The parlor, _par excellence_, was a long, low-ceilinged chamber, with yellow-ochre walls, dimly lighted by two narrow windows; its furniture, a piece of ragged carpet beneath a rickety table of black mahogany, some half-dozen crazy chairs, and a small sideboard, surmounted by something that might mean buffet or bookcase, and now served for both, being indifferently garnished with gla.s.ses, decanters, and thumbed volumes, intermingled with salt-cellars, empty sauce-bottles, and a powder-flask.

An atrociously painted picture of an officer in scarlet uniform hung over the fireplace, surmounted by an infantry sword, suspended by a much-worn sash. These were the sole decorations of the room, to which even the great turf fire that blazed on the hearth could not impart a look of comfort.

It was now a little after nightfall; the shutters were closed, and two attenuated tallow candles dimly illuminated this dreary chamber.

A patched and much discolored tablecloth, with some coa.r.s.e knives and forks, bespoke preparation for a meal, and some half-dozen plates stood warming before the fire. But the room had no occupant; and, except for the beating of the shutters against the sash, as the wind whistled through the broken window, all was silent within it. Now and then a loud noise would resound through the house; doors would bang, and rafters rattle, as the hall-door would be partially opened to permit the head of a woman to peer out and listen if any one were coming; but a heavy sigh at each attempt showed that hope was still deferred, and the weary footfall of her steps, as she retired, betrayed disappointment. It was after one of these excursions that she sat down beside the kitchen fire, screening her face from the blaze with her ap.r.o.n, and then, in the subdued light, it might be seen that, although bearing many traces of sorrow and suffering, she was still young and handsome. Large ma.s.ses of the silkiest brown hair, escaping from her cap, fell in heavy ma.s.ses on her neck; her eyes were large and blue, and shaded by the longest lashes; her mouth, a little large, perhaps, was still beautifully formed, and her teeth were of surpa.s.sing whiteness. The expression of the whole face was of gentle simplicity and love,--love in which timidity, however, deeply entered, and made the feeling one of acute suffering. In figure and dress she was exactly like any other peasant girl, a gaudy silk handkerchief on her neck being the only article of a.s.sumed luxury in her costume. She wore shoes, it is true,--not altogether the custom of country girls,--but they were heavy and coa.r.s.ely made, and imparted to her walk a hobbling motion that detracted from her appearance.

A large pot which hung suspended by a chain above the fire seemed to demand her especial care, and she more than once removed the wooden cover to inspect the contents; after which she invariably approached the window to listen, and then came back sorrowfully to her place, her lips muttering some low sounds inaudibly. Once she tried to hum a part of a song to try and beguile the time, but the effort was a failure, and, as her voice died away, two heavy tears stole slowly along her cheeks, and a deep sob burst from her; after which she threw her ap.r.o.n over her face, and buried her head in her lap. It was as she sat thus that a loud knocking shook the outer door, and the tones of a gruff voice rose even above the noise; but she heard neither. Again and again was the summons repeated, with the same result; and at last a handful of coa.r.s.e gravel struck the kitchen window with a crash that effectually aroused her, and springing up in terror, she hastened to the door.

In an instant she had unhooked the heavy chain, and sheltering the candle with her hand, admitted a large powerfully built man, who was scarcely within the hall when he said angrily, "Where the devil were you, that you could n't hear me?"

"I was in the kitchen, Tom," said she.

"Don't call _me_ Tom, d----n you," replied he, violently. "Don't keep dinning into me the infernal fool that I've made of myself, or it will be worse for you."

"Sure I never meant any harm by it; and it was your own self bid me do it," said she, meekly, as she a.s.sisted him to remove his dripping great-coat.

"And don't I rue it well?" rejoined he, through his half-closed teeth.

"Isn't it this confounded folly that has shut me out of the best houses in the county? My bitter curse on the day and the hour I first saw you!"

"Oh, don't say them words,--don't, or you'll break my poor heart," cried she, clinging to him as he strode angrily into the parlor.

"Be off with you,--be off to the kitchen, and leave me quiet," said he, rudely.

"There 's your slippers, sir," said she, meekly, as, bending down, she untied his heavy shooting-shoes, and replaced them by a pair of list ones.

"Is the dinner ready?" asked he, sternly.

"It is, sir; but Ma.s.sin'bred is n't come back."

"And who the devil is Ma.s.singbred? Don't you think he might be Mister Ma.s.singbred out of _your_ mouth?"

"I ax your pardon, sir, and his, too; but I didn't mean--"

"There, there,--away with you!" cried he, impatiently. "I 'm never in a bad humor that you don't make me worse." And he leaned his face between his hands over the fire, while she slipped noiselessly from the room.

"Maybe he thinks he's doing me honor by staying here," burst he forth, suddenly, as he sprang to his legs and stared angrily around him. "Maybe he supposes that it's great condescension for him to put up with my humble house! Ay, and that it's _my_ bounden duty to wait for _him_ to any hour he pleases. If I thought he did,--if I was sure of it!"

added he, with a deep guttural tone, while he struck his clenched fist violently against the chimney-piece. Then, seizing the large iron poker, he knocked loudly with it against the back of the fireplace,--a summons quickly answered by the appearance of the girl at the door.

"Did he come in since morning?" asked he, abruptly.

