The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II) Read online

  CHAPTER I. CRO' MARTIN

  I am about to speak of Ireland as it was some four-and-twenty years ago,and feel as if I were referring to a long-past period of history, suchhave been the changes, political and social, effected in that interval!Tempting, as in some respects might be an investigation into the causesof these great changes, and even speculation as to how they might havebeen modified and whither they tend, I prefer rather to let the readerform his own unaided judgment on such matters, and will therefore,without more of preface, proceed to my story.

  If the traveller leaves the old town of Oughterard, and proceedswestward, he enters a wild and dreary region, with few traces ofcultivation, and with scarcely an inhabitant. Bare, bleak mountains,fissured by many a torrent, bound plains of stony surface,--here andthere the miserable hut of some "cottier," with its poor effort attillage, in the shape of some roods of wet potato land, or the sorrypicture of a stunted oat crop, green even in the late autumn. Gradually,however, the scene becomes less dreary. Little patches of grass landcome into view, generally skirting some small lake; and here are to bemet with droves of those wild Connemara ponies for which the district isso celebrated; a stunted hardy race, with all the endurance and couragethat beseem a mountain origin. Further on, the grateful sight of youngtimber meets the eye, and large enclosures of larch and spruce fir areseen on every favorable spot of ground. And at length, on winding roundthe base of a steep mountain, the deep woods of a rich demesne appear,and soon afterwards a handsome entrance-gate of massive stone, witharmorial bearings above it, announces the approach to Cro' MartinCastle, the ancient seat of the Martins.

  An avenue of several miles in length, winding through scenery of themost varied character, at one time traversing rich lawns of wavingmeadow, at another tracking its course along some rocky glen, orskirting the bank of a clear and rapid river, at length arrives at thecastle. With few pretensions to architectural correctness, Cro' Martinwas, indeed, an imposing structure. Originally the stronghold of somebold Borderer, it had been added to by successive proprietors, tillat last it had assumed the proportions of a vast and spacious edifice,different eras contributing the different styles of building, andpresenting in the mass traces of every architecture, from the stern oldwatch-tower of the fourteenth century to the commodious dwelling-houseof our own.

  If correct taste might take exception to many of the external detailsof this building, the arrangements within doors, where all that eleganceand comfort could combine were to be found, might safely challengecriticism. Costly furniture abounded, not for show in state apartments,shrouded in canvas, or screened from sunlight, but for daily use inrooms that showed continual habitation.

  Some of the apartments displayed massive specimens of that richly carvedold oak furniture for which the chateaux of the Low Countries werefamed; others abounded with inlaid consoles and costly tables of"marqueterie," and others again exhibited that chaste white and goldwhich characterized the splendid era of the Regency in France. Greatjars of Sevres, those splendid mockeries of high art, stood in thewindows, whose curtains were of the heaviest brocade. Carpets of softPersian wool covered the floors, and rich tapestries were thrown oversofas and chairs with a careless grace, the very triumph of picturesqueeffect.

  In the scrupulous neatness of all these arrangements, in the orderlyair, the demure and respectful bearing of the servants as they showedthe castle to strangers, one might read the traces of a strict andrigid discipline,--features, it must be owned, that seemed littlein accordance with the wild region that stretched on every side. Thespotless windows of plate-glass, the polished floor that mirrored everychair that stood on it, the massive, and well-fitting doors, the richlygilded dogs that shone within the marble hearth, had little brotherhoodwith the dreary dwellings of the cottiers beyond the walls of the park;and certainly even Irish misery never was more conspicuous than in thatlonely region.

  It was early on a calm morning of the late autumn that the silentcourtyard of the castle resounded with the sharp quick tramp of a horse,suddenly followed by a loud shrill whistle, as a young girl, mountedupon a small but highly bred horse, galloped up to one of the backentrances. Let us employ the few seconds in which she thus awaited, tointroduce her to the reader. Somewhat above the middle size, and witha figure admirably proportioned, her face seemed to blend the joyouscharacter of happy girlhood with a temperament of resolute action. Thelarge and liquid hazel eyes, with their long dark fringes, were almostat variance with the expression of the mouth, which, though finely andbeautifully fashioned, conveyed the working of a spirit that usuallyfollowed its own dictates, and as rarely brooked much interference.

