, of which but one other
specimen existed, and that in the Pope's private collection at
the Quirinal. Such was her ardour in this pursuit of ex-
cellence, that more than once had every object of this precious
chamber been changed, to give place to something more costly,
more precious, and rarer. For about two years back, however,
the resources of the old world seemed to offer nothing worthy
of attention, and the vases, the " statuettes," the bronzes, the
pictures, and medallions had held their ground undisturbed.
Such was the sanctity of this spot, that, in showing the house
to strangers, it was never opened, nor, without a special order
from Lady Dorothea — a favour somewhat more difficult to
obtain than a firman from the Sultan — could any one be
admitted within its walls. The trusty servant in whose charge
it was, was actually invested with a species of sacred character
in the household, as one whose feet had passed the threshold of
the tabernacle. Our reader may then picture to himself some-
thing 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," i-eplied the
124 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
other, in a low, soft voice ; " mistaking tlie door by which I had
entered a room, I wandered on through one after another until
I found myself here. I beg your ladyship to believe that
nothing was further from my thoughts than to obtrude upon
your privacy."
"Your name?" began her ladyship; and then, as suddenly
correcting herself, she said, " You are Miss Henderson, I
suppose ? "
" Yes, my lady," she replied, with a slight bend of the head.
" I sent for you," said Lady Dorothea, in a half careless tone,
while she turned over some books on the table, as if in search
of something — " I sent for you, partly at the request of your
mother "
" My stepmother, my lady," interposed the girl, calmly.
Lady Dorothea stared at her for a second or two, as though
to say, how had she dared to correct her; but either that the
reproof had not met its full success, or that she did not care to
pursue it, she added: "At the request of your friends, and
partly out of curiosity." And here Lady Dorothea raised her
glass to her eye, and quietly surveyed her; an examination
which, it must be owned, none could have borne with more
unshaken fortitude, not the slightest tremor of a limb, not the
faintest change of colour, betokening that the ordeal was a
painful one.
"I do see that you have been educated in France," said her
ladyship, with a smile of most supercilious import, while a
curtsey from the young girl admitted the fact.
"Were you brought up in Paris?" asked she, after a pause.
" For four years, my lady."
"And the remainder of the time, where was it passed?"
" We travelled a great deal, my lady, in Germany and Italy."
"'We' — who were the 'we' you speak of? Please to bear
in mind that I know Hothing 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 govei*ness or a teacher;" and the lasfc
words were drawled out languidly, as though they were sugges-
tive of all that was wearisome and a bore. " So you must be
good enough to explain who '^^06' were."
"The Duchesse de Lnygnes and her family, my lady."
"You travelled with them — and in what capacity, pray?"
A fLKl '"CSOSS EXAMINATION." 125
"I was called companion to the Princesse de Courcelles, the
eldest daughter of the Duchess, my lady."
" Companion ! — why, you must have been a mere child at the
time?"
"A mere child, m)' lady; but they took me from the Pension-
nat, to speak English with the young Princess."
"And then they took the charge of 3'our education, I con-
clude ? "
" Yes, my lady."
"And to what extent — or rather, in what direction; I mean,
what object had they in view in choosing your studies ?"
" They gave me the same Masters as to the young Princess,
my lady ; and I was instructed in all respects as she was."
"And treated like her also, I conclude ?" said Lady Dorothea,
with a sneering smile.
" Madame la Duchesse was ever most kind to me," said the
girl, half proudly.
" Kind — yes, of course — kind, if you conducted yourself
properly and to her satisfaction. A person of her condition
would be kind ; but I trust this did not proceed so far as to
spoil you? I hope it never made you forget your station?"
" I trust it did not, my lady."
"With what part of the establishment did you live? Where
did you dine ? "
" With the Princess, my lady ; except on fete days, when we
were invited to the table of the Duchess."
" I never heard of anything more absurd — outrageously
absurd. Why, are you aware, young woman, that these same
friends of yours have done you irreparable mischief? They
have, so to say, ruined your entire future, for hoAv can I, and
others in my station, avail myself of your services, with such
habits and expectations as these ? "
" Certainly not expectations, my lady. I never did or can
expect such condescension from another."
"No matter; your head is filled with ideas unbefitting your
condition, usages, habits, associations, all foreign to a menial
station. You have been admitted to privileges, the want of
Avhich would be felt as hardships. In fact, as I said before,
they have done you irreparable injury. You must feel it your-
self."
A very faint smile, half in depi'ecation of the appeal, was
the only reply of the young girl.
" You ai'c certain to feel it later on iu life, if you are not
126 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
sensible of it at present, that I can voucli for, young woman,**
said Lady Dorothea, with all the firmness with which she could
utter an unpleasant speech. "Nothing but unhappiness ever
resulted from such ill-judged indulgence. Indeed, if your
mother had mentioned the circumstance, I scarcely think I
should have sent for you" — she paused to see if any strong
signs of contrite sorrow displayed themselves in the young
girl's features ; none such were there, and Lady Dorothea more
sternly added — " I may safely say, I never should have asked
to see you."
When a speech meant to be severe has failed to inflict the
pain it was intended to produce, it invariably recoils with
redoubled power upon him who uttered it; and so Lady
Dorothea now felt all the pang of her own ungenerous senti-
ment. With an effort to shake off this unpleasant sensation,
she resumed :
" I might go farther, and observe, that unless you yourself
became thoroughly penetrated with the fact, you must always
prove very unsuitable to the station you are destined to occupy
in life. Do you understand me ? "
" I believe I do, my lady," was the calm reply.
"And also," resumed she, still more dicta torially — "and also,
that acquiring this knowledge by yourself will be less painful
to your feelings than if impressed upon you by others. Do you
fully apprehend me ? "
" I think so, my lady."
Now, although the tone and manner of the young girl were
unexceptionable in all that regards deference and respect. Lady
Dorothea was not a little provoked at her unbroken composure.
There was no confusion, not even a semblance of constraint
about her. She replied to even sarcastic questions without the
faintest shadow of irritation, and exhibited throughout the most
perfect quietude and good breeding. Had the "young person"
been overwhelmed with shame, or betrayed into any access of
temper, her ladyship's manner would have presented a pattern
of haughty dignity and gracefulness, and her rebukes would
have been delivered in a tone of queen-like superiority ; but
Miss Henderson afforded no opportunity foi' these great qualities.
She was deference itself: but deference so self-possessed, so
assured of its own safeguard, as to be positively provoking.
" Under all these circumstances, therefore," resumed Lady
Dorothea, as if having revolved mighty thoughts within he*
mind, " it appears to me you would not suit me."
A VERY "cross EXAMINATION." 127
But even this speech failed to call up one trait of dissappoint-
meut, 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 will do," said Lady Dorothea, angrily ; for any
attempt to provoke seemed an utter failure. I think I have
nothing more to say. When I shall see your mother I can
explain more fully to her. Good morning."
" I wish your ladyship good morning," said the girl, with a
deep obeisance, and in a voice of perfect deference, while she
retired towards the door. Before she had reached it, however,
Lady Dorothea again addressed her :
" You forgot, I think, to tell me, why you left the Duchesse
de Luygnes ? "
" I left on the marriage of the Princess, my lady."
" Oh, I remember ; she married a Russian, I think."
" No, my lady ; she married the Due de Mirecourt, French
Ambassador at St. Petersburg."
"Ah, to be sure. I knew there was something Russian
about it. And so they sent you away then ? "
" The duchess most kindly invited me to accompany her, my
lady, but my father desired I should return to Ireland."
" And very properly," said Lady Dorothea ; " he took a most
just view of the case; your position would only have exposed
you to great perils. I'm sure you are not of my opinion, for,
distrust of yourself does not appear one of your failings." — It
is possible that this ungenerous remark was evoked by a very
slight curl of the young girl's lip, and which, faint as it was,
did not escape her ladyship's keen glances. — " Good morning."
Again had Miss Henderson gained the door; her hand was
already on the lock, when her ladyship called out : " In the
event of anything occurring to me likely to suit you, I ought to
know what you can teach ; and mind, don't bore me with a
mere catalogue of hard names, but say what you really know."
" Some modern languages, my lady, with music."
"No Greek or Latin?" said Lady Dorothea, half snecringly.
" Latin, perhaps ; but though I cau read some Greek, I could
not venture to teach it."
" Xor Heljrcw P "
" No, my lady."
128 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTTN.
" And the modern tongues — which of them do you profess to
know?"
"French, Italian, Spanish, and German."
" And don't you draAv ? — they showed me what they called
yours."
"Yes, my lady, but I cannot teach drawing."
" And of course you are thoroughly versed in history.
Have you studied any scientific subjects? — mathematics, for
instance."
" Only a few of the French initial books, my lady."
"Why, you are quite an Admirable Crichton for acquirement.
I feel really abashed to find myself in such company." But
even this coarse speech failed to irritate, and Lady Dorothea
walked angrily towards the window and looked out.
It so chanced that, through an opening of the wood, she
caught sight of a large assemblage of workpeople, who,
headed by Miss Martin on horseback, were on their way to the
quarries ; and as she looked, a sudden thought flashed across
her: "Why not I'etain the 'young person' as a companion for
her niece? How admirably would all this gii-l's knowledge
contrast with Mary's ignorance. What an unceasing source of
disparagement would their contact aSbrd at the very moment
that the arrangement might seem dictated by the very best and
highest of motives."
It may doubtless appear to many, that the individual who
could reason thus, must be animated by a most corrupt and
depraved nature, but unhappily the spiteful element in the
human heart is one which never measures its modes of attack,
but suffers itself to be led on, from acts of mere petty malice,
to actions of downright baseness and badness. Lady Dorothea
was not devoid of good traits, but once involved in a pursuit,
she totally forgot the object which originally suggested it, but
engaged all her zeal and all her ardour for success. She
would have been shocked at the bare possibility of actually
injuring her niece; she would have resented with indignation
the mere mention of such ; but yet she would have eagerly
grasped at whatever afforded a chance of dominating over her.
Mary's influence in the household — her rule over the peasantry
of the estate — was a perpetual source of annoyance to her
ladyship, and yet she never knew how to thwart it, till now
that chance seemed to offer this means,
" You need not go back just yet : I'll speak to Mr. Martin
about you," said she, turning towards Miss Henderson; and,
A VERY "" CROSS EXAMINATION." 129
with a respectful curtsey, the girl -withdrew, leaving her lady-
ship to her own somewhat complicated reflections.
In less than half an hour after Lady Dorothea proceeded to
Mr, Martin's study, where a cabinet council was held, the 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 displayed, that Mademoiselle Hortense, her maid,
remarked to herself, " Somebody or other was sure to pass a
viaiivais quart cVheure when Miladi goes to her room with an air
of such triumphant meaning as that,"
19
130 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MAKTIS.
CHAPTER Xin.
*'a housekeeper's room.**
Cro' Martin was replete with every comfort and luxury. All
its arrangements betokened wealth ; not a single appliance of
ease or enjoyment but was to be found within its well-ordered
walls ; and yet there was one want which seemed to mar all,
and infuse a sense of almost dreary coldness over everything,
and this was — the absence of a numerous family — the assem-
blage of various ages, which gives to a home its peculiar
interest, embodying the hopes and fears, and passions and
motives of manhood, in every stage of existence, making up
that little world within doors which 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 youtli, and manhood,
and deep age, blending hopes of the future with memories of
the past, and making of every heart a portion of one human
biography, in which many are sharers. To the strangei^ who
came to see the house and its gorgeous decorations, all seemed
suggestive of habitable enjoyment. The vast drawing-rooms
appeai'ed as if only waiting for a splendid company ; the dark-
wainscoted dining-room, with its noble fireplace of gigantic
dimensions, looked the very scene where hospitable conviviality
might be enacted ; the library, calm, quiet, and secluded,
seemed a spot wherein a student might have passed a 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 eiijoy all this ? What words of
"a housekeeper's room." 131
glad welcome echo thvougli this vaulted hall — what happy
daughter sings through these gilded chambers — where is the
social pleasantry that circles the blaziug fire of the ample
hearth ? Alas ! all was sombre, splendid, and dreary. No, we
are wrong ! — not all ! There was one corner of this great
house where cheerfulness was the very type of comfort. It
was a small, and not lofty room, whose two windows projected
beyond the walls, giving a wide view over the swelling land-
scape for miles of space. Here the furniture was of the most
ordinary kind, but scrupulously neat and well kept. The chairs
— there were but four of them — all with arms and deep
cushions; the walnut table a perfect mirror of polish ; the cloth
curtains, that closed the windows and concealed the door, massive
and heavy- folded, — all breathed of snugness; while the screen
that surrounded the fire had other perfections than those of
comfortable seclusion, containing a most strange collection of
the caricatures of the time, and the period before the Union.
It is but necessary to add that this was Mrs. Broou's apart-
ment — 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. Far from
devoid of social qualities, or a liking for companionship, she
still lived almost entirely to herself, the other servants being
chiefly English, whose habits and ways were all strange to her,
and all whose associations were widely different from her own.
Catty Broon had thus obtained a reputation for unsociability
which she by no means deserved, but to which, it must be
owned, she was totally indifferent. In fact, if tliey deemed licr
morose and disagreeable ; she, in turn, held them still more
cheaply, calling them a set of lazy devils that " were only in
each other's way," and " half of them not worth their salt."
Catty had also survived her generation; all her friends of
former years had either died or emigrated, and except two or
three of the farm-servants, none of the "ould stock," as she
called them, were in existence. This brief explanation will
show that Catty's comparative isolation was not entirely a
matter of choice. If a sense of loneliness did now and then
cross her mind, she never suffered it to dwell there, but chased
jO— =
132 THE MARXmS OF CRO' MARTIN.
away the unpleasant thought by some active duty ; or if the
season of that were over, by the amusing" columns of the
Intelligence — a journal which realised to Mrs. Broon's con-
ceptions the very highest order of literary merit.
Catty did not take much interest in politics ; she had a vague
dreamy kind of notion that the game of party was a kind of
disreputable gambling, and Parliament itself little better than
a "Hell," frequented by very indifferent company. Indeed, she
often said it would be "well for us if there was no politics, and
maybe then, there would be no taxes either." The news she
liked was the price of farming stock at fairs and markets.
What Mr. Hynes got for his " top lot " of hoggets, and what
Tom Healey paid for the " finest heifers ever seen on the fair-
green." These, and the accidents — a deeply interesting column
— were her peculiar tastes, and her memory was stored with
every casualty, by sea, fire, and violence, that had graced the
Intelligence for forty years back ; in truth they formed the
stations of her chronology, and she would refer to events as
having occurred the same year that Joe Ryan was hanged, or
" the very Christmas that Hogan fired at Captain Crossley."
An inundation of great extent also figured in these memorabilia,
and was constantly referred to, by her saying, " This or that
happened the year after the Flood," suggesting a rather
stai'tling impression as to her longevity.
On the evening we now refer to, the newspaper was more
than commonly adorned with these incidents. Public news
having failed, private calamities were invoked to supply the
place. Catty was, therefore, fortunate. There was something,
too, not altogether unpleasant in the whistling storm that raged
without, and the heavy plashing of the rain as it beat upon the
window-panes. Without imputing to her, as would be most
unjust, the slightest touch of ill-nature, she felt a heightened
sense of her own snugness as she drew closer to the bright
hearth, while she read of "a dreadful gale in the Bay of
Biscay."
It was just in the most exciting portion of the description
that her door was rudely opened, and the heavy curtain dashed
aside with a daring hand ; and Catty, startled by the sudden
interruption, called angrily out :
" Wlio'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 ? "
**A housekeeper's room." 133
"Oh, Miss Mary, is it you? And, blessed Virgin, what a
state ye're in," cried she, as she gazed at the young girl, who,
throwing away her riding hat, wrung out the rain from her
long and silky haii', while she laughed merrily at old Catty's
dismayed countenance.
"Why, where in the world were you — what happened yon,
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 tarn homeward, but one of Kit Sullivan's children — my
little godchild, you know — detained me to hear him recite some
verses he had learned for my birthday ; and, what with one
thing and another, it was pitch dark when I reached the ' New
Cut,' and then, to my annoyance, I found the bridge had just
been carried away — there. Catty, now for a pair of your own
comfortable slippers — and, as I was saying to you, there was no
bridge!"
" The bridge gone ! " exclaimed Catty, in horror.
"All Tom Healey's fault. I told him that the arch had not
span enough, and that the buttresses would never stand the first
heavy fall of rain from the mountains, and there's not a vestige
of them now ! "
" And what did you do ? "
"I rode for the Low Meadows, Catty, with all speed. I
knew that the river, not being confined there between narrow
banks, and spreading over a wide surface, couldn't be very deep.
Nor was it. It never touched the girths but once, when we got
into a hole! But she is such a rare good beast, that little
Sorrel ; she dashed through everything, and I don't think I
took forty minutes from Kane's Mill to this door, though I
never saw a spot of the road all the while, except when the
lightning showed it. There now, like a good old dear, don't
wring your hands and say, ' Blessed hour ! ' but just put some
more tea in the teapot, and fetch me your brown loaf ! "
" But surely you'll die of cold ! — you'll be in a fever ! "
" Nonsense, Catty ; I have been out in rain before this. I'm
more provoked about that bridge than all else. My excellent
aunt will have such a laugh at my engineering skill, when she
hears of it. Can't be helped, however. And so there's a
dinner-party up stairs, I hear. Fanny told me there were
three strangers."
" So I hear. There's a lawyer from Dublin ; and a lady from
134 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
I don't know where; and young Nelligan, old Dan's son. I'm
sure I never thought I'd see the day he'd be eating his dinner
at Cro' Martin."
"And why not, Catty? What is there in his manners and
conduct that should not make him good company for any one
here?"
" 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 smig shop. Ayeh ! he's an old Niggar, the same Dan. I
knoAV him well."
" But that is no reason why you should disparage his son,
Catty, who is a young gentleman of the highest ability and
great promise. I never heard you speak so ungenerously
before."
" Well, well, darling, don't look angry with your ould Catty,
anyway. It isn't for the like of Dan Nelligan, or his son either,
you'd be cross with me ! "
"jSTever, 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
bedroom was wanting to-night, and he wished to tor-ment me
into asking who for? — but I wouldn't, just for that same; and
BO I gave him the keys without a word."
" I wonder if this note, that I found on my dressing-table,
will explain anything," said Mary, as she proceeded to bi'eak
the seal. "Of all the absurd ways of my lady aunt, she has
not a more ridiculous one than this trick of writing little notes,
instead of speaking*. She sees me every day, and might surely
say whatever she wanted to say, without embalming it in a
despatch. This, I perceive, is number four hundred and
seventy-six, and I presume she's correct in the score. Only
think, Catty — four hundred little epistles like this ! "
And with these woi'ds 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.
"a housekeeper's room." 135
"You'd never guess what tidings this brings me, Catty," said
she, laying down the paper, and looking with an expression
half sad, half comical.
" Maybe I might then/' said Catty, shaking her head know-
ingly.
" Come, out with your guess, then, old lady, and I promise to
venerate your wisdom ever after if you be right — that is, if
nobody has already given you a hint on the subject."
" Not one in the world," said Catty, solemnly ; " I pledge you
my word and faith I never heard a syllable about it."
"About it! about what?"
"About what's in the letter there," said Catty, stoutly.
"You are tlierefore 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 g'ood-will, that poor Catty
felt perfectly ashamed of herself
"My dear Catty," said she, at length, "you must have been
reading Fairy Tales this morning ; nothing short of such bright
literature could have filled your mind with these imaginings.
The object of the note is, I assure you, of a quite different kind;"
and here she ran her eye once more over the epistle. " Yes,"
continued she, " it is written in my dear aunt's own peculiar
style, and begins with a ' declaratory clause,' as I think Mi\
Scanlau would call it, expressive of my lamentably neglected
education, and then proceeds to the apjDropriate remedy, by
telling me that I am to have a Governess ! "
" A what ! " cried Catty, in angry amazement.
" A Governess, Catty — not a governor, as you suspected."
" Ayeh, ayeh!" cried the old woman, ringing her hands;
"what's this for? Don't you know how to govern yourself by
this time? And what can they t^oach you that you don't
understand already ? "
"Ah, my dear Catty," said the young girl, sadly, "it is a sad
subject you would open there, — one that I have wept over many
a dreary hour ! No one knows — no one even could guess — how
deeply I have deplored my illiterate condition. Nor was it,"
added she, ardently, " till I had fashioned out a kind of existence
of my own — active, useful, and energetic — that I could bury
the thought of my utter want of education. Not even you,
136 THE MARTINS OP CEO* MARTIN.
Catty, could fathom all the tears this theme has cost me, nor
with what a sinking of the heart I have thought over my
actual unfitness for my station."
" Arrah, don't provoke me ! don't drive me mad ! " cried the
old woman, in real anger. " There never was one yefc as fit for
the highest place as yourself; and it isn't me alone that says it,
but hundreds of "
*' Hundreds of dear, kind, loving hearts," broke in Mary,
" that would measure my poor capacity by my will to serve
them. But, no matter, Catty ; I'll not try to undeceive them.
They shall think of me with every help their own affection
may lend them, and I will not love them less for the over-
estimate."
As she spoke these words, she buried her face between her
hands ; but the quick heaving of her chest showed how deep
was her emotion. The old woman respected her sorrow too
deeply to interrupt her, and for several minutes not a word was
spoken on either side. At last, 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 sj^ring. We Irish cherish the love of
motives as well as actions ; and, above all, we cherish the links
that bind the lowliest iu the land with the highest, and make
both better by the union.*'
She poured out these words with rapid impetuosity, rather
talking to herself than addressing her companion : then, sud-
denly changing her tone, she added :
" Besides, Catty, ihey arc used to mc, and I to tliem. A new
face and a new voice would not bring the same comfort to
them."
"a housekeeper's room.** 137
" Never, never," muttered the old woman to herself
"And I'll not desert them."
" That you won't, darlint^," said the old woman, kissing her
hand passionately, while tears swam in her eyes, and trickled
down her cheeks.
" There is but one thought. Catty, that makes me at all faint-
hearted about this, and whenever it crosses me I do feel very
low and depressed." She paused, and then murmured the
words, "My father!"
" Your father, my darling ! What about liim ?"
"It is thinking, Catty, of his return; an event that ought td
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
deficiences, and how difierent he will find his daughter from
what he had expected her."
" May the blessed Saints grant me patience ! " cried Catty,
breaking in. " Isn't it too bad to hear you talking this way ?
Sure, don't I know Master Bariy well? Didn't I nurse him;
and wasn't I all as one as his own mother to him ? aud 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 difierent indeed he might
have imagined his daughter. I'm sure nobody can be more
ignorant than I am, of what a person in my station ought to
know. I cannot hide this from myself in my sad moments. I
do not try to do so, but I have always relied upon the consolation
that, to an existence such as mine is like to be, these deficiencies
do not bring the same sense of shame, the same joainful con-
sciousness of inferiority, as if I were to mingle with the world
of my equals. But if he were to come back — he, who has seen
society in every shape and fashion — and find me the pooi', un-
lettered, unread, untaught thing I am, unable to follow his very
descriptions of far-away lands without confusion and mistake;
unable to benefit by his refiections from very want of previous
knowledge — oh. Catty, dearest, what a misei'able thing is self-
love after all, when it should thus thrust itself into the fore-
ground, where very different afiections alone should Lave the
place.'*
" He'd love you like bis own heart," said Catty. " Nobody
knows him like me ; and if there was ever one made for him to
dote on, it's your own self."
138 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
. " Do you indeed think so ? " cried Mary, eagerly.
"Do I know it — could I swear it?" said Catty. " He wag
never much s?iven to study himself, except ifc was books of
travel like ' Robinson Crusoe,' and the like ; and then, after
reading one of them books he'd be off for days together, and
we'd be looking for him over the whole country, and maybe
find him in the middle of Kyle's Wood up a tree; or once,
indeed, it was in the island of LettermuUen we got him. He
built a mud-house, and was living there with a goat and two
rabbits that he reared himself, and if he wasn't miserable when
they brought him away home ! I remember his words well —
' Maybe,' says he, ' the time will come that I'll go where you
can't come after me ;' and ye see that's what he's done, for
nobody knows where he wasn't wandering these last eight or
nine years."
When Catty got upon this theme she could not be brought to
quit it — nor, indeed, did Mary try — for though she had heard
these stories of her father's boyish days over and over again,
she never wearied of them; they had all the fascination of
romance for her, with the stronger interest that grew out of
her love for one who, she was told, had so loved herself. Besides
this, she felt in her own heart the same promptings to a life of
action and adventure. All the incidents and accidents of an
eventful existence were the very things to delight her, and one
of her happiest day-dreams was to fancy herself her father's
companion in his wanderings by flood and field.
And thus they sat till a late hour of the night talking and
listening, old Catty answering each inquiry of the young girl
by some anecdote or trait of him she still persisted in calling
" Master Barry," till, in the ardour of listening, Mary herself
caught up the phrase, and so designated her own father.
"How nnlike my uncle in everything!" exclaimed Mar}^ 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 i-eason was worth anything,
your uncle ought to love him more than one man ever did
another." Old Catty uttered these words with a slow and
almost muttering accent ; they seemed as if the expression of
a thought delivered involuntarily — almost unconsciously.
Mary was attracted by the unwonted solemnity of her accent,
but still more by an expression of intense meaning which
gathered over the old woman's brows and forehead. "Ay, ay,"
"a housekeeper's room." 139
muttered slie still to herself, "there's few brothers would do it.
Maybe there's uot another living but himself would have done
it."
"And what was it, Catty?" asked Mary, boldly.
"Eh! — what was I saying, darling?" said Catty, rousing*
herself to full consciousness.
" You were telling of my father, and some great proof of
affection he gave my uncle."
" To be sure he did," said the old woman, hastily. " They
wei-e 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, draw-
ing 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 i\Iai'y, half proudly.
"A secret, indeed," said Catty, shaking her head mournfully.
" Then you need only to have said so, and I'd not have im-
portuned you to tell it; for, to say truth. Catty, I never knew
you had any secrets from me."
" Nor have I another, except this, darling," said Catty ; and
she buried her face within her hands. And now both sat in
silence for some minutes — a most painful silence to each. At
last Mary arose, and, although evidently trying to overcome it,
a feeling of constraint was marked in her features.
" You'd never guess how late it is. Catty," said she, trying to
change the current of her thoughts. "You'd not believe it is
past three o'clock ; how pleasantly we must have talked, to
forget time in this way."
But the old woman made no reply, and it was clear that she
had never heard the words, so deeply was she sunk in her own
reflections.
"This poor hat of mine will scarcely do another day's service,"
said Maiy, as she looked at it half laughingly. "Nor is my
habit the fresher of its bath in the ' Red River ;' and the worst
of it is, Catty, I have overdrawn my quarter's allowance, and
must live on, in rags, till Easter. I see, old lady, you have no
sympathies to waste on me and my calamities this evening,"
added she, gaily, " and so I'll just go to bed and, if I can, dream
pleasantly."
140 tHE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
"Rags, indeed," said Catty. "It's well it becomes you to
wear rags ! " aud her eyes sparkled with indignant passion.
"Faith, if it comes to that" — here she suddenly paused, and a
pale hne spread over her features like a qualm of faintish sick-
ness— "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.'
"N^ow, 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 gallei'y to her own chamber.
If Mary Martin's character had any one quality pre-eminently
remarkable, it was the absence of everything like distrust and
suspicion. Frankness and candour itself in all her dealings,
she never condescended to impute secret motives to another;
and the very thought of anything like mj'stery was absolutely
repugnant to her natui'e. 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 any-
thing in my position or circumstances here that I am not aware
of ? Is there a mystery about me in any way ? " The very
imagination of such a thing was agony. In vain she tried to
chase away the unwelcome thought, by singing as she went, by
thinking over plans for the morrow, by noting down, as she did
each night, some stray records of the past day; still Catty's
agitated face and strange emotion rose before her, and would
not suffer her to be at rest.
To a day of great excitement and ftitigue now succeeded a
sleepless, feverish night, and morning broke on her uurefreshed,
and even ill.
A FINE OLD laiSU BARBISTEB. 141
CHAPTER XIY.
A FDfE OLD IRISH BARRISTER.
Can any one tell us what has become of that high con-
versational power for which Ireland, but more especially Dublin,
was once celebrated ? Have the brilliant talkers of other days
left no successors ? Has that race of delightful convivialists
gone and disappeared for ever? Or are we only enduring an
inteiTegnum of dulness, the fit repose, i^erhaps, 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 imjDortance
to society, while it secured to social intercourse the men who
made that Senate illustrious. The Bar, too, of former days
was essentially the cai-eer of the highest class, of those who
had the ambition of political success, without the necessity oi
toil.'ng for it through the laborious paths of the law, and thua
the wit, the brilliancy, and the readiness which gives con-
versatit n its charm, obtained the high culture which comes of
a learne \ profession, and the social intercourse with men of
refined ui derstanding.
With the Union this spirit died out. Some of the brightest
and gayest retired from the world, sad, dispirited, and de-
pressed ; some felt that a new and very difierent career was to
open before hem, and addressed themselves to the task of con-
forming to lew habits and acquiring new influences; and
others, again, sought in the richer and greater country the
rewards which they once were satisfied to reap in their own.
With the Union, society, in Dublin — using the word in its really
comprehensive sense — ceased to exist. The great interests of
a nation departed, men sank to the level of the small topics
that engaged them, and gradually the smallest and narrowest
142 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' JIARTIN.
views of mere local matters usui'ped the place of great events
and liberal speculations. Towards the end of the first quarter
of the present century, a few of those who had once made
companionship with Curran, and Grattan, and Lysaght, and
Parsons, were still in good health and vigour. A fine, high-
hearted, manly class they were, full of that peculiar generosity
of character which has ever marked the true Irish gentleman,
and with a readiness in humour and a genial flow of pleasantry
which rendered their society delightful.
Of this school — and probably the last, for he was then the
Father of the Bar — was Valentine Repton, a man whose
abilities might have won for him the very highest distinctions,
but who, partly through indolence, and partly through a sturdy
desire to be independent of all party, had all his life rejected
every offer of advancement, and had seen his juniors pass ou 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 demo-
cratic opinions, for which he more than once had incurred the
deep displeasure of the authorities of the University. The
principles of the French Revolution had, howevei', been
gradually toned down in him by time, and probably by a very
ai'istocratic 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, noi', except by a sly jest or an ejiiii-ram
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 clear,
and his whole air and bearing that of one many years j^ounger.
He had been a "Beau" in his youth, and there was in the
accurately-powdered haii% 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 a.cquaintance with Dublin had
familiarised him with the tone and temper of every class of its
citizens, and had taught liiui 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 wo; ^ed discretion
iu the use of this subtle power, and somewl;:it p., amed upon
A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTEB. 143
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 wouderfnlly 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 recuri'ing to incidents or events in which he him-
self 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 olF in Lady Somebody's drawing-room — were bright
spots he could not refrain from adverting to ; but, generally
speaking, he had skill enough to introduce these without any
seeming effort, or any straining, and thus, strangers, at least,
were in wonderment at his endless stores of anecdote and illus-
tration. No man better than he knew how to throw a great
name into the course of a conversation, and make an audience
for himself, by saying, " I remember one day at the Priory with
Curran " or, " We were dining with poor Grattan at
Tinnehinch, when " " As Flood once remarked to me "
and so on.
The flattery of being addressed by one who had stood in svah
intimate relation to those illustrious men never failed of success.
The most thoughtless and giddy hearers were at once arrested
by such an opening, and Reptou 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 humoui- — of humour in its real
sense — meaning thereby the faculty of appreciating, and even
cultivating, the individual peculiarities of those around him,
and deriving from their display a high order of pleasure.
From these scattered traits let my reader conjure up Valen-
tine Repton before him, and imagine the bustling, active, and
bi'isk-lookiug old gentleman, whose fidgetiness nearly drove
Martin mad, as they held converse together in the library after
breakfast. Now seated, now, rising to pace the room, or draw-
ing nigh the window to curse the peltering rain without,
Repton seemed the incarnation of uneasiness.
"Very splendid — very grand — very sumptuous — no doubt,"
said he, ranging his eyes over the gorgeous decorations of the
spacious apartment, " but would kill me in a month ; what am
I saying? — in a week!"
" What would kill you, Repton?" said Martin, languidly.
144 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" This life of yours, Martin — this sombre quiet — this nn-
broken stillness — this grave-like monotony. Why, man, where's
your neighbourhood — where ai*e your gentry friends ? "
" Cosby Blake, of Swainestown, is abroad," said Martin, witli
an indolent drawl. " Randal Burke seldom comes down hero
now. Rickman, I believe, is in the Fleet. They were the
nearest to us!"
" What a country ! and you are spending What did you
tell me last night — was it upwards of ten thousand a year,
here?"
" What with planting, draining, bridging, reclaiming waste
lands, and other improvements, the wages of last year alone
exceeded seven thousand ! "
" By Jove ! its nigh incredible," said the lawyer, energetically.
" My dear Martin, can't you perceive that all this is sheer waste
— so much good money actually thrown into Loiigh Corrib ?
Tell me, frankly, how long have you been pursuing this system
of improvement?"
" About three years ; under Mary's management."
"And the results — what of them?"
" It is too early to speak of that ; there's Kyle's Wood, for
instance — we have enclosed that at considerable cost. Of
course we can't expect that the mere thinnings can repay us,
the first year or two."
" And your reclaimed land — how has it prospered ? "
"Not over well. They pushed draining so far, that they've
left a large tract perfectly barren and unproductive."
" And the 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 impossibility ! They both know each other too well. Do
you understand me ? They ai'e too ready to make allowances
for short-comings that have their source in some national pre-
judice. Whereas your Saxon or your Scotchman would scout
such a plea at once. Ireland wants an alternative, Martin — an
alternative; and, amidst our other anomalies, not the least
singular is the fact, that the Englishman, who knows nothing
A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 145
abont ns, nor ever will know anything-, is precisely the man to
better our condition."
" These are strange opinions to hear from your lips, Repton.
I never heard any man so sarcastic as yourself on English
ignorance regarding Ii-eland."
" And you may hear me again on the same theme whenever
you vouchsafe me an audience," said the lawyer, sharply. " Ifc
was but the other day I gave our newly-arrived secretary, Mr.
Muspratt, a gentle intimation of my sentiments on that score.
We were dining at the Lodge. I sat next his Excellency, who,
in the course of dinner, directed my attention to a very graphic
picture the secretary was drawing of the misery he had wit-
nessed that very day, coming up from Carlow. He did the
thing" well, I must own. He gave the famished looks, the rags,
the wretchedness, all their due ; and he mingled his pathos and
indignation with all the skill of an artist ; while he actually
imparted a RafFaelle effect to his sketch, as he portrayed the
halt, the maimed, the blind, and the palsied that crowded
around the carriage as he changed hoi-ses, exclaiming, by way
of peroration, ' Misery and destitution like this no man ever
witnessed before, all real and unfeigned as it was sure
to be.'
"'Naas is a miserable place, indeed,' said I, for ho 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 beard. I
can't attempt such a description as Mr. Muspratt has given us,
but I will say, that there was not a human deformity or defect
that 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 " tenpenny "
in the midst. The "blind" fellow saw it first, but the "lame
cripple" had the foot of him, and got the money !'"
Repton leaned back in his chair, and laughed heartily as he
finished. " I only wish you saw his face, Martin ; and, indeed,
his excellency's too. The aides-de-camp laughed; they were
very young, and couldn't help it."
"He'll not make you a chief justice, Repton," said Martin,
slily.
"I'll take care he don't," said the other. "Siimmum jus
sinnma injuria. The chief justice is a great humbug, or a great
abuse, whichever way you like to render it."
11
146 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' 5IARTIN.
"And yet they'd be glad to promote you," said Martin,
thoughtfully.
"To be sure they would, sir; delighted to place me where
they had uo fear of my indisci'etions. But your judge should
be ever a grave animal. The temptation to a joke should never
sit on the ermine. As Flood once remarked to me of old Rom-
nej: 'A man, sir,' said he — and Flood had a semi-sarcastic
solemnity always about him — ' a man, sir, who has reversed the
law of physics ; for he rose by his gravity, and only fell by his
lightness.' Very epigrammatic and sharp, that. Ah ! Martin,
they don't say Ihese things now-a-days. By the way, who is
the young fellow who dined with us yesterday ? "
" His name is Nelligan ; the son of one of our Oughterard
neighbours."
" Pleasing manners, gentle, too, and observant," said Repton,
with the tone of one delivering a judgment to be recorded.
" He's more than that," said Martin ; " he is the great prize
man of the year in Trinity. You must have surely heard of
his name up in town."
"I think somebody did speak of him to me — recommend
him, in some shape or other," said Repton, abstractedly — " these
things are so easily forgotten; for, to say the ti^uth, I '^old very
cheaply all intellectual efforts accomplished by great prepara-
tion. The cramming, the grinding, the plodding, the artificial
memory work, and the rest of it, detract terribly, in my estima-
tion, from the glory of success. Give me your man of impromptu
readiness, never unpi'cparcd, never at a loss. The very con-
sciousness of power is double power." And as he spoke he
drew himself up, threw his head back, and stared steadfastl}' 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?"
"NcUigan"
"To be sure. I'll remember poor Curran's epigram:
Oh, pity poor Tom Nclligiiu !
Who wMlking down Pall Mall,
lie slipt his foot,
And down he fell,
And fears he ivon't get Avell aiwin.
A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 147
Glorious fellow, sir; the greatest of all the convivialists of his
time was Curran. A host iu 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 moi-e or less
of a " bore," and he already began to wish for his accustomed
ease and indolence.
" Well, Repton," said he, " you wished to see the quarries, I
think?"
"To see everything' and everybody, sir, and with my owe
eyes, too. As Lysaght said, when I read the book of nature,
' I let no man note my brief for me.' "
"I thought of being your companion, myself; but somehow,
this morning, my old enemy, the gout, is busy again ; however,
you'll not regret the exchange, Repton, when I give you in
charge to my niece. She'll be but too happy to do the honours
of our poor country to so distinguished a visitor."
"And a very artful plan to put me in good humour with
everything," said Repton, laughing. " Well, I consent. I offer
myself a willing victim to any amount of seduction. How ai'e
we to go? — do we drive, walk, or ride?"
" If Mary be consulted, she'll say ride," said Martin ; " but
perhaps "
" I'm for the saddle, too," broke iu Repton. " Give me some-
thing active and lively, light of mouth and well up before, and
I'll show you, as Tom Parsons said, that we can cut as good a
figure at the wall as the ' Bar.' "
"I'll go and consult my niece, then," said Martin, hastening
out of the room, to conceal the smile which the old man's vanity
had just provoked.
Mary was dressed in her riding-habit, and about to leave her
room as her uncle entered it.
"I have just come in the nick of time, Molly, I see," cried
he. " I want you to lionise an old friend of mine, who has the
ambition to 'do' Connemara under your guidance."
"What a provoke," said Mary, half aloud. "Could he not
wait for another day, uncle ? I have to go over to Glcucalgher
and Kilduff ; besides, there's that bridge to be looked after, and
they've just come to tell me that the floods have carried away
the stroijg paling around the larch copse. Really, this old
gentleman must wait." It was a rare thing for !Mavy Martin
to display anything either of impatience or opposition to her
11—2
148 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
uncle. Her affection for him was so blended witli respect, that
she scarcely ever transgressed in this wise ; but this morning
she was ill and irritable — a restless, feverish night following on
a day of great fatigue and as great excitement — and she was
still suffering, and her nerves jarring when he met her.
" But I assure you, Molly, you'll be pleased with the com-
panionship," 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. Nelli-
gan performe cicerone, or persuade my lady to drive him out ;
— do anything you like with him, except give him to me."
" And yet that is exactly what I have promised him. As for
Nelligan, they are not suited to each other ; so, come, be a good
girl, and comply."
"If I must," said she, pettishly — "And how are we to go?"
" He proposes to ride, and bespeaks something lively for hia
own mount."
" Indeed ! That sounds well ! " cried she, with more anima-
tion. " There's ' Cropper ' in great heart ; he'll carry him to
perfection. I'll have a ring-snaffle put on him, and my word
for it but he'll have a pleasant ride."
" Take care, Molly — take care that he's not too fresh. Re-
member that Repton is some dozen years or more my senior."
"Let him keep him off the grass, and he'll go like a lamb.
I'll not answer for him on the sward, thoiagh ; but I'll look to
him, uncle, and bring him back safe and sound." And so say-
ing, Mary bounded away down the stairs and away to the
stables, forgetting everything of her late discontent, and oul^f
eager on the plan before her.
Martin was very far from satisfied about the arrangement for
his friend's equitation ; nor did the aspect of Repton himself, as
attired for the road, allay that sense of alarm — the old lawyer's
costume being a correct copy of the coloured prints of those
worthies who figured in the early years of George the Third's
reign — a grey cloth spencer being drawn over his coat, fur-
collared and cuffed, high riding-boots of black polished leather,
reaching above the knee, and large gauntlets of bright-yellow
doeskin, completing an equipment which Martin had seen
nothing resembling for forty rears back.
"A perfect citvalier, Repton!" exclaimed be, smiling.
" We once co\ild do a little that way," said the other, with a
touch of vanity, "In our early days, Martin, hunting was
A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 149
essentially a g-entleman's pastime. The meet was not disfigured
by aspiring linendrapers 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 groom morals, and
we, of the old school, should only be laughed at for the pedantry
of good manners, ar i good English, did we venture amongst
them."
" My niece will put a different estimate on your companion-
ship ; and here she comes. Molly, my old and valued friend
Mr. Repton."
" I kiss your hand, Miss Martin," said he, accompanying the
speech by the act, with all the grace of a courtier. " It's worth
while being an old fellow, to be able to claim these antiquated
privileges."
There was something in the jaunty air and well- assumed
gallantry of the old lawyer which at once pleased Mary, who
accepted his courtesy with a gracious smile. She had been
picturing to herself a very different kind of companion, and
was well satisfied with the reality.
" I proposed to young Mr. Nelligan to join us," said Repton,
as he conducted her to the door ; " but it seems he is too deeply
intent upon some question, or point of law, or history, I forget
which, whereupon we differed last night, and has gone into the
library to search for the solution of it. As for me. Miss Martin,
I am too young for such dry 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 pi'opose 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 per-
tinent anecdote, were conversational povrers totally new to her.
Nor was he less charmed with her. Independently of all the
pleasure it gave him to find one who heard him with such true
enjoyment, and relished all his varied powers of amusing, he
was equally struck with the high-spirited enthusiasm and
generous ardour of the young girl. She spoke of the people
and the country with all the devotion of one who loved both ;
and if at times with more of hopefulness than he himself could
feel, the sanguine forecast but lent another charm to her fas-
cination.
150 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' MARTIN.
He listened with astonishment as she explained to him the
different works then in progress — the vast plans for drainage —
the great enclosures for planting — the roads projected, here, the
•bridges, there. At one place were strings of carts, conveying
limestone for admixture with the colder soil of low grounds;
at another they met asses, loaded with seaweed for the potato
land. There was movement and occupation on every side. In
the deep valleys, on the mountains, in the clefts of the rocky
shore, in the dark marble quarries, hundreds of people were
employed; and by these was Mary welcomed with eager
enthusiasm the moment she appeared. One glance at their
delighted features was sufficient to show that theirs was no
counterfeit joy. Wherever she went the same reception awaited
her ; nor did she tr}- to conceal the happiness it conferred.
" This is very wonderful, very strange, and very fascinating,
Miss Martin," said Repton, as they moved slowly through a
rocky path, escarped from the side of the raountain ; " but,
pardon me, if I venture to suggest one gloomy anticipation in
the midst of such brightness. What is to become of all these
people when you leave them — as leave them you will, and must,
one day?"
" I never mean to do so," said Mary, resolutely.
"Stoutly spoken," said he, smiling; "but, unfortunately, he
who hears it could be your grandfather. And again I ask, how
is this good despotism to be carried on when the despot abdi-
Gates? Nay, nay; there never was a very beautiful girl yet,
with every charm under heaven, who didn't swear she'd never
marry ; so let us take another alternative. Your nncle may go
to live in London — abi'oad. He may sell Cro' Martin "
" Oh ! that is impossible. He loves the old home of his
family, and his name, too dearly; he would be incapable of
such a treason to his house ! "
" Now, remember, my dear young lady, you are speaking to
the most suspectful, unimpulsive, and ungenerously-disposed of
all natures, an old lawyer, who has witnessed so many events in
life he woiild have once pronounced impossible — ay, just as
roundly as you said the word yourself — and seen people and
things, under aspects so totally the reverse of what he first
knew them, that he has taught himself to believe that change
is tlie law, and not permanence, in this life, and that you, and I,
and all of us, ought ever to look forward to anything, every-
thing, hut the condition in which at present we find ourselves.
Now, r doii't want to discourage you with the noble career you
A FINE OLD IH13H BAEEISTER. 151
have opened for yourself hei'e; I am far more likely to be
fascinated — I was going to say fall in love — with you for it,
than to try and turn your thoughts elsewhere; but as to these
people themselves, the experiment comes too late."
" Is it ever too late to repair a wrong, to assist destitution,
relieve misery, and console misfortune?" broke in Mary,
eagerly.
"It is too late to try the feudal system in the year of our
Lord 1829, Miss Martin. Wo live in an ag'e where everj^hino-
is to be redressed by a Parliament. The old social compact
between proprietor and peasant is repealed, and all must be
done by "the House." Now, if your grandfather had pursued
the path that you are doing to-day, this crisis might never have
ari'ived; but he did not, young lady. He lived like a real
gentleman; he hunted, and drank, and feasted, and rack-rented,
and horsewhipped all around him ; and what with duelling of a
morning and drinking over-night, taught the people a code of
morals that has assumed all the compactness of a system. Ay,
I say it with grief, this is a land corrupted from the top, and
every vice of its gentry has but filtered down to its populace !
What was that I heard? — was it not a shot?" cried he, reinino-
in his horse to listen.
"I thought so too; but it might be a blast, for we are not far
from the quai'ries."
"And do you preserve the game, Miss Martin? — are you
sworn foe to the poacher?"
" I do so ; but in reality more for the sake of the people than
the partridges. Your lounging country fellow, with a rusty
gun and a starved lurcher, is but an embryo highwayman."
" So he i.s," cried Repton, delighted at the energy with which
she spoke; "and I have always thought that the worst thing
about the game-laws was the class of fellows we educate to
break them. Poor old Cranbury 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 bouse; and, as they said
then, he "shot up" into preferment. He always deemed an
infraction of the game-laws as one of the gravest criTnes in the
statute. Juries, however, didn't concur with him, and, knowing
the severity of the penalty, they invariably brought in a verdict
of Not Guilty, rather than subject a poor wretch to transporta-
tion for a jack-snipe. I remember once — it was at Maiyborough :
the fellow in the dock was a notable poacher, and, worse still,
152 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
the scene of his exploits was Oranbuvy's own estate. As usual,
the jury listened apathetically to the evidence ; they cared little
for the case, and had predetermined the verdict. It was, how-
ever, so palpably proven, so self-evident that he was guilty, that
they clubbed their heads together to concert a pretext for their
decision. Ci'aubury saw the movement, and appreciated it, and,
leaning his head down upon his hand, mumbled out, as if talk-
ing to himself, in broken sentences, 'A poor man — with a large
family — great temptation — and, after all, a slight offence — a
very slight offence.' The jury listened and took courage ; they
fancied some scruples were at work in the old judge's heart, and
that they might venture on the truth, innocuously^ ' Guilty,
my lord,' said the foreman. ' Transportation for seven years ! '
cried the judge, with a look at the jury-bos 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?" ex-
claimed Mary, in horror.
"Ah! my dear young lady, T could tell you of far worse than
that. There was a time in this country when the indictment
against the prisoner was secondary in importance to his general
character, his party, his connections, and fifty .other things,
which had no bearing upon criminality. There goes another
Ghot! I'll swear to that," cried he, pulling up short and looking
in the direction from which the report proceeded.
Mary turned at the same moment, and pointed with her whip
towards a beech wood that skirted the foot of the mountain,
" Was it from that quarter the sound came ? " said she.
The sharp crack of a fowling-piece, quickly followed by a
second report, now decided the question; and, as if by mutual
consent, they both wheeled their horses re and, and set off at a
brisk canter towards the wood.
"I have taken especial pains about preserving this part of
the estate," said Mary, as they rode along. " It was my cousin
Harry's favourite cover when he was last at home, and he left I
can't say how many directions about it when quitting us, though,
to say truth, I never deemed any precautions necessary till he
spoke of it."
" So that poaching was unknown down here?"
"Almost completely so; now and then some idle fellow with
a half-bred greyhound might run down a hare, or with a rusty
firelock knock over a rabbit, but there it ended. And as we
have no gentry neighbours to ask for leave, and the Oiighterard
A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER. 153
folks would not venture on that liberty, I may safely say that
the report of a gun is a rare event in these solitudes."
" Whoever he be, yonder, is not losing time," said Repton ; —
"there was another shot."
Their pace had now become a smart half-gallop, Mary, a
little in advance, leading the way, and pointing out the safe
ground to her companion. As they drew nigh the wood, how-
ever, 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 you'll turn off to
the left, while I will remain in observation outside here,
so that if our friend make his exit I am sure to overtake
him. At all events, we shall meet again at the lower end of
the road."
Repton made her repeat her directions, and then, touching
his hat in respectful salutation, rode away to fulfil his mission.
A low gate, merely fastened by a loop of iron without a padlock,
admitted the lawyer within the precincts, in which he soon dis-
covered that his pace must be a walk, so heavy was the deep
clayey soil, littered with fallen leaves and rotting acorns. Great
trees bent their massive limbs over his head, and, even leafless
as they were, formed a darksome, gloomy aisle, the sides of
which were closed in with the wild holly and the broom, and
even the arbutus, all intermingled inextricably. There was
something solemn even to sadness in the deep solitude, and so
Repton seemed to feel as he rode slowly along, alone, tinging
his thoughts of her he had just quitted with melancholy.
" What a girl, and what a life ! " said he, musingly. " I must
tell Martin that this will never do ! What can all this devotion
end in but disappointment. With the first gleam of their
nowly-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
154 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
wider and wider, and at last the demagogue will take the place
of the landed proprietor. Estrangement at first, next distrust,
and finally dislike, will separate the gentry from the peasantry,
and then I tremble to think of what then! "
As Repton had uttered these words, the sharp bang of a gun
startled him, and at the same instant a young fellow sprang
from the copse in front of him into the alley. His coarse
fustian shooting-jacket, low-crowned oil-skin hat, and leather
gaiters, seemed to bespeak the professional poacher, and Repton
dashed forward with his heavy riding-whip, upraised, towards
him.
" Take care, old gentleman," said the young man, facing
about; "my second barrel is loaded, and if you dare "
"By Heaven! I'll thrash you, you scoundrel !" said Repton,
whose passion was now boiling over by a sudden bound of the
cob, which had nearly thrown him from the saddle — a mischance
greeted by a hearty burst of laug-hter from the stranger.
" I fancy you have quite enough to do at this moment ! " cried
he, still laughing.
Half mad with anger, Repton pressed his spurs to the cob's
flanks, while he gave him a vigorous cut of the whip on the
shoulder. The animal was little accustomed to such visage, and
reared up wildly, and would inevitably have fallen back with his
rider had not the stranger, springing forward, seized the bridle,
and palled him down by main force. Whether indifferent 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 thi'ough the bridle, so as to
render the other's escape impossible, coolly removed his hat and
proceeded to stanch the bleeding with his handkerchief — not
the slightest sign of excitement being displayed by him, nor
any evidence of feeling that the event was other than a mere
accident.
"Let loose my bridle-rein — let it loose, sir," said Repton,
passionately — more passionately, perhaps, from observing the
measured calmness of the other.
"When I know who you ai-e, I shall," said the young man.
" My name is Valentine Repton ; my address, if you want it,
is Merrion-square North, Dublin; and can you now tell me
whei'e a magistrate's warrant will reach you?'^
"My present residence is a house you may have seen on
A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER, 155
the side of the mountain as you came along, called, I think,
Barnagheela ; my name is Massingbred."
" You presume to be a gentleman, then ? " said Repton.
" T have not heard the matter disputed before," said Jack,
with an easy smile, while he leisurely bound the handkerchiet
round his head.
"And, of course, you look for satisfaction for this?"
"I trust that there can be no mistake upon that point, at
least," replied he.
"And you shall have it, too; though, hang me, if I well
know whether you should not receive it at the next assizes — but
you shall have it. I'll go into Oughterard this day; I'll be
there by nine o'clock, at the Martin Arms."
"That will do," said Massingbred, with a coolness almost
like indifference ; while he resumed his gun, which he had
thrown down, and proceeded to load the second barrel.
"You ai'e aware that you are poaching here?" said Repton
— " that this is part of the Martin estate, and strictly pre-
served ? "
" Indeed ! and I thought it belonged to Magennis," said Jack,
easily ; but a preserve without a gamekeeper, or even a notice,
is a blockade without a blockading squadron." And without a
word more, or any notice of the other, Massingbred shouldered
his gun and walked away.
It was some time before Repton could summon resolution to
leave the spot, such was the conflict of thoughts that went on
within him. Shame and sorrow were, indeed, uppermost in his
mind, but still not unmiugled with anger at the consummate
ease and coolness of the other, who by this line of conduct
seemed to assume a tone of superiority the most galling and
insulting. In vain did he endeavour to justify his act to him-
self — in vain seek to find a plausible pretext for his anger. He
could not, by all his ingenuity, do so, and he only grew more
passionate at his own failure. "Another would hand him over
to the next justice of the peace — would leave him to quarter
sessions; but not so Val Repton" — "No, by Jove, he'll find a
man to his humour there, if he wants fighting," said he aloud,
as he turned his horse about and rode slowly back.
It was already dusk when he joined Miss Martin, who,
uneasy at his prolonged absence, had entered the wood in
search of him. It required all the practised dissimulation of
the old lawyer to conceal the signs of hia late adventure; nor
indeed were his replies to her questions quite free from a certain
156 THE MARTINS OF CRO SIARTIN.
amount of inconsistency. Mary, however, willingly changed
the subject, and led him back to speak of topics more agreeable
and congenial to him. Still he was not the same sprightly
companion who had ridden beside her in the morning. He
conversed with a degree of effort, and, when suffered, would
relapse into long intervals of silence.
"Who inhabits that bleak-looking house yonder?" said he,
Buddenly.
"A certain Mr. Magennis, a neighbour, but not an acquaint,
ance 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 Oughter-
ard, the man who sets himself most strenuously in opposition to
our influence in the borough, and would uproot our power there,
were he able."
" So far, then, he is a courageous fellow."
" Sometimes I take that view of his conduct, and at others I
am disposed to regard him as one not unwilling to make terms
with us."
"How subtle all these dealings can make a young lady!"
Baid Repton, slily.
" Say, rather, what a strain upon one's acuteness it is to ride
out with a gi-eat lawyer, one so trained to see spots in the sun,
that he won't acknowledge its brightness if there be a speck to
search for."
"And yet it's a great mistake to suppose that we are always
looking on the dark side of human nature," said he, reflectively ;
*' though," added he, after a pause, "it's very often our business
to exaggerate baseness, and make the worst of a bad man."
"Even that may be more pardonable than to vilify a good
one," said Mary.
"So it is, young lady; you are quite right there." He was
thoughtful for a while, and then said — "It is very singular, but
nevertheless true, that, in my profession, one loses sight of the
individual, as such, and only regards him as a mere element of
A FINE OLD IRISH BARRISTER, 157
the case, plaintiff or defendant as he may be, I reinemhoi'
once, in a southern circuit, a hale, fine-looking' young' fellow
entering my room to present me with a hare. He had walked
twelve miles to offer it to me. ' Your honour doesn't remember
me,' said he, sorrowfully, and evidently grieved at my forgetful-
ness, ' To be sure I do,' replied I, trying to recal his features ;
'you are — let me see — you are — I have it — you are Jemmy
Ryan.'
'"No, sir,' rejoined he, quickly, 'I'm the boy that murdered
him!'
"Ay, Miss Martin, there's a leaf out of a lawyer's note-book,
and yet I could tell you more good traits of men and women,
more of patient martyrdom under wrong, more courageous
suffering to do right, than if I were — what shall I say ? — a
chaplain in a nobleman's family."
Repton's memory was well stored with instances in question,
and he beguiled the way by relating several, till they reached
Cro' Martin.
"And there is another yet," added he, at the close, "more
strongly illustrating what I have said than all these, but I
cannot tell it to you."
" Why so ? " asked she, eagerly.
"It is a family secret. Miss Martin, and one that in all
likelihood you shall never know. Still, I cannot refrain from
saying that you have in your own family as noble a specimen
of self-sacrifice and denial as I ever heard of"
They were already at the door as he said this, and a troop of
servants had assembled to receive them. Mary, therefore, had
no time for further inquiry, had such an attempt been of any
avail.
" There goes the first dinner-bell, Miss Martin," said Repton,
gaily. " I'm resolved to be in the drawing-room before you ! "
And with this he hopped briskly up stairs, while Mai-y hastened
to her room to dress.
158 IHE MARTINS OF CEO M-UITW.
CHAPTER XV.
"a ruined fortune."
.No strong-er contrast could be presented than that offered by
the 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 neigh-
bour. A low wall, coped with a formidable " frize " of bi-okeu
bottles and crockery, enclosed a space in front once destined for
a garden, but left in its original state of shingle, intermixed
with the remnants of building materials and scaffold planks.
A long shed, abutting on the house, sheltered a cow and a
horse ; the latter standing with his head above a rickety half
door, and looking ruefully out at the dismal landscape beneath
him.
Most of the window were broken — and in some no attempt
at repair had been made — indicating that the rooms within
were left unused. The hall-door stood ajar, but fastened by a
strong iron chain ; but the roof, more than all besides, bespoke
decay and neglect, the rafters being in many places totally bare,
while in others some rude attempts at tiling compensated for
the want of the original slates. A strong colony of jackdaws
had established themselves in one of the chimneys; but from
another, in the centre of the building, a thick volume of dark-
blue smoke rolled continually, conveying, indeed, the only sign
of habitation about this dreary abode.
The inside of the house was, if possible, more cheerless than
the out. Most of the rooms had never been finished, nnd still
remained in their coarse brown plaster, and unprovi.i . 1 with
"a RUIXED FORTUNE." 159
grates or chimney-pieces. The parlour, par excellence, was a
long, low-ceilinged chamber, with yellow-ochre walls, dimly
lighted by two narrow windows ; its furniture, a piece of
ragged carpet beneath a rickety table of black mahogany, some
half-dozen crazy chairs, and a small sideboard, surmounted by
something that might mean buffet or bookcase, and now served
for both, being indifferently garnished with g-lasses, decanters,
and thumbed volumes, intermingled with salt-cellars, empty
sauce-bottles, and a powder-flask.
An atrociously painted ^^icture of an officer in scarlet uniform
hung over the fireplace, surmounted by an infauti-y sword, sus-
pended by a much-worn sash. These were the sole decorations
of the room, to which even the great turf fire that blazed on
the hearth could not impart a look of comfort.
It was now a little after nightfall ; the shutters were closed,
and two attenuated tallow candles dimly illuminated this dreary
chamber. A patched and much-discoloured tablecloth, with
some coarse knives and forks, bespoke preparation for a meal,
and some half-dozen plates stood warming before the fire. But
the room had no occu^iant; and, except for the beating of the
shutters against the sash, as the wind whistled through the
broken window, all was silent within it. Now and then a loud
noise would resound through the house ; doors would bang, and
rafters rattle, as the hall-door would be partially opened to
permit the head of a woman to peer out and listen if any one
were coming ; but a heavy sigh at each attemjit showed that
hope was still deferred, and the weary footfall of her steps, as
she retired, betrayed disappointment. It was after oue of these
excursions that she sat down beside the kitchen fire, screening
her face from the blaze with her apron, and then, in the subdued
light, it might be seen that, although bearing many traces of
sorrow and suffering, she was still young and handsome.
Large masses of the silkiest brown hair, escaping from her cap,
fell in heavy masses on her neck ; her eyes were large and
blue, and shaded by the lono-est lashes; her mouth, a little
large, perhaps, was still beautifully formed, and her teeth were
of surpassing whiteness. The expression of the whole fiice
was of gentle simplicity and love — love in which timidity,
however, deeply entered, and made the feeling one of acute
suffering. In figure and dress she was exactly like any other
peasant girl, a gaudy silk handkerchief on her neck being the
only article of assumed luxury in her costume. She wore
shoes, it ia true — not altogether the custom of countrv girls —
160 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
but they weve heavy and coarsely made, and imparted to her
walk a hobbling motion that detracted from her appearance.
A large pot which hung suspended by a chain above the fire
seemed to demand her especial care, and she more than once
removed the wooden cover to inspect the contents; after which
she invariably approached the window to listen, and then came
back sorrowfully to her place, her lips muttering some low
sounds inaudibly. Once she tried to hum a part of a song to
try and beguile the time, but the eflFort was a failure, and, as
her voice died away, two heavy tears stole slowly along her
cheeks, and a deep sob burst from her ; after which she threw
her apron over her face, and buried her head in her lap. It
was as she sat thus that a loud knocking shook the outer door,
and the tones of a gruff voice rose even above the noise; but
she heard neither. Again and again was the summons repeated,
with the same result ; and at last a handful of coarse gravel
struck the kitchen window with a crash that effectually aroused
her, and, springing up in tei'ror, she hastened to the door.
In an instant she had unhooked the heavy chain, and shelter-
ing the candle with her hand, admitted a large, powerfully-
built man, who was scarcely within the hall, when he said,
angrily, "Where the devil wei'e you, that you couldn't hear
ine°?"
" I was in the kitchen, Tom," said she.
" Don't call me Tom, d — n you : " replied he, violently. " Don't
keep dinning into me the infernal fool that I've made of myself,
or it will be the worse for you."
" Sure I never meant any harm by it ; and it was your own
self bid me do it," said she, meekly, as she assisted him to
remove his dripping great-coat.
"And don't I rue it, well," rejoined he, through his half-
closed teeth. " Isn't it this confounded folly that has shut me
out of the best houses in the county ! My bitter curse on the
day and the hour I first saw you."
" Oh, don't say them words — don't, or you'll break my poor
heart," cried she, clinging to him as he strode angrily into the
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.
"a ruined fortune." 161
** 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 here,"
burst he forth suddenly, as he sprung to his legs and stared
angrily around him. " Maybe he supposes that it's great con-
descension for him to put up with my humble house ! Ay, and
that it's my bouuden duty to wait for him to any hour he pleases.
If I thought he did — if I was sure of it! " added he, with a
deep guttural tone, while he struck his clenched fist violently
against the chimney-piece. Then, seizing the large iron poker,
be knocked loudly with it against the back of the fireplace — a
summons quickly answered by the appearance of the girl at
the door.
*' Did he come in since morning ? " asked he, abruptly.
"No, sir, never," replied she, with a half curtsey.
*' Nor say what time he'd be back ? "
" Not a word, sir."
" Then, maybe, he's not coming back — taken French leave, as
they call it, eh, Joan ? "
The sound of her name, spoken, too, in an accent of more
friendly meaning, lighted I'p 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
*o make mention, without attempting in the least to explain,
12
162 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
bat no soonei' was Mageunis in the presence of his young>
guest, thau not only he seemed to forget all possible cause of
irritation towards him, but to behave with a manner of, for him.
the most courteous civility. He aided him to remove his shot-
belt and his bag; took his hat from his hands, and carefully
wiped it; placed a chair for him close to the fire; and then, as
he turned to address him, remarked for the first time the blood-
stained handkerchief which still bound his forehead.
" Did you fall — had you an accident ? " asked he, eagerly.
"No," said the other, laughing; "a bit of an adventure only,
which I'll tell you after dinner."
" Was it any of the people ? Had you a fight "
" Come, Magennis, you must exercise a little patience. Not a
word, not a syllable, till I have eaten something, for I am
actually famishing."
A stout knock of the poker on the chimney summoned the
dinner, and almost in the same instant the woman entered with
a smoking dish of Irish stew.
"Mrs. Joan, 3'Ou'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, Mas, does it always rain
in this fashion here ? "
" No ; it sleets now and then, and sometimes blows."
"I should think it does," said Jack, seating himself at the
table. " The pleasant little slabs of marble one sees on the
cabin-roofs to keep down the thatch, are signs of your western
zephyrs. — Mrs. Joan has outdone herself to-day. This is tii-st-
rate."
" There's too strong a flavour of hare in it," said j\Iagennis,
critically.
"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 compen-
sated for by the racy enjoyment of the speaker, and Magennis
was really gratified at the zest with which his young friend
relished his meal.
"It has one perfection, at least," said he, modestly — "it's
very unlike what you get at home."
" W(^ liave a goodish sort of a cook," said Jack, langnidly —
" a fellow my father picked up after the Congress of Verona,
**A RUINED FORTUNE.** 163
Truffles and treaties seem to have some strong sympathetic
attraction, aud when diplomacy had finished its work, a clief
was to be had cheap! The worst of the class is, they'll only
functionate for your grand dinners, and they leave your every-
day meal to some inferior in the department."
It was strange that Mageunis could listen with interest
always whenever Massingbred spoke of habits, people, and
places, with which he had never been conversant. It was not
so much for the topics themselves he cared — they were, in
reality, valueless in his eyes — it was some singular pleasure he
felt in thinking that the man who could so discuss them was
his own guest, seated at his own table, thus connecting himself
by some invisible link with the great ones of this world !
Massingbred's very name — the son of the celebrated Moore
Massingbred — a Treasury Lord — Heaven knows what else
besides — certainly a Right Honourable — was what first fasci-
nated him in his young acquaintance, and induced him to invite
him to his house. Jack would pi'obably have declined the
invitation, but it just came at the moment when he was deeply
mortified at Nelligan's absence — an absence which old Dan was
totally unable to explain or account for. Indeed, he had
forgotten that, in his note to his son, he had not mentioned
Massingbred by name, and thus was he left to all the embarrass-
ment of an apology without the slightest clue as to the nature
of the excuse.
No soonei', then, was it apparent to Massingbred that young
Nelligan did not intend to return home, than he decided on
taking his own departure. At first he determined on going
back to Dublin. But suddenly a malicious thought sprung up
of all the mortification it might occasion Joe to learn that he
was still in the neighbourhood ; and with the amiable anticipa-
tion of this vengeance, he at once accepted Magenuis's ofier to
" accompany him to his place in the mountains and have some
shooting."
It would not have been easy to find two men so essentially
unlike in every respect as these two, who now sat discussing
their punch after dinner. In birth, bringing-up, habits, instincts,
they were widely dissimilar, and yet, somehow, they formed a
sort of companionship palatable to each. Each had something
to tell the other, which he had either not heard before, or not
heard in the same way. We have already adverted to the
strong fascination Magennis experienced in dwelling on the
rank and social position of his young guest. Massingbred
12—2
16i THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTHT.
experienced no less delight in the indulgence of his favourite
pastime — adventure hunting ! Now, here was really something
like adventure : this wild, rude mountain home — this strange
compound of gloom and passion — this poor simple country girl,
more than servant, less than wife — all separated from the
remainder of the world by a gulf wider than mere space.
These were all ingredients more than enough to suggest matter
for imagination, and food for after-thought in many a day to
come.
They had thus passed part of a week in company, when the
incident occurred of which our last chapter makes mention, and
an account of which, now, Massingbred proceeded to give his
host, neither exaggerating nor diminishing in the slightest
particular any portion of the event. He even repressed his
habitual tendency to sarcasm, and spoke of his antagonist
seriously and respectfully. "It was quite clear," said he, in
conclusion, "that he didn't know I was a gentleman, and con-
sequently never anticipated the consequence of a blow."
"And he struck you ?" broke in Magennis, violently.
" You shall see for yourself," said Jack, smiling, as, untying
the handkerchief, he exhibited a deep cut on his forehead, from
which the blood still continued to ooze.
" Let Joan doctor you — she's wonderful at a cut. She has
something they call Beggarman's Balsam. I'll fetch her.
And without waiting for a reply he left the room. The young
woman speedily after appeared with some lint and a small pot
of ointment, proceeding to her oflBce with all the quiet assiduity
of a practised hand, and a gentleness that few " regulars " could
vie with. Her skill was more than recompensed by the few
muttered words of praise Magennis bestowed, as he grumbled
out, half to himself, " Old Cahill himself 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 thaty
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 might there not be dispensed — and
nobody living one jot the poorer ! How many are there toiling
away in obscurity and narrow fortune, to whom one single word
of praise — one chance syllable of encouragement — would b«
'v^
"a ruined FORTirNE," 165
life's blood! Wkat sunken cheeks and lacklustre eyes would
glow and gladden again by even a look of sympathy, withheld
from no lack of kindliness, but mere want of thought ! Oh ye,
■who have station, and fame, genius, or greatness, bethink ye
that these gifts are never higher than when they elevate the
humble and cheer the lowly, and there is no physician like him
who animates the drooping heart, and gives new vigour to
■wearied faculties and failing energy. Joan was made happy
by the two or three words of grateful thanks Massingbred
addressed to her, and stole quietly away, leaving the two com-
panions once more alone.
If there was any incident in life participation in which could
convey intense gratification to Magennis, it was that sort of
difference or misunderstanding that might lead to a duel.
Whenever the affair offered no other alternative, his delight
was unbounded. There were, it was rumoured, events in his
own early life which would imply that the taste for mortal
combat extended only to cases where his friends were concerned,
and had no selfish application whatever. Of these we know
nothing; nor, indeed, have we any information to convey
regai'ding him, save by chance and stray words dropped by
himself in the ungarded hours of after-dinner converse. There
are, however, many who like the subordinate parts in this
world's comedy — who would rather be best man than bride-
groom, and infinitely prefer performing second, to princii^al.
We are not, how^ever, going into the inquirj^ 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 consum-
mate tact and ability.
" You're in luck, Massingbred," cried he, as the other con-
cluded 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 kingdoms. It was I, sir, took out Cahill when
he shot Major Harris, of the Fusiliers. I handled him that
morning in a way that made the English officers confess there
was i/.o chance against us! A duel seems an easy thing to
arrange. You'd say that any fool could jiut up two men,
twelve, or even ten, paces asunder, and tell them to blaze away;
and if that was all there was in it, it would be simple enough ;
but consider for a minute the real case, and just remember how
much the nature of the ground, whether level or uneven, has to
do with it; what's behind, if a wall, or trees, or only sky; the
166 THE MARTIKS OF CRO' MARTIN.
state of the ligbt; how the sun stands; whether there's wind,
and what way it's coming. These are not all. There's the
pistols — how they ^throiv,' 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 ' invul-
nerable position."
"By Jove! that's a most valuable fact to me just now," said
Jack, helping himself to a fresh tumbler. " I'm glad you have
not been retained by the other side."
" The ' invulnerable position ! ' " continued Magennis, perfectly
heedless of the other's remark ; while, taking up the poker, he
stalked out to the middle of the room, drawing himself np 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," re;ioined the other, proudly, " nobody ever
did that wasn't 'out' often. Pay attention now, and I'll explain
it. J\Iy head, you perceive, is carried far behind my right
shoulder, so as to be completely protected by my pistol-hand
and the pistol, I say the pistol, because it has been proved
scientifically that the steadiest eye that ever fired never could
aim at the antagonist's pistol. Morris Crofton practised it for
eight years in his own garden, and though he did succeed, he
told me that for practical purposes it was no use. Now we
come to the neck, and you may observe the bend of my elbow.
Ay, that little angle that nobody would remark masks the
jugular arteries, and all the other vital nerves in that part.
John Toler used to say that the head and neck was like the
metropolis, and that a shot elsewhere was only like a 'row' in
the provinces : and a very true and wise remark it was. Not
that I neglect the trunk," added he, proudly, " for you see how
I stand — three-quarters of the back towards the enemy, so as
not to expose the soft parts. As for the legs," cried he, con-
temptuously, " 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 counterpane over him. Billy Welsh, that fought Brian
of Deanstown, was the fii'st man I ever ' put up ' in it, Billy
had a slight crick of the neck, and couldn't get the head far
enouifh round to the nsfht, and the ball took him in the bridge
"a ruined fortune. 167
of the nose, and carried that feature clean off, bnt revp''
damaged him in any other respect whatever!"
"I must say that the loss was quite suiBcieut for a man who
had the benefit of the ' invulnerable position,' " said Massing-
bred, quietly.
"He thinks nothing of it. A chap in the Crow-street
Theatre made him a better nose than ever he had, out of wax,
I believe; and he has a winter one, with a blush of red on it,
to make believe it was cold, and they tell me you'd never dis-
cover 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
whiskey to his punch.
" You say that he's to be in Oughterard to-night ; well, with
the blessing of the Virgin" — an invocation he invariably
applied to every act of dubious morality — " we'll be with him
before he's out of bed to-morrow ! "
"I wish he had not given me a blow," said Jack, musingly.
"He seemed such a stout-hearted, spirited old fellow, I'm really
grieved to quarrel with him."
" I'm glad that there's nobody to hear them words but
myself, Mr. Massingbred," said the other, with all the slowness
and deliberation of incipient drunkenness — " I'm rejoiced, sir,
that it's in the confidential intercourse of friendly — friendly — •
communication — that the son of my old and valued friend —
Moore Massingbred — used expressions like that."
Jack started with amazement at this speech ; he had not the
slightest suspicion till that moment that Magennis and his
father had ever known each other, or even met. A very little
patience, however, on his part served to solve the diflBculty, for
he discovered that one of the peculiarities of this stage of his
friend's ebi'iety was to fancy himself the intimate and associate
of any one whose name he had ever heard mentioned.
" Ay, sir, them's words your father would never have uttered.
I was with him in his first blaze. 'Moore,' says I, '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, such a portrait of his parent's appearance
being manifestly unlike anything he had ever imagined.
"And the worse manners yours, sir," rejoined Magennis,
168 Tms MARTras of ceo' martin,
rudely. " I'll not suffer any man to laugh at an old friend — and
— and — schoolfellow ! "
It was with the very greatest difficulty that Jack could
restrain himself at this peroration, which indignation — the
same, probably, that creates poets — had suggested. He had,
however, tact enough to preserve his gravity, whilst he assured
his companion that no unfilial sentiment had any share in his
thoughts,
" So far, so well," said Magennis, who now helped himself to
the whiskey, unadulterated by any water, " otherwise, sir, it's
not Lieutenant Magennis, of the — 9th Foot, would handle you
on the ground to-morrow ! "
" So, then, you've served, Mac ? Why, you never broke that
to me before ! "
" Broke ! " cried the other, with a voice shrill from passion,
while he made an effort to rise from his chair, and sunk back
again — "broke! who dares to say I was 'broke.' I left tha
scoundrels myself I shook the dust off my feet after thenx.
There never was a court-martial about it. Never — never ! "
To the deep crimson that suffused his face before, there now
succeeded an almost death-like pallor, and Massingbred really
felt terrified at the change. Some 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
himself, " that finished me ! I never held my head up again !
Who could, after such a business ? I came here, Mr. Massing-
bred," continued he, but addressing his guest in a tone of deep
respect — " I came back here a ruined man, and not eight-and-
twenty! You see me now, a dirty, drunken sot, not better
dressed, nor better mannered, than the commonest fellow on
the road, and yet I'm a gentleman born and bred, well nurtured,
and well educated. I took a college degree, and went into the
army." He paused, as if trying to gather courage to go on ;
the effort was more than he could accomplish, and, as the heavy
tears stole slowly down his cheeks, the agony of the struggle
might be detected. Half mechanically he seized the decanter
of whisky and poured the tumbler nearly full ; but Jack good-
humom-edly stretched out his hand towards the glass, and said,
" Don't drink, Mac ; there's no head could stand it."
" You think so, boy," cried he, with a saucy smile. " Little
you know the way we live in the west, here ;" and he tossed off
" A RUIXED FOETUXE," 169
the liqaor before the other could stop him. The empty glass
had scarcely been replaced on the table, when all the former
signs of drunkenness had come back again, and in his bloodshot
eyes and swollen veins might be seen the very type of passionate
debauch.
" Not ask me to their houses ! " cried he, hoarse with passion.
"Who wants them? Not invite me! Did I ever seek them?
The dirty, mean spalpeens, don't I know the history of every
one of them? Couldn't I expose them from one end of the
county to the other ? Who's Blake of Harristown ? He's the
son of Lucky Magarry, the jiedlar. You don't believe me. I
had it from Father Cole himself. Lucky was hanged at Ennis.
'Ye want a confession!' says Lucky, when he came out on the
drop — ' ye want a confession ! Well, I suppose there's no use
in keeping anything back now, for ye'll hang me at any rate,
and so here it's for you. It was I murdered Mr. Shea, and
there was nobody helping me at all. I did it all myself with a
flail ; and be the same token, it's under Mark Bindon's tomb-
stone this minute. There now, the jury may be azy in their
minds, and the judge, and the hangman too, if he cares about
it. As for his honour the high sheriff,' said he, raising his
voice, ' he's a fine man, God bless him, and the county may be
proud of him, for it was he ferreted out all about this business!
And faix, notwithstanding all, I'm proud of him myself, for he's
my own son ! ' And as he said that he dropped on his knees
and cried out that he might never see glory if there was a word
of lie in anything he said then ! So that's what Blake got for
his zeal for justice ! "
And as Magennis finished, he burst into a wild, fiendish
laugh, and said :
" There's the country gentry — there's the people won't know
Magennis and his wife! — ay, sir, his lawful, married wife ! Let
me see that you or any other man will deny it, or refuse to
treat her as becomes her station. — Joan ! Joan ! " shouted he,
striking the poker violently against the chimney; and with hot
haste and intense anxiety the poor girl rushed into the room the
moment after. " Sit down here, ma'am," said Magennis, rising,
and placing a chair for her beside his own, with an aflfectation
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 witli respect," said Massiugbred,
** and shall always continue to do so."
170 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
"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 hei'd's daughter, indeed! No, sir, Mrs. Magennis, of
Barnagheela, that's her name and title!"
At these words the poor girl, ovei^come with joy and gratitude,
fell down upon her knees before him, and, clasping his hand,
covered it with kisses.
"Isn't ihat pretty breeding!" cried Magennis, violently.
" Get up, ma'am, and sit on your chair like a lady. The
devil a use in it, do what you will, say what you will — the
bad ' drop ' is in them ; and whatever becomes of you in life,
Massingbred, let me give you this advice — never marry beneath
you!"
Jack contrived at this juncture to signal to the girl to step
away, and by appearing to attend with eagerness to Magennis,
he prevented his remarking her exit.
" A man's never really ruined till then," continued he, slowly,
and evidently sobering again as he went on. " Friends fal)
away from you, and your companions are sure to be fellows wit]>
something against them ! You begin by thinking you're doing
a grand and a courageous thing! You string up your resolution
to despise the world, and, take my word for it, the world'pays
you off at last. Ay," said he, after a long pause, in which his
features settled down into an expression of deep sorrow, and
his voice quivered Avitli emotion — " ay, and I'll tell you some-
thing worse than all — you revenge all your disappointment on
the poor girl that trusted you ! and you break her heart to try
and heal your own ! "
With these last words he buried his head between his hands
and sobbed fearfully.
" Leave me now — leave me alone," said he, without lifting
his head. " Good night — good night to you !"
Massingbred arose without a word, and, taking a candle,
ascended to his chamber, his last thoughts about his host being
very unlike those with which he had first regarded him. From
these considerations he tiirned to others more immediately con-
cerning 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
"a ruixed fortune.'* 171
" Joe Nelligan, perhaps, might but no, he would have been
infiuitely more unfit than the other. At all events, Nelligan
has himself severed the friendship that once existed between
us." And so he wandered on to thoughts of his former com-
panionship with him. Regretful and gloomy enough were
they, as are all memories of those in whose hearts we once
believed we had a share, and from which we cannot reconcile
ourselves to the exclusion.
" He had not the manliness to meet me when I had become
aware of his real station ! What a poor-spirited fellow ! Just
as if I cared what or who his father was. My theory is — Jack
Massingbred can afford to know any man he pleases! Witness
the roof that now shelters me, and the character of him who is
my host!"
It was a philosophy he built much upon, for it was a form of
self-love that simulated a good quality, many of his acquaint-
ances saying, "At all events, there's no snobbery about Mass-
ingbred; 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-deception, that he who indulges in it, often
becomes an actor. As for Massingbred, there was nothing real
about him save his egotism ! Gifted with very good abilities,
aided by a strong " vitality," he had great versatility ; but of
all powers, this same plastic habit tends most to render a man
artificial.
Now, his pi'esent difficulty was by no means to his taste.
He did not like his "quari-el;" he liked less the age and station
of his adversary; and, least of all, was he pleased with the
character of his "friend." It was said of Sheridan, that when
consulted about the music of his operas, he only asked, "Will
it grind ? " — that is, would it be popular enough for a street-
organ, and become familiar to every ear ? So Jack Massingljred
regarded each event in life by the test of how it would "tell"—
in what wise could a newspaper report it — and how would it
read in the Clubs? He fancied himself discussing- the adventure
at " White's," and asking, "Can any one say what Massingbred's
row was about ? Was he poaching ? — or how came he there ?
172 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Was there a woman in it? And who is his friend Magennis?"
