The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II) Page 3

  CHAPTER II. KILKIERAN BAY

  In one of the many indentures of Kilkieran Bay,--favored by asoutherly aspect and a fine sandy beach, sheltered by two projectingheadlands,--stood a little row of cabins, originally the dwellings ofpoor fishermen, but now, in summer-time, the resort of the neighboringgentry, who frequented the coast for sea-bathing. There was littleattempt made by the humble owners to accommodate the habits of thewealthy visitors. Some slight effort at neatness, or some modestendeavor at internal decoration, by a little window-curtain or a ricketychest of drawers, were the very extent of these pretensions. Year byyear the progress of civilization went thus lazily forward; and, farfrom finding fault with this backwardness, it was said that the visitorswere just as well satisfied. Many hoped to see the place as theyremembered it in their own childhood, many were not sorry to availthemselves of its inexpensive life and simple habits, and some were morepleased that its humble attractions could draw no strangers to sojournthere to mock by their more costly requirements the quiet ways of theold residents.

  Under the shelter of a massive rock, which formed the northern boundaryof the little bay, stood one building of more pretension. It was ahandsome bathing-lodge, with a long veranda towards the sea, and aneffort, not very successful, however, at a little flower-garden infront. The spacious bay-windows, which opened in French fashion, wereof plate-glass; the deep projecting eave was ornamented with a handsomecornice; and the entire front had been richly decorated by entablaturesin stucco and common cement. Still, somehow, there seemed to be aspiteful resistance in the climate to such efforts at embellishment.The wild hurricanes that swept over the broad Atlantic were not to bewithstood by the frail timbers of the Gothic veranda. The sweeping guststhat sent foaming spray high over the rocky cliffs shattered the costlypanes, and smashed even the mullions that held them; while fragments ofcarving, or pieces of stuccoed tracery, together with broken vases anduprooted shrubs, littered the garden and the terrace. The house was buta few years built, and yet was already dilapidated and ruinous-looking.A stout stone wall had replaced the trellised woodwork of one side ofthe porch; some of the windows were firmly barricaded with boards on theoutside; and iron cramps and other appliances equally unsightly on theroof, showed by what means the slates were enabled to resist the storms.

  The aspect of consistent poverty never inspires ridicule. It is shabbygentility alone that provokes the smile of sarcastic meaning; and thusthe simple dwellings of the fishermen, in all their humility, offerednothing to the eye of critical remark. There seemed abundant absurdityin this attempt to defy climate and aspect, place and circumstance; andevery effort to repair an accident but brought out the pretension intomore glaring contrast. The "Osprey's Nest," as Lady Dorothea Martin hadstyled her bathing-lodge, bore, indeed, but a sorry resemblance to itswater-colored emblem in the plan of the architect; for Mr. Kirk had notonly improvised a beautiful villa, with fuchsias and clematis andmoss-roses clustering on it, but he had invented an Italian sky, andgiven a Lago Maggiore tint to the very Atlantic. Your fashionablearchitect is indeed a finished romancer, and revels in the license ofhis art with a most voluptuous abandonment.

  It was now, however, late in the autumn; some warnings of theapproaching equinox had already been felt, and the leaden sky above, andthe dark-green, sullen sea beneath, above which a cold northwester sweptgustily, recalled but little of the artistic resemblance.

  The short September day was drawing to a close, and it was just thatdreary interval between day and dusk, so glorious in fine weather,but so terribly depressing in the cold ungenial season, as all thefrequenters of the little bay were hastening homeward for the night.Already a twinkling candle or two showed that some had retired totheir humble shealings to grumble over the discomforts about them, andspeculate on a speedy departure. They who visited Kilkieran during the"season" were usually the gentry families of the neighborhood; butas the summer wore over, their places were occupied by a kind of"half-price company,"--shopkeepers and smart residents of Oughterard,who waited for their pleasure till it could be obtained economically.Of this class were now those on the evening I have mentioned, and to asmall select party of whom I now desire to introduce my reader.

  It was "Mrs. Cronan's Evening"--for the duty of host was takenin rotation--and Mrs. Cronan was one of the leaders of fashion inOughterard, for she lived on her own private means, at the top ofCarraway Street, entertained Father Maher every Sunday at dinner, andtook in the "Galway Intelligence," which, it is but fair to say, was,from inverted letters and press blunders, about as difficult reading asany elderly lady ever confronted.

  Mrs. Cronan was eminently genteel,--that is to say, she spent her lifein unceasing lamentations over the absence of certain comforts "shewas always used to," and passed her days in continual reference to someformer state of existence, which, to hear her, seemed almost borrowedbodily out of the "Arabian Nights." Then there was Captain Bodkin, ofthe Galway Fencibles,--a very fat, asthmatic old gentleman, who camedown to the "salt water" every summer for thirty years, fullydetermined to bathe, but never able to summon courage to go in. He wasa kind-hearted, jolly old fellow, who loved strong punch and long whist,and cared very little how the world went on, if these enjoyments wereavailable.

