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 difficulty 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 manner, nor the attractive charms of her appearance that had so captivated old Catty; but that the young girl, to her eyes, represented the great family whose name she bore, and represented them so worthily. The t.i.tle of the Princess, by which the Country people knew her, seemed her just and rightful designation. Mary realized to her the proud scion of a proud stock, who had ruled over a territory rather than a mere estate; how, then, could she bear to behold her in all the straits and difficulties of a reduced condition? There seemed but one way to effect this, which was to give her new mode of life the character of a caprice. "I must make old Catty believe it is one of my wild and wilful fancies,--a sudden whim,--out of which a little time will 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 humor, patiently awaiting the time when it shall a.s.sume a course the very opposite."

Some one should, however, be intrusted with her secret,--without some a.s.sistance 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 Ladyship'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 concession to the poor people on the estate, r.e.t.a.r.d the cruel progress of the law, or give them time to provide against its demands. Mary felt that she was in a position to exercise a certain influence over him; and, conscious of the goodness of the cause she would promote, never hesitated as to the means of employing 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 a.n.a.lysis 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 pa.s.sage.

"By whose orders is this done?" cried Mary, to whose quick intelligence the act revealed its whole meaning and motive.

"Mr. Henderson, miss," replied one of the men. "He said we were to work all night at it, if we could n't be sure of getting it done before Sunday."

A burst of pa.s.sionate 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 dispa.s.sionately, so that others may not suffer from the changes in my fortune."

She no sooner reached the house than she despatched a note to Mr.

Scanlan, requesting to see him as early as possible on the 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 coloring that a colder spirit and more calculating mind had never bestowed on them.

CHAPTER XXVIII. HOW MR. SCANLAN GIVES SCOPE TO A GENEROUS IMPULSE

It is 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 existence, would occupy a far wider s.p.a.ce. 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 favorable subject by which to test this theory. If not endowed with any of the higher and greater qualities of intellect, he was equally removed from any deficiency on that score. The world called him "a clever fellow," and the world is rarely in fault in such judgments. Where 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 pa.s.sing 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 favor the writer with a visit at his earliest convenience, if possible early on the following morning.

Had it been a doc.u.ment of suspected authenticity, a forged acceptance, an interpolated article in a deed, a newly discovered codicil to a will, he could not have canva.s.sed every syllable, scrutinized every letter, with more searching zeal. It was hurriedly written; there was, therefore, some emergency. It began, "Dear sir," a style she had never employed before; the letter "D" was blotted, and seemed to have been originally destined for an "M," as though she had commenced "Miss Martin requests," etc., and then suddenly adopted the more familiar address.

The tone of command by which he was habitually summoned to Cro' Martin was a.s.suredly 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 succor 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 consideration. It was a case for very delicate management, great skill, and great patience, but it was well worth all the cost.

"If I succeed," said he to 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 been struck by the changed 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 swagger in which the attorney indulged while moving about the stable-yard declined into a more becoming gait as he traversed the long corridors, and finally 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 started early from home."

"At five, miss," said he, bowing deferentially.

"And of course you have not breakfasted?"

"Indeed, then, I only took a cup of coffee. I was anxious to be early. I thought from your note that there might be something urgent."

Mary half smiled at the mingled air of bashfulness and gallantry in which he uttered these broken sentences; for without knowing it himself, while he began in some confusion, he attained a kind of confidence as he went on.

"Nor have I breakfasted, either," said she; "and I beg, therefore, you will join me."

Scanlan's face actually glowed with pleasure.

"I have many things to consult you upon with regard to the estate, and I am fully aware that there is n.o.body more competent to advise me."

"Nor more ready and willing, miss," said Maurice, bowing.

"I 'm perfectly certain of that, Mr. Scanlan. The confidence my uncle has always reposed in you a.s.sures me on that head."

"Was n't I right about the borough, Miss Mary?" broke he in. "I told you how it would be, and that if you did n't make some sort of a compromise with the Liberal party--"

"Let me interrupt you, Mr. Scanlan, and once for all a.s.sure 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 affections it leaves behind it."

"A beautiful sentiment, to which I respond with all my heart," rejoined Scanlan, with an energy that made her blush deeply.

"I only meant to say, sir," added she, hastily, "that the borough and its politics need never be discussed between us."

"Just so, miss. We'll call on the next case," said Scanlan.

"My uncle's sudden departure, and a slight indisposition under which I have labored 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 departure,--the anxieties of leave-taking,--one thing or another, in short, gave me little time to seek his counsel as to many points I 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 pa.s.sing 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 honors with an ease that plainly told that all the subject of her late discourse was to be left for the present in abeyance. In fact, the very tone of her voice was changed, as she chatted away carelessly about the borough people and their doings, what strangers had lately pa.s.sed 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 compa.s.sionate jocularity of their little dinners and evening parties.

He criticised toilet and manners and cookery, therefore, with much self-complacency,--far more than had he suspected that Mary Martin's amus.e.m.e.nt 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."