In thoughts like these he passed hour after hour, walking his
room from end to end, and waiting for morning.
At length he bethought him how little likely it was that
Magennis would remember anything whatever of the trans-
action, and that his late debauch might obliterate all memory
of the affair. "What if this were to be the case, and that we
were to arrive to late at Oughterard? A pretty version would
the papers then publish to the world ! " Of all possible casual-
ties this was the very worst, and the more he reflected on it,
the more probable did it seem. "He is the very fellow to
•wake up late in the afternoon, rub his eyes, and declare he had
forgotten the whole thing."
"This will never do!" muttered he to himself; and at once
determined that he wovdd make an endeavour to recal his
friend to consciousness, and come to some arrangement for the
approaching meeting. 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 coorse he will ! " said she, proudly. " No matter what
he took of a night, nobody ever saw the signs of it on him, the
next morning."
" I did not ask out of any impertinent curiosity," continued
Massingbred, "but we have, both of us, some rather important
business to-morrow in Oughterard — we ought to be there at an
early hour "
" I know," said she, interrupting. " He bid me bring down
these;" and she pointed to a case of pistols lying open beside
hei', and in cleaning which she had been at the moment engaged.
"I brought the wrong ones, first." Here she stammered out
Bomething, and grew crimson over hex whole face; then
"a ruined fortune.'* 173
suddenly recovering- herself, said, "I didn't know it was the
* Terries' he wanted."
" The ' Terries ? ' " repeated Jack.
"Yes, sir. It was these Terry Callaghan shot the two
gentlemen with, the same morning, at Croghaglin — father and
son they were!" And saying these words in a voice of the
most perfect unconcern possible, she took up a flannel rag and
began to polish the lock of one of the weapons.
"They'i-e handsome pistols," said Jack, rather amused with
her remark.
"They're good, and that's better!" replied she, gravely.
" That one in your hand has seven double crosses on the stock
and nine single."
" The seven were killed on the ground, I suppose ? "
A short nod of assent was her reply.
" Such little events are not unfrequent down here, then ? "
"Anan!" said she, not understanding his question.
Jack quickly perceived that he had not taken sufficient ac-
count 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. He forgets many a thing, but no man liv-
ing can say that he ever misremembered a duel." And with these
words, in a low whisper, she motioned Massingbred to the door.
Jack obeyed in silence, and, ascending to his room, lay down
on the bed. He determined to pass the interval before morning
in deep thought and self-examination; but, somehow, he had
scarcely laid his head on the pillow when he fell off into a
heavy sleep, sound and dreamless.
The day was just breaking when he was aroused by a some-
what mde shake, and a voice saying :
" Come, up with you. We've a sharp ride before us ! "
Jack started up, and in an instant recalled all the exigencies
of the hour.
"I have sent 'the tools' forward by a safe hand," continued
Magennis ; " and Joan has a cup of tea ready for us, below
stairs. So, lose no time now, and let us be off."
174 tHE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
The bumble meal tbat awaited them was soon despatched,
and tbey were speedily mounted ou the pair of mountain ponies
Magennis 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 being a foot shorter
than the otlier, while an old worsted bell-rope formed the snaffle-
rein of his bridle.
The road, too, was ragged 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 oat-
skirts of the town, not fanc3ang to make a public appearance
on his humble steed.
" "Why so ? "' answered Magennis. " It's ashamed of the
pony you are ! Oh, for the matter of that, don't distress your-
self; 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, suddenl}'-, and they
wheeled into an arched gateway that opened upon the stable-
yard of the inn. Early as it was, the place was full of bustle
and movement, for it was the market-day, and the farmers were
already arriving.
Carts, cars, gigs, and a dozen other nameless vehicles, crowded
the spot, with kicking ponies and mules of malicious disposition;
grooming, and shoeing, and unharnessing went on, with a noise
and merriment that was perfectly deafening ; and Massingbred,
as he threaded his way through the crowd, soon perceived
how little notice he was likely to attract in such an assembly.
Magennis soon dismounted, and having given directions about
the beasts, led Jack into the house, and up a narrow, creaking
stair, into a small room, with a single window, and n bed in one
corner. "This is where I always put up," said he, 1 ing down
his hat and whip, "and it will do well enou h fo. he time
we'll want it."
'a challenge** 175
CHAPTER XVI
" & CHALLEKufi."
"He's here; he arrived last night," said Magennis, as bo
entered the room after a short exploring tour through the
Btables, the kitchen, and every other quarter where iutelligenca
might be come at. "He ca«ie alone; but the major of the
detachment supped with him, and that looks like business! "
" The earlier you see him the better, then," said Massingbred.
" I'll just go and get my beard off," said he, passing his hand
across a very grizzly stubble, " and I'll be with him in less than
half an hour. There's only a point or two I want to be clear
about. Before he struck you, did you gesticulate, or show any
intention of using violence?"
"None. I have told you that I caught his horse by the
bridle, but that was to save him from falling back."
"Ah, that was indiscreet, at all events."
"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 foi-ehead.
"And he seemed to understand at once that reparation was to
be made for it ? "
" The suggestion came from himself, frankly and speedily."
"Well, it's pretty evident we have to deal with a gentle-
man!" said Magennis, "and that same's a comfort; so I'll
leave you now for a short time : amuse yourself as well as you
can, but don't quit the room." And with this caution Magennis
took his departure, and set off in search of Mr. Repton's cham-
ber.
" Where are you bringing the mutton chops, Peter ? " said ha
176 THE MARTIIs^S OF CRO' MARTIN.
to a waiter, wlio, with a well-loaded tray of eatables, waa
hastening along the corridor.
" To the ould counsellor, from Dublin, sir. He's breakfastia*
with the major."
"And that's his room, No. 19?"
" Yes, sir."
" They're merry, at all events," said Magennis, as a burst of
hearty laughter was heard from within the chamber.
" 'Tis just that they are, indeed," replied Peter. " The
counsellor does be telling one story after another, till you'd
think he'd no end of them. He began last night at supper,
and I could scarce change the plates for laugh in'."
Muttering some not very intelligible observation to himself,
Magennis passed down the stairs, and issuing into the street,
wended his way to the barber's.
If the Oughterard Figaro had not as brilliant a vocation as
his colleague of Seville, his •ccupations were scarcely less
multifarious, for he kept the post-office, was clerk at petty
sessions, collected the parish cess, presided over " the pound,"
besides a vast number of inferior duties. Whether it was the
result of a natural gift, or by the various infoi'mation of his
ofBcial life, Hosey Lynch was regarded in his native town as a
remarkably shrewd man, and a good opinion on a number of
subjects.
He was a short, decrepid old fellow, with an enormous head
of curly black hair, which he seemed to cultivate with all the
address of his craft; pi'obably intending it as a kind of adver-
tisement of his skill, displaying as it did all the resources of
his handiwork. But even above this passion was his ai'dour
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 Magen-
nis now disposed, waiting for Mr. Lynch, who had just stepped
down to " the pound," to liberate the priest's pig. Nor had he
long to wait, for Hosey soon made his appearance, and slipping
on a very greasy-looking jean-jacket, proceeded to serve him.
"The top of the morning to you, Captain" — he always styled
'^
"a CUALLE^Gi;." 177
him by the title — "it's a raro pleasure to see you so earl}' in
town; but it will be a bad market to-day — cut and curled,
Captain?"
" No ; shaved ! " said Magenuis, bluntly.
"And shaved you shall be, Caj^tain — and beautifully shaved,
too, for I have got an excellent case from Lamprey's; they
came yesterday — came with the writ against Jones Creegan."
"At whose suit?"
" Mrs. Miles Creegan, the other brother's widow," said Hosey,
lathering away and talking* with breathless rapidity. '" There
Avas a clause in old Sam's will, that if ever Tom, the chap that
died at Demcrara — 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 Mageuuis."
" Is he in command of the detachment ? "
"He is in his Majesty's — 1st Foot — the 'Buccaneers,' they
used to be called; 1 suppose you never heard why ? "
"No, nor doia't want to hear. What kind of a man is the
major?"
" He's a smart, well-made man, with rather a haught}' louk,"
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 five-
pence 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 whis-
pered communication from that lady, after which he shut the
panel, and resumed his functions. "She's at law with O'Reilly
about the party wall. There's the mnjor 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.
lu 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 g*uess what he's here for."
"What is it?" cried Magennis, eagerly.
"There's an election coming on, and the Martins expect a
contest. — Nothing for you, Peter," said he to an applicant for a
letter outside. "He's looking to be made barony constable
these four years, and he's as much chance as I have of being —
what shall I say "
"Are you done?" asked Magennis, impatiently.
lo
1/8 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
*' One minute more, sir — the least touch round the cliin
•—and, as I was saying, CaiDtain, the Martins will lose the
borough."
"Who thinks so besides you?" asked Magennis, g'ruflly.
"It is, I may sa}% the general opinion; the notion current
in There's Miss Martin, herself," cried he, running to the
window. " Well, really, she handles them ponies elegant !"
" Does she come often into town?"
" I don't think I saw her in Oughterard — let me sec when it
was — it's two years — no, but it's not far off — it's more
than "
" Are you done?" said Magennis, impatiently. "I told you
that I was pressed for time this morning."
" You're finished now. Captain," said Hosey, presenting him
with a small cracked looking-glass. "That's what I call a neat
chin and a beautiful sweep of whisker. Thank you, Captain.
It's a pleasure and an honour — not to say that it's "
Magennis did not wait for the peroration, but, striding
hastily out of the little shop, issued into the street that led to
the inn. On arriving there, he heard that Mr. Repton had
gone out, leaving word that he would be found at Major
Froode's quarters. Thither Magennis now repaired, with all
the solemn importance befitting- his mission.
As he sent in his name, he could overhear the short colloqny
that passed within, and perceive that Repton was about to
retire ; and now the servant ushered him into the presence of a
smart, light-whiskered little man, with a pair of shrewd grey
eyes, and a high forehead.
"A brother officer, I perceive, sir," said he, looking at the
card, whereupon the title Captain was inscribed ; " pray tike a
chair."
"You anticipate the reason of this visit. Major Froode," said
the other, with some degree of constraint, as though the pre-
liminaries were the reverse of pleasant to him. The major
bowed, and Magennis went on : "I suppose, then, I'm to trtat
with you as the friend of Mr. Valentine Repton ? "
" And you are Mr. Massingbred's ? " said the major, answering
the question with another.
"I have that honour, sir," said Magennis, pompously; "and
now, sir, how soon can it come off?"
"Don't you imagine. Captain Magennis, that a little qniefc
discussion of the question at issue between two old soldiers, like
yon and myself, might possibly be advisable? Is there not u
"a challexge." 179
chance that our united experience might not suggest an ami-
cable ai-rangement of this business?"
" Quite out of the question — utterly, totally impossible ! " said
Magenuis, sternly.
"Then perhaps I lie under some misconception," said the
major, courteously.
'■ There was a blow, sir ! — a blow ! " said Magennis, in the
same stei'n tone.
" I opine that everything that occurred was jiurely accidental
— just hear me out — that a hasty word and a hurried gesture,
complicated with the impatient movement of a horse "
A long whistle from Magennis interrupted the speech, and
the major, reddening to the very top of his high forehead,
said :
" Sir, this is unbecoming — are you aware of it ? "
" I'm quite ready for anything when this is settled," said
Magennis, but Avith less composure than he desired to assume.
"What I meant was, that, for a blow there is but one re-
paration."
"Doubtless, if the injury admit of no explanation," said the
major, calmly ; " but in that lies the whole question. Consider
two things. Captain Magennis: first of all, the equivocal
appearance of your friend, the age and standing of mine."
" By Jove ! you'll kill me in trying to save my life," said
Repton, bursting into the room, " I didn't want to play eaves-
dropper, Froode, but these thin partitions are only scundboards
for the voice. This gentleman," added he, turning to Magennis,
" is perfectly correct. There was a blow, and a blow has only
one consequence, and that one I'm ready for. There may be,
for aught I know, twenty ways of settling these matters in
London or at the clubs, but we're old-fashioned in our notions
in Ireland here ; and I don't think that even when we ijiek up
new fashions that we're i2uoh the bettei' 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 whenever I get into a scrape in Scotland you shall have it
all your own way. Eh, captain, isn't that fair ?"
" Spoke like a trump ! " muttered Magennis.
" For 7ne, did you say ? " said Repton, taking a letter from the
servant, who had just entered the room
" Yes, sir ; and the groom says there's an answer expected."
13—2
180 THE MARTIKS OF CRO MARllN.
"The devil take it, I've forgotten my spectacles. Froocle,
just tell me what's this about, ami who it comes from."
" It's Miss Martin's hand," said Froode, breaking the seal
and running over the contents. "Oh, I perceive," said he;
"they're afraid you have taken French leave of them at Cro'
Martin, and she has driven into town to carry you back again."
" That comes of my leaving word at the little post-office to
forward my letters to Dublin if not asked for to-morrow. Take
a pen, Froode, and write a couple of lines for me : say that a
very urgent call — a professional call — will detain me here to-
day, but that if not back by dinner-time — Captain Magennis
thinks it not likely," added he, turning towards him as he sat,
with a very equivocal expression, half grin, half sneer, upon his
features — " that I'll be with them at breakfast next morning,"
resumed Repton, boldly. "Make some excuse for my not
answering the note myself — whatever occurs to you. And so,
sir," said he, turning to Magennis, "your friend's name is
Massingbred ? Any relation to Colonel Moore Massingbred ? "
"His son — his only son, I believe."
"How strange! I remember the father in the 'House' — I
mean the Irish House — five-and-thirty years ago; he was
always on tlie government benches. It was of him Parsons
wrote those doggrel lines :
A man without a heart or head,
Whn seldom thought, -wlio never read,
A ■\vitty word wlio never said,
One at who:e board none ever fed.
Such is the Colonel M— g— b— d.
He couldn't call him a coward, though; for when they went
oat — which they did — Massingbred's manner on the ground
was admirable."
"Will that do?" said Froode, showing a few lines he had
hastily jotted down.
"I can't read a word of it, but of course it will," said he;
"and then, sir," added he, addressing Magennis, "the sooner
we place ourselves at your disposal the better."
Froode whispered something in Repton'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, ws're in
Gal way ; as Macleweed said once to a prisoner : ' With a York-
shire jury, sir, I'd hang you. Your sentence now is, to pay five
"a cuallexge." 181
marks to the king, and find bail for your good Lcliaviour.'
You see what vu'tue there is in localit3^"
" 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 mig-ht keep us in view."
"In what direction did j-ou say?"
"Take the second turn out of the market-place till you i:)ass
the baker's shop, then, to the left, and straight on afterwards.
You can't miss it."
" Stop a moment, sir," said Froode to Magennis, as he
moved towards the door; "one word, if you please. It is
distinctly understood that I have been overruled in this business
— that, in fact, I have submitted "
"Your point has been reserved," said Repton, laughing,
while he led him away; and Magennis at the same moment
took his departure.
It was, indeed, with no slight feeling of triumph that this
gentleman now hastened back to the Martin Arms. Never did
a great diplomatist experience more pride in the conclusion of
some crowning" act of negotiation than did he in the accomplish-
ment of this affair.
"There's many a man," said he to himself, "who'd have
accepted an apology here — there's many a man might have let
himself be embarrassed by the circumstances ; for, certainly,
the taking hold of the bridle was an awkward fact, and if the
major was a 'cute fellow he'd have made a stand upon it, I
iTiust say that the counsellor showed no backwardness; he
comes of that fine old stock we used to have before the Union."
And with this profound reflection he entered the room where
Massingbred sat awaiting him.
"It's all settled. We're to meet at the Priest's Gap within
an hour," said Magennis, with the air of a man who had
acquitted himself cleverly. "And though I say it, that
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 Massing-
bred, 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
182 THE MARTINS OF CRO' SIARTIN.
arrange a dispute which now promised a serious ending*.
"However," thought he, "we are not in the land where such
differences admit of amicable solution, and there's no help for
it."
A sharp tap at the door startled him from these musings,
and before he could well reply to it Daniel Nelligan entered the
room, and advanced towards him with an air of mingled ease
and constraint.
"I hope you'll forgive me, Mr. Massingbred," he began. "I
feel certain that you will at some future day at least, for what
I'm going to do." Here he stopped and drew a long breatli, as
if ■ not knowing in what terms to continue. Massingbred
handed him a chair, and took one in front of him without
speaking.
•' I know what brought you here to-day — I am aware of it
all."
He paused, and waited for the other to speak ; but Massing-
bred sat without offering a word, and evidently relying on his
own social tact to confound and embarrass his visitor.
" I know, sir, that you are likely to regard my interference
as impertinent," resumed Nelligan; "but I trust that the friend
of my son, Joe "
" I must set you right, upon one point at least, Mr. Nelligan,"
said Massingbred, with an easy smile. " If you be only as
accurate in your knowledge of my affairs as you are with
respect to my private friendships, this visit has certainly jDro-
ceeded from some misconception. Your son and I were friends
once upon a time. We are so no longer ! "
"I never heard of this. I never knew you had quarrelled!"
" We have not, sir. We have not even met. The dis-
courtesy 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. Nelligan," began Massingbred, in his most
seductive of manners, — but the other had already w'tnes'^ed the
rupture of the only tie which bound them — the supposed fi'icnd-
"a challenge.*' 183
ship between Joe and Massingbred — and cared nothing for all
the blandishments he could bestow, — " my dear Mr. Nelligan,
you cannot, surely, suppose that a mere stranger as I am in
your county — scarcely ten days here — should have been un-
fortunate enough to have incurred the animosity of any one."
" I hold here a statement, sir," said Nelligan, sternly, "wliich,
if you please to pledge your honour to be incorrect "
"And this is Gahvay!" exclaimed Massingbred — "this
glorious land of chivah'ous sentiment of which we poor
Englishmen have been hearing 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 are a few left would like to teach you that its
character was not acquired for nothing."
""Well, well!" sighed Jack, as he closed his eyes, and
appcai-ed as if indulging in a reverie, " of all the mockeries I
have lived to see unmasked, this is the worst and meanest."
" I have not come here to listen to this, sir," said Nelligan,
haughtily, as he arose, "I waited upon you, intending to
accept your solemn pledge, by word of honour, to commit no
act hostile to the public peace. Now, sir, I shall call upon you
to give me the legal guarantee for this security — good and
sufficient bail, and that within an hour ! "
"My dear Mr. Nelligan," replied Massingbred, with all the
quiet ease of an unruffled temper, " I have not a single friend
here, except yourself, upon whom I could call in such an
emergency. I am utterly unknown in these parts — my very
name unheard of before my arrival. If I did by any unhappy
circumstance find myself in such an involvement as you speak
of, I solemnly assure you my first thought would be to address
myself to Mr. Nelligan."
The easy impertinence of this speech would have been per-
fectly 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," re-
peated 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
ISi THE JlAllTIXS OF CRO' JIAUTIN.
nv^, but perhaps you woukl, as a favour, tell me how this
information has reached you?"
"I will not, sir," was the abrupt reply.
"I'm sui'e no friend of mine could have "
" It's no use, Mr. Massingbred ; all j^our address will avail
you nothing. You shall not cross-examine me.'"
"You must, however, see, sir," said Massingbred, "that un-
known and unfriended as I am here, bail is out of the question."
"The Bench will hear anything joi\ desire to sa}^ on that
subject," said Nelligan, coldly. " Good morning to you." And
with these words he left the room, and descended into the
street.
The passioTiate warmth which Massingbred had so success-
fully controlled in the presence of his visitor burst forth the
first moment he found himself alone. He inveighed against
the country, the people, their habits, and all belonging to them;
cursed his own fate at being' ever thrown into such companion-
ship ; and wound up by resolving 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 presented him with a
very dirty-looking note, fastened by two wafers, and inscribed
"Most private." Massingbred opened it and read:
" My dear Mr. M.,
" We're found out — I believe by Hosey Lynch, where I drop-
ped a bullet-mould this morning when he was shaving me. At
all events, we're blown, and as I am under 250Z. 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. ]\Iean-
whilc, there's nothing for it but to give your bail and satisfy Iho
lilackguards — bad luck to them — that spoiled the sport! You
can go back to the house when all's over, and I'll return as
soon as it is safe for
"Your sincere friend,
"T. M."
Scarcely had he finished reading this epistle, when Major
Froode presented himself in his chamber, the door of which
the waiter was yet holding ajar. Having introduced himself,
he briefly informed Massingbred of his position as Mr. Repton'a
friend, and as briefly stated that the counsellor had been obliged
A CIIALI.tlNGE." 1S5
to pledge liimself against any liositle intentions — a step wl.icli,
lie foresa\y, would also be requii-cd of him. '"For this reason I
have come," continued he, " to so j, that any assistance I can be
of to j'ou, is frankly at your service. I hare learned that you
are a stranger here, and not likely to have many acquaint-
ances."
" If they would be satisfied with my v/ord," began Jack.
"Of course they will, and shall," interrupted Froode; "and
now, what is there in the way of amende my friend can make,
for what he is prepared to confess was a mere accident?"
" The acknowledgment is ample. I ask for nothing beyond
ir," said Massingbred, "I am not quite certain but that my
own conduct might require a little explanation; but as your
friend's vigour put matters be_yond negotiation, at the time,
we'll not go back upon bj'-gones."
"And now, sir," burst in B/epton, who had waited outside the
door — " and now, sir, I beg you to accept the humblest apology
I can tender for what has happened. I'm not as safe on my
saddle as I used to be forty years ago; and when the nag-
reared and threatened to fall back upon me, I am ashamed to
own that I neither saw nor cared what I struck at. I'd have
said all this to j-ou, 'Mv. Massingbred, 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?"
"With sincere pleasure," said Jack, shaking him warmly
and cordially with both his own.
"There's but one thing more to be done," said Repton.
"These borough magistrates, vulgar dogs as the}' 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 bo charmed to know you, and the
place is worth seeing. Come, you musLn't leave the West, with
only its barbarism in your memory. You must carry away
some other recollections."
The new turn afi'airs had just taken was by no means distaste-
ful to Massingbred. It promised another scene in that drama
of life he loved to fashion for himself, with new scenery, new
actors, and new incidents. "The counsellor," too, struck his
fancy; there was a raciness in the old man's manner, a genial
cordiality, united with such palpable acuteness, that he promised
186 TIIE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN'-
himself mucli pleasure in his society, and so he accepted the
proposal with all willingness, and pledged to hold himself ready
for his friend within an hour.
Repton and the major had but just left the room, Avhen the
former re-entered it hurriedly, and said, "By the way, I mnst
leave you to your own guidance to find your road to Cro'
Martin, for there's a young lady below stairs has a lien upon
me. You shall be presented to her when you come out, and I
promise you it will repay the journey."
" This must be the Mary Martin I've been hearing of,"
thought Massingbred, when again alone; "and so the morn-
ing's work will probably turn out better than I had anticipated."
A COUNTEY-HOUSfi. 187
Ca^ AFTER xvir.
I COUNTRY-HOCSE.
When Massingbred arrived at Cro' Martin, he found Repton
at the door awaiting him. " I find," said he, " there is little
need of introducing you here. Your lather was au old acquaint-
ance of Martin's ; they sat together for years in Parliament,
and Lady Dorothea was related to your family. But here he
comes." And Martin approached, with his hand extended in
cordial welcome. No one ever knew better how to do the
honours of his house, nor could throw more graceful courtesy
into the first steps of acquaintanceship. Massingbred, too, was
well calculated to appreciate this gift; he had a most intense
esteem for "manner," and enjoyed even the necessity it im-
posed upon himself of exertion to please. With sincere satis-
faction was it that he accepted an invitation to pass some days
there, and at once despatched a servant to Magennis's house for
his trunks.
The adventure of the morning was alluded to but once, and
then in a jocular strain, as an incident of no moment whatever,
and Massingbi'ed retired to his room to dress for dinner, wonder-
ing' 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 isola-
tion in which they lived was rarely broken by a visitor, and
when, by rare accident, some solitary stranger did present
himself with a letter of introduction, his stay was merely of a
few hours. Now, however, the company included, in addition
to the family, Repton, Massingbred, and Nelligan, besides Miss
Henderson, who was on that day to appear at dinner. The
quondam college friends had not met, neither had Miss Martin
188 THE MARTIK3 Oi' CllO' MAnTIH,
ever seen her g-overness ; so that tliere was no small do'Tree of
anticipation as to how such elements would harmonise and
ag'ree.
Yfhen Massingbred entered the drawing-room, he found Miss
Henderson there alone, and at once believing she could be no
other than Miss Martin, he proceeded to introduce himself in
the best manner he could. Her reception was perfect in ease
and self-possession, and they soon found themselves engaged in
a lively discussion as to the scenery, the people, and their
habits, of which they both appeared to have a very similar
appreciation. Lady Dorothea next made her appearance, and
advancing towards Massingbred, welcomed him with what, for
her, was the extreme of cordiality. " Tour mother was a
Caradoc, Mr. ilassingbred, and the Cai'adocs 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 success-
ful in her captivations, that she never exercised them without a
I'eal desire to please; so that Massingbred soon saw how in the
v/ilds 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 Vv'as Massingbred himself less pleasing to hei\ It was
so long — so many, many years since she had met with one fresh
from that great world which alone she valued !
Correspondence had kept her to a certain extent informed
upon the changes and vicissitudes of society — the bii-ths, deaths,
marriages, separations, quarrels, and other disasters of those
dear friends for whose griefs, absence and time offer so many
consolations ! But then, the actual appearance, the coitp d'aul of
that world could only be imparted by an observer, imbued with
all the spirit that gives observation its peculiar piquancy.
This, she found in liira, and so agreeably exercised was it, that
she actually heard dinner announced without attending, and
only as she ai'ose from her seat was reminded to present him to
J\[iss Martin, by the brief phrase : " My niece — LL-. Massing-
bred ;" while she took his arm, with a glance at Mr. Repton,
that plainly said — " You are deposed."
The passage to the dinner- room lay through three spacious
and splendid rooms, which now were brilliantly lighted up, and
lined with servants in rich liveries, a degree of state Massing-
bred was not a little pleased at, partly suspecting that it was
intended to do himself honour. As they moved slowly through
'-0/^'
VJ
\
A COUNTUY-HOUSE. 189
the last of tliese, the door suddenly opened, and youno*
Nelligau entered. He had returned late from a long- ride, and
heard nothing- whatever of Massingbred's arrival. With an
exclamation of "Jack! — Massingbred ! " he bounded forward;
but the other showed no recognition of him, and directing-
Lady Dorothea's attention to the richness of a picture-frame,
passed calmly on into the dinnei'-room.
" You must bring up the rear alone, Nclligan," said
Martin, who had given his arm to Miss Henderson ; and
Joe followed, almost overwhelmed with mingled shame and
amazement.
For an instant the possibility of mistake assuaged his sense
of mortification, but no sooner did he find himself at table, and
directly opposite to Massingbred, than he perceived there was
no ground whatever for this consolation. It was indeed
Massingbi'ed, 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.
What a terrible vengeance for all the superiority J^elligan
had displayed over him in the Examination Hall was Massing-
bred's present success, for success it was. With all that con-
summate readiness the habit of society imparts. Jack could talk
well on a great variety of topics, and possessed besides that
especial tact to make others so far participators in his observa-
tions, that they felt a partnership in the agreeability. Lady
Doi'othea was perfectly charmed with liim ; it was the triumph,
as it were, of one of her own set. His anecdotes — not very
pointed or curious in themselves — had the marked characteristic
of always referring to distinguished individuals, so that what
was deficient in wit was more than compensated by the rank of
the actors. Martin enjoyed his conversation with all his own
complacent ease, and felt delighted with one who could play all
the game without an adversary. Mary was pleased and
astonished together — the pleasure being even less than the
amazement — at all he seemed to know of life and the world,
and how intimately one so young seemed to have mixed in
society. As for Rcpton, he relished the other's powers with the
true zest of a pleasant talker; they were of different styles,
and no disagi'eeable rivalry mai'red the ajipreciation.
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 raeetingf the
190 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
other's look; lie dreaded he knew not what of impertinence or
insult, to which the time and place could offer no reparation;
but gradually he grew to perceive that Massingbred's cold eye
met his own, without a spark of meaning, nor was there in
voice, manner, or bearing, a single evidence of constraint or
awkwardness to be detected.
Miss Henderson alone seemed to listen to him with easy
indifference ; and more than once, when Jack put forth his
most showy pretensions, he was secretly mortified to see how
little impression he had made on the dark beauty with the
haughty smile. This was exactly the kind of defiance that
Massingbred never declined, and he determined within himself
to attempt the conquest. As the party returned to the drawing-
room he asked Lady Dorothea to present him more formally to
the young lady, whose acquaintance he had dared to obtrude
ujDon before dinner, but she coldly said :
" Oh ! it's no matter, she's only the governess." An ex-
planation 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 France was accomplished in a year or two."
" With the aid of the guillotine and the ' lanterne,' " said
Jack, smiling.
" Just so ; they used sharp reznedies for a quick cure. But I
own to you that I have not j^et reconciled myself, nor do I see
how I shall ever reconcile myself, to intimacy with a class not
only whose habits and instincts, but whose very natures are
adverse to our own. That young man now, for instance, they
speak of him as quite a college wonder. I'm ashamed to say I
don't know wherein his great successes lie; but they tell me
that he has distanced every competitor of his day, and stands
alone in his pre-eminence, and yet we saw him to-day not
venturing on a remark, nor even hazarding an opinion on the
topics we talked of, and silent where he ought to have been
heard with advantage."
"Is he bashful?" said Jack, with a lazy drawl.
"I don't think it's that; at least not altogether."
" Supercilious, perhaps ? "
" Oh ! certainly not," replied she, hastily. " The company In
A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 101
which he found himself is the best answer to that. He could
not presume "
" It ^Yas, 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 jjuzzled 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 3'oung man's father is the chief of them." And now Lady
Dorothea turned from the topic as one unworthy of furtlier
thought, and entered ujoon the more congenial theme of her own
high 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 with him, which
years of mere acquaintanceship could not have effected. That
his grand-aunt had been a Conway, and his great-grandfather's
half-brother was married to a Jernyngham, were all a sj^ecies of
Freemasonry by which he was admitted at once to the privilege
of confidential discussion.
It was no small mortification to Massingbred to spend his
evening in these genealogical researches; he had seen the two
young girls move off into an adjoining room, from which at
times the sounds of a piano, and of voices singing, issued, and
was half mad with impatience to be along with them. How-
ever, it was a penalty must be exacted, and he thought that the
toll once paid he had secured himself against all demands for
the future.
Not caring to participate in the many intricacies of those
family discussions wherein the degrees of relationship of in-
dividuals seem to form the sole points of interest, we shall
betake ourselves to the little blue draAving-room, where, seated
at the piano together, the two young girls talked, while their
fingers strayed along the notes as though affording a species of
involuntary accompaniment to their words. Nelligan, it is
true, was present ; but, unnoticed by either, he sat apart in a
distant corner, deep in his own brooding thoughts.
I^Iary had only made Miss Henderson's acquaintance on that
evening, but already they were intimate. It was, indeed, no
common boon for her to obtain companionship with one of her
own age, and who, with the dreaded characteristics of a
governess, was in reality a very charming and attractive
192 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
person. Miss Henderson sang- with all the cultivated know-
ledge of a mnsician ; and, while she spoke of foreign countries
where she had travelled, lapsed at times into little snatches of
melody, as it were, illnstrative of what she spoke. The delight
Mary experienced in listening was unbounded ; and if at
moments a sad sense of her own neglected education shot
through her mind, it was forgotten the next instant in her
generoiis admiration.
"And how are >jou, who have seen this bright and brilliant
world yon 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 hojic for more than a passing glance at splendours wherein
T was not to share. And as for the quiet monotony here, an
evening such as this, companionship like yours, are just as much
above my expectations.**
"Oh, no, no!" cried Maiy, eagerly. "Ton were as surely
destined for a salon, as I was for the rude adventures of my own
wayward life. You don't know what a strange existence it is."
"I have heard, however! " said the other calmly.
" Tell me — do tell me — what you have been told of me, and
don't be afraid of wounding my vanity; for, I pledge you my
word, I do tiiinkn^ 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 his succour — one by whose kind intervention he
earns his daily bread; their children love you as their own
chosen protector."
"But it's not of these things Tm speaking," said Mary,
rajwdly. "Do they not call mo self-willed, passionate, some-
times imperious?"
" Yes ; and capricious at times ! " said the other, slowly.
Mary coloured, and her voice faltered as she said :
"There, they were unjust. The impracticable tempers T
have to deal with — the untutored minds and undisciplined
natures — often lead me into seeming contradictions."
"Like the present, perhaps," said Miss Henderson.
" How ! the present ? " cried Mar}'.
"That, while claiming the merit of humility, you at once
enter upon a self-defence."
A COUXTRT-HOUSE. 193
*'Wel], perlmps T am capi-icious! " said Mary, smiling-.
"And haugiity ?" asked tlie other, slowly.
"I believe so!" said Mary, with a degi'ee of dignity that
seemed to display the sentiment ^Yhile confessing to if.
"I have never lieard a heavier accusation against Miss
Martin than these," said she, "and I have lived with those
■who rarely scruple how to criticise their betters."
Mai-y was silent and thoughtful : she knew not how to in-
terpret 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 — T believe even a year later — I
was the playfellow of the 3'oung gentleman you see yonder,"
said Kate Henderson, " but who, to-night, seems incapable of
remembering anything or anybody."
"Of Mr. Nelligan?" repeated Mary. And Joseph started as
he heard his name, looked up, and again relapsed into reverie.
"I'm not sure that we were not in love. I almost confess
that I Avas, when my father sent me away to France to be
educated. I was very sad — very, very sad — at being taken
away from home and thrown amongst strangers, with none of
whom I could even interchange a word; and I used to sit and
cry for hours by myself, and write sorrowful love-letters to
"dearest Joseph," and then imagine the answers to them;
sometimes I actually wrote them, and would suffer agonies of
anguish before I dared to break the seal and learn the contents.
Meanwhile, I was acquiring a knowledge of French, and knew
a little of music, and used to sing in our choir at chapel, and
learned to believe the world was somewhat larger than I had
hitherto thought it, and that St. Gudule was finer than the
mean little church at Oughterard ; and worse still — for it was
worse — that the sous-lieutenants and cadets of the Military
College had a much more dashing, daring look about them
than "poor Joseph;" for so I now called him to myself, and
gave up the correspondence soon after.
"Remember, Miss Martin, that I was but a child at this
time — at least, I was little more than fourteen — but in another
year I was a woman, in all the consciousness of certain attrac-
tions, clever enough to know that I could read and detect the
weak points in others, and weak enough to fancy that I could
always take advantage of them. This incessant spirit of casu-
istrv, this passion for investigating the temper of those about
14,
194 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MAr^TIN.
yoa, and making a study of tlieir natures for purposes of your
own, is the essence of a convent life; you have really little else
to do, and your whole bent is to ascertain why Sister Agne3
blushes, or why Beatrice fainted twice at the Angelus. The
minute anatomy of emotions is a very dangerous topic. At
this very moment I cannot free myself from the old habit ; and
as I see young Mr. Nelligan there sitting with his head in his
hand, so deep in thought as not to notice us, I begin to examine
why is it he is thus, and on what is he now brooding?"
"And can you guess?" asked Mary, half eagerl3^
" I could be certain, if I were but to ask him a question or
tsvo."
"Pray do, then, if only to convince me of your skill."
" But I must be alone, and that is scarcely possible — scarcely
becoming."
" Let us contrive some way — think of something."
*' It is too late now ; he is about to leave the room," said
Kate, cautiously. " How pale he looks, and how anxious his
eye has become. I thought at first there was some constraint
at meeting me here ; he feared, perhaps, — but no, that would be
unworthy of him."
She ceased, for Nelligan had now drawn nigh to where they
sat, and stood as if trying to collect himself to say something.
" Do you sing, Mr. Nelligan?" asked Kate.
"No; I am ignorant of music," said he, half abstractedly.
" But you like it ? " asked Mary.
" Yes, I believe I do — that is, it calms and quiets me. If I
could understand it, it would do more."
"Then why not understand it, since that is the way you
phi-aso it ? " asked Kate. " Everybody can be a musician to a
certain degree of proficiency. There is no more ear required
than you want to learn a language."
" Then you shall teach 7)ie," cried iMar}', eagerly.
Kate took up her hand and pressed it to her lips for a reply.
" Foreigners — men, I mean — arc 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 ia England
must always tend to material profit. We learn this, that, and
t'other, to be richer, or greater, or higher, but never to be more
acceptable in society — more agreeable or pleasanter company."
"We haven't time," said Nelligan, gravely,
"For what have we not time? Do you mean we have no
A C0UXTRT-II0US3. 195
time to be happy?" cried Replon, suddenlv' stepping in amongst
them. "ISow, my dear young hadies, wliiuh of you wiii bid
highest for the heart of au old lawyer — by a song?"
" It must be Miss Henderson," said Mary, smiling, " for I
don't sing."
" Not a ballad ? — not even one of the Melodies ? "
" Not even one of the Melodies," said she, sorrowfully.
" Shame upon me for that ' even,' " said Hepton ; " but yon
see what comes of surviving one's generation. I lived in an
age when the 'Last Rose of Sunimei',' 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 Eu^'ish 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 otir education
to Greek and Roman literature, that our ladies should only sing'
to us in the languages of Italy or Germany."
" I hope you would not imj^ly that we are as little versed in
these as great scholars are in the others?" said Kate Hender-
son, slily.
" Sharply said, Miss, and truthfully insinuated too ! Not to
mention that there is courage in such a speech before Mr.
Kclligan, here."
"Yes — very true — a just remark!" said Joseph, who only
overheard a reference to himself without understanding- to
what it alluded. And now a very joyous burst of laughter
fi'ora the others startled him, v/hile it covered him with con-
fusion.
"We must make them sing-, Nelligan," said Repton, gaily.
*' They'll vanquish us in these tilting matches of word-fence. —
Now, Miss Henderson, something very plaintive and very senti-
mental, to suit the tenderness of a feeling heart."
"I'll sing for you with pleasure," said Kate. "Will this
suit you?" And with a short prelude she sang one of those
brilliant little snatches of Venetian melody, which seem like
the outburst of a sudden inspiration — wild, joyous, floating as
they are — wherein such is the expression, that sounds usurp the
place of language, and the mind is carried away by a dreamy
fascination impossible to resist.
" How often have I heard that on the Lido ! " said Massing-
bred, entering the room hastilj'; "and what a glorious thing
it is!"
"Then yon know this?" said Kate, running her fingers over
196 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
the notes, and wavbliug- out another of the popular airs of the
same class.
" The last time I tieard that," said Jack, musingly, " was one
night when returning dome from a late party, along the Grand
Canal at Venice. Ther^ is a single word at the end of each
verse which should oe uttei'ed by a second voice. Just as I
passed beneath a brilliantly-lighted salon, the sounds of this
melody came floating forth, and as the stanza finished I supplied
the ' refrain.' "
" You ? " cried Kate, eagerly.
"Yes; but why do you ask?"
"Do you remember the exact spot?" said she, not heedin»
his question.
"As well as thoug-li I were there only yesterda)'."
" 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 witchci'aft," 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 eagerl}^ ;
" 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 Coui'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 intelli-
gence, 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 freemasomy is the use
of a foreign language, lifting the speakers out of the ordinary
topics, and leading them away to distant scenes and impressions,
whicli, constituting a little world apart, give a degree of confi-
dential 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 embarrass-
ment it would occasion, and under jiretext of searching for some
music, escaped at once from the spot.
A COUNTRY-HOUSE. 197
"How I envy you, dear givl," said Mary, following her, and
passing her arm affectionately around her. "What a liappincss
must it be to jjossess such gifts as yours, which, even in tlieir
careless exercise, are so graceful. Tell me frankly, is it too
late for me to try "
" You overrate me as much as you dis2:)ai'age yourself," said
Kate, mildly; "but if you really will accept me, I will teach
3'ou the little that I know, but, in return, will you make me
your friend ?"
IMiiry pressed the other's hand warmly within her own.
" Here are some vows of everlasting- friendship going forwai^d,
I'll be sworn," said old Repton, stepping in between them;
" and you ought to have a legal opinion as to the clauses — eh,
young ladies, am I not right ? "
"When was Mr. Repton wrong?" said Mary, laughing.
" "\Yiien he waited till his present age to fall in love ! " said
he, gaily. " Bat, seriously, what have you done with our j-ouno-
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 j-ourself that you did not shoot
him this morning?" said Mary, laughing.
" I am sincerely gratified that he has not shot vie, which,
taking his pistol performance on the same level with his other
acquirements, was not so very improbable ! "
"There's your uncle stealing away to bed," said Repton,
"and fancying that nobody remarks him. Shall I be cruel
enough to mar the project? Martin — Martin — come here for a
moment ; we want your opinion on a knotty point."
"I know what it is," said Martin, smiling; "the question
under discussion is, ' Whether j-ou or Mr. Massingbred were the
more successful to-day ? ' "
" I think Mr. Massingbred may claim the prize," said Mary
Martin, with a sly whisper ; " he made Lady Dorothea cry."
"Ay," said Repton, " but I made young Nelligan laugh ! "
And now the party broke up, Massingbred lingering a little
behind to say something to Miss Henderson, and then betaking
himself to his chamber, 'veil satisfied with his day, and the
198 THE JIARTIXS OF CRO' MAllTIN.
c'hano'e it had wrought in his fortunes. Perhaps a few passages
from a letter that he, on that same night, penned to one of his
friends in Dublin, will not be ill-timed as an exponent of his
sentiments. The letter was written, directing certain articles
of dress to be forwarded to him at once, bj coach, and contained
these paragraphs :
"You now know how I came hei'e: the next thing is to tell
you of the place itself The house is large and admirably
'montee' — abundance of servants, well drilled, and orderly.
The master a nonentity, apparently; easy-tempered and g-ood-
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 genealogies and ' connec-
tions,' and what many would 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 further or
harsher criticism. As for the niece, she is decided!}'- handsome;
a gTeat deal of style about her too; with a degree of — shall I
call it daring? for it is more like courage than any other
quality — tliat tells you she is the uncontrolled ruler over the
wild regions and wild people around hei'. With more of man-
ner, she would be very chai'ming; 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 com-
pleted my catalogue, if it were not for the governess. Ay,
Harry, the governess! And just fancy, under this unimposing
title, a dark-eyed, haughty-looking girl — I don't think she can
be above twenty or twenty-one — with a carriage and port that
mio'ht suit an Archduchess of Austria. She has travelled all
over Europe — been everywhere — seen everything, and stranger
a"-ain, everybody ; for she was what they style a companion.
By Jove! she must have been a very charming one; that is, if
she liked it; for if she did not, Hal! At all events, here
she is; only having arrived the vcr}- day before myself; so that
we arc free to discuss the fiimily, and compare notes together,
in the most confidential fashion.
"Of course I needn't tell >ion Jack jNTassingbred does not fall
in love — the very phrase implies it must 1x3 beneath one — but I
already see that if such a girl were a Lady Catherine, or a
liady Agnes, with a father in the Upper House, and two
A COL'XTRY-norSE. 109
brothers ^n tlic 'Lower/ her dowry anything you like ahore
thirty thousand — that, in short, even Jack himself mig-lit
exhibit the weakness of inferior mortals — for she is precisely
one of those types that are ever looking upward — a girl with a
high ambition, I'll be sworn, and formed to make the man,
whose fortunes she shared, stand forward in the van and dis-
tinguish himself
"These are our whole dramatis persona; , if I include an old
barrister, with a racy humour and a strong stock of Bar
anecdotes; and young- Nelligan, the Medal man, whom you
quizzed me so much for noticing in Dublin, Ton were ricrht
then, Harry; he is a low fellow, and I was wrong in ever
thinking him otherwise. I chanced upon his father's acquaint-
ance rather oddly; and the son has not forgiven it. When
we met here, yesterday, he fancied that we were to speak, and
was actually rushing forward to shake hands with the most
enthusiastic warmth ; but with that manner which you have
often admii'ed, and once encouraged, when you called me the
* Cool' of the day,' I pulled him up dead short, stared, and passed
on. At dinner, I managed to ignore him so utterly that every-
body else fell into the trap, and he dined as a tutor, or the
chaplain, or the agent's son mig'ht — mingling his sighs with
the soup, and sipping his claret in all dreariness.
"You will see, even from these hasty lines, that there is
enough here to interest and amuse; food for observation, and
opportunity for malice. What can a man want more? The
'joint and the pickles.' They have asked me to stay, — they
have even entreated ; and so I mean to pass a week — perhaps
two-^here. I conclude that will give me enough of it : how-
ever, you shall hear frequently of my res gestae, and learn ail
that befals
" Jack Massixgdred.
a . , . . ■\Yiign you pass that way, pray see what letters there
may be lying for me in my chambers. If any of my father's —
he writes in a large splashy hand — and the seal, two maces,
saltierwise — forward them here. I am, or I shall soon be, in
want of money; and as I have overdrawn my allowance
already, I shall be obliged to issue bonds, bearing a certain
interest. Can you recommend me to a safe capitalist? — not
Ford3-ce — nor Henniker — nor yet Sloan — with all of whom I
have held dealings, mutually disagreeable. It is a sad reflection,
that the stamp worth five shillings upon a piece of unsullied
200 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
paper, is absolutely valueless when the •words ' Jack Massing-
bred' are inscribed beneath. Try, and, if you can, solve this
curious problem.
"At all events, write to me here: supply me freely with
news, for I am supposed to be acquainted with all that goes on,
socially and politically, and I shall be driven to imagiuatiou if
you do uot store me with fact."
glAIECIUFT. 201
CHAPTER XVIiX,
STATECRAFT.
I'f was a cabinet conucil ; they were met in Lady Dorot?iea'3
boudoii", Martin and Mr. Repton being- summoned to her pres-
ence. A letter had that morning reached her ladyship from a
very high quarter; the writer was tlie Marquis of Reckington,
a very distant connection, who had suddenly been graciously
pleased, after a long interval of utter obliviousness, to remember
that Lady Dorothea was his relative, and yet living! Whatever
pride her ladyship might have summoned to her aid to repel
the slights or impertinences of the vulgar, she displayed a
most Christian forgiveness as she broke the seal of an epistle
from one who had left several of her own without answers, and
even replied to her application for a staff appointment for her
son, by a cold assurance that these were times when " nothing
but fitness and superior qualifications entitled any man to ad-
vancement 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 government, is there any more conspicuous
than the uneriing certainty with which men of ability rise to
eminence without other aid than their own powers; and that, in
a sj'stem like ours, family iufiuence, wealth, name, coiniections,
and Parliamentai'y 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 g'reat friend — mine is a Coroner — to
make him a Junior Lord, or a Vice-Something, and see what
the answer will be. Polite, certainly; nothing more so; but
what a rebuke to self-seeking ! — what a stern chastisement to
202 THE MAirriNS of cro' martin,
the ignorant presumption that places are awarded by means of
favour, or that the public service is ever filled through the
channels of private influence ! Far from it. He is told that
cur age is an incorruptible one, that Ministers jiass sleepless
nights in balancing the claims of treasury clerks, and that Lord
Chancellors suffer agonies in weighing the merits of barristers
of six years' standing. " We have but one rule for our guid-
ance : the best man in the best place." A high-sounding maxim,
•which it would be excessively uncivil to disparage by asking
what constitutes " a best man." Is he some unscrapulous
partisan, who first g'ave his fortune, and afterwards his fame, to
the support of a party? Is he the indisputable disposer of
thi-ee, or perhaps foui", votes in the House ? Is he a floating
buoy to be anchored in either roadstead of politics, and only to
be secured to either, for a consideration ? Is he the dangerous
confidant of some damaging transaction? Or is he the deserter
from a camp, where his treason may sow disaffection ? These
several qualifications have ere this served to make up " a best
man;" and, strangely enough, are gifts which fit him for the
Array, 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 j^fii'ts of Lord Recking-
ton's letter. It was somewhat difBcult to decipher, as most
great men's lettei'S 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 Avriting 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, ray dear Dora, I had done with it all. I
flattered myself that I had served my time in public capacities,
and that neither the Crown nor its advisei's could reasonably
call upon me for further sacrifices. You know how little to my
taste were either the cares or ambitions of office. In fact, as
happens to most men who are zealous for the public service, my
official cai'ecr imposed far more of sacrifices than it conferred
privilege.s. Witness the occasions iu which I was driven to
STATECHAFT. 203
reject the claims of my nearest and dearest friends, in com-
pliance with that nervous terror of imputed favouritism so
fatal to all in power! I thought, as I have said, that they had
no fair claim upon me any longer, I asked nothing ; indeed,
many thought I was wrong there. But so it was, I quitted
office without a pension, and without a ribbon ! It was late on
a Saturday evening, however, when a Cabinet messenger arrived
at 'Beech Woods' with an order for me to repair at once to
Windsor. I was far from well ; but there was no escaj^e.
Immediately on arriving I was summoned to the presence, and
before I had paid my respects, his Majesty, who was much
excited, said, 'Reckington, we want you. You must go to
Ireland!' I believe I started, for he went on: 'I'll have no
refusal. There is but one settlement of this question that I
will accept of. You shall go to Ireland!' The king then
entered with considerable warmth, but with all his own remark-
able pei'spicuity, into a detail of late changes and events in the
Cabinet. He was excessively irritated with B , and spoko
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 v.^ith the
unbounded frankness of his manner towards me, affected me
almost to tears. Of course, my dear Dora, personal con-
siderations 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 tho
precious confidence he had, that day, reposed ii:i 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 Irela;: 1 from morning to night, and I hope and
trust have at last coine to a thorough understanding as to the
principles which must guide the future administration. These
I reserve to talk over with you when w'e meet : nor do I hesitate
to say that I anticipate the very greatest benefit in the fruits of
vour long residence and great powers of observation of this
strange people." The letter here went off into a somewhat long-
Avinded profession of the equal-handed justice which was to
mai-k the acts of the admistration. 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
cu=pio;ous little paragraph rather damaged this glorious con-
clusion. "I don't mean to say, my dear coz, that e are to
204 THE MAKTrXS OF CKO' MARTIN.
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 ou his principles, and that high-minded and
honourable patriot who gives his convictions to party. With
the noisy declaimer at public meetings, the mob-orator or
pamphleteer, we shall have no sympathy. To the worthy
country 'gentleman — independent 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 saj'', we shall show
our gratitude, not grudgingly nor sparingly, but freely, openly,
and largely. You now know in what ranks we wish to see our
friends, in the very van of which array I reckon upon yourself"
We shall again skip a little, since here the writer diverged into
a slig'ht dissertation on the indissoluble ties of kindred, and the
links, stronger than adamant, that bind those of one blood
together. After a brief but rapid survey of the strong opposi-
tion which was to meet them, he went on : " Of course all will
depend upon our parliamentaiy support ; without a good work-
ing majority we cannot stand, and for this must we use all our
exertions." A few generalities on the comfort and satisfaction
resulting from "safe divisions" ensued, and then came the
apparently careless question, " What can you do for us ? Yes,
my dear Dora, I repeat, what can you do for us ? What we
need, is the sujiport of men who have courage enough to merge
old prejudices and old convictions in their full trust in us; who,
with the intelligence of true statesmanship, will comprehend
the altered condition of the country, and not 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 upon party
watchwords and antiquated symbols, but on the prospect of
seeing Ireland great and united. Now, will Martin come to
our aid in this wise? He ought to be in parliament for his
county. But if he be too indolent, or too happy at home, whom
can he send us? And again, what of the borough ? Tlicy tell
me that Kilcock, seeing his father's great age, will not stand
where a contest might be expected, so that you must necessarily
be prepared with another."
Again the writer launched out upon the happiness he felt at
being able to appeal thus candidly and freely to his own "dearest
kinswoman," inviting her to speak as frankly in return, and to
believe that no possible diifcreuce of political opinion should
STATECRAFT. 205
ever throw a coldness between those whose veins were filled
with the same blood, and whose hearts throbbed with the same
affections. Her ladyship's voice slightly faltered as she read
out the concluding- paragraph, and when she laid the letter
down, she turned away her head and moved her handkerchief to
her e3'es.
As for Martin, he sat still and motionless, his gaze firmly
directed to Repton, as though seeking in the impassive lines of
the old lawyer's face for some clue to guide and dii-ect him.
" You used to be a Tory, Martin r " said Repton, after a
pause.
" Yes, to be sure, we were always with that party."
"Well, there's an end of them now," said the other; "what's
to follow and fill their place, my Lord Reckington may be able
to say, I cannot. I only know that they exist no longer, and
the great question fur you — at least one of the great cpestions
— is, have you spirit enough to join a travelling party without
knowing whither they're journeying ? "
"And what may be the other great question, sir?" asked
Lady Dorothea, haughtily.
"The other is, what will it cost in money? — -ay, my lady, in
money — because any other outlay will not require searches nor
title-deeds, loans, mortgages, nor bond-debts."
"To contest the county would cost ten thousand pounds — '
Scanlan says so," rejoined Martin.
" And the borough ? " asked Repton.
'* A few hundreds would suffice ; at least they have done so
hitherto."
" Then remain content with the cheap luxury of the borough,"
said Repton. "You don't want anything from these people,
Martin. You don't covet a Peerage — you wouldn't accept a
Baronetcy. You remember what Langtou said, when told that
the King was going to give him ' the Ked Hand.' 'If I have
been unfortunate enough to incur his Majesty's displeasure, I
must deplore it deeply, but surely my innocent son should rot
be included in the penalty of my oSence, Therefore, in all
humility, I beseech and entreat the royal favour to commute the
sentence into Knighthood, so that the disgrace may die with
me.'"
"There were times when such insolence would have cost him
dearly," said her ladyship, sternly.
" I am not sorry that we don't live in them, my lady,"
replied Repton. " But to return : as I was saying*, you ask for
206 THE JIARTIKS OF CRO' MARTIN.
no favours; why shoiiUl yon expend ten or fifteen thonsand
pounds to advocate views of whose tendencies you know nothing',
and i)rinciples whose very meaning you are in ignorance of?"
"I anticijDated every word of this," said Lady Dorothea. "I
told Mr. Martin, this morning, almost literally-, the exact advice
you'd proffer."
" I am proud that your ladyship should have read me so
justly," said Repton, bowing.
An insolent toss of her head was the significant answer to
this speech.
'* But were I to speak my mind more candidly, I'd even say,
let the borough go after the county ; and for this plain reason,"
said Ropton, speaking* with increased firmness and animation,
"you neither seek for the ambition of political life, nor want to
make a tirade of its casualties."
"Is it not possible, sir, that we might desire the nalural
influence that should arise out of our station in society and our
rank in this county?" said Lady Dorothea, proudly.
"And your ladyship has it, and can never lose it. Having a
vote or two to throw into a Ministerial division would never
repay you for the anxieties and cares of contested elections.
Ah, my lady, what do you care for the small flatteries of London
attentions."
"We should have these, sir, as our right.' broke she in.
"To be sure you would, and much happiness do I hope they
would confer," added he, in a tone only overheard by Martin;
then continued aloud: "As to the patronage at your disposal,
would you take a present of it? Whom do you want to make
tide-waiters, gangers, barony constables, or even clerks of the
peace ? Of all men living, who is so free of hungry dependents
or poor relations ! "
" I must say, sii*, that j^ou 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 croing to that part of the case, my lady," said Repton.
" Martin is a Tory ; now, what are the men coming into power ?
I wish you could tell me. Here, for instance, is one of their
own journals" — and he opened a newspaper and ran his eye
over the columns — " ay, here it is : ' With regai'd to Ireland,
Lord Reckington's appointment as Viceroy is the best guarantee
that the rights of Irishmen of every persuasion and every
STAIECRAFT. 207
denomination will be rcsj^ccfccd.' So far so good ;" and he read
on in a low, humdrum voice for some minutes, till he came to
the following : " ' No privileged class will any longer be tolerated
— no exceptional loyalty admitted as an excuse for insufferable
oj)pressioii 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 tho
possible Ireland of factious enthusiasts — be g'overned by men
determined to redress her grievances and improve her capacities.'
Now, Martin, yon want no augur to interpret that oracle. They
are going to rule you by the people; but the people must be
represented. Now, who represents them? Not the demagogue
— he is merely their tool ; the real representative is the priest —
don't langdi, my dear friend, at such a shadowy possibility, the
thing is nearer than j'ou dream of. No administration ever yet
tried to govern Ireland except by intimidation ; the Beresfords
were undertakers once, and they did their work very well, let
me tell you — they advanced their friends and whipped their
enemies ; and what with peerages for one set, and pitched caps
for the other, they ruled Ireland. Then there came the
Orangemen, who rather blundered their work; there were too
many heads amongst them, and the really clever fellows were
overborne by brawling, talkative fools, who always had the
masses with them because they vjore fools. Still they ruled
Ireland. They preserved the country to the King's crown ;
and I say once more, that was no small matter. And now we
have arrived at a new era : we have obtained Emancipation,
and must look out for another stamp of administrators, and I
see nothing for it but the priest. Of course you, and every
man of your station, sneer at the notion of being dictated to by
Father Luke, in the greasy leather small-clothes and dirty
black boots — only, himself, a cottier once reiuoved^ — a plant of
the wild growth of the fields, cultivated, however, in the hot-
beds of Mayuooth — a forcing-house whose fruits you are yet to
taste of ! Sneer away, Martin ; but my name is not Val Repton
if those men do not rule Ireland yet ! A}^, sir, and rule it in
such a fashion as your haughty Beresfords, and Tottenhams,
and Tisdalls never dreamed of! They'll treat with the Govern-
ment 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
208 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' MARTIN.
tempting- offers, insults and slights to their antagonists. Yon,
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 ci'owd 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 lad^^ship has pictured forth — a little
strongly, perhaps — is before you. Whether the interval be
destined to be long or short, will, in great measure, depend
upon yourselves."
" That agrees with what Scaulan said the other day," said
Martin.
"Scanlan!" echoed her ladyship, with most profound con-
tempt.
" Who is this Scanlan?" asked Repton.
*' Thei'e he conies to answer for himself," said Martin. "The
fellow drives neatly: see how cleverly he swept round that
sharp tiirn ! He may be 'at fault' about the world of politics,
but, my word for it ! he is a rare judge of a hack."
"And, now that you suggest it," said Repton, musingly,
"what an instinctive shrewdness there is on every subject — I
don't care what it is — about fellows that deal in horseflesh.
The practice of buying and selling, searching out flaws, here,
detecting defects, there, gives a degree of suspectful sharpness
in all transactions ; besides that, really none but a naturally
clever fellow ever graduates in the stable. You smile, my lady,
but some of our very first men have achieved the triumphs of
the turf"
"Shall we have Scanlan in and hear the news?" asked
Martin.
"Not here. If you please, you may receive him in the
library, or your own room."
"Then, come along, Repton. We can resume this affiiir in
the afternoon, or to-moi'row." And, without waiting for a
reply, he passed his arm within the other's and led him away.
"You have been too abrupt with her, Repton ; you have not
made due allowances for her attachment to family influences,"
Baid he, in a whisper, as they went along.
Repton smiled half contemptuously.
" Oh, it's all very easy for you to laugh, my dear fellow, but,
STAIECRAFT. 209
trust me, there's nothing to be done with my lady In that
fashion."
"Turn the flank — eh?" said the old lawyer, slily, "Ah,
Martin, don't teach me how to deal with humanity. If you
have not the courage to tell your wife that your estate cannot
bear fresh encumbrances, new loans, and new debts "
" Hush ! " said Martin, cautiously.
" Then, I say, let nie prevent the casualty, that's all."
"How are you, Scanlan?" said Martin, as the attorney came,
bowing and smiling, forward to pay his respects. " My friend,
Mr. Repton, wishes to make your acquaintance."
" I have the honour of being known to Mr. Repton, already,
sir, if he has not forgotten me."
"Eh — how? where?" cried the lawyer, sharply.
"In Reeves versus Dockery and another, sir, in Hilary, 24.
It was I supplied the instructions "
" To be sure — perfectly right. Maurice Scanlan ; isn't that
the name ? You did the thing well, sir ; and if we failed, we
retreated without dishonour."
"That was a grand shot you fired at the Bench, sir, when all
was over," said Scanlan. "I don't suppose they ever got such
a complete * set down ' before."
. "I forget it," said Repton, but with a bright twinkle of big
eye which more than contradicted his words.
"Then sir, it's more than their loi'dships ever will," said
Scanlan. " The Chief Baron it was," said he, addressing
Martin, " that overruled every objection made by Counsellor
Repton, and at last declared that he wouldn't hear any more
citations whatsoever. ' But I have a stronger case still, my
lord,' says the counsellor. ' I'll not hear it, sir,' said the Court.
' It is in Crewe and Fust, Term Reports, page 1438.*
" ' 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, tho
Puisne Judge, who was rather ashamed of the Chief Baron's
severity. ' Let us hear my Lord Eldon.'
" ' Here it is, my lords,' said the counsellor, ojoening the
volume, and laying his hand upon the page, ' Crewe and Fust's
Pleas of the Crown, page 1438. My Lord Eldon says : " I
may here observe the Courts of Law in Ireland are generally
wrong! The Coui't of Exchequer is ahvays wrong!"'"
Repton tried to smother his own delighted laugh at the
reminiscence, but all in vain, it burst from him long and
15
210 THE MARTIXS OF CRO' MAIITIN.
joyously; and as he shook Scanlan's hand, he said, "The
incident loses nothing by your telling, sir; you have done it
admirable justice."
" You make me very proud indeed, counsellor," said Scanlan,
who really did look overjoyed at the speeh.
"Have you any news for us, Scanlan?" said Martin, as they
entered the library.
" Yes, sir ; the Ministry is out."
"We know that already, man!"
" And the Marquis of Reckington comes here as Lord-Lieu-
tenant."
" That we know also."
*' Colonel Massingbred to be Chief Sec
" Moore Massingbred ! " cried both in a breath.
"Yes, sir; he that was a Treasury Lord."
"Are you quite sure of this, Scanlan?" asked Martin.
" I had it from Groves, sir, at the Castle, yesterday morning,
who told me there would be an immediate dissolution ; and
showed me a list of government candidates."
"You may talk them all over together, then," said Martin,
"for I'm heartily tired of politics this morning." And, so
paying, he left them.
A 8TUDI0. 211
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 way-
ward fancies, without let or hinderance. Your great j^ractical
intelligencies — your men of committees, and corn, and railroads,
and ship-canals — sneer at the fictitious life, for so does it seem
to them, of the mere painter or musician. They have a sort of
pitying estimate for capacities only exercised upon the ideal, and
look down with a very palpable contempt upon those whose
world is a gallery or an orchestra. After all, this division of
labour is a wise and happy pi^ovision, caiTying with it many and
varied benefits, and making of that strange edifice of mankind
a far more pleasing and harmonious structure than we should
otherwise have seen it. The imagination is to the actual, in the
world of active life, what flowers are to nutritious herbs and
roots. It is the influence that adorns, elevates, and embellishes
existence. That such gifts have been confided to certain
individuals is in itself a suflicient 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 fall o? plans
for future greatness; Repton was scheming, and sug^estinc,
and thwarting everybody in turn; and even Martin hiniserf,
engulphed in the "Maelstrom" of the crisis, was roused into a
state of semi-preparation that amounted to a condition of
15— i
212 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
almost fever. As for Massingbred, whatever lie really did feel,
his manner affected a raost consummate indifferance to all that
went forward; nor did the mention of his father's appointment
to high office elicit from him anything beyond a somewhat con-
temptuous opinion of the new party in j^ower. While, tlierefore,
secret councils were held, letters i-ead and written, confereiices
conducted in every room, one little space was devoid of all
these embarrassments and anxieties, and that was an oval
chamber, lighted from the top, and originally destined for a
summer ball-room, but now appropriated to Mr. Crow's use for
the completion of the Grand Historical, which had lately been
transferred from Kilkieran to its place there.
The unlucky masterpiece was doomed to many a difficulty.
The great events in prospect had totally banished all thought of
"art" from Lady Dorothea's mind. The fall of a recent
administration was a far more imminent circumstance than the
abdication of a king a few centuries back. Martin of course
had enough on his head, without the cares of mock royalty.
Mary was overwhelmed with occupations ; the floods, and a
threatened famine were casualties not to be overlooked, and she
was absent every day from dawn to late night ; while, to com-
plete the list of defaultei^s, young Nelligan — the future Prince
of Orange of the picture — was gone !
Men deplore their past youth, their bygone buoyancy of
heart, their old loves and extinct friendships, but of all departed
pleasures, there is a peculiar poignancy about one, and that is
an artist's grief over a " lost sitter." You ladies and gentlemen
whose thumbs have never closed on a palette, nor whose fingers
have never felt the soft influence of varnish, may smile at such
a sorrow, but take my word for it, it is a real and tangible
affliction.
The waving locks, the noble brow, the deep square orbits, and
the finely-cut chin, are but the subtle suggestions out of which
inspirations are begotten and poetic visions nurtured. The
graceful bearing and the noble port, the tender melancholy or
the buoyant gladness, have each in turn struck some chord of
secret feeling in the artist's breast, revealing to him new ideas
of beauty, and imparting that creative power which displays
itself in new combinations.
Poor Simmy Crow was not a Titian nor a Vandyke, but
unhappily the sorrows of genius are very often experienced by
those who are not gifted with its greatness, and the humble
aspirant of excellence caii catch every malady to which the
A STUDIO. 213
triumpbant in all the wild enthusiasm of his powers is exposed.
He sat down before his canvas, as some general mig-ht before a
fortified town, which had resisted all his efforts of attack. He
was depressed and discouraged.
The upper part of the young student's head was already half
finished, and there was enough done to impart a kind of
promise of success, that glorious vista which opens itself so
often in imagination to those whose world is but their own
fancy. He half thought he could finish it from memory, but
before he had pi-cceeded many minutes, he laid down the Ijrusli
in despair. It seemed like a fatality that something must
always interpose to bar the road to success. One time it was
sickness, then, it was poverty, a disparaging criticism had even
done it; and now, when none of these threatened, there arose a
new impediment. "Ah! Simmy, Simmy," he exclaimed aloud,
' you were born under an unkindly planet. That's the secret of
itaU!"
" I confess I cannot concur in that opinion," said a low, soft
voice behind him. He started up and beheld Kate Henderson,
Avho, leaning on the back of a chair, continued to gaze stead-
fastly at the canvas, perfectly regardless of his astonishment.
" There is a great deal to admire in that picture ! " said she, as
though talking to herself
Simmy crept stealthily back and stationed himself behind
her, as if to hear her remarks, while viewing the picture from
the same point.
" You have grouped your figures admirably," continued she,
now addressing him, " and your management of the light shows
a study of Rembrandt."
" Very true, ma'am — miss, I mean. I have copied nearly all
his great pieces."
"And the drapery — that robe of the King's — tells me that
you have studied another great master of colour; am I right,
sir, in saying Paul Veronese?"
Simmy Crow's face glowed till it became crimson, while his
ej'cs 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
pictures "
"Where? In the galleries abroad?" broke in Crow, hur-
riedly.
•'All over Germany and Italy. I travelled with those who
214 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
really cared fov and understood art. But to come back to
yours — that head is a noble study."
"And that's exactly what I'm grieving over; he's gone."
" Young Mr. Nelligan ? "
"Himself; he started this morning for Oughterard."
" But probably to return in a day or two."
Crow looked stealthily around to see if he were not likely to
be overheard, and then, approaching Kate, said in a whisper,
" I don't think he'll ever cross the doors again."
" How so ? has he received any offence ?"
*' I can't make out what it is," said Simmy, with a puzzled
look, " but he came to my room late last night, and sat down
without saying a word ; and at last, when I questioned him if
he were ill, he said suddenly,
" ' Have you found, Mr. Crow, that in your career as an
artist, you have been able to withdraw yourself sufficiently from
the ordinai'y events of life as to make up a little world of your
own, wherein you lived indifferent to passing incidents?'
" ' Yes,' said I, ' I have, whenever I was doing anything
really worth the name.'
" ' And at such times,' said he again, ' you cared nothing, or
next to nothing, for either the flatteries or the sarcasms of those
around you ? '
"'I 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 before you, were steeled against
the minor casualties of the journey. Then why should not I
also enjoy the immunity? Can I not summon to my aid a
pride like this, or am I to be discouraged and disgraced to my
own heart by a mere impertinence?'
" I stared at him, not guessing what he could mean.
" ' Rather quit the spot with which it is associated — quit it
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 — any-
thing, 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,
A STUDIO. 215
maybe a lonq-, low prairie swell rises before me. I don't try
for details, I don't even trace an outline, but just throw in aa
effect here and there, and by good luck it often comes right, in
some fine harmony of colour, that's sure to warm up my heart
and cheer my spirits ; for, as there are sounds that, swelling up,
fill the whole nature of man with ecstasy, there are combina-
tions of colour and tint that enter the brain by the eye, and just
produce the same sense of delight.' "
"And how did he accept your consolation?" asked she,
smiling good-natui'edly.
" 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 my chambers in
the college.'
" Of course I said ' I'd be delighted ;' and there we
parted."
"Poor fellow!" said Kate, but in an accent so peculiar it
would have been very difficult to pronounce whether the words
were of kindness or of disparagement.
"And your Prince, Mr. Crow ?" said she, changing her tone
to one of real or affected interest; "what's to be done now that
Mr. Nelligan has left us?"
" I'm thinking of making a background figure of him, miss,"
said Simmy. " Burnt sienna reduces many an illustrious in-
dividual to an obscure position."
" But why not ask Mr. Massingbred to take bis 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 T could
make nothing of it; I'd be always thinking of him standing
inside the plate-glass window of a Loudon Club, or cantering
along the alleys of the Park, or sipping his iced lemonade at
Tortoni's. There's no poetising 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,
216 THE MARTESrS OF CEO' MaETIN.
and a moutli tliere, harmonising- the details by the sugg-estiona
of their own genius. Now, what if pi^eserving all this here" —
and she pointed to the head and eyes — " you wei'e to fill up the
remainder, partly from imagination, partly from a study." And
as she spoke she took the brush from his hand, and by a few
light and careless touches imparted a new character to the
face.
"Oh, go on; lUiat's admirable — that's glorious!" exclaimed
Crow, wild with delight.
" There is no necessity to lose the expression of haughty
sorrow in the eye and brow," continued she ; " nor does it
interfere with the passing emotion he may be supposed unable
to control, of proud contempt for that priestly influence which
has dominated over the ambition of a king." And now, as
though carried away by the theme, she continued to paint as
rapidly as she spoke, while Crow busied himself iu preparing
the colours upon the palette.
" My hardihood is only intended to encourage j^ou, Mr.
Crow," said she, " by showing that if one like me can point
the road, the journey need not be deemed a difficult one." As
she retired some paces to contemplate the picture, she casually
glanced through a low glass door which opened upon the lawn,
and where, under the shelter of a leafy beech, a young country
girl was standing; her blue cloth cloak, with the hood thrown
over her head, gave a certain picturesque character to the
figure, which nearer inspection more than confirmed, for her
features were singularly fine, and her large, soft, blue eyes
beamed with a gentle earnestness, that showed Kate she was
there with a purpose.
Opening the door at once, Kate Hendersoa approached her,
and asked what she wanted.
AVith an air of half pride, half shame, the country girl drew
herself up, and stared full and steadfastly at the speaker, and
so continued till Kate repeated her question.
"Sure you're not Miss Mary?" replied she, by questioning
her iu 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 sec Miss ]\[artin, 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 cora2:)osure.
A STUDIO. 217
" Maybe her ladyship ? " asked Kate, far more interested than
repelled by tlie other's manner.
" It's none of them at all," rejoined she, " I came here to
speak to one that I know myself," added she, after a long
pause ; " and if he isn't gone, I want to see him."
" Oh, I think I can guess now," said Kate, smiling. *' It is
the counsellor from Dublin, Mr. Repton."
" It is no such thing," said the girl, promptly.
" Then it must be Mr. Crow, here,"
An indignant toss of the head gave the negative to thia
surmise.
" I have gone through all our names here," said Kate; " and
except Mr. Massingbred "
" And there's the very one I want," said the girl,
boldly.
" Step in here and rest yourself, and I'll send for him," said
Kate, and with such persuasive courtesy were the words uttered,
that almost, as it seemed, against her very will, the girl followed
her into the studio and sat down. While Mr. Crow proceeded
in search of Massingbred, Kate Henderson, resuming brush and
palette, returned to her painting; not, however, on the grand
canvas of the " Historical," but dexterously interposing a piece
of fresh board, she seized the opportunity to sketch the beau-
tiful 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 ques-
tion as to the paintings ; she even tried to moderate the eager
pleasure they afforded by an endeavour not to admire them.
Touched by the native pride of this struggle — for struggle it
was — the features had assumed a look of haughty composure
that well became the character of her beauty, and Kate caught
up the expression so rapidly, that her sketch was already well-
nigh completed when 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 inqmriug how I could go over and pay you
a visit."
Hurriedly as these words were uttei'ed, and in all the appa-
rent fervour of hearty sincerity, they were accompanied by a
short glance at Kate Henderson, who was about co leave the
room, that plainly said, *' Remain where you are, there is no
mystery here."
218 THE MAKTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
" I thank yer honer kindly," said Joan Landy, " but it's no
good coming, he isn't there."
" Not there ! — how and why is that ? "
" Sure you ought to know better than me,'" said she, fixing
her large eyes full upon him, " Ye left the house together, and
Jie never came back since,"
" Oh, perhaps I can guess," said Jack, pausing for a moment
to reflect. " He might have deemed it safer to keep out of the
way for a day or two."
" It's no good deceivin' me, sir," said she, rising from her
seat ; " tell me the whole truth. Where is he ? "
" That is really more than I can say, my dear Mistress Joan.
We parted in Oughterard."
" And yoTi 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 gentleman "
" It is precisely for that reason I can't suffer you to think so
meanly of me," cried Jack. "Now just hear me for one
moment, and you'll see how unjust you've been." And, draw-
incr 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,
consolingly.
" Not if he never hears of it," said she, in a voice tremulous
with fear.
" That he need never do," rejoined Jack ; " though I cannot
Bee why he should object to it. But come, M'-s. Joan, don't let
A STUDIO. 219
Ihis fret yon ; here's a young lady will tell you, as I have, that
nobody could possibly blame your natural anxiety."
" What would a young lady know about a poor creature like
me?" exclaimed Joan, dejectedly. "Sure, from the day she's
born, she never felt what it was to be all alone and friendless ! "
" You little guess to whom you say that," said Kate, turning
round and gazing on her calmly; "but if the balance were
struck this minute, take my word for it, you'd have the better
share of fortune."
Jack Massingbred's cheek quivered slightly as he heard
these words, and his eyes were bent upon the speaker with an
intense meaning'. Kate, however, turned haughtily away from
the gaze, and coldly reminded him that Mrs. Joan should have
some refreshment after her long walk.
"No, miss — no, yer honer; many thanks for the same," said
Joan, drawing her cloak around hei', " I couldn't eat a bit — my
heart's heavy inside me. I'll go back now."
Kate tried to persuade her to take something, or at least to
rest a little longer, but she was resolute, and eager to return.
" Shall we bear you company part of the way, then ? " said
Jack, with a look of half entreaty towards Kate.
" I shall be but too happy," said Kate, while she turned the
nearly-completed sketch to the wall, but not so rapidly as to
prevent Massingbred's catching a glimpse of it.
" How like ! " exclaimed he, but only in a whisper audible to
himself. " I didn't know that this also was one of your accom-
plishments."
A little laugh, and a saucy motion of her head was all her
reply, while she went in search of her bonnet and shawl. She
was back again in a moment, and the three now issued forth
into the wood.
For all Jack Massingbred's boasted " tact," and his assumed
power of suiting himself to his company, he felt very ill at
ease as he walked along that morning. "His world" was not
that of the poor country girl at his side, and he essayed in vain
to find some topic to interest her. Not so Kate Henderson.
With all a woman's nice perception, and quite without effort,
she talked to Joan about the country and the people, of whose
habits she knew suflBcient not to betray ignoi'ance ; 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 ou supe-
rior! t v.
220 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
Joan, whose instincts and sympathies were all with tho
humble class from which she sprang, described in touching
language the suffering condition of the people, the terrible
struggle against destitution maintained for years, and daily be-
coming 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 veiy few, gets
roused to anger, and does something to be transported or put in
gaol."
" And Miss Martin — does she not relieve a good deal of this
misery? Is she not of immense benefit by her exertions
here ? "
" Arrah, what can a young lady do after all. Sure it's always
them that talks most and best gets over her. Some are
ashamed, and some are too proud to tell what they're suffering ;
and I believe in my heart, for one that's relieved there are
twenty more angry at seeing how lucky he was."
They walked along now for some time in silence, when Joan,
stopping short, said — "There's the house, miss; that's the place
I live in."
" That house far away on the mountain side ? "
" Yes, miss ; it's four miles yet from this."
"But surely you haven't to walk all that way?"
"What signifies it? Isn't my heart lighter than when I
came along this morning? AiA now I won't let you come any
farther, for I'll take a short cut here across the fields."
"May I go and see you one of these days?" asked Kate.
Joan grew crimson to the very roots of her hair, and turned a
look on Massingbred, as though to say — " You ought to answer
this for me." But Jack was too deep in his own thoughts even
to notice the ajDpcal.
" I can scarcely ask tjou to come to vie," said Kate, quickly
perceiving a difficulty, " for I'm not even a visitor at Cro*
Martin."
" I'm sure I hope it's not the last time we'll meet, miss ; but
A STUDIO. 221
maybe" — she faltered, and a heavy tear burst forth, and rolled
Blowly 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 MassingT^red, raising his head from
an attitude of deep reverie. " When did she leave us ? "
"There she goes yonder," said Kate, pointing. "I fear me
her spirits are not as light as her footsteps. Are her people
very poor ? "
" Her father was a herd, I believe," said he, carelessly; " but
she doesn't live at home."
" Is she married, then? "
"I'm not sure that she is; but at least she believes that she
is."
"Poor thing!" said Kate, calmly, while, folding her arms,
she continued to g'aze after the departing* figure of the country
girl. " Poor thing ! " repeated she once more, and turned to
walk homewards.
Massingbred fixed his eyes upon her keenly as she uttered
the words ; few and simple as they were, they seemed to reveal
to him something of the nature of her who spoke them. A
mere exclamation — a syllable — will sometimes convey " whole
worlds of secret thought and feeling," and it was evidently thus
that Massingbred interpreted this brief expression. " There
was nothing of scorn in that pity," thought he. "I wish
she had uttered even one word more! She is a strange
creature ! "
And it was thus speaking to himself that he walked along
at her side.
"This wild and desolate scene is not very like that of which
we talked the other night — when first we met — Miss Hender-
son."
" Tou forget that we never met," said she, calmly,
" True, and yet there was a link between us even in those
few flowers thrown at random."
" Don't be romantic, Mr. Massingbred — do not, I pray you,"
said she, smiling faintly. " You Jcnoto it's not your style, while
it would be utterly thrown away upon me. I am aware that
fine gentlemen of your stamp deem this the fitting tone to
assume towards ' the governess,' but I'm really unworthy of it."
"What a strange girl you are," said he, half thinking aloud.
" On the contrary, how very commonplace," said she, hastily.
222 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" Do you like this country ? " asked Massiugbred, with an
imitation of her own abrupt manner.
"No," said she, shortly.
" Nor the people ? "
" Nor the people ! " was the answer.
"And is your life to be passed amongst them ? "
" Perhaps," said she, with a slight gesture of her shoulders.
"Don't you know, Mr. Massingbred," added she, with more
energy, " that a woman has no more power to shape her destiny
than a leaf has to choose where it will fall ? If I were a man
■ — you, for instance — I would think and act differently."
" I should like to hear what you would do if in my place,"
said Jack, with a degree of deep interest in the remark.
" To begin, I'll tell you what I would not do," said she, firmly.
"I'd not waste very good abilities oa very small objects;
I'd neither have small ambitions, nor small animosities. You
have both."
" As how ? " asked he, frankly, and with no touch of irrita-
tion.
" Am I to be candid ? "
" Certainly."
" Even to rudeness ? "
"Cut as deeply as you like," said he, smiling.
" Then here goes : — For the ' small ambition * I speak of, it
was displayed yesterday at dinner, when, in rivalry with that
old lawyer, you condescended to play agreeable, to out-talk him,
out-quote, and out-anecdote him. It is true you succeeded, but
what a poor success it was; how inadequate to the forces that
were mustered to effect it ! "
" And now for the other count of the indictment," said he,
with a half smile.
" First, do you plead guilty to this one ? " asked she.
"Yes; with an ' attenuating circumstance.' "
" What is that ? "
"Why, that you were present," said Jack, with a glance of
more than mere passing gallanti'y.
" Well," said she, after a pause, " I did take some of the dis-
play to my own share. I saw that you didn't care to cap-
tivate the youug lady of the house, and that ' my lady ' bored
you."
" Insufferably ! " exclaimed Jack, with energy.
" Your manner showed it," said she, " even more than such
polish ought to have betrayed."
A STL'DIO. 223
" Bat I'm sure I never exhibited any signs of my martyrdom,"
said lie; " I stood my torture well."
