"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 condescend to feel offended with us, I 'd only be more grateful; but my Lady--"

A long, low whistle from Repton implied that he had fully appreciated the "situation."

"Ah, I see it," cried he; "and this explains the meaning of an article I read this morning in the 'Evening Post,'--the Government organ,--wherein it is suggested that country gentlemen would be more efficient supporters of the administration if they lent themselves heartily to comprehend the requirements of recent legislation, than by exacting heavy reprisals on their tenants in moments of defeat and disappointment."

"Well, it is rather hard," said Martin, with more of 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 are 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, mournfully.

"Come, come, I trust you will. I hope to pa.s.s some pleasant days with you there ere I die," said Repton, cheer-ingly. "Indeed, until you are there again, I 'll never go farther west than Athlone on my circuit. I 'd not like to, look at the old place without you!"

Martin nodded as he raised his gla.s.s, as if to thank him, and then dropped his head mournfully, and sat without speaking.

"Poor dear Mary!" said he, at last, with a heavy sigh. "Our desertion of her is too bad. It's not keeping the pledge I made to Barry!"

"Well, well, there's nothing easier than the remedy. A week or so will see you settled in some city abroad,--Paris, or Brussels, perhaps. Let her join you; I 'll be her escort. Egad! I'd like the excuse for the excursion," replied Repton, gayly.

"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 him--Look, Repton," added he, grasping the other's arm as he spoke, "there's not as generous a fellow breathing as Barry; this world has not his equal for an act of n.o.ble self-devotion and sacrifice.

His life!--he 'd not think twice of it if I asked him to give it for me; but if he felt--if he could just awaken to the conviction that he was unfairly dealt with, that when believing he was sacrificing to affection and brotherly love he was made a dupe and a fool of--"

"Be cautious, Martin; 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 n.o.ble, generous source that feeds every impulse of his life--would supply the force of a torrent to his pa.s.sion; he 'd be a tiger if you aroused him!"

"Don't you perceive, my dear friend," said Repton, calmly, "how you are exaggerating everything,--not alone _your own_ culpability, but his resentment! Grant that you ought not to have left Mary behind you,--I 'm sure I said everything I could against it,--what more easy than to repair the wrong?"

"No, no, Repton, you 're quite mistaken. Take my word for it, you don't know that girl. She has taught herself to believe that her place is there,--that it is her duty to live amongst the people. She may exaggerate to her own mind the good she does; she may fancy a thousand things as to the benefit she bestows; but she cannot, by any self-deception, over-estimate the results upon her own heart, which she has educated to feel as only they do who live amongst the poor! To take her away from this would be a cruel sacrifice; and for what?--a world she would n'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 _ours_ to have remained also. When she married," added he, after a pause,--"when she had got a home of her own,--then, of course, it would have been quite different! Heaven knows," said he, sighing, "we have little left to tie us to anything or anywhere; and as to 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 sh.o.r.es 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 grat.i.tude; your life ought to be active with benevolence; you should be up and doing, wherever ample means and handsome encouragement could a.s.sist 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,--who are weighted with debt, bowed down with daily difficulties, crippled with that penury that eats into a man's nature till his very affections grow sordid, and his very dreams are 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 weariness or distract suffering, but bare sustenance,--coa.r.s.e diet and coa.r.s.er dress! Ah, my dear Martin, that Romanist plan of fasting one day in the week would n't be a bad inst.i.tution were we to introduce it into our social code. If you and I could have, every now and then, our feelings of privation, just to teach us what others experience all the week through, we 'd have, if not more sympathy with narrow fortune, at least more thankfulness for its opposite."

"Her Ladyship begs you will read this note, sir," said a servant, presenting an open letter to Martin. He took it, and having perused it, handed it to Repton, who slowly read the following lines:--

"'The Lodge, Tuesday.

"'Madam,--I have his Excellency's commands to inquire on what day it will suit Mr. Martin and your Ladyship to favor him with your company at dinner? His Excellency would himself say Sat.u.r.day, but any intermediate day more convenient to yourself will be equally agreeable to him.

"'I have the honor 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 agitation.

"Here's more of it, Repton," said he, filling and drinking off his gla.s.s. "It 's all _my_ fault, it seems. I ought to have gone out to the 'Lodge' this morning, or called on somebody, or done something; in fact, I have been remiss, neglectful, deficient in proper respect--"

"So that you decline the invitation?" broke in Repton.

"Not a bit of it; we 're to accept it, man. That's what I cannot comprehend. 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 spoke, as if he were in reality relishing the absurdity of these expectations.

"Was it Kate Henderson who encouraged you to credit this flattering picture?"

"No; these are my Lady's own experiences, derived from a residence there 'when George the Third was King.' As to Kate, the girl is by no means deficient in common sense; she has the frivolity of a Frenchwoman, and that light, superficial tone foreign education imparts; but take my word for it, Repton, she has very fine faculties!"

"I will take your word for it, Martin. I think you do her no more than justice," said the old lawyer, sententiously.

"And I 'll tell you another quality she possesses," said Martin, in a lower and more cautious tone, as though dreading to be overheard,--"she understands my Lady to perfection,--when to yield and when to oppose her. The girl has an instinct about it, and does it admirably; and there was poor dear Mary, with all her abilities, and she never could succeed in this! How strange, for n.o.body would think of comparing the two girls!"

"n.o.body!" dryly re-echoed Repton.

"I mean, of course, that n.o.body 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 pa.s.sed the decanter across the table.

"Molly," continued Martin, with all the fluency of a weak man when he fancies he has got the better of an argument,--"Molly is her father all over. The same resolution, the same warmth of heart, and that readiness at an expedient which never failed poor Barry! What a clever fellow he was! If he _had_ a fault, it was just being too clever."

"Too speculative, too sanguine," interposed 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 energy have become loungers and idlers, and the energy--the real energy of the nation--has centred in the women,--the women and the priests! If I'm not much mistaken, we shall see some rare specimens of enthusiasm erelong. Such elements as these will not slumber nor sleep!"