  Shaded by a broad-leaved black hat, and with a braid of her dark auburnhair accidentally fallen on her shoulder, Mary Martin sat patting thehead of the wire-haired greyhound who had reared himself to her side,--astudy for Landseer himself. Scarcely above a minute had elapsed, whenseveral servants were seen running towards her, whose hurried airbetrayed that they had only just risen from bed.

  "You're all very late to-day," cried the young lady. "You should havebeen in the stables an hour ago. Where 's Brand?"

  "He 's gone into the fair, miss, with a lot of hoggets," said a littleold fellow with a rabbit-skin cap, and a most unmistakable groomformation about the knees and ankles.

  "Look to the mare, Barny," said she, jumping off; "and remind me, if Iforget it, to fine you all, for not having fed and watered before sixo'clock. Yes, I 'll do it; I said so once before, and you 'll see I 'llkeep my word. Is it because my uncle goes a few weeks to the seaside,that you are to neglect your duty? Hackett, I shall want to see thecolts presently; go round to the straw-yard and wait till I come; and,Graft, let us have a look at the garden, for my aunt is quite provokedat the flowers you have been sending her lately."

  All this was said rapidly, and in a tone that evidently was not meantto admit of reply; and the gardener led the way, key in hand, very muchwith the air of a felon going to conviction. He was a Northern Irishman,however, and possessed the Scotch-like habits of prudent reserve thatnever wasted a word in a bad cause. And thus he suffered himself to besoundly rated upon various short-comings in his department,--celery thatwanted landing; asparagus grown to the consistence of a walking-cane;branches of fruit-trees breaking under their weight of produce; and evenweed-grown walks,--all were there, and upon all was he arraigned.

  "The old story, of course, Graft," said she, slapping her footimpatiently with her riding-whip,--"you have too few people in thegarden; but my remedy will be to lessen their number. Now mark me. Myuncle is coming home on Wednesday next,--just so--a full month earlierthan you expected,--and if the garden be not in perfect order,--if Ifind one of these things I have complained of to-day--"

  "But, my leddy, this is the season when, what wi' sellin' the fruit, andwhat wi' the new shoots--"

  "I 'll have it done, that 's all, Mr. Graft; and you 'll have one manless to do it with. I 'll go over the hothouse after breakfast," saidshe, smiling to herself at the satisfaction with which he evidentlyheard this short reprieve. Nor was he himself more anxious to escapecensure than was she to throw off the ungracious office of inflictingit.

  "And now for old Catty Broon, and a good breakfast to put me in bettertemper," said she to herself, as she entered the castle and wended herway to the housekeeper's room.

  "May I never; but I thought it was a dream when I heard your voiceoutside," said old Catty, as she welcomed her young mistress withheartfelt delight; "but when I saw them runnin' here and runnin' there,I said, sure enough, she's come in earnest."

  "Quite true, Catty," said Mary, laughing. "I surprised the garrison, andfound them, I must say, in most sorry discipline; but never mind, they'll have everything to rights by Wednesday, when we are all coming backagain."

  "Was the bathing any use to my Lady, miss?" asked Catty, but in a tonethat combined a kind of half drollery with earnest.

  "She's better and worse, Catty; better in health, and scarcely asgood-humored; but, there
's a good old soul, let me have breakfast, forI have a great deal to do before I ride back."

  "But sure you are not goin' to ride back to Kilkieran to-day?"

  "That am I, Catty, and up to Kyle's Wood and the new plantations beforeI go. Why, it's only fifteen miles, old lady!"

  "Faix, you 're your father's daughter all over," said Catty, with alook first at _her_, and then at a water-colored sketch which occupieda place over the chimney, and represented a fair-haired, handsome boy ofabout ten years of age.

  "Was that ever like papa?" asked the girl.

  "'Tis his born image, it is," said Catty; and her eyes swam with tearsas she turned away.

  "Well, to _my_ thinking he is far better-looking in that picture!" saidMary, pointing with her whip to a colored drawing of a showily dresseddragoon officer, reining in his charger, and seeming to eye withconsiderable disdain the open mouth of a cannon in front of him.

  "Ah, then, the other was more himself!" sighed Catty; "and more nat'raltoo, with the long hair on his neck and that roguish laugh in his eye."

  "And neither are very like that!" said Mary, pointing to a thirdportrait, which represented a swarthy horseman with a wide sombrero anda jacket all braided and buttoned in Mexican fashion, a rifle at hisback, and a long lance in his hand, with the heavy coil of a lasso athis saddle-peak.