"Not half so heroically as you fancied. I noticed your
weariness before the dinner was half over, as I detected your
splenetic dislike to young Mr. Nelligan "
" To young Nelligan? — then he has told you "
"Stop — be cautious," bi'oke she in hurriedly; "don't turn
evidence against yourself. He has told me nothing."
*' Then what do you know ? "
" Nothing ; I only surmise."
" And what is your surmise ? "
" That he and you had met before — that you had even been
intimate — and now, from some misunderstanding, you had
ceased to be friends. Mind, I don't want confessions — I don'ir.
seek to learn your secrets."
*' But you shall hear this from me," said Massingbred, with
earnestness, " and perhaps you, so ready to blame me for some
things, may see reason to think well of me in this." He then
related, briefly but simply, the history of his acquaintance with
Nelligan; he dwelt, not without feeling, upon the passages of
their student-life, and at last spoke of his chance visit to
Oaghterard, and th>e 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,
fz'om 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 ?)ie, in Idm it were more manly."
" Why not have asked him which alternative he accepted?"
asked Kate.
" Because the opportunity to wound him deeply — incurably
— first presented itself. I knew well that nothing would hurt
him like the cool assumption of not recognizing him, and I de-
termined not to lose my vengeance."
" I'm a woman," said Kate, " and I'd not have stooped to that!**
It was rarely that Massingbred's emotions gave any evidence
of their working, but now his cheek grew crimson, as he said,
" A man can only measure a man's indignation."
" You ai'e angry without cause," said she, calmly ; " you wish
me to pronounce a verdict on an act, and are displeased because
I think difl'erently from you. How right I was iu my guess
224 THE :^IARTIXS OF CKO' MARTIN.
that small animosities -were amongst your failings I
now to quarrel with me!'"
Massingbred walked along for some moments without speak-
ing, and then said, "You knew Nelligan formerly?"
"Yes, we were playfellows together as children; lovers, I
believe, a little later on "
" And now ? " brake 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 ISTelligan — or I'm much mistaken — may feel the inequality
of his position as a something to overcome, a barrier to be sur-
mounted — not as a disability to contest the prizes of life even
with such as Mr. Massingbred."
" It is you now would quarrel with me" said Jack, retorting
her own words upon her. "And yet," he added, in a lower
tone, " I would wish to have you my friend."
" So you can, upon one condition," replied she, promptly.
" I accept, whatever it be. Name it."
" That you be your own friend, that you address yourself to
the business of life seriously and steadily; resolving to employ
your abilities as a means of advancement, not as a mere instru-
ment for amusement ; determine, in fact, to be something besides
a dilettante and an idler."
" Is it a bargain, then, if I do this ? " asked he, eagerly.
" Yes ; I promise you the high and mighty booja of my friend-
ship," replied she, with mock solemnity.
" And so we seal our contract," said he, pressing her hand to
his lips, but with an air of such respectful gallantry, that the
action implied nothing bordering on a liberty.
" And now I leave you," said she, as she opened the wicket-
o-ate of a small flower-garden; "such conferences as ours must
not be repeated, or they might be remarked upon. Good-by."
And without waiting for his reply, she passed on ir.to the
garden, while Massingbred stood gazing after her silently and
thoughtfully.
AX ELECXI027 ADDIli:S3«
225
CHAPTER XX
AN ELECTION ADDRESS.
" Am I behind time, Mr. Massingbred ? " said Kate Hender-
BOn, as she entered the Library, about a week after the events
we have last recorded — " am I behind time ? " said she, ap-
proaching- a table where the young man sat, surrounded with a
mass of letters and papers.
" Not very much," said he, rising, and placing a chair for
her ; " and I take it for granted you came as soon as you could."
"Tes; I have finished my morning's reading for her Lady-
ship — noted her letters — answered the official portion of her
correspondence — talked the newspaper for Mr, Martin — hum-
med a singing lesson for Miss Mary — listened to a Grand Jury
story of Mr. Repton — and now, that they are all oS" 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 distractecBy through his hair. " That's
from my father ! " added he, handing her a letter with a por-
tentious-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 ofiicial career,
he is quite right. The 'No Irish need apply' might be in..-
scribed over Downing-street ; but is that altogether your view?"
" I scarcely know what I pi'oject as yet," said he. " I have
no career ! "
"Well, let us plan one," replied she, crossing her arms fla
IG
22.6 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
tho table, and speaking with increased earnestness. "The
Martins have offered yoa Oughterard " He nodded, and
she went on : " And, as I understand it, very much on your own
conditions ? "
" That is to say, I'm not to damage the Tories more than I
can help, nor to help the Radicals more than I must."
" Is there any designation for the party you will thus belong
to ? " asked she.
" I'm not exactly sure that there is ; perhaps they'd call me
a Moderate Whig."
" That sounds very nice and commonplace, but I don't like it.
These are not times for moderation, nor would the part suit
you ! "
"You think so?"
" I'm certain of it. You haven't got habits of discipline to
serve with a regular corps ; to do anything, or be anything,
you must command a partisan legion "
" You're right there — I know that," broke he in,
" I don't mean it as flattery, but rather something a little
bordering on the reverse," said she, fixing her eyes steadfastly
on him ; " for, after all, there is no great success — I mean, no
towering success — to be achieved by such a line ; but as I feel
that you'll not work "
" No ; of that be assured ! "
" Then there are only secondary rewards to be won."
" You certainly do not 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 fluency —
great ' variety,' as Grattan would call it — an excellent memory
— and a most amiable self-possession."
" By Jove! " said he, reddening slightly, "you enumerate my
little gifts with all the accuracy of an appraiser ! "
"Then/' resumed she, not heeding his interruption, "you
have abundance of what is vulgarly styled ' pluck,' and whicli
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
equau'-lercd — could possibly raise you in you;' own cstei-'in. Tlie
AH ELECTION ADDRESS, 227
Governess may perform the part of the slave in the triumphal
chariot, but could not aspire to put the crown on the conqueror ! "
" But I have not conquered ! " said Jack.
" You may, whenever you enter the lists ; you must, indeed,
if you only care to do so. Go in for an Irish borough,"
said she, with renewed animation ; " arm yourself with all the
popular grievances — there is just faction enough left to last
your time ; discuss them in your own way, and my word for it
but you'll succeed. It will be such a boon to the House to hear
a gentlemanlike tone on questions which have always been
treated in coarser guise. For a while you'll have no imitators,
and can sneer at the gentry and extol the ' people,' without a
competitor. Now and then, too, you can assail the Treasury
benches, where your father is sitting ; and nothing will so re-
dound to your character for independence."
" Why, where in Heaven's name," cried Jack, " have you got
up all this ? What and how do you know anything of party
and politics ? "
" Have I not been studying ' Hansard ' and the files of the
Times for the last week by your directions ? Have I not read
lives of all the illustrious prosers you gave me to look through?
And is it very wonderful if I have learned some of the secrets
of this success, or that 1 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 piizzling me sadly ! Now
here, for instance," and he read aloud, " 'While steadfastly up-
holding the rights of property, (Zctermined 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 j 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 cars no
more for your Palladium — if we ever knew what it meant—
than we do for ' Grand Lama.* A slight dash of what is called
'nationality' would be better — very vague — very shadowy, of
course. Bear in miud what Lady Dorothea told us last nigh I
about the charm of the King's bow. Everybody thought it
specially meant for himself; it strikes me that somethiug of
this sort ivhould pervade an election address."
16—2
228 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"I wish to Heaven you'd write it, then," said Jack, placing
a pen in her fingers,
" Sometliing- in this fashion," said she, while her hands traced
the lines rapidly on the paper :
" ' Finding" that a new era is abont 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 suffrages, a perfect stranger
to your town, but no stranger to the wants and necessities of
that nationality which now, for the first time for centuries, ia
about to receive its due development.*
" Or this, if you prefer it," said she, writing away rapidly as
before :
" ' The presumption of aspiring to your representation will,
perhaps, be compensated when I come before you deeply im-
pressed with the wrongs which centuries of legislation have
enacted, and which, stranger as I am in Ireland, have arrested
my attention and engaged my sympathies, impelling me to
enter upon a public career, and, if 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."
" Rather, however, as though you had bi'ought over Martin
to yoxiT 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
professions I am strengthened by the cordial approval and sup-
port of one who, in his rank and station, and natural influence,
is second to none in this great county ; and, who, whatever
misconceptions have hitherto prevailed as to his views, is, heart
and soul, a true patriot and an Irishman ! '
" It will puzzle him sorely to guess what line he should
adopt to realize all this, and he'll have to come to you for his
politics ! "
" You have caught up the cant of this peculiar literature
perfectly," said Massingbred, as he pored over the papers she
had just penned.
" Dear me ! " cried she, in a weary tone, " my great difficulty
will be to discard its evil influence, and even write a common
note like a reasonable being again."
" But come, confess frankly : you think that a political career
AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 229
is the only one worth embracing, and that any other life offers
no reward worthy the name ? "
" I think you mistake me," said she. " It is the social posi-
tion consequent upon success in a political life that I value —
the eminence it confers in the very highest and greatest cix'cles.
If I regarded the matter otherwise, I'd not be indifferent as to
the line to follow — I'd have great convictions, and hold them —
I mean, if I were you.'''
" Then of course you consider me as one who has none
such ? "
" To be sure I do. Men of your measures of ability can no
more burden themselves with principles than a thorough-bred
hackney can carry extra weight — they've quite enough to do to
make their running without."
" Well, I shall certainly not be spoiled by flattery, at least
from you," said Jack, laiighing.
" They who know you less will make up for it all, depend
upon it," said she, quietly. " Don't fancy, Mr. Massingbred,"
added she, with more earnestness of manner — " don't fancy that
I'm insensible to the impertinences I have dared to address to
you, or that I venture ujion them without pain : but when I per-
ceived that you would admit me to the liberty of criticising
your conduct, chai'acter, and manners, I thought that I might
I'ender 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 wrong," said
he, looking fixedly at her.
" You'd find your task harder than you suspect, sir," said she,
coldly. " There is a sense of pride about the humbleness of a
station such as mine, as all the elevation of one in yovirs, could
never fathom. And," added she, in a still more determined
tone, "there is but one condition on which this intercourse of
ours can continue, which is, that this topic be never resumed
between us. The gulf that separates your position in life from
mine is the security for mutual frankness ; to attempt to span it
over by deception would be to build a bridge that must break
down the first moment of its trial. Enough of this ! I'll take
230 THE MAETES'S OF CRO' MARTIN.
these," said she, gathering up the papers, " and copy them out
clearly. They ought to be with the printer to-morrow ; and,
indeed, you should not defer your canvass."
Massingbred made no answer, but sat with his head buried
between his hands.
"I'd have you to visit the 'dear constituency ' at once, Mr.
Massingbred," said she, with a slight touch of scorn in her
voice. " They are not well-bred enough to bear a slight ! "
And with this she left the room.
" I should like excessively to know the seci'et of this interest
in my behalf," said Jack, as he arose and slowly walked the
room. " It is not, unquestionably, from any high estimate of
my capacity ; as little is it anything bordering on regard ; and
yet," added he, after a pause, " there are moments when I half
fancy she could care for me, at least I know well that I could
for lier. Confound it ! " cried he, passionately, " what a terrible
barrier social station throws up ! If she were even some
country squire's daughter — portionless as she is — the notion
would not be so absurd ; but ' the governess! ' and ' the steward! '
what frightful figures to conjure up. No, no ; that's impossible.
One might do such a folly by retiring from the world for ever,
but that would be exactly to defeat the whole object of such
a match. She is essentially intended for ' the world ' — every
gift and grace she possesses are such as only have their fitting
exei'cise — where the game of life is played by the highest, and
for the heaviest stakes ! But it is not to be thought of! "
"Have I found you at last?" cried Repton, entering the
room. " They say the writ will be here on Monday, so that
we've not an hour to lose. Let us drive over to Oughterard at
once, see the editor of the Intelligence, call on priest Rafferty,
and that other fellow — the father of our young friend here."
" Ml". Nelligan," said Jack. " But I can't well visit him —
there have been some rather unpleasant passages between us."
" Ah ! you told me something about it. He wanted you to
fill a bail-bond, or do something or other, rather than shoot me.
An unreasonable old rascal ! Never mind ; we shall come
before him now in another character, and you'll see that he'll
be more tractable."
"The matter is graver than this," said Jack, musingly; "and
our difference is serious enough to make intercourse impos-
sible."
"You shall tell me all about it as we drive along — that is, if
it be brief and easy to follow, for my head is so full of election
AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 231
matters I don't desire a new element of complication. Step in
now, and let us away." And with this he hurried Massingbred
to the door, where a pony-phaeton was in waiting for them.
Once on the road, Repton changed the conversation fi-om the
domain of politics, and talked entirely of the host and his
family. There was a sort of constitutional frankness and
familiarity about the old lawyer which all the astute habits
and instincts of his profession had never mastered. Like a
gre^A xnany 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 had been a com-
plete stranger amongst them.
At first Jack heard him without much interest, but, as he
continued, the subject attracted all his attention, full as it was
of views of life and the world, perfectly new and strange to
him.
To Massingbred's great astonishment, he learned that vast as
the estates, and largo as was the fortune of the Martins, that
they were deeply encumbered with bond-debts and mortgages.
The wasteful habits of the gentry generally, combined with
great facilities for obtaining money at any emergency, had led
to this universal indebtedness; and, in fact, as the lawyer ex-
pressed it, an old estate was supposed to be the victim of debt,
as an elderly gentleman was liable to gout ; nobody presuming
to think that the tenure, in either case, was a whit the more
precarious on account of the casualty.
"Now," said Repton, as they reached a point of the road
from which a view of the country could be obtained for miles
on every side — " now, as far as you can see belongs to Martin.
Beyond that mountain yonder, too, there is a large tract — not
very productive it is true — extending to the sea. The fine
waving surface to your left is all tillage land ; and the islands
in the bay are his. It is really a princely estate, with even
greater hidden resources than those palpable and open to view.
But, were I to show it to you on a map, and point out at the
same time every spot on which some 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 careless
ease of the proprietor than you now are at the extent of bis
foi'tune."
" But he is spending immensely in improving and developing
the property," said Jack.
232 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"Of course he is, sir. That new-fangled notion of 'gentle-
man-farming' — which has come to us from countries whera
there are no gentlemen — won't suit Ireland, at least in the
present generation. What we want here is, not to make more
money, but to learn how to spend less ; and although the first
very often teaches the last, it is a hard way for an Irishman to
acquire his knowledge. There's your borough, sir — that little
spot in the valley yonder is Oughterard, Do you feel, as you
behold it, as though it were to be the mainspring of a great
career ? Is there an instinctive throb within that says, ' The
Honourable Member for Oughterard will be a great name in
the " Collective Wisdom ?" ' "
" I can scarcely say yes to that appeal," said Jack, smiling ;
"though if what you have just told me of the mediocrity of
public men be true "
"Can you doubt it? You have them all before you — their
lives, their sayings, and their doings. Show me one in the
whole mass who has originated a new idea in politics, or
developed a new resource in the nation. Do they exhibit the
common inventiveness displayed in almost every other walk of
life, or do they even dress up their common platitudes in any
other garb than the cast-off clothes of their predecessors?
Mediocrity is a flattery when applied to them. But what's
this coming along behind us, with such clattering of hoofs ? "
"A tandem, I think," said Jack, looking backward, "and
very well handled, too."
" Oh, that illustrious attorney, Mr. Scanlan, I've no doubt.
Let us draw up till he passes." And so saying, Repton moved
to one side of the road, giving a wide space for the other to
proceed on his way. Mr. Scanlan, however, had subdued his
nags, by a low, soft whistle, to a half trot, when, giving the
reins to his servant, he descended and advanced to the carriage.
" I've been in pursuit of you, gentlemen," said he, touching his
hat courteously, "for the last four miles, and I assure you
you've given me a breathing heat of it. Mr. Martin requested
me to hand you this note, sir," added he, addressing Repton,
" which demands immediate attention."
The note was marked " instantaneous," and " strictly private,"
on the cover, and Repton opened it at once. It's contents were
as follows:
" Dear Rep.,
"The post has just arrived, with intelligence that ITarry is
AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 233
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.
"Yours, in haste,
" G. M."
" You*know what this contains, perhaps?" said Repton, in a
whisper to Scanlan. He nodded an assent, and the old lawyer
re-read the note. " I don't see my way here quite clearly,"
added he, in the same subdued voice, to Scanlan.
"I'll stroll on and stretch my legs a bit," said Jack, springing
out of the pony phaeton, and seeing that the others had some
pi-ivate matter of discussion; and Scanlan now drew nigh,
while Repton informed him what the note contained.
" It's a little too late for this now," said Scanlan, gravely.
"How do you mean too late?" asked Repton.
" Why, that Massingbred stands well with the people in the
borough. They think that he'll be more their man than
Martin's, and indeed, they're so confident of it, I half suspect
he has told them so."
" But there has been no canvass as yet — his address isn't
even printed."
"There has been a correspondence, however," said Scanlan,
with a knowing wink. " Take my word for it, Mr. Repton,
he's a deep fellow."
"Are you quite sure of this? — can you pledge yourself to its
truth?"
"I only know that Father RaflPerty said the night before last
he was satisfied with him, and the one diflBculty was about old
Nelligan, who somehow is greatly incensed against Massing,
bred."
" He'd have no chance in the borough without us," said
Repton, confidently.
" If old Dan would consent to spend the money, he'd be the
Member in spite of us," rejoined Scanlan.
" I'll not dispute local knowledge with you, sir," said Repton,
peevishly. " Let us turn back at once. Where's Mr. Massing,
bred? I saw him standing on the hill yonder a few minutes
ago; maybe, he's strolling along the road in front." Repton
moved forward to a rising spot of ground, from whence a
wide view extended for a distance on every side, but no
trace of Massingbred could be discovered. "What can have
234 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
become of him? — has he turned towards Cro' Martin?" asked
Repton.
"There he is," cried Scanlan, suddenly; "there he is, walking
with Magennis. They're taking the short cut over the hills to
Oughterard — that's unfortunate, too ! "
"How so?"
"Why, before they're in the town they'll be as thick
as two pickpockets — see how they're talking ! I tliink, if
I was to drive on, I'd catch them before they entered the
town."
" Do so, then, Scanlan, Say that a sudden message from
Mr. Martin recalled me, but that you'll drive him back with
you to Cro' Martin."
"Am I to allude to the contents of the note, sir ?"
"I think not; I opine it's best not to speak of it. Say,
however, that something of importance has occurred at Cro'
Martin, and suggest to him that the sooner he returns thither
the better."
There was an amount of vacillation and uncertainty about
Repton's manner as he uttered these few words that showed
not only how gravely he regarded the crisis, but how totally
unprepared he found himself for the emergency. Not so
Scanlan, who took his seat once more on his lofty " buggy,"
and was soon spinning along the road at a pace of full twelve
miles the hour.
As Repton drove back to Cro' Martin, he thought once, and
not without humiliation, of his late lessons in statecraft to
young Massingbred. " To fancy that I was instilling all these
precepts at the very moment that he was countermining us.
The young villain is a worthy son of his father ! And how he
will laugh at me, and make others laugh too. It will never do
to drive him into opposition to us. Martin must consent to
make the best of it, now, and accept him as his Member — for
the present, at least. With time and good opportunity we can
manage to trip up his heels, but, for the moment, there's no
help for it." And with these not very consoling reflections he
entered once more the grounds of Cro' Martin Castle.
Let us now turn to Massingbred, as, accompanied by Magen-
nis, be 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
AN ELECTIOX ADDRESS. 235
step of six, or six and a half; and if we walk as we're doiDn-
now, we'll be there at least twenty minutes before them."
"But what will Repton think of my leaving him in this
fashion ?"
" That it was a bit of your usual eccentricity — no more,"
said the other, laughing.
"You are quite certain of what you've just told me?" asked
Jack, after a pause.
" I tell you that you shall have it from Hosey's own lips.
He showed the post-mark on the back of the letter to Father
RafFerty, and it was ' Cape Town, August 24.' ISTow, 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 1 "
" Exactly what Father Neal said."
" A shrewd fellow that same Hosey must be to put things to-
gether 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 the whiskers, and he'll be a
proud man to have you under his hand."
"And the committee are satisfied with my letter?" asked
Jack.
"They are, and they are not; but, on the whole, they think
it's a step in the right direction to get anything out of the
Martins, and, as Father Neal remarks, ' where we can pass
with our head, we can put our whole body through.' "
" But what's to be done about Nelligan ? the breach with
him is, I suspect, irreparable."
" Why, it was Nelligan himself moved the first resolution in
the committee, that your address be accepted as embodying the
views — he said the present views — of the liberal electors."
"You amaze me!" cried Massingbred; "and Joe, where was
he?"
" Joe is ofi" to Dublin ; there's some examination or other he
must attend. But old Dan is your friend, rely upon that."
" This is inexplicable," muttered Jack to himself.
" We'll go there, straight, the moment we get into the town.
He'll take it as a great compliment ; and you can talk to him
frankly and openly, for old Dan is a man to be trusted."
"I wish I could guess at how this reconciliation has been
efifected," muttered Jack.
236 THE MARTraS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" It -was your letter did it I think."
" But I never wrote one."
" Well, somebody else did, perhaps ; at all events, Dan had
an open letter in his hand when he addressed the committee,
and said : ' After reading this, gentlemen,' said he, ' I can only
say that I'll not oppose Mr. Massingbred; and if the free and
independent men of Oughterard ask me who is the man to
represent them, I'll answer, he's your man ! And what's more,
there's my name down for two hundred pounds for the election,
if it ever comes to be a contest ! ' "
"This is all very good, but very strange news," cried
Jack,
" Well, I can explain nothing of the mystery, if there be one.
I only know what I heard and saw myself."
" Let us go to his house, at all events," said Massingbred,
who now suffered his companion to rattle on about the state of
parties and politics in Oughterard, little heeding his remarks,
and only bent on following out his own thoughts. " Give whom
the slip ? " asked he, suddenly catching at the last words of
some observation of Magennis.
" The Martins, of course," resumed the other ; " for, as Father
Neal says, ' if we can secure the borough for you, you can well
afford to stand by us ; but if you were only Martin's Member,
he'd drop you whenever it suited him.' "
"As to-morrow, for instance, if his son should make his
appearance ! "
" Just so ; and that's the very reason for not losing a minute
about getting the Martins in for the cost. What can they say,
after choosing you and putting* you forward ? "
"They might make a personal appeal to me — a distinct
request to give place to the son."
" And wouldn't you pay great attention to it ? " said Magen-
nis, in mockery.
" I'm not so very sure I'd refuse," said Massingbred, slowly.
" Faith, then, you'd better be candid enough to tell the
electors so ' at once.' Look now, Mr. Massingbred," said he,
coming to a dead halt, and standing directly in front of him,
" we don't go the same road, not one step, till I hear from you,
distinctly and plainly, what you mean to do."
"This is somewhat of a peremptory pi'oceediiig," replied
Jack. "I think it would not be very unreasonable to allow
a man in my situation a little time for reflection."
"Heflect upon what?" cried Magennis. "Is it what politics
/
AN ELECTIOX ADDRESS. 237
you'd be? If that's what you mean, I think you'd better saj
Bothing about it."
" Come, come, Mac, you are not quite fair in this business ;
there are difiBculties — 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
iiere could succeed in spite of Martin "
"So it will."
" You're sure of that ? "
"I'll show it to you on paper. We'd rather have Martin
with us and no contest, because it's cheaper; but if it must
come to money, we'll do it."
"Satisfy me on that point, and I'm with you; there's my
hand on't !"
And Magennis grasped him in his own strong fingers to
ratify the contract.
"While "Mac" went on to give some insight into the views
and wishes of his party, they reached the town and entered the
main street, and held their way towards old Nelligan's shop.
" That's Father Neal's pony at the door," said Mac, as they
approached the shop ; " so we'll find them both together."
"I scarcely think I can enter hei'e," 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."
" Do so, then," said Massingbred, not sorry to have even a
few moments to himself for quiet thought and consideration.
He was still standing and deeply engrossed by his reflections,
when he was aroused by hearing his name called aloud, and,
on looking up, perceived Magennis beckoning to him from a
window overhead.
In obedience to the signal, Jack turned and entered the shop,
where his friend quickly joined him. " Old Dan is in his bed,
with a heavy cold and a rheumatism, but he'll see you; and
Father Neal's with him, and Hayes besides." And with this
information he hurried Jack up the stairs, and led him into a
darkened room, where the figures of the priest and old Hayes
were dimly discernible. Before Massingbred had well crossed
the door-sill, Nelligan called out, " Your servant, Mr. Massing-
bred. I'm more than pleased with your explanation. Let me
shake your hand once more."
238 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
•' I'm not quite sure that I understand you," said Jack, in a
low voice ; but before lie could continue, the priest advanced to
greet him, followed by old Peter.
"Wasn't I in luck to catch him on the road this morning?"
said Magennis ; " he was coming in with the old counsellor, and
just got out to walk up a hill "
" Remembei'," said Jack, " that I have few minutes to spare,
for I must be in waiting about the market-place when he drives
in."
"We must have a conference, though," said Father Neal;
" there's much to be settled. First of all, are we to coalesce
for the representation ? "
" No, no, no ! " cried Nelligan. " We'll have it our own way.
If Mr. Massingbred will be our Member, we want no help from
the Martins."
" There's five pounds, and I'll make it guineas if you like,"
said old Hayes, putting a note upon the table ; " but the devil a
Whig or Tory will ever get more out of Peter Hayes ! "
A very good-natured laugh from the others showed how
little umbrage the frank avowal excited.
" We'll not want for money, Peter, make your mind easy
about that," said Dan. " When can you meet the committee,
Mr. Massingbred? Could you say to-night?"
" Better to-morrow morning. I must return to Cro' Martin
this evening."
" Certainly — of course," said Father Neal, blandly. " You'll
have to come to an understanding with Mr. Martin about the
borough, dec'^are what your principles are, and how, upon A"ery
mature consideration, you find you can't agree with the opinions
of himself and his party."
Magennis winked significantly at Jack, as though to say,
" Listen to Itini — he's the man to instruct and direct you," and
the priest resumed :
" Go on to explain that your only utility in the House could
arise from your being the exponent of what you feel to be the
truth about Ireland, the crying evils of the Established Church,
and the present tenure of land! When you throw these two
shells in, sir, the town will be on fire. He'll reply, that under
these circumstances there's no more question about your stand-
ing 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 Scaulan just driving round the corner," said Mageu-
AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 239
nis, in a whisper, and Massingbred arose at once and drew uigh
to the bedside.
"Could I say one word to you alone, Mr. Nelligan?" said he,
in a low voice.
" Of course," said he. And whispering the priest to take the
others into an adjoining room, old Nelligan montioned Jack to
sit down beside him,
" You said as I came in," said Jack, " that you were satisfied
with my explanation "
" To be sure I was," broke in Dan. " All I wanted to know
was, that you acted under a misconception. That being once
explained, there was no ofience on either side. Now, Catty
Henderson's letter to my wife put the thing straight at once;
she showed that your conduct at Cro' Martin arose out of a
notion that Joe had slighted you."
" Have you got this letter ? " asked Jack, eagerly.
"Indeed, then, I have not; his mother forwarded it to Joe
by the same post; but, as I tell you I'm satisfied, there's an
end of it.*'
" Scanlan's asking for you below stairs," said Magennis,
putting in his head, " and I hear them saying that they didn't
see you in town."
"All right," said Jack; "so I'll just slip out by the gai-den
gate and meet him in the market-square." And with a hurried
leave-taking Jack withdrew, his mind very far from that state
of tranquil composure in which it was his pride to afiect that he
invariably revelled.
"There they go!" cried Father l^eal, shortly after, as Scan-
Ian drove rapidly by, with Massingbred beside him. " Maybe
Master Maurice won't abuse us all round before he turns in at
the gate of Cro' Martin."
"Massingbred is too 'cute to mind him," said Magennis.
"Ab, Tom, there's one appeal men of his stamp are never
deaf to. You may say fifty things that won't shock them in
religion, or morals, or good taste, but only utter the one word
'vulgar,' and their indignation rises at once. That's what
Scanlan will do, take my word for it. He'll call us a low set
of fellows, that have no position in society — no acceptance
anywhere."
"But Massingbred is a gentleman born, and he won't be led
astray by such a consideration."
"It is exactly for that very reason that he will," said the
priest, stoutly. " It's a strange fact, but there's no manner of
240 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
man rates social advantag-es 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 hia
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 Ms station — lye'll have ours.
There's a long and weary road Ijefore us ere we come to think
of our social condition. There's many a cruel statute to be
abolished — many a hard grievance to be redressed."
" And, besides that," said Father Neal, with a shrewd twinkle
in his eye, "while we're doing the one we'll be helping on the
other. Political influence always did, and always will, include
rank and station in the world. When English Ministers find
their best ally in the Irish Priest, there will be no more sneers
at his brogue nor his boots. Men of family and fortune won't
shrink from their contact, and maybe you'll see the day yet
when coaches and chariots will drive up to the chapel, and
ladies in satin and velvet step out to hear mass."
A prophetic view of the Millennium itself could not have
astonished old Peter Hayes more completely than did this
marvellous suggestion of Father Neal, and he moved away
muttering a "Heaven grant it!" between his teeth.
" Where's the next meeting of the committee to be ? " asked
Nelligan.
"In the Chapel House, to-morrow, at eleven. And that
reminds me I've not sent out the summonses." And so say-
ing, 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, ha
discoursed pleasantly to his companion while he "tooled" along
towards Cro' Martin. Not a word of politics, not a syllable
on the subject of party, escaped him as he talked. His con-
versation was entirely of sporting matters: the odds against
Leander, the last bettings on " Firebi-and," 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 insti'uctive companion, and commu-
nicated many a sly piece of intelligence that would have been
AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 241
deemed priceless in lielVs Lifti ; and Scanlan quickly conceived
a high estimate for one who had graduated at Newmarket, and
taken honours at Goodwood.
"After the kind of life you've led in England, I wonder how
you endure this country at all," said Maurice, with real sin-
cerity 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 j^ass a life-
time 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 fi'ora himself and his own affaii'S. " She's a well-bred
one, that's clear."
'■ Nearly full-bred ; the least bit of cocktail iu the world.
She's out of Cx'escent, that ran a very good third for the Oaks."
" A strong horse, and a very honest one," said Jack.
"Well, I bought that little mare from young Mr. Martin —
the captain — when he was ordered out to India ; I put her in
training, and ran her at the Curragh in three weeks, and won,
too, the St. Lawrence Handicap."
"Is Captain Martin a sporting character?" asked Jack,
carelessly.
" He is and he is not," said Scanlan, half querulously. "He
likes a safe thing — do you understand ? " and he gave a most
significant wink as he spoke.
"Oh, then he's close about money matters?" said Massing-
bred.
"Not exactly that. He's wasteful and spendthrift, but he'd
go to the world's end to do a knowing thing — you've seen men
of that kind ? "
" Scores of them," replied Jack ; and they were always the
easiest fellows to be duped ! "
" Exactly my own experience," said Scanlan, delighted to find
his opinions confirmed in such a quarter. " Now, young Martin
would give five hundred pounds for a horse to win a fifty pound
cup. Don't you know what I mean ? "
" Perfectly," said Massingbred, with an approving smile.
" Nobody knows the sums he has drawn since he went away,"
exclaimed Scanlan, who was momentarily growing more and
more confidential.
" There's a deal of high play in India — perhaps he gambles,**
said Jack, carelessly.
17
242 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
A significant wink and nod gave the answer.
"Well, well," added he, after a pause, "he'll not mend
matters by coming back again."
" And is he about to visit England ? " asked Massingbred in
the same easy tone.
" So they say," replied Scanlau, with an effort at the easy
indifference of the other.
"On leave, perhaps?" said Jack, indolently.
"That's more than I know," replied he, and relapsed into a
thoughtful silence, during which Massingbred continued to scan
his features with a sly, downcast glance peculiar to himself.
" You've never been in Leicestershire, Mr. Scanlan ? " said
he, when he had fully satisfied himself with his examination.
" Well, then, come over thei^e in the spring — say about March
next — and pay me a visit. I've got a sort of himting-box there,
with a neat stable, and by that time I hope to raise funds for a
couple of nags."
" Trust me for the horseflesh, sir. I know where to mount
you this very minute. You're not much above eleven stone ? "
" Eleven-eight — at least, so I used to be. Is it a bargain ?
Will you come ? "
'-' There's my hand on't," said the attorney, overjoyed at the
prospect.
" Mackworth, and Loi'd Harry Coverdale, and SirWentworth
Danby, and a few more, are all my neighbous. Capital fellows,
whom you'll be delighted with. Just the sort of men to suit
you — up to everything that means sport."
" Exactly what I like!" cried Maurice, in ecstasy.
" We'll arrange it all this evening, then," said Jack. " Just
drop into my room after they're all gone to bed, and we'll have
a talk over it. " You don't know my father, do you ? "
"I haven't that honour," said Scanlan, with an accent of real
deference in his voice.
"Another kind of person from these I've mentioned," said
Jack, slowly.
" So I should suppose, sii'," said Scanlan, a tone of respect
involuntarily attaching itself to him as he addressed the son of
a Secretary of State.
"Not that he doesn't like field sports, and all the enjoyments
of a country life. But, you know, he's an old oflicial — a Down-
ing-strcet veteran — who really relishes j)ublic business, just as
you and I would a coursing match, or a heavy pool p-'
Crockys."
AN ELECTION ADDRESS. 243
Scanlan nodded as if iu perfect assent.
" While I say this, it's only fair to add that he has most ex-
cellent qualities, and is a staunch friend when he takes any one
up. I suspect i/oio'd like him. I know he'd like you."
" I'm greatly flattered. I don't deserve "
" You see," said Jack, not heeding the interruption, and
assuming the low accents of a confidential communication —
" you see, he and I have not been on the very best of terms for
some time back; I've done some silly things — spent a little
more money than he liked — and, what was still worse in his
eyes, refused a first-rate Government appointment — a really
good thing, and such as one doesn't meet with every day — and
now, the only road back to his favour will be for me to come
out strongly in some shape, either as a college prizeman, or iu
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,
cue who has seen the world — the real world — these are nothing
more than schoolboy distinctions — the silver medal he brings
home of a Saturday, and makes him the wonder of his sisters
for twenty-four hours. I'll have to strike out a line of my
own !"
" No fear of you, sir — devil a bit ! " said Maurice, with a
sententious shake of the head. "Here we are now at Cro'
Martin, and there's the first dinner-bell ringing."
" We shall be late, perhaps," said Jack.
" You'll be in good time. As for me, I haven't been asked to
dinner, so that when I drop you I'll go down to the village."
" Well, then, I'll walk over and see you in the evening," said
Massingbi'ed. " It seems to me — I don't know whether you
are of the same opinion, though — but it seems strongly to me
that you and I ought to be allies."
" If I thought I was worthy "
" Come, come, Scanlan, no modesty, old boy. You know
you're a devilish clever fellow, and you no more intend to pass
your life cruising'after petty-session practice in Galway, than I
do to settle down here as under-gardener."
" They're all looking at us, sir, from the drawing-room
windows," said Scanlan, in a cautious voice ; " don't let us
appear too confidential." And at the same instant he extended
his whip as though to point attention to some distant object,
and seem as if he were describing the scenery.
" Shrewd dog it is," muttered Massingbi'ed iu solilocni}-, but
taking good care to be overheard. " I'll beat up your quarters,
17-«
244; THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Scanlan, in a couple of hours or so," said Massingbred, as he
descended from the lofty " drag."
Somewhat, but not very much, later than the time appointed,
Jack Massingbred appeared in the small chamber of the
" Crueskeen " — the humble hostel on the roadside adjoining the
demesne of Cro' Martin. Maurice Scanlan had made every
preparation which the fluid resources of the house admitted to
receive his guest, but they were not destined to be put in requi-
sition.
" I have only come lest you should accuse me of forgetting
you, Scanlan," said Massingbi'ed, as he stood in the doorway
without removing 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 now, good-by for a brief face. We shall meet
soon." And, without waiting for answer, he nodded familiarly,
stepped briskly to the door, where a post-chaise awaited him,
and was gone, before Scanlan had even half recovered from
bis astonishment and surprise.
AN AWK^-AKD VISITOR. £45
CHAPTER XXL
AH AWKWARD VISITOR.
It is a singularly impressive sensation, and one, too, of which
even frequency vs'ill scarcely diminish the effect, to pass from
the busy streets and moving population of Dublin and enter the
quiet courts of the University. The suddenness of the change
is most striking, and you pass at once from all the bustling in-
terests 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 I'oofs.
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
Btudy and seclusion, for his was indeed a life of labour — labour
hard, unremitting, 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 which he had retired as a sanctuary, and at times the scene
of the 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 that he had ever
tasted of successful ambition, and in the dejiths of that old
248 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIX.
cTiair had he dreamed away all the visions of a glorious future.
The room in Avhich he sat was a large and lofty one, lighted by
two windows deeply set in the wall. Its sides were lined with
book-shelves, and books littered the tables and even the floor — •
for it was one of his caprices to read as he lay at full length,
either on the ground or a sofa — and the paper and pens were
scattered about in different quarters, as accident suggested. The
only thing like ornament to be seen was a lithographic print of
Cro' Martin Castle over the fireplace; a strange exception would
it seem, but traceable, perhaps, to some remote sence pf^boyish
admiration for what had first awakened in him a feeling of awe
and admiration ; and thei^e it now remained, timeworn and dis-
coloured, perhaps unnoticed, or looked on with very different
emotions. Aye! these pictures are teri-ible landmarks of our
thoughts ! I speak not of such as appeal to our hearts ay the
features we loved, the eyes into whose depths we have gazed,
the lips on whose accents we have hung entranced, but even
when they trace the outlines of some spot well known to us in
boyhood — some scene of long, long years ago. It is not alone
that the "Then" and "Now" stand out in strongest contrast,
that what we were, and what we are, are in juxtaposition, but
that whole memories of what we had once hoped to be come
rushing over us, and all the spirit-stirring emotions of early
ambitions mingle themselves with the stern realities of the
present. And, after all, what success in life, however great and
seemingly unexpected it may be, ever equals one of the glorious
day-dreams of our boyish ambition, in which there comes no
alloy of broken health, wasted energies, and exhausted spirits?
or, far worse again, the envious jealousy of those we once
deemed friends, and who, had we lived obscurely, still might
be such ? Student-life is essentially 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 that these periods are the fitting form of relaxation
for over-taxed minds, and that the Imagination is the soothing
influence that repairs the wear and tear of Reason,
The peculiar circumstances of young Nelligan's position in
life had almost totally estranged him from others. The con-
straint that attaches to a very bashful temperament had sug-
gested to him a certain cold and reserved manner that some
took for pride, and many were repelled from hia intimacy by
AN AWKWARD VISITOR. 247
this seeming haughtiness. The unhappy course of what had
been his first friendship — for such was it with Massingbred —
had rendered him more distrustful than ever of himself, and
more firmly convinced that to men born as he had been the
world imposes a barrier that only is passable by the highest and
greatest success. It is true, his father's letter of explanation
assuaged the poignancy of his sorrow ; he saw that Massingbred
had proceeded under a misconception, and had believed himself
the aggrieved individual ; but all these considerations could not
obliterate the fact, that an insult to his social station was the
vengeance adopted by him, and that Massingbred saw no more
galling outrage in his power than to reflect upon his rank in
life.
There are men who have a rug'ged pride in contrasting what
they were with what they are. Their self-love finds an intense
pleasure in contemplating difficulties overcome, obstacles sur-
mounted, and a goal won, all by their own unaided efforts, and
to such the veiy 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 triumphs are
those rewarded by station, or the distinctions conferred on intel-
lectual superiority, this vain-glorious sentiment is unknown.
An inborn refinement rejects such coarse pleasure, just as their
very habits of life derive no enjoyment from the display and
splendour reflected by riches.
Joe Nelligan felt his lowly station most acutely, because he
saw in it a disqualification for that assured and steady tempera-
ment which can make most of success. He would have given
half of all he might possess in the world for even so much of
bii'th as might exempt him from a sneer. The painful sensitive-
ness 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 moi'e common than for bashful men to believe
that they are unpopular in society, and that the world " will
none of them ! " They interpret their own sense of difficulty
as a feeling of dislike in others, and retire to their solitudes
convinced that these are their fitting dwelling-places. To this
unpalatable conviction was Joseph Nelligan now come; and as
he entered his chambers, and closed the heavy door behind him,
came the thought: "Here at least no mortific;!-* ions can reach
248 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
roe. These old books are my truest and best of friends, and in
their intercourse there is neither present pain nor future humili-
ation!"
It was on a dark and dreary day in winter, and in that cheer-
less hour, before the closing in of night, that Joseph sat thus
in his solitary home. The sound of carriage-wheels, and the
sharp tramp of horses' feet — a rare event in these silent courts —
slightly aroused him from a reverie ; but, too indolent to go to
the window, he merely raised his head to listen; and now a
loud knock shook the outer door of his chambers. "With a
strange sense of pertubation at this unwonted summons, he
arose and opened it.
"The Chief Secretary begs to know if Mr. Nelligan is at
home ? " said a well-powdered footman, in a plain but handsome
livery.
"Yes; I am the person," said Joseph, with a diflBdence
strongly in contrast with the composure of the other ; and
while he yet stood door in hand, the steps of the carriage were
let down, and a tall, venerable-looking man, somewhat past the
prime of life, descended and approached him.
"I must be my own introducer, Mr. Nelligan," said he; " my
name is Massingbred."
With considerable confusion of manner, and in all that hurry
in which bashful men seek to hide their awkwardness, Joseph
ushered his visitor into his dimly-lighted chamber.
Colonel Massingbred, with all the staid composure of a very
quiet demeanour, had quite sufficient tact to see that he was in
the company of one little versed in the world, and, as soon as
he took liis scat, 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 friend-
ship that existed between you ; and, although unable himself to
tender personally to you at this moment all his regrets on the
subject, he has charged me to be his interpreter, and express
his deep sorrow for what has occurred, and his hope that, after
this avowal, it may never be again thought of by either of
you.'»
"There was a misunderstanding — a fault on both sides — I
was wrong in the first instance," said Nelligan, faltering and
stammering at every word.
"Mr. Nelligan is in a position to be generous," said the
colonel, blandly, " and he cannot better show the quality than
AN AWKWARD VISITOR. 249
by accopting a frank and fall apology for a mere mistake. Ma|
I trust," coutiiiued he — but witli that slight change of tone tha'c
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 spai'ed the penalty of great labour."
" I am not reading now. I have I'ead 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 contribute those high abilities — will not he
satisfied to learn that their exercise should have been impared
by over-efibrt in youth."
"You overrate me much, sir. I fear that you have been
misled both as to my capacity and my objects."
" Your capacity is matter of notoriety, Mr. Nelligan ; your
objects may be as high as any ambition can desire. But per-
haps it is obtrusive in one so new^ to your acquaintance to
venture on these topics ; if so, pray forgive me, and set it down
to the error I have fallen into of fancying that I know you as
well personally as I do by reputation and character."
Before Nelligan could summon words to reply to this com-
plimentary speech, the door of his room was fiung suddenly
open, and a short, thick-set figure, shrouded in a coarse shawl
and a great-coat, rushed towards him, exclaiming in a rich
brogue, — ■
" Here I am, body and bones — just off the coach, and straight
to your quarters."
"What! Mr. Crow; is it possible?" cried Nelligan, in some
CO fusion.
" Just himself, and no other," replied the artist, disengaging
bin self from his extra coverings. " When you said to me,
* C' me and see me when you visit Dublin,' T said to myself,
'There's a trump, and I'll do it;* and so here I am."
*' You left the country yesterday. Did you bring me any
letters?" asked Nelligan, but in the uncertain tone of a man
who talked merely to say someHiing.
" Not a line — not a word. Your father was over head and
ears at work this week back about the election, and it was only
the night before last it was over."
250 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" And is it over ? " asked Nelligan, eag-erly.
" To be sure it is. Yoiing Massingbred is in, and a nice
business it is."
" Let rae inform you, Mr. Crow, before you proceed fur-
ther " broke in Nelligan ; but, as lie got so far, Colonel
Massingbred laid his hand on his arm, and said, in a bland but
steady voice, " Pray allow the gentleman to continue ; his
account promises to be most interesting."
" Indeed, then, that's what it is not," said Crow, " for I think
it's all bad from beginning to end." Another effort to interrupt
by Nelligan being repressed by the colonel, Crow resumed : —
" Everybody trying to cheat somebody else. The Martins
wanting to cheat the borough, the borough wanting to jockey
the Martins, and then young Massingbred humbugging them
both ! And there he is now. Member for Oughterard, and
much he cares for them both."
" Was there a contest, sir ? " asked the colonel, while by a
gesture he enforced silence on Nelligan.
" As bitter a one as ever you saw in your life," continued
Simmy, quite flattered at the attention vouchsafed him ; " for
thougli the Martins put young Massingbred forward at first,
they quarrelled with him before the day for the nomination —
something or other about the franchise, or Maynooth, or the
Church Establishment — sorra one o' me know much about these
matters — but it was a serious diffei'ence, and they split about
it ! And, after all their planning and conniving together, what
do they do but propose Martin's son, the man in the dragoons,
for the borough ! Massingbred bids them do their worst, packs
up, sets out for the town, and makes a speech exposing them
all ! The next morning he comes to the poll, with Joe's father
there, and Peter Hayes to propose and second him. Martin
drives in with three elegant coaches and four, and tries to do
the thing ' grand.' ' It's too late, sir ; the people know their
power,' as Father Neal told them ; and, upon my conscience, I
believe it's a most dangerous kind of knowledge ; at all events,
at it they go ; and such fighting and murdering nobody ever
saw before. There's not a whole pane of glass in the town,
and many a skull cracked as well ! One of the wickedest of
the set was young Massingbred himself; he'd assault the cars
as they drove in, and tear out the chaps he thought were his
own voters in spite of themselves. He has the spirit of the
devil in him ! And then to hear how he harangued the people
and abused the aristocracy. Maybe he didn't lay it on well !
///.^ '/:^r;^/^/^'
AN AWKWARD VISITOR. 251
To be sure, the Martins drove him to it ■^'ery hard. They
called him a ' renegade ' and a ' spy.' They ransacked every-
thing they could get against his character, and at last declared
that he had no qualification, and wasn't worth sixpence."
" And how did he answer that ? " cried the colonel, who,
fixing his eyes on the other, entirely engaged his attention.
" I'll tell you how he did. Just pi'oducing the title deeds of
an estate that old Nelligan settled on him eight days before —
ay, and so well and securely, that Counsellor Repton himself,
with all his 'cuteness, couldn't find a flaw in it. Repton said,
in my own hearing, 'That's the cleverest blackguard in
Ireland ! ' "
" Mr. Crow — Crow, I say," broke in young Nelligan.
" Pray don't interrupt him," said the colonel, in a tone that
seemed to demand obedience. " I want to learn by what majo-
rity he gained the day."
" Thirty-eight or thirty-nine ; and there's only two hundred
and odd in the borough. There may be, perhaps, a dozen of
these to strike off on a petition, but he's all safe after that."
"And will they petition against his return ? "
" They say so, but nobody believes them. His father," — and
here he made a gesture towards Nelligan — " his father has a
strong purse, and will see him well through it all."
" This is very interesting news to me, sir," said the colonel,
with another sign to Joseph not to betray him ; " for although
I could well imagine Jack Massingbred equal to such an occa-
sion as you describe, I was scarcely prepared to hear of the
generous confidence reposed in him, nor the prompt and able
able co-operation of the Liberal party."
" Ah, I perceive," said Crow, with a significant motion of his
eyebrows. " You thought that his name would be against him,
and that people would say, ' Isn't he the son of old Moore
Massingbred, that took his bribe for the Union ? ' "
" This is intolerable," cried Nelligan, starting up from his seat
and speaking with all the vehemence of outraged feelings. "It
is to Colonel Massingbred himself you have dared to address
this impertinence.
"What — how — what's this!" exclaimed Crow, in & perfect
horror of shame.
" The fault, if there be any, is all mine, sir," said the colonel,
pressing him down into his seat. " I would not have lost the
animated description you have just given me, uttered as it was
in such perfect fraxJaess, for any consideration, least of all at
252 THE MARLINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
the small price of hearing- a public expression on a public ir an'a
conduct. Pray, now, continue to use the same frankness, and
tell me anything more that occurs to you about this remarkable
contest."
This appeal, uttered in all the ease of a well-bred manner,
was quite unsuccessful. Mr. Crow sat perfectly horrified with
himself, endeavouring to remember what possible extent of
offence he might have been betrayed into by his narrative. As
for Nelligan, his shame and confusion were even greater still,
and he sat gazing ruefully and reproachfully at the unlucky
painter.
Colonel Massingbred made one or two more efforts to relieve
the awkwardness of the incident, but so palpably fruitless were
the attempts, that he desisted, and arose to take his leave. As
Joe accompanied him to the door, he tried to blunder out some
words of excuse. " My dear Mr. Nelligan," broke in the other
with a quiet laugh, " don't imagine for a moment that I am
offended. In the first place, your friend was the bearer of very
pleasant tidings, for Jack has not condescended to write to me
about his success ; and secondly, public life is such a stern
schoolmaster, that men like myself, get accustomed to rather
rough usage, particularly at the hands of those who do not
know us. And now, as I am very unwilling to include you in
this category, when will you come and see me? What day will
you dine with me ? "
Nelligan blushed and faltered, just as many another awkward
man has done in a similar circumstance; for however an easy
matter for you, my dear sir, with all your tact and social readi-
ness to fix the day it will suit you to accept of an almost
stranger's hospitality, Joseph had no such self-possession, and
only stammered and grew crimson,
" Shall it be on Saturday ? for to-morrow I am engaged to
the Chancellor, and on Friday I dine with his Excellency. Will
Saturday suit you?" asked the colonel.
" Yes, sir, perfectly ; with much pleasure," answered Nelligan.
" Then Saturday be it, and at seven o'clock," said Massing-
bred, shaking his hand most cordially; while Joe, with sorrow-
ful step, returned to his chamber,
" Well, I think I did it there, at all events ! " cried Simmy,
as the other entered. " But what in the name of all that's bare-
faced prevented your stopping me ? Why didn't you pull me
up short before I made a beast of myself? "
" How could I ? You rushed along like a swollen river.
AN AWKWAKD VISITOR. 253
You were so full of your blessed subject, thut you woukln't
heed an interruption ; and as to signs and gestures, I made
twenty without being able to catch your eye."
" I believe I'm the only man living ever does these things,"
said Simmy, 'ruefully. "I lost the two or three people that
used to say they were my friends by some such blundering-
folly as this. I only liojie it won't do yoit any mischief I
trust he'll see that you are not responsible for my delinquen-
cies
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 ray father would have forgiven Massing-
bred so easily," said Joe, in his desire to change the topic.
" Blarney — all blarney !" muttered Crow, with an expressive
movement of his eyebrows.
" Father Neal himself is rather a difficult subject to treat
■with," added Joe.
" Blarney again ! "
" Nor do I think," continued Nelligan, " that the constituency
of the borough, as a body, are remarkable for any special
liability to be imposed on ! "
" Nor would they, had it been an Irishman was trying to
humbug them," said Crow, emphatically. " Take my word for
it — and I've seen a great deal of the world, and perhaps not
the best of it either — but take my word for it, Eng-lish blarney
goes farther 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 ai'e, besides, so accustomed always
to be humbugged with a brogue, that we fancy ourselves safe
when we hear an English accent."
" There's some ingemiity 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 sis."
"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, recommo'-.Tling him for some place or
other. Half of the borough expccb to W in the Treasury, or
254 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
the Post Office, or the Board of Trade, and I was just on the
tip of saying what a set of rapscallions they were. I'm sure I
don't know what saved me from it."
"Your natural discretion, doubtless," said Joe, smiling,
" Just so ; it must have been that ! " replied he, with a sigh.
"You'll breakfast with me to-morrow, Crow, at eight," said
Nelligan, as he parted with him at the door. And Simmj,
having pledged himself to be punctual, hurried off to keep his
dinner appointment.
A DAY "aiieh.'' 256
CHAPTER XXII
A DAT "AFTE B."
The I'eacHon that succeeds to a period of festivity has always
an air of peculiar sadness and gloom about it. The day after a
ball — the withered fiowei's, the faded decoratioDS, the dis-
ordered furniture, all tell the tale of departed pleasure and past
enjoyment. The afternoon of that morning which has wit-
nessed a wedding-breakfast — the April landscape of joy and
grief, the bridal beauty, and the high-beating hope of the happy
iOver, have all fled, and in the still and silent chambers there
seems to brood a sense of sorrow and mourning. Still with
these thoughts happier memories are mingled, the bright
pageant of the past rises again before the mind, and smiles,
and music, and laughter, and graceful forms come back, and
people space with their images. But how different from all
this was the day after the election at Cro' Martin.
For a week had the Marthis condescended to derogate from
their proud station and " play popular " to the electors of
Oughterard. They had opened their most sumptuous apart-
ments to vulgar company, and made guests of those the}'-
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 intimates, 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 ifc
possible could have been effected in ten years. Let us be just,
256 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
and add that my lady had taken the phrase bodily out of her
French vocabulary, and in her ardour applied it with its native
signification : that is, she alluded to the sad consequences of
association with underbred company, and not by any means
to any inroads made upon her sense of honour and high prin-
ciple.
Still, whatever pangs the sacrifice was costing within, it must
be owned that no signs of them displayed themselves on the
outside. Even Repton, stern critic as he was, said that "they
did the thing well." And now it was all ovei', the guests gone,
the festivities ended, the election lost, and nothing in prospect
save to settle the heavy outlay of the contest, and pay the high
price for that excessively dear article which combines conta-
mination with disappointment.
In her capacity of head of the administration, Lady Dorothea
had assumed the whole guidance of this contest. With Miss
Henderson as her private secretary, she had corresponded, and
plotted, and bribed, and intrigued to any extent; and although
Repton was frequently summoned to a council, his advice was
very rarely, if ever, adopted. Her ladyship's happy phrase —
" one ought to know their own borough people better than a
stranger" — usually decided every vexed question in favour of
her judgment.
It is a strange characteristic of human natui-e, that at no
time do people inveigh so loudly against bad faith, treachery,
and so on, as when themselves deeply engaged in some very
questionable enterprise. Now her ladyship had so fully made
up her mind to win in this contest, that she had silenced all
scruples as to the means. She had set out with some comfort-
able 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 in-
vested with a pledge that everything which proper legislation
could do for them would be theirs. 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 opportunity of doing so in a week of such
bustle and excitement. Evei'y day brought with it fresh cares
and ti'oubles; and although Kate Henderson proved herself in-
valuable in her various functions, her ladyship's fatigues and
exertions were of the reatest.
A DAY " AFTER," 257
The ciixy after tlie election, Lady Dorothea kept her bed; the
second day, too, she never made her appeai-ance; and it was
late in the afternoon of the third that she stole languidly into
her library, and ordered her maid to send Miss Henderson to
her.
As Kate entered the room she conld not help feeling struck
by the alteration that had taken place in her ladyship's appear-
ance, and who, as she lay back in a deep chair, with closed
eyes and folded hands, looked like one risen fi-om a long sick-
bed.
As she started and opened her eyes, however, at Kate's
approach, the features assumed much of their wonted expres-
sion, and their haughty character was only tinged, but not sub-
dued, by the look of sorrow they wore. With the low and
pleasant voice which Kate possessed in perfection, she had
begun to utter some words of pleasure at seeing her ladyship
again, when the other interrupted her hastily, saying, —
" I want you to read to me, child. There, take that volume
of Madame de Sevigne, and begin where you see the mark.
You appear weak to-day — tired perhaps ? "
" 01), a mere passing sense of fatigue, my lady," said Kate,
assuming her place, and preparing her book.
" Chag-rin, 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 the thought is so embellished by the grace of expres-
sion, that there is a perpetual semblance of originality, without
that strain upon the comprehension that real novelty exacts.
She read, too, with consummate skill. To all the natural gifts
of voice and utterance she added a most perfect taste, and thnt
nicely subdued dramatic feeling which lends to reading its greiit
fascination. Nearly an hour had thus passed, and not a word
nor a gesture from Lady Dorothea interrupted the reader. With
slightly drooped-eyelids, ^she sat calm and ti-anquil ; and ;i.>
Kate, at moments, stole a passing glance towards her, she could
not guess whether she was listening to her or not,
"You'd have succeeded on the stage, Miss Henderson," saiil
she at length, raising her eyes slowly, " Did it never occur lo
you to think of that career?"
"Once I had some notion of it, my lady," said Kate, quietly.
*' I played in a little jDrivate theatre of the Duchess's, and thej
thousht that I had some dramatic ability,"
18
2ofc. THE MARTINS OF CKO' MAKTIN.
" People of condition have turned nctors lailei'l\' — ir^cii, of
course, I nican; for women the ordeal is too severe — the coarse
familiari lJ of a very coarse class — the close association v/ith
most inferior natures By the way, what a week of it we
have liad ! I'd not have believed any one who told nio tliat the
whole globe contained as much unredeemed vulgarity as tin's
little neighbourhood. What was the name of the od'.oas little
woman that always lifted the skirt of her dress before sitting
down ?"
"Mrs. Creevy, my lady "
"To be sure — Mrs. Creevy. And her fiieud, who always
came with her ? "
" Miss Busk "
" Yes, of coui'se — Miss Busk, of the Emporium. If I don't
mistake, I've given her an order for something — bonnets, or
caps — what is it ? "
"A head-dress. Your ladyship told her "
"You'll make me ill, child — positively ill — if you remind mo
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
liumiliating- incident of my life."
Kate resumed her book, and read on. Lady Dorothea was
now, however, unmistakably inattentive, and the changing
colour of h.er cheek betrayed the various emotions which moved
her.
"I really fancy that Miss Martin liked the atrocious creatures
we have received here the past week ; she certainly showed
them a species of attention quite distinct from mere acceptance;
and then they all addressed her like old acquaintance. Did you
observe that ? "
" I thought that they assumed a degree of familiarity with
Miss Martin which was scarcely consistent with their station."
" Say highly ridiculous, child — perfectly preposterous — for,
although she will persist in a style of living very opposite to
the requirements of her position, she is Miss Martin, and my
niece ! "
There was now a dead pause of some seconds. At length
hei- ladyship spoke :
" To h.ave been beaten in one's own town, where we own every
stick and stone in the place, reall}'' requires some explanation;
and the more I reflect ujion it, tlie more mysterious does ifc
seem. Rjpton, indeed, had much to say to it. He is so indis-
creet — eh, don't you think so?"
A DAY "after.'* 259
" He is veiy vain of liis conversational powers, my lady, and,
like all clever talkers, says too mncli."
" Just so. Bat 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 ladyshijD went on :
"In the first place, everybody — in sociotj'', I mean — knows
every story that can or ought to bo told ; and, secondly, a narra-
tive always interrupts conversation, which is a game to be
played by several."
Kate nodded slightly, as though to accord as much acqui-
escence as consorted with gi-eat deference.
" It is possible, therefore," resumed her ladyship, " that he
may have divulged many things in that careless way he talked ;
and my niece, too, may have been equally silly. In fact, one
thing is clear, the enemy acquired a full knowledge of our
tactics, and met every move we made by another. I was pre-
pared for all the violence, all the insult, all the licentious im-
pertinence 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 e^'^es sparkled, and it was in a
voice of more than ordinary energy she said, " If they fancj,
however, that we shall accept defeat with submission, they are
much mistaken. They have declared the war, and it shall not
be for them to proclaim peace on the day they've gained a vic-
tory. 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. mj lady, in part; some details are wanting, but there
are eighteen cases here quite perfect."
"These are all cottiers — pauper tenants," said Lady Doro-
thea, scanning the paper superciliously through her eye-glass.
" Not all, my lady ; liere, for instance, is Dick Sheehan, the
blacksmith, who has worked for the Castle twenty-eight years,
and who holds a farm called Mullanahogue ou a termi*»CiijJ«
lease."
" And he voted against us?" broke she i-i.
"Yes; and made a very violent speech, too"
18— i«
2G0 TILE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN,
" 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 hei'e 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 Barnag;heela, 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 bad been
that day enacted would never have occurred ! Who is this
Hosey Lynch ? His name is so familiar to me,"
" He is a postmaster of Oughterard, and a kind of factotum
in the town."
" Then make a note of him. He must be dismissed at once."
" He is not a freeholder, my lady, but only mentioned as an
active agent of the Liberal party,"
" Don't adopt that vulgar cant, Miss Henderson — at least,
when speaking to me. They are not — they have no pretensions
to be called the Liberal party. It is bad taste as well as bad
policy to apply a flattering epithet to a faction."
"What shall I call them in future, my lady?" asked Kate,
with a most admirably assumed air of innocence.
" Call them Papists, Radicals, Insurgents — anything, in fact,
which may designate the vile principles they advocate. You
mentioned Mr. Nelligan, and I own to you I felt ill — positively
ill — at the sound of his name. Just to think of that man's in-
gratitude — base ingratitude. It is but the other day his son
was our guest here — actually dined at the table with us ! You
were liere. You saw him yourself!"
" Yes, my lady," was the quiet reply,
" I'm sure nothing could be more civil, nothing more polite,
than our recci^tion of him. I talked to him myself, and asked
him something — I forget what — about his future prospects, and
8ee if this man, or his father — for it matters not which — is not
A DAY "after." 261
the ringleader of tins same movement ! I tell you, child, and
I really do not say so to hurt your feelings, or to aggravate
your natural regrets at your condition in life, but I say it as a
great moral lesson — that low people are invariably deceitful.
Perhaps they do not always intend it; perhaps — and very pro-
bably, 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 Caiferty, my lady, who lives at Bi'oguestown," said
Kate, reading from the list, " scuds a petition to your ladyship,
entreating forgiveness if he should have done anything to cause
displeasure to the family."
" What did he do ? that is the question.'*
" He carried a banner inscribed ' Down with Monopoly ! ' "
" jMark him for eviction. I'll have no half measures. Miss
Martin has brought the estate to such a pass, that we may
draw the rents, but never as^sire to the influence of our property.
These people shall now know their real masters. Who is that
knocking at the door? — Come in."
And at this summons, uttered in a voice not peculiar for
suavity, Mr. Henderson entered, bowing profoundly, and smooth-
ing the few gloss}'- hairs that streaked rather than covered his
bald head. A momentary glance passed between the father and
daughter; so fleeting, however, was it, that the most sharp-
eyed observer could not have detected its meaning. Lady Doro-
thea was too deeply occupied with her own thoughts to waste
a second's consideration on either of them, and promptly
said,
"I want you, Henderson, to iufoi'm me who are the chief joer-
sons who have distinguished themselves in this outrageous
insult to us in the borough."
Mr. Henderson moved from one foot to the other, once more
stroked down his hair, and seemed like a man suddenly called
upon to enter on a very unpleasant and somewhat difficult task.
"Perhaps you don't like the office, sir?" said she, hastily.
*' Perhaps your own principles are opposed to it?"
" Na, my leddy," said he deferentially, " I ha' nae principles
but such as the family sanctions. It's nae business o* mine to
profess poleetical opinions."
"Very true, sir — very just; you comprehend your station,"
replied she, proudly. "And now to my demand. Who are the
heads of this revolt? — for it is a revolt!"
"It's nae sa much a revolt, my leddy," rejoined he, slowly
262 THE MARTiXS OF CRO' MARTIN.
nnd respectfully, "as the snre and certain consequence of wliat
has been going on for years on the property. I did my best, by
■warning, and indeed by thwarting, so far as I could, tliese 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. Ah, my leddy, a
vara dangerous practice this same habit of reflaction is, to folk
who wear ragged clothes and dine on potatoes!"
" I apprehend that the peril is not felt so acutely in your own
country, sir ! "
" Vara true, my leddy; your remark is vara just; but there's
this difference to be remembered : the Scotch are canny folk,
and we do many a thing that mightn't be safe for others, but
we take care never to do them ower much,"
"I don't want your philosophising, 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,
followed 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 Dorotliea, sternly.
•Tm vara sorry for it, my leddy j I don't deserve them," was
the calm veply.
Had Lady Dorothea been quick-sighted she might have
detected a glance which the dauf^'htsr directed towards her
father; but she had been more than quick-minded if she
could have read its meaning', so strange was the expression
it bore,
" In plain words, sir, do you know the offenders ? and if so,
how can we punish them ? "
" Your leddyship has them all there," said he, pointing to
the list on the table ; " but there's nae sa much to be done wi'
them, as the chief o' the lot are men o' mark and means, wi'
plenty o' siller, and the sperit to spend it."
"I hear of nothing but defaulters till a moment like this
arrives, sir," said her ladyship, passionately. "The burden of
"xi
A DAY "aftek." 2G3
every song is arrears of rent; and now I nm told tlir.t the
tenantry are so prosperous, that they can afford to defy their
landlord. Explain this, sir!"
Before Mr. Henderson had completed that hesitating process
which with him was the prelude to an answer, the door opened,
and Mary Martin entered. She was in a riding-dress, and bore
the traces of the road on her splashed costume; but her features
wei'e paler than usunl, and her lip quivered as she spoke.
"My dear aunt," cried she, not seeming to notice that others
were present, "I have come back at speed from Kylu's Wood to
learn if it be true — but it cannot be true — however the poor
creatures there believe it — that they are to be discharged from
work, and no more employment given at tlie quarries. Yen
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 ujoon an unknown shore t])au
fathers and mothers beside their own homesteads! "
"It was I gave the order, Miss Martin," said Lady Dorothea,
proudly. " If these people prefer political agitation to an honest
subsistence, let them pay the price of it."
" But who says that they have done so ? " replied Mary.
"These poor creatures have not a single privilege to exercise;
they haven't a vote amongst them. The laws have forgotten
them just as completely as human charity has."
"If they have no votes to record, they have voices to outrage
and insult their natural protectors. Henderson knows that the
worst mobs in the borough were from this very district."
"Let him give the names of those he alludes to. Let him
tell me ten — five — ay, three, if he can, of Kyle's Wood men
who took any shai'e in the disturbances. I am well aware that
it is a locality where he enjoys little popularity himself; but at
least he need not calumniate its people. Come, sir, who ai'e
these you speak of ? "
Kate Hendcrnon, who sat with bent-down head during this
speech, contrived to steal a glance at the speaker so meaningful
and so supplicating, that Mary faltered, and as a deep blush
covered her cheek, she hastily added, "But this is really not the
question. This miserable contest has done us all harm ; but let
us not perpetuate its bitterness! We have been beaten in an
election, but I don't think we ought to be worsted in a struggle
of generosity and good feeling. Come ovei', dear aunt, and see
these poor creatures."
2dl< THE MAIiTiXS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" I shall certainly do no sucli thing-, Miss ^lartin. 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
r.uj 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 indepen-
dence 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
th'.iir cup of sorrow."
"The young leddy says na mare than the fact; they're vara
poor, and they're vara dangerous ! "
"How do you mean dangerous, sir?" asked Lady Dorothea,
hastily.
" There's more out o' that barony at the assizes, my leddy,
than from any other on the property."
" Starvation and crime are near relatives all the world over,"
said Mary ; " nor do I see that the way to cure the one, is to
increase the other."
" Then let us get rid of both," said Lady Doi-othea. "I don't
see why we are to nurse pauperism either into fever or rebellion.
To feed people that they may live to infect you, or, perhaps,
shoot you, is sorry policy. You showed me a plan for getting
rid of them, Henderson — something about throwing down their
filthy hovels, or unroofing them, or something of that kind, and
then they were to emigrate — I forget where — to America, I
believe — and become excellent people, hard-working and quiet.
I know it all sounded plausible and nice ; tell Miss Martin your
f^cheme, and if it does not fulfil all you calculated, it will at least
serve for an example on the estate."
"An example!" cried Mary, "Take care, my lady. It's a
dangerous precept you are about to inculcate, and admits of a
terrible imitation ! "
"Now you have decided me, Miss Martin," said Lady
Dorothea, haughtily.
A DAY "AFTER. ~Oi)
"And, good Heavens! is it for a rasli word of mine — for a
burst of temper that I could not control — j-ou will turn out
upon the wide world a whole village — the old that have grown
grey there — the infant that clings to its mother in her misery,
and makes a home for her by its ver}"- dependence "
" Every one of them, sir," said Lady Dorothea, addressing
herself to Henderson, who had asked some question in a low
whisper. "They're cottiers all; they require no delays of law,
and I insist upon it peremptorily."
" Not till my uncle hears of it ! " exclaimed ^Fary, passionately.
" A cruel wrong like this shall not be done in mad haste." And
with these words, uttered in all the vehemence of great excite-
ment- she rushed from the room in search of ilartio.
266 THE MAUrrXS OF CPvO' JIAKl'IN.
CHAPTER Xiait
A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER.
It rnay save the reader some time, and relievo liim from tliG
weary task of twice listening' to the same story, if we steal
some passages from a letter which, about this time, Jack Mass-
ingbred addressed to his former correspondent. He wrote from
the inn at Oaghterard, and, althongh still under the influence of
the excitement of the late contest, expressed himself with much
of his constitutional calm and frankness. We shall not recapit-
ulate his narrative of the election, but proceed at once to what
followed on that description.
" I see, Plarry, the dubious projection of your nether lip, I
appreciate the slow nod of your head, and I fancy I can hear
the little half sigh of depi^ecation 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 liavG 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 befcl, it was honour to fight; I have
given up association with the well-bred and the well-maimered,
to rub shoulders with the coarse-minded, the rough-hearted, and
the vulgar. There is not a reproach j'ou can make me on this
score that I haven't already addressed to myself I feel all the
indignity of my situation — I experience all the insult of their
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 ray party. I don't talk to ijoa about
A CIIAPACTEKISi'IC LETl'ER. 20'/
their prlnciplos—stlU less do I sny anything of my own — bat
merely advert here tc 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 corapaign, in which he served as a volunteer —
' So long as you were fighting,' said he, 'it was all very well;
the fellows were stont-hearted and full of spirit, and you felt
that you couldn't ask for better comrades ; but when the struggle
was over — when it came to associating, living with them, hear-
ing their sentiments, sharing their opinions, hopes, fears, wishes,
and so on — then it became downright degradation ! ' Not, as
he remarked, that they were one jot more vicioiis or more
corrupt than their betters, but that every vice and every
corruption amongst them seemed doubly offensive by the con-
tact with their coarse natures. ITow, 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
perjui-e themselves just like gentlemen ; or rather better of the
two. They even come down handsomely with their cash — the
last best evidence any man can tender of his honesty in a cause ;
but then, Harry, the struggle over, it is sorry work to become
their companion and their friend ! Oh ! if you had but seen
the dinners I have eaten, and the women I have handed down
to them ! — if you could have but heard the sentiments I have
cheered-^-ay, and even uttered — only listened to the projects we
have discussed, and the plans matured as we sat over our
whisky-punch — you'd say, 'Jack must have the ambition of the
Evnl 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 v/orld that the operation of
the Relief Bill will not be of that exclusive character its oppo-
nents proclaimed — that a Catholic constituency would choose a
Protestant — even pi'efer one — as Mr. O'Connell said. The op-
portunity was a good one to display this sentiment, and so they
took me! Now, my notion is, that every great measure can
Lave only one real importance, by throwing weight into tlie
268 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
scale of one or other of tlie two great Pai-liamentary parties.
Do what you will — agitate, write, speak, pamphleteer, and libel
— but all resolves itself to some question of a harm to one side
and good to the other, the country, the while, being wonderfully
little the better or the worse for all the legislation. We used
to have a Constitution in England : we have now only got a
Parliament, and to be anything in the nation a man must make
himself felt there! This, 'if I have the stuff in me,' as old
Sherry said, I mean to do — et nous verrons !
" The fatigues of this new life are very great. I'm up before
it is well day, writing and revising- newspaper articles, answering
letters, and replying to ' queries.' I have my whole mornings
taken up in audiences of my constituents, swallowing pledges,
and recording promises ; and later on I go to dinner, ' with
what appetite I may,' to some one of my faithful supporters — ■
some corn-chandler who spouts ' foreign politics,' or a grocer
who ought to be Colonial Secretary ! But still I'm thankful
for all this bustle and occupation : it averts reflection, it raises a
barrier against thought, and muffles the clapper of that small
hand-bell in the human heart men call their conscience! They
say few men would have courage for either a battle or a wedding
if it were not for the din of the trumpets and the joy-bells;
and I'm convinced that noise — mere noise — has no small share
in determining the actions of mankind !
"And now, Harry, for a confession. I'm heartily sorry for
the whole of this business, and were it to be done again, nothing
would tempt me to play the same part in it. I was leading the
jolliest life imaginable at Cro' Martin. I had made the place
and the peoj^le my own. It was a kind of existence that suited
me — sufficient of occupation, and enough of leisure. There
wei-e oddities to laugh at, eccentricities to quiz, an old lawyer to
sharpen one's wits upon, and a governess — such a governess to
flirt with ! Don't mistake me, Harry ; it was not one of those
hand-pressing, downcast-gazing, low-speaking cases in which
you are such a proficient. It was far more like the approaches
one might be supposed to make to a young tigress in a cage — a
creature with whom a mistake would be your ruin, and whom
you always caressed with a sense of impending peril.
" I told you how ably she aided me in this contest — how she
laboured 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 apjoear to bear any
grudge against the Martins — she had been but a few weeks
A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER. 2G9
amongst them — find is, all things considered, well ti'eated and
well received. As little was it any special favour towards my-
self. 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 u}) as she has been
— and as I have told you in my last letter — nothing would be
more natural than her adopiion of every prejudice of the class
by whom she has been so singularly distinguished ; and in this
light I have always viewed her. Under the calm reserve of a
most polished manner you can still detect a shrinking horror of
all the vulgar association of the rank she came from. Her
quiet deference — haughtier by far than the domination of those
above her — the humility that no flatteries ever breached — a self-
possession that never seemed so strong as when resisting the
blandishments of praise, — these ai-e strange gifts in a young*
girl with beauty enough to turn half the heads of ha.t the fools
we know of, and more than enough to make crazy that of him
who writes this.
" I tried twenty things to tesist this tendency on ray ^lart. I
laughed at myself for the absurdity it would lead to. I ridiculed
to my own heart all the extravagance of such a project. I
even wrote a paragraph for the Times, announcing the mai'riage
of Jack Massingbred with Kate Henderson, the only daughter
of Paul Henderson, the Land Steward, and pasted it above my
chimney to shock and outrage me. I did more. I made love
to J\Iiss Martin — as an alterative, as the doctors would call it —
but I fell at a stone wall, got laughed at, and cured of my
passion ; and lastly, I climbed that lofty tree of my family, and
sat high among the branches of defunct barons and baronets,
to get a bird's-eye view of the small mushrooms that grow on
the earth beneath, but hang me, Harry, if the agarics didn't
seem better company, and I was glad to get down among'st
them again, meaning thereby to sit beside that one dear speci-
men 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 scat in Parliament will embarrass rather than serve him with
his party, since he will be expected to couti'ol a vote over which
he can exert no influence.
270 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAKTI^\
" As 3'et, nothing has occai'rcd to draw tis any closer, and my
only communications to him have been certain recommendatory
letters, which my constituents here have somewhat peremptorily
demanded at ray hands. I gave them freely, for, after all,
application is an easier task than refusing", and besides, Harry,
it is very difficult to persuade your election friends that you
cannot be a. patriot and a patron at the same time, and that, ia
the luxurious pastime of badgering a government, a man sur-
renders some of the pretensions to place, I gave them, there-
fore, all the letters they asked for ; and if the Chief Secretary
but answer one-half of my appeals, Galway — or at least that
small portion of it called Oughterard — will have no cause of
complaint on the score of its claims to office.
" You ai'e, I perceive astonished that I continue to remain
here. So am I, Harry. The place is detestable in almost
every way. I am beset with entreaties, persecuted with vulgar
attentions, bored to death by the insolent familiarity of people
I cannot — do all that I will — grow intimate with ; and yet I
stay on, pretexting this, that, and t'other to myself, and shrink-
ing 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 an}^ ingeimity I could discover the mystery
of her conduct with regard to raj^self ; 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 woi'ds to acknowledge their re-
ceipt. The Martins, since the election, seem to have quaran-
tined the whole town and neighbourhood. 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 wealth of
the rich proprietor. But I am again drifting into that tiresome
tideway of politics which I have sworn to myself to avoid, if
only for a few days; in pursuance of which wise resolve T shall
betake myself to the mountains, under the pretext of shooting.
A gun is an idler's passport, and a game-bag and a shot-pouch
are sufficieut to throw a dignity over vagabondism. You will
A aURACXERISTlC LEITEK. 271
tlierefore divine tliat I am not bent on snipe slaagliter, but
simply a good excuse to be alone !
" I mean to go to-morrow, and shall first turn my steps to-
wards the coast, which, so far as I have seen, is singularh- bold
and picturesque. If nothing occurs to alter my determination,
I'll leave this unclosed till I can tell you that I have come back
here, which in all probability will bo by the end of the week.
*******
" Once more here, my dear Hariy, I sit down to add a few
lines to this already over lengthy epistle. Wishing to give you
some notion of the scenery, I set out with all the appliances of
a sketcher, and have really contrived to jot down some spots
which, for general wildness and grandeni", it would be difficult
to surpass within the bounds of our country. Nor is it alone the
forms that are so striking, although I could show you outlines
hei-e 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 pui'ple and gold such as no diadem ever equalled.
The sunsets, too, were gorgeous ! You remember how struck
we both were at the moment when the dome and aisle of St.
Peter's burst into light, and from the darkness of midnight
every column and every statue became illuminated in a second,
but a thousand times beyond this in grandeur of effect was the
moment of the sun's decline below the horizon. The instant
before, the great sullen sea was rolling and heaving with its
leaden blue surface, slightly traced here and there with foam,
but no sooner had the sun touched the horizon, than a flood of
pm'ple 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, dark-
some and dismal but a moment back, were now all glitterino-
and glowing, every pinnacle and every peak in deep carbuncle
red. How suggestive to him who would describe an enchanted
land or region of magic splendour ! and what a hint for your
scene-painter, who, with all his devices of Bengal and blue
light, with every trick that chemistry and optics could aid in,
never fancied anything so splendid or so gorgeous.
"I have half-filled a sketch-book for j^ou, and more than half,
filled my game-bag with mosses and ferns, and such like gear,
which, knowing your weakness, I have gathered, but, not under-
standing their virtues, may, for aught I know, be the com-
monest tilings in creation. I can only vouch for their beino-
2/2 THE MAr.TINS OF CKO MART1^'.
Tciy beantiful, and very unlike anything- else I ever saw before;
frag'ments of marble, too, and specimens of Irish jasper and
onyx, are amidst my rubbish, or my treasures, whichever you
shall pronounce them to be.
" I got through — don't fancy that the phrase denotes weari-
ness or ennui — I got thi'ough four days in these pursuits, and
then I took boat, and for three more I paddled about the coast,
dipping in amongst the cliffs, and creeks, and caves of thi3
wonderful coast, g'athering shells and seaweed, and shooting'
curlews and eating lobsters, and, in fact, to all intents and pur-
poses, suffering a 'sea change' over myself and my spirit as
unearthlike as well may be imagined; and at last I bethought
me of my new opening career, and all that I ought to be doing
in preparation of St. Stephen's, and so I turned my steps land-
ward, and towards ' my borough.' I like to say ' my borough,'
it sounds feudal, and insolent, and old Tory-like ; it smacks of
the day when people received their representative thankfully,
as an alms, and your great proprietor created his nominee as
the consul ennobled his horse !
"Revolving very high thoughts, reciting Edmund Burke's
grandest perorations, and pictui'ing very vividly before me the
stunning triumphs of my own eloquence in the House, I plodded
along, this time at least wonderfully indifferent to the scenery,
and totally oblivious of where I was, when suddenly I per-
ceived the great trees of Cro' Martin demesne shadowing the
road T travelled, and saw that I was actually within a mile or
so of the Castle ! You, Harry, have contrived, some way or
other, to have had a veiy 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 bland-
ishments on — a devilish lucky fellow! Lucky in a capital
fortune, abundance of good gifts, good looks, and an iron con-
stitution — one of those natures that can defy duns, blue-devils,
and dyspepsia ! Being, therefore, all this, well received ever^'-
where, good company where pheasants are to be shot, Bur-
gvmdy to be drunk, or young ladies to be married — for you aro
a good shot, a good wine-tastei*, and a good ' parti ' — with such
gifts, I say, it will be very difficult to evoke your sympathy on
the score of a misfortune which no effort of your iinagination
A CHARACTERISTIC LETTER. 273
could compass. In fact, to ask you to feel what I did, as I
found myself walking along outside of those grounds within
■which, but a few days back, I was the cherished visitor, and in
sight of that smoke which denoted a hearth beside which I was
never to sit again, and from which I was banished with some-
thing not very unlike disgrace ! No sophistry I could summon
was sufficient to assuage the poignancy of this sentiment. I
feel certain that I could stand any amount of open public abuse,
any known or unknown quantity of what is 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 reserve that saved it from mention, caused me
unutterable bitterness, and it was in a state of deep humilia-
tion of spirit that I took the very first path that led across the
fields and away from Cro' Martin.
