"It's mighty hard to mistrust a man that gives you the likes of that,"

said Crow, as he drew a neatly folded banknote from his pocket, and handed it to Scanlan. "Twenty pounds! And he gave you that?" "This very evening. 'It is a little more than our bargain, Mr. Crow,' said he, 'but not more than I can afford to give; and so I hope you 'll not refuse it.' These were his words, as he took my lot of drawings--poor daubs they were--and placed them in his portfolio."

"So that he is rich?" said Maurice, pensively, "There seems no end of his money; there's not a day goes over he does n't spend fifteen or sixteen pounds in meat, potatoes, barley, and the like. Sure, you may say he 's been feeding the two islands himself for the last fortnight; and what's more, one must n't as much as allude to it. He gets angry at the slightest word that can bring the subject forward. It was the other day he said to myself, 'If you can relieve dest.i.tution without too much parade of its sufferings, you are not only obviating the vulgar display of rich benevolence, but you are inculcating high sentiments and delicacy of feeling in those that are relieved. Take care how you pauperize the heart of a people, for you 'll have to make a workhouse of the nation.'"

"Sure, they're paupers already!" exclaimed Scanlan, contemptuously.

"When I hear all these elegant sentiments uttered about Ireland, I know a man is an a.s.s! This is a poor country,--the people is poor, the gentry is poor, the climate is n't the best, and bad as it is, you 're never sure of it. All that anybody can hope to do is to make his living out of it; but as to improving it,--raising the intellectual standard of the people, and all that balderdash we hear of,--you might just as well tell me that there was an Act of Parliament to make everybody in Connaught six feet high. Nature says one thing, and it signifies mighty little if the House of Commons says the other."

"And you 're telling me this in the very spot that contradicts every word you say!" cried Crow, half angrily; for the port had given him courage, and the decanter waxed low.

"How so?" exclaimed Scanlan.

"Here, where we sit--on this very estate of Cro' Martin--where a young girl--a child the other day--has done more to raise the condition of the people, to educate and civilize, than the last six generations together."

A long wailing whistle from Scanlan was the insulting reply to the a.s.sertion.

"What do you mean by that?" cried Crow, pa.s.sionately.

"I mean that she has done more mischief to the property than five-and-forty years' good management will ever repair, Now don't be angry, Simmy; keep your temper, and draw your chair back again to the table. I 'm not going to say one word against her intentions; but when I see the waste of thousands of pounds on useless improvements, elegant roads that lead nowhere, bridges that n.o.body will ever pa.s.s, and harbors without boats, not to say the habits of dependence the people have got by finding everything done for them. I tell you again, ten years more of Miss Mary's rule will finish the estate."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 130]

"I don't believe a word of it!" blurted out Simmy, boldly. "I saw her yesterday coming out of a cabin, where she pa.s.sed above an hour, nursing typhus fever and cholera. The cloak she took off the door--for she left it there to dry--was still soaked with rain; her wet hair hung down her shoulders, and as she stood bridling her own pony,--for there was not a living soul to help her--"

"She 'd have made an elegant picture," broke in Scanlan, with a laugh.

"But that's exactly the fault of us in Ireland,--we are all picturesque; I wish we were prosperous! But come, Simmy, finish your wine; it's not worth disputing about. If all I hear about matters be true, there will be very little left of Cro' Martin when the debts are paid."

"What! do you mean to say that they 're in difficulty?"

"Far worse; the stories that reach me call it--ruin!"

Simmy drew his chair closer to the table, and in a whisper scarcely breathed, said, "That chap's not asleep, Maurice."

"I know it," whispered the other; and added, aloud, "Many a fellow that thinks he has the first charge on the property will soon discover his mistake; there are mortgages of more than eighty years' standing on the estate. You've had a great sleep, sir," said he, addressing Merl, who now yawned and opened his eyes; "I hope our talking did n't disturb you?"

"Not in the least," said Merl, rising and stretching his legs. "I'm all right now, and quite fresh for anything."

"Let me introduce Mr. Crow to you, sir,--a native artist that we 're all proud of."

"That's exactly what you are not then," said Crow; "nor would you be if I deserved it. You 'd rather gain a cause at the Quarter Sessions, or take in a friend about a horse, than be the man that painted the Madonna at Florence."

"He's cross this evening,--cross and ill-humored," said Scanlan, laughing. "Maybe he 'll be better tempered when we have tea."

"I was just going to ask for it," said Merl, as he arranged his whiskers, and performed a small impromptu toilet before the gla.s.s, while Simmy issued forth to give the necessary orders.

"We 'll have tea, and a rubber of dummy afterwards," said Scanlan, "if you've no objection."

"Whatever you like,--I 'm quite at your disposal," replied Merl, who now seated himself with an air of bland amiability, ready, according to the amount of the stake, to win pounds or lose sixpences.

