In these meetings one subject usually occupied them,--the sad condition of the country, the dest.i.tution of the poor,--and on this theme their sympathies and hopes and fears all agreed. It was not only that they concurred in their views of the national character, but that they attributed its traits of good or evil to the very same causes; and while Nelligan was amazed at finding the daughter of a proud house deeply conversant with the daily life of the humblest peasant, she, too, was astonished how sincere in his respect for rank, how loyal in his devotion to the claims of blood, was one whose birth might have proclaimed him a democrat and a destroyer.

These daily discussions led them closer and closer to each other, till at length confidences grew up between them, and Mary owned to many of the difficulties that her lone and solitary station exposed her to.

Many things were done on the property without--some in direct opposition to--her concurrence. As she once said herself, "We are so ready to satisfy our consciences by a.s.suming that whatever we may do legally we have a right to do morally, and at the same time, in the actual condition of Ireland, what is just may be practically the very heaviest of all hardships." This observation was made with reference to some law proceedings of Scanlan's inst.i.tuting, and the day after she chanced to make it Joe started for Dublin. It was there that Magennis's attorney had sent him the brief in that cause,--a charge which the etiquette of his profession precluded his declining.

In what way he discharged the trust we have seen,--what sorrow it cost him is more than we can describe. "Miss Martin," thought he, "would know nothing of the rules which prescribe our practice, and will look upon my conduct here as a treason. For weeks long she has conversed with me in candor over the state of the county and its people; we separate for a few days, and she finds me arrayed with others against the interests of her family, and actually paid to employ against her the very knowledge she has imparted to me! What a career have I chosen," cried he, in his agony, "if every success is to be purchased at such a price!" With such men as Magennis he had nothing in common; their society, their habits, their opinions were all distasteful to him, and yet it was for him and his he was to sacrifice the dearest hope of his heart,--to lose the good esteem of one whose praise he had accounted more costly than the highest distinction a sovereign could bestow on him. "And what a false position mine!" cried he again. "a.s.sociated by the very closest ties with a party not one of whose objects have my sympathies, I see myself separated by blood, birth, and station from all that I venerate and respect. I must either be a traitor to my own or to myself; declare my enmity to all I think most highly of, or suffer my motives to be impugned and my fame tarnished."

There was, indeed, one circ.u.mstance in this transaction which displeased him greatly, and of which he was only aware when too late. The Magennis defence had been "got up" by a subscription,--a fund to which Joseph's own father had contributed. Amongst the machinery of attack upon the landed gentry, Father Neal Rafferty had suggested the expediency of "putting them on their t.i.tles" in cases the most trivial and insignificant. Forfeiture and confiscation had followed each other so frequently in Irish history,--grants and revocations were so mixed up together,--some attested in all formality, others irregular and imperfect,--that it was currently believed there was scarcely one single estate of the whole province could establish a clear and indisputable t.i.tle. The project was, therefore, a bold one which, while disturbing the rights of property, should also bring under discussion so many vexed questions of English rule and tyranny over the Irish. Libraries and cabinets were ransacked for ancient maps of the counties; and old records were consulted to ascertain how far the original conditions of service, and so forth, had been complied with on which these estates were held.

Joseph had frequently carried home books from the library of Cro'

Martin, rare and curious volumes, which bore upon the ancient history of the country. And now there crossed him the horrible suspicion that the whole scheme of this attack might be laid to his charge, the information to substantiate which he had thus surrept.i.tiously-obtained. It was clear enough, from what his mother had said, that such was not Miss Martin's present impression; but who could say what representations might be made to her, and what change effected in her sentiments? "And this," cried he, in indignation--"and this is the great career I used to long for!--this the broad highway I once fancied was to lead me to honor and distinction! Or is it, after all, my own fault, for endeavoring to reconcile two-things which never can have any agreement,--an humble origin and high aspirings? Were I an Englishman, the difficulty would not be impa.s.sable; but here, in Ireland, the brand of a lowly fortune and a despised race is upon me. Can I--dare I resist it?"

A long and arduous conflict was that in which he pa.s.sed the night,--now inclining to abandon his profession forever, now to leave Ireland and join the English or some Colonial Bar; and at length, as day was breaking, and as though the fresh morning air which now blew upon him from his open window had given fresh energy to his nature, he determined he would persist in his career in his own country. "_My_ fate shall be an example or a warning!" cried he. "They who come after me shall know whether there be rewards within reach of honest toil and steady industry without the contamination of a mock patriotism! If I _do_ rise, it shall be from no aid derived from a party or a faction; and if I fail, I bring no discredit upon 'my order.'"

There are men who can so discipline their minds that they have but to establish a law to their actions to make their whole lives "a system."

Such individuals the Germans not inaptly call "self-contained men," and of these was Joe Nelligan one.

A certain concentration of his faculties, and the fatigues of a whole night pa.s.sed thus in thought, gave a careworn, exhausted look to his features as he entered the room where Repton sat awaiting him for breakfast.

"I see what's the matter with you," said the old lawyer, as he entered.

"You have pa.s.sed the night after a 'first brief.' This day ten years you'll speak five hours before the Lords 'in error,' and never lose a wink of sleep after it's over!"

CHAPTER XVI. MR. REPTON LOOKS IN

On the day after that some of whose events we have just recorded, and towards nightfall, Mary Martin slowly drove along the darkly wooded avenue of Cro' Martin. An unusual sadness overweighed her. She was just returning from the funeral of poor old Mat Landy, one of her oldest favorites as a child. He it was who first taught her to hold an oar; and, seated beside him, she first learned to steer a "corragh" through the wild waves of the Atlantic. His honest, simple nature, his fine manly contentedness with a very humble lot, and a cheerful gayety of heart that seemed never to desert him, were all traits likely to impress such a child as she had been and make his companionship a pleasure. With a heavy heart was it, therefore, now that she thought over these things, muttering to herself as she went along s.n.a.t.c.hes of the old songs he used to sing, and repeating mournfully the little simple proverbs he would utter about the weather.