" They tell me that a light heart makes easy work of a day's
journey. Take my word for it, that to get over the ground
without a thought of the road, there's nothing like a regular
knock-down affliction. I walked eight hours, and at a good
pace, too, without so much as a few minutes' halt, so over-
whelmed was I with sensations that would not admit of my
remembering anything else. My first moment of consciousness
— for really it was such — came on as I found myself breasting
a steep stony ascent, on the brow of which stood the bleak re-
sidence of my friend Mr. Magennis, of Barnagheela. I have
already told you of my visit to his house, so that I need not
inflict you with any new detail of the locality, but I confess,
little as it promised to cheer or rally the spirits, I was well
pleased to find myself so near a roof under which I might take
refuge. I knocked vigorously at the d or, but none answered
my summons. I repeated my demand for admittance still more
loudly, and at last went round to the back of the house, which
I found as rigidly barred as the front. While still hesitating
what course to take, I spied Joan Landy — you remember the
girl I spoke of in a former letter — ascending the hill at a brisk
pace. In a moment I was beside her. Poor thing, she seemed
overjoyed at our meeting, and warmly welcomed me to her house.
'Torn 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 sc«
as yourself when he comes.' In the world, Harry — that is, in
your w.orld and mine — such a proposition as Joan's would have
its share of embarrassments. Construe it how one might, there
would be at least some awkwardness in accepting such hos-
19
274 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
pitality. So I certainly felt, it, and, as we walked along, rather
turned the conversation towards herself, and whither she had
been.
" ' I'm not more than half an hour out of the house," said
she, ' for I only went down the boreen to show the short cut by
Kell Mills to a young lady that was here.'
" ' A visitor, Mrs. Joan ? '
" ' Yes. But to be sure you know her yourself, for you came
with her the day she walked part of the way back with me
from Ci'o' 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. Pei'haps
the tone of my last was most urgent, for it was to that she
replied, by pointing to a glen between two furze-clad hills, and
saying, ' That's the road she's taking, till she crosses the ford at
Coomavaragh.'
" ' And she is alone ? '
" ' That she is ; sorra a one with her, and she has five good
miles before her.'
"I never waited for more; if I did say good-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.
"You who have so often bantered me on the score of my
languor — that ' elegant lassitude,' as you used to call it, which
no zeal ever warmed, nor any ardour ever could excite, would
have been somewhat astonished had you seen the reckless, head-
long pace at which I went, vaulting over gates, clearing fences,
and dashing through swamps, without ever a moment's hesita-
tion. Picture to yourself, then, my splashed and heated con-
dition, 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 lier, she turned sud-
denly round, and in an instant we stood face to face. I'd have
given much to have seen some show of confusion, even embar-
rassment, 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 :
A CnARACTERISTIC LETTER. 275
"'Good morning, Mr. Massiugbrcd. Have you had mucli
sport ? '
" ' My cliaso was after you, Miss Henderson,' said I, Imrriedly.
*I just reached Barnagheela as Mistress Joan returned, and
having learned which road you took, followed you in all haste.'
" 'Indeed! ' exclaimed she, and in a voice wherein there were
blended a vast variety of meanings.
" ' Yes,' I resumed ; ' for an opportunity of meeting you
alone — of speaking with you even for a few moments — I have
delayed my departure this week back. I wrote to you twice.'
" ' Yes ; I got your letters.'
" ' But did not deign to answer them.'
"'I did not write to you, because, situated as I was, and
regarded as yoii, were at Cro' Martin, there would have been a
species of treason in maintaining anything like correspondence,
just as I feel there is somewhat akin to it in our intercourse at
this moment.'
'"And have the events occurring lately changed your feeling
with regard to me? ' asked I, half reproachfully.
"'I don't exactly know to what former condition you refei',
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' JJartin,
and continued only so long as you remained such.'
"'Then I have deceived myself, Miss Henderson,' broke I in.
'I had fi^ncied that there was a personal good-will in the aid
you tendered me. I even flattered myself that I owed my
success entirely and solely to your efforts.'
" ' You are jesting, Mr. Massingbred,' said she, with a saucy
smile; ' no one better than yourself knows how to rely upon his
own abilities.'
" 'At least, confess that it was you who first suggested to me
that they were worth cultivating ; that it was yoio who pointed
out a road to me in life, and even promised me your friendship
as the price of my worthily adopting it ! '
"'I remember the conversation you allude to. It was on
this very road it occurred.'
" ' Well, and have I done anything as yet to forfeit the reward
you spoke of ? '
"'AH this is beside the real question, Mr. Massingbi-ecl,' said
she, hurriedly. ' What you are really curious to learn is, why
it is that I, being such as I am, should have displayed so much
19— «
276 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
zeal in a cause which could not but have been opiDosed 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 ycu
understand it. I don't want to talk riddles — enough that I say
it was a caprice.'
" ' And yet you talked seriously, persuasively to me, of my
future road in life ; you made me think that you saw in me the
qualities that win success.'
" ' You have a wonderful memory for trifles, sir, since you can
recal so readily what I said to you.'
" ' But it was not a trifle to ine,' said I.
" ' Perhaps not, Mr. Massingbred, since it refeiTed to yourself.
I don't mean this for impertinence ! '
'"I am glad that you say so ! ' cried I, eagerly, ' I am but
too hajjpy 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 Hender-
son to tell me whether she is dissatisfied with anything I may
have done in this contest ? There may be matters in which I
have been misrepresented ; others, of which I could make some
explanation.'
"'Are you quite satisfied with you yourself, sir?' said she,
interrupting me.
" ' No,' said I ; "so little am I so, that were it all to do over
again, I'd not embai-k in it. The whole afiair, from beginning
to end, is a false position.*
" ' Ignoble associates — low companionships — very underbred
acquaintances,' said she, in a tone of scorn that seemed far more
directed at me than the others. I believe I showed how I felt
it. I know that my cheek was on fire for some seconds after.
'"The Martins, I take it, are outrageous with me?' said I,
at last.
" ' They never speak of you ! ' was the reply.
"'Not my lady?'
"'No!'
" ' Nor even Repton ? *
" ' Not once.'
" 'That, at least, is more dignified; and if any accident should
bring us together in county business *
" ' Which is not likely.'
"'How so?' asked 1.
*' * They are going away soon.*
A CHAKACTERISTIC LETPER. 277
" ' Going away — to leave Ci'o' Martin — and for any time ? '
" ' My lady speaks of the continent, and that, of course, im-
plies a long- absence.'
" ' And has this miserable election squabble led to this resolve ?
Is the neighbourhood to be deprived of its chief ornament —
the people of their best frieud — just for sake of a petty party
triumph ? '
" ' It is fortunate Mr. Massingbred's constituents cannot hear
him,' said she, laughing.
" ' But he serious, and tell me how far am I the cause of all
this ? '
" ' The whole cause of it — at least, so far as present events
can reveal.'
" ' How they must abhor me ! * said I, half involuntarily.
"'Avec les circonstances attenuantes,' said she, smiling
again.
" ' Hov/ so ? — what do you mean ? '
" ' Why, that my lady is thankful at heart for a good ex-
cuse to get away — such a pretext as Mr. Martin himself
cannot oppose. Repton, the Grand Vizier, counsels economy,
and, like all untravelled people, fancies France and Italy
cheap to live in ; and Miss Mary is, perhaps, not sorry, with
the prospect of the uncontrolled management of the whole
estate.'
" 'And is she to live here alone? *
'"Tes; she is to be sole mistress of Cro' Martin, and with.,
out even a governess, since Miss Henderson is to accompany her
ladyship as private secretary, minister of the household, and, in
fact, any other capacity you may please in flattery to assign her.
And now, Mr. Massingbred, that I have, not over-discreetly,
perhaps, adventured to talk of family arrangements to a
straugex', will you frankly acknowledge that your pride, or
self-love, or any other quality of the same nature, is rather
gratified than otherwise at all the disturbance you have caused
here? Don't you really feel pleased to think that you have
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 answei'. Indeed, the quere itself is its own reply,*
said I.
" ' Well "said, sir, and with consummate temper, too. Ger-
278 THE MALTIXS OF CRO' MAETm.
tainly, Mr, Massingbred, you possess one great element of
success in public life.'
" ' Which is '
" ' To bear with equanimity and cool forbearance the imper-
tinences of those you feel to be your inferiors.'
" ' But it is not in this light I regard Miss Henderson, be
assured,' said T, Avith 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 ex-
pression 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 rhapsody, jjon^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 with noble thoughts and high
aspirations.
"A judge never listened to a pleading with more dignified
patience than she did to my appeal. She even waited when I
had concluded, as it were to allow of my continuing, had I been
so minded; when, seeing that I had closed my argument, sho
quietly turned about, and faciag the road we had just been
travelling, pointed to the bleak, bare mountain on which
Barnaghecla stood. 'ItAvas yonder, then, that you caught up
this lesson, sir. The admirable success of Mr. Magcnuis's ex-
periment has seduced you!*
" ' Good Heavens, Kate," cried I
" * Sir,' said she, drawing herself proudly up, * you are con-
tinuing the pai'allel too fai-,'
*' ' But Miss Henderson cannot for a moment believe '
"'I can believe a great deal, sir, of what even Mr. Massing-
bred would class with the incredible ; but, sir, there are certain
situations in life wliich exact deference, from the very fact
of their humility. Mine is one of these, and I am aware
of it.'
A CIIARACIERISTIC LETTER. 279
" ' Will you not understand me aright ? ' cried I eagerly. ' lu
offering to share my fortune iu life with you '
'"Pray, sir, let this stop here. Poor Joan, I have no doubt,
felt all the grandeur of her elevation, and was grateful even in
her misery. But I should not do so. I am one of those who
think that the cruellest share in a mesalliance is that of the
humbler victim. To brave such a fate, there should be all the
hopeful, sanguine sense of strong affection; and, as a reserve to
fall back on in reverses, there should be an intense conviction
of the superiority over others of him from whom we accept
our inferiorit}'. Now, in my case, these two conditions are
wanting. I knoAV you like frankness, and I am frank.'
" 'Even to cruelty,' said I.
" ' We are very near Cro' Martin, sir, and I think we ought
to part,' said she, calmly.
'"And is it thus you would have us separate? Have I no-
thing to hope from time — from the changes that may come
over your opinions of me ? '
'" Calculate rather on the alterations in your own sentiments,
Mr. Massingbred ; and perhaps the day is not very distant
when you will laugh heartily at yourself for the folly of this
same morning — a folly which might have cost you dearly, sir,
for I might have said. Yes.'
" ' Would that you had.'
" ' Good-by, sir,' said she, not noticing my interruption, ' and
remember that, if I should ever need it, I have a strong claim
on your gratitude. Good-by ! '
" She did not give me her hand at parting, but waved it
coldly towai'ds me as she went. And so she passed the little
wicket, and entered the dark woods of the demesne, leaving me
in a state wherein the sense of bewilderment alone prevailed
over all else.
"I have given you this nai'rative, Harry, as nearly as I can
remember, every step of it ; but I do not ask you to understand
it better than I do, which means, not at all ! Nor will I worry
you with the thousand-and-onc attempts I have made to explain
to myself what I still confess to be inexplicable. I mean to
leave this at once. Would that I had never come here! Write
to me soon ; but no bantering, Harry. Not even my friendship
for you — oldest and best of all my friends — could stand any
levity on this theme. This girl knows me thoroughly, sinco
she comprehends that there is no SO certain way to engage my
affections as to defy them !
280 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
" Write to me, I entreat. Address me at my father's, wliere
I shall be, probably, within a week. Were I to i-ead over what
I have just written, the chances are I should burn the letter;
and so, sans adieu,
"Yours ever,
** Jack Massing beed."
THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY, 281
CHAPTER XXIV.
THREE COACHES AND THEIR C05IPANT.
Three lavge and stately travelling-carriages, heavily laden,
and surrounded with all the appliances for comfort possible,
rolled from under the arched gateway of Cro' Martin. One
eager and anxious face turned hastily to catch a last look at
the place he was leaving, and then as hastily concealing his
emotion with his handkerchief, Mr. Martin sat Jaack in the car-
riage 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."
Roused by the speech, Martin started, and turned again to
the wiudow.
"How handsome those larches are," cried he; "it seems but
yesterday that I planted them, and they are magnificent trees
now."
Her ladyship made no reply, and he went on, half as though
speaking to himself; "The place is in great beauty just now. I
don't think I ever saw it looking so well. Shall I ever see it
again ? " muttered he, in a still lower tone.
" I really cannot think it ought to break your heart Mr
Martin, if I were to say ' No ' to that question," said she,
testily.
" No — no ! " exclaimed he, repeating the word after her ; "not
come back here ! "
"There is nothing to prevent us if we should feel disposed to
do so," replied she, calmly. "I only observed that one could
face the alternative with a good courage. The twenty years
we have passed in this spot are represented to yoiir mind by
more leafy trees and better timber. To me they are written in
282 THE MARTIKS OF CEO' MAETIN.
the dreary memory of a joyless weai-y existence. I detest tlie
place," cried she, passionately, " and for nothing more, that
even on leaving it my spirits are too jaded and broken to feel
the happiness that they ought."
Martin sighed heavily, but did not utter a word.
" So it is," resumed she, " one ever takes these resolutions too
late. What we are doing now should have been done sixteen
or eighteen years ago."
" Or not at all," muttered Martin, but in a voice not meant to
be overheard,
"I don't think so, sir," cried she, catching up his words, "if
only as our protest against the insolence and ingratitude of this
neighbourhood — of these creatures, who have actually been
maintained by us ! It was high time to show them their real
condition, and to what they will be reduced when the influence
of our position is withdrawn."
" If it were only for that we are going away " And he
stopped himself as he got thus far.
" In itself a good and sufficient reason, sir, but I trust there
ai'e others also. I should hope that we have paid our debt to
patriotism, and that a family who have endured twenty years
of banishment, may return, if only to take a passing glance at
the world of civilization and refinement."
" And poor Mary ! " exclaimed Martin, with deep feeling.
"Your niece might have come with us if she pleased, Mr.
Martin. To remain here was entirely her own choice ; not that
I am at all disposed to think that her resolution was not a wise
one. Miss Mary Martin feels very naturally her utter de-
ficiency in all the graces and accomplishmenis which should
pertain to her condition. She appreciates her unfitness for
society, and selects — as I think with commendable discretion —
a sphere much better adapted to her habits."
Martin again sighed heavily.
"To leave any other girl under such circumstances would
have been highly improper," resumed her ladyship ; " but she
is really suited to this kind of life, and perfectly unfit for any
other, and I have no doubt she and Catty Broon will be excel-
lent company for each other."
" Catty loves her with all her heart," muttered Martin. And
her ladyship's lip curled in silent derision at the thought of
such affection. " And, after all," said he, half involuntarily,
"our absence will be less felt so long as Molly stays behind."
" If you mean by that, Mr. jMartin, that the same system of
THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 283
wasteful expenditure is still to continue — this universal employ-
ment sclieme — 1 can only say I distinctly and flatly declare
against it. Even Repton — and I'm sure he's no ally of mine —
agrees with me in pronouncing it perfectly ruinous."
" There's no doubt of the cost of it," said Martin, gravely.
" Well, sir, and what other consideration should weigh with
us? — I mean," added she, hastily, " what should have the same
weight ? The immaculate authority I have just quoted has
limited our personal expenditure for next year to five thousand
pounds, and threatens us with even less in future if the establish-
ment at Cro' Martin cannot be reduced below its present stand-
ard; but I would be curious to know why there is such a thing
as an establishment at Cro' Martin?"
" Properly speaking there is none," said Martin. " Repton
alludes only to the workpeople — to those employed on the
grounds and the gardens. We cannot let the place go to ruin."
"There is certainly no necessity for pineries and forcing-
houses. Your niece is not likely to want grapes in January, or
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 wouldn't hear of keeping
them ; and when Repton tried to persuade her "
"Repton's an old fool — he's worse, he's downright dishonest
— for he actually pi'oposed my paying my maids out of my
miserable pittance of eight hundred a year, and at the same
moment suggests your niece retaining a pack of foxhounds ! "
" Han'iers, my lady."
" I don't care what they're called. It is too insolent."
"You may rely upon one thing," said Martin, with more
firmness than he had hitherto used, "there will be nothing of
extravagance in Mary's personal expenditure. If ever there
was a girl indifferent to all the claims of self, she is that one."
"If we continue this discussion, sir, at our present rate, I
opine that by the time we reach Dublin your niece will have
become an angel."
Martin dropped bis head, and was silent; and although her
284 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
ladyship made two or three other efforts to revive the argument,
be seemed resolved to decline the challenge, and so they rolled
along the road sullen and uncommunicative.
In the second carriage were Rei^ton and Kate Henderson —
an arrangement which the old lawyer flatteringly believed he
owed to his cunning and addi'ess, but which in reality was
ordained by Lady Dorothea, whose notions of rank and pre-
cedence were rigid. Although Repton's greatest tact lay in his
detection of character, he felfc that he could not satisfactorily
affirm he had mastered the difficulty in the present case. She
was not exactly like anything he had met before; her mode of
thought, and even some of her expressions were so different,
that the old lawyer owned to himself, " It was like examining a
witness through an interpreter."
A clever talker — your man of conversational success — is
rarely patient under the failure of his powers, and, not very
unreasonably perhaps, very ready to ascribe the ill -success to
the defects of his hcai-er. They had not proceeded more than
half of the first post ere Repton began to feel the incijiient
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 peoj^le. He tried the
subject of foreign travel, but his own solitary trip to Paris
and Brussels afforded but a meagre experience of continental
life, and he was shrewd enough not to swim a yard out of his
depth. " She must have her weak point, if I could but discover
it," said he to himself " It is not personal vanity, that I see.
She does not want to be thought clever, nor even eccentric, —
which is the governess failing par excellence; — what then can
it be?" With all his ingenuity he could not discover! She
would talk, and talk well, on any theme he started, but always
like one who maintained conversation through politeness and
not interest, and this very feature it was which piqued the old
man's vanity, and irritated his self-love.
When he spoke, she replied, and always svlth a sufficient
semblance of interest, but if he were silent, she never opened
her lips.
" And so," said he, after a longer pause than usual, " j-ou 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,
calfhly. " I don't suppose that the post-horses there have any
THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPA'.sY. 285
strong' preference for one road above another, if tlicy be both
equally level and smooth."
" There lies the very question," said he ; " for you now admit
that there may be a difference."
" I have never found in reality," said she, "that these differ-
ences v/erc 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 Fi-ench, Mr. Repton, the
language would have come so pleasantly to your aid, and spared
you the awkwai'dness of employing a grand phrase for a small
quality; but ^jiiiy 'philosophy' is simply this: that, to fill a
station whose casualties range from coi;rtesies in the drawing-
room to slights from the servants' hall, one must arm themselves
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 wrong. I should be very proud to captivate
Mr, Repton."
" NoAv we are on the good road at last ! " said he, gaily, " for
Mr. Repton is dying to be captivated."
" The fortress that is only anxioiis to surrender offers no great
glory to the conqueror," replied she.
" By Jove ! I'm glad you're not at the Bar."
" If I had been, I could never have shown the same forbear-
ance as Mr. Repton."
" How so ? What do you mean ? "
"I never could have refused a silk gown, sir; and they tell
me you have done so ! "
" Ah ! they told you that," said he, colouring v.-ith 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."
" Tlieu 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."
286 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARriN.
"By Jove; it is strange to find that a young- lady should
undei'staud one's motives better than an old Minister," said he,
with an evident satisfaction.
"It would be unjust, sir, were I to arrogate any credit to my
own perspicuity in this case," said she, hastily, " for I was aided
in my judgment by what, very probably, never came under the
Minister's eyes."
"And what was that?"
" A little volume which I discovered one day in the library,
entitled 'Days of the Historical Society of Trinity College,'
vsrhereia I found !Mr. Rspton's name not only one of the first in
debate, but the very first in enunciating the great truths of
political liberty. In fact, I might go further and say, the only
one who had the courage to proclaim the great principles of the
French Revolution."
"Ah — yes. I was a boy — a mere boy — very rash — full of
hope — full of enthusiasm," said Repton, with an embarrassment
that increased at every word. " We all took fire from the great
blaze beside us just then ; but, my dear young lady, the flame
has died out — ver}"- fortunately too — for if it hadn't it would
have burned us up with it. We were wrong — wrong with
Burke, to be sure — ' Errare Platoae,' as one may say — but still
wrong'."
" You were wrong, sir, in confoundipg casualties with true
consequences — wrong as a physician would be who abandoned
his treatment from mistaking the symptoms of disease for the
efiects of medicine. You set out by declaring there was a terrible
malady to be treated, and you shrink back afFi'ightcd at the first
results of your remedies; you did worse, you accommodated
your change of principles to party, and from the great champions
of liberty you descended to be — modern Whigs 1 "
" Wliy, what have we here? A Girondist, I verily believe! "
said Repton, looking in her face, with a smile of mingled sui'prise
and amazement.
" I don't much care for the name you may give me, but I am
one who thinks that the work of the French Revolution is sure
of its accomplishment. We shall very probably not do the
thing in the same way, but it will be done, nevertheless ; for an
act of Pai'liament, though not so sjoeedy, will be as effectual as
a 'Noyade,' and a Reforming Administration will work as cleanly
as a Constituent ! "
" But see ; look at France at this moment. Is not society
reconstituted pretty near to the old models? What evidence
THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 287
is there that the prestige of rauk has suffered from the shock of
revolution ? "
" The best evidence. Nobody believes in it — not one. Society-
is I'econstitnted just as a child constructs a card-house to see
how high he can carry the frail edifice before it tumbles. The
people — the true people of the Continent — look at the pageantry
of a Court and a Nobility just as they do on a stage procession,
ai;d criticise it in the same spirit. They endure it so long as
their indolence or their caprice permit, and then, some fine
morning, they'll dash down the whole edifice; and be assured
that the fragments of the broken toy will never suggest the
sentiment to repair it."
" You are a Democrat of the first water ! " exclaimed Reptou,
in half amazement.
"I am simply for the assertion of the truth everywhere and
in everything — in religion and in politics, as in art and literature.
If the people be the source of power, don't divert the stream
into another channel ; and, above ail, don't insist that it should
run up-hill ! Come abroad, Mr. Repton — just come over with
us to Paris — and see if what I am telling j'ou 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."
Repton stai'ed at her in silence, not more amazed at the words
he heard than at the manner and air of her who spoke them ;
for she had gradually assumed a degree of earnestness and
energy which imparted to her features a character of boldness
and determination, such as he had not seen in them before.
"Yes," resumed she, as though following out her own
thoughts, "it is your new creations, your ennobled banker, your
starred and cordoned agitator of the Bourse, who now defends
Lis order, and stands up for the divine right of misrule! The
truly noble have other sentiments ! "
" There's nothing surprises me so much," said Repton, at
last, " as to hear these sentiments from one who has lived sur-
rounded 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
288 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 veiy far out of
the record. I had promised myself to captivate Mr. Repton,
and liere I am, striving to array every feeling of his heart and
every pi^ejudice of bis mind against me."
" It is something like five-and-fifty years since I last heard
such sentiments as you have just uttered," said Repton, gravely.
" I was young and ardent — full of that hopefulness in mankind
which is, after all, the life-blood of Republicanism — and here
I am now, an old, time-hardened lawyer, with very little faith
in any one. How do you suppose that such opinions can chime
in with all I have witnessed in the interval?"
" Come over to Paris, sir," was her reply,
" And I would ask nothing better," rejoined he, " Did I ever
tell you of what Harry Parsons said to Macnatty when he pur-
posed visiting France, after the peace of '15? 'Now is the
time to see the French capital,' said Mac. ' I'll put a guinea in
one pocket and a shirt in the other, and start to-morrow.' — ' Ay,
sir,' said Parsons, ' and never change either till you come back
again ! '"
Once back in his accustomed field, the old lawyer went along
recounting story after story, every name seeming to suggest its
own anecdote. Nor was Kate, now, an ungenerous listener ; on
the contrary, she relished his stores of wit and repartee. Thus
they, too, went on their journey !
The third carriage contained Madame Hortense, Lady Doro-
thea's French maid; Mrs. Runt, an inferior dignitary of the
toilet; and Mark Peddar, Mr. Martin's "Gentleman" — a party
which, we are forced to own, seemed to combine more elements
of sociality than were gathered together in the vehicles that
preceded them. To their shai*e 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 e.scaping 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 ?
THREE COACHES AND TUEIR COMPANY. 289
" Our noble selves," said Mr. Peddar, filling- the ladies' glasses,
and then his own, i'or a very appetising luncheon was there
spread out before them, and four bottles of long-ncckcd grace-
fulness rose from amidst the crystal ruins of a well-filled
ice-pail. " Mam'sellc, 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.
An revoir," added she, waving her hand towards the tall towei3
of Cro'- Martin, just visible above the trees — "an I'cvoir ! "
" Just so — till I see you again," said Mrs. Runt ; " and I'm
sure I'll take good care that day won't come soon. It seems
like a terrible nightmare when I think of the eight long years
I passed there."
" Et moi, twelve! l\Iiladi engage me, so to say, provisoire-
ment, to come to Ireland, but with a promise of travel abroad ;
that we live in Paris, Rome, Naples — que sais-je ? I accept — I
arrive — et me voici ! " And mademoiselle threw back her veil,
the better to direct attention to the ravages time and exile had
made npon her charms.
" Hard lines, ma'am," said Peddar, whose sympathy must not
be accused of an " equivoque," " and here am I, that left the
best single-handed situation in all England, Sir Augustus
Hawleigh's, a young fellow just of age, and that never knew
what money was, to come down here at a salary positively
little better than a country curate's, and live the life of — of —
■what shall I say ? "
"No — the leg, if you please, Mr. Peddar; no more wine.
"Well, just one glasSj to drink a hearty farewell to the old
bouse."
" I'm sure I wish Mary joy of her residence there," said
Peddar, adjusting his cravat; she is a devilish fine girl, and
niiiiht do better, though."
" She has no ambitions — no what you call them ? — no aspira-
tions for 'le grand mondc;' so perhaps she has i^eason to stay
■where she is."
"But with a young fellow of ton and fashion, mam'selle — r-
fellow who has seen life — to guide and bring her out, trust; me
there are excellent capabilities in that girl." And as I\h\
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 iu Mrs. Runt. "I believe, vhen-
20
290 THB MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
ever she bought a o-own, her first thought was what it sTiOi''^<^
turn into when she'd done with it."
" I thought that hi, Henderson might have taught her some-
thing," said Peddar afiectcdly.
" Au contraire — she like to malce the contrast more strong;
she alwaj's seek to make say — ' Regardez, mademoiselle, see
what a tournnre is there ! ' "
"Do you think her handsome, Mr, Peddar?" asked Mrs.
Runt.
"Handsome, yes; hut not mi/ style — not one of wdiat J call
my women; too much of this kind of thing, eh?" And he
drew his head back, and threw into his features an expression of
exaggerated scorn.
" Just so. Downright impudent, I'd call it."
"Not even that," said Mr. Peddar, pondering-; "haughty,
rather — a kind of don't-thiuk-to-come-it-on-me style of look,
eh?"
" Not at all amiable — point de cela," exclaimed mam'selle ;
" but still, I will say, tres bon 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 Rome, the same ;
so, too, at Naples. I assure you that the last time I dined at
Dolgorouki's, I proposed going in the evening t® the Hay-
market, I quite forgot we were on the Neva. And when
Prince Gladuatoffski's g'entleman said, 'Where shall I set you
down ? ' I answered, carelessly, ' At my chambers in the Albany,
or anjMvhere j'our Highness likes near that.' Such is life ! "
exclaimed lie, draining the last of the champagne into his
glass.
"The place will be pretty dull without us, I fancy," said j\[rs.
Runt, looking out at the distant landscape.
" That horrid old Mother Broon won't say so," said Peddar,
laughing. " By Jove ! if it was only to escape that detestable
bag, it's worth while getting away."
" I offer her my hand when I descend the steps, but she refuse
* ffoidemeut,' 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 Mi'S. Runt.
" Ma foi, I was good with all the world ; I was in such joy-
such spirits — that I forgave all and everything, I felt 'nous
sommes en route,' and Paris — dear Paris — before us."
THREE COACHES AND THEIR COMPANY. 291
" My own sentiments to a T," said Mr. Peddar. " Let me
live on the Boulevai'ds, have my cab, my stall at the Opera, two
Naps, per diem for my dinner, and I'd not accept Mary Martin's
hand it' she owned Cro' Martin, and obliged me to live in it."
The speech was fully and warmly acknowledged, other sub-
jects were started, and so they travelled the same road as their
betters, and perhaps with lighter hearts.
20 -i
292 THE MAKTINS OS GKO' MAKTIK.
CHAPTER XXV.
A COUNTRY AUCTION.
With feelings akin to those with which the populace of a
revolted city invade the once sacred edifice of the deposed
prince, the whole town and neighbourhood of Oughterard now
poured into the demesne of Cro' Martin, wandered through the
grounds, explored the gardens, and filled the hoiise. An im-
mense advertisement in the local papers had announced a
general sale of horses and carriages, farming stock, and agri-
cultural implements ; cattle of choice breeding-, sheep of fabu-
lous facilities for fat, and cows of every imaginable productive-
ness, 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 around, had imparted to Cro' Martin a kind of
dreamy splendour in the country, exalting even its well-merited
claims to admiration. Some had seen the grounds, a few had
by rare accident visited the gardens, but the house and the
stables were still unexplored territories, of whose magnificence
each spoke without a fear of contradiction.
Country neighbourhoods are rarely rich in events, and oi
these, few can rival a great auction. It is not alone in the
interests of barter and gain thus suggested, but in the thousand
new channels for thought thus suddenly opened — the altered
fortunes of him whose effects have come to the hammer ; his
death, or his banishment — both so much alike. The visitor
wanders amidst objects which have occupied years in collection:
some, the results of considerable research and difficulty; some,
the long-coveted acquisitions of half a lifetime; and some — we
have known such — the fond gifts of friendship. There they are
A COUNTRY AUCTION. 293
BOW side by side iii the catalogue, their private histories no
more suspected than those of them who lie grass-covered in the
churchyard. You admire that higlil3^-bred hunter in all the
beauty of his symmetry and his strength, but you never think
of the "little Shelty" in the next stable with shaggy mane and
flowing tail ; and yet it was on him the young heir used to ride;
Jie was the cherished animal of all the stud, led in beside the
breakfast-table to be cai-essed and petted, fed with sugar from fair
fingers, and patted by hands a Prince might have knelt to kiss !
His rider now sleeps beneath the marble slab in the old aisle,
and they who once brightened in smiles at the sound of his tiny
trot would burst into tears did they behold that pony!
So, amidst the triumphs of 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. Tou 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 sjiade to tell of the child-gardener who
tilled it.
Ay, this selling-off is a sad pi"ocess ! It bespeaks the disrup-
tion of a home ; the scattering of those who once sat around
the same hearth, with all the dear familiar things about them !
It was a bright spring morning — one of those breezy, cloud-
flitting days, with flashes of gay sunlight alternating with
broad shadows, and giving in the tamest landscape every effect
the painter's art could summon — that a long procession, con-
sisting of all imaginable vehicles, with many on horseback
intermixed, wound their way beneath the grand entrance and
through the park of Cro' Martin. Such an opportunity of
gratifying long pent-up curiosity had never before offered;
since, even when death itself visited the mansion, the habits
of exclusion were not relaxed, but the I\Iartins went to their
graves in the solemn state of their households alone, and were
buried in a little chapel within the grounds, the f^xint tolling of
the bell alone announcing to the world without that one of a
pi'oud house had departed.
The pace of the carriages was slow as they moved along,
their occupants preferring to linger in a scene from which they
had been hitherto excluded, struck by the unexpected beauty of
29-1 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 recal this and that memory;
but all agreed in pronouncing that the demesne was far finer,
the timber better grown, and the fields more highly cultivated
than anything they had ever before seen.
"I call this the finest place in Ireland, Dan!" said Captain
Bodkin, as he rode beside Nelligan's car, halting every now and
then to look around him. " There's everything can make a
demesne beautiful — Avood, water, and mountain ! "
" And, better than all, a fine system of farming," broke in
Nelligan; "that's the best field of 'swedes' I ever beheld! "
" And to think that a man would leave this to go live abroad
in a dirty town in France ! " exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, from the
opposite side of the car. " That's pei'vei'seness indeed ! "
" Them there is all Swiss cows ! " said Mr. Clinch, in an
humble tone.
" Not one of them, Clinch ! tliey're Alderneys. The Swiss
farm, as they call it, is all on the other side, with the ornamented
cottage."
'* Dear ! dear ! there was no end to their waste and extrava-
gance ! " muttered Mrs. Nelligan.
" Wait till you see the house, ma'am, and you'll say so,
indeed," said the captain.
"I don't think we're likely ! " observed Nelligan, drily.
"Why so?"
" Just that Scanlan told Father Mather the auction would be
held in the stables, for as there was none of the furniture to be
sold the house wouldn't be oj)ened."
"That's a great disappointment!" exclaimed Bodkin. A
sentiment fully concurred in by the ladies, who both declared
that they'd never have come so far only to look at pigs and
" short horns."
"Maybe we'll get a peep at tlie gardens," said Bodkin,
endeavouring to console them.
"And the sow! " broke in Peter Hayes, Avho had joined the
party some time before. " They tell me she's a beauty. She's
Lord Somebody's breed, and beats the world for fat ! "
"Here's Scanlan, now, and he'll tell us everything," said
Bodkin. But the sporting attorney, mounted on a splendid
little horse, in top condition, passed them at speed, the few
words he uttered being lost as he dashed by.
"What was it he said?" cried Bodkin.
A COUNTRY ATICTIOX 295
" I didn't catch the ^YOl■ds," replied Kelligaii; "inul I suiipose
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," refcorfce 1 his
spouse. "You never happened to be right in youi- life ! "
" Faix ! I made sure of mine before I started," said old Hayes.
" I ate a cowld goose ! "
"Well, to be sure, they couldn't be expected to cntertaiu all
that's coming ! " said Mrs. Nelligan, who now began a mental
calculation of the numbers on the road.
" There will be a thousand people here to-day," said Bodkin.
"Five times that," said Nelligan. " I know it by the number
of small' bills that I gave cash for the last Aveek. 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 centered on the animal in
question.
"What do they mean to do when they sell off the stock?"
asked the captain.
"I hear that the place will be let," said Nelligan, in a half
whisper, "if they can find a tenant for it. Henderson told
Father Maher, that come what might, her ladyshi]! would
never come back here."
" Faix ! 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.
Nelligan.
"And it is only fair and reasonable she should have her share
of troubles, like the rest of us," replied Mrs. Clinch. "AVhen
Clinch was removed from Macroon we had to sell off every stick
and stone we had; and as the neighbours knew we must go, we
didn't get five shillings in the pound by the sale."
" That's mighty grand — that is really a tine place ! " exclaimed
Bodkin, as by a sudden turn of the road they came directly in
front of the house; and the whole party sat in silent admiration
of the magnificent edifice before them.
" It is a Royal Palace — no les.s," said Nelligan, at last; "and
that's exactly what no country gentleman wants. Sure wo
know well there's no fortune equal to such a residence. To
296 THE jrARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
keep up that house, as ifc ouglit to be, a man should have thirty
thousaud a year."
"Give me fifteen, Dan, and you'll see if I don't make it com-
fortable," said Bodkin.
" What's this barrier here — can't we go any further ? " ex-
claimed Nelligan, as he perceived a strong paling across the
avenue.
" We're to go round by the stables, it seems," said Bodkin ;
"the Hall entrance is not to be invaded by such vulgar visitors.
This is our road, here."
" Well, if I ever ! " exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, whose feelings
really overpowered utterance.
"I don't see any great hardship in this after all, ma'am,"
said JSTelligan, "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
convenience of the sale, in front of which were pens for the
cattle, and a space railed off, wherein the horses were to be
viewed and examined.
"This is all mighty well arranged," said Bodkin, as he gave
his horse to a groom, who, in the undress livery of Cro' JMartin,
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 crov^rds of people of every class, from the small Squire
to the Oughterard shopkeeper and country farmer, now came
pouring in, all eager in their curiosity, but somehow all subdued
into a kind of reverence for a spot from which they had been
so rigidly excluded, and the very aspect of which so far trans-
cended expectations. Eveiything, 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 shining copper, all demanded notice
and comment; and many were the wise reflections uttered with
A COUNTKT AUCTrOX. 207
regard to those who thus squandered away their wealth. The
sight of the cattle, however, which occupied this luxurious
abode, went far to disarm this criticism, since certainly none
ever seemed more worthy of the state and splendour that
suri'ounded them. For these the admiration was hearty and
sincere, and the farmers went along the stalls amazed and
wonderstruck at the size and symmetry of the noble animals
that filled them.
" To be sold at Tattersall's, sir, on the 4'th of next month,"
said a groom, whose English accent imparted an almost sneer
to the supposition that such a stud should meet purchasers in
Ireland. " They're all advertised in BeWs Life."
" What becomes of the hounds P " asked Bodkin.
" Lord Cromore takes them, sir ; they're to hunt in Dorset-
shire."
"And the sow?" asked old Ha^'c?, with eagerness; "she
isn't to go to England, is she ? "
" Can't say, sir. "We don't look arter no sows here," replied
the fellow, as he turned away in evident disgust at his ques-
tioner.
A certain stir and bustle in the court without gave token that
the sale was about to begin, and Scanlan's voice, in its most
authoritative tone, was heard issuing* orders and directions on
all sides, while servants went hither and thither distributing
catalogues, and securing accommodation for the visitors with a
degree of deference and attention most remarkable.
" I suppose we're to pass the day in the stables, or the cow-
houses, ma'am ? " said Mrs. Clinch, as with a look of indigna-
tion she gazed at the range of seats now being" hastily occujDied
by a miscellaneous company.
" If we could only get into the gardens," said Mrs. iSTelligan,
timidly. " I'm sure if I saw Barnes he'd let us in." And she
slipped rapidly from her friends arm, and hastily crossing the
court, went in search of her only acquaintance in the household.
" Did you see Barnes ? "Where could 1 find Barnes ? asked she
of almost every one she met. And following- the complicated
directions she received, she wandered onward, through a kitchen-
garden, and into a small nursery beyond it. Bewildered as she
receded bej'ond the sounds of the multitude, she turned into a
little path which, traversing a shrubber}^ opened upon a beauti-
fully-cultivated " parterre," whose close-shaven sward and
flowery beds flanked a long range of windows opening to the
ground, and which, to her no small liorror, she perceived to
298 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
form one ■wing' of the mansion. While in her distraction to
think what course was best to take, she saw a groom standing
at the head of a small pony, harnessed to a diminutive carriage,
and hastily approached him. Before, however, she had attained
withiix speaking distance, the man motioned to her, by a gesture,
to retire. Her embarrassment gave her, if not courage, some-
thing of resolution, and she advanced.
"Go back!" cried he, in a smothered voice; "there's no one
admitted here."
"Bat 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. ISTelligan came on, confusion rendering her in-
different to all reproof, and in spite of gestures and admonitions
to retire, steadily advanced towards the door. As she passed
one of the open windows, her glance caught something within;
she stopped suddenly, and, in seeming shame at her intrusion,
tur-ned to go back. A muttered malediction from the servant
increased her terror, and she uttered a faint cry. In au
instant, the object at which she had been gazing arose,
and Mary Martin, her face traced with recent tears, started
up and approached her. Mrs. Nelligan felt a sense of sickly
faintness come over her, and had to grasp the window for
support.
"Oh, my dear young lady!" she muttered,"! didn't mean
to do this — I strayed here by accident — I didn't know where I
was going "
" My dear Mrs. l!^elligan, 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 wait-
ing for you, and you're off to the quarries, or Kilkieran, I'll bo
bound ; or maybe it's only going away you are, to be out of this
for a day or two. God knows, I don't wonder at it ! It is a
trying scene for you, and a great shock to your feelings, to see
the place dismantled, and evei'ything sold off! "
"It is sad enough," said Mary, smiling through her tears.
"Not to say that you're left here all alone, just as if you
A COUNTRY AUCTION. 299
weren't one of the farail}- at all ; that's what I think most of.
And where were you going, dear ? "
"I was going to pass a few days at the Cottage — the Swiss
Cottage. Catty Broon, my old nurse, has gone over there to
get it in readiness for me, and I shall probably stay there till
all til is confusion be over."
" To be sure, dear. What's more natural than that you'd
like to spare your feelings, seeing all carried away just as if ifc
Avas bankrupts you were. Indeed, Dan said to me the things
wouldn't bring more than at a sheriff's sale, because of the
hurry you were in to sell them off."
"My uncles 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
bow arc you to live here by 3^oui"self, dear ? " resumed she ;
" sure you'll die of the loneliness ! "
" I don't think so: I shall have plenty to occupy me — more,
indeed, than I shall be equal to."
" Ay, in the daytime; but the long evenings — think of the
long evenings, dear ! God knows, I find them very often dreary
enough, even though I have a home and Dan."
" I'm not afraid of the long evenings, my dear Mrs. Nelligan.
It is the only time I can spare for reading ; they will be my
hours of recreation and amusement."
" Well, well, I hope so, with all my heart," said she, doubt-
ingly. " You know yourself best, and maybe you'd be happier
that way, than if you had somebody to talk to and keep you
company."
" I didn't say that," said Mary, smiling. " I never implied
that a visit from some kind friend — Mrs. Nelligan, for instance
— would not be a very pleasant event in my solitude."
" To come and see you — to come to Oro' Martin ! " exclaimed
Mrs. Nelligan, as though trying to reconcile her mind to the
bare possibility of such a cii'cumstance.
" If you would not think it too far, or too much trouble "
" Oh dear, oh dear, but it's too much honour it would be ;
and Dan — no matter what he'd say to the contrary — would feel
it so, in his own heart. Sure I know well how he felt about
Joe being asked here to dinner; and he'd never have taken a
part against your uncle in the election, if it wasn't that ha
thought Joe was slighted some way "
" But nothing of the kind ever occurred. Mr. Joseph Nelli.
30D THE MARTINS OF CRO' ilARTIIf.
gan met from us all the respect that his character and hia
talents entitled him to."
" Don't get warm about it, or I'll forget everything that's in.
my head!" exclaimed Mrs. Nelligan, in terror at the eagerness
of Mary's manner. " Maybe it was Joe's fault — maybe it was
young Massingbred's — maybe it was "
" But what was it ? " cried Mary — " what was alleged? what
was laid to our charge ? "
"There, now, I don't remember anything; you frightened me
so, that it's gone clean out of my mind."
" My dear friend," said Mary, caressingly, " I never meant to
alarm you, and let us talk of something else. You say that
you'll come to see me sometimes is it a promise ?"
" Indeed it is, my dear, whenever Dan give sme the car and
horse "
" But I'll drive in for you, and bring 3-ou safely back again.
You've only to say when you'll spend the day with me — and
there's so much to show you here that you'd like to see. The
gardens are really handsome, and the hothouses. And Catty
will show us her dairy, and I am very proud of my lambs."
" It is all like a dream to me — just like a dream," said Mrs.
Nelligan, closing her eyes, and folding her arms, " to think that
I'm sitting here, at Cro' Martin, talking to Miss Mary juyt as if
I were her equal."
"My dear, dear friend, it shall be a reality whenever you
like to make it so ; and you'll tell me all the news of Oughte-
rard — all about every one thci-e, for I know them, at least by
name, and will be charmed to hear about them."
" jMr. Scanlan wants an answer, miss, immediately," said a
servant, presenting Maiy 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 bt.il, she whis-
pered a few words to the man who answered it. " I have just
sent a message to tell Mr. Nelligan I wish to speak to him/*
said she, resuming her place on the sofa. " It is a mere busi«
ness 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?"
A COUNTRY AUCTION. 301
This was to toucli the most sensitive chord in all her heart,
and so she burst forth into a description of Joseph's daily life
of toil and study; his labours, his self-denial, his solitary,
joyless existence, all calling up in turn her praises and her
sympathy.
"And I," cried she, "am always saying-, what is it all for? —
what's the use of it? — who is to be the better of it? Sure
there's only himself to get whatever his father leaves behind
him; and a pretty penny it is! Not that yoii, would think so;
but for the like of us, and in our station, it's a snug fortune.
He'll have upwards of two thousand a year, so that there's no
need to be slaving like a Turk."
"Your son's ambitions take, very probably, a higher range
than mere money-making," said Mary, "He has a good right
to suppose that his abilities may win him the highest of rewards !
But here's Mr. Nelligan." And she advanced courteously to
meet him at the door.
Flushed and heated by the scene he had just quitl^j, and
evidently embarrassed by the situation in which he stood,
Nelligan bowed repeatedly in reply to Miss Martin's greeting,
starting with amazement as he perceived Mrs. Nelligan, who
maintained an air of unbroken dignity on the sofa.
" Well 3'OU may stare, Dan ! " said she. " I'm sure you never
expected to see me here ! "
" It was a most agreeable surprise for me, at least," said Mary,
motioning to a seat; then, turning to Nelligan, added, "This
little note was the occasion of my asking you to step over here.
Will you please to read it? "
" How handsome — how candid, Miss Martin ! " said Nelli-
gan, as he restored it, after perusing it. " Ah, 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 offer, Miss — I wouldn't take fifty
pounds for my bargain ! "
"This, of course, is in confidence between us, sir," said Marj^
as she tore up the note and threw the fragments on the ground.
"I wish I knew how to acknowledge this, Miss Martin. I
wish I could show how sensible one in mij station could be of
generosity from one in yours."
" You remind me very opportunely that I have a favour to
ask. Mr. Nelligan. It is this : My kind friend here, J^.Irs.
Nelligan, has just promised to take pity on my solitude, and
occasionally to come and see me. W^ill you kindly strengthen
302 THE MARTINS OF CVjO' MARTIN.
her in this benevolent intention, and aid hei* to turn her steps
very often towards Oro' Martin ? "
ISTelligan's face grew deeply red, and an es2Dression 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 intimacj^ ! 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 : " IsTo 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 acquaintance-
ship as you speak of would look like an undue condescension on
your part, or something even worse on 02trs."
" I'll not listen to such subtleties ! " cried Mary, hastily.
"Neither you nor I, my dear Mrs. Nelligan, care for party
triumphs or defeats. There are a thousand themes wherein
our hearts caii feel alike — and these we'll discuss together.
We're of the same country — have passed our lives amidst the
same scenes, the same events, and the same people — and it will
be hard if we cannot as easily discover topics for mutual esteem,
as subjects of difference and disagreement."
"But will it not be hinted. Miss Martin, that we took the op-
portunity of your solitude here to impose an acquaintanceship
which had been impossible under other circumstances ? "
" If you are too proud, sir, to know me — lest an ungenerous
sneer should damage your self-esteem "
" Indeed, indeed we're not," broke in Mrs. Nelligan. " You
don't know Dan at all. He wouldn't exchange the honour of
sitting there, opposite you, to be High Sheriff."
A servant fortunately presented himself at this awkward
moment with a whispered message for Miss Martin ; to which
she replied aloud :
" Of course. Tell Mr. Scanlan it is my wish — my orders,**
added she, more firmly. " The house is open to any one who
desires to see it. And now, before I go, Mr. Nelligan, tell me
that I have convinced you — tell me that my reasons have pre-
vailed, and that you acknowledge we ought to be friends. And,
as she said the last words, she held out her hand to him with a
grace so perfect, and an air of such winning fascinatioDj that
old Nelligan could only stammer out :
,7 :/ 'J
"»««a
A COUNTllY AUCTIOJT. 303
"It shall be how you please. I never bargained to dispute
against such odds as this. We are, indeed, your friends ; dispose
of us how you like." And, so saying, he conducted her to the
little carriage, and, assisting her to her seat, took his leave
■with all the respect he could have shown a Queen.
"It's more than a prejudice, after all," muttered he, as he
looked after her as she drove away. " There's something*
deeiDer and stronger in it than that, or else a few words, spoken
by a young girl, couldn't so suddenly rout all the sentiments of
a lifetime! Ay, ay," added he, still to himself, "we may pull
them down — we may humble them — but we'll never fill their
places ! "
"And we're to see the house, it seems!" exclaimed Mrs.
Xelligan, gathering her shawl around her.
" I don't care to look at it till she herself is here ! " said old
^N^elligan, taking his wife's arm, and leading her away across
the lawn, and in the direction of the stables. There was that
in his moody preoccupation which did not encourage her to
venture on a word, and so, she went along at his side in
silence.
"You're to have the black horses, Mr, Nelligan," said
Scanlan, overtaking him. Nelligan nodded. " You've got a
cheaj) pair of nags, and as good as gold," continued he. A
dry half smile was all the reply. "Mr. Martin bred them
himself," Scanlan went on, " and no price would have bought
them three weeks ago ; but everything is going for a song to-
day ! I don't know how I'll muster courage to tell them the
results of the sale ! "
"You'll have courage for more than that," said Nelligan.
And, although only a chance shot, it fell into a magazine, for
Scanlan grew crimson and then pale, and seemed ready to
faint.
Kelligan stared -with amazement at the effect his few words
had pi'oduced, 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 petty-
fogging practitioner aspires to the hand of jNIary Martin ; nor
even in the darkest dreams of that house's downfal has such a
humiliation obtruded itself anywhere 1
d04t THR MARTINS Oi' CKO' UAETJN.
CHAPTER XXVI.
" DGVEKSES.'*
Oprs is a very practical age, and no matter bow sldlfully a
man play the game of life, tliere is but one test of his ability —
did he win? If this condition attend him, his actions meet
charitable construction — his doings are all favourably regarded ;
and while his capacity is extolled, even his short-comings are
extenuated. We dread an unlucky man ! There is a kind of
contagion in calamity, and we shun him as though he were
plague-stricken ! But with what flatteries we greet the success-
ful one ! That he reached the goal is the sure guarantee of his
merits, and woe to him who would canvass the i-ectitude of his
progress! Defeat is such a leveller! Genius and dulness,
courage and pusillanimity, high-hearted hope and wasting
energy, are all confounded together by failure, and the world
would only smile at any efibrt to discriminate between them.
Perhaps in the main the system works well — perhaps mankind,
incapable of judging motives — too impatient to investigate
causes — is wise in adopting a short cut for its decisions.
Certain it is, the rule is absolute that proclaims Success to be
Desert !
Lady Dorothea was now about to experience this severe
lesson, and not the less heavily that she never anticipated it.
After a wearisome journey the Martins arrived in Dublin. Tiie
apartments secured to them, by a previous letter, at Bilton's,
were all in readiness for their reception. The "Saunders" of
the day duly chronicled their arrival ; but there the great event
seemed to terminate. No message from her ladyship's noble
kinsman greeted their coming — no kind note of welcome — not
even a visit from Mr. Lawrence Belcour, the aide-de-camp in
waiting. The greatest of all moralists warns us against putting
" REYEnSES.** 305
coufidence in Princes; and how doubly truthful is the adage
when extended to Vicei'oys! Small as was the borough of
Oughteraid, 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 — tliey had gone to work
in the old Tory cut-and-thrust fashion of former days — con-
ciliated no interest, won over no antagonism. They had acted
"precisely as if thei'e had been no Relief Bill" — we steal
Colonel ]\Iassingbx"ed's words — and they were beaten — beaten in
their own town — in the person of one of their own family, and
by a strang-er ! The Viceroy was vexed. They had miscon-
strued 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 " Road Sessions " or " Police Reports," but to
have one's day in total unbroken listlessness ; to have simply to
say, " We'll dine at seven," and " I'm out for every one." Far
otherwise fared it in my "lady's chamber." All her plans had
been based upon the attentions she was so certain of receiving,
but of which, now, not a sign gave token. She passed the day
in a state of almost feverish excitement, the more painful from
her effort to conceal and couti-ol it. Repton dined with them.
He came that day, " because, of course, he could not expect to
catch them disengaged on any future occasion." Her ladyship
was fuijous at the speech, but smiled concurrence to it, while
Martin carelessly remarked, " From all that I see, we may
enjoy the same pleasure very often." Never was the old lawyer
so disagreeable when exerting himself to be the opposite. He
had come stored with all the doings of the capital — its dinners
and evening parties, its " mots," and its gossip. From the
political rnmG»ars and the chit-chat of society, he went on i)
speak of the viceregal court and its festivities.
21
o06 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTHA.
"If there be anything* I detest," said her liidyship, 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 de-
formities, all warring and worrying* each other." And with
tliis flattering exposition of her opinion she arose speedily after
dinner, ami, followed by Miss Henderson, retired.
" I perceive that we had not the ear of the Court for our
argument," said Repton, as lie resumed bis place after conduct-
ing her to the door. Martin sipped bis wine in silence. I
never expected she'd like Dublin. It only suits those who pass
their lives in it; but I fancied, that what witb Castle civili-
ties "
" There's the rub," broke in Martin, but in a voice subdued
almost to a whisper. " They've taken no notice of us. For
my own part, I'm heartily obliged to them ; and if they'd con-
descend to feel offended with us, I'd only be more grateful ; but
my lady "
" A long, low whistle from Repton implied that he had fully
appreciated the " situation."
"Ah, I see it," cried he; and this explains the meaning of
an article I read this morning in the Evening Post — the Govern-
ment organ — wherein it is suggested that country gentlemen
would be more efficient supporters of the Administration if they
lent themselves heartily to comprehend the requirements of
recent legislation, than by exacting heavy rejDi'isals on their
tenants in moments of defeat and disappointment."
" Well it is rather hard," said Martin, with more of energy
than he usually spoke in — " it is hard ! They first hounded us
on to contest the borough for them, and they now abuse us that
we did not make a compromise with the opposite party. And
as to measures of severity, you know well I never concurred in
them — I never permitted them."
"But they are mistaken, nevertheless. There ai'e writs in
preparation, and executions about to issue over fourteen town-
lands. There will be a general clearance of the population at
Kyle-a-Noe, You'll not know a face there when you go back,
Martin ! "
"Who can say that I'll ever go back?" said he, mourn-
fully.
" Come, come, I trust you will. I hope to pass some pleasant
" KEVEUSES." 307
days with you there ere I die," said Repton, cheevinglj. " In-
deed, until you are there again, I'll never go larthei* west than
Athlone on my circuit. " I'd not like to look at the old place
without you ! "
Martin nodded as he raised his glass, as if to thank him, and
then dropped his head mournfully, and sat without speaking.
" Poor dear Mary ! " said he, at last, with a heavy sigh. " Our
desertion of her is too bad ! It's not keeping the pledge I made
to Barry!"
" Well, well, there's nothing easier than the remedy. A week
or so will see you settled in some city abroad — Paris, or Brussels,
perhaps. Let her join you ; I'll be her escort. Egad ! I'd like
the excuse for the excursion," replied Rep ton, gaily.
*' Ay, Repton," said the other, pursuing his own thoughts and
not heeding the interruption, " and you know what a brother he
was. By Jove ! " cried he, aloud, " were Barry just to see what
we've done — how we've treated the place — the people — his,
daughter ! — were he only to know how I've kept my word with
Lim Look, Repton," added he, grasping the other's arm
as he spoke, " there's not as generous a fellow breathing as
Barry — this world has not his equal for an act of noble self-
devotion and sacrifice. His life ! — he'd not think twice of it if
I asked him to give it for me; but if he felt — if he could just
awaken to the conviction that he was unfairly dealt with — that
when believing he was sacrificing to affection and brotherly love
be was made a dupe and a fool of "
" Be cautious, ]\Iartin ; speak lower — remember where you
are," said Repton, guardedly.
" I tell you this," resumed the other, in a tone less loud but
not less forcible, " the very warmth of his nature — that same
noble, generous source that feeds every impulse of his life —
would supply the force of a torrent to his passion; he'd De a
tiger if you aroused him ! "
" Don't you perceive, my dear friend," said Repton, calml}',
*' how you are exaggerating everything — not alone your own
culpabilit}', but his resentment ! Grant that you ought not to
have left Mary behind you — I'm sure I said everything I could
against it — what more easy than to repair the wrong ? "
" No, no, Repton, you're quite mistaken. Take my word for
it, you don't know that girl. She has taught herself to believe
that her place is there — that it is her duty to live amongst the
people. She may exaggerate to her own mind the good she
does — she may fancy a thousand things as to the benefit she
21--1
808 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 among-st 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, Repton ; if it was her duty to stay there, it was
doubly otirs to have remained also. When she married," added
lie, 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 any-
thing or anywhere ; and as to myself, it is a matter of the most
perfect indifference whether I drag out the year or two that
may remain to me on the shores of Galway or beside the
Adriatic ! "
" I can't bear this," cried Repton, angrily. " If ever there
was a man well treated by fortune you are he."
" I'm not complaining."
"Not complaining! but, hang it, sir, that is not enough?
You should be overflowing with gratitude ; your life ought to
be active with benevolence; you should be up and doing,
wherever ample means and handsome encouragement could
assist merit or cheer despondency. I like your notion that
you don't complain ! Why, if you did, what should be done
by those who really do travel the shady side of existence?
— Avho are weighted with debt, bowed down with daily diffi-
culties, crippled with that penury that eats into a man's nature
till his very affections grow sordid, and his very dreams are
tormented with his duns! Think of the poor fellows with
ailing wives and sickly children, toiling daily, not to give them
luxuries — not to supply them with what may alleviate weari-
ness or distract suffering, but bare sustenance — coarse diet and
coarser dress ! Ah, my dear Martin, that Romanist plan of
fasting one day in the week wouldn't be a bad institution were
Ave to introduce it into our social code. If you and I could
have, every now and then, our feelings of privation, just to
teach us what others experience all the week through, we'd
have, if not more sympathy with narrow fortune, at least more
thankfulness for its opposite."
"Her ladj^ship begs j^ou will read this note, sir," said a sei'-
vant, presenting an open letter to Martin. He took it, and
having perused it, handed it to Repton, who slowly read the
following lines: —
" EEVKRSES." 309
*' ' The Lodge, Tuesday.
" * IVIadam, — T have his Excellency's commands to inquire on
what day it will suit Mr. Martin and your ladyship to favour
him with your company at dinner? His Excellency would
himself say Saturday, but any intermediate day more convenient
to yourself will be equally agreeable to him.
" * I have the honour to remain, madam,
*' ' With every consideration, yours,
"'Lawrence Belcour, A.D.C
*' ' With every consideration ! ' " repeated Repton. " Confound
the puppy, and his Frenchified phraseology. Why is he not,
as he ought to be, your obedient servant ? "
" It is a somewhat cold and formal invitation," said Martin,
slowly. "I'll just see what she thinks of it;" and he arose
and left the room. His absence was fully of twenty minutes*
duration, and when he did return his face betokened agi-
tation.
" Here's more of it, Repton," said he, filling and drinking off
his glass. " It's all my fault, it seems. I ought to have gone
out to the 'Lodge' this morning, or called on somebody, or
done something ; in fact, I have been remiss, neglectful, deficient
in proper respect "
" So that you decline the invitation ? " broke in RejDton.
"Not a bit of it; we're to accept it, man. That's what I
cannot comprehend. We are offended, almost outraged, but
still we're to submit. Ah, Repton, I'll be really rejoiced when
we leave this — get away from all these petty annoyances and
small intriguings, and live amongst strangers ! "
"Most patriotically spoken; but I'm not surprised at what
you say. Have you made any resolve as to whither you mean
to go ? ''
"No; we have so many plans, that the chances are we take
none of them. I'm told — I know nothing- of it myself — but
I'm told that we shall easily find — and in any part of the
Continent — the few requirements we want ; which are, an
admirable climate, great cheapness, and excellent society,"
There was a slight twinkle in Martin's eye as he sjDoke, as if
he were in reality relishing the absurdity of these expectations.
" Was it Kate Henderson who encouraged you to credit this
flattering picture ? "
" No ; these are my lady's own experiencies, derived from a
residence there 'when George the Third was King.' As to
310 THE :.IAKTINS OF CKO' MARTIN,
Kate, the gii'l la by no means deficient in common sense; slie
has the frivolity of a Frencli woman, and that light, superficial
tone foreign education imparts; but take my word for it,
E-epton, she has very fine faculties ! "
" I will take your word for it, Martin. I think you do her no
more than justice," said the old lawyer, sententiousiy.
"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!"
" Kobody ! " drily re-echoed Repton.
"I mean, of course, that nobody who knew the world could,
for in all the glitter and show off of fashionable acquirement
poor Molly is the inferior."
Repton looked steadfastly at him for several seconds ; he
seemed as if deliberating within himself whether or not he'd
undeceive him at once, or suffer him to dwell on an illusion so
pleasant to believe. The latter feeling prevailed, and he merely
nodded slowly, and passed the decanter across the table.
"Molly," continued Martin, with all the fluency of a weak
man when he fancies he has got the better of an argument —
"Molly is her father all over. The same resolution — the same
warmth of heart — and that readiness at an expedient which
never failed poor Barry ! What a clever fellow he was ! If he
had a fault, it Avas just being too clever."
"Too speculative — too sanguine," interposed Repton.
"That, if you like to call it so ; the weakness of genius."
Repton gave a long sigh, and crossing his arms, fell into a fit
of musing, and so they both sat for a considerable time.
" Harry is coming home, you said ? " broke in Repton at
last.
"Yes; he is tired of India — tired of soldiering, I believe.
If he can't manage an exchange into some regiment at home, I
think he'll sell out."
"By Jove!" said the old lawyer, speaking to himself, but
still aloud, " the world has taken a strange turn of late. The
men that used to have dash and euei-gy have become loungers
and idlers, and the energy — the real energy of the nation — has
centered in the women — the women and the priests! If I'm
"reverses." 311
not :nucli mistalcen, we shall see some rare sjDecimeus of eii-
tliusiasm ere long. Such elements as these ^Yill not slumber
nor sleep ! "
While Martin was pondering over this speech, a servant
entered to say that Mr. Crow was without, and begged to kuow
if he might pay his respects. "Ay, by all means. Tell him to
come in," said Martin. And the Avords were scarcely uttered
when the artist made his appearance, in full dinner costume,
and with a certain unsteadiness in his gait, aiad 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 Mai'tin, after the
other had paid his respects, and assumed a seat.
"Yes, sir. It was mentioned to-day at dinner, and so I
resolved that, when I could manage to step away, I'd just drop
in and ask how her ladyship and yourself were."
" Where did you dine, Crow ? "
"At the Chief Secretary's, sir, in the Park," replied Crow,
with a mixture of pride and bashfulness.
" Ah, indeed. Was your party a large one ? "
"There were fourteen of us, sir, but I only knew thi'ee or four
of the number."
" And who \wcve they. Crow ? " said Repton, whose curiosity
on all such topics was extreme.
"Young Nelligan was one. Indeed, it was through him I
was asked myself. Colonel Massingbred was good enough to
come over and have a look at my Moses — a 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, ia
amazement.
"The same, sir. I left him there at the port wine, and my
word for it but they'll not get him away easily, though Father
Rafferty will do his best "
"And was the priest also of the party ? "
"He was, sir; and sat at the colonel's left, and was treated
with every honour and distinction."
"Eh, Martin, am I a true prophet? — answer me that. Ha3
312 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
Val Repton foretold the course of events we are entering upon,
or has he not ? "
" But this is a regular outrage — an open insult to us ! " cried
Martin, " Here is a leading member of the Government en-
tertaining the very men who opposed and defeated us — actually
caressing the very party which they enlisted us to crash ! "
" This game is within every child's comprehension ! " said
Repton. " If you, and men of your stamp and fortune, could
have secured them a parliamentary majority, they'd have pre-
ferred you. You'd be pleasanter to deal with, less exacting,
more gentlemanly in fact; but, as j^ou failed to do this — as it
was plain and clear you had not the people with you — why,
they've thrown you over without a scruple, and taken into their
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 ; but what do they care ? It is one
of the blessings of a representative government that Tories
have to pay Whig debts, and TVhigs are beirs to Tory defal-
cations."
"Were politics discussed at table?" asked Martin, half im-
patiently.
"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 Massiugbred made a kind of a speech "
" Was he there also ? "
" That he was ; and did the honours of the foot of tho table,
and made it the pleasantest place too ! The way he introduced
a toast to the independent and enlightened electors of Oughte-
rard was as neat a thing as ever I heard."
"The devil take the whole batch of them!" cried Martin.
" To think that I've spent nearly three thousand pounds for
such a set of scoundrels is past endurance. I'll never set foot
amongst them again; as long as I live I'll never enter that
town."
" Father Neal's own words," cried Crow. " ' We done with
Martin 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 v>^e 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 Massiugbred said. ' Give
"KEVERSE5." 313
tip 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 Rcpton, in a
whisper to Martin.
"Always provided that I were somewhere else!" answered
Martin. "But to be serious, Repton, I'll hold no intercourse
with men who treat us in this fashion. It is absurd to suppose
that the Secretary could receive at his table this rabble — this
herd of low, vulgar "
" Eh — what ! " broke in Crow, with an expression of such
truly comic misery as made Repton shake with laughter.
" I didn't mean you, Crow — I never thought of including you
in such company — but if these be Colonel Massiugbred's guests,
I'll swear that Godfrey ^lartin shall not be my Lord Recking-
ton's ! " And with this bold resolve, uttered in a voice and
manner of very unusual firmness, Martin arose and left the
room.
" On the whole, then, your party was a pleasant one ? " said
Repton, anxious to lead Crow into some further details of the
late dinner.
"Well, indeed it was, and it was not," said the artist,
hesitatingly. " It was like a picture with some fine bits in it
— a dash of rich colour here and there — but no keeping ! — no
general effect! You understand? I myself took no share in
the talk. I never understood it; but I could see that they who
did were somehow at cross-purposes — all standing in adverse
lights — if I may use the expression. Whenever the colonel
himself, or one of the 'swells' of the company, came out with
a fine sentiment about regenerated Ireland, happy and pros-
perous, and so forth, Magennis was sure to break in with some
violent denunciation of the infernal miscreants, as he called the
landlords, or the greatest curse of the land — the Law Church!"
"And how did Father Neal behave? "
" With great decorum — the very greatest. He moderated
all Tom's violence, and repeatedly said that he accepted no
participation in such illiberal opinions. 'We have grievances,
it is true,' said he, 'but we live under a Government able and
willing to redress them. It shall never be said of us that we
were either impatient or intolerant.' 'With such support, no
Government was ever weak!' said the colonel, and they took
wine together."
"That was very pleasant to see ! " said Repton.
314 t;;to martins of cro' martin.
*' So it was, sir," rejoined Crow, innocently ; " and I tliottglit
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 N^eal, then, made a favourable impression, you'd
say ? " asked Repton, half carelessly.
" I'd say, vei'y favourable — very favourable indeed. I re-
marked that he always spoke so freely, so liberally. Twice or
thrice, too, he said, ' If the Papists do this, that, or t'other ;'
and when the colonel asked whether the Catholics of Ireland
submitted implicitly to Rome in all things, he laughed heartily,
and said, 'About as much as we do to the Cham of Tartary ! '
"'I'd like to examine our friend there before the Committee,'
whispered an old gentleman at the colonel's right hand.
" ' It was the very thing was passing through my own mind
at the minute,' said the colonel.
"'That's exactly the kind of thing we want,' said the old
gentleman ag-ain — ' a bold, straig'htforward denial — something
that would tell admirably with the House ! '
"'Present me to your friend Massingbred ! ' And then the
Chief Secretary said, 'The Member for Strudeham — Mr.
Crutchley — is very desirous of being known to you, Mr.
Rafferty.' And there Avas great smiling, and bowing, and
drinking wine together after that."
Martin now re-entered the room, and taking his place at the
table, sat for some minutes in moody silence.
" Well," said Repton, " what does my lady think of your
tidings? "
" She says she 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
Repton play the lawyer with us and pervert the evidence.
Lady Dorothea can't believe that her distinguished relative, the
Vicei'oy, would ever countenance this game; that — that — in
fact, we're to dine there, Repton, and see for ourselves !
Though," added he, after a brief j^ause, " what we are to see, or
what we are to do when we've seen it, I wish anybody would
tell me ! "
"Then I'll be that man! " said Repton, with a mock solem-
nity, and imitating the tone and manner of a judge delivering
sentence, "You'll go from this place to the Lodge, where
"reverses." 315,
you'll be fed ' to the neck,' feasted and flattered, and all your
good resolves and high purposes will be cut down, and your
noble indignation buried within the precincts of your own
hearts ! "
And, so saying, he arose from the table and extended his
hand to take leave, with all the gravity of a solemn farewell.
" If you could say a word to his excellency about Moses,"
muttered Crow, as he was leaving the room, " it would be the
making of me ! " But Martin never heeded the appeal —
perhaps he never heard it.
316 THE MAETIKS OF CEO' MARTIN
CHAPTER XXVIL
PAKKBNING FORTUNES.
The Martins had always lived a life of haughty estrangfement
from their neighbours ; there were none of exactly their own
rank and pretensions within miles of them, and they were too
proud to acknowledge the acquaintance of a small squirearchy,
which was all that the country around could boast. Notwith-
standing all the isolation of the their existence, their departure
created a great void in the county, and their absence was sen-
sibly felt by every class around. The very requirements of a
large fortune suggest a species of life and vitality — the move-
ment of servants — the passing and repassing of carriages — the
necessary intercourse with market and post — all impart a de-
gree of bustle and movement, terribly contrasted by the un-
broken stillness of a deserted mansion.
Lady Dorothea had determined that there should be no
ambiguity as to the cause of their departure ; she had given
the most positive ordei's on this head to every department of
the household. To teach an ungrateful people the sore conse-
Siueaces of their own ingratitude, the lesson should be read in
everything : in the little villages thrown out of work — in the
silent quarries — the closed school-houses — the model farm con-
verted into grass-land — even to the grand entrance, now built
np by a wall of coarse masonry — the haughty displeasure of
the proud mistress revealed itself, all proclaiming the sentiment
of a deep, unforgiving vengeance. She had tortured her in-
genuity for details which should indicate her anger; nor was
ilhe satisfied if her displeasure should not find its way into
every cabin and at every hearth. The small hamlet of Cro'
Martin had possessed a dispensary; a hard-working, patient,
and skilful man had passed many years of life there as the
DARKENING F0KTUNE3. 317
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 afford to dress his three daughters in the manner he
did, he surely could not require her thirty pounds per annum."
The servants, too, complained that he constantly mistook their
complaints. In fact, judgment was recorded against Cloves,
and there was none to recommend him to mercy !
We have said that there was a little chapel within the bounds
of the demesne ; it occupied a corner of a ruin which once had
formed Cro' Martin Abbey, and now served for the village
church. It was very small, but still large enough for its little
congregation. The vicar of this humble benefice w;:s 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 ladj'ship'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
j^atli to the church, which led through one of the shrubberies
adjoining his own house — a concession of the more consequence
as he was too poor to keep a carriage of the humblest kind.
This was now ordered to be closed up, the gate removed, and a
wall to replace it. " The poor had got the habit of coming-
that way ; it was never intended for their use, but they had
usurped it. To-morrow or next day we should hear of its
being claimed at law as a public right of passage. It was
better to do the thing in time. In short, it must be 'closed.'"
By some such reasoning as this. Lady Dorothea persuaded her-
self to this course, and who should gainsay her ? Oh, if men
would employ but one-tenth of all that casuistry by which tliey
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 — wiiat a world this might be ! "
Mary Martin knew nothing of these decisions ; overwhelmed
by the vast changes on every side, almost crushed beneath the
difiiculties that surrounded her, her first few weeks passed over
like a disturbed dream. Groups of idle, unemployed people
saluted her in mournful silence as she passed the roads. Intcr-
rnpted work.s, half-uxecuted pLin.s met her eye at every turn.
318 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
and at every moment tlie same -words rang in her ears, ''Her
ladyship's orders," as the explanation of all.
Hitherto her life had been one of unceasing exertion and toil ;
from early dawn to late night she had been employed ; her
fatigues, however, great as they were, had been always allied
with power. What she willed she could execute. Means never
failed her, no matter how costly the experiment, to carry out
her plans, and difficulty gave only zest to every undertaking.
There is nothing more captivating than this sense of uncon-
trolled ability for action, especially when exei'cised 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 acconij^lished all the changes around her, was in itself a
great fascination, and now suddenly she was to awake from all
this, and find herself unoccupied and powerless. Willingly,
without a regret, could she abdicate from all the pomp and
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 for-
tune 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 jjower.
That hundreds of workmen were no longer at her bidding-,
that whole families no longer looked up to her for aid and com-
fort, these were astounding facts, and came upon her with an
actual shock.
" For what am I left here ? " cried she, passionately, to
Henderson, as he met each suggestion she made by the one cold
word " impossible." " Is it to see destitution that I cannot
relieve ? Witness want that I am powerless to alleviate ? To
what end, or with what object, do I remain ? "
" I canna say, miss," was the dry response.
"If it be to humiliate me by the spectacle of my own inciTi-
ciency, a day or a week will suinco for that — years could not
teach mo more."
Henderson bowed what possibly might mean an acqui-
escence.
"I don't speak of the estate," cried she, earnestly; "but
what's to become of the people ? "
" Many o' them will emigrate, miss, I've no doubt," said he,
"when they see there's nothing to bide for."
"You take it easily, sir. You see little hardships in men
JJAUKEXIXQ FORTUNES. 319
having- to leave home and country; but I tell yon, tiiat home
may be poor, and country cruel, and jtt both very hard to part
with"
"That's vara trac, miss," was the dry response.
"For anything there is now to be done here, yon, sir, are to
the full as competent as I am. I ask again — To what end am
I here ? "
Giving to her question a very different significance from what
she intended, Henderson calmly said, " I thought, miss, it was
just yer ain wish, and for no other reason."
Mary's cheek became crimson, and her eyes flashed with
angry indignation ; but, repressing the passion that was burst-
ing 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, she stood attentively considering it for
some time. "The works at Carrigalone are stopped?" said
she, hastily.
"Yc3, miss."
" And the planting at Kyle's Wooa ? "*
" Yes, miss."
" And even the thinning there — is that stopped ? "
"Yes, mis3 ; the bark is to be sold, and a' the produce of the
wood for ten years, to a contractor, a certain Mister "
"I don't want his name, sir. "What of the miirble quar-
ries ? "
" My lady thinks they're nac 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 Osprcy's Nest will be let. I think they'll
mak* an inn or a public o' it."
" And if the hurbour is abandoned, what is to become of the
fishermen ? The old quay is useless."
"Vara true, miss; but there's a company goin' to take the
Royalties o' the coast the whole way to Belmullet."
" A Scotch company, Mr. Henderson ? " said Mary, with a
sly malice in her look.
" Yes, miss," said he, colouring slightly. " The house of
M'Grotty and Co. is at the head o' it."
" And are they the same enterprising people who have pro-
posed to take the demesne on lease, provided the gardens be
measured in as arable land ? "
" They are, miss j they've signed the rough draft o' the lease
this morning."
320 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" 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 moi'e 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 ? "
*' He does na ken exactly, Miss. He thinks he'll try Auck-
land, 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 he'll think aboot it when he comes over
in summer. " He's a vara spirited young man, and when there's
a meetin' house built in the village "
"Enough of this, Henderson. Come over here 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 that he should withdraw.
Scarcely was the door closed behind hira thr.n she burst into a
torrent of tears; her long pent up agony utterly overpowered
her, and she cried with all the vehemence of a child's grief.
Her heart once opened to sorrow, by a hundred channels came
tributaries to her affliction. Up to that moment her uncle's
departure had never seemed a cruelty; now, it took all the
form of desertion ; the bitterness of her forlorn condition had
never struck her till it came associated with all the sorrows of
others. It is not impossible that wounded self-love entered into
her feelings. It is by no means unlikely that the sense of her
own impared 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 was assuredly
enough outside of and above all personal consideration to
ennoble her grief and dignify her affliction.
Her first impulses led her to regard herself as utterly
useless, her occupation gone, and her whole career of duty
annihilated. A second and a better resolve whispered to her
that she was more than ever needful to those who without her
would be left without a friend, " If I desert them, who is to
remain? " asked she. " It is true, I am no more able to set in
motion the schemes by which their indigence was alleviated. I
am powerless, but not all worthless. I can still be their nurse
— ^their comforter — their schoolmistress. My very example
DARKENING FORTUNES. 321
may teach them how altered fortune can be borne with fortitude
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 coui'age she
hoped to inspire in others, and anxious not to let old Catty
detect the trace of sorrow in her features, issued forth into the
wood for a walk.
As the deep shadows thickened around her, she grew calmer
and more meditative; the solemn stillness of the place, the
deep, unbroken quietude, imparted its own soothing influence to
her thoughts, and as she went her heart beat freer, and her
elastic temperament again arose to cheer and sustain her. To
confront the future boldly and well, it was necessary that she
should utterly forget the past. She could no longer play the
great part to which wealth and high station had raised her;
she must now descend to that humbler one — all whose influence
should be derived from acts of kindness and words of comfort,
unaided by the greater benefits she had once dispensed.
The means placed at her disposal for her own expenditure
had been exceedingly limited. It was her own desire they
should be so, and Lady Dorothea had made no opposition to
her wishes. Beyond this she had nothing, save a sum of five
thousand pounds, payable at her uncle's death. By strictest
economy — privation, indeed — she thought that she could save
about a hundred pounds a year of this small income ; but to do
so would require the sale of both her horses, retaining only the
pony and the little carriage, while her dress should be of the
very simplest and plainest. In what way she should best
employ this sum was to be for after consideration. The first
thought was how to effect the saving without giving to the act
any unnecessary notoriety. She felt that her greatest difiiculty
would be old Catty Broon. The venerable housekeeper had all
her life regarded her with an affection that was little short of
worship. It was not alone the winning graces of Mary's man-
ner, nor the attractive charms of her appearance, that had so
captivated old Catty, but that the young girl, to her eyes, repre-
sented the great family whose name she bore, and represented
them so worthily. The title of the Princess, by which the
country people knew her, seemed her just and rightful designa-
tion. 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 diffi-
culties of a reduced condition? There seemed but one way to
22
322 THE MAETIKS OP CRO' MARTEN.
effect this, whicli was to give her new mode of life the cTiaracter
of a caprice. " I must make old Catty believe it is one of my
wild and wilful fancies — a sudden whim — out of which a little
time will doubtless rally me. She is the last in the world to
limit me in the indulgence of a momentary notion; she will,
therefore, concede everything to my humour, patiently awaiting
the time when it shall assume a course the very opposite."
Some one should, however, be entrusted with her secret —
without some assistance it could not be carried into execution
— and who should that be ? Alas, her choice was a very narrow
one. It lay between Scanlan and Henderson. The crafty
attorney was not, indeed, much to Mary's liking; his flippant
vulgarity and pretension were qualities she could ill brook, but
she had known him do kind things; she had seen him on more
than one occasion temper the sharpness of some of her lady-
ship's ukases, little suspecting, indeed, how far the possible
impression upon herself was the motive that so guided him;
she had, therefore, no difficulty in preferring him to the
Steward, whose very accent and manner were enough to render
him hateful to her. Scanlan, besides, would necessarily have a
great deal in his power ; he would be able to make many a con-
cession 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 in-
fluence 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 deferential
admiration by which he always distinguished her ? for there is
a species of coquetry that takes pleasure in a conquest where
the profits of victory would be thoroughly despised. We are
not bold enough to say that such feelings found their place in
Mary's heart. We must leave its analysis to wiser and more
cunning anatomists.
Straying onwards ever in deep thought, and not remarking
whither, she was suddenly struck by the noise of masonry —
strange sounds in a spot thus lonely and remote — and now
walking quickly onward, she found herself on the path by
which the vicar on Sundays approached the church, and here,
at a little distance, descried workmen employed in walling up
the little gateway of the passage.
" By whose orders is this done ? " cried Mary, to whose quick
intelligence the act revealed its whole meaning and motive.
DARKENING FORTUNES. 323
"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.
" Yes," cried she, to herself, " it is, indeed, a new existence is
opening before me ; let me strive so to control my temper, that
I may view it calmly and dispassionately, so that others may
not suffer from the changes in my fortune." i
She no sooner reached the house than she despatched a note
to Mr. Scanlan, requesting to see him as early as possible on
the following morning. This done, she set herself to devise
her plans for the future — speculations it must be owned, to
which her own hopeful temperament gave a colouring that a
colder spirit and more calculating mind had never bestowed on
them.
uw.
32-i THE MAIiiraS OF CEO' MARTIJI.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
HOW MR. SCANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE.
It 19 a remark of Wieland's, that although the life of man is
measured by the term of fourscore years and ten, yet that his
ideal existence, or, as he calls it, his "unacted life," meaning
thereby his period of dreamy, projective, and forecasting ex-
istence, vrould occupy a far wider space. And he goes on to
say that it is in this same imaginative longevity men differ the
most from each other, the Poet standing to the ungifted Peasant
in the ratio of centuries to years.
Mr. Maurice Scanlan would not appear a 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 judg-
ments. Where there is a question of the creative faculties,
where it is the divine essence itself is the matter of decision,
the world will occasionally be betrayed into mistakes, as fashion
and a passing enthusiasm may mislead it ; but, where it is the
practical and the real, the exercise of gifts by which men make
themselves rich and powerful, then the world makes no blunders.
She knows them as a mother knows her children. They are
indeed the "World's own."
We have come to these speculations by contemplating Mr.
Scanlan as he sat with Mary Martin's open letter before him.
