It was evident that he hoped her curiosity might have inquired 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 manouvre?

"The money-market is tight just now," said he, speaking only to gain time for further observation; "and there's worse times even before us."

If Mary 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, at 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 convenience."

"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," muttered she, not hearing one word of his speech.

"So that I'll come over to-morrow, Miss Mary," broke he in.

"Very well, to-morrow!" 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 round, 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. He had bowed, and sidled, and simpered, and smirked, and sighed; had thrown himself into att.i.tudes pictorially devoted and despairing, looked unutterable things in various styles, and finally made an exit, covered with as much shame and discomfiture 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 on 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 always."

"She understands a stable well," said Scanlan, half questioning.

"Does n't she?" said the other, 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 has n'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!" 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 long 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 croup, so as not to ruffle a hair of the glossy coat, exhibited an animal of surpa.s.sing 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, pa.s.sing his hand lightly over it; "and was there ever a horse--worth the name of a horse--that hadn't a splint? Sure, they 're foaled with them! I wanted Miss Mary to let me take that off with an ointment I have, but she would n't. 'It's not in the way of the tendon,' says she. 'It will never spoil his action, and we 'll not 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 utterer; "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.

"Kiltimmon,--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 Sat.u.r.day 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 steeplechase action for his fences. With eleven stone on his back--one that can ride, I mean, of course--he 'd challenge all Ireland."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 418]

"I would n'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. 'T is Jemmy was to ride him; and Miss Mary would n't object to give you the boy, jacket and all, her own colors,--blue, with white sleeves."

"Do you think so, Barnes? Do you think she'd let me run him in the Martin colors?" cried Scanlan, to whom the project now had suddenly a.s.sumed 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 diplomatist 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, putting spurs to his nag, dashed hurriedly away, his thoughts outstripping in their speed the pace he went, and traversing s.p.a.ce with a rapidity that neither "blood" nor training ever vied with.

END OF VOL. I.