  "Arrah, that ain't a bit like him," said the old woman, querulously,"for all that he said that it was."

  Mary arose at the words, and perused aloud some lines which were writtenat the foot of the picture, and which many and many a time before shehad conned over and repeated. They ran thus: "Aye, Catty, thoughyou won't believe it, that rough-looking old rider, all bearded andsunburned, is your own wild Barry of former days; and for all that theworld has done, wonderfully little altered in the core, though the crustis not very like that cherry-cheeked boy that used to, and mayhap stillmay, hang over your fireplace.--Guastalla, May, 1808."

  "And has he not written since that?" sighed the girl, over whom the darkshadow of orphanhood passed as she spoke.

  "Twice only: the first of the two spoke of his coming home again; butsomehow he seemed to be put off it, and the next letter was all aboutyou, as if he did n't mean to come back! My Lady and Master Barry neverwas fond of each other," muttered the old woman, after a pause, and asthough giving an explanation to some problem that she was working withinher own head.

  "But my uncle loved him," broke in Mary.

  "And why wouldn't he? War n't they twins? There was only a few minutesbetween them,--long enough to make one a rich man, and leave theother only his own wits and the wide world for a fortune! Ayeh, ayeh!"grumbled out the old crone, "if they were both born poor, they 'd belivin' together like brothers now, under the one roof,--happyand comfortable; and you and your cousin, Master Dick, would beplayfellows and companions, instead of his being away in Ingia, orAmerica, or wherever it is!"

  The young girl leaned her head on her hand, and appeared to have falleninto a deep train of thought; for she never noticed old Catty's remarks,nor, indeed, seemed conscious of her presence for some time. "Catty,"said she, at length, and in a voice of unusually calm earnestness,"never talk to me of these things; they only fret me; they set me athinking of Heaven knows what longings,--for a home that should be morelike a real home than this, though God knows my uncle is all that Icould wish in kindness and affection; but--but--"

  She stopped, and her lip quivered, and her eyes grew heavy-looking; andthen, with a kind of struggle against her emotions, she added gayly,"Come and show me the dairy, Catty. I want to see all those fine thingsin Wedgewood-ware that you got while we were away, and then we 'llhave a peep at the calves, and by that time it will be the hour for mylevee."

  "Faix, miss," said the old woman, "they 're all here already. The newssoon spread that you came over this morning, and you 'll have a greatassembly."

  "I'll not keep them waiting, then," said Mary; and, so saying, sheleft the room, and proceeding by many passages and corridors, at lengthreached a remote part of the building which once had formed part of theancient edifice. A suite of low-ceiled rooms here opened upon a smallgrassy enclosure, all of which had been appropriated by Mary to herown use. One was a little library or study, neatly but very modestlyfurnished; adjoining it was her office, where she transacted allbusiness matters; and beyond that again was a large chamber, whose solefurniture consisted in a row of deal presses against the walls, and along table or counter which occupied the middle of the room. Two largewindows opening to the floor lighted the apartment; and no sooner hadMary thrown these wide, than a burst of salutations and greetings arosefrom a dense and motley crowd assembled on the grass outside, and whostood, sat, or lay in every possible attitude and grouping, their facesall turned towards the window where she was standing.

  With true native volubility they poured out not only their welcomings,but a number of interjectional flatteries, supposed not to be audible byher on whom they commented; and thus her hair, her eyes, her teeth, hercomplexion, even her foot, were praised with an enthusiasm of admirationthat might have shamed more polished worshippers.

  These muttered eulogies continued as the young girl was occupiedunlocking drawers and presses, and placing upon the table several booksand papers, as well as a small scale and weights,--preparations allequally the source of fruitful observation.

  The company was entirely of the softer sex,--an epithet not perhaps inthe strictest accordance with an array of faces that really might haveshamed witchcraft. Bronzed, blear-eyed, and weather-beaten, seamed withage and scarred with sickness, shrewd-looking, suspicious, and craftyin every lineament, there was yet one characteristic predominant overall,--an intense and abject submission, an almost slavish deferenceto every observation addressed to them. Their dress bespoke the verygreatest poverty; not only were they clothed in rags of every hue andshape, but all were barefooted, and some of the very oldest wore noother covering to their heads than their own blanched and grizzledlocks.