The note was couched in polite terms, requesting Mr. Scanlan
to favour the writer with a visit at his earliest convenience — if
possible early on the following morning. Had it been a
document of suspected authenticity — a forged acceptance — an
interpolated article in a deed — a newly-discovered codicil to a
will — he could not have canvassed every syllable, scrutinised
HOW MR. SCANLAN GITES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE. 325
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 foi 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.
"She has need of me," cried he, to himself; "she sees
everything in a state of subversion and chaos around her,
and looks to me as the man to restore order. The people are
entreating her to stay law proceedings — to give them time — to
employ them — the poorest are all importuning her with stories
of their sufferings. She is powerless, and, what's worse, she
does not know what it is to be powerless to help them. She'll
struggle, and fret, and scheme, and plan fifty things, and when
she has failed in them all, fall back upon Maurice Scanlan for
advice and counsel."
It was a grave question with Scanlan how far he would suffer
her persecutions to proceed before he would come to her aid.
" If I bring my succour too early, she may never believe the
emergency was critical ; if I delay it too long, she may abandon
the field in despair, and set off to join her uncle." These were
the two propositions which he placed before himself for con-
sideration. It was a case for very delicate management, great
skill, and great patience, but it was well worth all the cost.
" If I succeed," said he, to himself, " I'm a made man. Mary
Martin Mrs. Scanlan, I'm the agent for the whole estate, with
Cro' Martin to live in, and all the property at my discretion.
If I fail — that is, if I fail without blundering — I'm just where
I was. Well," thought he, as he drove into the demesne, "I
never thought I'd have such a chance as this. All gone, and
she alone here by herself: none to advise, not one even to keep
her company ! I'd have given a thousand pounds down just for
this opportunity, without counting all the advantages I have in
my power from my present position, for I can do what I like
with the estate — give leases or break them. It will be four
months at least before old Repton comes down here, and in that
time I'll have finished whatever I want to do. And now to
begin the game." And with this he turned into the stable-
yard, and descended from his gig. Many men would have
326 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
been struck by the cbanged aspect of the place — silence and
desolation where before there were movement and bustle ; but
Scanlan only read in the altered appearances around, the
encouragement of his own ambitious hopes. The easy swagg'er
in which the attorney indulged while moving about the stable-
yard declined into a more becoming gait as he traversed the
long corridors, and finally became actually respectful as he
drew nigh the library, where he was informed Miss Martin
awaited him, so powerful was the influence of old habit over
the more vulgar instincts of his nature. He had intended to be
very familiar and at his ease, and ere he turned the handle of
the door his courage failed him.
" This is very kind of you, Mr. Scanlan," said she, advancing
a few steps towards him as he entered. "You must have
aiarted 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 some-
thing urgent."
Mary half smiled at the mingled air of bashfulness and
gallantry in which he uttered these broken sentences ; for with-
out knowing it himself, while he began in some confusion, he
attained a kind of confidence as he went on.
"jSTor 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 com-
|)Gtent 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 estranged afiections iti
leaves behind it."
"A i*eautiful sentiment, to which I respond with all my
HO\V MR. SCANLA^ GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE. 327
heart," rejoined Scankxn, 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
everything — even to the demesne around the Castle ; to sell the
timber and dispose of the royalties ? If so, a mere residence
here could have no object for me. It seems strange, Mr.
Scanlan, that I should have to ask such a question. I own to
you — it is not without some sense of humiliation that I do so —
I believed, I fancied I had understood my uncle's intentions.
Some of them he had even committed to writing, at my request ;
you shall see them yourself The excitement and confusion of
his departui'e — the anxieties of leave-taking — one thing or
another, in short, gave me little time to seek his counsel as to
many points I wished to know; and, in fact, I found myself
suddenly alone before I was quite prepared for it, and then I
fell ill — a mere passing attack, but enough to unfit me for
occupation."
"Breakfast is served, miss," said a maid-servant, at this
conjuncture, opening a door into a small room, where the table
was spread.
" I'm quite ready, and so I hope is Mr, Scanlan," said Mary,
leading the way.
No sooner seated at table than she proceeded to do the
honours with an ease that plainly told that all the subject of
her late discourse was to be left for the i:)resent in abeyance.
In fact, the very tone of her voice was changed, as she chatted
away carelessly about the borough people and their doings, what
strangers had lately passed through the town, and the prospects
of the coming season at Kilkieran.
No theme could more readily have put Mr. Scanlan at his
ease. He felt, or fancied he felt, himself at that degree of
social elevation above the Oughterard people, which enabled
him to talk with a species of compassionate jocularity of their
little dinners and evening parties. He criticised toilet, and
328 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
manners, and cookery, therefore, with much self-complacency —
far more than had he suspected that Mary Martin's amusement
was more derived from the pretension of the speaker than the
matter which he discussed.
" That's what I think you'll find hardest of all, Miss Martin,"
said he, at the close of a florid description of the borough
customs. " You can have no society here."
"And yet I mean to try," said she, smiling; "at least, I
have gone so far as to ask Mrs. Nelligan to come and dine with
me on Monday or Tuesday next."
"Mrs. Nelligan dine at Cro' Martin! " exclaimed he.
" If she will be good enough to come so far for so little! "
" She'd go fifty miles on the same errand ; and if I know old
Dan himself, he'll be a prouder man that day than when his son
gained the gold medal."
"Then I'm sure I, at least, am perfectly requited," said
Mary.
" But are you certain, miss, that such people will suit you ? "
said Scanlan, half timidly. "They live in a very different
style, and have other ways than yours. I say nothing against
Mrs. Nelligan ; indeed, she comes of a very respectable family ;
but sure she hasn't a thought nor an idea in common with Miss
Martin."
"' I suspect you are wrong there, Mr. Scanlan. My impres-
sion is, that Mrs. Nelligan and I will find many topics to agree
upon, and that we shall understand each other perfectly; and
if, as you suppose, there may be certain things new and strange
to me in Jier modes of thinking, I'm equally sure she'll have to
conquer many prejudices with regard to me."
" I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, miss ! " was the sententious
reply of Scanlan.
" Then there's our vicar! " broke in Mary. "Mr. Leslie will,
I hope, take pity on my solitude."
" Indeed, I forgot him entirely. I don't think I ever saw him
at Cro' Martin."
" Nor I either," said Mary ; " but he may concede from a
sense of khidness what he would decline to a mere point of
etiquette. In a word, Mr. Scanlan," said she, after a pause,
" all the troubles and misfortunes which we have lately gone
through — even to the destitution of the old house here — have
in a great measure had their origin in the studious ignorance in
which we have lived of our neighbours. I don't wish to enter
upon political topics, but I am sure, that had we known the
HOW MK, SCANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE. 329
borough people, and tbey as — had we been in the habit of
mingling- and associating together, however little — had we
interchanged the little civilities, that are the charities of social
life, we*d have paused, either of us, ere we gave pain to the
other ; we'd at least have made concessions on each side, and so
softened down the asperities of party. More than half the
enmities of the world are mere misconceptions."
" That's true ! " said Scanlan, gravely. But his thoughts had
gone on a very different errand from the theme in question, and
were busily inquiring what effect all these changes might have
upon his own prospects.
"And now for a matter of business," said Mary, rising and
taking her place at another table. " I shall want your assist-
ance, Mr. Scanlan. There is a small sum settled upon me, but
not payable during my uncle's life. I wish to raise a certain
amount of this, by way of loan — say a thousand pounds. Will
this be easily accomplished ? "
*' What's the amount of the settlement, miss ? " said Scanlan,
with more eagerness than was quite disinterested.
" Five thousand pounds. There is the deed." And she pushed
a parchment towards him.
Scanlan ran his practised eye rapidly over the document, and
with the quick craft of his calling saw it was all correct. " One
or even two thousand can be had uj)on this at once, miss. It's
charged upon Kelly's farm and the mills "
" AH I want to know is, that I can have this sum at my dis-
posal, and very soon ; at once, indeed,"
" Will next week suit you ? "
" Perfectly, And now to another point. These are the few
memoranda my uncle left with me as to his wishes respecting
the management of the estate. You will see that, although he
desires a considei'able diminution of the sum to be spent in
wages, and a strict economy in all outlay, that he still never
contemplated throwing the people out of employment. The
quarries were to be worked as before — the planting was to be
continued — the gardens and ornamental grounds, indeed, were
to be conducted with less expense ; but the harbour at Kilkiei'an
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
830 THE MARTINS OF CllO' MARTIN.
chatted away till long after two o'clock the last night he was
here, and I thought I understood perfectly all he wished.
Almost his last words to me at parting were, ' As little change
as possible, Molly. Let the poor people believe that I am still,
where my heart is, under the roof of Cro' Martin ! ' "
The recollection of the moment brought the tears to her eyes,
and she turned 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 which I
have never seen — not so much as heard of. He tells me of
works to be stopped, people discharged, school-houses closed,
tenants ejected ; in fact, a whole catalogue of such changes as
I never could have courage to see, much less carry through. I
know my dear uncle well ; he never would have imposed such a
task upon me, nor have I the resources within me for such an
undertaking."
"And have you received no letter from Mr, Martin, from
Duhlin ? " asked Scanlan,
" None — not a line ; a note from my aunt — indeed, not from
my aunt, but by her orders, written by Kate Henderson — has
reached me, in which, however, there is no allusion to the pro-
perty, or the place."
" And yet her ladyship said that Mr. Martin would write to
you himself, in the course of the week, fully and explicitly."
" To whom was this said, sir ? "
" To myself, miss ; there is the letter." And Scanlan drew
from his pocket-book a very voluminous epistle, in Kate Hen-
derson's hand. " This contains the whole of her ladyship's in-
structions. How all the works are to be stopped — roads, woods,
and quarries ; the townlands of Carrigalone and Killybogue to
be distrained; Kyle-a-Noe the same. If a tenant can be got
for the demesne, it is to be let, with the shooting over the seven
mountains, and the coast-fishing too. There's to be no more
charges for schools, hospital, or dispensary after next Novem-
ber ; everything is to be on the new plan, what they call ' Self-
supporting,' I'd like to know what that means. In fact, miss,
by the time one half the orders given in that same letter is
carried out, there won't be such another scene of misery and
confusion in all Ireland as the estate of Cro' Martin."
" And this is sanctioned by my uncle? "
" I suppose we must conclude it is, for ho says nothing to the
contrary; and Mr, Repton writes me what he calls ' my instruc-
HOW MR. SCAXLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GEXEK0U3 niPULSE. Sol
tions,' in a way that shows his own feeling of indignation about
the whole business."
Mary was silent ; there was not a sentiment which could give
pain that had not then its place in her heart. Coramisex'ation,
deep pity for the sorrows she was to witness unavailingly,
wounded pride, insulted self-esteem — all were there ! And she
turned away to hide the emotions which overcame her. For a
moment the sense of self had the mastery, and she thought but
of how she was to endure all this humiliation. " Am I," said
she to her own heart — " am I to be insulted by the rivalry of
Scotch stewards and gardeners, to be thrust from my place of
power by some low-born creature, not even of the soil, but an
alien ? — to live here bereft of influence, representing nothing
save the decay of our fortunes ? " The torrent of her passion
ran full and deep, and her bosom heaved in the agony of the
moment. And then as suddenly came the reaction. " How
small a share is mine in all this suflPering — and how miserably
selfish are even my sorrows. It is of othei's I should think !
— of those who must leave hearth and' home to seek out a new
resting-place — of the poor, who are to be friendless — of the
suffering, to whom no comfort is to come — of the old, who are
to die in distant lands — and the young, whose hearts are never
to warm to the affections of a native country ! "
While affecting to arrange the papers in his pocket-book,
Scanlan watched every passing shade of emotion in her face.
Nor was it a study in which he was ignorant; the habits of his
calling had made him a very subtle observer. Many a time
had he framed his question to a witness by some passing ex-
pression of the features. More than once had he penetrated
the heart through the eye ! The elevation of sentiment had
given its own character to her handsome face ; and as she
stood proudly erect, with arms folded on her breast, there
was in her look and attitude all the calm dignity of an antique
statue.
Scanlan interpreted truthfully what passed within her; and
rightly judged that no small sentiment of condolence or sym-
pathy would be appropriate to the occasion. Nor was he alto-
gether unprovided for the emergency. He had seen a king's
counsel warm up a jury to the boiling point, and heard him
pour forth, with all the seeming vehemence of an honest convic-
tion, the wildest rhapsodies about desecrated hearths and black-
ened roof-trees — talk of the spoiler and the seducer — and even
shed a tear " over the widow and the orphan ! "
332 TEE MAETINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
" What say you to all this sir ? " cried she. " Have you any
counsel to give me — any advice ? "
" It is just what I have not, miss," said he, despondingly ;
and, indeed, it was uppermost in my heart this morning when I
was writing my letter. What's all I'm suffering compared to
what Miss Martin must feel ? "
" What letter do you allude to ? " asked she, suddenly.
*' A letter I wrote to Mr. Repton, miss," said he, with a deep
sigh. " I told him plainly my mind about everything, and I
said, ' If it's for exterminating you are — if you're going to turn
out families that were on the land for centuries, and drive away
over the seas — God knows where — the poor people that thought
the name of Martin a shield against all the hardships of life,
all I have to say is, you must look elsewhere for help, since it
is not Maurice Scanlan will aid you.' "
*' You said all this, sir ? " broke she in, eagerly,
" I did, miss. I told him I'd hold the under-agency till he
named some one to succeed me; but that I'd not put my hand
to one act or deed to distress the tenants. It's giving up," said
I, " the best part of my means of support — it's surrendering
what I reckoned on to make me independent ; but a good con-
science is better than money, miss ; and if I must seek out a
new country, I'll go at least without the weight of a cruel
wrong over me, and if I see one of our poor Western people
beyond seas, I'll not be ashamed to meet him ! "
" Oh, that was noble — that was truly noble conduct ! " cried
she, grasping his hand in both her own. How I thank you
from my very heart for this magnanimity,"
" If I ever suspected you'd have said the half of this, Miss
Mary, the sacrifice would have been a cheap one indeed. But
in truth I never meant to tell it. I intended to have kept my
own secret ; for I knew if any one only imagined why it was
I threw up the agency, matters would only be worse on the
estate."
" Yes, you are right," said she, thoughtfully. " This was
most considerate. Such a censure would augment every diffi-
culty."
" I felt that, miss. What I said to myself was, ' My successor
will neither know the place nor the people ; he'll be cruel where
he ought to have mercy, and spare those that he ought to keep
to their duty.* It isn't in a day nor a week that a man learns
the habits of a large tenantry, nor was it without labour and
pains that I acquired my present influence amongst them."
HOW MR. SCANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GEXEROUS IMPULSE. 333
" Quite true," said she ; but more as though following out
her own reflections than hearing his.
" They'll have you, however," said Scanlan. " Yoii, 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 7J0U either, sir," cried Mary. " You will not desert
them, nor desert me. Recall your letter ! "
" It's not gone off to the post yet. I was waiting to see
you "
"Better still. Oh! Mr. Scanlan, bethink you how much yet
may be done for these poor people, if we will but forget our-
selves and what we think we owe to self-esteem. If yoti will
have sacrifices to make, believe me I shall not escape them also.
It is nobler, too, and finer to remain here bereft of influence,
stripped of all power, to share their sufferings and take part in
their afflictions. Neither you nor I shall be to them what we
have been ; but still, let us not abandon them. Tell me this —
say that you will stay to counsel and advise me — to guide me
where I need guidance, and give me all the benefit of your ex-
perience 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 sug-
gestive were they of the future ! With all the solemnity of a
vow he bound himself to stay ; and Mary thanked him with the
fervour of true gratitude.
If there be few emotions so pleasurable as to be the object of
acknowledged gratitude for real services, it may well be doubted
whether the consciousness of not having merited this reward
does not seriously detract from this enjoyment. There are men,
however, so constituted, that a successful scheme — no matter
how unscrupulously achieved — is always a triumph, and who
cherish their self-love even in degradation ! Maurice Scanlan
is before our reader, and whether he was one of this number it
is not for us to say ; enough if we record that when he cantered
homeward on that day he sang many a snatch of a stray ballad,
and none of them were sad ones.
334 niE MARTINS OF CRO' MAETIIT.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN.
Nothing is further from our intention than to enter upon the
long-vexed question as to the benefits of an Established Church
for Ireland. Wiser heads than ours have discussed it polemi-
cally, 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,
howevei", which no traveller in the country has ever failed to
be struck by, which is, that these settlements of Protestantism,
dotted through the land, are so many types of an advanced
civilization, suggesting, even to those of a different faith, respect
and veneration for the decorous observance of this Church, and
the calm peacefulness with which they keep the Sabbath.
Priests may denounce and politicians declaim, but the Irish
peasant, nurtured with all the prejudices of race and religion,
never throws off his veneration for the little flock, who, like a
brave garrison in a besieged land, hold manfully together round
the banner of their Faith ! How striking is this in remote
parts of the country, where the reformed religion has made
little progress, and its followers are few in number.
It was Sunday : the gates of Cro' Martin Park were open to
admit all who might repair to the church. When the Martins
were at home Lady Dorothea used to give to these occasions
somewhat of the state of a procession. The servants wore
their dress liveries; two carriages were in waiting. She her-
self appeared in a toilet that might have graced a Court chapel;
and a formal cereraoniousness of speech and demeanour were
ordained as the becoming recognition of the holy day. Trained
to these observances by many a year, Mary could scarcely com-
A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN. 335
prehend the strange sensation slie felt as she walked along to
church, unattended and alone. It was a bright day of early
summer, with a soft wind stirring the leaves above, and rippling
pleasantly the waters of the lake ; the perfume of the new hay
floated through the thin air, with the odour of the white thorn
and the meadow-sweet; the birds were singing merrily; and
through this gay carol came the mellow sound of the little bell
that summoned to prayer. There was a delicious sense of
repose in the stillness around, telling how, amid the cares and
contentions of life, its wealth seekings, and its petty schemes
there came moments when the better instincts were the victors,
and men, in all the diversities of their rank and station, could
meet together to kneel at one altar, and unite in one supplica-
tion. As she went, little glimpses were caught by her of the
distant country beyond the demesne ; and over all there
reigned the same tranquility ; 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 hei', at some little distance on the path, went the three
daughters of the village doctor ; and, though well and be-
comingly attired, there was nothing in their appearance to
warrant the reproach Lady Dorothea had cast upon their style
of dress. It was, indeed, scrupulously neat, but simple. The
eldest was a girl of about sixteen, with all the gravity of
manner and staid expression that belongs to those who stand in
the light of mothers to younger sisters. The housekeeper of
her father's little home, the manager of all within its humble
household, his secretary, his companion, Ellen Cloves had
acquired, while little more than a child, the patient and sub-
missive temper that long worldly trial confers. They lived
perfectly to themselves : between the society of the Castle and
that of the farmers around there was no intermediate territory,
and thus they passed their lives in a little circle of home duties
and affections, which made up all their world.
Mary Martin had often wished it in her power to show them
some attentions ; she was attracted by tJtj^ir je;entle faces and
336 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
their calm and happy demeanour. Had her aunt permitted,
she would have frequently invited them to the castle; lent
them books and music, and sought companionship in their
intercourse. But Lady Dorothea would not have heard of such
a project ; her theory was that familiarity with the peasant was
so far safe that his station was a safeguard against any undue
intimacy ; while your half-gentry were truly perilous, for if you
condescended to civility with them, they invariably mistook it
for a friendship. Doctor Cloves dined every Christmas day at
the great house ; but so did Mr. Scanlan and all the other
heads of departments. It was a very grand and solemn
festival, where neither host nor guest was happy ; each felt that
it was but the acquaintance of an hour, and that with the
moment of leave-taking came back all the cold reserve of the
day before.
'■' Good morning. Miss Cloves ; good day, Jane, and little
Bessy," said Mary, as she overtook them.
" Good morning to you, Miss Martin," said Ellen, blushing
with surprise at seeing her alone and on foot.
" I trust the doctor is not ill ? I don't see him with
you," said Mary, anxious to i-elieve her momentary embarrass-
ment.
" Papa has been sent for to Knocktiernan, Miss Martin.
They're afraid that a case of cholera has occurred there."
" May God forbid ! " ejaculated Mary, with deep emotion ;
" we have great distress and poverty around us. I hope we
may be spared this scourge."
"It is what papa feared always," rejoined Ellen, gravely,
" that want and destitution would iDring on the malady."
" Have you heard who it is is ill ? "
•' Simon Hanley, the carpenter. Miss Martin ; he worked at
the Castle once "
'• Yes, yes, I remember him ; he made me my first little
garden-rake. Poor fellow ! And he has a large family. Your
father will, I trust, have seen him in time. Knocktiernan is
but four miles of a good road."
" Papa went by the Mills, Miss Martin, for shortness, for he
was on foot."
"Why did he not ride?"
"He has sold Bluebell— the pony, T mean, Miss Martin."
" Mary's face became crimson with a blush that seemed to
burn through the forehead into her very brain, and she could
only mutter, —
A SUNDAY MOrXi:;G AT CUO' MARTIN. 337
" I'm sorry T didn't know ; my cain-ing-e and pony were in tlio
stable. If I had bat beard of this' " and was silent.
They bad now reached the entrance to the little churchyard,
where the few members of the small flock lingered, awaiting
the arrival of the clergyman. Amidst many a respectful
salutation and g'aze of atlectionate interest, Mary walked to the
end of the aisle, where, shrouded in heavy curtains, soft-
cushion<)d and high-pannelled, stood the Castle pew.
It must be indeed bard for the rich man to enter the king-
dom of heaven. The very appliances of his piety are the off-
shoots of his voluptuous habits ; and that bis heart should feel
humble, bis hassock must be of down ! It was not often that
the words of the pastor were heard within that solemn, small
enclosure with tlie same reverend devotion. Mary was now
alone there : her mind no longer distracted by the petty inci-
dents 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 bad heard of the terrible visitation which menaced
them, and made it the subject of his sermon. The fact of bis
own great age and fast declining strength gave a deeper mean-
ing to all bo said, and imparted to the faltering words of his
benediction the solemnity of a farewell.
" You are a little fatigued to-day, doctor," said Mary, as he
came out of church. " Will you allow rae to offer you ray
arm ? "
" Willingly, my dear Miss Mary. But this is not our
road."
"Why so? — this is the path to the Vicarage."
"They've made some change, my dear ; they've altered the
approach."
" And you came round by the avenue — a distance of two
miles ? " cried she, deep crimson with shame.
"And kept you all waiting; but not very long, I trust," said
be, 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 uncle " She stopped, and he pressed her hand
gently, and said, —
" Do not speak of it — do not give importance to things which
are trifles, if we have but good temper to leave them so. Is to-
morrow a free day with you; or when shall I hope to find you
at leisure ? "
23
338 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"My dear doctor, every day will be so in future — all my
functions have ceased here. I am to be nothing in future."
"I had heard something of that, and I said to myself, 'Now
will Mary Martin display her real character. No longer carried
away by the mere enthusiasm of her great power and her high
station — not exalted to herself by the flatteries around her — wo
shall see whether the sterling qualities of her nature will not
supply higher and greater resourses than all the credit at a
banker's ! ' I never undervalued all 5'^ou did here, IMary Martin ;
I saw your noble puri^ose, 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; end it was a luxury very easy to purchase. You were
rich — you were powerful — none controlled you ; your benefits
were acknowledged with all the enthusiasm of peasant gratitude.
Why should you not be beneficent ? — what other course of con-
duct could bring you one half the pleasure ? For the future, it
is from another source you must dispense wealth ; but happily
it is one which there is no exhausting — for the heart exercised
to charity has boundless stores. Let these be your riches now.
Go amongst the people ; learn to know them — rather their friend
than their benefactor — and, believe me, that all the gold you
have scattered so generously, will not have sown such seeds
of goodness as the meek example of your own noble sub-
mission to altered fortune. There, my dear," said he, smiling,
" I'll say no moi'e, 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. " Tliere are so many things I want to say — so
much on which I need advice."
" I'm but little practised in the ways of the world," said he,
with a gentle sigh, "but I have ever found great wisdom in an
honest purpose ; and then," added he, more warmly, " it is a
fine philosophy, that secures us against humiliation, even in
defeat!"
They now walked along for some time without speaking,
when a sudden angle of the path brought them directly in front
of the Castle. They both halted suddenly, struck as it were by
the aspect of the spacious and splendid structure, all silent and
deserted. The doors were closed, the windows shuttered — not a
living creature moved about the precincts — and the lone flag-
BtaiT on the tower unfurled no "banner to the breeze." Even
A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN. 339
the trimly-kept parterres were beginning' to show signs of
iieglect, and tangled flowers fell across the gravel.
"What a lonely home for her!" muttered the old doctor, to
himself; then suddenly exclaimed, "Here comes some one ia
search of you, Miss Martin."
And a servant approached and whispered a few words in her
ear.
" Yes, immediately," said she, in reply.
She entreated the old man to rest himself for a while ere he
continued his walk homeward; but he declined, and with an
affectionate farewell they parted, he towards the Vicarage, and
she to re-enter the Castle.
There is no need to practise mystery with our reader; and he
■who had just arrived, and was eager to see Miss Martin, wiis
only Maurice Scanlan ! As little use is there also in denying
the fact that Mary was much annoyed at his inopportune
coming. She was in no mood of mind to meet either him or
such topics as he would certainly discuss. However, she had,
so to say, given him a permission to be admitted at all times,
and there was no help for it !
These same people that one " must see," are very terrible
inflictions sometimes. They are ever present at the wrong time
and the wrong place. They come in moments when their pre-
sence is a discord to all our thoughts; and what is to the full as
bad, they don't know it — or they will not know it. They have
a,n 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 tlie 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
affiiirs. Though not over-sanguine about others, Maurice was
always hopeful of himself. It is one of the characteristics of
such men, and one of the greatest aids to their activity, this
ever-present belief in themselves. To secure the good opinion
23—2
340 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
he had alrendy excited in his favour, was now his great en-
deavour; and nothing could so effectually contribute to this, as
to show an ai'dent zeal and devotion to her wishes. He had
read somewhere of a certain envoy who had accomplished his
mission ei"e it was believed he had set out — and he resolved to
profit by the example. It was, then, in the full confidence of
success, that he presented himself on this occasion.
Mary received him calmly — almost coldly : his presence was
not in harmony with any thought that occupied her, and she
deemed the task of admitting him something like an infliction,
"I drove over. Miss Mary," said he, rather disconcerted by
her reserve — " I drove over, to-day, though I know you don't
like business on a Sunda}', 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."
" You have been very kind, and very prompt, sii'," said she,
thankfully, but with a languor that showed she was not think-
ing 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 hai'd hand to deal with."
It Avas evident that he hoped her curiosity might have in-
quired 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, speakin»
only to gain time for further observation, "and there's worse
times, even, before us."
If Mai^y 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, afc
last. " I find I can think of nothing — I am in one of my idle
moods."
"To be sure, why not. Miss Mary ? " said he, evidently piqued
at the ill-success of all his zeal. " It was I made a mistake. I
fancied, somehow, you were anxious about this little matter;
but another day will do as well — whenever it's your own cou-
vcnience."
A SDND.AY irORXlXG AT CRO' MARTIN. 341
"You are always considerate, always good-natured, Mr.
Scanlan," said she, with a vagueness that showed she was
scarcely conscious of what she uttered.
"If you think so, Miss Mary, I'm well repaid," said he, with
a dash of gallantry in the tone ; " nor is it by a trifle like this
I'd like to show my — my — my devotion." And the last word
came out with an effort that made his face crimson.
"Yes! " muttei'ed she, not hearing one word of his speech.
*' So that I'll come over to-mon-ow, Miss Mary," broke he in.
"Very well — to-raori'ow ! " replied she, as still musing she
turned to the window, no more thinking of the luckless attorney
than if he had been miles away ; and when at length she did
look around, he was gone ! It was some minutes ere Mary
could perfectly reconcile herself to the fact that he had been
there at all ; but as to how, and when, and why he took his
leave, were mysteries of which she could make nothing. And
yet Mr. Scanlan had gone through a very ceremonious farewell :
be 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 dis-
comfiture as so confident a spirit could well experience, muttering,
as he paced the corridor, certain prospective reprisals for this
haughty indifference, when a certain time should arrive, and a
certain fair lady But we have no right to push his
speculations further than he himself indulged them, and ou 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 alwa^'s."
" She understands a stable well," said Scanlan, half question-
ing.
'" "Doesn't she? "said the othei', with a sententious smack of
the lip. " To bit a horse or to back him — to tache him his paces
and cure him of bad tricks — to train him for harness, double
and single — to show him the way over a wall, or a wide ditch
— to make him rise light and come down easy, she 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!**
3-12 TIIE MARTIXS OF CRO' MARTIN.
And Barnes disappeared into the stable. In five minutes after,
he returned, leading a dark brown horse, who, even shrouded in
all the covering of hood and body-clothes, displayed in his lon^
step and lounging gait the attributes of a racer.
In a few minutes Barnes had unbuckled strap and surcingle,
and sweeping back the blankets dexterously over the croujD, so
as not to ruffle a hair of the glossy coat, exhibited an animal of
surpassing symmetry, in all the pride of high condition.
" There's a beast ! " said he, proudly, " without speck or spot,
brand or blemish about him ! You're a good judge of a horse,
Mr. Scanlan, and tell me when did you see his equal ? "
*' He's a nice horse ! " said Scanlan, slowly, giving to each
word a slow and solemn significance. Then, casting a keen
glance all around and over him, added, "There's a splint on the
off-leg ! "
" So there is, the least taste in life," said Barnes, passing his
hand lightly over it ; " and was there ever a horse — worth the
Dame of a horse — that hadn't a splint? Sure, they're foaled
with them! I wanted Miss Mary to let me take tliat 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
Bot blemish him with a mark.' Them's her very words."
*' He's a nice horse," said Scanlan, once more, as if the very
parsimony of the praise was the highest testimony of the
ntterer; "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 race — he's entered and all — and now
he's to be sold — them's the orders I got yesterday — he's to be
auctioned at Dycer's on Saturday for whatever he'll bring ! "
"And now, what do you expect for him, Barnes?" said
Maurice, confidentially.
" Sorrow one o' me knows. He might go for fifty — he
might go for two hundred and fifty! and cheap he'd be of it.
He has racing speed over a flat course, and 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
i
A SUNDAY MORNING AT CRO' MARTIN, 3i3
Mary wouldn't object to give you the boy, jacket and all, her
O^Yn colours — blue, with white sleeves."
*' Do you think so, Barnes ? Do you think she'd let me run
him in the Martin colours? " cried Scanlan, to whom the project
now had suddenly assumed a most fascinating aspect.
"What would you give for him?" asked Barnes, in a
business-like voice.
"A hundred — a hundred and fifty — two hundred, if I was
sure of what you say."
" Leave it to me, sir — leave it all to me," said Barnes, with
the gravity of a di2olomatist who understood his mission.
" Where can I see you to-morrow ? "
" I'll be here about ten o'clock ! "
"That will do — enough said!" And Barnes, replacing the
horse-sheet, slowly re-entered the stable ; while Scanlan, put-
ting 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 !
MH. IIF.KMAX JTCP.r,.
CHAPTER XXX.
MR. HERMAN MERL.
This rnucli-abused world of oui's, railed at by divines, sneered
down by cynics, slighted by philosophers, has still some marvel-
lously pleasant things about it, amongst which, first and fore-
most, /ac/Ze 'prlticeps, is Paris! In every other city of Eui'ope
there is a life to be learned and acquired just like a new lan-
guage. 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 anything beyond
penalties on your time and your patience. But Paris demands
uo such sacrifices. To enjoy it, no apprenticeship is required.
You become free of the Guild at the Porte St. Denis, By the
time you reach the Boulevards joxx have ceased to be a sti'anger.
You enter the "Freres" at dinner-hour like an old habitue.
The atmosphere of light, elastic gaiety around you, the tone of
charming politeness that meets your commonest inquiiy, the
courtesy bestowed upon your character as a foreigner, are all as
exhilarating in their own way as 3^our spai-kling- glass of Moet
sipped in the window, from which j^ou look down on plashing
fountains, laughing children, and dark-eyed grisettes ! The
whole thing in its bustle and movement, its splendour, sun-
light, gilded furniture, mirrors, and smart toilettes, is a piece of
natural magic, with this difference — that its effect is ever uev?
— ever surprising !
346 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
Sad and sorrowful faces are, of course, to be met witli, since
grief has its portion everywhere; but that air of languid in-
difference, that look of wearied endurance, which we charac-
terise 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 tlie square beneath, stood a young- man, every line of
whose features conveyed this same expression. He had,
although not really above twenty-four or twenty-five, the
appeai-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 colour-
less, 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
o?ie side of his head, and in his hand he held a handsome
meerschaum, which, half mechanically, 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 what 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
corroborated by the splendour of a very flashy silk waistcoat,
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 m the character of his face.
The eyes were not dark, the nose not aquiline ; the hair, indeed,
had the wavy massiveness of the Hebrew race ; but Mr. Merl
was a " Red Jew," and the Red Jew, like the red partridge, is a
species per se.
There was an ostentatious pretension in the " get up" of this
gentleman. His moustache, his beard, his wrist-buttons, his
shirt-studs, the camelia in his coat — all, even to the heels of
his boots, had been made studies, either to correct a natural
MR. HERMAN MERL. 347
defect, or show off what he fancied a natural advantage. He
seemed to have studied colour like a painter, for his dark bi-own
frock was in true keeping with the tint of his skin ; and yet,
despite these painstaking efforts, the man was indelibly, hope-
lessly vulgar. Everything about him was imitation, but it was
imitation that only displayed its own shortcomings.
" 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.
" Why, you are forgetting all the speculations that used to
amuse us on the voyage — the delicious little dinners we were to
enjoy at the 'Rochei',' the tempting dejeuners at 'Votbur's.'
By Jove ! how hungry you used to make me, with your descrip-
tions 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? "
But 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 ? "
But he never deigned an answer, and resumed his walk.
" I wish you'd send away that hissing tea-kettle, it reminds
nae of a steam-boat," said the captain, peevishly; "that is, if
you have done with it."
. " So it does," said the other, rising to ring the bell ; " there's
the same discordant noise, and the — the — the " But the
rest of the similitude wouldn't come, and Mr. Merl covered his
retreat with the process of lighting a cigar — an invaluable ex-
pedient that had served to aid many a more ready debater in
like difficulty.
It would be a somewhat tedious, perhaps not a very profit-
able task, to inquire how two men, so palpably dissimilar, had
thus become 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 vei'y select society of the place, he met Mr. Merl. Now
Mr. Merl had been at Ceylou, where he had something to do
StlS THR HARTIKS OF CRO' MARTIN.
with a coHee 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 pui-se, and what our friends over the Strait would
term an " industrial spirit." Messes had occasionally invited
him to their tables. Men in society got the habit of seeing
him " about," and he was in the enjoyment of that kind of
tolerance which 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,
with pale ale, and even iced champagne, to be had for asking.
There was play, too; and although Merl was a considerable
winner, he managed never to incur the jealous enmity that
winning so often imposes. He was the most courteous of gam-
blers ; he never did a sharp thing ; never enforced a strict rule
upon a novice of the game ; tolerated every imaginable blunder
of his partner 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, IMr. 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 remai'ked of
him that he 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 observer, this might have savoured a
little too much of a system; but shrewd observers are, after all,
not the current coin in the society of young men, and Merl's
conduct was eminently successful.
ilerl suited Martin admirably. Martin was that species of
man which, of all others, is mo=t assailable by flattery. A man
of small accomplishments, he sang a little, rode a little, played,
drew, fenced, fished, short — al), 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,
worse than this, it shrouds its possessor in a trij^le mail of
vanit}^ that makes him the easy prey of all who minister to it.
We seldom consider how much locality influences our intima-
cies, and how impossible it had been for us even to know in
some places the people we have made friends of in another.
MR. EERMAX MERL. 349
HaiTy !Martin would as soon liave though fc of proposing' his
valet at " Brookes's," as walk down Bond-street with Mr. Merl.
Had he met him in London, every chai-acteristic of the man
would there have stood out in all the strong- glare of conti-ast,
but at the Cape it was ditfercnt. Criticism would have been
misplaced where all was irregular, and the hundred little traits
— any oi;o of which would have shocked him 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 Mei'l's, only conceived the evening before
she sailed; but Martin had lost a considerable sum at piquet to
him on that night, and when signing the acceptances for pa}*-
incnt, since he had not the ready money, somewhat peevishly
remarked, that it was hard he should not have his revenge.
Whereupon Merl, tossing off a bum23er 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 Eljjhlnstone." And he did so, and he gave
the captain his revenge! But of all the passions, there is not
one less pi-ofitabl ■ to indulge in. They played morning, noon,
and night, thi'ougii long days of sic-kening 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 when he boarded
them in the Downs. Martin had grown much older during
that same voyage ; his temper, too, usually imbued with the
easy indolence of his father's nature, had gi'own impatient and
fretful. A galling sense of inferiority to Merl 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 ibr Merl, his well-
schooled faculties never were ruffled nor excited. The game
had no power to fascinate liim, its vicissitudes had nothing new
or surprising to him ; intervals of ill-luck, days even of dubious
fortune might occur, but ho 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 Elphinstone would
arrive at last, and, a day sooner or a day later, discharge pas-
sengers and freight on the banks of the Thames.
You may Ibrgive the man who has rivalled you in love — the
banker, whose "smash" has engulphed all your fortune — the
350 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
violent political antagonist, who has assailed you personally,
and in the Hoiise, perhaps, answered the best speech you ever
made, by a withering reply. You may extend feelings of
Christian charity to the reviewer who has "slashed" your new
novel — the lawj-cr, whose vindictive eloquence has exposed —
the artist in Punch 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 iio feelings of the gambler — you may be of those to
whom this fatal vice has never appealed, or a^ipealed in vain ;
but if 3'ou have " pla3'ed," 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 present 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. You may sneer at his manners — scoff at his
abilities— ridicule his dress — laugh at his vulgarit}''; poor
reprisals these ! In his presence, the sense of that one supe-
riority he possesses over you makes you quail ! In the stern
conflict, where j^our destiny and jonr capacity seem alike at
issue, he conquers you — not to-day, or to-morrow, but ever and
always! There he sits, arbiter of 3'our fate — only doubtful how
long he may defer the day of your sentence !
It is something" in the vague indistinctness of this power —
sometliing that seems to typify the agency of the Evil One
himself, that at once tortures and subdues ^''ou; and you ever
hurry into fresh conflict with the ever present consciousness of
fresh defeat! We might have spared our reader this discursive
essay but that it pertains to our stor3\ 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 in 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 v/in back again all
he had ever lost, and stand free and unembarrassed as in the
first hour he had met him! Fifty times had he consulted
MR. HERMAN MERL. 35]^
Fortune, as it were, to ask if this moment liacT yet arrived; but
hitherto ever unsuccessfully — Merl won on as before. Martin,
however, invariably ceased playing when he discovered that his
ill-kick continued. It was an experiment — a mere pilot-balloon
to Destiny; and when he saw the direction adverse, he did not
adventure on the grand ascent. It was impossible 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 thoroughl}' familiar.
Close intimacies, popularly called friendships, have alwa3'3
their secret motive, if we 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 in Paris with his familj^,
when a brief note informed him that Merl had arrived there.
He despatched an answer still briefer, asking him to breakfast
on the following morning; and it was in the acceptance of this
same invitation we have now seen him.
" Who's hei'e just now ? " said Merl, throwing down his
napkin and pushing his chair a little back from the table, while
he disposed his short fat legs into what he fancied was a most
graceful attitude.
" Here ? Do you mean in Paris ? " rejoined Martin, pettishly;
for he never suffered so painfully under this man's intimacy as
when his manners assumed the pretension of fashion.
" Yes — of course — I mean, who's in Paris ? "
" There are, I believe, about fortj^-odd thousand of our countrj'-
nien and countrywomen," said the other, half contemptuously.
"Oh, I've uo doubt; but my question took narrower bounds.
I meant, who of our set — who of us ? "
Martin 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 ifc
admirably; but these etibrts, after all, are only like the brief
intervals a man can live under water, and where the 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 without uttering a word.
352 THE MARTINS OF CllO' MARilN.
Merl opened the iiewspapei", and affected to read; liis liand,
liowover, 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.
"Vv^'hat 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 mo-
mentary terror. " Lord Claude Willoug-hby or Sir Spencer
Cavendish would be the .men if we could find them."
"Lord Claude, I pei'cdve, is here; the paper mentions his
name in the dinner company at the Embassy yesterday."
" Do you know liim ? " asked Martin, with an air of innocence
that Merl well comprehended as insult.
"No. We've met — I think we've played together — T re-
member 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.
MB. MEBL.
3-53
CHAPTER 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 designated 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 unattainable by
imitation, and a charm all their own !
Of all the 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
thei'e 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 Martin, with a supercilious glance at
Merl, who was endeavouring in a dozen unsuccessful ways to
seem unaware of the new arrival's presence.
24
354 TBE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" I want to introduce him to you," said Martin.
" No, no, my dear friend, on no account."
" I must — there's no help for it," said Martin, impatiently,
while he whispered something eagerly in the other's ear.
" Well, then — some other day — another time '*
"Here, and now, Claude," said Martin, peremptorily; whilQ,
without waiting for reply, he said aloud, " Merl, I wish to pro-
sent you to Lord Claude Willoughby — Lord Claude, Mr. Hei-mau
Merl."
Merl bowed, and smirked, and writhed, as his lordship, with
a bland smile and a very slight bow, acknowledged the pre-
sentation.
"Had the pleasure of meeting your lordship at Baden two
summers ago," said the Jew, with an air meant to be the ideal
of fashionable ease.
" I was 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 im-
pertinence.
" The man who can win at rouge-et-noir can do anything, in
my opinion," said Merl.
" What odds are you taking on Rufus ? " said IMartin to
Willoughby, 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 Rufus your lordship's horse ? " said the Jew, insinu-
atinf^ly.
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 four-
teen to one."
" I understand 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
MK. SIERL. ,355
applied a liglit 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 ? "
" Oh, ponies, my lord. I only meant it, just as I said, to
give me something to care for in the race."
" Will you put him up at the ' Cercle ' after that ? " whis-
pered 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 Cavendish's." And at the same instant Martin
opened the window, and made a signal with his handkerchief.
" That's the thing for ijou, 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 start-
ing an equipage to chance upon one of Cavendish's. He has
not only such consummate taste in carriage and harness, but he
makes his nags perfection."
" 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
bargain," said a very diminutive, shrewd-looking man of about
. five-and-thirty, who entered the room with great affectation of
juvenility. " I bought him for a cab, never expecting to ' see
his like again,' as Shakspeare says.'*
" And you offered the whole concern yesterday to Damremont
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 w^as he that proposed fifty thousand. Mine was
a handsome ofier, I think."
" I call it a most munificent one," said Martin. " By the
way, you don't know my friend here, Mr. Merl, Sir Spender
Cavendish." And the baronet stuck his glass in his eye and
scanned the stranger as unscrupulously as though he wero a
hack at Tattersall's.
" Where 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
356 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
tnrn-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. You 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 objec-
tion," said Martin. But the baronet's face looked anything but
concurrence with the proposal.
" Take them a turn round the Bois da Boulogne, Merl," said
Martin, laughing at his friend's distress.
"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
Rue Rivoli "
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 recogni-
tion — a faint approach to an intimation that said, "I'm per-
suaded 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 wouldn't
miss his drive in the Champs Elysees for any consideration."
" Gentlemen, I am your very humble and much obliged ser-
vant ! " said Cavendish, as soon as Merl had quitted the room.
" If that distinguished friend of yours should not buy my car-
riage "
"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.
MR. MERL. 357
"Does Vie lend any sura from five handi'ed to twenty thousand
on equitable terms on approved personal security ? " said Caven-
dish, 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 wasn'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 proposed seating himself in my 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 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 tendei'est fellow in the world," said
Cavendish, " 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, HaiTy ? " 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,
stretching out his legs, he contemplated the shape and lustre of
his admirably-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
Willoughby.
'-' Eh, what? At the ' Cercle,' do you mean ? "
" Why not ? Is it so very select ? "
" No, not exactly that ; there are the due pi'oportions of odd
I'eputations, half reputations, and no reputations ; but remember,
358 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
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 unappeasable 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. Mer-l would relinquish his claim
on some thousand pounds, even for the honour of being the
Club colleague of Sir Spencer Cavendish."
" Then I know him better," said the 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 cold, calm, and impassive, never
depressed by ill-luck, as little elated by good, we fall into the
mistake of esteeming them 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 cal-
culations, all their artful schemes, dissolve into thin air, at the
bare prospect of being recognised ' in society.' I have studied
this flaw in them 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 ray 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."
MR. MERL. g5'9
^'Tlien wlint am I to do? I have given a sort of a pledge.
He is not easily put olf — he does not lightly relinquish an
object."
"Take him off 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 travellei's. 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
horseflesh ? " said Martin, as he entered.
" They're nice hacks — very smart."
"Nice hacks!" broke in Cavendish, "why, sir, they're both
thoroughbred ; the near horse is by Tiger out of a Crescent
mare, and the off one won the Acton steeplechase. When you
said hacks, therefore, you made a cruel blunder,"
"Well, it's what a friend of mine called them just now," said
Merl ; " and remarked, moreover, that the large horse had been
slightly fired on the — the I forget the name he gave it."
" You probably remember your friend's name better," said
Cavendish, sneeringly. " Who was he, pray ? "
" i\Iassingbred — 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, Mei-l ? " 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 pi'ecious 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 Spencer," said
Merl, who accepted the Baronet's correction with admirable
self-control.
"No, sir; perfectly impossible; take my word for it, any
transaction would be difiicult between us. Good-by, Martin:
360 THB MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
adieu Claude.** And with this brief leave-taking the peppery
Sir Spencer left the room, more flashed 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
accentuation of the " initial, H," " and he was right in saying
that dealings would be difficult between us."
" You mentioned Massingbred a while ago, Merl, Why not
ask him to second you at the Club," said Martin, rousing himself
suddenly from a train of thought.
" Well, somehow, 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 lie never gave you any reason to suspect a
coldness between us, I know that I 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 crafty maxim of
the French moralist, 'Always treat your enemies as though
one day they were to become your friends.' " And with this
commonplace, uttered in a tone and with a manner that 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 much 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 Willoughby,
anxiously.
" Play matters, play debts, loans, securities, post-obits, and
every other blessed contrivance you can think of to swamp a
MR. MERL. 361
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 treatment 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 ad-
mirable 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 thou-
sands, 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."
"Will you put up 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 gentleman had, however, already departed, to the no small
astonishment of Martin, who now threw 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
money — for the play-table — by pledging valuable reversions of
various kinds, for Merl somehow was the easiest of all people
to deal with ; one might have fancied that he lent his money
only to afford himself an occasion of sympathy with 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
investigation, 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 familiar 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 ex-
cessively difficult to describe, which is not connoisseurship, but
3G2
THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
whicli 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 than for the winning seat at
cards; he could not be warped from his true intei-ests by any
passing -frhim, and whether he cheapened a Correggio or dis-
counted a bill, he was the same calm, dispassionate calculator
of the profit to come of the transaction.
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 wonderfully little new to
record ; the Jew lender and his associates, the renewed 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 be-
ginning " Dear Moses," which would argue most ill-chosen in-
timacies. These are all old stories, and the Times and the
Chronicle are full of them. There is a teiTlble sameness about
them, too. The dupe and the villain ai'e stock characters that
never change, and the incidents are precisely alike in every case.
Humble folk, who are too low for fashionable follies, wonder
how the self-same artifices have always the same success, and
cannot conceal their astonishment at the innocence of our young
men about town ; and yet the mystery is easily solved. The
dupe is, in these cases, just as unprincipled as his betrayer, and
their negotiation is simply a game of skill, in which Israel ia
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, wc decline to keep him company in his ponderings
over them. 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.
A YOUXG DUCHESS AND AN OLD FRIEND. 3^3
CHAPTEil XXXII.
A YOUNG DUCHESS AND AN OLD FRTEND.
Like a vast number of people wlio have passed years in re-
tirement, Lady Dorothea was marvellousl}' disappointed t"ith
" 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 venei-ation 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 mucia
as heard of her. The great houses of the Faubourg were there,
it is true ; but with reduced households and dimly-lighted
salons, they were but sorry representatives of the splendour her
memory had invested them with.
Now the Martins were installed in one of the finest apart-
ments of the finest quarter in Paris. They were people of un-
questionable 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 the Joneses or the
Smiths, "out" for a month's pleasuring 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 some scheme of amusement or enjoyment,
while they returned moodily to their handsome quarter, as
much excluded from all participation in what went on around
them as though they were natives of Hayti.
Martin sauntered down to the reading-room, hoping vainly to
364 THE MARTKS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 dis.
contented criticism upon the tiresome place and the odious
people who filled it. Paris was, 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 ruffled, and
her equanimity unbalanced by such disappointments ? In vain
she perused 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. The captain only frequented
the club, and could best chronicle the names that were great at
whist or illustrious at billiards.
" It surely cannot be the season here," cried she, one morn-
ing, 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, Rochefoucaulds,
Howards of Maiden, and Greys of Allin^ton, 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 ex-
changed 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 Courcelles, and Madame
de Mirecourt."
" That Madame de Luygnes was your old mistress, was she
not, Miss Henderson ? " asked Lady Dorothea, haughtily.
A YOUNG DUCHESS AND AN OLD FRIEND. 365
" Yes, 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 car-
riage 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 you. And she was your companion — your dear
friend — long ago ? "
" Yes, my 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 mai'ried — she had
other things to think of? "
" I'm afraid, my lady, the lapse was on my 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 duchesse, in my last lettei', that I should write no
more — that my life was thrown in a wild, unfrequented I'egion,
where no incident broke the monotony, and that were I to con-
tinue our correspondence, my letters must degenerate into a
mere selfish 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 was 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.
" I hope you included the family in your dreary picture. I
366 THE MxVRTlNS OF CRO' MARTIN.
trust it was not a mere piece of what artists call still life, Miss
Hendei'son ? "
" 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 be 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 Dachesse 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 suspect, 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 off," said Martin, rising suddenly to make his escape.
"And I too," said the captain, as he made his exit by an
opposite door.
The folding-doors of the apartment were at the same moment
thrown wide, and the duchess entered. Very young — almost
girlish, indeed — she combined in her appearance the charming
freshness of youth with that perfection of gracefulness which
attaches to the higher classes of French society, and although
handsome, more striking from the fascination of manner than
for any traits of beauty. Curtseying slightly, but deferentially,
to Lady Dorothea, she apologised for her intrusion by the cir-
cumstance of having, the day before, caught sight of her " dear
governess and dear friend " And as she reached thus far,
the deep-drawn breathing of another attracted 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 ! You
would forgive me, madam," said she, addressing Lady Dorothea,
" 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
were — was the only reply to the speech ; but the young French-
woman needed none, but turning to her ladyship, poured forth
with native volubility a story of their friendship, the graceful
A YOUNG DUCHESS AND AN OLD FRIEND. 36?
language in which she uttered it lending those choice phrases
which never seem exaggerations of sentiment till they be
translated into other tongues. Mingling her praises with half
reproaches, she drew 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 governess.
" And now, dearest," added she, turning to Kate, " are we to
see a great deal of each other? When can you come to me?
Pardon me, madam, 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 acknowledge 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 duch-
esse. " Paris is so gay j ust 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, stiffly.
"How strange; and I — I cannot live without it. Even when
we go to our Chateau at Roche-Mire I carry away with me all
my friends who will consent to come. We try to imitate tl>at
delightful life of your couuti-y-houses and make up that great
£amijy party which is the heau 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, she evening vralks in the trellised vines, the parties one
makes to see a thousand things one never looks at afterwards ;
the Ir'itle dinners on the grass, with all their disasters, and the
moa-xight drive homewards, half joyous, half romantic — not
to speak of that charming 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 any-
thing."
368 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"Madame la Duclies3 will, I'm sure, excuse my absence; she
has doubtless many things she would 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 youVe not speaking, your brows grow stern
and your lips compressed. Your 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 Florian, Kate!"
" Nor even of him."
"And yet that poor fellow 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 something or other that swears to
annihilate all Kings and extirpate Monarchy."
" And after that ? " asked Kate, with more of interest.
" After that, ma chere, 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 some-
body 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 — the 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
acquaintance 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 ? *'
A YOUXG L'UCHESS A^'D AN OLD FrJEND. SG9
"I'm afraid not," said Kate, with a smile. "They do nit
seem at all impressed with the blessing- they eujoy, and only
treat me as one of themselves."
"But, seriousl}', child, are they as kind as they should be?
That old lady is, to my thinking-, as austere as an Arch-
duchess."
"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 fur 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. You know she is everything'
liere ; 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 duchess quickly rejoined :
"No deai-est, you are quite right; it would be hazardous, too
abrupt, too unceremonious. You 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
lono- 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, that my life since we met has been one, and
that we had never parted."
" "Were we not very happy then, Kate ? " said the duchess,
with a half-sigh; "happier, perhaps, than we may ever be
asrain.'*
° 25
370 THE MARTINS UF CRO' MARTIN.
*' You must not say so, at all events," said Kate, once more
embracing 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.
" Poor fellow," said she, at length, " a galley-slave, and
Massingbred a celebrity ! So much for honesty and truth in
this good world 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.
A VERY GREAT FAVOL"IW ^Tl
CHAPTER XXXIir.
A VERT GREAT FAVOUR.
Amongst the embarrassments of sfcoiy-telHng' there is one
which, to be appreciated, must have been experienced ; it is,
however, suflSciently intelligible to claim sympathy even by in-
dicating — we mean the difficulty a narrator has in the choice of
those incidents by which 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 made, some
seem too trivial, some too irrelevant for mention, and yet, when
we come to reflect upon real life itself, how many times do we
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 selec-
tion ! 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 travel, and, at the same time, we feel the want of
those very events to reconcile what may well seem contradic-
tions in our history.
It not unfrequently happens that an apology is just as tire-
some as the offence it should excuse, and so, without further
explanation, we proceed. Lady Dorothea 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 unques-
tionable claim to station, and her own high connexions, rendered
the task less difficult, while it imparted to Lady Dorothea's
372 THR MAllTINS OF CRO' MAETIK.
own manner and bearing that degree of dignity and calm which
never accompany an insecure elevation.
With such refinement of delicacy, such exquisite tact, was
every step managed, that her ladyship was left to suppose every
attention she received sprung out of her own undeniable right
to them, and to the grace and charm of a manner which really
had had its share of success some five-and-thirty years before.
The gloomy isolation she had 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;
and Martin perceived, with astonishment, that she neither made
injurious comparisons between the present and the past, nor
deemed the age they lived in one of insufferable vulgarity. It
would scarcely have been possible for Lady Doi*othea not to
connect her altered position with the friendship between Kate
Henderson and her former pupil : she knew it, and she felt it.
All her self-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
contrai'y, never had she shown herself more submissive and
dependent. The duties of her ofiBce, multiplied as they were
tenfold by her ladyship's engagements, were all punctually ac-
quitted, and with a degree of tact and cleverness that obtained
from Lady Dorothea the credit of a charming note-writer. Nor
was she indiSerent to the effect Kate produced in society, where
her beauty and fascination had already made a deep impression.
Reserving a peculiar deference and respect for all her inter-
course 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 humility.
Lady Dorothea Martin and her beautiful companion were now
celebrities at Paris, and assuredly no city of the world knows
how to shower more fascinations on those it favours. Life
hecame to them a round of brilliant festivities. They received
invitations from every quarter, and everywhere were met with
A VERT GREAT FAVOUR. 373
that graceful welcome so sure to greet those w^hose airs and
whose dress are the ornaments of a salon. They " received " at
home, too; and her ladyship's Saturdays were about the most
exslusive of all Parisian receptions. Tacitly at 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 captain had 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 dis-
like to Kate Henderson, which a weak man very often expe-
riences 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 pro-
vincial 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 indifference
as though he had been neither a hussar nor a lady-killer. Of
coui'se 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 draw-
ing him on, and entangling him in some stupid declai'ation, 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 suffer a single doubt as
to his own capacity for success, and therefore the only solution
to the mystery of her manner was its being an artful scheme,
which time and a little watching would surely explain. Time
went on, and yet he grew none the wiser — Kate continued the
same impassive creature as at first. She never sought — never
avoided him. She met him without constraint — without plea-
sure too. They never became intimate, while thei'e was no
distance in their intercourse; till at last, wounded in his
274i THE MAETINS OF CRO' MAKTIN.
self-esteem, lie began to feel that discomfort in her presence
which only waits for the slightest provocation to become actual
dislike.
"With that 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 the
blot," but somehow he always detected his mistake ere long ; and
thus did he live on in that tantalising state of uncertainty and
indecision which combines about as much suffering as men of his
stamp are capable of feeling.
If Lady Dorothea never suspected the degree of influence Kate
silently exercised over her, the captain saw it palpably, and
tried to nourish the knowledge into a ground for dislike. But
somehow she would no more suffer herself to be hated than to
be loved, and invariably baffled all his attempts to " get up " an
indignation against her. By immberless devices — too slight, too
evanescent to be called regular coquetry — she understood how
to conciliate him, even in his roughest moods, while she had only
to make the very least possible display of her attractions to fas-
cinate 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 confessed to his
own heart, that, though he'd not like to marry her himself, he'd
be sorely tempted to shoot any man who made her his 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 interrupt 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 numer-
ous."
"Impossible, Miss Henderson knows better than any one
that the success of these things depends on having a host
of men — all ages, all classes, all sorts of people," said he, indo-
lently.
A VERY GREAT FAVOUR. 375
"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 forbearance."
" One more, then, will not damage the mixture."
" Of course, Captain Martin, it is quite sufficient that he is ft
friend of yours — that you wish it "
"But it is no such thing, Miss Henderson," broke in Lady
Dorothea. " We 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 faltering 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 j
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 meant
conciliation 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 you 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. " Why, where on earth could you have
made acquaintance 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
Otb THE MARIIXS OF CRO MARTIN.
obligfitions— '-heavy obligations — to this same gentleman, per.
haps it might incline you to show him some mark of attention."
"You could have him to dinner at yom* Club — jou. 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 ? ' "
" 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 he did so.
" You've done this at your own peril, Miss Henderson," said
Lady Dorothea, half upbraiding-ly.
" At mine be it, rather," said the captain, sternly.
*'I accept my share of it willingl}'-," said Kate, with a g-lance
which brought a deep flush over the hussar's cheek, and sent
tbroug'li him a strange thrill of pleasure.
" Then I am to suppose we shall be hononi'ed with your own
presence on this occasion — rare favour, that it is," said her
ladj-fihip.
*' Yes, I'll look in. I promised Merl to present him."
"Oh! 3'ou needn't," said she, peevishly; "half the m.eii
merely make their bow when they meet me, and neither expect
me to remember who they are, or to notice them. I may leave
your distinguished 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,
crumpling 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 lias imparted a kind of interest to him, not to say
that there would seem something like a mystery in Captain
Martin's connexion 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 with
this observation of mingled truth and fallacy her ladyship
sailed proudly out of the room, in all the conscious importance
*" her own cleverness.
A leu'er from home. 377
CHAPTER XXXiV„
A LETTER FliOM II Oil P.,
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 him. A very casual glance at his
features would have discovered that the tidings which met his
eye were very rarely of a pleasant chai-acter. For the most
joart tlie letters were importunate appeals for money, subscrip-
tions, loans, small sums, to be repaid when the borrower had
risen above his present difficulties, aids to effect some little
enterprise on whose very face was failm-e. Then there were
the more formal demands for sums actually due, written in the
perfection of coercive courtesy, subjecting the reader to all the
tortures of a moral surgical operation, a suffering actually in-
creased by the very dexterity of the manipulator. Then came,
in rugged hand and gnarled shape, urgent entreaties for abate-
ments 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 Mi*.
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 Kilkieran, 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 oiDportunity to congratulate the owner
378 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
on the happiness of living in a milder climate, ^vhile the local
squabbles of the borough suggested the pleasant contrast with
all the enjoyments of a life abroad.
On the whole, Mr. Scanlan's letter was rather agreeable than
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 rpight
have been worse." If the letter did not reflect very favourably
on either the heart or brain that conceived it, it well suited him
to whom it was addressed. To screen himself from whatever
might irritate him ; to escape an unpleasant thought or unhappy
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. Now newspapers
might croak their dark predictions about the coming winter,
prophesy famine, fever, and pestilence, Scanlan's letter, " written
from the spot," by "one who enjoyed every opportunity for
forming a correct opinion," was there, and he said matters were
pretty much as usual. The west of Ireland had 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 Scanlan 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 even 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 Tie was not as much at ease within as he wished to persuade
himself he was.
Amid the mass of correspondence, pamphlets, and news-
papers, one note, very small and neatly folded, had escaped
Martin's notice till the very 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, without one plea in his favour, before his own heart.
The very consciousness of his culpability had prevented him
A LETTER FROM HOME. 379
■writing to her as he ought: his letters were few, short, and
constrained. Not all the generous frankness of hers could
restore 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 messag'e thi'ough Kate
Henderson — some excuse about his health, fatigue, and so forth,
ever coupled with a promise that he would soon be himself
again, and as active a correspondent as she could desire.
To these apologies Mary always replied in a kindly spirit;
whatever sorrow they might have cost her she kept for herself;
they never awakened one expression of impatience, not a word
of reproach. She understood him thoroughly — his easy in-
dolence of disposition, his dislike to a task, his avoidance of
whatever was possible to defei', more even than all these, his
own unforgiveness of himself for 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
banishment, and jestingly assuring him how much happier he
would be at home !
In whatever mood, however, she wrote, there was a striking
absence of whatever could fret or grieve her uncle 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 had 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 pi'omise of
the happiness he should feel on the day of his return.
These letters were about the pleasantest incidents in Martin's
present life, and the day which brought him 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 ruminate over an answer. It so chanced that now
a much longer interval had occurred since Mary's last letter,
and the appearance of the present note, so unlike the voluminous
380 THE JI.MiriNS OF CRO' MARTIN.
epistle slie usually despatclied, struck him with a certain dismay.
"Poor Moll}^," 8;iid he, as he broke the seal, "she is growing
weary at last; this coiitinv;ed neglect is beginning to tell upon
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 forgotten. Martin's hand trembled, and his chest
heaved heavily as he read the following lines :
*' Cro' Martin, Wednesday Night.
" Dearest Uncle,
"You will not suffer these few lines to remain unanswered,
since they are written in all the pressure of a great emergency.
Oar worst fears for the harvest are more than realised: a total
failure in the potatoes — a great diminution in the oat crop ; 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 that already cut and stacked cannot be
drawn away from the bogs. But, worse than all these, tyjjhus
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 eveiy
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 affection, their charity, their self-denial, and their daring —
but now is the moment to show them that we, who have been
dealt with more favourably by fortune, arc not devoid of the
qualities which adorn their nature.
" I feel all the cruelty of narrating these things to you, too
f\xr awny from the scene of sorrow to aid by j'our counsel and
encourage by your assistance ; but it would be worse than
cruelty to conceal from joa that a terrible crisis is at hand,
which will need all your enei'gy to mitigate.
" Some measures are in your power, and must be adopted at
once. There must be a remission of I'cnt 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
A LETTER FROM HOME. 881
more able to help tliem. 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 estab-
lished. 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 suifering's. You have seen misery here — enough, I say — •
you have witnessed nothing like this, and we are at but the
beginning.
" 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. j\Iy head is
confused; the crash of misfortunes has addled me, and each
succeed so rapidly on each other, that remedies are scarcely
employed than they have to be abandoned. When, however,
I can tell the people that it is their own old friend and master
that sends them help, and bids them to 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 b Jdest 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
ojDinion of these poor people — my over-confidence in their capa-
city 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 your doings in Paris. I'm afraid I should but lose temper if
I heard that they were pleasant ones, and yet, with my whole
soul, I wish you to be happy ; and with this,
" Believe me your a-ffectionate
"Mr. Repton has written me the kindest of letters, full of
good advice and good sense; he has also enclosed me a cheque
for 1007., with an offer of more, if wanted. I was low and
depi'essed 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 I ask such a sacrifice — how entreat him to face
the peril ? "
"Tell Captain Martin I wish to speak to him," said JNturtin,
382 THE MAra'ixs of cro' martin.
as he finished the perusal of this letler. 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
endeavouring to conceal his agitation as he spoke, " wliich I
want to show you, Mattei-s are in a sad plight in the West.
She never exaggerates a gloomy story, and her account is very
afflicting. Read it."
The captain lounged towards the window, and, leaning list-
lessly against the wall, opened the epistle.
"You have not written to her lately, then? " asked he, as he
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 the 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 con-
trol 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 ;
fche dashes off my mother's notes at score, and talks away, too,
all the time she's writing."
"That is not the question before lis," said Martin, sternly,
" When I sent for you to read that letter, it was that you might
advise and counsel me wha't 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 tliis moment." This the captain spoke with an
attempted jocularity, which decreased with every word, till it
subsided into downright seriousness ere he finished.
" So far from being in a position to do an act of munificence,
I am sorely pressed for money," said Martin.
A LETTER FROM H05IE. 33 ii
The captain started ; the half-sinile with which he had begua
to receive this speech died away on his lips as he asked, " la
this really the case ? "
" Most truly so," said Martin, solemnly.
" But how, in the name of everything absurd — how is this .
possible? By what stratagem could j^ou have spent five j
thousand a year at Cro' Martin, and your estate was worth \
almost three times as much ? Giving a very wide margin for =
waste and robbery, I'd say five thousand could not be made
away with there in a twelvemonth."
" Your question only shows me how carelessly you must
have read my letters to you, in India," said Martin, "otherwise
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 planta-
tion — 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 swam2:)s you used to shoot snipe over
bearing corn crops, see the thriving village, where once the
boatmen were starving, for they 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 captain; "that's the real test of all these matters, for if
your 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 quintess-
ence 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 wasted, and fine fortunes squandered in what are called
improvements. If the possession of a good property entails
the necessity to spend it all in this fashion, one is a 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 that this is not the question
before us ? " said Martin, with increased sternness.
i36i' THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"That is exactly the very question," rejoined the captain.
" Mary here coolly asks you, in the spirit of this same improve-
ment-scheme, to relinquish a year's income, and make a present
of I know not how much more, simply because things are goino-
badly with them, just as if everybody hasn't their turn of ill-
fortune. Egad, I can answer for it, mine hasn't been floux'ishing
latterly, and yet I have heai'd of no benevolent plan on foot to
aid or release me ! "
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 you, then, no counsel to give — no suggestion
to make me ? "
"Well," said he suddenly, "if Mary has not greatly over-
charged all this story "
" That she has not," cried Martin, interrupting him. "There's
not a line, not a word of her letter, 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 I think ought to cut
and run as fast as they can. I know that's what ive do in India :
when the cholera comes, we break up the encampment, and
move off somewhere 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
evident 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 under-
stood it," said he at last, in a voice full of melancholy meanino-.
"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 own room, Harry," said
Martin, 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, fold-
ing up the note, he turned and left the room.
There are a great number of excellent people in this world
who believe that "Thought," like "Ecarte," is a game which
▲ LETTER FKOM HOME. 385
requires two people to play. The captain was one of these ;
nor was it within his comprehension to imagine 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 him-
self, when a soft, low voice said, " What is puzzling" Captain
Martin? — can I be of any service to him?" He turned and
saw Kate Henderson.
" Only think how fortunate ! " exclaimed he. "Just come in
here to this drawing-room, and give me your advice."
" Willingly," said she, with a curtsey, the more marked be-
cause his manner 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 interpretation is to come, by all the recon-
sideration 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, " you are
one of ourselves, I trust — at least, I 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. For some minutes she continued to read with the
same impassive expression; but gradually her cheek became
paler, and a haughty, almost scornful, expression settled on her
lips. " So patient are they in their trials," said she, reading
aloud the expression of Mary's note. " Is it not possible. Cap-
tain 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
waiting 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 the duty dated from 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 pau-
perism ! Why not have taught these same famished creatures
self-dependence, elevated them to the rank of civilized beings
by the enjoyment of rights that give men self-esteem as wdl
as liberty? What do you mean to do, sir? — or is that your
diflSculty ? " cried she, hastily changing her tone to one of less
energy. 26
386 THE MARTIKS OF CEO MARTIN.
*' 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 you are foi" " She stopped, as if to let him finish
her question for her.
"Egad, I don't know well what I'm for, except it be self-
preservation. I mean," said he, correcting himself, as a sudden
glance of almost insolent scorn shot from Kate's eyes towards
him — " I mean, that I'm certain more than half of this account
is sheer exaggeration. Mary is frightened — as well she may
be — finding herself all alone, and hearing nothing but the high-
coloured stories the people bring her, and listening to calami-
ties 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 embarrass-
ment.
" 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 oflF 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,
resolutely.
" Then go I will," cried the captain ; " and I'll start within
two hours."
MR. MERL's DEr^VRTURE. 38?
CHAPTER XXXV.
MR. MERL S DEPARTURS,
Worthy 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 prepara-
tion for his journey. There 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 the 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 sicklier,
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 this is
precisely what I'm about to do. Is it by way of trying her
power over me ? By Jove, I've hit it ! " cried he, suddenly, as
he stopped arranging a mass of letters which 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.
388 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
If he 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. What 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 I go? I could send my valet, Fletcher —
just the kind of fellow for such a mission — never knew the secret
he couldn't worm out ; there never was a bit of barrack scandal
he didn't get to the bottom of. He'd be back here within a
fortnio-ht, with the whole state of the case, and I'll be bound
there will be no humbugging /w'w."
This bright idea was not, however, without its share of
detracting reflections, for what became of all that personal
heroism on which he reposed such hope, if the danger were to
be encountered by deputy? This 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
betokened 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
undecided."
"Up the Rhine?"
" No ; not in that direction."
" South — towai'ds Italy, 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
MR, merl's departure. 389
Bixty-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.
*' You're a heavy loser, then ? " asked Martin, eagerly.
" I shall be, to the tune 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 of them at least — and I want a hint from you
as to which I ought to dispose of and which hold over. You
told me one day, I remember, that there was a portion of the
property likely to rise greatly in value "
" You told me, sir," said Captain Martin, breaking suddenly
in, " when I gave you these same bonds, that they should
remain 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 Martin, " 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 your-
self 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 convert-
ing them into cash? Are you about to sell part of our
estate ? "
" Nothing of the kind, captain," said Merl, smiling at the
innocence of the question. "I am 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 trans-
action can reach the ears of your family. This assurance will,
I trust, satisfy yoM, and entitle me to the information I ask
for."
390 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" 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 the kind of dealings you speak of. It does not
concern me 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 all you ever advanced to me. I hear of
nothing from my father but the immense resources of this, and
the 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 man 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 sure 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. Willoughby says the same. It might have cost
you something smart, but you'd have made it pay in the end —
eh, Mei-1 ? "
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,"
resumed the captain, " but as you're going away Besides,
MR. MEEl's DEPARTUnE, 391
after this defeat at the Club, you couldn't well corne 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 oppc*ite 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 present 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 au impertinence.
Martin grew crimson with suppressed anger, but never spoke
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 skiflp? "
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.
"Remember, 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 compli-
mentary, "I'm half disposed to give you a few lines to my
cousin ; and if you'll not take the thing as a ' mauvais plaisant-
erie' 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 unconscious-
Bess.
"Here goes then," said Martin, sitting down to a table, and
preparing his writing materials, while in a hurried hand he
began :
" * Dear Cousin Mary, — This will introduce to you Mr. Her-
302 THE MARTINS OF CEO MARTIN.
man Merl, who visits your remote regions on a tour of *
What shall I say?"
" Pleasure — amusement," interposed Merl.
"No, when I am telling a fib, I like a big one — I'll say,
Philanthropy, Merl; and there's nothing so well adapted to
cover those secret investigations you are bent upon — a tour of
Philanthropy.
" ' You will, I am sure, lend him all possible assistance in his
benevolent object — the same being to dispose of the family
acres — and at the sametime direct his attention to whatever
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 — nothing better."
"In return, I shall ask one favour at your hands," said
Martin, as he folded and addressed the 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 own
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 the
rot, or how many people have caught the fever, will improve
it — you know the kind of thing I mean — and — I don't suppose
you care about 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 whist — though
I think yoii could teach him a thing or two." Merl smiled and
tried to look flattered, while the other went on : " And there's
another, called Henderson, the steward, a very shrewd person — ■
but you 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
completely 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.
"You couldn't give me a few lines to this Mr. Scanlan?"
asked Merl, with an air of easy indifference.
"Nothing easier," cried the captain, reseating himself; then
MK, merl's departure. 393
suddenly rising-, with the expression of one to whom a sudden
thought had just crossed the miud, "Wait 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 just
chanced upon the very fellow we want; an acquaintance I
picked up at the 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 he sees. Whatever he tells us may be
relied upon, for, depend upon't, no lady can humbug him. I've
just given him a note for Mary, and I'll write a few lines also
by way of introducing him to Scanlau.''
Martin could barely follow the captain, as with rapid utter-
ance he poured forth this plan. " Do I know him ? What'a
his name ? " asked he at last.
" You 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 all."
And with this consolatory assurance the 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 some-
body 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 affection-
ate; 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 us©
alone, and there he sat, counting them over and gazing at them,
394 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
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 !
Nor 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 compromise 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.
" This fellow will treat you well, Merl," said the captain, as
he folded the letter, " will 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 mount you admirably, and show you the
way besides." And with this speech Martin 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."
THB cum. 895
CHAPTER XXXVI.
"HIE CLUB.
So little impression had Merl's gloomy foreboding's maclo
upon Captain Martin, that be actually forgot everything that
this shrewd gentleman predicted, and only partially recalled
them when the conversation the next morning at the Club
turned on the disturbed state of the capital. People in
"Society" find it excessively diflBcult to believe in anything
like an organised opposition to the authorities of a Government.
They are so accustomed to hear of street assemblages 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 triiles
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 revo-
lutionary 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 comment,
aries of the public papers ; thoughtful 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 withdrawn 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
S96 THK MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
dash past, and the significant glance that followed them indi-
cated how full of meaning these signs appeared.
The day passed in this state of anxious uncertainty, aiid
although the journals discussed the condition of the capital as
full of danger and menace, an ostentatious announcement in the
Moniteur proclaimed Paris to be tranquil. In society — at least
m the world of fashion and high life — there were very few who
would have disputed the official despatch. "Who and what
were they who could dispute the King's Government? Who
and where were there either leaders or followers? In what
way should they attempt it ? The troops in and around Paris
numbered something over forty thousand, commanded by an old
Marshal of the Empire, now the trustiest adherant of loyalty.
The days of Mirabeaus, and Robespierres, and Dantons had
passed away, nor were these times in which men would like to
recal 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 is but five-and-twenty years ago, and how much more have
we learned of the manufacture of I'evolutions in the interval !
Barricades and street warfare have become a science, and the
amount of resistance a half-armed populace can offer to a re-
gular 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.
What wonder, then, if people in society smiled scornfully at
the purposeless masses that occasionally moved past beneath
their windows, shouting with discordant voices some fragments
of the Marseillaise, or, as they approached the residence of any
in authority, venturing on the more daring cry of " Down with
the Ordinances ! " The same tone of haughty contempt per-
vaded " the Club." Young men of fashion, little given to the
cares of political life, aud really indifferent to the action of laws
which never invaded the privileges of the play-table, or car-
IHE CLUB. 397
tailed one prerogative of the " Coulisses," felt an angry im-
patience at all tlie turbulence and riot of the public streets.
In a magnificently 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 his-
torical interest, they were, so far as dress, air, and appearance
went, no ignoble representatives of the class they belonged to.
The proud and haughty Spaniard, the fierce-eyed, daring-
looking Pole ; the pale, intellectual-faced Italian ; the courteous
Russian, and the fair-haired, stalwart Saxon, were all there ;
and, however dissimilar in type, banded together by the magic
influence of the "set" they moved in, to an almost perfect
uniformity of sentiment and opinion.
"I vote that any man be fined ten Louis that alludes, how-
ever remotely, to this confoimded 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
Russian decoration at his button-hole.
"Carried nem. 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 interrupted the still-
ness.
" 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 seven-
teenth night of losing — losing heavily, too. I'm sick of it ! "
" Here's a chance for you, Martin," said a Russian prince,
who had just assumed " the bank." " You shall have you-r
choice of colour, and your own stake."
" Thanks— but I'll not be tempted."
" I say red, and a thousand francs," cried a Neapolitan,
"There's heavier play outside, I suspect," said Martin, as a
wild hoarse shout from the streets re-echoed through the room.
398 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTm.
" A fine — a fine — Martin is fined ! " cried several around the
table.
"You haven't left me wherewithal to pay it, gentlemen,"
said he, laughing. " I was just about to retire, a bankrupt,
into private life."
" That's platoon fire," exclainaed the Pole, as the loud de-
tonation 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 Martin ; " 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, was now a winner, every wager succeeding,
and every bet he made a gain.
"There's nothing like a dogged persistence," said the Rus-
sian. " Fortune never turns her back on him who shows con-
stancy. See Martin, now ; by that very resolution he has con-
quered, 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 Nevers. " 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 Vendome," 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 Villemart, 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 du Saulx, and the Austrian Minister.
Nothing could be more perfect than her manner — calm, without
any effrontery ; assured, and yet no sacrifice of delicacy. It
was easy to see, too, that the theme was not one into which she
stumbled by an accident; she knew every event of the Great
r^.O
^y>.
THE CLUB. 3DD
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 Russian.
" It was when Villemart, 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 r' When do you mean ? ' asked he.
"'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 anything so beautiful or so terrible."
A loud uproar in the street without, in which the sound of
troop-horses passaging to and fro could be distinguished, now
interrupted the colloquy. As the noise increased, a low, deep
roai', like the sound of distant thunder, could be heard, and the
Pole cried out :
" Messieurs les Sans-culottes, I strongly advise you to turn
homewai'ds, for, if I be not much mistaken, here comes the
artillery."
" The difair may turn out a serious one, after all," broke in
the Italian.
" A serious one ! " echoed the Pole, scornfully. " How can
it? Forty battalions of infantry, ten thousand sabres, and
eight batteries; are they not enough, think you, to rout this
contemptible herd of street rioters ? "
" 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, bat speedy action,"
said the Pole ; " grape and cavalry charges to clear the streets,
and rifle practice at anything that shows itself at the win-
dows."
"It is so easy, so very easy, to crush a mob," said the Rus-
sian, " if you only direct your attention to the leader — think of
nothing but him. 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 sabi'ed or shot down at
pleasure."
" Soldiers have no fancy for this kind of warfare," said Do
Nevers, haughtily; "victory is never glorious, defeat always
humiliation."
400 THR MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
*' But who talks of defeat ? " exclaimed the Pole, passion-
ately. " The officer who could fail against such an enemy
should be shot by a court-martial. We have, I believe, every
man of us here, served, and I ask you, vphat disproportion of
force could suggest a doubt of success? "
As he spoke, the door of the room was suddenly opened, and
a young 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
roughly handled ? "
"So much for popular politeness!" exclaimed the Russian,
as he took up the tattered remains of a dress-coat, and exhi-
bited 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 then suddenly came a rush of the people from be-
hind, which terrified my horse, and set him off at speed ; the
uproar increasing, the affrighted animal 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 the 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
we an affair of days since."
" Tou were, doubtless, within some line of outposts when 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
■^lassingbred, 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 Massingbred 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 com-
pany as inflicted all this upon me," rejoined he, with an easy
smile.
, THE CLUB. 401
" Here's the man to captivate your ' Belle Irlandaise,' Mar-
tin," cried one. " Already is he a hero and a martyr to Royal
cruelty."
" Ah ! you came to 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
Republicanism than has been heard in a salon since the days of
old Egalite."
" All lights must be extinguished, gentlemen," said the waiter,
entering hastily. "The street is occupied by troops, and you
must pass out by the Rue de Grenelle."
"Are the mobs not dispersing, then? " asked the Russian.
"No, your highness. They have beaten back the troops
from the Quai Voltaire, and are already advancing on the
Louvre."
"What adsurdity!" exclaimed the Pole. "If the troops
permit this, there is treason amongst them."
" I can answer for it there is terror, at least," said Massing-
bred. " All the high dai'ing and spirit is with what you would
call the Sans-culottes."
" That a man should talk this way because he has lost a cab-
horse I " cried the Pole, insolently.
"There are men who can bear the loss of a countr}' with more
equanimity — I know that," whispered Massingbred in his ear,
with all the calm sternness of an insult.
"You mean this for me?'' said the Pole, in a low voice.
" Of coui'se I do," was the answer,
"Where? — when? — how? muttered the Pole, in suppressed
passion.
" I leave all at your disposal," said Massingbred, smiling at
the other's effort to control his rage.
"At Versailles — to-morrow morning — pistols."
Massingbred 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 prisoHcrs.
"Come along, Martin," said Massingbred, taking his arm.
"I shall want you to do me a favour. Let us make our escape
by the Rue de Grenelle, 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.
27
402 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" By George ! I'm sorry for it. He can hit a franc-piece at
thirty paces."
"So can I, Martin; and, what's more, Auatole 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 Massingbred. "He's a fellow who
cannot conceal his emotions, and will show at once what he
means to do."