"No, sir, never," replied she, with a half courtesy.

"Nor say what time he 'd be back?"

"Not a word, sir."

"Then, maybe, he's not coming back,--taken French leave, as they call it, eh, Joan?"

The sound of her name, spoken, too, in an accent of more friendly meaning, lighted up her face at once, and her large eyes swam in tears of grat.i.tude towards him as she stood there.

"But he 'd scarcely dare to do that!" said he, sternly.

"No, sir," said she, echoing half unconsciously his opinion.

"And what do _you_ know about it?" said he, turning savagely on her.

"Where were you born and bred, to say what any gentleman might do, at any time, or in anything? Is it Joan Landy, the herd's daughter, is going to play fine lady upon us! Faix, we 're come to a pretty pa.s.s now, in earnest! Be off with you! Away! Stop, what was that? Did n't you hear a shot?"

"I did, sir,--quite near the house, too."

A sharp knocking now on the hall-door decided the question, and Magennis hastened to admit the arrival.

It is a strange fact, and one of which we are satisfied merely to make mention, without attempting in the least to explain, but no sooner was Magennis in the presence of his young guest, than not only he seemed to forget all possible cause of irritation towards him, but to behave with a manner of, for him, the most courteous civility. He aided him to remove his shot-belt and his bag; took his hat from his hands, and carefully wiped it; placed a chair for him close to the fire; and then, as he turned to address him, remarked for the first time the blood-stained handkerchief which still bound his forehead.

"Did you fall,--had you an accident?" asked he, eagerly.

"No," said the other, laughing; "a bit of an adventure only, which I 'll tell you after dinner."

"Was it any of the people? Had you a fight--"

"Come, Magennis, you must exercise a little patience. Not a word, not a syllable, till I have eaten something, for I am actually famishing."

A stout knock of the poker on the chimney summoned the dinner, and almost in the same instant the woman entered with a smoking dish of Irish stew.

"Mrs. Joan, you're an angel," said Ma.s.singbred; "if there was a dish I was longing for on this cold, raw day, it was one of your glorious messes. They seem made for the climate, and by Jove, the climate for them. I say, Mac, does it always rain in this fashion here?"

"No; it sleets now and then, and sometimes blows."

"I should think it does," said Jack, seating himself at the table. "The pleasant little slabs of marble one sees on the cabin-roofs to keep down the thatch are signs of your western zephyrs. Mrs. Joan has outdone herself today. This is first-rate."

"There's too strong a flavor of hare in it," said Magen-nis, critically.

"That's exactly its perfection; the wild savor lifts it out of the vulgar category of Irish stews, and a.s.similates it, but not too closely, to the ragout. I tell you, Mac, there's genius in the composition of that gravy."

The partial pedantry of this speech was more than compensated for by the racy enjoyment of the speaker, and Magennis was really gratified at the zest with which his young friend relished his meal.

"It has one perfection, at least," said he, modestly,--"it 's very unlike what you get at home."

"We have a goodish sort of a cook," said Jack, languidly,--"a fellow my father picked up after the Congress of Verona. Truffles and treaties seem to have some strong sympathetic attraction, and when diplomacy had finished its work, a _chef_ was to be had cheap! The worst of the cla.s.s is, they 'll only functionate for your grand dinners and they leave your every-day meal to some inferior in the department."

It was strange that Magennis could listen with interest always whenever Ma.s.singbred 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!

Ma.s.singbred's very name--the son of the celebrated Moore Ma.s.singbred--a Treasury Lord--Heaven knows what else besides--certainly a Right Honorable--was what first fascinated him in his young acquaintance, and induced him to invite him to his house. Jack would probably have declined the invitation, but it just came at the moment when he was deeply mortified at Nelligan's absence,--an absence which old Dan was totally unable to explain or account for. Indeed, he had forgotten that, in his note to his son, he had not mentioned Ma.s.singbred by name, and thus was he left to all the embarra.s.sment of an apology without the slightest clew as to the nature of the excuse.

No sooner, then, was it apparent to Ma.s.singbred that young Nelligan did not intend to return home, than he decided on taking his own departure.

At first he determined on going back to Dublin; but suddenly a malicious thought sprung up of all, the mortification it might occasion Joe to learn that he was still in the neighborhood; and with the amiable antic.i.p.ation of this vengeance, he at once accepted Magennis's offer to "accompany him to his place in the mountains, and have some shooting."

It would not have been easy to find two men so essentially unlike in every respect as these two, who now sat discussing their punch after dinner. In birth, bringing-up, habits, instincts, they were widely dissimilar, and yet, somehow, they formed a sort of companionship palatable to each. Each had something to tell the other which he had either not heard before, or not heard in the same way. We have already adverted to the strong fascination Magen-nis experienced in dwelling on the rank and social position of his young guest. Ma.s.singbred experienced no less delight in the indulgence of his favorite pastime,--adventure hunting. Now, here was really something like adventure,--this wild, rude mountain home, this strange compound of gloom and pa.s.sion, 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 s.p.a.ce. 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 pa.s.sed part of a week in company, when the incident occurred of which our last chapter makes mention, and an account of which, now, Ma.s.singbred proceeded to give his host, neither exaggerating nor diminishing in the slightest particular any portion of the event.