  Nor would a follower of Lavater have argued too favorably ofthe prosperity of Irish regeneration, in beholding that array offaces,--low-browed, treacherous-looking, and almost savagely cruel, asmany of them were in expression. There was not, indeed, as often isto be remarked amongst the peasant class of many countries, a lookof stupid, stolid indifference; on the contrary, their faces wereintensely, powerfully significant, and there was stamped upon them thatstrange mixture of malignant drollery and sycophancy that no amount ofeither good or adverse fortune ever entirely subdues in their complexnatures.

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  The expediency of misery had begotten the expediency of morals, and inall the turnings and windings of their shifty natures you could see thesuggestions of that abject destitution which had eaten into their veryhearts. It would have puzzled a moralist to analyze these "gnarlednatures," wherein some of the best and some of the worst features ofhumanity warred and struggled together. Who could dare to call themkind-hearted or malevolent, grateful or ungrateful, free-giving orcovetous, faithful or capricious, as a people? Why, they were all these,and fifty other things just as opposite besides, every twenty-fourhours of their lives! Their moods of mind ranged from one extreme to theother; nothing had any permanency amongst them but their wretchedness.Of all their qualities, however, that which most obstructed theirimprovement, ate deepest into their natures, and suggested the worstfears for the future, was suspicion. They trusted nothing,--none,--sothat every benefit bestowed on them came alloyed with its own share ofdoubt; and all the ingenuity of their crafty minds found congenialoccupation in ascribing this or that motive to every attempt to bettertheir condition.

  Mary Martin knew them--understood them--as well as most people; few,indeed, out of their own actual station of life had seen so much oftheir domesticity. From her very childhood she had been conversant withtheir habits and their ways. She had seen them patient under the mosttrying afflictions, manfully braving every ill of life, and submittingwith a noble self-devotion to inevitable calamity;
and she hadalso beheld them, with ignorant impatience, resenting the slightestinterference when they deemed it uncalled for, and rejecting kindnesswhen it came coupled with the suggestion of a duty.

  By considerable skill, and no little patience, she had insinuated acertain small amount of discipline into this disorderly mass. She couldnot succeed in persuading them to approach her one by one, or wait withany semblance of order while she was yet occupied; but she enforcedconformity with at least one rule, which was, that none should speaksave in answer to some question put by herself. This may seem a verysmall matter, and yet to any one who knows the Irish peasant it willappear little short of miraculous. The passion for discursiveness, thetendency to make an effective theme of their misery, whatever particularshape it may assume, is essentially national; and to curb this vent tonative eloquence was to oppose at once the strongest impulse of theirnatures.

  Nothing short of actual, tangible benefits could compensate them forwhat they scrupled not to think was downright cruelty; nor was it tillafter months of steady perseverance on her part that her system could besaid to have attained any success. Many of the most wretched declined toseek relief on the conditions thus imposed. Some went as actualrebels, to show their friends and neighbors how they would resistsuch intolerance; others, again, professed that they only went out ofcuriosity. Strange and incomprehensible people, who can brave every illof poverty, endure famine and fever and want, and yet will not bow thehead to a mere matter of form, nor subject themselves to the very leastrestriction when a passion or a caprice stands opposed to it! Afterabout eighteen months of hard persistence the system began at lengthto work; the refractory spirits had either refrained from coming orhad abandoned the opposition; and now a semblance of order pervadedthe motley assemblage. Whenever the slightest deviation from the ritualoccurred, a smart tap of a small ivory ruler on the table imposedsilence; and they who disregarded the warning were ordered to move by,unattended to. Had a stranger been permitted, therefore, to take a peepat these proceedings, he would have been astonished at the rapidity withwhich complaints were heard, and wants redressed; for, with an instinctthoroughly native, Mary Martin appreciated the cases which came beforeher, and rarely or never confounded the appeal of real suffering withthe demands of fictitious sorrow. Most of those who came were desirousof tickets for Dispensary aid; for sickness has its permanent home inthe Irish cabin, and fever lurks amidst the damp straw and the smokyatmosphere of the poor peasant's home. Some, however, came for articlesof clothing, or for aid to make and repair them; others for some littleassistance in diet, barley for a sick man's drink, a lemon or an orangeto moisten the parched lips of fever; others, again, wanted leaveto send a grandchild or a niece to the school; and, lastly, a fewprivileged individuals appeared to claim their weekly rations of snuffor tobacco,--little luxuries accorded to old age,--comforts that solacedmany a dreary hour of a joyless existence. Amongst all the crowded massthere was not one whom Mary had not known and visited in their humblehomes. Thoroughly conversant with their condition and their necessities,she knew well their real wants; and if one less hopeful than herselfmight have despaired to render any actual relief to such widespreadmisery, she was sanguine enough to be encouraged by the results beforeher, small and few as they were, to think that possibly the good timewas yet to come when such efforts would be unneeded, and when Ireland'sindustry, employed and rewarded, would more than suffice for all therequirements of her humble poor.