"Well, 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 Massingbred — they were but
Club acquaintances of a few weeks back — he believed that he
was one of those smart, versatile men, who, with abundance of
social ability, acquire reputation for higher capacity than they
possess ; but, above all, he never gave him credit for anything
like a settled pui-pose 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 thoroughfares 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 satis-
fied with their account. The crowds had all dispersed, and to
the late din and tumult there 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 individual courage, are always poltroons in the mass.
These fellows understand fighting as an art, know how to com-
bine 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 fiir more
difficult than it seems. In m;/ good borough of Oughterard —
or yours, rather, Martin, for I have only a loan of it — a few
soldiers — the army, as they would call them — would sweep
the whole population before them. Our countrymen can get
THE CLUB. 403
up a row, these fellows can accomplish a revolt— there's the
difference."
" And have they any real, substantial grievance that demands
such an expiation ? "
" Who knows ? " said he, laughingly. " There never was a
government too bad to live under — there never was one exempt
from great vices. Half the political disturbances the world has
witnessed have arisen from causes remote from State Govern-
ment — a deficient harvest, s 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
Veudome, 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 even-
tuality. A chance acquaintance with one of the staff enabled
Massingbred and Martin to pass through their lines and arrive
at their hotel.
" Remember," 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 Government has
enemies in this aristocratic quarter?" said Massingbred, smil-
ing.
"We have them everywhere," was the brief answer, as he
bowed and turned away.
" I scarcely see how I'm to keep my appointment at Versailles
to-morrow morning," said Massingbred, as he followed Martin
up the spacious stairs. "Happily, Czernavitz knows me, and
will not misinterpret 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 father 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 repaid the hospitality as became me. You were away at
the time."
404 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIK.
" Tou allude to tliat stupid election affair," said Martin. " I
can only say, that I never did, never could, understand it. My
only feeling 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 my guest — these are my quarters.
You shall see nobody but myself till you leave this. Remember
what the captain told us ; we are prisoners here." And without
waiting 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 Czernavitz 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 we were a
pair of hot headed fools, thinking more of a miserable inter-
change 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 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.
AK EVENING OF ONE OP THE "THREE DAYS. 4,01
CHAPTER XXXVII.
AN EVENING OF ONE OF THE " THREE DAYS.**
On the evening which witnessed these events, Lady Doro-
thea'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 high 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 obstructions,
and pass-words, and explanations which met them at every
turn. These were all narrated in the easy, jocular tone of pass-
ing 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,
unimportant parts of the capital, the troops were in possession
of all the thoroughfares. Of coui'se, the great topic of con-
versation 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 uttered, the disparaging
opinions expressed of the middle and humbler classes, the hope-
lessness of ever seeing them sufficiently impressed with their
own inferiority, the adulation bestowed on the monarch and all
around him, 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
40G THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAETIN.
people a salutary lesson ; and it was i-eally pleasant to see tlie
warm interest taken by these high and distinguished persons in
the fortunes of their less happy countrymen.
To Lady Dorothea's ears no theme could be more gi-ateful,
and she moved from group to group, delighted to mingle her
congratulations with those around, and exchange her hopes,
and aspirations, and wishes with theirs. Kate Henderson, upon
whom habitually devolved the chief part in these " receptions,"
was excited and flurried in manner; a more than ordinary
efibrt to please being dashed, as it were, by some secret anxiety,
and the expectation of some coming event. Had there beea
any one to watch her movements, he might have seen the eager-
ness 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 couiidence 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 inten-
tions of the King. Once, and only once, did she forget the
prudent resolve she wished to impose upon herself; but temper,
and caution, and reserve gave way, as she heard a very distin-
guished person amusing a circle around him by an unfair and
and unfaithful portraiture of the great leadei's 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 everything, and in a burst of indignant eloquence,
overwhelmed and refuted the speaker. This was the moment,
too, in which she replied to Villemart 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 Longueville. " I
thought we were in the Place de Vendome, and I find myself in
the Faubourg 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'Bnclos ? " muttered Villemart.
" What is this I hear, dearest Kate ? " cried the Duchesse de
Mirecourt, as she drew the young gii'l's arm within her own.
" They tell me you have terrified every one — that Madame de
AN EVENKG OF ONE OF THE "THREE DAYS." 407
Soissons lias g-one home ill, and the old Chevalier de Gardonnes
has sent for his confessor."
*' I have been very rash — very foolish," said Kate, as a deadly
pallor came over her ; " bat I could bear it no longer. Besides,
what does it matter? They'll hear worse, and bear it too, be-
fore three days are over."
"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. Ton 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 com-
passion was turned towai'ds 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, suffered 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, fol-
lowed by the rattle of musketi-y.
" Let us go — let us away ! " 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 wit-
nessed 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 companion-
ship."
" Farewell, madame, and pray be warned of your danger,**
whispered another.
408 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" Your ladyship may be called upon to acquit debts contracted
by anothei", 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
sentiments 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 mjsterious announcements, and almost imagin-
ing herself in all the bewilderment of a dream.
Twice she made an effort to ask some explanation, bat 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 con-
fusing 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 the 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 mannei'. " I have
routed this gorgeous assembly — shocked your most distinguished
guests — and horrified all whose sentiments breathe loyalty! I
am sincerely sorry for my offence, and it is a grave one."
" You — you 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."
"Na}'', nay," said the duchesse, in a tone of apology, " the
matter is not so serious as all this. Every one now is terrified.
This disturbance — 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
AN EVENING OF ONE OF THE "THREE DAYS." <li09
mere trifling event, sure to be forgotten in the midst of sucli
scenes as we are passing through."
This attempt at explanation, poured forth with rapid uttei'-
ance, did not produce on Lady Dorothea the conviction it waa
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 which 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 France ! " 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
exposing me to a partnership in the shame that attaches to
yourself, that you are 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 -iiie to remind you of it," said her ladyship,
sternly. " You 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 on them.
"Show me that paper!" cried Lady Dorothea, impatiently.
But, without obeying the command, Kate said :
"Your ladyship will not be able to leave Paris for at least
410 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
forty liours. By that time the Monarchy will have run its
course in France. You will probably desire, however, to escape
from the scenes of turbulence sure to ensue. This will secure
you a free passage, whichever road you take."
" What raving is all this ? " said Lady Dorothea, snatching
the paper from her hand, and then reading aloud in French :
" ' The authorities are required to aid and tender all assistance
in their power to Lady Dorothea Martin and all who accompany
her, neither giving nor suffering any opposition to be given to
her or them in the prosecution of their journey.
(Signed) " ' Jules Lagrange,
" * Minister of Police, ad interim.*
"And this in your own hand, too ! " exclaimed Lady Dorothea,
contemptuously.
"Yes, madam; but it will entitle it to the seal of the Prefec-
ture, 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 such a name —
one in the confidence 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 two days are over, the pageant of
a King will have passed off 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. Your ladyship may or may not choose to
avail yourself of it."
" I spurn the imposition," said Lady Dorothea, tearing it in
fragments. " So poor a cheat could not deceive me. As for
yourself "
"Oh, do not bestow a thought upon vie, my lady. I can
suffice 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
yourself. Truly, mademoiselle. Republicanism 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 shall not cease till I have restored you to
the humble roof from which I took you," said Lady Dorothea,
passionately. "Your father is our creature; he has no other
IN e\t:nixg of oxe of the "three days.'' 411
subsistence than what we cnndescend to bestow on him. He
shall know, when you re-enter his doors, why, and for what
cause, you are there. Till 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 with a
certain show of respect, it is bearable. Destroy tliut, 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 yovj
are forgetful of what it is your duty to remember, J am not.
Here you shall remain; without," added she, in an accent of
supreme contempt, " 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 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 sti-etched 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 frequent arrival and departure
of orderlies at full speed.
After a brief interval of preparation the infantry formed in
column, and, followed by 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 after 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 regular 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
412 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
cross-belt of the soldier. They proceeded at once to barricade
the square at its opening into the Rue de la Paix — a work
which they accomplished with astonishing 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 effected, 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
discipline. Not 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 the uniform of a soldier, or the epaulette of
an officer, showing 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 person in the
apartment, and whose voice now suddenly attracted her. It
was Martin himself, hastily aroused from his bed by his servant,
who in great alarm told him that the capital was in open revolt,
the King's troops beaten back, and the people victorious every-
where. " There's not a moment to lose," cried he ; " we must
escape while we can. The road to Versailles is yet in possession
of the troops, and we can take that way."
Lady Dorothea, partly overcome by the late scene, partly
stunned by the repeated shocks she experienced, made no reply
whatever, and Martin, judging from 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
balcony. " 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 will 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 5'ou."
While he was yet uttering these broken, disjointed sentences,
he had drawn Kate by the arm within the room, and now stood
AN E\T:NrNG OF ONE OF MIE "THREE DAYS." 413
beside Lady Dorothea's chair. Her ladyship raised her head
and fixed her eyes upon Kate, who sustained the gaze calmly
and steadily, nor by the slightest movement disjDlayed one
touch of any emotion. The glance, at first haughty and defiant,
seemed at lengtli 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 eSbrt 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 bend-
ing down 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 ofiend Miss Henderson, sir," interposed Lady
Dorothea ; " she has equal confidence in their valour and tlieir
virtue.*'
" What does this mean ? — when did she fall into this state ? "
asked he, eagerly. And although only spoken in a whisper,
Lady Dorothea overheard them, and said :
" Let her tell you. She can give you the very fullest explana-
tion."
" 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,
solemnly.
A hoarse wild shout — 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 re-
pulsed 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 ! " 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.
414 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" So I should have been," replied he, in the same tone, " but
I wasn't g'oing to lose this. I knew it was to come oflF 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 remained ? 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 j^ourself unnecessarily."
" But it is exactly to get away — to escape while there is time
— that I came for," said the captain. " They 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 Fenton to the
post for horses, 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 orderlies; the postmaster, too, has fled, and everything
is in confusion. But if we had horses the streets are impass-
able ; from here to the Boulevard there are no less than five
barricades."
" Then what is to be done ? '* cried Martin.
" They say, sir," replied Fentoa, " that by gaining the outer
Boulevard 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 you think ? " said he, addressing Kate, who
stood intently watching the movements in the "Place" be-
neath.
" Yes ; 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 num.
bers 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
AN EVEXIXG OF ONE OF THE '' THREE DAYS." 415
struggle is for Liberty, and should ouly be maintained by tlie
Free ! "
"How are we to pass these barricades?" cried ]\lartiu,
anxiously.
" I will be your guide, sir, if that be all," said Kate. " ^ou
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, con-
fidential tone. " Massiugbred — Jack Massingbred — is now here,
in my room, I know all about my mother's dislike to him, and
lie 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 meeting 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 diflRculty I could per-
suade him to enter. None of us anticipated 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?"
"I'll speak to her — but it were better you did it, Hai'ry.
These are not times to weigh scruples and balance difficulties.
I don't myself think that Massingljred 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, aiid, leaning over her
chair, whispered to her for some minutes. At first, a slight
gesture of impatience 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."
" Remember," said the other, " that it was by no choice of
Ills he came here. His foot was on the threshold before he
suspected it."
" Miss Henderson sent me, my lady," said a servant, entering
416 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
hastily, " to say that there is not a minute to be lost. They
are expecting an attack on the barricade in the Rue 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.
" Tliat must be Massingbred, for I told them to call 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 cere-
monious 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
respectfully to her salutation, " Every moment brings fresh
tidings of defection among the troops, while the Marshal is
paralysed by contradictory orders."
" Is it always to be the fate of Monai'chy to be badly served
in times of peril ? " said she, bitterly.
" It is very difScult to awaken loyalty against one's convic-
tions of right, madam. I mean," added he, as a gesture of
impatience broke 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
capitalists of Europe — ready to resign all his fortune in the
struggle against a rule which he foresees intended to bring
AX EVENING OF ONE OP THE "THREE DATS." .417
tack the days of a worn-out, effete Monarchy, rather than a
system which shall invigorate 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 i-em ember where and how.
" You could scarcely have paid your respects at Neuilly,
madam, without seeing him. He was, besides, the favoured
g-uests at Madame de Mirecourt's."
" You would not imply, sir, that the duchess condescendGd 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 convex'siug with her
companion, motioned to the others to come up,
" It is from that quarter we receive cur orders," said Lady
Dorothea, 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 seeming as though endeavouring to extecu-
ate 01" explain away something in his conduct ; next, came Lady
Dorothea, supported between her husband and h&i son, and
while walking slowly, and with faltering steps, still carrying
her head proudly erect, and gazing OD the stern faces around
her with looks of haughty contempt. After them were a
numerous retinue of servants, with such effects as they had got
hurriedly together — a teiTor-stmck set, scarcely able to crawl
along- from fear.
As they drew nigh the barricade, some men proceeded to
remove a heavy wagon 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 tlm
operation demanded promptitude.
"We are scarcely safe in this," cried the officer. "See!
418 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
tliey are mailing' signs to us from the windows — tlie ti'oopg
are coming. If jou pass out now, you will be between two
fires."
" Tiiere i.-? yefc time," said Kate, eagerly. " Oar 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 caue, sir," said the officer to
Massingbred.
"My Qag 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.
"Yes; 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 who
seemed the chief of the party. " All my wishes are with you.
Were I a man, my hand should guarantee my heart."
" Come — come back ! " cried the officer, " You are too late.
There conies the head of the column."
"No, never — never!" exclaimed Lady Dorothea, haughtily;
"protection from such as these is worse than any death."
"Give me the flag, then," cried Kate, snatching it from
Massingbred's hand, and hastening on before the others. And
now the heavy wagon had fallen back to its place, and a serried
file of muskets peeped over it.
" Where's Massingbred ? " asked the captain, eagerly.
" Yonder — where he ought to be ! " exclaimed Kate, proudly,
pointing to the barricade, upon which, now. Jack was standing
conspicuously, a musket on his arm.
The troops in front were not the head of a column, but the
advanced guard of a force evidently at some distance off, and
AN EVENKG OF ONE OF THE "THREE DATS." 419
instead of advancing on the barricade, they drew up and halted
in triple file across the street. Their attitude of silent, stera
defiance — for it was such — evoked a wild burst of popular fury,
and epithets of abuse and insult were heaped upon them from
windows and parapets.
" They are the famous Twenty-Second of the Line," said the
captain, " who forced the Pont-Neuf yesterday, and drove the
mob before them."
" It is fortunate for us that we fall into such hands," said
Lad}'- Dorothea, waving her handkerchief as she advanced. But
Kate had already approached the line, and now halted at a
command from the officer. While she endeavoured to explain
how and why they 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 con-
stantly towards the street from which they had advanced,
and he seemed anxiously expecting the arrival of the regi-
ment.
"I cannot give you a convoy, mademoiselle," he said; "I
scarcely know if L 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 insurgents "
"We 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 fellows in a hopeless struggle."
"Listen not to her, young man, but give heed to your honour
and 3'our loyalty," cried Lady Dorothea. " Is it against such an
enemy as this French soldiers fear to advance? "
" Forward ! " cried the officer, waving his sword above his
head. "Let us carry the barricade!" And a wild yell of
defiance from the windows repeated the speech in derision.
" You 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."
" Here comes the regiment ! " called out the sergeant. " They
liave foi'ced the barricade." And the quick tramp of a column,
as they came at a run, now shook the street.
" Remember your cause and your King', sir," cried Lady
Dorothea to the officer.
" Bethink you of your country — of France — and of Liberty 1 "
said Kate, as slie grasped his arm.
420 THE MAKTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
"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
Dorothea 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, throw-
ing 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 moi'e," said Kate, as she
showed the bullet, which bad perforated her dress beneath the
arm.
" A good soldier, by Jove ! " said the captain, gazing with
real admiration on the beautiful features before him, the faint
smile she 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 ! " ci'ied the captain. " Gallantly done !
— gloriously done! No, by Jove! they are falling back — the
fire is murderous. See how they bayonet them. The troops
must win. They move together — they are like a wall ! In
vain, in vain — they cannot do it ! They are beaten — they ar»
lost!"
" Who are lost ? " said Kate, in a half fainting voice.
"The soldiers. And there's Massingbred on the top of the
barricade, in the midst of it all. I see his hat. They are
driven buck — 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 one aid you ; it is my turn now," said Lady Dorothea,
assisting Kate to rise. " Good Heavens ! her arm is broken — it
is smashed in two." And she caught the fainting girl in her
arms.
AN EVENKG OF ONE OF THE "THREE DAYS." 421
Gathering 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 stmck down who didn't bear it as calmly,"
muttered he, as he bent over her. "Am I giving you any
pain ? "
" Not 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 add«d
lustre.
" 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 Zter,
and think of nothing till she be cared for."
422 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
S303IE CONFESSIONS OF JACK MASSINGBBBD.
TJpoiT two several occasions have we committed to Jack
Massingbred 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 com'se 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 point? of view. There is also another advantage to
be gained. Jack is before our readers, we are not; Jack is an
acquaintance, we cannot aspire to that honour ; Jack's opinions,
right or wrong as they may be, are part and parcel of a cha-
racter 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 concealment with the world at large, it is remark-
able for great frankness and sincerity. He throws away his
mask with such evident signs of enjoyment, that we only
wonder if he can ever resume it ; but crafty men like to relax
into candour, as royalty is said to indulge with pleasure in the
chance moments of pretended equality. It is, at all 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 :
SOME CONFESSIONS OF JACK MASSINGBRKD. 423
"Of the Revolution, 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,
foi'ced the Tuileries, and drove Marmont back, you must consult
the newspapers. Personal adventures I could give you to
satiety, haii'-breadth 'scapes and acts of heroism by the dozen ;
but these narratives are never new, and always tiresome. The
serious reflectiveness sounds like humbug, and, if one treats
them lightly, the flippancy is an ofience. Jocular heroism is
ever an insult to the reader.
"You say 'Que diable allait-il faire dans cette galere? ' and
I answer, it was all her doing. Yes, Harry she was there. I
was thinking of nothing less in the world than a great ' blow
for freedom,' as the Globe has it. I had troubled my head
wonderfully little about the whole afi"air. 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, T 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 the
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 royalty, 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 bullet 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 appropriately you will say, I got up a Radical, a Demo-
crat, 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 in hostility, at least, such was
our understanding; but, by the time that our diflerence should
have been settled, I was carried away on a stretcher to the
424 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Hotel-Dieu, wounded, and lia was flung, a corpse, into the Seine.
I intended to have been a most accurate narrator of events,
journalising for you, hour by hour, with all the stirring excite-
ment of the present tense, but I cannot; the crash and the
hubbub are still 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 composure.
" The Martins are nursing, and comforting, and chicken-
brofMng 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 Lady Dorothea into a porte-
cochere, and when they had 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 inglorious flight. To the Duchesse de Mire-
court she made this communication, which it seems none of the
court-followers had the courage or honesty to do before. The
duchess, in her terror, actually dragged her into the presence
of the king, and made her repeat 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
afiected the nerves of monarchy, that he gave immediate orders
to depart, and was off within an hour.
" How they found me out a patient in a ward of the Hotel-
Dieu, rescued and carried me away with them, I have heard
full half-a-dozen times, but I'm far from being clear enough to
I'epeat 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 suffering,
with the dark curly head of a great master of torture peeping
sit me, and whom, I am told, is the Baron Dupuytren, the
Surgeon-in-Chief. After these comes a vision of litters and
charrettes—rsove joltings and stoppages to drink water But
SOME COXFESSIOXS OF JACK MASSIKGRBED. 425
I sliall rave if I go on. Better I should tell you of my plea-
sant little bedroom here, opening on a small garden, with a tiny
fountain, trying to sprinkle the wild myrtle 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 with everything,
fi'om flowers to French 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 j'oa 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, difficulty, 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 qualities exactly those that do battle with the diffi-
calties of fortune? Self-denial — ambition — courage — an in-
tense, an intuitive knowledge of the world — and then, a pur-
pose-like devotion to whatever she undertakes, that throws 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 the 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 physician 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.
"Well, HaiTy, 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 no-
tions 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 thoroughbred along Rotten-
row, 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
426 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
them. The miserable 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
misconception by ' her ladyship,' on that — sway and rule a man
so that he may neither eat, drink, uor sleep, without a ' Court
Guide ' in his pocket. I've done with it ! now and for ever — I
tell you frankly — I return no more to this bondage.
" I have written a farewell address to my worthy constituents
of Oughterard. I have told them, that, ' feeling an instinct of
independence within me, I can no longer remain tlieir repre-
sentative. 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 intimacy.' 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 with solicitations for employment. Help me to
stock my knapsack, and I'll find my road myself.' She knows
nothing of these steps on my part — nor shall she, till they have
become irrevocable. She is too proud ever to consent to what
would cost me thus heavily ; but the expense once incurred —
the outlay made — she cannot object to what has become the
law of my future life.
**I send off these two documents to-night; this done, I shall
write to her an offer of marriage. What a fever I'm in ! and
all because I feel the necessity of defending myself to you — 'to
you of all men the most headstrong, reckless, and self-indulgent
— 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 you, 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 Highlands, 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 recognisances 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
SOME CONFESSIONS OP JACK MASSINGBREU 427
•withont 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 iall an
indiscreet match! What does — what can the world 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 lift!
we have planned to ourselves? Have they read our utter
weariness and contempt for forms that they venerate, and social
distinctions that they 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 wliole world, and says, 'This
woman's love is to me 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 my wound, and the pain is agony. To-morrow
— to-night, if I'm able — I shall continue.
"Midnight.
" They have just wished me good night, after having spent
the evening here reading out the newspapers for me, comment-
ing upon them, and exerting themselves to amuse me in a
hundred good-natured ways. You would like this same stately
old Lady Dorothea. She is really 'Grande Dame' in every re-
spect — 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 grace-
fully than Kate's enthusiastic estimate of their high deservings.
It does go terribly against the grain to fancy an alliance between
coarse natui'es 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
all 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 spectaole as this, Harry, and how low is
428 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
one's estimate of the species after such experience! Yon meet
some half-dozen semi-bald, spectacled old gentlemen 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
Affairs, and a third something equally important. You venerate
them accordingly, while you mutter the old Swede's apothegm
about the 'small intelligences' that rule mankind. Wait a
while ! There is a I'ow in 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 Fraternity. No matter what the cause,
there is a row. The troops are called out; some are beaten,
some join the insurgents. The government grows frightened — >
temporises — offers terms — and sends for more soldiers. The
people — I never clearly 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 ministers
nowhere ! No great loss you'll say, if the four or five smooth-
faced imbecilities we have spoken of are not to the fore! But
there is your error, Harry — your great error. These men, used
to conduct and carry on the government, cannot be replaced.
The new capacities do nothing but blunder, and maybe issue
contradictory orders and impede each others actions. To im-
provise a Secretary of State is about as wise a proceeding as to
take at hazard a third-class passenger cud set him to guide the
engine of a train. The only difference 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 unplesant
disputants in politics. They attach their faith to persons, not
parties. Miss Henderson is, besides, a little spoiled by the notice
of those maxim-mongers who write leaders in the Debats, and
articles for the Deux Moncles. They have, or afiect 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 thinking of it.
" You tell me that you once served with Captain Martin, and
SOME CONFESSIONS OF JACK IJi^SSIXGBREP 429
I see you understand him ; not that it requires much study to do
so. You say, he was I'eckoued a good officer ; what a sneer is
that on the art military !
"There are, however, many suitable qualities about him, and
he certainly possesses the true and distinctive element of a
gentleman — he knows how to be idle. Ay, Harry, that is a
privilege that your retired 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 having found a
pleasure in business, they want to make a business 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 admiring 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 such a creature as this in the toils of the 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 —
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 listea
to his avowal. Another feeling, too, sways me, Harry — I don*t
think I could hear a man profess admiration for tlae 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? She certainly gave the captain what the
world would call encouragement all the night; listened atten-
tively 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
ehe was inflicting on Lady Dorothea amused her, perhaps it was
430 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
the irritation sbe witnessed in me, gave the zest to this pastime.
It is seldom that she condescends to be either amused or amus-
ino-; and I own it is a part does not suit 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 depreciation 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 Lave 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-heartedness. These people are singularly
kind and attentive to me, and seem to have totally forgotten
how ungratefully once before I repaid their civilities. AVhat 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 sentiments we
maintain for our private friendships. I detect a hundred sym-
pathies, inconceivable points of contact, between these people
and myself. We pass hours praising the same things, and
abusing the same people; and how could it possibly sever our
relations that I would endow Maynooth when they would pull
^.t dov»'n, or that I liked forty-shilling freeholders better than
•-en-pound householders? You'll say that a certain earnestness
accompanies strong convictions, and that when a man is deeply
impressed with 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 afc
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 thi'one Expediency in
the seat of Principle. I'll add the conclusion to-morrow, and
now, say, good night,
SOME COXIESSIONS OF JACK KASSINGBRED. 431
" Three days have passed over since I vyrote 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 fow ; but, sensations — emotions, enough for a
lifetime. Nor dare I recal them ! Faintly 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.'
"' 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 failed ; so too, has my father. Persuasion
and entreaty not succeeding, I suspect — 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
morning from the west of Ireland, for Kate, which I surmise to
be in his hand. She gave it, immediately on reading it, to my
mother, and I could detect in her ladyship's face, while she
perused it, unmistakable signs of satisfaction. When she
handed it back, too, she gave a certain 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
embroidery in silence. I watched her narrowly, while I affected
432 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
to read the paper, and saw that she had te 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
permission, 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 that Kate
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 oif her; and yet what was passing in her mind,
whether joy, grief, disappointment, or pleasure, I defy any man
to declai'e ; nor when, having 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, faint 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 that 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 Governess !
Well, I should have laughed too, some six 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
I'uined man — where's the harm in marrying beneath me?'
" ' Quite right, admirably argued,' laid I, impatiently ; ' go
on.»
" ' I'm glad you agree with me,' said he, with the stupid
satisfaction of imbecility. ' I thougiit I had reduced the ques-
tion to its very narrowest bounds.'
"' 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 Avant to speak to you. I have been long seeking^
this opportunity; and if you will vouchgafe 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,
SOME CONFESSIONS OF WCK MASSINGBRED. 433
and stared at me with those 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, aud insult to your self-
esteem ? Let such now rescue you from resuming this theme."
" ' " But you don't understand me," said I. " What 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
oSer 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 coiild honestly staki) what I haven't
" ' You are so sanguine of winning ? '
" ' So certain, you ought to say.'
'"Of course you use no influence against me — yon take no
step of any kind to aSect 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 you mean ? ' said he, with a piizzled look.
'But whatever it be, I can stand the loss. I've won very close
to double as much from you this evening.'
" ' And as to the disappointment ? '
" Oh, Tjou'H not mention it, I'm certain, neither will she, so
none will be the wiser; and, after all, the real bore in all these
29
434 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 he should have dared to insult the young girl
by such presumption as the offer of Ms hand is really too much.
What diflerence of station — wide as the poles asunder — could
compare with their real inequality. The fop, the idler, the
incompetent, to aspire to her! Even his very narrative pro-
claimed his mean nature, wandering on as it did, from a lounge
on the balcony to an offer of marriage !
" Now, to conclude this wearisome 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 banknote for 1001. on the bed, merely added, 'You
were right; there's your money.' I'd have given double the
sum 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 satisfactian 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 interview
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 disorganisation ; 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 in-
stinct; 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. — Martin 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 his claim so far, as I believe is easy enough
SOME CONFESSIONS OF JACK MASSINGBRED. 435
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 per-
fectly collected and even tranquil now, and they wheeled me in
to sit with him for an hour or so. Lady Dorothea behaves
admirably; the fii'st 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 hasten home. It was no
time to trifle with her, so I simply promised to do so, adding,
" ' You, 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 associated 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 fever-
ish access is upon me. So I send off this ere I grow worse.
" Your faithful friend,
"Jack Massingbred."
4S5 THE MAETINS OF CEO* MARTIN.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
HOW BOGUBS AGREE !
Leaving the Martins in their quiet retreat at Spa, nor dwell-
ing any longer on a life whose daily monotoBy was unbroken
by an incident, we once more turn our glance westward. Were
we assured that our kind readers' sympathies were with us, the
change would be 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 once more back again at the little watering-place of
Kilkieran, to which we introduced oiir readers in an early
chapter of tihis 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, repre-
senting 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 splen-
dour and present degradation; indeed, Toby Shea, the landlord.
HOW ROGUES agree! 437
seemed to feel as one of his brightest prerogatives the right of
insulting the memory of his predecessors, 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 be
sides. 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, extirmina-
ting, 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.
Your honor's a friend of his, I believe," added he, stealthily.
The stranger gave a 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 mode-
rate when they didn't want money, but ready to take your 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
spending thousands for hundreds 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 a leaf out of
438 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
a book. There's Mr. Maurice now — and I'll go and hurry the
dinner, for he'll give U3 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 admira-
tion, the skilful 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.
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 Scanlan, a sentiment fully re-
ciprocated 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
profound bow, as he entered the room ; " but I'm glad you got
in first. 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, Merl gave the speaker a searching
glance, as though to say, "Don't lose your time trying to
humbug me — I'm ' York ' too." Indeed, there was a species of
freemasonry in the looks that now passed between 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 hope you agree with me," 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 morn-
ing, 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."
HOW EOGUES agree! 439
"It's not the season, to be sure," said Scanlan, apologeti-
cally.
" Oh ! and there is a season here? "
*' Isn't there, by George ! " said Maurice, smacking his lips.
"I've seen t^YO heifers killed here of a morning, and not so
much as a beefsteak to be got before twelve o'clock. 'Tis the
height of fashion comes down here in July — the Rams of Kil-
timmon, and the Bodkins of Crossmaglin ; and there was talk
last year of a lord — I forget his name, but he 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 back-
gammon."
Merl threw up his eyebrows with pretty much the same
feeling with which the Great Napoleon repeated the words
" Bows and Arrows ! " 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 who 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 upstairs, 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."
" And he has secured our salmon, I find, and left us to dine
on whiting," said Maurice.
" An eighteen-pound fish ! " echoed Toby ; " and it would be
as much as my life is worth 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 ? "
440 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"Yes, sir; all's right and ready for you, and barrin' the fish,
you'll have au elegant dinner."
This 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 tny ' line.' I fancy there's few fellows going have
more experience 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 — friendship, 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.
"What? — 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
Mam-ice.
"No, no," said Mr. Merl, half contemptuously; "they don't
do that."
" Faix ! and we'd do it down here," said Scanlan, " devil may
care who or what he was that tried the game."
" But, I'm speaking of London and Paris ; I'm not alluding
to the Sandwich Islands," said Merl, on whose brain the port
and the strong fire were already producing their efiecfcs.
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.
" You see, sir," said Merl, in the tone of a man laying down
HOW ROGUES agree! 441
a great dictum, " there's worlds and worlds. There's Claude
Willoug-hby'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 the best. Would it be taking too
great a liberty with you if I were to snatch a ten minutes' doze
— ^just ten minutes ? "
"Treat me like an old friend; make yourself quite at home,"
said Maurice. "There's enough here" — and he 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 disposing 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 allow others to do so. It is but
fair, therefore, to tell you, that Mr. Merl was not asleep, nor
Lad 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 him-
self the advantage of the prerogative which attaches to a tired
traveller. There he lay then, with closed eyes — breathing
heavily — to all appearance sound asleep.
Maurice Scanlan, meanwhile, scanned the recumbent figure
before him with the eye of a connoisseui'. We have once befoi'e
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 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 be had ever seen
before. Maurice was acquainted with various ranks and con-
ditions 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 uninstrucfcive. He merely requested that " every attentioa
442 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MABTIlf.
might be paid to his friend Mr. Merl, who wanted to see some-
thing" of the west, and know all about the condition of the
people, and such like. He's up to everything, Master Maurice,"
continued the writer, " and so, just the man for you." 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 hira
down here? Is he a Member 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 us afterwards," added he, as he drained
off his glass. While be 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
recumbent 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 — they always took
that type."
" I wouldn't wonder if yon wei'e 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. Faix ! "
said he to himself, " I've seen the day I'd like to have had a
study of your face."
" Indeed ! " said Scanlan.
"Just so; he'd make a great Judas!** said Crow, enthusi-
astically. "It is the miser all over. You 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 be a dog-stealer."
HOW KOGUES agree! 443
Scanlan gave a low, cautious laugh as he placed a chair
beside 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
with Mr. 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 like, 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 he 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 acuteness he meets with,
and never ceases saying, 'Ain't they a wonderful people? Who
£ver saw their equal for intelligence ? ' "
" Bother ! " said Scanlan, contemptuously.
" But it is not bother ! Maurice ; he's right. They are just
what he says."
" Arrah ! don't be humbugging me, Mr Crow," said the other.
"They're a set of scheming, plotting vagabonds, that are un-
manageable 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 contra-
diction too far.
" 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.
"Ay," continued Maurice, "that fellow there — whoever he is
or whatever he is — is no fool ; he's deep enough : and yet there's
not a bare-legged gossoon on the estate I won't back to take
him in."
" But Barry's another kind of man entirely. You wouldn't
444 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN.
call him 'cute or cunning ; but lie's a sensible, well-judging
man, that has seen a deal of life."
"And what is it, he says, brings him here? " asked Scanlan.'
" He never said a word about that yet," replied Crow, " fur-
ther 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, pre-
tending they want to see this, and observe that," said Scanlan,
sententiously.
" It's mighty hard to mistrust a man that gives you the likes
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 were — and placed
them in his portfolio."
" So that he is 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 sufferings, you are not only obviating
the vulgar display of rich benevolence, but you are inculcating
high sentiments and delicacy of feeling in those that are re-
lieved. 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, con-
temptuously. " When I hear all these elegant sentiments
uttered about Ireland, I know a man is an ass ! This is a poor
country — the people is poor, the gentry is poor, the climate
isn't the 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 ife-— 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 every-
HOW ROGUES AGREE ! 445
body in Connauglit six feet high. Nature 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 condition of the people, to educate and civilize, than
the last six generations 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 tlaat 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 tempei', and draw
your chair back again to the table. I'm not going to say ono
word against her intentions ; but when I see the 'waste of thou-
sands of pounds on useless improvements, 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 yon
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, nursing 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 wine ; 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."
" What ! do you mean to say that they're in difficulty ? "
" Far 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
446 THE MARTINS OP CRO* MARTIN.
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 disturb you ? "
" Not 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 iH-humoui'ed," said
Scanlan, laughing. " Maybe he'll be better tempered when we
have tea."
*' I was just going to ask 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 amiability,
ready, according to the amount of the stake, to win pounds op
lose sixpences
MB. MEEL "at FENCE.** 4AtJ
CHAPTER XL.
ME. MERL "at FENCE.**
All the projects which Mr. Scanlan had struck out for Merl's
occupation on the following day were marred by the unfavour-
able weather. It blew fiercely from the westward, driving upon
shore a tremendous sea, and sending white masses of drift and
foam far inland. 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 asunder 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.
What could well be drearier than that little line of cabins
that formed the village of Kilkieran, as with strongly barri-
caded 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 pursuits 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 weather 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.
448 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Merl felt differently now : the scene before him was wilder
and gloomier than anything he had ever beheld. Beyond and
behind the village, steep mountains rose on every side, of barren
and rugged surface — not a vestige of any culture to bo seen ;
while on the 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 sucli weather ? " asked Merl.
*' ' Needs must,' sir, as the proverb says, I have to be at the
assizes at Oughterard this morning, to prosecute some scoundrels
for cutting brambles in the wood ; and I want to serve notices
oii 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 introduction
ffom 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?"
"To be sure; I'll take it with pleasure. You'll like her
when you see her. She's not a bit like the rest : no pride, no
stand-off — that 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 to-
gether," drawled out Merl.
" Did he though ! " cried Scanlan eagerly. Then as suddenly
checking his anxiety, he added, " But what does he know about
Miss Mary? surely they're as good as strangers to each other.
And for the matter of that, even when he was here, they didn't
take to each other — she was always laughing at the way be
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
cavaliy seat, with your head down and your elbows squared,
will teacb you to cross country — at least, with 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 breasting the storm fearlessly,
MR. MERL "at FENCE." 449
and only croucliin^ to tlie saddle as the gusts swept past.
" What in the name of all that's wonderful brings her here ? "
cried Maurice. " She wasn't down at Kilkieran for four
months."
"She'll stop at this inn here, I suppose?" said Merl, who
was already performing an imaginary toilet for her visit.
"You may take your oath she'll not!" said Scanlan, half
roug'hly ; " she'd not cross the threshold of it ! She's g'oing- 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 cackle.
" If ye call it pleasure," rejoined Scanlan, " what she's after ;
but I suspect there's somebody sick down at the end of the
village. There, I'm right; she's pulling up at Mat Landy's — I
wonder if it's old Mat is bad."
" You know him ? " asked Merl.
"To be sure 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 granddaughter 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-
pi'ised 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." Bat
Mr. Scanlan had ali-eady 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 doctoi', I suppose, and make her servants
take down to these people whatever she wanted to send them,
30
450 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
What especial utility there is in going herself, I can't per-
ceive."
"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 courage in going everywhere, braving danger
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 an angel — that's her
name — an angel."
"Well, I should like to see her," drawled out Merl, as he
smoothed down his scrubby mustacaios.
"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 muffled and shawled him-
self 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 resided at Cro' Martin. It wasn't only that the super-
fluities of their wealth ran over, and filled the cup of the poor
man, but there was a sense of hope cherished, by seeing, tliat,
however hard the times, however adverse the season, there was
always ' his Honor,' as they called Mr. Martin, whom they could
appeal to for aid, or for lenient treatment."
"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 dependence on the will of somebody above them."
"And if that same condition were never to be exaggerated
into downright want, or pushed to an actual slavery, we could
be very happy with it," said Crow, " and not thank you, or ary
other Englishman that came here, to disturb it."
MR. MERL "at FENCE." 4.51
"I assure you I have no ambition to indulge in any such
iaterference," 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 ! "
" Well, the story goes that you wanted to buy an estate, and
came down to have a look at this property here."
" I'd not live on it if Martin were to make me a px'esent of it
to-morrow."
"I don't think he will," said Crow, gravely. "I am afraid
be couldn't, if he wished it."
" What, do you mean on account of the entail ? " asked Merl.
" Not exactly." Ho paused, and after some silence 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 grandfather's and his great-grandfather's! As for tlie
present man, they say that 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 how far
his 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 he, at last, " that it
would be rather difficult 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,
half angrily.
"I see," said Crow, nodding his head scntentiously. And
then fixing his eyes steadily on him, he said, " You are a
mortgagee."
Merl reddened — partly anger, partly shame. Indeed, the
feeling that such a capacity as Mr. Crow's should have pushed
hina hard, was anything but complimentaiy to his 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 house there. I'd rather, if I had my
choice, be able to walk the wood with my sketch-book and
brushes, than be the richest man that ever was heartsore with
the cares of wealth."
■^oQ •rUI] MATITIITO OP one ilAnTHT.
"And if a friend — a sincere, well-wishing friend— were io
"bind himself that you should enjoy this same happiness you
speak of, Mr. 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 bargain."
"Ay, but let us hear the 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,"
" 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 tnith, I'm not over bright or clever — the
best of me is when I've a canvas before me."
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 thought, " had he really been shrewd and cunning, he'd
never have blurted out his suspicion as to my being a mort-
gagee. Besides," said he to himself, " there, and with that
fact, must end all his knowledge of me." — "You can dine with
me to-day, Mr. Crow, can't you ? "
" I'm engaged to the stranger in No, 4 — the man I'm making
the drawings foi\"
" But you could get off! You could ask him to excuse you
by sajnng that something of importance required you else-
where ? "
" And dine in the room underneath ? " asked Crow, with a
comical look of distress at this suggestion.
" Well, let us go somewhere 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 chaise at four o'clock,
and we'll drive over together. And now, I'll just return to the
house, for this wading here is not much to my taste."
Mr. Merl returned gloomily to the house, his mind too deeply
occupied with his own immediate interests to bestow any thought
upon Mary Martin. The weather assuredly offered but little
inducement to linger out of doors, for, as the morning wore on,
the rain and wind increased in v^iolence, while vast massos of
MR. MERL "AT FENCE.' 453
misfc swept over the sea and wei'e carried on shore, leaving only,
at intervals, little jDatches 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 of a sorry inn, without books or newspapers, thrown
upon the resources of your own thoughts, so sure to take their
colour from the dreary scene around them ? It is a trying
ordeal for the best of tempers. Your man of business chafes
and frets against the inactivity — your man of leisure sorrows
over monotony that makes idleness a penalty. He whose
thoroughfare in life is the jjursuit 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 attentions
laments over the dismal desolation of an uncompanionable
existence.
■ If Mr. Merl did not exactly occupy any one of these cate-
gories, 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. Mei-l's eyes
as having an investment. Objects of art, the greatest triumphs
of genius, landscape the richest eye ever rang'ed over, political
events that would 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 ot
life were characterized by great shrewdness. He had re-
marked, for instance, that the changeful fashions of the world
are ever alternating-; and that not only dress, and costume, and
social customs undergo mutations, but that objects of positive
sterling valu« are liable to the same wayward influences. W^e
are all modern to-day, to-morrow we may be "Louis Quatorse,"
the next day " Cinque Centi " in our tastes. Now we ai'e 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 things
that Mr. Merl had perceived never changed, and that was the
estimation men felt for money. Religions might decay, and
454 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
states crumble, thrones totter and kings be exiled, Cuyps might
be depreciated and raarqueterie be held in mean esteem, but
gold was always within a fraction at least of four pounds eleveu
shillings the ounce !
He remarked, too, that men gradually grow tired of almost
everything : the pursuits of the young- are not those of the
middle-aged, still less of advanced life. The books which we
once cried over are now thrown down v/itli languor ; the society
•we imagined perfection we now smile at for its very absurdities.
We see vulgarity where we once beheld vigour ; we 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 speculatoi^s on the Bourse j
valiant admirals, distinguished generals, learned judges, and
even divines, had bought and sold with him, all eager in the
pursuit of gain, and all employing, 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, which
was, the extreme gullibility of mankind. He met every day
men who ruled cabinets and commanded fleets — the rejDuted
great of the earth — and saw them easier victims in his hand
than the commonest capacity in " Leadenhall-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 your city man never incurred. Hence Mr. Merl
came to conceive a very low general opinion 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 indi-
vidual 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 the narrow limit; and having
given to the reader the traits of a character, they must leave
their secret working more or less to his ingenuity. So much,
however, we are at liberty to declare, that Mr. Merl was terri-
bly bored, and made no sci-uple 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
MR. MERL "at fence." 4*55
Crow stood shading his eyes from the lightning- flashes, and
intently gazing on the scene without.
"That's one of the effects Backhuysen was so fond of! " ex-
claimed 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 a faint line of greyish white,
just enough to shoAv that you are on the wide, wide ocean, out
of sig'ht of land, and nothing 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 desolation of
those whose life is a little better than a voyage on such a sea! "
" Better be drowned at once," bi'oke 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 ? "
" No horses ! " exclaimed Merl, " how so ? "
" There's a gi'eat 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 Mei'l, passionately.
" That I ever should have set my foot in it. Hoav are we to
get through the day here ? Have you thought of anything to
be done ? "
"I'll go down and find out how poor Landy is," said Crow,
"for Miss Mary's horse is still at the door, and he must be very
bad indeed, or she wouldn't delay so long."
" And what if it should turn out the cholera, or typhus, or
something 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 excursion 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.
456 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER XLI.
MB. merl's meditations.
Ol:r last chapter left Mr. Herman Merl in bad company — he
was alone. Now, 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 unequally, 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 memoranda, — somewhat in the same spirit will
Conscience grasp a similar moment to go over the past, glance
at bygone events, and make, as it wei'e, 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 differently were
they to be done over again; and he must, indeed, have fallen
upon a happy lot in life who has not some self-reproach on the
score of kindness unrequited — slight injuries either unforgiveu
or unequally avenged — friendships jeopardised, mayhap lost, by
some mere indulgence of temper — and enmities unreconciled,
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 show, and how poor — even the
most solvent amongst us — if called on for a list of his lia-
bilities !
ME. merl's meditations. 4.57
Lest our moralising should grow uncomfortable, dear reader,
let us I'eturn to Mr. Merl, uow occupied, as he was, in this same
process of self-examination. He sat with a little note-book
before him, recalling 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 gratulatiou alternated with the
intervals of self-ieproach.
" Wednesda}"-, tlie 10th," muttered he to himself, " dined at
Philippe's — supped with Arkright and Bailey — whist at double
Nap. points — won four hundred and ten — might have made it a
thousand, but B. flung the cards out of the window in a passion,
and had to cease playing.
" Thursday — toothache — 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 pounds
his mother had just sent him.
" Friday — a good day's work — walked into Martin for two
thousand 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 returned as a bad copy by Fava —
took it at once, and said I was taken in myself — Sitwell 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, J
suspect, a plant of Sitwell's 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 Canchard's chateau at Ghent
45 fe THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN.
for his 6l6i debt at ecarte — don't like it, as it may be talked
about.
" Gave a dinner to Wilson, Morris, Leader, Whyte, and
Mai'tin — Lescour couldn't come — played little whist afterwards
— changed for hazard after supper — won a few Naps., and home
to bed.
"Took Rigby's cui'ricle 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. Rochette, to ask for alms — gave
three hundred francs, and secured his services against the police
— the cure mentions some curious drawings in the sacristy —
promised to go and see them.
" Bought Walrond's library for a franc a volume — the Elzivirs
alone worth double the amount paid — Bailey bolted, and so lose
his last bills — Martin quari'elsome — said he never yet won at
any sitting with me — lost seventy to him, and sent him home
satisfied.
" Gave five hundred francs for the drawings at St. R. —
abominable daubs, but the police grow more troublesome every
day — besides, Crowthorpe is collecting early studies of Rem-
brandt — these sketches are mai'ked R.
" A great evening — cleared Martin out — suspect that thip
night's work makes me an Irish estated gentleman— nnist
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 liave long since found out, that exploring in
Ireland is rather tough work. Everything 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 pi'oblems of labour and wages, the
condition of the people, the effects 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 waa
an insinuated interrogatory to himself. "Why are you here,
MR. merl's meditations. 459
Mr. Merl?** "How does it concern ijoh?" "What may be
your interest in the same investigation ? " This peculiar dialectic
met him as he landed ; it followed him to the west. Scaulan,
the landloi'd, 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 ever-
lastingly 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
newspapei', 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 up and search for yourself."
One more scrupulous might not exactly have fancied the office
thus suggested to him. He, however, was rather pleased with
the investigation, and, having satisfied himself that the mission
was safe, set forth to fulfil it. No. 4, as the strangei''s room
was called, was a large and lofty chamber, lighted by a single
bay-window, the deep recess of which was occupied by a
writing-table. Books, 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
cui'iously-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 affluence
and comfort, and Mi*. Merl pondered over them as he went from
place to place, tossing over one thing after another, and losing
himself in wild conjectui'es 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
460 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
statistics, tables of the varying results of emigration, notes
upon the tenure of land and the price of labour were all there,
interspersed with rejilies from different quarters to reseai'ches of
the writer's making. Numerous appeals to charity, entreaties
for small loans of money, were mingled with grateful acknow-
ledgments 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 con-
dition, and, above all, there wei'e 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. One conviction certainly did impress itself
strongly upon him — that he'd part with his claims on the estate
for almost anything, in preference to himself assuming the cares
and duties of an Irish landlord — a position which he summed
up by muttering to himself, " is simply to have so many acres of
bad 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 in hand, and that the seasons of suSering were
those of lawlessness and violence. Various hands were detect-
able 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 poli-
ticians, or was he one of those literary philanthropists who
trade upon the cheap luxui'y of pitying the poor and detailing
their 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 cledge to give the
MR. merl's meditatioxp. 461
captain some account of his dear country, here is a capital
opportunity to do so, not only with ease, but actually witli
honour." And having formed this resolve, he instantly pro-
ceeded to its execution. That wonderful little note-book, with
its strong silver clasps, so full of strange and curious informa-
tion, was now produced ; but he soon saw that the various facts
to be recorded demanded a wider space, and so he set himself
to write down on a loose sheet of paper notices of the land in
tillage or in pasture, the numerical condition 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 nari-ated. A
dreadful malady walked the land, and its victims lay in every
house ! The villages were depopulated, the little clusters of
houses at cross-roads were stricken, the lone shealing on the
mountain side, the miserable cottage of the dreary moor, were
each the scenes of desolation and death. It was as though the
land were about to be devastated, and the race of man swept
from its surface ! As he read on, he came upon some strictures
in the stranger's own hand upon these sad events, and perceived
how terribly had 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
compassionate 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 securities 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 hope-
lessness of expecting payment from a tenantry so circum-
stanced.
" Sympathy, indeed ! " ci'ied he; "I should like to hear of a
little sympathy for the unlucky fellow who has accepted a mort-
gage on this confounded estate ! These wretched creatures
have little to iose — and even death itself ought to be no un-
welcome relief to a life like theirs — but to a man such as I am,
with abundance of projects for his spare cash, this is a pretty
investment ! It is not impossible that this philanthropic
462 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
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 he 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 liad barely time to snatch up the paper on which he had
scrawled his notes, and hasten down stairs, when the obse-
quious landlord, rushing to the door, ushered in 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 inassive, 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 character not improbably aided by his temper as he entered,
for he had returned from scenes of miseiy and suffering, and
was in a mood of indignation at the neglect he had just wit-
nessed.
" You said truly," said he to the landlord ; " you told me I
shouldn't see a gentleman for twenty miles round, that all had
fled and left the people to their fate, and I see now it is a
fact."
" Faix, and no wonder," answered the host ; " wet potatoes
and the shaking ague, not to speak of cholera morbus, isn't
gi'eat 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
lO prove their birth and blood when a season of peril was
uear.**
" Thrue 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."
MR. merl's meditations. 463
" They left tlie ship iu a storm, they'll find a sorry wreck
when the}' return to it," muttered the stranger, as lie ascended
the stairs.
" By Jacob ! just what I suspected," said Merl to himselt*,
while he closed the door; "this property won't be worth six-
pence, and I am regularly ' done.' "
4Ci THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER XLIL
A HIGHT OF STOR:iI.
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, and even rustic cookery sufficed to make
fresh salmon, and mountain mutton, and fat woodcocks delec-
table ; while the remains of Mr. Scanlan's hamper set forth
some choice Madeira and several bottles of Sneyd's claret. Nor
was he for whose entainraent these good things were provided
in any way incapable of enjoying them. With the peculiar
sensuality of his race, he loved his dinner all to himself, and
alone. He delighted in the privileged selfishness that isolation
conferred, and he revelled in a sort of complacent flattery at
the thought of all the people who were dining worse than him-
self, and the stray thousands besides who were not destined on
that day to dine at all.
The self-caressing shudder that came over him as the sound
of a horse at speed on the shore 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 fresh log of pine,
and, filling up a bumper, seemed to linger as he viewed it, as
though wishing health and innumerable blessings to Mr.
Herman Merl.
The noise of the clattering hoofs died away in distance and
m 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 starled, perhaps ; we even need a word or two to re-
assure us that all is well, and then the work of pleasure goes
A NIGHT OF STORM. 465
on, and we foi'get 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 swept along in torrents — the wind 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 instinctive sense of the peril to be ajopi'ehended 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 she 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 sub-
limity in the scene, lit up at moments by the lightning ; 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 difficulty 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. Cx'ouching low upon the saddle —
stooping at times to the mane — she could barely make way
against the 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 advantage 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 up-
wards of a mile of this wearisome way, she arrived at the door
31
466 THE MAETIKS OF CRO MARTIN.
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 dreai^y solitude seemed the last refuge of direst
poverty.
She bent dovrn from her saddle to look in at the w^indow ;
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 reply was 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 attention, 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 either side. Mary tottered
as she drew nigher; a terrible sense of fear was over her — a
terror of she knew not what. She held the 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, IMary 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 pro-
stration. 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 hopefulness and high-hearted spirit, and there she lay
now a cold corpse, and he, bereaved and childless. What a
deal of sad philosophy do these words reveal ! What dark
contrasts do we bring up when we say, " It was but the other
day." It was but " the other day," and Cro' Martin was the
home of one whose thriving tenantry reflected back all his
efibrts for their welfare, when movement and occupation bespoke
a condition of activity and cheerful industry; when, even in
their poverty, the people bore bravely up, and the cases of
sufiering 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 Sovei-eign in the
middle of her subjects ; happy faces beamed brighter when she
A NIGHT OF STORM. 467
came, and even miseiy half forgot itself in hei' presence. Bub
•' 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 farewell 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 direc-
tion, 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 watch-
fulness, 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.
For 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 advances now slowly and carefully between
two rude walls of dry masonry which lead to the hall-door. As
she nears the house, the gleam of lights from between the ill-
closed shutters attract hex-, and suddenly, through 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 proclaiming the hearty
approval of some sentiment or opinion.
While she halts to determine what course next to follow — for
468 TH^ MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
these signs of revelry have disconcerted her — she hears a rough,
loud voice from within call out, " There's another toast j'on
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 wonour 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 me — 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 Repton, 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, gentlemen," resumed the speaker, "ye may well ask
where is he 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 dissent, 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
scurrilous attack upon the family at Cro' Martin ! ' " (Groans.)
"Ay, but listen," continued he: "'And if I find,' said he — 'if I
find that in 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 stuff you
thought you'd make a Patriot out of ! "
" Say what you like, Tom Magennis, he's a credit to the town,"
said old Hayes, " and he 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 there's nothing between us ; and I told him so, and more
besides ; for I said, " You may flatter them and crawl to them ;
you may be as servile as a serpent or a boa-constrictor to thom;
but take my word for it, Mister Joe — or Counsellor NelHgaUj if
A NIGHT OF STORM. 469
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!'"
" You told him that ! " cried several together.
" I did, sir ; and I believe for a minute he meant to strike me ;
he got pale with 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 undertaking the cause of a ruflfian ! ' ' 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 ! "
" We've other work before us than quarrelling amongst our-
selves," said the bland voice of Father Rafferty ; " and now for
your toast, Tom, for I'm dry waiting for it."
"Here it is, then," cried Magennis. "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
remarked, ' It was false pity for individuals destroyed the great
revolution of France.' It was " Mary did not wait for
more, but, turning her horse's head, moved slowly around to-
wards 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 unserviceable. 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. An 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 utensils were on the fire, and two or three joints of
meat hung roasting before it, while the hearth was strewn with
dishes, awaiting the savoury fare that was to fill them.
470 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
These, and many other 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 and 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
on her head, she rushed hurriedly in, her face deeply flushed,
and her eyes sparkling with excitement. Hastily snatching up
a check apron that lay on a chair, she fastened it about her, and
drew near the fire. It was plain from her gesture, as she took
the ladle from the old womans's hand, that she was angry, and
by her manner seemed as if rebuking her. The old crone,
however, only crouched lower, and spreading out her wasted
fingers towards the blaze, appeared insensible to everything
addressed to her. Meanwhile 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 keen-
ness eveiy 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, approached a fragment of a bx'oken
looking-glass that stood against the wall. Drawing herself
up to her full height, she stood gazing proudly, delightedly, at
her own figure. The humble apron, too, was speedily discarded,
and as she trampled it beneath her feet she seemed to spurn
the mean condition of which it was the symbol. Mary Martin
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 walked
to the kitchen-door, raised the latch, and entered. She had
made but one step within the door when Joan turned and
beheld her, and there they both stood, silently, each surveying
the other. Mai'y felt too intensely the difficulty of the task
before her to utter a word without well weighing the con-
sequences. She knew how the merest accident might frustrate
all she had in view, and stood hesitating and uncertain, when
Joan, who now recognised her, vacillated between her instinctive
sense of respect and a feeling of defiance in the consciousness
of where she was. Happily for her, the former sentiment pre-
A NIGHT OF STORM. 4-71
vailed, and in a tone of kindly anxiety Joan drew neav her and
said :
"Has anything- happened? I trust in God no accident has
befel yon."
" 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 off 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."
" What is it ? tell me what it is ? " cried Joan, as a sudden
paleness spread over her features.
"These are daj's of sorrow and moui'ning everywhere," said
Mary, gloomily. " Can you not guess what my tidings may
be? No, no," cried she, as a sudden gesture of Joan inter-
rupted her — " no, not yet ; he is still alive, and entreats to see
" 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. Remember that he is alone, deserted by all that
once were his, Your 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 dis-
honour 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 Jiim ! "
" You are wrong, Joan Landy."
" Joan ! — who dares to call me Joan Landy when I'm Mrs.
472 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
Magennis of Barnagheela? and if I'm not your equal, I'm as
good as any other in the 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 brought you through the
storm ! Ay," cried she, lashed to a wilder passion by her own
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 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,
bitterly. "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 ! "
" Oh ! my blessings on you — if the blessing of one like me is
any good," cried she, kissing Mary'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 speak-
ing she took oflF 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 1 " 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 rendered, 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.
A KIGHT OF STORM. 473
" Oh, tell rae," she cried, as the tears streamed from her eyes,
and her lips quivered with agony, " oh, tell rae I'm doing right;
tell me that God's blessing is going with me this night, 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."
"Oh, is it not to leave this — to leave him — maybe for ever?
To be sure it's for ever," cried she, bitterly. "He'll never
forgive me ! "
A wild burst of revelry now resounded from the parlour, and
the discordant sounds of half-drunken voices burst upon their ears.
Joan started, and gazed wildly around her. The agonised
look of her features bespoke her dread of detection, and then,
with a bound, she sprung madly from the spot, and was away,
Mary followed quickly, but before she had secured her horse
and mounted, the other was already half-way down the 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 befoi'e you."
" I know it well," was the brief reply.
"And if you go by Burnane the rocks are slippy with the
rain, and the path to the shore is full of dangei'."
"If I was afeard of danger would I be here?" cried she
" Oh, Miss Mary," added she, 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.
474t THE MARTINS OF CRO' MAETIN.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE END OP A BAK MESS.
There are few things more puzzling to the uninitiated than
the total separation lawyers are able to exercise between their
private sentiments and the emotions they display in the wear
and tear of their 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 actually 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 each other's blood, are seen
laughingly going homeward 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 discriminate between the faithful performance of a duty
and the natural course of their affections. Still, small-minded
folk — of which wide category we own ourselves to be a part —
may have their misgivings that the excellence of this system ia
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 sacrificed in this continual
struggle between fiction and reality.
The Bar is the nursery of the Senate, and it would not be a
TEE END OF A CAB MESS. 475
very fanciful speculation were we to ascribe the laxity of pur-
pose, the deficient earnestness, and the insincerity of principle
we often deplore 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 he puts on his sarcasm,
his insolence, and his incredulity. His brief bag opens to him
a Pandora's box of noxious influences; and as he passes the
precincts of the court, he leaves behind him 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 un-
reservedly to his client, and does not measure his ardour by
the instructions in his brief. Let us ask pai'don of our reader
for what may seem a mal a i^i'opos 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 lawj^ers 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 Repton." This able " leader "
Lad determined not to visit the west of Ireland so long as his
friend Martin remained abi'oad ; but a very urgent entreaty from
Scanlan, and a pressing request for his presence, had induced
him to waive that resolve, and come down special to Oughterard
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
unfrequented spot — so small a skirmish could never have called
foi the horse, foot, and dragoons of law — the wily conveyancer,
the clap-trap oratoi', the browbeater 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
allusion 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 absence 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 too-e-
ther to perfection.
476 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
As the evening wore on, the company insensibly thinned off.
Some of the hard-workers retired early ; a few, whose affecta-
tion 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
Repton 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 Saurin, and a host of others,
who only needed that the sphere should have been greater to
be themselves among the great of the nation.
Rawlins was Repton's schoolfellow, and had been his rival at
the Bar for nigh fifty years. Niel, a few years younger than
either, was the greatest orator of his time. Both had been
opposed to Repton in the present suit, and had held heavy re-
tainers for their services.
" Well Repton," said Rawlins, 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 Repton. To summon us all
down here — to bring us some fifty miles away from our accus-
tomed beat, for a trumpery affair like this, is totally beyond
me. Had it been an election time, I should probably have un-
derstood 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 Rawlins ; and even if he had not time
to speak it, the county paper would have had it all printed and
corrected from his own hand, with all the appropx'iate inter-
ruption of 'vociferous cheering,' and the places where the
orator was obliged to pause, from the wild tumult of acclama-
tion that surrounded him."
" Which all resolves itself into this," screamed Niel, " that
some men's after-grass is better than other men's meadows."
"Mine has fallen to the scythe many a dav ago," said
THE END OF A BAR JIESS. 477
Rawlins, plaintively ; " but I remember glorious times and
glorious fellows. It was, indeed, worth something- to say,
'Vixissi cum illis.' "
"There's another still better, Rawlins," cried Repton, joy-
ously, "which is to have survived them ! "
" 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 Rolls, and
such like," said Repton.
" By the way," said Rawlins, " who put that squib in the
papers about your having refused the rolls — eh, Niel ? "
"Who but Niel himself," chimed in Repton. " It was filing
a bill of discovery. He wanted to know the intentions of the
Government."
" I could have had but little doubt of them," broke in Niel.
" It was my advice, man, cancelled your appointment as Crown
Counsel, Repton. I told Massingbred, ' If you do keep a watch-
dog, let it be at least one who'll bite some one beside the
family.' "
" He has muzzled you there, Repton," said Rawlins, laughing.
" Eh, that was a bitter draught ! "
" So it was," said Repton. " 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 really have
nothing to compare with O'Grady, and Parsons, and a score
of others."
" I'll tell you why," cried Niel — " the commodity isn't mar-
ketable. 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 ; tire-
some people came in with high neckcloths."
" I wish they'd go out with hempen ones, then," muttered
Repton.
"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 offered, he flung a pebble at the Church.
" They wei'e very brilliant — they were very splendid, I own,"
said Rawlins; "but I have certain misgivings that they gave
themselves too much to society."
'*l^xpended too much of their powdei' in fireworks," cripd
478 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Niel, sharply — "so tliey did; bat their rockets showed how
high they could rise to."
"Ay, Niel, and we only burn our fingers with ours," said
Repton, sarcastically.
" Depend upon it," resumed Rawlins, " as the 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 succeeded him."
"And were they not alchemists?" exclainaed old Repton,
enthusiastically. " Did they not transmute the veriest dross of
the earth, and pour it forth from the crucible of their minds a
stream of liquid gold ? — g'lorious fellows, who, in the rich
abundance of their minds, bi'ought 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 man-
hood."
"And yet how little have tbey bequeathed to us! " said Niel.
" Would it were even less," broke in Repton. We read the
witticism of brilliant couversers in some diary or journal, often
ill recorded, 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 interconrse,
where the impromptu fell like a thunderbolt, and the bon mots
rattled like a fire of musketry. To attempt to convey an im-
pression of these great talkers by a memoir, is like to picture a
battle by reading out a list of the killed and wounded."
" Repton is right ! " exclaimed Kiel, " 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 Repton, always glad to follov^} up an illustra-
tion.
"After all," said Rawlins, "the fashion of the day is changed
in other respects as well as in conversational excellence. No-
thing 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 v/as first-rate," said Repton, with enl' . !asm. "I say ifc
, THE END OF A BAR MESS, 479
frankly, and ' fas est ab hoste,' for he tripped me up in a point
of law, and I have therefore a right 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 enough to detect
me.
" Niel and I are doubtless much complimented by the remark,"
Baid Rawlins,
"Pooh, pooh ! " cried Re^iton, " what did great guns like you
and Niel care for such ' small deer.' You were only brought
down here as a great corps cle reserve. It was young Nelligau
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, Rawlins, you know it well. We were speech-makers — these
fellows are lawyers."
" Why didn't he dine with us to-day ? " asked Niel, sharply,
" Heaven knows, I believe his father lives in the town here ;
perhaps, too, he had no fancy for a dress-parade before such
drill-sergeants as j'ou and Rawlins there,"
" You are acquainted with him, I think ? " asked Rawlins.
"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 where
embarrassing recollections in a society who knew nothing of
deans or proctors. There was another young fellow also there
at the time — young Massiugbred — 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 impudence, threw
poor Nelligau completely into the background. It was the
same kind of thing I've often seen Niel there perform at the
Four 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 yoii,, Repton," said Niel, with a sarcastic
smile. " You had always the privilege the poet ascribes to him
who laughs ' before a robber.' "
"Vacuus sed non Inauis," replied Repton, laughing good-
humouredly.
" But tell us more of this man Nelligan," said Rawlins. "I'm
curious to hear about him."
"And so you are sure to do some of these days, Rawlins.
That fellow is the man to attain high eminence."
480 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" His religion will stop him! " cried Niel, sharply, for, being
himself a Romanist, he was not sorry to have an opportunity of
alluding to the disqualifying element.
" Say, rather, it will promote him," chimed in Repton.
" Take my word for it, Niel, there is a spirit of mawkish
repai'ation abroad which aflPects to feel that all your co-religion-
ists have a long arrear due to them, and that all the places and
emoluments so long withheld from their ancestors should be
showei^ed 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 Repton; "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 bless yourself because you're a
Papist, but that you are one! Ay, sir, it is in ' Liffey-sti-eet
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. For 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
preference, 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 devoid 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 chib foot."
" A most lame conclusion I " cried Niel. " Ah, Rawlins,"
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 Repton, gaily. "I know what you allude to.
It is an old imperfection of mine not to be abte to enunciate the
letter r correctly, and that was the reason to-day, in Court, that
rilE EXD OF A BAR MESS. 481
T called you my ingenious Bother; but I meant Brotlier, I assnio
you."
They all laughed good-huraouredly at the old man's sally ; in
good truth, so trained were tliey 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 Repton; " will you both come and tneet him ? "
"We're oiF at cock-crow! " cried Niel. "Tell him, however,
from me, that I am delighted with his dehut., and that all the
best wishes of my friends and myself are with him."
And so they parted.
Repton, however, did not retire to bed at once; his mind was
still intent upon the subject which had engaged him during the
day, and as he walked to and fro in his room, he still dwelt
upon it. Scanlan's instructions had led him to believe that the
Martins w'ere in this case to have been "put upon their title;"
and the formidable array of counsel employed by Magennis
seemed to favour the impression. Now it was true that a
trifling informality in the service of the writ had quashed the
pi'oceedings for the present, but the question remained, "Was
the great stiuggle 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. From
what fund, then, came these resources ? Was there a com-
bination 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 veiy threat of attack has been prompted by some
weakness of which he is unawai^e.
"To 2)ut us on our title," said he, "implies a great wai\ Let
lis try and find out who and what are they who presume to
declare it!"
32
462 THE MARTIN'S Oil' CRO' MARXIW.
CHAPTER XLIV.
A FIRST BRIEF.
The reader lias been already told that Joe Nelligan had
achieved a great success in his first case. A disputed point of
law had been raised, in itself insignificant, bat involving in its
train a vast variety of momentous interests, Repton, with an
ingenuity all his ow^n, had contrived to draw the discussion
beyond its original limits, that he might entangle and embarrass
the ambitious junior who had dai'ed to confute him. Nelligan
accepted the challenge at once, and after a stormy discussion of
some hours came out the victor. For a while his timid manner,
and an overpowering sense of the great odds against him,
seemed to weigh oppressively on him. The very successes 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.
Wiiat a many-sided virtue is this same courage ! and how
prone is the world to award its praises unequally for it. We
are enthusiastic for the g-allant soldier the earliest in 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 — '
A FIRST BRIEF. 483
who, rising with each new victory, is hailed by that dearest and
best of all testimonies, the prideful enthusiasm 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 I'eal field of action!
Imagine such a man, with all the prestige of his college fame,
rudely encountered and overcome in the contest of public life,
and say if any death ever equalled the suffering !
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, already stamped with the impress of
success in what, to every Irishman's heart at least, is the first
of all professions. The High Sherifi" shook old Nelligan'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 robiug-room, and spoke his warm
praises of " the admiral speech, as remarkable for its legal
soundness as for its eloquence ;" and Repton ovei'took him in
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 once stood in the position of Joe Nelligan, in so far as
regards the hour of his triumph ; and have felt in his heart the
ecstasy of covering with his fame the " dear head " of a fi^ther.
If so, I ask him boldly — whatever may have been the high
rewards of his later fire — whatever honours may have been
showered upon him, however great his cai'eer, and however
brilliant its recognitions — has he ever, in his proudest moments,
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 para*
48 i THE MARTINS OF CTJO' MARTIN.
graphs 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 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 excite-
ment 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
address — 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 thi'ough 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 who told me."
" Counsellor Walsh," cried Nelligan.
"No, indeed ; I never seen him."
" It was Hosey Lynch, then, for I saw him running like 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, sud-
denly starting from some deep meditation.
"Who told me that you won the cause, and beat all the
great counsellors from Dublin."
"I'm sure, mother, it would be hard for me to say," said
Joseph, smiling faintly; "some of our kind townsfolk, perhaps.
Father Neal, old Peter Hayes, or
" I'll just tell you at once," broke she in, half irritated at
the suggested source of her information. " It was Miss Mary
herself, and no other."
"Miss Martin ! " exclaimed old Nelligan.
A FIRST BKIEF, 485
"Miss Mary Martin!" echoed Joe, while a sickly paleness
crept over his features, and his lips trembled as he spoke.
" How came you to see her ? Where was she ? " asked
Nelligan, eagerly.
"I'll tell you," replied she, with all the methodical prepara-
tion by which she heralded in the least important communica-
tions — "I'll 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 yourself — 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, im-
patiently.
"I'm coming to her, if you'll let me; bat when you flurry
me and frighten me, I'm ready to faint. It was last Candle-
mas you gave me a start, Dan, about — what was it, now?
Lucky Mason's dog, I believe. No, it was the chimney took
fire "
" Will you just go back to Miss Martin, if you please," said
old Nelligan, sternly.
" I wish I knew where I was — what I was saying last," said
she, in a tone of deep sorrow and contrition.
" You were going to say how Miss Mary told you all about
the trial mother," said Joe, taking her hand kindly within his
own.
" Yes, darling ; now I remember it all. I was sitting here
at the window hemming 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 yoii; ' 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. Nelligan,' 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 called to tell you that your son has gained
another ' 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
486 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
througli. It's more than your life's worth to go off now
another ten miles, I'll send our gossoon, Mickey Slatei*, with
the medicine, if you'll just come in and stay with us.' I didn'fc
say to dinner, for I was ashamed to ask her to that.
" ' I should be delighted Mrs. Nelligan,' said she, ' but it is
impossible 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
heai'd 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. ITelli-
gan,' 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. Good-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 had
time to shut down the window, she was out of sight 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 syllable did he utter." This old Nelligan
spoke with a proud consciousness of his son's honourable con-
duct."
"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 moment to assail an honourable gentleman ; and not
alone you, but a dozen others, congratulated me on this reserve
— this constraint — as though the lawyer were but a bravo, and
A FIBST BRIEF. 487
his stiletto once paid for, he must produce the body of his
Tictim. I regard my profession in another and a higher lig'ht;
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 tD-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 diflBcult 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
kindness was not invariably distinguished by tact — "just come
over with me 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 friendly 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 Martin 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 yovi are not to see it, father," said Joe, 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 Destiny 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 Miss Martin's
company. Now, it was some trifling message for his mother!
now, some book he had himself promised to fetch her; then
visits to the sick — and Joe, latterly, hed taken a most benevolent
turn — had constantly brought them together; and often, when
Mary 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, ih& destitution of the poor —
and on this theme their sympathies, and hopes, and fears all
4B3 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTLV.
agreed. Ifc was not only that they concurred in tbeiv views of
the national character, but that they attributed its traits of good
or evil to the very same causes; and while Nellig'an was amazed
at finding- the daughter of a proud house deeply conversant with
t'he daily life of the humblest peasant, she, too, was astonished
how sincere 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 the difliculties that her lone and
solitary station exposed her to. Many things were done on the
property without — some indirect ojiposition to — her concurrence.
As she once said herself, " We are so ready to satisfy our con-
sciences by assuming that whatever we may do legally we have
a right to do morally, and at the same time, in the actual con-
dition 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 we have seen — what
soi'row it cost him is more than we can describe. " Miss
Martin," thought he, " would know nothing of the lailes which
prescribe our practice, and will look upon my conduct here as a
treason. For 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 to employ 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 g'ood esteem of one whose praise he had accounted more
costly than the highest distinction 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 all that 1 venerate and respecL
A FIRST BRIEF. 489
I must either be a traitor to my own, or to m}^self ; declare my
enmity to all I think most highly of, or sufier my motives to be
impngned, and my fame tarnished."
There was, indeed, one circumstance in this ti'ansaction which
displeased him greatly, and of which he was only aware when
too late. The Magennis defence had been "got up" by a sub-
scription — a fund to which Joseph's own father had contributed.
Amongst the machinery of attack upon the landed gentry,
Father Neal Rafferty had suggested the expediency of "putting
them on their titles " in cases the most trivial and insignificant.
Forfeiture and coufiscatiou had followed each other so frequently
in Irish history — grants and revocations were so mixed up
together — some, attested in all formality, others, irregular and
imperfect — that it was currently believed there was scarcely one
single estate of the whole 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 sei'vice, 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 susiucion that the whole scheme of this attack might
be laid to his charge, the information to substantiate which he
had thus surreptitiously obtained. It was clear enough, from
what his mother had said, that such was not Miss Martin's
pi'esent impression; but who could say what representations
might be made to her, and what change affected in her senti-
ments ? " And this," cried he, in indignation — " 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 distinction! 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 difficulty 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.
490 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 which now blew upon him from his open window
had given fresh energy to his nature, he determined he would
persist in his career in his own country. "My fiite 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 contamination of a mock
patriotism! If I 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-contained 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 his features as he entered the room where Repton sat
awaiting him for breakftxst.
" I see what's the matter with you," said the old lawyer, as
he entered. ''You have passed the night after a 'first brief.'
This day ten years you'll speak five hours before the Lords 'in
error,* and never lose a wink of sleep after it's over! '*
im^--
ME. HEPTON LOOKS IN. 491
CHAPTER XLV.
MB. REPTON LOOKS IK.
On the day after that some of whose events we have just
recorded, and towai'ds nightfall, Mary Martin slowly drove
along the darkly-wooded avenue of Cro' Martin. An unusual
sadness overweighed her. She was just returning from the
funeral of poor old Mat Landy, one of her oldest favoui-ites as
a child. He it was who first taught her to hold an oar; and,
seated beside him, she first learned to stear a " corragh "
through 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 that 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
fishermen of the coast alone accompanied the car which bore
the coffin ; 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 chui'chyard that ci'owned a clifi* over the sea — a wild
solitary spot — an old gable, a ruined wall, a few low grave
stones, and no moi'e. The clifi* 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
492 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
beacon fire to ships iu 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 arra stiffened, and the rough, deep voice that
used to sound above the tempest, silent for ever.
" Never 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 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 the 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 humour to converse.
" A wife, or a daughter, perhaps ? " asked the other again.
" Neither one nor the otlier," 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 Henderson'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
cliff".
" 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 different cabins as she drove along, so many times was
she stopped to give a word of advice or counsel, that it was
ali-eady duskish as she reached Cro' Martin, and found herself
once more near home. " You're late with the post this evening,
Billy," said she, overtaking the little fellow who carried the
mail from Oughterai'd.
"Yes, miss," there was great work sortin' the letters that
came in this morning, for I believe there's going to be another
ME. EEPTON LOOKS IN. 493
election ; at least I heard Hosey Lynch say it was all about that
made the bag so full."
" I'm sony 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 Bill3^ '"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 Mary, half smiling at the remark.
"Thrue as I'm here, miss. I wouldn't wonder if it was the
goold for bribin' the chops makes it weigh so much."
"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 mimber ; and more says the Magennis of
Barnngliecla will stand."
" A most excellent choice that would be, certainly," said
Mary, laughing.
"Faix! 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 honor, Mr. Martin, could
have the power to make Maurice Scanlan a Parlimint man."
"And has any one hinted at such a possibility ? " said she, in
astonishment.
"Indeed, then, it was the talk of the market this morniu' ,
and many a one said he's the very fellow Avould get in."
" Is he such a general favourite in Oughterard ? "
" I'm not sure it's that, miss," said Billy, thoughtfully.
"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 otf that; 'tis his word
can make a baron3'-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,
494; THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
whicli sbe at once recognised as Mr. Repton's, said, " Here
I am, my dear Miss Martin ; arrived in time, too, to welcome
you home again. You paid me a visit yesterday "
"Yes," broke she in; "but you were shaking your ambrosial
curls at the time, browbeating the bench, or cajoling the jury,
or something 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 T, and a dozen like me pass away,
our places will be filled by others that will keep the I'epute of
our great profession high in the public estimation."
" This is worthy of you, sir," cried Mary, pressing the arm she
leaned on more closely.
" And now, my dear ]\Iiss j\Iary," 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 positively declare. They told me in the town that you
half killed yourself with fatigue — that you frequently were
days long on horseback, and nights watching by sick beds ; but
if this be the I'esult, benevolence is indeed its own reward."
"Ah, my dear Mr. Repton, 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
untruth. I must be off; to-night I have a special retainer for a
great record at Roscommon, 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 tiiat already, my deai-," said he, gaily ; "and
what is moi'e, I have dictated the bill of fare. I guessed what
a young lady's simple meal might be, and I have been down to
the cook, and you shall see the result."
" Then it only I'emains for me to think of the cellar. What
shall it be, sir? The Burgundy that you joraised so highly last
winter, or the 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
MR. REPTON LOOKS IN. 495
himself, as bo walked alone, up and down the room; "beautj,
grace, fascination — all that can charm and attract; and then,
such a nature — childlike in gaiety, and chivalrous, ay, chivalrous
as a chevalier ! "
"I see, sir, you are reheai'sing 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. Aud they
both entered the dinner room.
So long" as the meal lasted Repton's conversation was entirely
devoted to such topics as he might have discussed at a formal
dinner-jiarty. He talked of the world of society, its deaths,
births, and marriages — its changes of place and amusement.
He narrated the latest smart things that were going the round
of the clubs, aud hinted at the political events that wei"e passing.
But the servants gone, and the chairs dvawu closer to the blazing
hearth, his tone changed at once, and in a voice of tremulous
kindness he said :
" I can't bear to think of the solitude of this life of yours !
— na}% hear me out. I say this, not for you, since in the high
devotion of a noble purpose you are above all its penalties ; but
I cannot endure to think that ive 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 bad' here of an evening, it often happens that my
greatest enioymeut is the very sense of isolation that awaits
me. Do you know," added she, " that very often the letter-bag
lies unopened by me till morning ? 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 Repton. " 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 some-
what felicitous one. He was wishing that some historian would
choose for his subject the lives of Irish Lord-Lieuteuants; not,
he remarked, in a mere spirit of party, or with the levity of
partisanship, but in a spirit becoming the dignity of history — ■
such as Hume himself might have done. 'Yes, my lord,' I
replied, ' your observation is most just, it should be a continua-
406 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
tion of Rajoine.' Eli! it was a home-thrust, wasn't it? — ' ,'i
continuation of Rapine.' " And the old man laughed 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 tliem, and even when thcj do, the chances are that they
store them up in their memories, to retail afterwards as their
own. I have detected my own stolen property more than once,
but always so damaged by weai', and disfigured by ill-usage,
that I never thought of reclaiming it."
" The affluent need never fret for a little robbery," said Mary
smiling.
"Ay, but they may like to be the dispensers of their own
riches," rejoined Rejaton, who never was happier than when
able to carry out another's illustration.
" Is Lord Reckington 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 dullness. Such men converse as stupid whisfc
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 arreai\ 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 went 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 com'se you gave it ; you gave them what was fifty times
more precious — the kind ministei'ings of your own angelic
nature, the soft woi^ds, and soft looks and smiles that a prince
might have kueilt for. I'm not worthy to drink another glass
ME. REPTON LOOKS IN. 497
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, following 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 c£ threatening danger. The catalogue of the
assizes is a dark record ; I never saw its equal, no more have J
ever Avitnessed anything to compare with the dogged indiffer-
ence of the men arraigned. The Irishman 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 trem-
bling, and Repton, turning quickly towards her, said :
" I know what you point at : the irritated feeling of the
people and that insolent menace they dared to aflBx to his own
door."
"You 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 Kil-
timmon 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 hid her face within her hands, but closely as she
pressed them there, the warm tears would force their way
through, and fall, dropping, on her bosom.
" You are a noble girl," cried he, in ecstasy ; " and in all your
great trials there is nothing finer than this, that the work of
your benevolence 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 miscreant."
" How could I so wrong them, sir ? " broke she out. " Who
better than myself can speak of their glorious courage, their
33
498 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
patient resignation, 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 veiy poorest sharing the little alms bestowed upon
their wretchedness ? Have I not heard the most touching
words of gratitude from lips growing cold in death ? You
may easily show me lands of greater comfort, where the bless-
ings of wealth and civilization 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 replj'," said Repton ; " 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 up her features.
" The chaise is at the door, sir," said a servant, entering and
addressing Repton.
" Already ! " exclaimed he. " Why, my dear Miss Mary, it
can't surely be eight o'clock. No ; but," added he, lookiug 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
Martiu, " and bring tea."
" A most excellent suggestion," chimed in Repton. " Do
you know, my dear, that we old bachelors never thoroughly
appreciate all that we have missed in domesticity till we ap-
proach a tea-table. We surround ourselves with fifty mockeries
of home-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. Repton remained a Benedict ? " asked
she, gaily.