CHAPTER XI. MR. MERL "AT FENCE"

All the projects which Mr. Scanlan had struck out for Merl's occupation on the following day were marred by the unfavorable weather. It blew fiercely from the westward, driving upon sh.o.r.e a tremendous sea, and sending white ma.s.ses of drift and foam far inland. The rain, too, came down in torrents. The low-lying clouds, which scarcely reached more than half-way up the mountain sides, seemed as if rent asunder at times, and from them came a deluge, filling all the watercourses, and swelling rivulets to the size of mighty torrents. The unceasing roll of thunder, now near, now rumbling along in distant volleys, swelled the wild uproar, and helped to make up a scene of grand but desolate meaning.

What could well be drearier than that little line of cabins that formed the village of Kilkieran, as with strongly barricaded doors, and with roofs secured by ropes and spars, they stood exposed to the full violence of the wild Atlantic! Not a man, not a living thing was to be seen. The fishermen were all within doors, cowering in gloomy indolence over the scanty turf fires, and brooding darkly on the coming winter.

With a thorough conviction of all the dreariness of this scene, Mr.

Merl stood at the window and looked out. He had been all his life too actively engaged in his pursuits of one kind or other to know much about what is called "being bored." Let rain fall ever so heavily, a cab could take him down to "'Change,"--the worst weather never marred a sale of stock, and Consols could rise even while the mercury was falling. The business-life of a great city seems to care little for weather, and possibly they whose intent faculties are bent on gain, scarcely remember whether the sun shines upon their labors.

Merl felt differently now; the scene before him was wilder and gloomier than anything he had ever beheld. Beyond and behind the village steep mountains rose on every side, of barren and rugged surface,--not a vestige of any culture to be seen; while on the road, which led along a narrow gorge, nothing moved. All was dreary and deserted.

"I suppose you'll keep the roof over you to-day, Mr. Merl?" said Scanlan, as he entered the room, b.u.t.toned up to the chin in a coa.r.s.e frieze coat, while his head was protected by a genuine "sou'-wester" of oilskin.

"And are _you_ going out in such weather?" asked Merl.

"'Needs must,' sir, as the proverb says. I have to be at the a.s.sizes at Oughterard this morning, to prosecute some scoundrels for cutting brambles in the wood; and I want to serve notices on a townland about eight miles from this; and then I 'll have to go round by Cro' Martin and see Miss Mary. That's not the worst of it," added he, with an impudent leer, "for she's a fine girl, and has the prettiest eyes in the kingdom."

"I have a letter for her," said Merl,--"a letter of introduction from Captain Martin. I suppose I might as well send it by you, and ask if I might pay my respects to-morrow or next day?"

"To be sure; I'll take it with pleasure. You'll like her when you see her. She's not a bit like the rest: no pride, no stand-off,--that is, when she takes a fancy; but she is full of life and courage for anything."

"Ah, yes,--the Captain said we should get on very well together,"

drawled out Merl.

"Did he, though!" cried Scanlan, eagerly. Then as suddenly checking his anxiety, he added: "But what does _he_ know about Miss Mary? Surely they're as good as strangers to each other. And for the matter of that, even when he was here, they did n't take to each other,--she was always laughing at the way he rode."

"Wasn't he in the dragoons?" asked Merl, in a half-reb.u.t.ting tone.

"So he was; but what does that signify? Sure it's not a cavalry seat, with your head down and your elbows squared, will teach you to cross country,--at least, with Mary Martin beside you. You'll see her one of these day yourself, Mr. Merl. May I never, if you don't see her now!"

cried Scanlan, suddenly, as he pointed to the road along which a horse was seen coming at speed, the rider breasting the storm fearlessly, and only crouching to the saddle as the gusts swept past. "What in the name of all that's wonderful brings her here?" cried Maurice. "She wasn't down at Kilkieran for four months."

"She'll stop at this inn here, I suppose?" said Merl who was already performing an imaginary toilet for her visit.

"You may take your oath she'll not!" said Scanlan half roughly; "she 'd not cross the threshold of it! She 's going to some cabin or other.

There she goes,--is n't that riding?" cried he, in animation. "Did you ever see a horse held neater? And see how she picks the road for him!

Easy as she's sitting, she 'd take a four-foot wall this minute, without stirring in her saddle."

"She hasn't got a nice day for pleasuring!" said the Jew, with a vulgar cackle.

"If ye call it pleasure," rejoined Scanlan, "what she's after; but I suspect there's somebody sick down at the end of the village. There, I 'm right; she's pulling up at Mat Landy's,--I wonder if it's old Mat is bad."

"You know him?" asked Merl.

"To be sure I do. He 's known down the coast for forty miles. He saved more men from shipwreck himself than everybody in the barony put together; but his heart is all but broke about a granddaughter that ran away. Sure enough, she's going in there."

"Did you see Miss Mary?" cried Crow, entering suddenly. "She's just gone down the beach. They say there's a case now down there."

"A case--of what?" said Merl.