  "Jane Maloney," said Mary, placing a small packet on the table, "givethis to Sally Kieran as you pass her door; and here 's the order foryour own cloak."

  "May the heavens be your bed. May the holy--"

  "Catty Honan," cried Mary, with a gesture to enforce silence. "Catty,your granddaughter never comes to the school now that she has got leave.What's the reason of that?"

  "Faix, your reverance, miss, 'tis ashamed she is by ray-son of herclothes. She says Luke Cassidy's daughters have check aprons."

  "No more of this, Catty. Tell Eliza to come on Monday, and if I 'msatisfied with her she shall have one too."

  "Two ounces of tea for the Widow Jones."

  "Ayeh," muttered an old hag. "But it's weak it makes it without a littlegreen in it!"

  "How are the pains, Sarah?" asked Mary, turning to a very feeble-lookingold creature with crutches.

  "Worse and worse, my Lady. With every change of the weather they come onafresh."

  "The doctor will attend you, Sally, and if he thinks wine good for you,you shall have it."

  "'T is that same would be the savin' of me, Miss Mary," said acunning-eyed little woman, with a tattered straw bonnet on her head, anda ragged shawl over her.

  "I don't think so, Nancy. Come up to the house on Monday morning andhelp Mrs. Taafe with the bleaching."

  "So this is the duplicate, Polly?" said she, taking a scrap of paperfrom an old woman whose countenance indicated a blending of dissipationwith actual want.

  "One-and-fourpence was all I got on it, and trouble enough it gaveme." These words she uttered with a heavy sigh, and in a tone at onceresentful and complaining.

  "Were my uncle to know that you had pawned your cloak, Polly, he 'dnever permit you to cross his threshold."

  "Ayeh, it's a great sin, to be sure," whined out the hag, halfinsolently.

  "A great shame and a great disgrace it certainly is; and I shall stopall relief to you till the money be paid back."

  "And why not!" "To be sure!" "Miss Mary is right!" "What else could shedo?" broke in full twenty sycophant voices, who hoped to prefer theirown claims by the cheap expedient of condemning another.

  "The Widow Hannigan."

  "Here, miss," simpered out a smiling little old creature, with acourtesy, as she held up a scroll of paper in her hand.

  "What 's this, Widow Hannigan?"

  "'T is a picture Mickey made of you, miss, when you was out riding thatday with the hounds; he saw you jumping a stone wall."

  Mary smiled at the performance, which certainly did not promise futureexcellence, and went on,--

  "Tell Mickey to mend his writing; his was the worst copy in the class;and here's a card for your daughter's admission into the Infirmary. Bythe way, widow, which of the boys was it I saw dragging the river onWednesday?"

  "Faix, miss, I don't know. Sure it was none of ours would dare to--"

  "Yes, they would, any one of them; but I 'll not permit it; and what'smore, widow, if it occur again, I 'll withdraw the leave I gave to fishwith a rod.

  "Teresa Johnson, your niece is a very good child, and promises to bevery handy with her needle. Let her hem these handkerchiefs, and there'sa frock for herself. My uncle says Tom shall have half his wages paidhim till he's able to come to work again."

  But why attempt to follow out what would be but the long, unendingcatalogue of native misery,--that dreary series of wants and privationsto which extreme destitution subjects a long-neglected and helplesspeople? There was nothing from the cradle to the coffin, from the firstwailing wants of infancy to the last requirement of doting old age, thatthey did not stand in need of.

  A melancholy spectacle, indeed, was it to behold an entire population sosteeped in misery, so utterly inured to wretchedness, that they feltno shame at its exposure, but rather a sort of self-exultation at anyopportunity of displaying a more than ordinary amount of human sufferingand sorrow;--to hear them how they caressed their afflictions, how theyseemed to fondle their misfortunes, vying with each other in calamity,and bidding higher and higher for a little human sympathy.