"By the old accident, that he wouldn't take what he might
have, and couldn't get what he wished. Add to that," con-
tinued he, after a pause, " when a man comes to a certain time
of life without marrying, the world has given to him a certain
place, assigned to him, as it were, a certain part, which would
be utterly marred by a wife. The familiai'ity of one's female
acquaintance — the pleasantest spot in old bachelorhood —
couldn't stand such an ordeal ; and the hundred-and-oue eccen-
tricities pardonable and pardoned in the single man, would be
MK, REPTON LOOKS IN. 499
condemned in tlie married one. You shake your head. Well
now, I'll put it to the test. Would you, or could you, make me
your confidant so unreservedly if there were such a person as
Mrs. Repton in 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 re-
gular authorities."
" Perhaps you ai'e right," said she, thoughtfully ; " at all
events, I 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 postboy won't wait, or something has gone wi'ong. 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. Repton remains here for the night."
" And Mr. Repton obeys," said he, bowing ; " though what is
to become of ' Kelly versus Lenaham 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 lorief 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 attentions he once
met at your uncle's hands, but far more so of certain kind-
nesses shown to his mother, by yourself; and surmising that
you might be unaware of the exacting nature of our Bar
etiquette, that leaves no man at liberty to decline a cause, he
tortured himself inventing means to set himself right with
you."
" But I know your etiquette, sir, and I respect it ; and Mr.
Nelligan never stood higher in my estimation than by his con-
duct of yesterday. You 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."
500 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" What a diplomatist it is," said Repton, smiling affectionately
at her. " How successful must all this tact be when engaged
with the people! Nay, no denial; you know in your heart
what subtle devices it supplies you with,"
" And yet, I'm not so certain that what you call my diplo-
macy may not have involved me in some trouble — at least, there
is the chance of it."
" As how, my dear child ? "
"You shall hear, sir. You know the story of that poor girl
at Barnagheela, whom they call Mrs. Magennis? Well, her
old grandfather — as noble a heart as ever beat — had never
ceased to pine after her fall. She had been the very light of
his life, and he loved her on, through 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 her
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 fled, no one knows
whither. All trace of her is lost; and though I have sent
messengers on every side, none have yet discovered her,"
" Suicide is not the vice of our people," said Repton,
gravely.
" I know that well, and the knowledge makes me hopeful.
But what sufferings 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 brave the greatest perils with 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 Repton, doubt-
ingly — " I'm not so sure of that." And, with crossed arms
and bent-down head, he paced the room slowly back and for-
wai'ds. "^Ay," muttered he to himself, "Thursday night —
Friday, at all events — will close the record. 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, " There'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 o-^ Friday evening. Nay,
my dear, the rule is made absolute."
MR. REPTON LOOKS IN, 501'
" I agree,** said she, " if it secures me a longer visit on your
return."
A few moments afterwards saw Repton 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 circum-
stances of no ordinary difficulty, and in a case where vast in-
terest, considerable influence, and, I may add — may add "
The words died away, and he was asleep.
502 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTm.
CHAPTER XLVI.
LADY DOROTHEA'S LETTER.
Though it was late when Repton 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 servants to their friends or rela-
tions at Cro' Martin — all, as usual, under cover to Miss Martin,
and at last she found one in Lady Dorothea's 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 : —
" Carlsruhe, Saturday Evening,
Cour de Bade.
"My dear Niece,
"It was only yesterday, when looking 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 dis-
covered had never been communicated to me — though this
mark of deficient confidence will doubtless seem less surprising
to yoii,.
" 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 fatnine and
pestilence. It is not my intention here to advert to what may
possibly be a very natural error in your account — the exagger-
ated picture you draw of their sufierings ; your sympathy with
them, and your presence to witness much of what they are
enduring, will explain and excuse the highly-coloured state-
LADY DOROTHEAS LETTER. 503
ment of their sorrows. It were 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 ai'e filled with appeals for abate-
ments of rent, loans to carry out improvements, stipends for
schoolmasters, doctors, scripture-readers, and a tribe of other
hangers-on, that 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 jaret'erence to committing the office to another.
" It really seems to me that you regard onr position as landed
proprietors 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 scanty 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 has
been the suggestion of your own genius, it is right you should
know that you hold doctrines in common with the most dis-
tinguished 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, because the original fault of committing
the management of this property to your hands was the
work of another. Let me hope that sincere 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 feai*, and
turning over the pages of the long letter, she sought for some
allusion to her uncle. At length she found the following lines:
"Your cousin wovild have left this for Ireland, but for the
sudden seizure your poor uncle 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 par-
ticularly — and his utterance quite inarticulate."
For so7ne minutes she could read no more, the warm tears
rolled down her cheeks and dropped heavily on the papei', and
ghe could only mutter to herself, " My poor, dear uncle — my
604 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN,
last, my only friend in the world ! " Drying her eyes, with a
great effort she read on :
" The remedies have been bo far successful as to arrest the
progress of the malady, and his appetite is good, and his spirits,
everything considered, are excellent. Of course, all details of
business are strictly 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
diflBculty of travelling without suitable companionship, and
other circumstances, it would, on the whole, be a step we should
not recommend ; and, indeed, your uncle himself has not ex-
pressed 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 cstab-
lishment there within 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 her duties,
while her long-acquired habits of expense render her incom-
patible with any new regulations to enforce economy. A moder-
ate pension — something, howevei', in accordance 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 considering the very little probability of our making the
place a residence again, might be turned to more profitable use.
You will confer with Henderson on the subject, and inquire how
far it might be advisable to cultivate vegetables for mai'ket,
or convert them into paddocks for calves, or, in short, anything
which, if less remunerative, should still save the enormous out-
lay 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 when 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 siace I have taken to the habit of getting
LADY DOROTHEA'S LETTER. 505
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 effected by obtaining a
tenant for Cro' Martin, while you, if still desirous of remaining
in the county, might be most comfortably accommodated 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 assured 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 with him on this
project, nor strengthen my advice by what most probably would
be Ms 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 suggestion in the spirit in which it is offered, I
think that both for your uncle's satisfaction and your own
dignity, the proposal ought to come from yourself. You could
make it to me 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 would, 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 handsome allowance for Henderson, and
indeed for that sum he ought to keep your pony, if you still
continue 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
50 G THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
your own dlgriity, as what is required by your uncle's interests.
Tour cousin, I am forced to avow it, has been very silly, very
inconsiderate, not alone in contracting heavy 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 palliation of
errors which have their origin in high and generous qualities.
Plantagenet was thrown 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 settlement of his diflBculties will ever
x'estore him to his wonted sj^irits. You will thus perceive,
that if my suggested change of life to you should not conform
entirely to your wishes, 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, whose
seat Mt\ Massingbred has determined to vacate. Although not
admitting the reason for his conduct, I am strongly convinced
that the step is a mere acknowledgment of an error on his
part, and an eflFort, however late, at the ' amende honorable.'
The restitution, for so I am forced to regard it, comes most
inopportunely, since it would be a most ill-chosen moment in
which to incur the expense of a contested election ; besides that,
really your cousin has no desire whatever 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 Avill not continue a
theme so little attractive to you.
" Dr. Schubart has just called to see your uncle. He is not
altog'ether so satisfied with his state as I could have hoped; he
advises change of scene, and a little more intercourse with the
world, 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 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
LADY DOROTHEAS LETTER. 507
* Vins du Midi.' There is also a mixture to be taken — of whicli
ho 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. Schubiirt. Indeed, I think it might be a very
reasonable demand to make of the Government, but unhappily
my present 'relations' with my relative Lord Reckington pre-
clude 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 the people, amusing their minds
by easily-learned games and simple pleasures. I fear me, how-
evex', that the coarser natures of our population may not derive
adequate amusement from the resources which would have such
eminent success with the enlightened peasant of the Rhine land.
Dr. S., I may remark, is a very distinguished writer on politics,
and daily amazes us with the astounding speculations he is form-
ing as to the future condition of Europe. His conviction is that our
great peril is Turkey, and that Mahommedanism will be the
religion of Europe before the end of the present century. 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 something not very far from impertinent
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 hcdj broached the project I was suggesting'
to you, and he seemed highly to approve of so much as I ven-
tured to tell him. Nothing then is wanting but your own
concurrence to make it as practicable, as it is deemed advisable,
by your affectionate aunt,
"Dorothea Martin."
508 THB MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
The eccentricities of her annt's character had always served
as extenuating circumstances with Mary Martin. She knew
the violence of her prejudices, the enormous amount of her
self-esteem, and the facility with which she was ever able to
persuade herself that whatever she wished to do assumed at
once all the imi^ortance and gravity of a duty ! This thorough
appreciation of her peculiarities enabled Mary to bear up
patiently under many sore trials, and some actual wrongs.
Where the occasion was a light one, she could afford to smile
at such trials, and, even in serious cases, they palliated the in-
justice; but here was an instance whex'ein all her forgiveness was
in vain. To take the moment of her poor uncle's illness — that
terrible seizure, which left him without self-guidance, if even a
will — to dictate these hai'd and humiliating terras, was a down-
right cruelty. Nor did it diminish the suffering which that
letter cost her that its harsh conditions seemed dictated by a
spirit of contempt for Ireland and its people. As Mary re-read
the letter, she felt that every line breathed this tone of depre-
ciation. It was to her ladyship a matter of less than indiffei'-
ence what became of the demesne, who inhabited the house —
the home of " the Martins " for centuries ! She was as little
concerned for the prestige of " the old family," as she was
interested for the sorrows of the people. If Mary endeavoured
to treat these things dispassionately to her own heart, by
dwelling upon all the points which affected others, still, her
own individual wrong would work to the surface, and the 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 fix them upon her poor uncle, on his sick bed, and
sorrowing as he was sure to be — to think of her cousin Harry,
struggling against the embarrassments of his own imprudence
■ — of the old housekeeper, Catty Broon, to whom she could not
summon courage to speak the cruel tidings of her changed lot
— but all — all in vain ; back she would come to the humiliation
that foreshadowed her own fortune, and threatened to depose
her from her station for ever.
Aii indignant appeal to her uncle — her own father's brother
— was her first resolve. " Let me learn," said she to herself,
" from his own lips, that such is the destiny he assigns me —
that, in return for my tried affection, my devotion, he has no
other recompense than to lower me in self-esteem and condition
together. Time enough, when assured of this, to decide upon
LADY DOROTHEAS LETTER. 509
what I shall do. But to whom shall I address this demaud ? "
thought she again. " That dear, 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 in Lady
Dorothea's suggestion, who knows in what light it may have
been presented to him — by what arguments strengthened —
with what perils contrasted? Is it impossible, too, that the
sacrifice may be imperative? The sale of part of the property
— tlie pressure of heavy claims — all show that it may be neces-
sary to dispose of Cro' J/artin. Oh ! " exclaimed she, in agonj-,
" it is but a year ago, that, when Mr. Repton hinted vaguely at
such a casualty, how stoutly and indignantly did I reject it!
'"Your uncle may choose to live abi-oad,' said he; 'to sell
the estate, perhaps.' And I heard him with almost scornful
defiance ; and now the hour is come ! and even yet I cannot
bring myself to believe it. When Repton drew the picture of
the tenantry, forsaken and neglected, the poor unnoticed, and
the sick uncared for, he still forgot to assign me my place in
the sad ' tableau,' and show that in destitution my 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
Martin 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 mei^e frag'ment remained — a few hundred
pounds at most. The outlay on hospitals, and medical assist-
ance 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 expenditure to the very
narrowest bounds, nor was it till driven by the utmost m'gency
that she wrote the appeal to her uncle of which the reader
already knows.
"How I once envied Kate Henderson," cried she, aloud, "the
brilliant accomplishments she possessed, the graceful charm
that her cultivation threw over society, and the fascination she
wielded, by acquirements of which I knew nothing; but how
much more now do I envy her, that in those same gifts her
independence was secui^ed — that, high above the chances of the
world, she could build upon lier own efforts, and never descend
to a condition of dependence ! "
Her diminished power amongst the people had been fully
510 THE MARTINS OP CRO' MARTIN,
compensated by the sincere love and affection she had won from
them by acts of charity and devotion. Even these, however,
owed much of their efficacy to the prestige of her station. No
peasant in Europe puts so high a value on the intercourse with
a rank above his own as does the Irish. The most pleasant
liattery to his natui^e is the notice of " the Gentleman," and it
was more than half the boon Mary bestowed upon the poor,
that she who sat down beside the bed, who 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 ! " If 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 con-
trast of the past with the 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 still — reduced 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, under heavier ones, not dismayed noi
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. Rally-
ing 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 ornamental cottage
on the demesne, known as the Chalet, built by Lady Dorothea
after one she had seen in the Oberland ; this Mary now deter-
mined on for her home, and there, with Catty Broon alone, she
resolved to live.
" My aunt," thought she, " can scarcely be so wedded to the
Henderson 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
LADY Dorothea's lettee. 511
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 proffer-
ing 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 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 him, I am unaltered."
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 unnecessary expense of maintaining a large house for
the accomodation of a single person, and said that if her lady,
ship concurred in the plan, she would prefer taking up her
home at the Chalet with old Catty for companion and house-
keeper.
She pointed out the advantages of a change which, while
securing a comfortable home to them, would equally suggest to
their dependents lessons of thrift and self-sacrifice, and added,
half sportively, " As for me, when I find myself en Sioisse, I'm
sure T shall less regret horses and dogs, and such like vanities,
and take to the delights of a dairy and ci'eam 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 bodic'.'
deep in the mystery of all cottage economics, and well confeut
to be so.
" You are quite right, my dear aunt," she continued, " not to
entertain me with politics. The theme is as much above as it
is distasteful to me; and so grovelling ai'e my sentiments, that
I'd ratlier hear of the arrival of a cargo of oatmeal at Kilkieran,
than learn that the profoundest 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
612 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
to turn out and canvass for him to-morrow, and that the hospital,
ities 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 ihe
events of our late assizes here — a task I escape from the more
willingly, since I have no successes to record. Mr. Repton,
however — he paid me a visit yesterday, and stopped here to
dinner — says that he 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 Mr. Nelligan, and who,
being employed for the other side, was the chief cause of our
failure. My uncle will be pleased to learn that 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. Repton called it ' a model of legal argu-
ment, 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 journals impossible, and that the young
barrister has acquired anything but popularity in consequence.
Even in this much, is there a dawn of better things ; and under
such circumstances a defeat may be more profitable than a
victory."
With a few kind messages to her uncle, and an earnest
entreaty for early tidings of his state, Mary concluded a letter
in which her great difficulty lay in saying far less than her
thoughts dictated, and conveying as much as she dare trust to
Lady Dorothea's intei'pretation. The letter concluded and
sealed, she lay down, dressed as she 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 which 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' Mai^tin Castle fell into other hands,
that her own career ceased, her occupation 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 suffice to engage one whose active mind had
LADY Dorothea's lettee. 513
hitberto embraced so wide a field of action, and Mary then
betbougbt her how tbis leisure might be devoted to stud}- 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 deeply over tbese thoughts, when suddenly they were in-
terinpted; but in what way deserves a chapter of its own —
albeit a very brief one.
U
514 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER XLVU.
MR. MERL'S experiences IN THE WEST.
"What card is this? — who left it?" said Mary, as sLe fcook
up one from her bi'eakfast-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
the castle.
" ' Mr. Herman Merl ' — a name I never heard of," muttered
Mary to herself. " 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. " At Oughterard before one ; a meeting of the
Loan Fund — I shall need some aid for my hosj^ital ; the Govern-
ment order for the meal to be countersigned by a justice — Mr.
Nelligan will do it. Then there's Taite's little boy to be bal-
loted for in the Orphan House; and Cassidy's son to be sent up
to Dublin. Poor fellow, he has a terriljle operation to go
through. And I shall need Priest RafFerty's name to this
memorial from the widows ; the Castle authorities 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 that sent the card, miss, is below stairs.
He is with Mr. Crow, at the hall-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.
MR. merl's experiences in the west. 515
" Good morning, Mr. Crow," said Maiy, m return for a
number of most courteous salutations, which he was performing
in a small semicircle in front of her. " Who is 3'our friend Mr.
— * Mr. Herman Merl ? ' " read she, taking up the card.
" A friend of your cousin's, Miss Mary — of the captain's.
He brought a letter from him ; but he gave it to Scaulau, 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 ex-
pected to receive guests. Besides, I have other things to attend
to. You must do the honours of Cro' Martin, Mr. Crow. Yoa
must entertain 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. Miss 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, beyond seeing him this week back at Kil-
kieran."
" Oh, I have heard of him, then," broke in Mai'y, " It is of
him the people tell me such stories of benevolence and good-
ness. 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 surprised 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 nofhing."
" 1 know nothing of what you allude to, Mr. Crow," said she,
half proudly; "it would ill become me to pry into my cousin's
affairs. At the same time, if the gentleman has no actual
business with me, I shall decline to receive him."
516 THE MA'VINS OF CRO MARTIN,
" He says he has, miss," reph'ed Crow. " He says that ho
wants to speak to you about a letter he got by yesterday's post
from the cap t a hi."
Mary heard this aBnouncemeiit 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 unmeaning compliments of a new acquaintance.
Shall we dare to insinuate, what after all is a mere suspicion
on our part, that a casual glance at her pale cheeks, sunken
eyes, and careworn features, had some share in the 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 unlikely
circumstance, anything confidential to communicate, this gentle-
man may write it." And with this she left the room, leaving
poor Mr. Crow in a state of considerable embarrassment.
Resolving 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 Merl.
"I trust not. I leather 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 affair."
" 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 paper, Mr. Crow, without well
knowing 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
specimens of the Dutch masters here?" asked Crow, anxious
to change the topic.
" Ay, with all my heart. I suppose I must accept this privi-
lege as my experience of the much-boasted Irish hospitality,"
said he, with a sneei', which required all Crow's self-control to
resist answering. To master the temptation, and give himself
a few moments' repose, he went about opening windows and
MR. MEEL'S BXPEEIENCES U THE WEST, 517
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 landscajDe, " 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. "That picture was painted
by AVoeffel, and I'll show you his initials, too, A. W., before we
leave it."
" It came from the Dordrecht gallei'y, and is an undoubted
Both ! " exclaimed Crow, angrily.
" I saw it there myself, and in very suitable company, too,
with a Snyders on one side and a Rubens on t'other, the Snyders
being a Faltk, and the Rubens a Metziger; the whole three
being positively dear at twenty pounds. Ay, here it is," con-
tinued he, pointing to the hollow trunk of a decayed tree;
"there's the initials. So much for your original by Both.
" I hope you'll allow 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 I see it is by Jansens- —
and a clever copj", 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 Hohen 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, sir? That's a bit of Van-
dyke's own. It was one of the hundred 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
thera. colours."
" You call this a Salvator Rosa, 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 sufficient to have blended lights, rugged
foregrounds, and plenty of action to make a Salvator ; but let
me tell you, sir ; that it's not even a coj^y of him. It is a bad
— ay, and a very bad — Haemlens — an Antwerp fellow that
lived by poor fac-similes."
518 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN.
" Oh dear, oh dear ! " cried Crow, despau-ing-ly. " Did I ever
hear the like of this ! "
"Are these your best things, Mr. Crow?" said Merl, survcj'-
ing 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," said he, with a grin. " Thei'e's not a
man in Europe can detect a copy from the original sooner than
him before you. Now seven out of every eight of these here
are veritable ' croutes ' — what we call ' croiites,' sir — things
sold at Christie's, and sent off to the continent to be hung up
in old Chateaux in Flanders, or dilapidated villas in Italy,
whei'e 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
undertake to furnish you with a gallery, in every respect the
duplicate 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 ? "
" Tell 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 individual 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
wideawake 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 fisheries, was not pretty much the same sox't of
thing as this here gallery ? "
" How ? What do you mean ? " asked Crow, whose temper
was barely, and with some diflBculty, 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 counter-
feit."
-fel^;F3Shf
/fv///'<//, y/ZiM^^/?7J'
wyM,
Z^d
MR. MEEl'S experiences IN THE WEST. 519
"Look here, sir," said Crow, rising, and approaching- the
other with a face of angry indignation, " for anght I know, j^ou
may be right about these pictures. The chances ai-e 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 dis-
respect — if you as much as hint at "
What 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.
" 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 pointed to an
assemblage of about a hundred people, many of whom were
rudely armed with stakes, gathered around the chief entrance
of the Castle. La the midst was a tall man, mounted upon a
wretched horse, who seemed from his gestures to be haranguing
the mob, and whom Crow speedily recognised to be Magennis of
Bai'nagheela.
"What does all this mean? " asked he, in astonishment.
" 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 concealed here, they have
dared to disbelieve me, and declare they will see for themselves.
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 ap-
proaching the lower windows. Take a horse, Mr. Crow, and
ride for Kiltimmon; there is a police-station there — bring up
the force with you — lose no time, I entreat you."
" But how — leave you here all alone ? "
"Have no fears on that score, sir," said she, proudly; "they
may insult the roof that shelters me, to myself, they will ofier
no outrage. But be quick ; away at once, and with speed."
Had Mr. Crow been, what it must be owned had been difficult,
a worse horseman than be was, he would never have hesitated
520 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
to obey this behest. Ere many minutes, therefore, he was in
the saddle and flying across country at a pace such as he never
imag'ined 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 down two splendidly-ornamented pistols from above
the chimneypiece, 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 awa3^
Stepping back in astonishment, and with a face pale as death,
he exclaimed, " Is it Miss Martin ? "
" Yes, sir," replied she, firmly ; " and your name ? "
"Mr. Merl — Herman Merl," said he, with a stealthy glance
towards the windows, on the outside of which two fellows were
now seated, communicating with those below.
" This is not a moment for much ceremony, sir," said she,
promptly ; " but you are here opportunel3\ 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 will search the house, and I as firmly declare
they shall not."
" But the person is really not here? " broke in Merl.
" I have said so, sir," rejoined she, haughtily.
"Then why not let them search? Egad, I'd say, look
away to your heart's content, pi-y 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 the false step. To one who proffers such wise
advice, arguments 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 steadilj
aiming her weapon for a second or two, she sent a ball through
the window, 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 Merl — "now, sir, you
will perceive that you have got into very indiscreet company,
ME. M£EL S EXrERIENCES IN THE WEST, 521
sucli as I'm sure Captain Martin's letter nevei' prepared yon
for; and although it is not exactl}' in accordance with the
usual notions of Irish hospitality to point to the door, perhaps
you will be grateful to me when I say that you can escape by
tliat corridor. It leads to a stair which will conduct you to the
stable-yard. I'll order a saddle-horse for 3-ou. I suppose you
ride? " And really 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 Mageunis, 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 foi'ce."
" Well, sir, force has done it," said she, taking a scat as she
spoke. "I am here alone, and you may be proud of the
achievement ! " The glance she directed towards Merl 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, ui a tone of much subdued mean-
ing
" No, sir," broke she in — " no, sir, I'll give no such order.
You 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 j^lighted
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 j'ou, 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 devotion by wdiich
I have squandered all that I possessed, and would have given
my life, too, for you and yours? Is it thus, think you, that
522 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
your mothers, and wives, and sisters, would requite me? Ch
will they welcome you back from your day's work, and say,
Bravely done ? Yon 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 hei'-
self, 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, while 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 ab-
sorbed 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,
leading his horse by the bridle, and following the others, with
bent-down head and sorrowful mien.
"Oh, thank Heaven for this! " cried she, passionately as the
tears gushed out and coursed down her face. " Thank Heaven
that they ai'e not as others call them — cold-hearted and
treacherous, craven in their hour of trial, and cruel in the day
of their vengeance ! I knew them better ! " It was long
before she could sufficiently subdue her emotion to think calmly
of what had occurred. At last she bethought her of Mr. Merl,
and despatched 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 ?2is head if he ever passed another day in Gal way.
MK. MERLS '"LAST IRISH IMPRESSIOX.
CHAPTER XLVIir.
ME. MERL's "last" IRISH IMPRESSION.
Never once turning his head towards Cro' Martin, Mr. Merl
set out for Oughterard, where, weary and footsore, he arrived
that same evening. His first care was to take some refresh-
ment, his next to order horses for Dublin early for the following
morning. This done, he sat down to write to Captain Martin,
to convey to him what Merl designated as a " piece of his mind,"
a phrase which in popular currency is always vmderstood to
imply the very reverse of any flattery. The truth was, Mr.
Merl began to suspect that his Irish liens were a very bad in-
vestment, that property in that country was held under some-
thing like a double title — the one conferr'~,d by law, the other
maintained by a resolute spirit and a stout heart; that parch-
ments 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
rendered possession perilous, they made sale almost impossible.
In the cant phrase of Ceylon, the captain had sold him a wild
elephant; or, to speak less figuratively, disposed of what he
well knew the purchaser could never avail himself of. If Mr.
Merl was an emblem of blandness 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 irregularities 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
acn's natural temperament which was eminently distrustful
52i THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
and snsi^icious, wary to detect a blot, prompt and sharp to hit
it. A vague, undefined impression had now come over him that
the captain had overreached 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 bis
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! You might as well convey to
to me by bill of sale the right over a drove of wild bufialoes iu
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
i-acy 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. "Your cousin," said he — "your cousin,
whom, by the way, I only saw for a few minutes, seemed ad-
mirably adapted to the exigencies of the social state ai'ound her ;
and although ball practice has not been included amongst the
ordinary items of j'oung 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,"
continned 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 your proposal of my taking up
my residence at Cro' Martin. The social elevation, and so
forth, to ensue from such a course of proceeding 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 instruc-
tions to meet me at Wimpole's, and state what terms of liquida-
tion he is prepared to offer. Suffice it for the present to say,
that I decline any arrangement which should transfer to me
V
' < 5 ^%\
¥B. MERL's "last" IRISH MPRESSION. 525
any portion of the estate. I declare to you, frankly, I'd not
accept the whole of it on the condition of retaining the pro-
prietorship."
When Mr. Merl had just penned the last sentence, the door
slowly and cautiously was opened behind him, and a very much
carbuncled face protruded into the room. " Yes, that's him-
self," muttered a voice, and ere Merl had been able to detect
the speaker, the door was closed. These casual interruptions
to his privacy had so frequently occurred since the commence-
ment of his tour, that he only included them amongst his other
Irish " disagreeables ; " and so he was preparing to enter on
another paragraph when a very decisive knock at the door
startled him, and before he could say " Come in," a tall, red-
faced, vulgai'-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 Brierley," said he, with a full, rich brogue
" Bi'ierley — 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 seat-
ing himself, and crossing his arms on his breast. " I have
come here on the part of my friend Tom — Mr. Mageunis, 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 jon should," continued Brierley.
"Tom told me that joxi were present at Cro' Martin when he
was outraged and insulted — by a female, of course, or he
wouldn't be making- a complaint of it now — and as he is not
the man that ever lay under a thing of the kind, or ever will,
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
terror.
" Baythershin ! how dull we are," said Mr. Brierley, with a
finger to his 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 mean-
ing."
" Be cool honey — keep yourself cool. Without you happen
to find that warmth raises your heart, I'd say again, be cool.
526 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIK.
I've one simple question to ask you" — here he dropped hia
voice to a low, cautious whisper — " Will ye blaze? "
" Will I what ? " cried Merl.
Mr. Brierley aroso, and drawing himself up to his full height,
extended his arm in the attitude of one taking aim with a
pistol. " Eh ! " cried he, " you comprehend me uow, don't
you?"
" Fight — fight a duel ! " exclaimed Merl, aloud.
" Whisht ! whisht ! speak lower," said Brierley ; " there's
maybe, a chap listening at the door this minute! "
Accepting the intimation in a very different spirit from that
in which it was offered, 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 dirty napkins in dirtier hands,
surrounded him.
"What is it, your houer? — what is it?" asked they, in a
breath.
"Don't you hear what 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 Jupher! that I am," said Merl, wiping the per-
spiration 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 de-
nunciation.
In less than half-an-hour afterwards a yellow post-chaise left
the " MarLin Arms " at full speed, a wild j'ell of insult and de-
lision greeting it as it svrept by, showing how the Oughterard
public appreciated its inmate !
SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLIRTATION. 527
CHAPTER XLIX.
SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLIRTAnOlf.
Most travelled reader, have you ever stood upon the plateau
at tbe foot of the Alten-Scliloss 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 land-
scape, where every feature is bold, and throughout which light
and shade alternate in broad, effective masses, showing that yon
are gazing on a scene of great extent, and taking in miles of
country with your eye. It is essentially 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 wagons slowly
toiling through the narrow lanes, orer 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 stirried him. The clasped hands and
slightly bent-down head gave a character of patient, unresisting
meaning to his figure, which the few words he dropped from
time to time seemed to confirm.
At a little distance off, and on the very verge of the cliff, Kate
Henderson was seated sketching, and laehind her, occasionally
turning to walk up and down the terraced space, was Massing-
bred, once more in full health, and bearing in appearance the
528 THE MARTINS OF CRO" MARTIN.
signs of his old, impatient humour. Throwing away his half-
smoked cigar, and with a face whose 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, " You see,
it's very nearly finished."
"Well, and what then?" asked he, bluntly.
*' Do you forget that I gave you until that time to change
your opinion? that when I was shadowing in this foreg'round 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 yov^ seem to do
them."
" Light another cigar, and sit down here beside me — I don't
dislike 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
command, and sat down on the cliS" 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 indeed."
"Where do you find fault with it? There must be a fault, or
your criticism is worth nothing*."
" It's 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 recal your
farewell 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 supposing 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 tii'ed of the
theme that has myself alone for its object."
" Of whom would you speak, then ? " said she, sstill intently
busied with her drawinof.
SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLIRTATION, 529
"You ask me -when you know well of whom," said he,
hurriedly. "Nay, no menaces; I could not if I would be
silent. It is impossible 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.
" T confess I do envy that tranquil spirit of yours," said he,
bitterly. " It is such a triumph to be calm, cold, and impassive
at a moment when 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 indulged in illusions which seem to
have a charm for ijou. You say yoiT want explicitness. You
shall have it. There was one condition on which I offered 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 discovered your feelings for me
went farther; that mere friendship, as you phrased it, would
not suffice "
" I told you, rather," broke he in, " that I wished to put that
feeling to the last test, by linking your fortune with my own for
ever."
"Very well, I accept that version. You offei-ed 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 necessity of an explanation painful to both of us.
For a while you consented, now, you seem impatient at your
concession, and ask me to resume the subject. Be it so — but for
the last time."
i\Iassingbred'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 stewai'd's daughtoi — the governess! would be received,
35
530 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
invited, visited, and the rest of it ; and so far as t/cu were
concerned, the triumph would be complete. Now, however,
tarn 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 find my friendships
— where even discover my duties ? You only know of one kind
of pride, that of station and social eminence. I can tell j'ou
there is another, loftier far — the consciousness that no inequality
of position can obliterate what 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 consistent, for I am
prouder in the independence of my present dependence than I
should be in all the state of Mi-. Massingbred's wife. You can
see, therefore, that I could not accept this change as the great
elevation you would deem it. You would 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 the
condition of most marriages. The rank of one compensates
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 compact would be
impossible, since yoic would endow me with what has no value
in my eyes, and I, 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 your 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 besetting sin is not of self-growth, for it
comes of the slavish adulation 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. Tiiey who ofier up this incense are in
my eyes far more despicable than they who accept the sacrifice;
SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLIRTATION. 531
but T would not cast my lot with either. Do not smile, sir,
as if these were high-flown sentiments ; they are the veriest
commonplaces of one who loves commonplace, who neither
seeks affections with coronets nor friendships in gold coaches,
but who would still less be of that herd — mute, astonished, and
awe-struck — who worship them ! "
" You deem me, then, deficient in this same independence of
spirit r " cried Massingbred, half indignantly,
" I certainly do not accept your intention of marrying beneath
you as a 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.
" Still," cried he, passionately, " I am not 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. You read my faults, you see my
short-comings clearly enough, be equally just, then, to anything
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 the 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 afford 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
preteusions ainuses you, and it is all the better for both of us if
we can treat these things jestingly."
"Nay, Kate, you are unfair — unjust" broke in Massing,
bred.
532 THE MAEXraS OF CKO' MARTIN.
" Mr. Martin begins to feel it cliilly, Miss Henderson,"
said a servant 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 fresh, sir, almost cold," said she.
"Yes, dear, the climate is not what it used to be. We have
cut down too many of those trees, Molly, yonder." And he
pointed with his thin fingers towards the Rhine. "We have
thinned the wood overmuch, but they'll grow again, dear, though
I shall not be here to see them."
" He thinks I am his niece," whispei'ed 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 ; one 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 along his cheeks, and his pale lips quivered
with emotion. Now, speaking in a low, weak voice to himself,
now, sighing heavily as though in deep depression, he was
borne along towards the hotel. Nor did the gay and noisy
groups which thronged the thoroughfares arouse him. He
saw them, but seemed not to heed them. His dreary gaze
wandered over the brilliant panorama without interest or
speculation. 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 off 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 recollection, he hastily retreated within the
group.
" You are right," muttered he to one near him, " he in *boo"ired /
my bond will come due before the month ends."
SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLffiTATION. 533
" And yCTi'U 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 ? "
"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 slowly 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 ? "
" I have an engagement this evening."
"Put it off, 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 have shown them how cavalierly he
could treat a rising statesman and a young Parliamentary star
of the first order ; but the question crossed hiiLi, 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 with 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
53-1 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
friends, just befoi'e 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 ia
their company, and so we leave theca.
LADY DOROTHEA. 535
CHAPTER L.
LADY DOnOTHEA.
The Cour de Bade, at which excellent hotel the Mavtins were
installed, received on the day we have just chronicled a new
arrival. He had come by the dilligence, one of that un-
distinguishable ten thousand England sends oflF 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
delightful ambiguity as to the precise geography of where
he stood, he succeeded, after some few failures, in finding
out where the Martins stopped, and had now sent up his
name to Lady Dorothea, that name being "Mr. Maurice
Scanlan."
Lady Dorothea Martin had g'ven positive orders that except
in the particular case of this individual she was not to be in-
terrupted 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 waa
thickly covered with parchments, papers, documents, 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 recklessly to meet
the awful total at the bottom! Ten-ified by the menacing
applications addi'essed to Mr. Martin on bis son's account, and
636 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
which arrived by every post, Lady Dorothea had resolved
upon herself entering upon the whole state of the cajjtain's
liabilities, as well as the complicated questions of the property
generally.
Distrust of her own powers was not in the number of her
ladyship's defects. Sufficiently affluent to be always able to
surround herself 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 accomplishments 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 dislike, 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 embarrassments — to dive into the wearisome
narrative of money-borrowing, bill-renewing, and the rest of it,
by one whom he had scarcely knovrn or seen — his manner and
bearing could not possibly 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 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 she, 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 Rawkios buys up some
LADY DOROTHEA. 63'/
of the things you had given renewals 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 diiFerent
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 Doro-
thea, haughtily.
" Simply enough. I was poring over these confounded
accounts one day at Manheim, and I chanced to ask her a
question — something 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,
where 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. What of Miss Hender-
son ? " 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 I stood to win on
either event, and came off 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 she had glanced at it, she said, ' This
is all full of blunders. You have left yourself open to three
casualties, any one of which will sweep away all your winnings.
Take the odds on Roehampton, 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 ano-
ther 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 You haven't skill to
make what is called a "good book," and you'll always be a
sufferer.' "
538 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" 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, 'Would not she afford me a little aid? '
she quickly said, ' Not on any account. Tou are now in a diffi-
culty, and I willingly come forward to extricate you. Far
different were the case should I conspire with you to place
others in a similar 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 Bie t'other morning about idleness
and the rest of it, saying how I ought to study Hindostanee, and
get a staff appointment, 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 her,' and so on."
" Did it never occur to you all this while," began her lady-
ship ; and then suddenly correcting herself, she stopped short,
and said, " By the way, Mr. Scanlan is waiting for his answer.
Ring the bell, and let him come in."
Perhaps it was the imperfect recollection of that eminent
individual — perhaps the altered circumstances in which she
now saw him, and possibly some actual changes in the man
himself — but really Lady Dorothea almost started with surprise
as he entered the room, 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 he 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 im-
pressed him, and how instantaneously his nature had imbibed
the vulgar ease of the " continent."
LADY DOROTHEA. 539
"You have jusfc arrived, Mr. Scanlan?" said her ladyship,
haughtily, and not a little provoked at the shake-hand saluta-
tion 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
indifference as to the casualty.
" Tuesday fortnight last, ray lady. I was detained two days
in Dublin making searches "
" Have you br-ought us any letters, sir ? "
" One from Miss Mary, my lady, and another from Mr.
Repton — very pressing he said it was. I hope Mr. Martin is
better? Your ladyship's last **
"Not much improvement," said she, stiffly, while her thin
lips were compressed with an expression that might mean
pride, or sorrow, or both,
" And the country, sir ? How did you leave it looking ? "
" Pretty well, ray 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 she, sharply.
" Indeed, I hope so, my lady. Some, of course, will be back-
wai'd, 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 raismanagement in that
business, sir," broke in her ladyship. " Had I been at home, I
promise you the matter would have ended diffei-ently."
"Mr. Repton 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 "
" 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 bar-
barism we were obliged to submit to. No intercourse with the
world — no society — very frequently 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
540 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
upon. Give me your letters, sir, and let me see you tins even-
ing." And taking the papers from his hand, she swept out of
the I'oom 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 ladyship to the door,
turned and rested on the captain, the other gave a brief short
nod of assent, as though to say : " Yes, you are right ; she's
just the same as ever."
" And you, captain," said Scanlan, in his tone of natural
familiarity, " how is the world treating yoii, ? "
'• 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 thousand 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 Maurice, 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.
" Raise 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 your eighty thousand as sure as I'm here! And then
matrimony admits of a man's changing' all his habits. He
can sell off hunters, get rid of a racing stable, and twenty
other little embarrassments, and only gain character by the
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
LAD^ DOROTHEA. 541
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 pumping
a well dry, isn't there ? "
Scanlan made a sodden 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 he 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; he never deceived me,
talking about snipe and woodcocks, and pretending to care
about hare-hunting. 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 thi'ough like myself"
" How do you mean ? " cried Martin, hurriedly.
" Sure, when he was down in the West, 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 him 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 quai^el on him."
"Be'fZ not fight you!" said Martin, turning away in dis-
appointment.
" Maybe he wouldn't ; but mightn't he 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 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!"
542 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"These cockney gents ai'e more 'wide avyako' than you
susjDect, Master Maurice, and the chances are, that he never
carried a single paper or parchment along with him,"
"Worse for him, then," 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 cai'ried off from that ; and, moreover,
there was your own name, and the date of the vei'y 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 \ipon less than half-pay ! ' "
A terrible oath, uttei-ed in all the vehemence of a malediction,
burst from Martin, and seizing Scanlau'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, savag'ely.
"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 Rhine along with me ; but he never
recognised me — on account of my moustaches perhaps — he
took me for a Frenchman or a German, I think. We parted at
Mayeuce, 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
beaviiy behind him.-
EOW PltlDE MEETS IRIDE. -513
CHAPTER LI.
HOW PRIDE MEETS PEIDE.
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. Enough,
if we say it was in reply to one of her own, requesting per-
mission to return home, until, as she 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 — des-
cend to companionship ! They who hire us," cried she, rising,
and pacing the room in slow and measured tread, *' have a
right to our capacitj^ 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 affections — we cannot 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 there is no such servitude as that which drags out
544 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 ai'e not to wear
a livery; but what livery exacts such degradation as this?"
And she shook the rich folds of her heavy silk dress as she
spoke. The tears rose up and dimmed her eyes, but they were
tears of offended pride, and as they stole slowly along her
cheeks, her features acquired an expression of intense haughti-
ness. " They who train their children to this career are but
sorry calculators ! — educating 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," resumed 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."
" You 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
coldness.
" 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 under-
stand you ? "
"You shall have little to complain of on that score. Miss
Henderson ; I shall not speak in riddles, depend upon it. Nor
\
4\
HOW PEIDE MEETS PEIDE. 545
sTionld that be an obstacle if your intellig-ence were only the
equal of j'our ambition."
"Now indeed is your lad3'ship completely beyond me."
"Had you felt that I was as much ' above" you, Miss Hender-
son, it were more to the purpose."
" I sincerely hope that I have never forg'otten 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 they wei'e addressed ; nay, this very
humility seemed to irritate and jorovoke her to a greater show
of temper, as with 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 ]s 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 in-
clination of her head. It might mean assent, submission, any-
thing.
"You 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 j'ou 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 was a perfect marvel to me how
you ever found time to store your mind with such varied
information; and yet, notwithstanding that imposing array
of accomplishments, I now find that your modesty — per-
haps 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 Doro-
thea, sneeringly, " but I mean to be most explicit. Have you
any recollection of the cii'cumstance I allude to? "
" I remember perfectly the day, madam, I waited on you for
the 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 con*
36
54'l THE MARTINS Of CRO' MARTIN,
siderable inipression 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
accustomed to in the family of the Duchesse de Luygnes, and
which your ladyship characterized by an epithet I have nevp-
forgotten. At the time I thought it severe ; I have learned to
see it just. You called it an 'irreparable mischief.' Your
ladyship said most truly."
" I was never more convinced of the fact than at this very
moment," said Lady Dorothea, as a flush of anger covered her
cheek. "The ill-judging condescension of your first protectors
has left a very troublesome legacy for their successors. Your
youth and inexperience — I do not desire to attribute it to any-
thing more reprehensible — 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
jj 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 conviction 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 unpleasant,
ness of my present task." Her passion was now fully roused,
and with redoubled energy she continued : " Your 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 aflect any
misconception of my meaning. My son has told me everything
— everything — from your invaluable aid to him in his pecuniary
difficulties, to your sage counsels on his belting-book ; from the
admirable advice you gave him as to his studies, to the dis-
interested offer of your own tuition. Be assured if he has not
understood all the advantages so generously presented to him,
I at least appreciate them fully. I must acknowledge you have
played your game cleverly, and you have made the mock inde-
pendence 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, frcm
HOW PRIDE MEETS FRIDB. 547
any devotion to my own person. I flatter myself, at least, that
I have so much of humility."
"If I uuderstand 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. What, then, can I adduce? I'm sure your
ladj-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 acquittal from the lips of Captain Martin himself;
humble as I stand here, my lady, you never could mean to
expose me to this humiliation." For the first time did her
voice falter, and a sickly paleness came over her as she uttered
tbe 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 \o\iy ladj'ship is angry with me
that 3'ou 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 lad}'. I am to send you back to
your father's house as one whose presence here was too danger-
ous — 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 bsreaved
of the object of his affections. But all this is much too digni-
fied for me. My son shall be taught to respect 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.
548 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" This agitation is not without a cause, and would alone
decide me to call foi* my son."
"If I have ever deserved well at your hands, my lady — if 1
have served you faithfully in anything- — if my devotion has
lightened you of one care, or aided you through one difficulty —
spare me, oh spare me, I beseech you, this — degradation ! "
" I liave a higher consideration to consult here, Miss Hen-
derson, 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."
" Your ladyship is full of consideration ! " said Kate, bitterly.
" For a moment I had thought it was only an additional humi-
liation to wdiich 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, and she
motioned to a chair.
"I trust the seance is to be a brief one, otherwise I'll beg a
postponement," said he, half laughingly. Then turning his
glance towards 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 ssttt with
HOW PEIDE MEETS PRIDE. 549
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 ms. Nor shall it, till it be made in your presence and
meet with your corroboration. Your looks, Miss Henderson,"
said she, addressing her, " would imply that all the suffering of
the present moment falls to your share ; but I would beg you
to bear in mind what a person in my sphere must endure at the
bare possibility of the event which now demands investigation."
" Good heavens! will not you tell me what it is? " exclaimed
Martin, in the last extremity of impatience.
"I have sent for you, sir," resumed she, "that you should
hear Miss Henderson declare tbat no attentions on your part —
DO assiduities, I should pei'haps call them — have ever been
addressed to her; that, in fact" — here her ladyship became
embarrassed in her explanation — " that, in fact, those counsels
— 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 pei'haps 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 1 "
"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 dai'e to reply to. " I," 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 1 " said he, more
distracted than ever. " If you are alluding to the offer I made
you- "
"The offer you made," cried Lady Dorothea. "When? —
bow — ? in what wise ? "
" No, no — I will speak out," said he, addressing Kate. " I
am certain yoio never divulged it — but I cannot accept that all
the honourable dealing should be on one side onl}'. Yes, my
lady, however 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'a
550 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
not," muttered he to Kate. But slie motioned him in silence to
the door, and then opening the window, that the fresh 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 Hendei'son.
" You have had your triumph ! " said she, in a low but firm
voice.
"I do not feel it such, madam," said Kate, calmly. "Nor
is it in a moment of humiliation 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 has occurred here
should never be mentioned."
"You may trust me, madam."
"I feel that I may. There — I am better — quite well, now!
You may leave me." Kate curtseyed deeply, and moved towards
the dooi", " One word before you go. Will 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 ? "
" For the same good reason, madam, that should have pre-
vented 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 stimulating her to projects of passionate vengeance,
at the next suggesting 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.
HOW PRIDE MEETS PRIDE. ^$\
" She miglit be a duchess ! " was the only speech she uttered,
Sind the words 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 whicla
most resemble our own are those we alone attach importance
to, and what we fancy admiration of another is Tery often
nothing more than the gratified contemplation of ourselves.
55*2 THE MARTINS OP CRO* MAETIH.
CHAPTER LII.
MAURICE SCANLAN ADVISES WITH " HIS COUNSEL."
Jack Massingbred sat in expectation of Mi*. Mei-l's arrival till
aigli ten o'clock, and if not manifesting any great degree of
imj^atience at the delay, still showing unmistakable signs of
uneasiness, as though 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. ]\Ierl from keeping his appointment. " I shall be
in town by Tuesday," continued the writer, " and if Captain
Martin has any communication to make to me respecting his
affairs, let it be addressed to Messrs. Twining and Scape's,
solicitors, Fornival's Inn. I hope that with regai'd 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,
" Herman Merl."
" Negotiations have ended ere they were opened, and war is
proclaimed at once," said Massingbred, as he read over this
brief epistle. "You may come forth, Master Scanlan," added
he, opening the 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,
ami he is resolved not to be caught."
MAUEICE SCANLAN ADVISES WITH HIS COUXSEL. " 553
"Precisely; he'll do nothing without advice. Well, well,
he but knew how 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."
" Has Captain Martin not put you in possession of the whole
case, then? "
" Why, my good Scanlan, the captain kuows nothing — actually
nothing, of his difficulties. He has, it is true, a perfect convic
tion that he is out of his depth, but whether he be in five fathom
water or fifty he doesn't know; and, what'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 Massing-
bred, 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 sight of
land " He stopped, gazed steadily at Scanlan for a few
seconds, and tlien 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, he left there a
little pocket-book, with memorandums of all his secret trans-
actions. Mighty nice doings the}' 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
654! THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
were my friend — which I assure you he is not — 1 could not
venture to betray you"
" 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? "
" 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 scro
you'll not refuse it: if you should think, on reflection, that
what I propose to you this evening is neither practicable no<
advisable — that, in fact, you could neither concur in it nor aid x%
— 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 pi'omise."
" That will do. I don't ask a word more. Now, Mr. 1/Ias.J-
ingbred," said he, replacing the book on the table, " I'll tell yo.-i
in the fewest words I can how the case stands — and brevity 13
essential, for we have not an hour to lose. Merl is gone to
London about this business, 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. Read 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
MAURICE SCANLAN ADVISES WITH "HIS COU^'SEL." 555
Scanlan. "You are pledged to say nothing- of this, if you
cannot persuade yourself to act along- with me in it."
" Very true," said Massing-bred, slowly ; '• but I never pledged
myself to credit an impossibility."
"I ask nothing of the kind. I only claim that you should
adhere to what yon have said already. If this statement be
untrue, all my 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 ia
full — however the Jew boy got hold of it — and here's mention
of a blessed hundred pound note, which, in less th-^in five years,
has grown to upwards of a thousand ! "
"And all true? All fact?"
"Perfectly true — most lamentable fact! Master Scanlan.
How precise the scoundrel is in recording this loan as " after
supper at Dnbos'.' Ay, and here again is my unlucky wager
about Martingale for the ' Chester,' and the handicap with
Armytiige. Scanlan, I recant my rash impression. This is a
real work of its great author ! Aut Merl — aitt Diabolus."
" I could have sworn it," said Scanlan.
"To be sure you could, man, and have done, 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
should live such a consummate fool in the world as would sell
his whole reversionary 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 inherit*
656 THE MARTINS OF €R0' MARTIN.
auce, that lie 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 that, at length, this same twenty-two
thousand, assumed as paid for the revei'sion, v;as in reality
but the 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 this 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. " Wonder-
ful people ye are, to be sure; and whether in your talent for
savings, or dislike for sausages, alike admirable and praise-
worthy ! What a strange circle do events observe, and how
irrevocable is the law of the material, the stern rule of the
moral world, decay, decomposition, and regeneration 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 Massing,
bred, 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 i^ockets 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 have little time
MAUEICE SCANLAN ADVISES WITH " HIS COUNSEL." 557
to look out for expedients. Mag-ennis will put us on our title at
the new trial next assizes. Merl will take fright at the in-
security 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 up new complications," cried
Massingbred, "Have you anything to suggest? What ought
to be done here ? "
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 resoui'ce in store against all these perils ! Out with it,
man."
" Have I any need to remind you of your promise, Mr. Mass-
ingbred?" 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
Mei'l. 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 bi'ing with it,
he's not likely to be hard to deal with, particularly when we
are in possession, as I suppose we may be, through Tjour in-
timacy with the captain, of all the secret history of these
transactions. I take it for granted that he'll be as glad of a
settlement 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
concurrence ? "
"I wish that was the only diflSculty," said Scanlan.
" What 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 hundi'ed 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
558 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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
consideration."
"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."
" Every acre of it."
" You know how you'd like your advance to be secui'ed to you
• — on what part of the estate. The conditions, I am certain,
might be fairly left in your own hands; I feel assui-ed you'd not
ask nor expect anything beyond what was equitable and just."
" Mr. Massingbred, we might talk this way a twelvemonth,
and never be a bit nearer our object than when we began," said
Scanlan, 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 Repton 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 Scanlan, growing very red —
" the other, I suppose, will be made the great difficulty — ^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 throw-
ino- 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 she hasn't a place to address them to
— not to say that the way they're 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
weren't Pride itself, it's glad they might be that a — a — a
respectable man, that is sure to be devoted to their own in-
terests for ever, and one that knows the estate well, and, more-
over than that, that doesn't want to be going over to London —
no, nor even to Dublin — that doesn't care a brass farthing for
MAURICE SCANLAN ADVISES WITH " HIS COUNSEL." 559
the castle and the lodge in the park — that, in short, Mr. Mass-
ingbred, asks nothing for anybody, but is willing to trust to his
industry and what he knows 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 offer, 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 Scanlan sat down at the table,
and crossed his arms on his breast like one prepared to await
his verdict with a stout heart.
At last, and with the start of one who suddenly bethought
him of a pi'ecaution 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 lady, and say, ' I want to marry your
niece,' I think I know what the answer would be."
Although Massingbred had followed this rambling and inco-
herent effort at explanation with considerable attention, it was
only by the very concluding words that he was quite certain of
having comprehended its meaning. If we acknowledge that
he felt almost astounded by the 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 conclusion did ensue, he
sat ]mtiently 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 suf-
fered 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 demeanour.
" 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 kind, my dear Scanlan," said Jack, smiling
blandly. "Whatever snobbery once used to prevail on these
subjects, we have come to live in a more generous age. The
5 GO THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
man of character, tho man who unites an untarnished reputa-
tion to very considerable abilities, with talent to win any station,
and virtues to adorn it, such a man wants no blazonry to illus-
trate his name, and it is mainly by such accessions that our
English aristocracy, refreshed and invigorated as it is, preserves
its great acknowledged superiority."
It would have required a more acute critic than Maurice
Scanlan to have detected the spirit in which this rhapsod}' was
uttered. The apparent earnestness of the manner did not
exactly consort with a certain ])omposity of enunciati<m and an
over-exactness in the tone of the declamation. On the whole,
Maurice did not like it. It smacked to his ears very like what
he had often listened to in the Four Courts at the close of a
"junior's" address; and there was a Nisi Prius jingde in it that
sounded marvellously unlike conviction.
"If, then," resumed Massingbred, " they who by the accidents
of fortune, or the meritorious services of their forefathers, re-
present 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 ai'e 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, possi-
bility, and with these two conditions before j'^ou, you reject the
fifty extraneous considerations, outlying contingencies, that dis-
tract and embarrass such fellows as me."
" I have no pretension to abilities like yours, Mr. Massing,
bred," said Scanlan, with nnassumed modesty.
"Ah, Scanlan, yours are the true gifts, take my word for it!
— the recognised currency by which a man obtains Avhat he
seeks for ; and there never was an era in which such qualities
bore a higher 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 Fact! ' "
If one were to judge from Maurice Scanlan's face during the
delivery of this peroration, it might be possibly inferred that
MAUEICE SCANLAN ADVISES WTTH " HIS COUNSEL," 561
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 under the impression that I achieved a
great success ? "
"Well, I did hear 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 k?gin to suspect they have
got a talkative fellow, eager and ready to speak on every ques-
tion ; they dread that, and even if he be clever they'll vote him
a bore ! "
" Faith ! I don't wonder at it ! " said Maurice, with a hearty
sincerity 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 ? You 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 ransacking 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 denounce, 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.
" You 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 what-
ever 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 this 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 sin*
37
562 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
cerity 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 farrow 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.
A CONSULTATIOH 563
CHAPTER LIII.
A CONSULTATION.
Jack Massingbeed was one of those who, in questions of
difficulty, resort to the pen in preference to personal inter-
ference. 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 occasion another motive had also its
influence. It was Lady Dorothea that he addressed, and he bad
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 considerable service, but to accept
Maurice Scanlan as a near member of one's family seemed a
very heavy price even for that. Still, if the young lady liked
him, singular as the choice might appear, other objections need
not be insurmountable. The Martins were very unlikely ever
to make Ireland their residence again, they would see little or
nothing of this same Scanlan connection, "and, after all,"
thought Jack, " if we can only keep the disagreeables of this
life away from daily intercourse, only knovs^ing them through
the post-office and at rare intervals, the compact is not a bad
one."
Massingbred would have liked much to consult Miss Hender-
son upon 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 introduce the topic without
dropping a word, or letting fall a remark she could not seize
564< THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
hold of. It was the theme, of all others, in which her sen-
sitiveness was extreme; nor could he exactly say whether she
sneered at a mesalliance, or at the insolent tone of society
regarding it.
Again he bethought him of the ungraciousness of the task
he had assumed, if, as was most probable. Lady Dorothea should
feel Mr. Scanlan's pretensions an actual outrage. " She'll never
forgive me for stating them, that's certain," said he ; " but will
she do so if I decline to declare them, or, worse still, leave them
to the vulgar interpretation 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 he, 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 touch 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 speculating 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 all 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? "
A CONSULTATIOIf. 565
Massingbred did not reply, but sat deep in tti ought 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 pale-
ness 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 beggarly tract, near
Kiltimmon, Mary has a charge upon."
" Read 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, Massingbi-ed 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 that ? "
" I say it's a right good ofier, and on no account to be refused.
Thei'e is some hitch or other — I can't say what, but it exists, I
know — which ties us up against selling. Old Repton 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 pui'pose? 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 ? "
566 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN
" I won't say I'd choose the connection ; 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.
You 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 think me a deuced selfish
fellow for treating the question in this fashion ; 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. Merl used to laugh at me if I asked him how we
stood — he always induced me to regard our dealings as trifles,
to be arranged to-day, to-morrow, or ten years hence."
" I am not unversed in that sort of thing, unluckily," said
Massingbred, interrupting him. " There is another considera-
tion, 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 walks on two legs ; but, as I said before,
Massy, we haven't much choice."
" Will Lady Doi'othea 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 probable of the two — not, mark you, from
A CONSULTATION. 567
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."
" You mean Kate Henderson ? " broke in Martin.
"Yes."
"Well, we've lost 7zer 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 tiff with my mother last
night. I will say the girl was shamefully treated — shamefully !
My lady completely forgot herself She was in one of those
blessed paroxysms 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 Avas, how indifferent she felt
about Mm — how little he weighed in any resolve she determined
to follow. She had gone without a word of farewell — perhaps
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 sure to be painful. Better meet
it at once, and have done with 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 asked me
568 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 that I 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
\iave to be on the alert about this business of yours, Martin,
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 be, taking up Mass-
ingbred's letter.
" Shall I meet you in about an hour, in the Lichtenthal
avenue ? "
" Agreed," said he ; and they parted.
We have no need, nor have we any right, to follow Massing-
bred as he strolled out to walk alone in an alley of the wood.
Irresolution is an intense suffering to men of action; and such
was the present condition of his mind. Week after week,
month after month, had he lingered on in companionship with
the Martins, till such had become the intimacy between them,
that they scrupled not to discuss before him the most confiden-
tial 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, the 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 ho put to himself;
and for answer he could only repeat it.
A CONSULTATION. 569
CHAPTER LiV.
A COMPEOMISE.
There are many who think that our law of pinmogeniture is
a sad hai'dener of the heart — estranging the father from the
son, widening petty misunderstandings to the breadth of griev-
ances, engendering suspicions where there should be trustful-
ness, and opening two roads in life to those who should right-
fully 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 exaggeration — allowing
much for the prejudices of those who assail this institution —
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 in-
terests, 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 dis-
like it, beyond the " boi'edom " of a rather monotonous kind of
life. He was naturally 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 estate would never cover the debts. There was a species
of rivalry on seeing who should lay most open to public view
details and incidents purely belonging to a family. It was even
a principle of this new school to discuss, and suffer others to
discuss before them, the class and condition of life of their
570 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
parents in a tone of mockery and derision, whenever the occa-
sion 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 all 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 you, old fellow, a few hundreds more or less. You 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 repugnance,
he learned at last to listen to them with indiSerence, 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 dimly 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 mantel-piece had
thus fixed his attention, and he 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 ! "
Years — long years — seemed to pass over as he Avaited thus;
scenes of childliood, of infancy itself, mingled with the gay
dissipations 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 brain, till at length it was
only by an eflbrt that he could shake olF these flitting fancies
and remember where he was.
He at once bethought him that there was much to be done.
He had given Massingbred'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 selfishness whether to seek her. The thought of that
sick room, dark and silent, appalled him. " Is it at such a time
A CONSULTATION. 571
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 hesitated, 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, ar
an expi-ession 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, " You have actually sold the rever-
sion 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 re-
maining. Your 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 says,'" replied she, Avith 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 faltered, 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."
" Which I trust you did not permit ? " asked Martin, hur-
riedly.
" I told him he should see him this evening, but there is no
necessity for it. Scanlan may have left this before evening."
672 THE MARXraS OF CRO' MARTIN.
''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 Martin, anxiously.
"Dare we refuse them? What is the alternative? I sup-
pose what you have done with your Jew friend has been exe-
cuted legally — formally ? "
"Trust him 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?"
" Yes, I believe so," replied he, doggedly.
"Then really there is nothing left to us but Scanlan. He
objects to Repton ; so do I. I always deemed him obtrusive
and familiar. In the management of an Irish estate such quali-
ties 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.
"Yes, sir, you have really brought it to that," rejoined she,
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 his 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 a inesalliance 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 othex", 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 compassioa
A COMPROMISE. 573
"Scoff away!" said he, sternly; "btrt if I thought that
any consent we gave to this scheme could take the shape of a
coercion, I'd send the estate to the "
"You have, sir — you have done all that already," broke in
Lady Dorothea. " When the 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 recrimi-
Dation? There's Scanlan sitting on a bench befoi'e 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 occasionally 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. " Yes, my lady," said he, " I think it em-
braces the chief points. Of course there is nothing specified
es 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, sh-."
" Well, if I must speak plainer, I want to be sure that your
concurrence is no mere barren concession, my lady ; that, in
admitting my pretensions, your ladyship favours them. This
is, of course," said he, in a tone of deference, "if your ladyship
condescends 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."
574 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"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 ai'rival there can you make such
arrangements as will put this affair out of all danger, using
every endeavour in your power? "
" I hope I could answer for that within a week — maybe,
less."
"You'll have to eSect 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
conditions 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. " You 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
" You shall have your bond, sir — you shall have your bond,"
iroke 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 earn. Captain Martin,"
said Scanlan, as a flash of angry meaning covered his features.
4 COMPROMISE. bib
" And we have agreed to the tei'ms, Mr. Scanlau," said her
ladyship, with a great effort to conciliate. " It only remains for
us to say, a good journey, and 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 to offer his hand — a measure 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 that's to be her
nephew," muttered he, with a bitter laugh, as he descended the
stairs. "And, indeed, my first cousin, tlie captain, isn't the
model of family affection. 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
spirit — broke from Lady Dorothea as tlie door closed after
him. "Insufferable 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
60?"
"It is just what I have been turning over in my own mind,"
replied 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 mean't 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 hia 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 cam©
576 THE MARTIKS OP CRO* MARTIN.
and went in hia cheek, and a sense of faintish sickness crept
over him.
"The post has arrived, my lady, and I liave left your lady-
ship's letters on the dressiug-tahle," said a servant. And Lady
Dorothea, who had heen impatiently awaiting the mail, hastened
at once to her room.
LEITER THAT NEVER REACHES ITS ADDRESS. iill
CHAPTER LV.
A LETTER THAT NEVER REACHES ITS ADDRESS.
It was not without a very painful emotion that Lady Doro-
thea 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 casual-
ties of fortune, forgetting the while that 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 he to whom they were addressed lay breath-
ing 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 unfeel-
ing, too, and so heartless at such 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
fate and fortune of him for whom we destine them ! We are
telling of hope where despair has already entered — we are
speaking joy to a house of mourning ! But one letter alone
remained unopened. It was in Repton's hand, and she broke
the seal, wondering how he, who of all men bated writing,
should have turned a correspondent.
" The " strictly confidential " of the cover was repeated
within ; but the hour had come Avhen she could violate the
caution, and she read on. The first few lines were a half-jesting
38
578 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
allusion to Martin's croakings about his health ; but even these
had a forced, constrained air, and none of the jocular ease 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, ready for action, and resolute. I
know the tone and style that an absentee loves and even re-
quires 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 some-
thing — they know not what — is ooming. The Relief 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
suspicion ; but enlist his self-love, his vanity, and his acquisi-
tiveness 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 hopefully 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. Mean-
while 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
scheme of very different heads from those who worked it^by
which the law should ever be assailed, and the right of pro-
A LETTER THAT NEVER REACHES ITS ADDRESS. .779
perty everlastingly put in dispute. In plain words, the system
was a standing- protest against the sway of the Saxons 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 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 healthful glow of love to ^,,^
the landlord. Some would say, it is too late for all this ; but I
will not think so. Magennis 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 person-
ally ; 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 consider-
able 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 fabulously 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 like her, and
I'll bid defiance to all the machinations of all the agitators;
nd they know it !
" If your estate has resisted longer than those of your neigh,
bours the demoralizing 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 lier for it—ay, Martin,
Aer courage, lier devotion, lier watchful charity, l\^r unceasing
580 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
benevolence, the glorious guarantee her daily life gives, that
she at least is with the people in all their sufferings 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 will not be defeated !
" Henderson may bewail, and Maurice Scanlan deride, the
shortcomings 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, nurtui'ed in every luxury, braves
the wildest day of winter in her mission of charity ? — that the
most squalid misery, the most pestilent disease never deterred
her ? I saw her a few days back coming home at daybreak ;
she had passed the night in a hovel, where 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, think 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 im-
perilling — who encounters all the hazards of our treacherous
climate, and all 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
A LETTER THAT NEVER REACHES US ADDRESS. 581
was, that she should be your daughter. That you made her
feel all the affection of one, none can tell more surely than my-
self. 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 intentions 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.
The country is dull and wearisome, devoid of society, and
without resources, and you leave it; but you leave behind
you, to endui-e 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, in-
surrection threatens, and midnight disturbances are rife, and
she who is to confront 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 influeuce 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 the 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 child, as it were, but yesterday.
Neither your health nor your happiness can be purchased at
such a price — your conscience is too sound for that — nor can
your ease ! No, Martin, your thoughts will stray over here,
and linger amongst these lonely glens that she is treading.
Your 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 — bending over the
sick bed of age. And then, tracing her footsteps homeward,
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 I could sjpeah — all that you
should do.
"Now 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. Without being
582 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
able to give even a guess as to the truth of this, I draw your
attention to the bare possibility, as of a case full of very serious
complications. Speak to your son at once on the subject, and
learn the truth — the whole truth. 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
bis time traversing the property in all directions, investigating
questions of rent, wages, and tenure of land. They tell mar-
vellous stories of his charity and so forth — blinds, doubtless, to
cover his own immediate objects. Mary, however, I ought to
say, takes a very diflferent view of his character, and is so
anxious to know him personally, that I have promised her to
visit him, and bring him to visit her at the cottage. And, by
the way, Martin, why should she be at the cottage — why not at
Cro' Martin ? What miserable economy has dictated a change
that must reflect upon her influence, not to apeak 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
Massingbred, 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 affairs. Mean-
while 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 full of impulsive action.
" 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, " Your attached friend,
*• Val. Eepton.
A LEITER THAT NEVER EEACHES ITS ADDRESS. 583
"I believe I was wrong about Henderson; at least the dis-
agreeable 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 ordering them to dress him. The difficulty
of utterance seemed to increase his irritation, and gave to
his words a harab, discordant tone, very 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
ladyship, quietly stole from the chamber, leaving her alone at
his bedside.
"You are too weak for this exertion, Godfrey," said she,
calmly. " Any effort like this is certain to injure you,"
"You 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. What a strange confusion is over me. Do you
know, Dolly," — here his voice fell to a mei'e 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 you 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 eagerness 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 loas here — he
8at in that very chair — he held my hand within both his own.
684 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Poor, poor fellow! how his eyes filled when he saw me. He
little knew how changed he himself was ! — his hair white a3
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 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."
"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 Repton's letter between her fingers."
" A letter I have been reading," said she, sternly.
" From whom — from whom? " asked he, still more eagerly.
" A letter from Mr. Repton. You shall read it when you are
better. You are too weak for all this exertion, Godfrey; you
must submit "
" Submit ! " broke he in, " the very word he said. You
submit yourself to anything, if it only purchase your selfish
ease. No, Dolly, no, I am wrong. It was I 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. Repton knows all our affairs. 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
A leher that never reaches its address. 585
clearly, my own dear Barry ! " The word, as it were the 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 joined her in the darkened room.
" He woke up, believing that he had seen his brother, and the
effect was very painful."
" Has he asked for me ? " inquired the other.
" No ; he rambled on about Mary, and having deserted her,
and all that ; and just as ill-luck would have it, here is a letter
from Repton, exactly filled with the very same theme. He
insists on seeing it, but of course he will have forgotten it when
he awakes."
" You have written to Scanlan ? " asked he.
" Yes ; my letter has been sent off."
" Minutes are precious now. If anything should occur here "
— his eyes turned towards the sick bed as he spoke — " Merl will
refuse to treat. His people — I know they are his — are hover-
ing about the hotel all the morning, I heard the waiter whis-
pering 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. "Repton 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 she
took several keys from her pockets, and noiselessly unlocking
the box, she began to search amidst his contents. As she con-
tinued, her gestures grew more and more hurried — she threw
papers recklessly here and there, and at last emptied the entire
586 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
upon tlie table befoi'e her, " See, search if there be a key
here," cried she, in a broken voice; "I saw it here three days
ago."
" There is none here now, said he, wondering at her eager-
ness.
" Look carefully — look well for it," said she, her voice trem-
bling at every word.
" Is it of such consequence "
" It is of such consequence," broke she in, " that he into
whose hands it falls can leave you and me beggars on the
world ! " An eff3rt 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 ? "
" 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 sti'ong enough to leave this. I
want to be back there again. Nay, don't refuse me," said he,
timidly.
" When you are equal to the journey "
" I have a still longer one before me, Dora, and even less
preparation 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 Massingbi'ed 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 towards the window 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, sickly fear of he know not what, crept over him.
A LETTER THAT NE7ER REACHES ITS ADDRESS. 587
He walked on quicker ; but as he drew nigh the door his
servant met him. " Well ! " 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.
588 THE MARTINS OB' CRO' MAETlll.
CHAPTER LVI.
A VERY BRIEF INTERVIEW,
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 talking — of which he knew nothing;
party changes and new social combinations 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 effort that his own
party extolled to the skies, and even the Opposition could only
criticise the hai'dihood 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 each atom of the social scheme affects the working of the
whole machinery, is far from palatable in its personal applica-
tion. 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.
A VERY BRIEF INTERVIEW. 589
He had promised, and really meant, to hare looked after
Martin's affiiirs 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
sorry to have something to do — perhaps he had some compunc-
tions of conscience for his forgetfulness ; at all events, he sent
his servant at once to Scaulan's hotel, with a request 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-
diately. The message was scarcely delivered when Scanlan
himself appeared.
Dressed in deep mourning, but with an easy jomplacency 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 yourself I'd have come this morning, Mr. Massingbred,
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 yester-
day. A fi'iend 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 the arrangement? Had you come to terms
previously with Merl ? "
" No ; he kept negotiating and fencing with us from day to
day, now asking for this, 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 dis-
position 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 in 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
590 THE MAEffmS OF CRO' MARIlN.
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. Massingbred ; 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."
" Why, are you in Mr. Merl's service, then ? " asked Jack,
with one of his quiet laughs.
" I am, and I am not," said Scanlan, 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 ? "
" 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
seeing that Massingbred did not seem to relish the freedom^ he
hurriedly repeated his leave-takings, and departed.
THE DARK SIDE OF A CHAKACTER. 601
CHAPTER LVII.
THE DARK SIDE OP A CHARACTER.
"Ye might ken the style of these epistles by this time,
Dinah," said Mr. Henderson, 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 writing-table. " She
wants to hear uaething 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.
" 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 her 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 Kiltimmon ? "
" I have. I have told her that, except Miss Mary herself,
nobody would venture into the barony."
"The greater fule yerself, then," said he, angrily. " Couldna
ye see that she'll score this as a praise o' the young leddy's
courage? Ye maun 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 rig-ht in doina: so."
592 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"I hae iiae 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 ! Ye hae no forgotten the conspeeracy ? "
" I gave it exactly as you told me, and I copied oat the two
paragraphs in the papers about it, beginning, ' Greal scandal,'
and ' If our landed 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 think-
ing "
"If ye canna keep your ain counsel, ye must just pay the
cost o' it," said he, savagely. " Finish the letter there, and let
me send it to the post. I wanted ye to say a' about the
Nelligans comin' up to visit Miss Mary, and she goin' ower the
grounds wi' them, 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 condescendin' 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.
"Ye may add, that Mister Scanlan has taken to shootin' over
the preserves we were keepin' for the captain, and if her leddy.
ship does not wish to banish the woodcocks a'thegither, she'd
better gie an order to stop him. Young Nelligan had a special
permission from Miss Mary hersel', and if it was na that he
canna hit a haystack at twenty yards, there'd no be a cock
pheasant in the whole demesne! I think I'm looking at her as
she reads this," said he, with a malicious grin. " Ech, sirs,
won't her great black eyebrows meet on her 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 stx'aiii
her eyes through the tears that now rose to them.
THE DARK SIDE OF A CHARACTER. 593
"It's a post-chaise wi' twa trunks on the top. I wondor
who's comin' in it?" said Henderson, as he opened the sash-
door, 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 and 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 rowl 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 melancholj'
smile, while she placed some silver in his hand.
"What's this here, my lady? It's like one of the owld
tenpenny 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."
" Sm-e they'll give you what you want inside," said he,
pointing towards the house.
" No, no ; take this. 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 painful 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 chimney-
piece.
" You came away suddenly, then ? Had anything unpleasant
— was there any reason ? "
" I had been desirous of leaving for some time back. Lady
Dorothea only g'ave her consent on Tuesday last — I think ib
was Tuesday — but my head is not very cleai', for I am some-
what tired." There was an indescribable sadness in the way
39
594 THE MARTINS OF CRO' JIARTIN.
these simple words were uttered, and in tlie sig-li which followed
them.
"I'm afi-aid he'll not be pleased at it!" said the otlier,
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 case is hopeless," said Mrs. Henderson.
" He is very ill indeed ; the doctors g"ive no hope of saving'
him. Is Miss Martin fully aware of his state ? "
"Who can tell? We scarcely ever see her. You 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 everything; and with that independent way he
has "
A wide stare from Kate's full dark eyes, and expression
of astonishment, mingled with raillery, in her features, here
arrested the speaker, who blushed deeply in her embarrass-
ment.
" 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 haughty
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,
w^hat is he doing? "
" The old people ai'e 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. Nelligau
comes up frequently to the cottage now, and dines with Miss
Martin. I'm sure I don't know how my lady would like to see
her there."
" She is not very likely," said Kate, drily.
THE DAEK SIDE OF A CHARACTER. 595
"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 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
Vv'as only the other day — that her uncle couldn't live without
you — that you nursed him, and read to him, and what not; and
us to her ladyship, that she never took a drive in the carriage,
or answered a note, without asking your advice first."
" 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 joeople who had really very-
great gifts that could condescend to make themselves subservient
without humiliation. I know she said 'without humiliation,'
because your father laughed when he heard of it, and remai-ked,
' If it's Kate's humility they 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
fiist, might I ask for a little refreshment—a cup of tea ? Oh, I
forgot," added she, smiling, " tea is one of the forbiden luxuries
here."
" ISTo ; 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 v/ith the green paper, where I used to be, long ago ? "
"Well, indeed, I can scarcely tell. The bed was taken
iown last autumn, and as we never thought of your coming
home "
" Home ! " sighed Kate, involuntarily
5^^ THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"But come into my room, and I'll fetch you a cup of tea
directly."
"No, no; it is better not to risk offending him," said Kate,
calmly. "I remember, now, that this was one of his antipa-
thies. Give me anything else, for I have not eaten to-day."
While her stepmother went in search of something to offer
her, Kate sat down beside the fire, deep in thought. She had
removed her bonnet, and 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 thoug'h she were reading her
very destiny in the red emibers 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 stave 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, therefor-e, 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 denounce the upper classes, while ye eat their
bread."
"I denounce no one; nor, so far as I know myself, is in-
gratitude amongst my faults."
" Maybe, if one were to tak' your ain narrative for it, ye hae
nae faults 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.
"Ye -wad rayther, mayhap, that I asked hersel' aboot it!
Well, be it so. And noo comes anitlier point. Do ye think
THE DARK SIDE OF A CHARACTER. 59?
that if your conduct has in any way given displeasure to your
mistress, or offended those in whose service ye were — do ye
think, I sa}', 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, breaking 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 with 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'll 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 1 " meekly observed her step-
mother.
" 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 thegither? Ye'll hae to train wee Janet to be a' ready
for whate'er capince 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,
Bs they tell me ye hae doj le wi' sae mony others, and ye are
^ust as far fra it noo as the first time ye tried it. Ye canna
Sheat nor cajole me ! I know ye ! " And with these words.
598 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
uttered in a tone of intense passion, he slowly walked out of
the room.
"Had he been angry with 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, "'f 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 aflfectionately, and smiled a thankful
acknowledgment of this speech. " And the cottage," said she,
rallying suddenly, "is about three miles off? "
"Not more. But 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 COTTAGE. 599
CHAPTER LVIII.
THE COTTAGE.
It was one of those 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 mountains
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 walked along, these influences imparted no sense
of pleasure or relief. For a few seconds, perhaps, would she
suddenly awake to the consciousness of the fair scene before
he?, and murnnir to herself, perchance, the lines of some
favourite poet ; but in another moment her gloomy thoughtful-
ness was back again, and with bent-down head was she again
moving onward. At times she walked rapidly forward, and
then, relaxing her pace, she would stroll listlessly along, as
thovigh 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!
600 THE MAKTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
this the dreamland of those far away over the seas — the
cherished spot of all affections — 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, false, and untrue;
or is it that I alone have no part in the happiness that is
diffused around me ? I know not which would 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 of larch and copper-beech, she caught sight of
the cottag'e. It was a tasteful imitation of those seen in the
Oberland, and with its wild background of lofty mountain, an
ajjpropriate ornament to the landscape.
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 whole was
simple and unpretending ; there was none of that smart trim-
ness 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 daffodil 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 land.«cape, 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 drawing-i-oom
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 appear-
ance and dress were the perfection of neatness, appeared.
" Don't you know me, Mrs. Broon ? " said Kate, gently.
" I do not, then, ray lady," said she, respectfully, " for my
.ej'es is gettin' dimmer every day."
" I'm Kate Henderson, Mrs. Broon. Do you forget me ? "
" Indeed I do not," said Catty, gravely. " You 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 ? "
THE COTTAGE. 601
"If she plazes it, slie 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 in, then," said Catty ; but the faint sigh with which
the words were uttered, gave but a scant significance of wel-
come.
Kate followed her into the little drawing-room, and, at a sign
from the old woman, took a seat.
" Miss Mary is quite well, I'm glad to hear," said Kate,
endeavouring to introduce some conversation.
"Will they ever come back?" asked the old womon, in a
stern, harsh voice, while she paid no attention whatever to
Kate's remark.
" It is very unlikely," said Kate. " Your 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. ReiDton 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 alread}^," muttered
Catty. " I remember the place upwards of eighty years. I
was born in the little house 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 haiDpier, 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
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 noby turned out of his houldin', and there wasn't
a cabin unroofed to make the people seek shelter under a
ditch."
" The world would then seem growing worse every day,"
remarked Kate, quietly.
602 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"To be sure it is. Why wonlda'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 strivin', and the devil never
niade people his own children so completely as by teachin' them
to love goold ! "
"Your young 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
coffee herself, and saddles the poney, too, if Patsey isn't there
to do it ; and she's off to Glentocher, or KnockmuUen, twelve,
fourteen miles down the coast, with barley for one, and a bottle
of wine for the other. Sometimes she has a basket with her,
just a load to carry, with tay and shugar, ay, and — for she 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 used to be. There's not a night she doesn't sit up patchin'
and pieciii' her clothes. 'Tis Billy at the cross-roads made her
shoes last time for her, just because he wasstarvin' with nothin'
to do. She ordered them, and she wears them to ; it makes
him so pi'oud, 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 — without father' or mother,
brother or sister — without a kind voice to say ' God bless hei',*
as she falls off to sleep many a time in that big- chair there;
and I take off her shoes without ker knowin' it, she does be so
weary and tired ; and in her dhrames it's always talicing to the
people, giviu' 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 amusin' 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 are the daisies in the grass ? •*
I can't tell you how happy I felt ! * There it was : the only
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
THE COTTAGE. 603
knows how good ahe is ! If you only seen her comin' in here,
after dark, maybe, wet and weary and footsore, half famisiied
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 warm 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 heart-
lessness 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 happiei', and I feel
as if it was my spirit that was warmin' and cheerin' him; and
when a poor sick sufferiu' child looks up at me and smiles, I'm
ready to drop on my knees and thank God in gratitude.' "
Kate covered her face with her hands, and never spoke ; and
now the old woman, warming with the theme she loved best,
went on to tell various incidents and events of Mary's life — the
perilous accidents which befel her, the dangers she braved, the
fatigues she encountered. Even recounted by her, there was a
strange adventurous character that ran thi-ough these recitals,
showing that Mary Martin, in all she thought, and said, and
acted, was buoyed and sustained by a sort of native chivalry
that 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 father'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 cliflF that no man could climb, and let me see
who'd hould him ! She's so like him, that when there's any-
thing daring to be done you wouldn't know her voice from his
own. There now, I hear her without," 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.
f)04 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
"Ay, but I did, and my ears are older than yours. She'a
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 bi'awling of the stream
among the rocks, there was nothing to be heard.
" D'ye see her comin' ? " asked Catty, eagerly.
" No. Your 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 towards 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 delusions, giving them the character of
actual warnings. It was doubtless from the mind dwelling so
forcibly on Miss Martin's perilous life that the old woman's
apprehensions had assumed this palpable form, and thus
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 jiale and trembling; an attempt to
smile was on her features, but her heart denied the courage of
the effort.
" Where is she now ? " cried Catty, wildly. " She rang the
bell this minute, and I heerd the mare trottin' round to the
stable by herself, 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. Your mind is anxious and uneasy
about Miss Martin ; you are unhappy at her absence, and you
think at evei'y stir you hear her coming; but I have been to the
riverside, 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 bi'oken voice ; " there was nobody here ! "
" So I said," replied Kate. " It was a mere delusion — a
"A delusion — a fancy ! " cried Catty, scornfully ; " that's the
THE COTTAGE. 605
way they always spake of whatever they don'fc nnderstand.
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 comin', and at the
pool there was bubbles and froth on the water, just as if a baste
bad passed through, but no livin' thing to be seen. Wasn't that
a dekision 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'."