The last scene itself had been singularly mournful. Two fishermen of the coast alone accompanied the car which bore the coffin; death or sickness was in every house; few could be spared to minister to the dead, and even of those, the pale shrunk features and tottering limbs bespoke how dearly the duty cost them. Old Mat had chosen for his last resting-place a little churchyard that crowned a cliff over the sea,--a wild, solitary spot,--an old gable, a ruined wall, a few low gravestones, and no more.

The cliff itself, rising abruptly from the sea to some four hundred feet, was perforated with the nests of sea-fowl, whose melancholy cries, as they circled overhead, seemed to ring out a last requiem. There it was they now laid him. Many a time from that bleak summit had he lighted a beacon fire to ships in distress.

Often and often, from that same spot, had he gazed out over the sea, to catch signs of those who needed succor, and now that bold heart was still and that strong arm stiffened, and the rough, deep voice that used to sound above the tempest, silent forever.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 188]

"Never mind, Patsey," said Mary, to one of the fishermen, who was endeavoring with some stray fragments of a wreck to raise a little monument over the spot, "I'll look to that hereafter." And so saying, she turned mournfully away to descend the cliff. A stranger, wrapped in a large boat-cloak, had been standing for some time near the place; and as Mary left it, he drew nigh and asked who she was.

"Who would she be?" said the fisherman, gruffly, and evidently in no humor to converse.

"A wife, or a daughter, perhaps?" asked the other again.

"Neither one nor the other," replied the fisherman.

"It is Miss Mary, sir,--Miss Martin,--G.o.d bless her!" broke in the other; "one that never deserts the poor, living or dead. Musha! but she's what keeps despair out of many a heart!"

"And has she come all this way alone?" asked he.

"What other way could she come, I wonder?" said the man he had first addressed. "Did n't they leave her there by herself, just as if she was n't belonging to them? They were kinder to old Henderson's daughter than to their own flesh and blood."

"Hush, Jerry, hush!--she 'll hear you," cried the other. And saluting the stranger respectfully, he began to follow down the cliff.

"Are there strangers stopping at the inn?" asked Mary, as she saw lights gleaming from some of the windows as she pa.s.sed.

"Yes, miss, there's him that was up there at the churchyard--ye didn't remark him, maybe--and one or two more."

"I did not notice him," said Mary; and, wishing the men good-night, set out homeward. So frequent were the halts she made at different cabins as she drove along, so many times was she stopped to give a word of advice or counsel, that it was already duskish as she reached Cro' Martin, and found herself once more near home. "You're late with the post this evening, Billy," said she, overtaking the little fellow who carried the mail from Oughterard.

"Yes, miss, there was great work sortin' the letters that came in this morning, for I believe there's going to be another election; at least I heard Hosey Lynch say it was all about that made the bag so full."

"I 'm sorry for it, Billy," said she. "We have enough to think of, ay, and troubles enough, too, not to need the strife and bitterness of another contest amongst us."

"Thrue for ye, miss, indeed," rejoined Billy. '"Tis wishing them far enough I am, them same elections; the bag does be a stone heavier every day till it's over."

"Indeed!" said Mary, half smiling at the remark.

"Thrue as I 'm here, miss. I would n't wonder if it was the goold for bribin' the chaps makes it weigh so much."

"And is there any other news stirring in the town, Billy?"

"Next to none, miss. They were talkin' of putting up ould Nelligan's son for the mimber; and more says the Magennis of Barnagheela will stand."

"A most excellent choice that would be, certainly," said Mary, laughing.

"Faix! I heerd of another that wasn't much better, miss."

"And who could that be?" asked Mary, in astonishment.

"But sure you'd know better than me, if it was thrue, more by token it would be the master's own orders."

"I don't understand you, Billy."

"I mean, miss, that it's only his Honer, Mr. Martin, could have the power to make Maurice Scanlan a Parlimint man."

"And has any one hinted at such a possibility?" said she, in astonishment.

"Indeed, then, it was the talk of the market this mornin', and many a one said he's the very fellow would get in."

"Is he such a general favorite in Oughterard?"

"I'm not sure it's that, miss," said Billy, thoughtfully.

"Maybe some likes him, and more is afraid of him; but he himself knows everybody and everybody's business. He can raise the rent upon this man, take it off that; 'tis his word can make a barony-constable or one of the watch. They say he has the taxes, too, in his power, and can cess you just as he likes. Be my conscience, he 's all as one as the Prime Minister."

Just as Billy had delivered this sage reflection they had reached the hall door, where, having consigned the letter-bag to the hands of a servant, he turned his steps to the kitchen, to take an "air of the fire" before he set out homeward. Mary Martin had not advanced many steps within the hall when both her hands were cordially grasped, and a kind voice, which she at once recognized as Mr. Repton's, said, "Here I am, my dear Miss Martin; arrived in time, too, to welcome you home again. You paid me a visit yesterday--"

"Yes," broke she in; "but you were shaking your ambrosial curls at the time, browbeating the bench, or cajoling the jury, or something of that sort."

"That I was; but I must own with scant success. You 've heard how that young David of Oughterard slew the old Goliath of Dublin? Well, shall I confess it? I'm glad of it. I feel proud to think that the crop of clever fellows in Ireland is flourishing, and that when I, and a dozen like me, pa.s.s away, our places will be filled by others that will keep the repute of our great profession high in the public estimation."

"This is worthy of you, sir," cried Mary, pressing the arm ahe leaned on more closely.