  Mary Martin set herself stoutly to combat this practice, including, asit does, one of the most hopeless features of the national character. Toinculcate habits of self-reliance she was often driven, in violation ofher own feelings, to favor those who least needed assistance, but whoseefforts to improve their condition might serve as an example. With apeople who are such consummate actors she was driven into simulationherself, and paraded sentiments of displeasure and condemnation whenher very heart was bursting w
ith pity and compassion. No wonder was it,then, that she rejoiced when this painful task was completed, and shefound herself in the more congenial duty of looking over the "youngstock," and listening to old Barny's predictions about yearlings andtwo-year-olds.

  This young girl, taught to read by a lady's maid, and to sew by ahousekeeper, possessed scarcely any of the resources so usual to thosein her own condition, and was of sheer necessity thrown upon herselffor occupation and employment. Her intense sympathy with the people,her fondness for them even in their prejudices, had suggested the wholestory of her life. Her uncle took little or no interest in the detailsof his property. The indolence in which he first indulged from liking,became at last a part of his very nature, and he was only too wellpleased to see the duty undertaken by another which had no attractionfor himself.

  "Miss Mary will look to it"--"Tell my niece of it"--"Miss Martin willgive her orders," were the invariable replies by which he escaped alltrouble, and suffered the whole weight of labor and responsibility todevolve upon a young girl scarcely out of her teens, until gradually,from the casual care of a flower-garden, or a childish pleasure ingiving directions, she had succeeded to the almost unlimited rule ofher uncle's house and his great estate.

  Mr. Martin was often alarmed at some of his niece's measures of reform.The large sums drawn out of bank, the great expenses incurred in weeklywages, the vast plans of building, draining, road-making, and evenbridging, terrified him; while the steward, Mr. Henderson, slylyinsinuated, that though Miss Mary was a wonderful manager, and the "besthead he ever knew, except my Lady's," she was dreadfully imposed on bythe people--but, to be sure, "how could a young lady be up to them?"But she was up to them, aye, and more still, she was up to Mr. Hendersonhimself, notwithstanding his mild, douce manner, his cautious reserve,and his unbroken self-possession.

  It is very far from my intention to say that Mary Martin was not overand over again the dupe of some artifice or other of the crafty andsubtle natures that surrounded her. Mock misery, mock industry, mockenlightenment, mock conviction, even mock submission and resignation,had all their partial successes; and she was entrapped by many apretence that would have had no chance of imposing on Mr. Henderson.Still there was a credit side to this account, wherein his name wouldnot have figured. There were traits of the people, which he neithercould have understood or valued. There were instincts--hard strugglingefforts, fighting their way through all the adverse circumstances oftheir poverty--that he never could have estimated, much less could hehave speculated on the future to which they might one day attain.

  If Mary was heart and soul devoted to her object,--if she thought ofnothing else,--if all her dreams by night and all her daily effortswere in the cause, she was by no means insensible to the flattery whichconstantly beset her. She accepted it readily and freely, laughing atwhat she persuaded herself to believe was the mere exuberance of thatnational taste for praise. Like most warm and impulsive natures, shewas greedy of approbation; even failure itself was consoled by a wordof encomium on the effort. She liked to be thought active, clever, andenergetic. She loved to hear the muttered voices which at any moment ofdifficulty said, "Faix, Miss Mary will find the way to it;" or, "Sureit won't baffle _her_, anyhow." This confidence in her powers stimulatedand encouraged her, often engendering the very resources it imputed.

  She might have made many a mistake in the characters of those for whomshe was interested,--conceived many a false hope,--nurtured many adelusive expectation; but in the scheme of life she had planned outfor herself, the exalting sense of a duty more than recompensed herfor every failure: and if any existence could be called happy, itwas hers,--the glorious excitement of an open-air life, with allits movements and animation. There was that amount of adventureand enterprise which gave a character of romantic interest to herundertakings, and thus elevated her to a degree of heroism to herself,and then, knowing no fatigue, she was again in the saddle, and, straightas the crow flies, over the county to Kyle's Wood.

  A solitary cabin or two stood in the midst of the wild, bleak plain, andby these she paused for a few minutes. The watchful eyes that followedher as she went, and the muttered blessings that were wafted after her,proclaimed what her mission had been, and showed how she had for a briefspace thrown a gleam of sunshine over the darksome gloom of some sadexistence.

  "God bless her! she's always cheerful and light-hearted," said the poorpeasant, as he leaned on his spade to look after her; "and one feelsbetter the whole day after the sight of her!"