*"''>''"y*t ■ ^.- LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY MRS. DONALD KELLOGG mOKTISPIECE /z^a -/zA^iy ^^ ^/^i/A^'/z/a-^ /^^" ^^'^^^' // ■A ^ jlX^ 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 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."