"Where had she gone to?" asked Kate, who now saw that
the other had 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, though (. ally ;
"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 home she's gone
now — one Joan Landy. She's missin' this two months, and
nobody knows where she's gone to ! and Miss Mary got so
uneasy at last that 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 slie could know why she went, or where ? "
"Did she go alone on this errand, then ? "
"To be sure she did. Who could she have with her? She
towld Loony she'd want the boat with four men in it, and maybe
A» 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 the woi'ds of consolation availed but little,
and she sat brooding sorrowfully and in silence.
"The night will soon be falliu' now," said she, at last. "'I
hope she's not at sea ! "
In spite of herself, Kate Henderson caught the contagion of
006 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
the old woman's terrors, and felt a dreamy, undefined dread of
coming evil. As she looked oiiv, however, at the calm and fair
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 5'ou, Mrs. Broou.
If 3'ou 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. " Listen ! I thought
I heei'd something like a wailin' sound far off, but it is the 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 warnia'. You think your heariu' 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 withei-ed face trembled in her agony, and her
clasped hands shook in the suffering of her 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, how-
ever, to turn the current of the old woman's thoughts, by
leading her to speak of the condition of the country and the
state of the people. Catty gave short, abrupt, 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 remembei'ed that I have a long way to
walk, and it is already growing late."
"Ay, and ye' re impatient to be back again, at home, beside
your own fire, with your own people. But sJie has no home, and
her own has deserted her ! "
" Mine has not many charms for me ! " muttered Kate to
herself.
" It's happy for you that has father and mother," went on the
old woman. " Them's the only ones, after all ! — the only ones
that never loves the less, the less we desarve it! I don't wonder
ye came back again ! " And in a sort of envious bitterness Catty
wished her a good night.
If the distance she had to walk was not shortened by the
THE COTTAGE. 607
tenor of her thoughts, as little did she feel impatient to press
onward. Dreary and sad enough were her reveries. Of the
wild visionary ambitions which once had stirred her heart,
there remained nothing but disappointments. She had but
passed the threshold of life to find all dreai'j and desolate; but
perhaps the most painful feeling of the moment was the fact
that now pressed conviction on her, and told that in the humble
career of such a one as Mary Martin there lay a nobler heroism
and a higher devotion than in the most soaring path of political
ambition, and that all the theorising as to popular rights made
but a sorry figure beside the actual benefits conferred by one
true-hearted lover of her kind. " She is right, and I am wrong ! "
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 3'et my very birth denies me the prestige
that hers confers." And then she thought of home, and all the
coldness of that cheerless greeting smote upon her heart.
The moon was 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-moiTOw, perhaps, he may be in better humour, or better
spirits. Good night." And so Kate silent!}'' stole along to her
room, her proud heart swelling- painfidly, and her tearless eye
burning with all the heat of a burning brain.
608 TBE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER LIX.
"a tea-party" at MRS. CRONAN'S
Once moi'e, but for the last time, we are at Kilkieran. To a
dreary day of incessant rain succeeded an evening still dreai-ier.
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 wafted 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 the fashionable assem-
blage then enjoying the hospitalities of Mrs. Cronan's tea-table.
There they were, with a single exception, the same goodly
company already presented to the reader in an early 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 withdrawn, the
ornamental villa of the Martins converted into a miserable
village inn, the works of the pier and harbour suspended, and
pi'esenting 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. Not that we pre-
sume to say they could claim any immunity against the irre-
vocable decrees of age. Unhappily, the confession may be
deemed not exactly in accordance with gallantry ; but it is
strictly true, time had no more forgotten the living than the
inanimate accessories of the picture. Miss Busk, of the Empo-
rium, had grown more sour and more stately. The vinegar of
her temperament was verging upon verjuice, and the ill opinion
" A TEA-PAKTY " AT MRS. CRONAN'S. CO'J
of mankind experience enforced, had written itself veiy legibly
on her features. The world had not improved upon her by
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 him-
self about bathing, and making up his mind to suffer no " sea
change; " he was, therefore, more cheerful than before.
As for Mrs. Cronan, "the little comforts she was used to"
had sorely diminished by the 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! These 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 the liquor does not get
racier with years, it degenei'ates 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 dignitai"ies ; such
as Father Maher, the Captain, Miss Busk, and Mrs. Clincli ;
hut 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. Reputations were roasted and pan-
cakes fried — characters and chickens alike mangled — and all
the hubbub of a festival prevailed, in a scene where the effijrta
of the fair hostess were directed to produce an air of unblem-
ished elegance and gentility.
Poor Clinch, the revenue officer, who invariably eat what he
called "his bit" in some obscure quarter, alone and companion-
less, was twice " had up " before the authorities for the row and
uproar that prevailed, and underwent a severe cross-examina-
tion, " as to where he was when Miss CuUenane was making
the salad? " and, indeed, cut a very sorry figure at the conclu-
sion of the inquiry. All the gaieties and gravities of the scene,
however, gradually toned down as the sei'ious debate of the
evening came on; which was no other than the lamentable
40
610 raE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
condition of the prospects of Kilkieran, and the unanimous
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 j\Iiss 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."
" That's word for word out of the Intelligence,'" cried the
captain. " 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 Galioay
Gelt, they gave me a leading article beginning, ' As the hot
weather is now commencing, and the season for fashion
approaches, we cannot better serve the interests of our readers
than by dii'ecting attention to the elegant "Symposium!"'
Symposium ! — I give you my word of honour that's what they
put it."
" On my conscience ! it might have been worse," chuckled
out the captain.
" It was young Nelligan explained to me what it was," re-
sumed Miss Busk ; " and Scaulan 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 ornaments, such as a queen might wear ! And
there's all that's left me now ! " And she pointed to a brooch
about the size of a cheese-plate, where a melancholy gentleman
in uniform was repi'esented, with a border of mock pearls
around him. " The last pledge of affection ! " sobbed she.
" 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 flattering and pleasant. " There's Magennis'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."
"a tea-party" at MRS, cronan's. Cll
" 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
di-essed up in the Martin livery, and sends him to Joe's house
on the box of a coach, inside of which was a gentleman that
begged a word with the Counsellor. ' You're not engaged, I
hope. Counsellor Nelligan,' says he, ' in Magennis against
Martin ? ' ' No,' says Joe, for he caught a glimpse of the
livery. ' You'i-e 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 retainer;' and he put both down on the table, and
when Joe looked down he saw he was booked for Magennis.
You may imagine how he felt, but he never uttered a word, for
there was no help for it."
" And do j'Ou mean to tell me," cried Mrs. Clinch, " that the
lawyers can't help themselves, but must just talk, and rant, and
swear for any one that asks them first ? "
" It's exactly what I mean, ma'am," responded the captain.
*' They've no more choice in the matter than the hangman has
as to who he'll hang."
" Then I'd as soon be a guager ! " exclaimed the lady, with
a contemptuous glance at poor Clinch, who winced under the
observation.
" But I don't see what they wanted young Nelligan for," said
Miss Busk, " what experience or knowledge has lie ? "
" 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 Repton himself isn't his equal."
" I suppose, from the airs he gives himself, he must be some-
thing wonderful," said Mrs. Cronan.
"Well, now, I differ 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 selling glue, and hides, and tenpenny-uails,
and he's just as easy and unconstrained as if the old man was
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 depre-
ciating accidents of condition. I know it by myself."
" "Well, I wonder what he'll make of this case, anyhow," said
612 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Bodkin, to escape a controversy lie 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;
" whenever there's anything in law that never was foreseen or
pi'ovided for, against which there is neither act nor statute,
they've one grand and vinfailing resource — they charge it as a
consjoiracy. I've a brother an attorney, and he tells me that
there isn't a man, woman, or child in the kingdom but could be
indicted for doing something by a conspiracy."
" It's a great comfort to know that," said Bodkin, gravely.
" And what can they do to her, if she's found guilty ? " asked
Mrs. Cronan.
"Make her smart for the damages, ma'am; leave her some-
thing less to expend on perversion and interference with 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 confidence in their spiritual guides, the people are running
after a young girl with a head full of wild schemes and con-
trivances. We all know by this time how these things end,
and the best receipt to make a Protestant begins, ' First, starve
your Papist.' "
" I rise to order," called out Bodkin. "We agreed we*d have
no polemics nor party discussions."
"Why am I appealed to, then, for explanations that involve
them ? " 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
Dorothea's second maid ; but I don't think it a fit subject for
public conversation."
" And ain't we in committee here ? " chimed in Bodkin j
"have we any secrets from each other?" The racy laugh oi
the old fellow, as he threw a knowing glance around the table,
rather disconcerted the nompany. " Let's hear about Henuerson's
daughter,"
"a tea-pajjtt" at MRS, cronan's. 615
"The story is soon told, six-. Lady Dorothea detected her
endeavouring to draw young Martin into a private marriage.
Tlie artful creature, by some means or other, had obtained such
an insight 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 the priest seemed to impart a kind
of gratified surprise at this announcement.
" He had got into a habit of signing his name, they say ; and
wliefcher 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 you've heard how the Henderson girl was
turned away out of the French duke's family — how she was
found in correspondence with the leaders of the mob in Paris ?
Maybe, sir, you are aware that she has 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 say, I don't believe it either," said Bobkin, 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. " No-
thing 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 wasn't that she left her place empty-handed, then," said
Miss Busk. " Jemima tells me that she managed the whole
Louse — paid for everything ; and we all know what 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
614 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
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 con-
veyed to Miss Martin; she is at the islands, and I have na
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 it on the table. " May I venture to hope Mr. Clinch will
so far oblige me ? The fishermen 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 he is too gallant to oppose
your wishes."
" Faith ! 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 Busk, with a sneer.
" I suppose you'd better let her have the boat, Clinch," said
his wife, in a whisper. " Thex'e'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 la-st under
his own roof. I'm sure it weighed heavily on him."
" I trust his son will follow his example, nevertheless," said
the priest. "I don't want to see one of the name amongst
us."
THE COTTAGE. 615
"You might have worse, Father Maher," said Bodkiu,
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 readily reconciled. Meanwhile,
Kate was hastening down to the shore, followed, rather than
escorted, by little Clinch, who, even in the darkness, felt that
the conjugal eye was upon him.
616 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER LX.
THE BRAN NOCK ISLANDS.
A LITTLE to the north-west of the island of Innishmore are
scattered a number of small islets, some scarcely more than
barren rocks, called the Brannocks. One of these alone was
inhabited, and that by 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 tliey fell iu with some
homeward-bound ship at sea, and sold the little produce of
their nets, for they lived by fishing, and had no other sub-
sistence.
The largest of these islands was called " Brannock-buoy," or
the Yellow Brannock, from the flower of a kind of crocus which
grew profusely 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 wiad,
which came without break or hindrance from the far-away
shores of Labradoi'. 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 iu 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 the 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
THE BEAXNOCK ISLANDS. G17
of its own happiness, nor did they believe that their lot was ont
to repine at.
Seasons of unprofitable laboui', 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 was, at
the time we speak of, upwai-ds of eighty; and aUhough his
hair was white as snow, his cheek was ruddy, his white teeth
were perfect, and his eye — like that of I^loses — " 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 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 something of tlie calm, steadfast look which
chai'uctcrised 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 peculiar.
In the midst of them moved one, who, though di-essed 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 she 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 Bran-
nock. Partly in gratitude to her deliverer, partly in tlie indul-
gence 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
618 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
reason for her self-banishment, none inquired whether the cause
of her exile was crime or misfortune. They had gi'own to feel
attachment to her for the qualities of her gentle, quiet nature,
a mild submissive tempei', and a disposition to oblige, that for-
got 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 — was happy — happier than ever she had been before. The
one great sorrow of her life was, it is true, treasured in her
heart; her lost home, her blighted hope, her severed affection —
for she actually loved Magennis — were griefs over which she
wept many an hour in seer. ; but there was a sense of duty, a
conscious feeling of rectitude that supported her in her sacrifice,
and as she thought of her old grandfather's death-bed, she could
say to her heart, " I have been true to my word with him."
The unbroken quiet, the unchanging character of the life
she led — its very du.ties following a routine that nothing ever
disturbed — gave her ample time for thought; and thought,
though tinged with melancholy, has its own store of consola-
tion ; and if poor Joan sorrowed, she sorrowed like one v/ho
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 appeared little other than a
mind-drawn picture. Nothing actual or tangible remained to
convince her of its reality. It was only at rai^e intervals, and
in the very clearest weather, the outline of the mountains 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
THE BRANNOCK ISLANDS. 619
on shore to refit, and sails were spread out upon the rocks to
dry, and coils of rope, and anchoi's, and loose spars littered the
little space before the door. The scene was a busy, and not aa
unpicturesque one. There was every age, from the oldest to
very infancy, all active — all employed. Some were caulking'
the seams of the boat, others overhauled sails and cordage,
some were preparing the nets, attaching cork floats or sinkers,
and two chubby urehins, mere infants, laughing, fed the fire
that blazed beneath a lai'ge 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 mainland some time
before, now altered her course, and was seen slowly bearing up
towards the Brannocks. Though the sea was calm and wave-
less, the wind was only suflicient 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 oai'S could be distinctly heai'd.
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. Neither was
she one of the revenue-boats. What could she be, then, since
DO large ship was in sight to which she could have belonged ?
It is only to those who have at some one period or other of life
sojourned in some lone spot of earth, away from human inter-
course, that the anxiety of these poor people could be intelli-
gible. 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 interest-
ing can become the commonest of those incidents which mark
ordinary existence. They assume, indeed, very difierent propor-
tions from the real, and come charged with innumerable imagin-
ings about that wondrous life, far, far away, where there are
thoughts and passions, and deeds and events, which never enter
into the dreamland of exile ! It was a little after sunset that
the boat glided into the small creek which formed the only har-
bour 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 sui-prise, they
saw Joan burst from the spot, and, rushing down the slope,
throw herself at the stranger's feet.
" And have I found you at last, dear Joan," cried a soft, low
620 THE MARTINS OF CEO' JIARTIN.
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 fresh tears that filled them.
" They told me you had sailed from Galway," resumed Maiy,
" 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, Joan, I still clung to the
notion that you had contrived this plan to escape being dis-
covered, and that you were concealed somewhere along the
coast or in the islands. I believe I used to dream of this at
first, but at last I thought of it all day long."
" Thought of me all day long ? " broke in Joan, sobbing.
"And why not, poor child? Was I not the cause of your
leaving your home ? Was it not my persuasion that induced
you to leave the roof that sheltered you ? I have often won-
dered 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 effect 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 mes-
sage 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. ]\Iagennis, 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 the 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, how 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.
THE BRANXOCK ISLANDS. 621
" There they are ! " cried she, pointing 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 respect-
fully to receive her.
" He doesn't know much English, Miss Mary," 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 people she was called — was before them,
and their pride and happiness knew no bounds.
Oh ! if courtiers could feel one tithe of the personal devclion
to the Sovereign, that did these poor 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 not 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 !
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 that runs through the woof of Irish natui'e
in every 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 unfrequented 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. The sons had been
— and that rarely, too-^on the mainland, but the children and
622 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
tlieir mothers had never left the Brannocks; they had never
beheld a tree, nor even a flower, save the wild crocus on their
native rock. With 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. " You shall all
come and see me, some of these days. I'll send you a
messenger, to say the time," said Mai-y ; " and I'll promise that
what you'll witness will be far above my description of it! "
It was a sad moment when Maiy 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 that you have a home
now 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 signs of a storm, coming from the west-
ward, 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 forebodes 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 Maiy, 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, although 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 Mary, for it will soon come down
heavily."
A loud clap of thunder burst forth, and as suddenly, like a
(Horrent, the rain poured down, hissing over the dark sea, and
THE BRANNOCK ISLANDS. (i23
filling the air with a dull, discovdanfc noise. Still they slept on,
nor heai-d nor felt aught of that gathering storm.
" There now, sui-e 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 prepai'e for
the coming conflict. The mainsail was quickly lowered and
reefed, the oars and loose spars secured, and then, seating
themselves in the bottom of the boat, they waited in silence.
By this time the rain had passed over, and a strong wind swept
over the sea.
" She's going fast through the water, anyway ! " said one of
the men. But though the speech was meant to cheer, none felt
or acknowledged the encouragement.
" 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 a black day that anything happened her ! "
muttered another.
" Musha ! we've wives and childei'," said a third, " but she's
worth a thousand of us ! **
And thus, in broken whispers, they spoke; not a thought
save of her, not a care save for her safety. They prayed, too,
ferveiatly, and her name was in all their supplications.
" She's singing to herself in her sleep," whispered 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 ia
reply,
G21. THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" Why would I wake her up ? "
"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
fall, to be as calm and resolute as I ought to be. This poor
thing had not been hero 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'ard. Loony : set the jib on her! "
"To be sui'e, if you ordher it, Miss Mary; but she has more
sail now than she can carry,"
"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. We've been out in as bad before."
Loony shook his head as he went forward to bend the
additional sail.
"You see she won't bear it, miss," cried he, as the boat
plunged fearfully into the trough of the sea.
" Let us try," said she, calmly : " stand by, ready to slack off,
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 my 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 windward, men, and don't move ; never mind baling, only
keep quiet,"
THE ER.VXXOCK ISLANDS. 625
"Miss Mary was right," muttered one of the men; "the
head-sail is drawing her high out of the water ! "
"Is that dark mass before us cloud, or the land?" cried
she.
"It's the mountains, miss. There, to the left, where yon see
the dip in the ridge, that's Kilkicran. 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. "What 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
thinking 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 understand the lights on shore."
"Because they're shitting 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 the little harbour,
well-nigh exhausted, and worn out with fatigue and anxiety.
As for Mary, wet through and cold, she could not rise from her
seat without assistance, and almost fainted as she put her foot
on shore. She turned one glance seaward to where the other
boat was seen following them, and then, holding Joan's hand,
she slowly toiled up the rocky ascent to the village. To the
crowd of every age that surrounded 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 hei".
" 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 sorrow 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
in, yet ? " said she, looking towards the sea,
"Yes, miss; they're close alongside now. It's the revenue
boat that went after us."
41
626 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
" Wirra, wirra! but that's bad news for her now," muttered
a boatman, in conversation with an old woman at his side.
"What's the bad news, Patsey?" said Maiy, overhearing
him.
But the man did not dare to answer, and though he looked
around on every side, none would speak for him.
"You used to be more frank with me," said Mary, calnil\',
" Tell me what has happened."
Still not a word was uttered, a mournful silence brooded over
the crowd, and each seemed to shun the task of bi-eaking- it.
" You 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 fisher-
man's cabin, till they went in search of a conveyance to tako
her to the cottaafe.
A ;«S'iiER :eom masskgbred, 627
OliAPTER LXr.
A LETTER FEOM MASSIKGBREP.
" Martin Arms, Oughterard,
"In spite of all your reasonings, all your cautions, and all
jour warnings, here I am once more, Harry, denizen of the
little dreary parlour whence I first looked out at Dan Nelligan's
shop something more than a year since. Wliat changes of
fortune has that brief space accomplished! wliat changes has
it effected even in my own nature ! I feel this is 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, purposeless life I have led hitherto.
" I am well aware that you would not accept the reason I
gave you for coming here. You said that, as to taking leave of
my constituents, a letter was the ordinary and the sufficient
course. You also hinted that our intercourse had not been of
that close and friendly nature which requires a personal fare-
well, and then you suggested that other and less defensible
motives had probably their share in this step. Well, you are
right, perfectly right ; I wanted to see the spot which has so
far exerted an immense influence over me; I wanted — if you
will have the confession — to see Iter 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 bearing 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
628 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
surmise wittout a flat and full denial. Perhaps, after all, I
have mistaken your 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 refusal of me ! a reprisal for
the proud I'ejection of my hand and fortune ! 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 sin-
cerity of character. She must be what I have ever seen her,
or she is an actress. Difference of condition, different asso-
ciates, 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 ' sub-
mit 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 circumstances of the Martins and their misfortunes.
From him I ascertained that all Scanlan had told me was per-
fectly correct. The 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, there-
fore, 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 asso-
ciates not more than one in five or six have survived the v/reck
of fortune the fii'st few yeai's of extravagance accomplish, and
that Manheim, Brussels, and Munich can show the white-
seamed, mock-smartened-up gentilities which once were the
glories of Bond-street and the Park; but for poor Martin, I
suspect, even these last sanctuaries do not remain — as I hear ifc,
he is totally gone.
" From the vei'y 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
A LETTER FROM MASSINGBRED. 629
not, on certain unspeakable localities, with threats Ai 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 existed between the
Martins and the people of the borough, whatever jealousies
grew out of disparity of station, seemed suddenly merged in
sympathy for this great misfortune. They are, of course,
ignorant of the cause of this sudden calamity, and ask each
other how, 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 oflT to Mr, Rep ton's house.
You may remember 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 aristocratic 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 w^as 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.
" Ropton 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 something about Merl, his
character, pursuits, and position; and you would have been
amazed to see how surprised they were at my account of a man
whose tj'pe we are all so familiar with.
" You would scarcely credit the unfeigned astonishment mani-
fested 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, Repton,' 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 can-
not be denied entrance. Such fellows as this Merl had no footing
in our day. The man who associated with such would have
forfeited his own place in the world.'
630 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" ' Very trne,' said Repton ; * though we borrowed their money,
we never bowed to them.'
" ' And we did wisely, sir,' retorted the other. ' The corrup-
tion of their manners was fifty times worse than all their usury !
The gallant Hussar Captain, as we see here, never scrupled
about admitting to his closet intimacy a fellow not fit company
for his valet. Can't you perceive that when a man will descend
to such baseness to obtain money, there is no measuring the
depth he will go to when pressed to pay it ! '
"*I am intimate with Martin,' said I, interrupting, 'and I
can honestly assure you that it was rather to an easy, careless,
nncalculating disposition he owes his misfortunes, than to any-
thing 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 Repton, 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 feature 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 accom-
pany them — made him a mere creature of schemes and plots —
a usurer in spirit, though a pauper in fact ? '
" ' When I say, sir, that you are addressing this demand to
one whom Captain deems his friend, you will see the impro-
priety you have fallen into.'
" ' My young friend is right,' broke in Repton. ' The Court
rules against the question; nor would it be evidence even if
answered.'
" I was angry at this interference of Repton's. I wanted to
reply to this man myself; but still, as I looked at his sorrow-
struck features, 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.
A LETTER FROM MASSINGBRED. 631
with a manner of ineffixble gentleness, said, *I entreat you to
pardon me, sir, for an outburst of which I am ah-eady 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 that I cease to remember Avhat 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. 'I start for that country to-night ; you would do
me a great favour should you accompany me.'
"I acceded at once, and he went on. 'Repton 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 Repton; 'by
that time Mr. Massingbred will have expended all his borough
blandishments and be free to give us his society.'
"Though the old lawyer now tried, and tried cleverly, to
lead us away to lighter, pieasanter themes, the attempt was
a failure; each felt, 1 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 mankind, grown to suspect
every one and disbelieve in honesty, and yet could not bring his
Od'i THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
heart to acknowledge wliat his head had determiued. In this
■wise, at least, I read his character from the opportunities 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 droj^ped 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; had possessed mines and vast tracts of territory,
one day, and, the next, saw himself ' without a piastre.' He
had conducted operations against the Indians, and made treatiss
with them, and latterly had lived as the elected chief of a tribe'
in the west of the Rocky Mountains. But he 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 Rome, and the
intrigues of its prince-bishops. The only theme, however, on
which he really warmed was sport. The prairies bi'ought out
all his enthusiasm, and then he spoke like one carried away by
glorious recollections 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. Whei'eas,
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 display.
" 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 px'ofound 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 unfavourably with the savage, but he
was too keen and acute for such a sweeping fallacy ; he saw the
good and evil in both, and sensibly remarked how independent
of all education were the really strong characteristics 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 West, nor is there an excellence of savage nature I have
not witnessed amidst the polished and the pampered.'
A LETTER FROM MASSING E RED. 633
"From what I can collect, be is ouly here passingly; some
family matter has brought him over to this country; but he is
already impatient to be back to his old haunts and associates,
and his home beside the Orinoco. He has even ashed me to
come and visit him there ; and from all I can see I should be as
likely to attain distinction among the Chaymas as in the 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 invitation; and if he renew it with any-
thing like earnestness, I am resolved to go.
"I am jusi; setting* out for the Hendersons, and while the
horses are being harnessed I have re-read your letter. Of
course I have 'counted the cost' — I have weighed the question
to a pennyweight ! I could already write down the list of those
who will not know me at all, those who will know me 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
niooring-ground was never good ? The society to which you
belong by such slender attachments gives no wound by separa-
tion from it.
" My anxiety now is on a very different score : it is, that she
will still refuse me. The hope I cling to is, that she will see in
my persistence a proof of sincerity. I would not, if I could,
bring any family 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 ; that vein of
sarcastic coolness which runs through it will never turn me
from my purpose. You 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 )'ou
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, Harrj^ 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, I have it before me in the fact that a man like yourself,
well-born, young, rich, and high-hearted, should place the
judgments and prejudices of half a dozen old tabbies of either
634 THE MARTENS OF CRO' MARTIN.
sex above all the promptings of a noble ambition — all the
sentiments of a generous devotion. Your starling cry of ' the
Stewai-d's daughter,' then, does not deter, it only determines
the purpose
" Of yours faithfully,
" Jack Massingbred.
"You'll see by the papers that I have accepted the Chiltern
Hundreds. This is the first step — now for the second I "
A DINNER AT "THE LODGE." 635
CHAPTER LXir.
A DINNER AT "tHE LODGE."
While the Morning Post of a certain day, some twenty years
ago, was chronicling the illustrious guests who partook of his
Majesty's hospitalities at Windsor, the Dublin Evening 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
announcement. Our dramatis personoe, in this wise, are limited ;
and after the accustomed names of the Lord Chancellor and
Mrs, Dobbs, the Master of the Rolls and Mrs. Wiggins, Colonel
Somebody of the 105th, Sir Felix and Miss Slasher, you invari-
ably 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 recorded 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 con-
cern, 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
a stamp to attach any great prize to the distinction, he was well
aware that the recognition was intended as an honour ; the
more, when 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, his 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 conversant with the world and its ways, daily
brought into contact with the business of life, his social manner
636 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
remained pretty nearly the same cold, awk^Yard, and diffident
thing 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 for-
midable, either on the score of station or ability. A few bar
celebrities with their wives, an eccentric dean with a daughter,
a garrison colonel or two, three country squires, and a doctor
from Merion-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 be-
came tlie favoured guests of vicei'oyalty. It is scarce necessary
to say it was, as regards agreeability, inferior to either. There
was not the 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 Rcckington had come over to Ireland to
"inaugurate," as the newspapers called it, a new policy; that
is, he was to give to the working of the relief bill an extension
and a significance whicli few either of its supporters or opposers
in parliament ever contemplated. The inequality of the
Romanist before the law he might have borne; social depre-
ciation was a heavier evil, and one quite intolerable. Now, as
the change to the new system required considerable tact and
address, they entrusted the task to a most accomplished and
well-bred gentleman, and were Ireland only to be won by
dinner-parties. Lord Reckington 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 own 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 amount 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 viceroy. 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 be-
stowed on all around him ; but they were all of the man himself
— his very instincts — his nature.
A DINNER AT "THE LODGE." 637
It had apparently been amongst his excellency's instructions
from his government to seek ovit such rising men of the Roman
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 covild not be supposed that a party long proscribed,
long estranged from all participation 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 to office. It
was rare indeed to tind one who, with the highest order of
abilities, was satisfied to follow a profession whose best rewards
were denied him. Such was Joseph Nelligan when he was first
" called," and such he continued to the very hour we nov;- 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 how he came by
his "law."
Mr. M'Casky, the Castle law adviser, an old recruiting Ser-
jeant of capacities, vho had " tipped the shilling " to men of
every party, had whispered his name to the under-secretary,
who had again repeated it to the vicei'oy. He was, as M'Casky
said, "the man they wanted, with talent enough to confront the
best of the ojoposite party, and wealthy 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.
For the magic influence of that manner which we have men-
tioned 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 sometliing
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 con-
curred 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 " Nelligan," the spell was
complete,
Oh dear! when we torture our brains to legislate for apothe-
caries, 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 v/e never think of those far more
638 THE MARTINS OF CBO' MARTIN.
Bubtle elements of which great people are the dispensers —
flatteries more soothing than chloroform, smiles more lulling
than poppy-juice! Imagine poor Nelligan under a course of
this treatment, dear reader; fancy the delicious poison as it
insinuates itself through his veins, and if j'ou 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 Nelligan'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 yov,"
Nelligan's cheek was in a flame ; pride and shame were both
there, 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
embarrassed. Some one mentioned to me, the other day, that
the heir will not succeed to even a fourth of the old property."
" I have heard even worse, my lord," said Nelligan. " There
is a rumour that he is left without a shilling."
" How very shocking ! They are connexions of my own ! "
said the viceroy ; as though what he said made the misery attain
its climax.
" I am aware, my lord, that Lady Dorothea is related to your
excellency, and I am surprised you have not heai'd the stories
I allude to."
" But perhaps I am incorrect," said the marquis. " It may
be that I have heard them ; so many things pass through one's
ears every day. But here is Colonel Massiugbred; he's sure to
know it. Massingbred, we want some news of the Martins —
the Martins of — what is it called ? "
" Cro' 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 writes from Oughterard."
Nelligan stood, scarcely breathing, with impatience to hear
the tidings.
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 disturbances on the Martin property. It would
A DmXER AT " THE LODGE." 639
appear that Mei'l — 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 across 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 villify
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 emploj^ed by Merl to serve notices on the
tenantry ; but I believe that the outrages have really gone no
further than such maltreatment as Irishmen like to give, and
are accustomed to take.' "
Here his excellency laughed heartily, and Joe Nelligan
looked grave.
Massingbrcd read on : " ' Without being myself a witness to
it, I never could have ci'edited the almost feudal attachment of
these people to an "Old House." The Radical party in tho
borough ai'e, for the moment, proscribed, and dare not show
themselves in the streets ; and even Mag'ennis, who so lately
figured as an enemy to the Martins, passed through the town
this morning with his wife, with a great banner flying over his
jaunting-cai', 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 hui'ricane as few ever remember.
Such an act, amidst such a people, is sure of its reward. The
peasantry woiild, to a man, lay down their lives for her; and
coming critically, as the incident did, just when a new pro-
prietor was about to enforce his claim, you can fancy the added
bitterness it imparted to their spirit of resistance. I sincerely
trust that the magistrates will not accede to the 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, particularly when the right negotia-
tor is employed. I mean, therefore, to go over and speak to
Mr. Nelligan, who is the only man of brains amongst the
magistrates here.' "
" A relative, I presume," said his excellency.
*' My father, my lord," replied Joe, blushing.
"Oh! here is the result of his interview," said Massingbred,
640 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
turning to the foot of the page: "Nelligan quite agreed in the
view I bad taken, and said the people would assuredly disarm,
and perhaps destroy any force we could send against them.
He is greatly puzzled what course to adopt, and when I sug-
gested the propriety of invoking Miss Martin's aid, told me
that this is oat 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 complication,
for she is, perhaps, the only one who could exert a great
influence over the excited populace. In any other country it
might i-ead strangely, that it was to a young lady men should
have recourse in a moment of such peril ; but, this is like no
other country ! the people like no other people ! the young lady
herself, perhaps, like no other young lady ! ' "
By a scarcely pei'ceptible movement of his head, and a very
slight change of voice. Colonel Massingbred intimated to the
viceroy that there was something for his private ear, and
Lord Reckington stepped back to hear it. Nelligan, too deeply
occupied in his own thoughts to remark the circumstance,
stood in the same place, silent and motionless.
" It is to this passage," whispered the seci'etary, " I want to
direct your excellency's attention: 'All that I see here,' my son
writes — 'all that I see hei^e is a type of what is going on, at
large, over the island. Old families uprooted, old ties severed ;
the 23eoplc, with no other instinct than lawlessness, hesitating
which side to take. Their old leaders only bent upon the
political, have forgotten the social struggle, and thus, the
masses are left without guidance or direction. It is my firm
conviction that the Church of Rome will seize the happy
moment to usurp an authority thus unclaimed, and the priest
.step in between the landlord and the demagogue; and it is
equally my belief that you can only retard, not prevent, this
consummation. If you should be of mj/ opinion, and be able to
induce his excellency to think with us, act promptly and
decisively. Enlist the Roman Catholic Laity in your cause
before you be driven to the harder compact of having to deal
with the clergy. And first of all, make — for fortunately
you have the vacancy — make young Nelligan your solicitor-
general.' "
The viceroy gave a slight start, and smiled. He had not, as
yet, accustomed his mind to such bold exercise of his patronage.
He lived, however, to get over this sensation.
"My son," resumed Massingbred, "argues this at some
A DINNER AT "THE LODGE," 641
length. If yoti permit, I'll leave the letter in your excellency's
hands. In fact, I read it very hurriedly, and came over here
the moment I glanced my eyes over this passage."
His excellency took the letter, and tumied to address a word
to Joe NelHgan, but he had left the spot.
" Belcour," said the viceroy, " tell Mr. Nelligan I wish to
speak to him. I shall be in the small drawing-i'oom. I'll talk
■with him alone. Massingbred, be ready to come when I shall
send for you."
The viceroy sat alone by the fire, pondering over all he had
heard. There was indeed that to ponder over, even in the
brief, vague description of the writer. " The difficulties of
Ireland," as it was the fashion of the day to call them, were
not such as government commissions discover, or blue books
desci'ibe ; they lay deeper than the legislative lead-line ever
reaches — many a fathom down below statutes and Acts of
Parliament. They were in the instincts, the natures, the blood
of a people who had never acknowledged themselves a con-
quered nation. Perhaps his excellency lost himself in specula-
tions, mazy and confused enough to addle deeper heads.
Perhaps he was puzzled to think how he could bring the
Cabinet to see these things, or the importance that j)ertaiued to
them: who knows? At all events time glided on, and still he
was alone. At length the aide-de-camp appeared, and with an
air of some confusion said,
"It would appear, my lord, that Mr. Nelligan has gone
away."
" Why, 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 thoug-h 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,
Belcour?"
"Very strange indeed, your excellency," said the other,
bowing.
"There could have been no disrespect in it," said his lordship,
good-humouredly ,' ^^ o^ that I'm quite certain. Send Colonel
Massingbred here."
" He's gone off, Massingbred," said the viceroy, as the other
appeared.
" So I have just learned, my lord. I conclude he was not
aware — that he was unacquainted with "
42
642 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" Oh, of course, Massingbred," broke in the viceroy, Taugli-
ing, " the fault is all with my predecessors in office ; they never
invited these men as they ought to have done. Have you
sounded M'Casky as to the appointment ? "
" Yes, m}' lord ; he thinks ' we might do worse.' "
"A qualified approval, certainly. Perhaps he meant we
might select himself! "
" I rather opine, my lord, that he regards Nelligan's pro-
motion as likely to give offence to Mr. O'Connell, unless that he
be himself consulted upon it,"
"Then comes the question, Who is it governs this country.
Colonel Massiugbred ?" said the marquis, and for the first time
a flash of angry meaning darkened his cheeks. " If I be here"
— he stopped and hesitated ; — " if you and I be here only to
ratify appointments made by irresponsible individuals — it" we
hold the I'eins of power only to be told where we're to drive to
— I must own the office is not very dignified, nor am I patient
enoug'h to think it endurable."
" M'Casky only suggested that it might be advisable to see
O'Connell on the subject, not, as it were, to pass him over in
conferring the appointment."
"I cannot at all concur in this view, Massingbred," said the
marquis, proudly ; " there could be no such humiliation in the
woi4d as a patronage administered in this wise. Write to
Nelligan — write to him to-night: say that his abrupt departure
alone prevented my making to him pei'sonally the offer of the
solicitorship ; add, that you have my directions to place the
office in his hands, and express a strong wish, on your own part,
that he maj^ not decline it."
ilassingbred bowed in acquiescence, and, after a pause, his
excellency went on.
" Thei'e 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 shai'e ; that his acknowledged eminence at
the bar — a character to which even political opponents bear
honourable testimony — in fact, Massingbred," added he, im-
patiently, "if the appointment should 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. Yon understand me ? "
** I think so, my lord," said Massingbred, and withdrew.
If it were not that other cares and other interests call us
away, we would gladly linger a little longer to speculate on the
viceroy's thoughts as he reseated himself by the fire. Hi«
A DETNER AT "tHE LODGE." 645
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 ? Was his pride the ruling sen-
timent of the moment, — or did there enter into his calculations
the subtle hope of all the eager expectancy this appointment
would create, all the disposable venality it would lay at his
discretion ? Who 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 him, for when he rejoined his company his
manner was more absent, his courtesy less easy than usual.
At length Mr. M'Casky came forward to say good night.
" Colonel Massingbred has told you of those disturbances in
the west, has he not ? " asked the viceroy.
'■ Yes, my lord," replied the other.
"And what opinion — what advice did you give? "
" To let matters alone, my lord ; to be always a little behind
time, particularly in sending a force. 'Never despatch the
police to quell a riot,' said John Toler, ' unless one of the
factions be completely beaten, otherwise you'll have them
both on your back ;' and I assure your excellency, Ireland has
been very successfully governed under that maxim for years
past."
"Thank you, M'Casky; thank you for the advice," aaid his
excellency, laughing, and wished him good night.
644 THE MARTINS Oi' CEO' MARTIN.
CHAPTER LXTIL
ANHO^fOUREDGUEST.
It was a time of unusual stir 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, clear voice
called out,
" Morrissy, are my rooms ready ? "
"No, indeed, Mr. Repton," stammered out the abashed
landlord ; " the house is full ; there's not a spot in it to put a
child in."
" Yon got my letter, I suppose ? " said Repton, angrily.
"I did, sir, but it was too late; the whole house was engaged
by Mr. Scanlan, and the same evening the comj)any arrived in
two coaches-and-four."
"And who is the precious company you speak of? "
"Mr. Merl, sii'," said the 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 "
"Well, what is to be done? where can I be accommodated? "
broke in Repton, 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.
Repton broke open the seal impatiently, and read :
an honoured guest. 645
" My dear Mr. Repton,
"I regret that you'll find the inu full on your ai'rival; 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 favour if you will accept
the shelter of his roof, and in hopeful anticipation of your
consenting", he will wait dinner for your arrival. From my
own knowledge, I can safely assure you that the offer is made
in a spirit of true hospitality, and I sincerely wish that you
may accept it.
" Yours very faithfully,
'' J. Massingbred."
" Where does Mr. Nelligan live ? " asked Repton, as he re-
folded the letter.
" Just across the street, sir. There it is."
" Set me down there, then," said Repton. And the next
moment he was at Nelligan'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 Nelligan, 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 Nelligan conducted his guest to his room, he mentioned
that Massingbred had ridden over to Cro' Martin early in the
morning, but would be certainly back for dinner.
" And what's the news of Miss Martin ? Is she better ? "
" They say not, sir. The last accounts are far from favour-
able."
" 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 ? "
" Yes, 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. Nelligan went ever the next morning to
646 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
the 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. Nelligan seen her since that?"
" She never left her — never quitted her. She relieves Hen-
derson's daughter in watching beside her bed, for the old house-
keeper 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 Martin himself so happy and
light-hearted ; his dear girl, as he called her, full of life and
spirits. Your son was 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 inflicted on my learned
"brother's face."
" Joe told me of it afterwards."
*' Ah, he told you, did he ? He doubtless remarked with
asperity on the little sense of my own dignity I possessed ? "
" On the contrary, sir, he said, ' Great as are Mr. Reptou's
gifts, and brilliant as are his acquirements, I envy him more
the happy buoyancy of his nature than all his other quali-
ties.' "
" 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 that pertain to temperament, there
is not one to compare with the spirit that renews in an old man
the racy enjoyment of youth, keeps his heart fresh and his
mind hopeful. With 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 enjoyment life affords
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
admiration. Somehow, it was not altogether the man he had
expected, but he was far from being disappointed at the
difference. The Valentine Repton of his imagination was a
crafty pleader, 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 Nelligan was himself essentially a worldly man,
AN HONOURED GUEST. 647
he was touched by these traits of one Avhom he had regarded as
a hardened old law er, distrustful and suspicious.
"Ay, sir," said Repton, as, leaning on the other's arm, he
entered the drawing-i'oom — " a wiser man than either of us has
left it on record, that after a long life and much experience of
the world, he met far more of good and noble qualities in man-
kind 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 Dote, which Nelligan having read, handed over
to Repton. It was very brief, and ran thus :
" My dear Mr. Nelligan,
" Forgive my not appearing at dinnei', and make my excuses
to Mr. Repton, if he be with you, for I have just fallen in with
Magennis, who insists on carrying me off to Barnagheela. You
can understand, I'm sure, that there are reasons why I could
not well decline this invitation. Meanwhile, till to-morrow, at
breakfast,
**I am yours,
"Jack Massingbred."
If there was a little constraint on Nelligan's part at finding
himself alone to do the honours to his distinguished guest, the
feeling soon wore away, and a frank, hearty confidence was
soon established between these two men, who, up to the present
moment, had been following 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 Repton'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 charactei'S as the con-
sequence 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 genti-y, 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 sentiment.
648 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Nelligan was quick enough to see that these opinions of his
were not shared by his guest, and said, "I cannot expect, Mr.
Repton, 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 — educate your children — send them
to the universities with our own — teach them our ways, our
instincts, our manners, and yet, at the end of all, you shall
remain exactly where you began. You shall never be ' of us.' "
" I am happy to say that I disagree with you," said Repton ;
" I am a much older man than you, and I can draw, therefore,
on a longer experience. Now the change that 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 dis-
coveries around us in steam and electricity. Why, sir, the man
who now addresses you, born of an ancient stock, as good
blood as any untitled gentleman of the land, was treated once
as Jack Cade might be in a London drawing-i'oom. The repute
of liberal notions or politics at that day stamped you as a
democrat and atheist. If you sided with a jDopnlar measure,
you were deemed capable of all the crimes of a ' Danton.'
" Do I not remember it ! — Ay, as a student, young, ardent, and
high-hearted, when I was summoned before the visitors of the
university, and sternly asked by the dark-browed Lord Chancellor
if I belonged to a society called the ' Friends of Ireland,' and
on my acknowledging the fact, without inquiry — without ex-
amination, deprived of my scholarship, and sent back to my
chambers, admonished to be more cautious, and menaced with
expulsion. I had very little to live on in those days; ray
family had suflTered great losses in fortune, and I disliked to be
a burden to them, I took pupils, therefore, to assist me in my
support. The vice-provost stepped in, however, and interdicted
this. ' Young men,' he said, ' ran a greater chance of coming
out of my hands followers of Paine than disciples 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 fer
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
AN HONOURED GDEST, '649
cause — 1 forget what — a suit about some petty bill of ex-
change. I disputed the evidence, and sought to show its
invalidity; the Chief Justice stopped me, and said: 'The
Court is aware of the point on which you rely ; we have known
evidence of this nature admitted in cases of trial for treason —
cases with which Mr. Repton, 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 scorn and reproba-
tion. ' It is true, my lord,' said I, with a slow, measured
utterance, ' I am familiar with such cases. 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 would charge against
me, sentence, 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 brow-
beating judge could crush the bar; nor were the jury always
safe in the sanctuary of the jury-box. Kow, such abuses are no
longer in existence, and if we have made no oth'er stride in
progress, even that is considerable."
" In all that regards the law and its administration, I am
sure you are correct. Sir," said Nelligau, submissively.
" At the period I speak of," resumed Repton, who now was
only following out his own thoughts and reminiscences, " the
judges were little else than prefects, administering the country
throuo-h 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 their ignorance, why. Sir,
Crookshank, who 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 ! Yes, 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
fellovy, and had once stolen a saddle from the foreman.' You
talk of law and civilisation, why, I tell you, Sir, that the
barbaric code of the red man is a higher agent of enlighten-
ment than the boasted institutions of England, when thus
perverted and degraded. No, 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
650 ™E MARTINS OF CEO MARTIN.
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 much to be pitied as when the aspect of their social
condition is picturesque ! "
Repton fell into a musing' fit when he had finished these
observations, 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 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 Repton. " You
are awai'e of the circumstances under which he claims the
estate ? "
" I had it from Brierley, who was told by Scanlan that he
purchased, or rather won at play, the entire and sole rever-
sion."
Repton nodded.
"And such is a legal compact, I presume?" said Nelligan.
" If the immoral obligation be well concealed in the negotia-
tion, I don't see how it is to be broken. The law, sir," added
he, solemnly, " never undertakes the charge of fools till a com-
mission 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 could appreciate his
intentions."
"Massiugbred told me, however, that some arrangement,
some compromise was in contemplation ; that Merl, knowing
that to enforce his claim would 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
affaii" might possibly be accommodated."
" The Jew possibly sees, too, that an Irish succession is not a
bloodless triumph. He has been frightened, 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,"
AN HONOURED GUEST, 651
"I'd have given fifty pounds to be in at it," broke out
Kepton. Then suddenly remembering that the aspiration did
not sound as very dignified, he hemmed and corrected himself,
saying, " It must, indeed, have 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,
Mageunis joined the chase; he 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 thi-ew his rider into the stream. Scanlan dismounted and
gathered him up, discharging his pistol at some country fellow
who was rushing forward ; they say the man has lost an eye.
They got off, however, and gaining the shelter of the Cro'
Martin wood, they managed to escape at 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 Merl, and Scanlan
only goes out with an escort of police."
" All this sounds very like ' sixty years ago,' " said Repton,
laughing.
" I'm afraid it does, and I half dread what the English
newspapers may say under the heading of ' Galway Bar-
barities.' "
"By Jove! I must say I like it; that is," said Repton,
hesitating 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. It 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 Repton. " 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
possession 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 enforching your claim against the
natives? Now, for all the purposes of argument, to this
cockney's appreciation, these countrymen of ours are Africans."
652 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" I can well understand bis terror," said Nelligau, thought-
fully. " I'm sure the yell tliat followed him through 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 "
"What of liim? What did lie do? " broke in Repton, with
great eagerness,
" He stood upon an old wall, and hurrahed the people on,
calling out, ' Five gold guineas to the man who will hurl that
fellow into the lake,' "
" He said that ? " cried Repton.
" 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.
" Some say, a returned convict — a banker that was transported
thirty years ago for forgery; others, that he is Con O'Hara, that
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 stairs "
" Oh, then, you have seen him yourself? "
" Yes ; he came in on Monday last and asked for some glazed
gunpowder, and if we had bullets of a large mould to fit his
pistols. They were curiosities in their way ; they were made in
America, and had a bore large as your thumb."
"You had some conversation with him ? "
" A few words about the country and the crops. He said he
thought we had good prospects for the wheat, and, if we should
have a fine harvest, a good winter was like to follow. Meaning
that, with enough to eat, we should have fewer outrages in the
dark nights, and by that I knew he wus 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 your affairs ;
please, then, to pay the same deference to me and mine.' And
before I could reply he was gone."
"It was a rude speech," said Repton, thoughtfully ; "but many
men are morose from circumstances, whose natures are full of
kindliness and gentleness."
AN HONOURED GUEST. 653
" It waa precisely the impi^ession this stranger made upon me.
There was that in his manner which implied a hard lot in life —
no small share of the shadiest side of fortune ; and even when
his somewhat coarse rebuke was uttered, I was more disposed
to be angry with myself for being the cause, than with him wha
made it."
" Where is he 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 few days I have not seen him. Perhaps he has
heard of Scanlan's intention to summons him for aiding and
abetting an assauK, and has kept out of the way in conse
quence."
"/fe keep out of the way ! " cried Repton; "you never mis-
took a man more in your life ! "
" You are acquainted with him, then ? " said K"elligan, in
Jmazement.
" That am I, sir. No one knows him better, and on my know-
ledge of the man it was that I apologised for his incivility to
yourself. If I cann fc say more, Mr. Nelligan, it is not because
I have any mistrubfc 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 obser-
vation "
" I promise you to do so," broke in Repton. " I pi'omise you
still more, that before he 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. Nelligan, that good men's good opinions of us form
the pleasantest store of our reminiscences, and I'd willingly go
a hundred miles to remove a misconception that might bring
me back to the esteem of an honourable heart, though I never
were to set eyes again on him who possessed it."
" I like your theory well, sir," said Nelligan, cordially.
"You'll find the practice will reward you," said Repton.
" 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
^4 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
once or twice to himself; and then stai'ting abruptly, said, "You
have made me so cordially welcome here, that I am goiugf to
profit by every privilege of a guest. I'm going to say good
night, for I have much before me on the morrow."
HOW DIPLOMACY FAELE!), 655
CHAPTER LXIV.
EOW DIPLOMACY FAILED.
Repton 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, " Massingbred, is that you ? "
" Ah, Mr. Repton, are you stirring so early ? I had not
expected to see you for at least two hours to come. May I join
you?"
" By all means ; at once," was the answer. And the next
moment they were together. " Where's Barry ? When did
you see him last? " was Repton's first question.
"For a moment, on Tuesday last; he came up here to learn
if you had arrived, or when you mig-ht be expected. He seemed
disappointed when I said not before the latter end of the week,
and muttered 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 offered to go back with him to Kil-
kieran, but he stopped me short, saying, ' I am not at Kil-
kieran ; ' 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 yoa on arriving ; but to deliver it with
my own hand, as, if any reply were necessary, I should be ready-
to cari'y it to him. This is the letter."
Repton read it rapidly, and then walking to the window, stood
pondering over the contents.
" You know this man Merl, don't you, Massingbred ? " asked
B/epton.
G56 THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
"Yes, thoroughly."
" The object of this letter is to try one last chance for an
arrangement. Barry suspects that the Jew's ambition for Irish
pi'oprietorship may have been somewhat dashed by the ex-
perience of the last few days; that he will be likely enough to
weigh the advantages and disadvantages with a juster appre-
ciation, and if he had never come here, and, if such be the case,
we are ready to meet 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 trans-
actions ; 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 ; he'll 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
knowledge of the Herman Merl class may be greater than
yours. It is the one solitary point in the realm of information
wherein I am pi'obably your superior."
" There are others, and of a very different order, in which I
would own you the master," said Repton. " But to our case.
Suppose — a mere supposition if you like — but suppose that it
could be demonstrated to Mr. Merl 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
offer is made to avoid a publicity and exposure, far more in-
jurious to him than to those who now shrink from it. What
think you then ? "
" Simply that he'd not believe it ! He'd say, and many others
would say, ' If the right lay so incontestably 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 Repton, half tartly.
" Not if Mr. Repton 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 othei^'s hand cordially; "you deserve, and shall
have my fullest confidence."
" May I ask," said Jack, " if this offer to buy off Merl be
HOW DE'LOMACT FAILED. 657
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 ? "
"You'll have to take vuj word for that," said Repton, "or
rather, to take the pai't I assume in this transaction as the evi-
dence 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 fnlnien' that I'll bring up; nor will I, as Pelham
said, five with ' government powder,' My cannon shall be in-
scribed, 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 man, as, stimulated by his
words, he paced the room ; but there was a sincerity and a reso-
lution about him that offered no scope for ridicule. His very
features wore a look of intrepidity that bespoke the courage
that animated him.
" Now, 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."
"You cannot suppose that I exact this confidence?" began
Jack.
" I only know it is your due, sir," said Repton. " Go now — •
it is not too early ; see this man, and let the meeting be of the
briefest, for if I were to tell you my own mind, I'd say I'd
rather he should reject our offer."
"You 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'll wait breakfast for you," said Repton, as he reseated
himself to his work.
Repton requested Mi\ Nelligan's 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
43
658 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
to and fro in his chamber, each moment adding to the mieasi-
ness that he felt.
"Who was it that arrived half an hour ago?" asked he of
the servant.
"Mr. Joe, sir, the counsellor, has just come from Dublin, and
is at breakfast vpith the master."
" Ah ! he's come, is he ? So much the better," muttered
Repton, " 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, Val Repton is ready to meet
him ! " And the old man crossed his arms, and stood erect, in
all the consciousness of his undiminished 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 himself, it was the bland semblance
of equanimity he could assume in circumstances of difficulty
and irritation. It was his boast to be able to hide his most
intense emotions at moments of passion, and there was a
period in which, indeed, he wielded this acquirement. Of later
times, however, he had grown more natural and impulsive; he
had not yet lost the sense of pain tliis yielding occasioned, and
it was with evident irritation that he found Repton had read
his thoughts.
"You perceive, then, that I am unsuccessful?" said he, with
a faint smile. " So much the better if my face betrays me ; it
will save a world of explanation ! "
" Make your report, sir, and I'll make the tea," said Repton,
as he proceeded to that ofiice.
" The fellow was in bed — he refused to see me, and it was
only by some insistance that 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
Tery 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
HOW DIPLOMACY FAILED. 659
investment, lie'd rather have purchased Guatemala bonds, or
Santa Fe securities.
" ' Then I have come fortunately,' said I, ' for I bring you an
offer to reimburse all your outlay, and to rid you of a charge
so little to your inclination.'
'"Oh! you do, do you?' said he, with one of his cunningesfc
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 sur-
render your compact when the houi- 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 I'evelations. There were various
incidents of the play-table, feasible and successful enough after
a supper with champagne, and in the short hours 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 were both
remarkably candid with each other, and while I reminded Jiim
of some dark passages at ecarte, he brought to my memoiy
■certain protested bills and dishonoured notes that ' non jucun-
dum esset meminisse." 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 g'raced a
better cause, and I defy the world to produce two men who
could have exchanged the epithets of swindler and scamp with
more thorough calm and good manners. Unhappily, however,
high as one rises in his own esteem by such contests, he
scai'cely 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 hope, I should have maintained my
temper to the end, had not the fellow pretty broadly insinuated
that some motive of personal advantage had prompted my
interference, and actually pushed his insolence so ftxr as to
insinuate that 'I should make a better thing' by adhering to
his fortunes."
660 THE MARTINS OF CKO' MARTIN.
B-epton started at these words, and Massingbred resumtjd:
*'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, inasmuch as I should have tried what
change of air might have done for him, by pitching him out of
the window. He tugged violently at the bell-rope, as though
I were about to execute my menace, and so, I left him. My
diplomacy has, therefore, been a sad faiUire. I only hope that
I may not have increased the difficulty of the case by my treat-
ment of it."
" You never thought of me at all, then ? " asked Repton.
" Never, till I was once more in the street ; then, I re-
membered something of what you said about coercive means,
but of what avail a mere menace ? This fellow is not new to
such transactions — he has gone through all the phases of
' bulleydom.' 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 Repton, i"ising
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 Kilkieran, or the
neighbourhood : say we must meet at once ; arrange time and
place for the conference, and come back to me."
Repton issued his directions with an air of command, and
Massingbred prepared as implicitly to obey them.
"Mr. Nelligan has lent me his own pad," said Massingbred,
entering soon after, " and his son will accompany me, so that I
am at your orders at once."
" There are your despatches," said Repton," giving him a
sealed packet. " Let me see jou here as soon as ma^' be."
A GREAT DrSCOVERT 661
CHAPTER LXV.
A GREAT DISCOVERY.
About an hour after Massingbred's departure for Kllkieran,
Mr. Repton 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 pleasure
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 cai-es pressed upon him. He was travelling a road, too,
wliicli he had so often journeyed in high spirits, fancying to.
himself the pleasant welcome before him, and even rehearsing
to his own mind the stores of agreeability he was to display —
and now, it was to a deserted mansion, lonely and desolate, he
was turning ! Death and ruin both had done their work on.
that ancient family, whose very name in the land seemed
already hastening to oblivion !
Few men could resist the influence of depression better than
Repton. It was not alone that his temperament was still
buoyant and energetic, but the habits of his profession had
taught him the necessity of being prepared for emergencies,
and he would have felt it a dereliction of duty were his senti-
ments 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 remembered the very day, the very hour, poor
Martin had commenced the planting. There, was the little
trout-stream, where, under pretence of fishing, hs had lounged
along the 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
662 THE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN,
noiseless. As they came in sight of the Castle, Repton 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
forward to greet him.
" I got your note 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 Repton, 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 ! "
"Age has its penalties as well as its blessings, sir," said
Leslie, " and amongst these, is to outlive those dear to us ! "
There was a painful significance to his own desolate condition
that made these words doubly impressive.
Repton made no reply, but pulled the bell strongly, and the
loud, 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 de-
manded their business.
"Oh, I ax pardon, sir," said he, as suddenly correcting him-
self. "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 Di\ Leslie; "this
is Mr. Repton."
" Sure I know the counsellor well, sir," said Barney. " I'll
be down in a minute and open the door."
" I must go to work at once," said Repton, in a low and
somewhat broken voice, " or this place will be too much for
me. Every step I go is calling up old times and old scenes. I
had thought my heart was of sterner stuflP. 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.
While the man who conducted them opened the window-
shutters and the windows, Repton and his companion sat clown
without speaking. At last he withdrew, and Repton, rising,
said,
" Some of the happiest hours of my life were passed in this
^amevoom. I used to come up here after the fatigues of
A GREAT DISCOVERT. GC3
circuit, and, throwing- myself into one of those 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 Rhine — that Cockney heroism of Swiss
travel, is my aversion. The calm forenoon for thought, the
pleasant dinner-table for genial enjoyment, afterwards — these
are true recreations. And what evenings we have had here!
But I must not dwell on these." And now he threw upon the
table a 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 without a sufficient reason. I know
that, from certain causes, of which 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 j you, I am
well assured, will never remember them."
Leslie made a motion of assent, and the other went oii, 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 answers,
now, I have to request all your attention. They are of great
importance ; they msy, very probably, be re-asked of you under
more solemn circumstances ; and I have to bespeak, not aloiie,
all your accuracy for the replies, but that you may be able, it
asked, to state the manner and even the words in which I now
address you. — You 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 chai-ge."
"You knew the late Darcy Martin, father of the last
proprietor of this estate ? "
"Litimately."
"You baptised his two children, born at the same bir(h.
State what you remember of the circumstance."
"I was sent for to the Castle to give a private baptism to tlie
two infants, and requesting that I would bring the vestry-book
along with me for the registration. I did so. The children
were accordingly christened, and their birtlis duly registered
and witnessed."
" Can you remember the names by which they wore called ? "
"Not from the incident in question, though I know the
664 THE MARTINS OF CRO* MARTIN.
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 geld bracelet
on one arm ; but I did not remark it."
" You have this vestry-book in your keeping ? "
"No; Mr. Martin retained it, with some object of more
formal 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."
"You could, however, recognise it, and be able to verify your
signature ? "
" 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 obsei'ved. They were treated, so far as I
could perceive, precisely alike ; and their resemblance to each
other was then so striking, it would have 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 they gi'ew up, you came to recognise the eldest by his
name ? "
"Yes. Old Mr. Darcy Martin used to take the elder boy
more about with 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."
" You 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
A GREAT DISCOVERT. 665
of him in a tone of irritation and bitterness, which he did
employ towards the other."
" Mr, Martin died before his sons came of age ? "
"Yes; they were only nineteen at his death."
" 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 Forbes, of Lisvally,
that Martin's intentions about appointing him 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 retui'ned 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, when estrangement grew up between us, and at last
we ceased to visit at all."
" Were the brothers supposed to be on good terms with each
other ? "
" I have heard two opposite versions on that subject. My
own impression was that Lady Dorothea disliked Barry Martin,
who had made a marriage that was considered beneath him,
and then his brother was, from easiness of disposition, gradually
weaned of his old aiFection for him. Many thought Barry,
with all his faults, the better-hearted of the two."
" Can you tell what ultimately became of this Barry
Martin ? "
" I only know, from common report, that after the death of
his wife, having given his infant child, a girl, in charge to his
brother, he engaged in the service of some of the Southern
American Republics, 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 affection,
adding the words, 'I\)or Barry will befriend every one but
himself.' "
" 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
ari'ival."
Repton just reached the door as Mr. Nelligan drove up to it.
" All goes on well and promptly to-day," said the old lawyer.
666 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
" I have got throug-li 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 inquiiy.
Before I do so, however, I will entreat your attention to a
number of questions, and the answers to them, which will bo
read out to you. You will then be in a better position to judge
of any discovery which the present investigation may reveal.
All this sounds enigmatically enough, Mr. NelHgan, 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."
" Now, let me read it for Mr. Nelligan," said Repton ; and,
without further preface, recited aloud the contents of the
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 j'our ears. You knew before that Darcy Martin
had two sons; that they were twins; and that one of them,
Godfrey, inherited the estate. You may also have heard some-
thing 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.**
" That will do," said Repton, rising. " Now, gentlemen, I'm
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. Such, I
repeat, are the objects I expect to discover ; and it is in your
presence I proceed to this examination."
In some astonishment at his words, the others followed him
to the corner of the room, where, half concealed in the wains-
cot, a small door was at length discovered, unlocking which,
Repton and the others entered a little chamber, lighted by a
narrow, loopholed window. Not stopping to examine the
shelves, loaded with old documents and account-books, Repton
walked straight to a small ebony cabinet, on a bracket, opening
A GEE AT DISCOVEIIY. QQ7
which, he drew forth a square vellum-bound book, with massive
silver clasps.
*' The old vestry-book. I know it well," said Leslie.
" Here are the documents in parchment," continued Repton,
"and a sealed paper. What ai^e the lines in the corner, Mr.
Nelligan, your eyes are better than mine? "
" ' Agi'eement between Godfrey and Barry Martin. To be
opened by whichever shall survive the other.' The initials of
each are underneath."
"With this we have no concern," said Repton; "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, Incumbent and Vicar of the said parish, Barry and
Godfrey, sons of Darcy Martin and Eleanor his wife, both bora
on the fourth day of the aforesaid month ; and, for the better
discrimination of their priority in age, it is hereby added that
Barry Martin is the elder, and Godfrey the second son, to which
fact the following are attesting witnesses : Michael Keii'n, house-
steward, George Dorcas, butler, and Catherine Broon, maid of
still-room.' **
" Is that in your handwriting, sir ? " asked Repton.
"Yes, every word of it, except the superscription of the
witnesses."
" Why then it would appear that the eldest son never enjoyed
his rights," cried Nelligan. " Is that possible ? "
" It is the strict truth, sir," said Repton. " 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 own capinces 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
Nelligan,
" Simply his preference for the younger-born. No sooner
had the children arrived at that time of life when dispositions
display themselves, than he singled out Godfrey as his favour-
ite. He distinguished him in every way, and as markedly
showed that he felt little affection for the other. Whether
668 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
this favouritism, so openly expressed, had its influence on the
rest of the household, or that really they grew to believe that
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'a
school, at Oughterard, Godfrey was called the elder, and dis-
tinguished as such by a bit of red ribbon in his button-hole.
And thus they grew up to youth and manhood ; the one,
flattered, indulged, and caressed, the other, equally depreciated
and undervalued. Men are, in a great measure, what others
make them. Godfrey became proud, indolent, and overbearing;
Barry, reckless and a spendthrift. Darcy Martin died, and
Godfrey succeeded him as matter of course, while Barry, dis-
posing of the small property bequeathed to him, set out to seek
adventures in the Spanish Main.
" I am not able to tell, had you even the 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 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 Ci"o' 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
circumstances of no common pain, must now have occurred, for
one night Barry left the Castle, vowing never more to enter it.
Godfrey followed, 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 attached 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
A GREAT DISCOVERY, 669
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
eventful morning. I, however, am in a position to prove that
Barry declared 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 liow Lady Doi^othea's
passion was such that she alternately inveighed 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 the 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 that, in spite of herself, Lady Dorothea visited
the dislike she bore Barry on his daughter. It was a sense of
hate from the consciousness of a wrong — one of the bitterest
sources of enmity ! At all events, she showed her little affection
— no tenderness. Poor Godfrey did all that his weak and
yielding nature would permit to repair this injustice ; his con-
sciousness that to that girl's father he owed position, fortune,
station, everything, was ever rising up in his mind, and ui'ging
him to some generous effoi't 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
heart 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 received, came suddenly back to England. At first it
had not been his intention to revisit Ireland. There was some-
thing of magnanimity in the resolve to stay away : he would
not come back to impose upon his brother a renewal of that
G70 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
lease of gratitude lie derived from him ; lie would rather spare
Jiim 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 resent-
ments 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 Conne-
mara, decided him to go over there, and, under the name of
Mr. Barry, to visit the scenes of his youth.
"I have but to tell you that 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 unfilled, 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 than deserted — for one was left to struggle
alone against difficulties that the boldest and the bravest might
have shrank from. Had Barry Martin been like any other
man, he would at once have placed himself at her side. It was
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 the 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 daily duties, no impulse of affection ever
moved him to call her his daughter and bring her home to his
heart. I know not whether it was to afford him these occasions
of meeting hei% 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 straug'er. I
must hasten on. An accident, the mere circumstance of a note-
book dropped by some strange chance 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
A GREAT DISCOVERT. 671
himself, but I was, unfortunately, absent at the assizes. He
endeavoured next to see Scanlan. Scanlan was in London : he
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 the perilous condition of the
property in consequence, offered his aid to re-purchase the rever-
sion while it was yet time. To effect this bargain, Scanlan
hastened over to Baden, accompanied by Barr^-, who, however,
for secrecy sake, remained at a town in the neighbourhood.
Scanlan, it seems, resolved to profit by an emergency so full of
moment, and exacted from Lady Dorothea — for Martin was
then too ill to be consulted — the most advantageous terms for
himself, 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 indignity 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 all he said was, 'As I crushed it in my
hand, I clenched my fist to fell him to the ground ! but I re-
frained. I muttei'ed a word or two, and 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.'
" He is now back here once more ; come to insist upon his
long unasserted rights, and by a title so indisputable that it will
leave no doubt of the result.
" He is silent and uncommunicative ; but he has said enough
to show 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 confirmation of what you have seen this day."
" Then this was the same Mr. Barry of whom we spoke last
night? " said Nelligan, 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 Repton, as he
busied himself sealing up the vestry-book and the other docu-
ments. "These I mean to deposit in your keeping, Mr.
672 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
Nelligan, till they be called for. I have sent over IMassingbred
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.'*
Talking 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 cottage."
" You gave him the packet, then, and asked when we should
meet? " asked Repton, 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 what 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 Repton
so, and he'll feel for me ! ' "
Repton pressed his handkerchief to his face and turned away.
"I'm afraid," said Massingbred, "that her state is highly
dangerous. The few words the doctor dropped were full of
sei'ious meaning."
" Let us hope, and pray," said Repton, 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 bless,
ing, nor closed it but to shut a hope within."
▲ DAEK DAT. 67 S
CHAPTER LXVI.
A DARK DAY.
A MILD, soft clfiy, with low-lying clouds, and ricli odours of
wild flowers rising from the ground, a certain dreamy quiet per-
vading earth, and sky, and sea, over which faint shadows
lingered lazily ; some drops of the night dew still glittered on
the feathery larches, and bluebells hung down their heads,
heavy with moisture, so still the scene that the plash of the
leaping trout could be heard as he rose in the dai-k stream.
And yet thei'e 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, ex-
haustion, and even hunger were depicted on many of their faces.
Some had passed the nif ht there, others had come long dis-
tances, faint and footso/j; 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 learni;
nothing of her state; then, a few words whispered by old Catty
to those nearest the door told " that she was no better — if any-
thing, weaker ! " These sad tidings were soon passed from lip
to lip, and thus they spent the night, praying, or watching
wearily, their steadfast gaze directed towards that spot where
the object of all their fears and hopes lay suffering.
44
<}7-i- THE MARTINS OF CEO' MARTIN.
Of those there, there was scarcely one to whom she was not
endeared by some personal benefit. She had aided this one in
distress, the otlier she had nursed in fever; here, were the old
she had comforted and cheered; there, the children she had
taught and trained beside her chair. Her gentle voice yet
vibrated in every heart, her ways of kindness were in every
memory. Sickness and sorrow were familiar enough to them-
selves. Life was, at least to most of them., one long struggle ;
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 fortune 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 and movement in the multitude, a wavy,
surging motion, for the doctor was seen to issue from the stable-
yai'd, and lead his pony 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 ! "
A faint low cry burst from one in the crowd at this moment,
and the rumour ran that a woman had fainted. It was poor
Joan, who had come that night over the mountain, and over-
come by grief and exhaustion together, had at last given
way.
" Get a glass of wine for hei', or even a cup of water," cried
out three or four voices; and one nigh the door entered the
cottage in search of aid. The moment after a tall and hand-
some girl forced her way through the crowd, and gave direc-
tions that Joan might be carried into the house.
" Wliy did ye call her my lady? " muttered an old hag to one
of the 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! " muttei'ed
anothei".
"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 difficulty,
the poor creature came to herself, and gazing wildly around,
asked where she was ; then suddenly bursting out in tears, she
said —
" Sure, I know well where I am ; sure its my own self
A DARK DAT. 675
brought grief and sorrow under this roof. But for me, 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 the 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- sound, as if of voices, from within, and Kate turned
away and sat down on the stairs.
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 with her hand
clasped within that of a large and white-haired man at the
bedside.
" What a good, kind doctor," said she, faintly ; " I'm sure to
find you ever beside me when I awake."
" 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, ia a low, stern
voice.
** Is it Tuesday to-day ? " asked Mary, softly.
*' Yes, dear, Tuesday," said the old man.
" It was on Thursday my poor uncle died. Could I live till
Thursday, doctor?"
The old man tried to speak, but could not.
"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 — who 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
they'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 "
" Oh dear ! oh dear ! why won't you tell her ? " broke in
Catty. But a severe gesture from the old man again checked
her words.
"How that wild night at sea dwells in my thoughts! I
never sleep but to dream of it. Cousin Harry must not for£;et
676 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
those brave fellows. I have nothing to requite them with. I
make no will, doctor," said she, smiling, " for my only legacy is
that nosegay there. Will you keep it for my sake? "
The old man hid his face, but his strong frame shook and
quivered in the agony of the moment.
" Hush ! " said she, softly ; " I hear voices without. Who are
they"
"They're the country-people, darlin', come from Kiltimraon,
and beyond Kyle-a-Noe, to ax after you. They passed the
night there, most of them."
" Catty, dear, take care that you look after them, they will
be hungry and 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 theij 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, and 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 Avaves 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 gentleness and love — Kate, where is she ? No, do not call
her ; say that I asked for her — that I blessed hei' — 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 fi'equent, 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 houi-s, 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 drapery. Two mourning-coaches followed, and then,
the massive gates wei'e closed, and the sad pageant wound its
slow course through the demesne. At the same moment
another funeral was approaching the churchyard by a different
A DARK DAT. 677
road. It was a cofBn borne by men barebeaded and sorrow-
struck. An immense multitude followed, of everj rank and
age; sobs and sighs broke from them as they went. Not 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 Reptou : 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
pi^onounced "earth" had returned "to earth." A kind 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 mounds 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 un-
common form for grief to take in certain 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 accepts it as chastisement is both a braver and a better
man !
Repton 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 Repton, eagei'ly, "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.
Remember, he is poor 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 solitary mourner was
standing beside the other grave.
Barry Martin stood erect and motionless, while Repton spoke
to the young man. At first the words seemed to confuse and
.673 THE MAETINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
puzzle him, for he looked vaguely around, and passed his hand
across his brow in evident difficulty.
" Did you say here, in this country ? Do I understand you
aright?"
" Here, in this very spot ; there, standing now before you ! "
said Repton, as he pushed young Martin towards his uncle.
Barry held out his hand, which the young man grasped
eagerly ; and then, as if unable to resist his emotions longer,
fell, sobbing violently, into the other's arras.
" Let us leave them for a while," said Repton, 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 com-
plete.
" I'd not have known young Martin," whispered Nelligan in
Repton's ear ; " he looks full twelve years older than when last
I saw him."
"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 heaven knows what hearts they would be left
with ! "
While they thus talked, Massingbred and Joe Nelligan had
strolled away into the wood. Neither spoke. Massingbred
felt the violent trembling of the other's arm as it rested on his
own, and saw a gulping effort, by vv^hlch more than once he
suppressed his rising emotion. For hours they thus loitered
along, and at length, as they issued from the demesne, they
found Repton and Mr. Nelligan awaiting them.
" Barry Martin has taken his nephew back with him to the
cottage," said Repton, "and we'll not intrude upon them for
the rest of the evening.*
lEPTON'S LAST CAUSE. 679
CHAPTER LXVII.
eepton's last cause.
We have no right, as little have we the inclination, to inflict
our reader with the details by which Barry Martin asserted and
obtained his own, A suit in which young Martin assumed to
be the defendant 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 Repton ever held. Never
was his clear and searching intellect more conspicuous — never
did he display more logical acuteness, 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 unfitting
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 unembellished 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.
"Romance has its own way of treating such themes, but I
do not believe romance can add one feature to the simple fact of
this man's self-denial.
" We should probably be lost in our speculations as to the
noble motives of this sacrifice, if our attention was not called
away to something 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 ! Shame on the
680 THE MARTraS OF CRO MARTIN.
word. It is in truth and reality alone are such virtues inscribed.
Fiction cannot deal with the humble materials that make up
such an existence ; the long hours of watching by sickness — the
weary care of teaching the young — the trying disappointments
to hope bravely met by fresh efforts — the cheery encouragement
drawn from a heart exhausting itself to supply others. 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 consenting 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 beauty 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 hojie 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 conclusion was drowned in mingled expres-
sions of applause and sorrow ; and when Repton 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
Nelligan 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 Val Repton never again took his place in court, he did not
«ntirely abdicate his functions. Barry Martin had determined
bepton's last cause. G8I
on making a conveyance of the estate to his nephew, and the
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 Repton, with some little hesi-
tion, at last concurred in. He ui'ged 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 Repton, 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 individual 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 Repton, 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 iu
some grave charge, and if so, Jack's own intentions with
regard to the daughter would be burdened with fresh compli-
cations. "The steward" was bad enough, but if he turned out
to be the " unjust steward "
" I'll start for Galway 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 Repton, suddenly.
" Many things, my young fi-iend," said Repton. "If you will
delay your departure two days, since they are matters on which
I must insti'uct you personally."
Massingbred gave a kind of half-consent, and the other went
on to 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
682 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
day. Benefits are, after all, but sorry ties between man and
man. They may ratify the treaty of affection, they rarely in-
scribe the contract ! "
" Still Martin cannot but feel that to the noblest act of his
uncle'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 wonderfully little real good in this world — wonderfully little
that can stand the test of the very basest of all motives — mere
gain."
" Don't say so ! " cried Repton. " Men have far better natures
than yon 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 tempers, are in
exercise,"
"I scarcely can separate the two in my mind," said Jack,
doubtingly,
" 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
Repton, as he ran his eyes over it. " So-so ; just as I was say-
ing this minute, only that Barry has the good sense to see it
himself ' My nephew,' he writes, ' 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 conditions that might impair its value, I
mean to leave this at once.
" * I have had my full share of calamity since I set foot in this
land, and if this rugged old nature could be crushed by mere
kepton's last cause, 683
misfortune, the last two months might have done it. But no,
Repton, the years by which we survive friends serve equally to
make us survive affections, and we live on, untouched by time !
" ' I mean to be with you this evening. Let us dine alone
together, for I have much to say to you.
" * Yours ever,
" ' Barry Martin.
"'I hope I may see Massingbred before I sail. I'd like to
shake hands with him once again. Say so to him at all events.'
" Come in to-morrow to breakfast," said Repton ; " by that
time we'll have finished all mere business aflfairs." And Mas-
singbred having assented, they parted.
684 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTUf.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
TOWARDS THE END,
Repton was standing at his pai'lour window, anxiously await-
ing his friend's arrival, when the chaise with four posters came
to the door. "What 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, Repton," said the other. " I have
brought my daughter with me." Before Repton could master
his amazement at these words, she had thrown back her veil,
I'evealing the well-known features of Kate Henderson.
"Is this possible? — is this really the case?" cried Repton,
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 ? "
"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 ! "
" If 7/ow be grateful, what ought not to be my thankfulness ? "
said Kate, tremulously.
" Leave us for a moment together, Kate," said Bai'ry. And
taking Repton's arm he led him into an inner room.
" I have met with many a sore cut from fortune, Repton,"
said he, 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, indeed,
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
Btrong 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
TOWARDS THE END. 685
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 circum-
stances, save actual want, should she ever be reduced to earn
her own bread ; but if the sad hour did come, never — as had
been ber poor mother's fate — never as a governess ! It was in
that fearful struggle of condition I first knew her, I continued,
year after year, to hear of her ; remitting regularly the sums I
promised — doubling, tripling them, when fortune favoured me
with a chance prosperity. The letters spoke of her as well and
ha^ipy, in humble, but sufficient circumstances, 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 humble
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 hai'd struggle — to main-
tain my side of the compact, selling at ruinous loss acquisitions
it had cost me years of labour to obtain, this fellow, this Hen-
derson, 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 accomplishments, 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 through the perils of the
most dissipated society. Hear her own account of it, Repton.
Let her tell you what is the tone of that high life to which
foreign nobility imparts its fascinations. Not that I want to
make invidious compai-isons ; our own country sends its high
tributaries to every vice of Eui-ope ! I know not what accident
saved her amidst this pollution. Some fancied theory of popular
wrongs, she thinks, gave her a kind of factitious heroism ;
elevating her, at least to her own mind, above the frivolous
corruptions around her. She was a democrat, to rescue her
from being worse.
" At last came a year of unusual pressui'e ; my remittance
was delayed ; bat when sent was never acknowledged, From
that hour out, I never heard of her. How she came into my
brother's family, you yourself knew. What was her life there,
she has told me! Not in any spirit of complaint — nay, she
686 THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN,
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, Repton," 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 herself, 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 Repton, 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
called 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. fear-
less, Repton — two qualities that will do well enough in the wild
Savannahs of the New World, but would be unmanageable
gifts in the Old, and thither 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 Repton. " She is a noble creature, and worthy
of belonging to you."
" I ask for nothing more, Repton," said he, solemnly. " For-
tune 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 vast-
ncss of a landscape, where the earth seems boundless as the
sky, and whei-e, 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."
" There's some one knocking at the door," said Repton, as he
arose and opened it.
"A thousand pardons for this interruption," said Massingbred»
, .'^^^^"^l^"-
:x^
'^y?/ r:2^//^^^
TOWARDS THE END. G87
in a lew 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,
Massingbred," said Reptou, as he led him forward into the
room.
" I hope you are going to keep your pledge with me, though,"
said Barry. " Have j^ou 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 in love," said Repton. " Nay, prisoner, you. arp
not called on to say what may criminate you. I'll 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 take their rise in
the indolent voluptuousness of the old. Carry him off then, 1
say ; accept no excuses nor apologies. 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* l>.e 2h gone," added he, perceiving
that Martin had just quitted the room. "Poor fellow, lie 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 rightful-born child
to the first 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 Repton ; " no less shocked
should I be were she to to., me she was uncertain if she had
ever met Mr. Massingbred As Burke once remarked to me,
'Active intelligences, like appropriate ingredients in chemistry,
never meet without fresh combinations.' It is then a shame to
ignore such products. I'd swear that when you did meet you
understood each other thoroughly : agreed well — ay, and what
is more to the purpose, differed in the right places, too."
" I'm cex'tain we did," said Jack, smiling, " though I'm un-
grateful enough to forget all about it."
688
TEE MARTINS OF CRO MARTIN.
"Well," said Martin, entering-, "I have sent for anothet
advocate to plead my cause. My daughter will tell you, sir,
that she at least is not afraid to encounter the uncivilised glens
beside the Orinoco. Come in, Kate. You tell me that you and
Mr. Massing bred are old friends."
Massingbred started as he heard the name, looked up, and
there stood Kate before him, with her hand extended in
welcome.
" Good heavens ! what is this ? Am I in a dream ? Can
this be real ? " ci'ied Jack, pressing his hands to his temples,
and ti'embling from head to foot in the intensity of his
anxiety.
" My father tells me of an invitation he has given you, Mr.
Massingbred," 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 destined to eminence. The great debater, the
witty conversationalist, the smart reviewer, 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
eagerness, " and say, ' Come ? ' "
" Yes ! " said she. " Come i "
" I accept ! " cried Jack, rushing over, and grasping Martin's
bands between his own. " I'm ready — this hour, this instant,
if you like it."
"We find the prisoner guilty, my lords," said Repton ; "but
we recommend him to mercy, as his manner on this occasion
convinces us it is a first ofience."
******
******
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,
fs written in the Encumbered Estates Court. Captain Martin
only grew wiser by the especial expei'ienco of one class of
TOWARDS THE END. 689
difficulties. His indolent, easy disposition, and a taste for
expense led him once again into embarrassments, 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.
We cannot persuade ourselves that we 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 learn
how Kilkieran fared in the changes around it.
For Joseph Nelligan, however, we claim a parting word. He
was the first of an order of men who 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 indiscrimately
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 display and
popular declamation.
We do not vnsh to enquire how far the one great blow 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
Rocky Mountains, where he is now wandering with Barry
Martin, some sketches of Indian Life to the Irish Art-Ex-
hibition.
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 eai-ly mind. The Chief in his war paint has
a fac-simile likeness to his St. John in th-e 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 them-
selves, but we abstain. It is enough to say, that all the attrac-
45
C90 THE 3IARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.
tive prospects of ambition held out by friends — all the seductioiis
of generous offers from family, have never tempted them to
retm-n to the Old World ; but that they live on happily, far
away from the jarring collisions of life, the tranquil existence
they had longed for.
THE MS -J.
?BIHISD BY W. H, SMIIH AND SON, 186, BTB1.ND, LONDOS;
PS
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