  Then there was Miss Busk, a very tall, thin, ghostly personage, with apinkish nose and a pinched lip, but whose manners were deemed the verytype of high breeding, for she courtesied or bowed at almostminute intervals during an "Evening," and had a variety of personalreminiscences of the Peerage. She was of "an excellent family," Mrs.Cronan always said; and though reduced by circumstances, she was theSwan and Edgar of Oughterard,--"was company for the Queen herself."

  The fourth hand in the whist-table was usually taken by Mrs. Nelligan,wife of "Pat Nelligan," the great shopkeeper of Oughterard, and who,though by no means entitled on heraldic grounds to take her place in anysuch exalted company, was, by the happy accident of fortune, elevated tothis proud position. Mrs. Nelligan being unwell, her place was, on thepresent occasion, supplied by her son; and of him I would fain say a fewwords, since the reader is destined to bear company with him when theother personages here referred to have been long forgotten.

  Joseph Nelligan was a tall, pale young fellow who, though only justpassed twenty-two, looked several years older; the serious, thoughtfulexpression of his face giving the semblance of age. His head was largeand massively shaped, and the temples were strong and square, deeplyindented at the sides, and throwing the broad, high forehead intogreater prominence; dark eyes, shaded by heavy, black eyebrows, lentan almost scowling character to a face which, regular in feature, wassingularly calm and impassive-looking. His voice was deep, low, andsonorous, and though strongly impressed with the intonation of hisnative province, was peculiarly soft, and, to Irish ears, even musical.He was, however, remarkably silent; rarely or never conversed, as hisacquaintances understood conversation, and only when roused by sometheme that he cared for, or stimulated by some assertion that hedissented from, was he heard to burst forth into a rapid flow of words,uttered as though under the impulse of passion, and of which, whenended, he seemed actually to feel ashamed himself.

  He was no favorite with the society of Kilkieran; some thought himdownright stupid; others regarded him as a kind of spy upon hisneighbors,--an imputation most lavishly thrown out in every circle wherethere is nothing to detect, and where all the absurdity lies palpable onthe surface; and many were heard to remark that he seemed to forget whohe was, and that "though he was a college student, he ought to rememberhe was only Pat Nelligan's son."

  If he never courted their companionship, he as little resented theirestrangement from him. He spent his days and no small share of hisnights in study; books supplied to him the place of men, and in theirconverse he forgot the world. His father's vanity had entered him asa Fellow-Commoner in the University, and even this served to widenthe interval between him and those of his own age; his class-fellowsregarded his presence amongst them as an intolerable piece of low-bredpres
umption. Nor was this unkindly feeling diminished when they saw him,term after term, carry away the prizes of each examination; for equallyin science as in classics was he distinguished, till at length it becamea current excuse for failure when a man said, "I was in Nelligan'sdivision."

  It is not impossible that his social isolation contributed much to hissuccess. For him there were none of the amusements which occupy those ofhis own age. The very fact of his fellow-commoner's gown separated himas widely from one set of his fellow-students as from the other, andthus was he left alone with his ambition. As time wore on, and hissuccesses obtained wider notoriety, some of those in authority in theUniversity appeared to be disposed to make advances to him; but heretreated modestly from these marks of notice, shrouding himself inhis obscurity, and pleading the necessity for study. At length camethe crowning act of his college career, in the examination for the goldmedal; and although no competitor was bold enough to dispute the prizewith him, he was obliged to submit to the ordeal. It is rarely that thepublic vouchsafes any interest in the details of University honors; butthis case proved an exception, and almost every journal of the capitalalluded in terms of high paneygric to the splendid display he made onthat occasion.

  In the very midst of these triumphs, young Nelligan arrived at hisfather's house in Oughterard, to enjoy the gratification his success haddiffused at home, and rest himself after his severe labors. Little asold Pat Nelligan of his neighbors knew of University honors, or thetoil which won them, there was enough in the very publicity of his son'scareer to make him a proud man. He at least knew that Joe had beatenthem all; that none could hold a candle to him; "that for nigh a centurysuch answering had not been heard on the bench." This was the expressionof a Dublin journal, coupled with the partisan regret that, by thebigoted statutes of the college, genius of such order should be deniedthe privilege of obtaining a fellowship.

  If young Nelligan retired, half in pride, half in bashful-ness, from thenotice of society in Dublin, he was assuredly little disposed to enterinto the gayeties and dissipations of a small country-town existence.The fulsome adulation of some, the stupid astonishment of others, but,worse than either, the vulgar assumption that his success was a kind ofparty triumph,--a blow dealt by the plebeian against the patrician, thePapist against the Protestant,--shocked and disgusted him, and he wasglad to leave Oughterard and accompany his mother to the seaside. Shewas an invalid of some years' standing,--a poor, frail, simple-heartedcreature, who, after a long, struggling life of hardship and toil, sawherself in affluence and comfort, and yet could not bring her mind tobelieve it true. As little could she comprehend the strange fact ofJoe's celebrity; of his name figuring in newspapers, and his healthbeing drunk at a public dinner in his native town. To her he wasinvaluable; the very tenderest of nurses, and the best of allcompanions. She did n't care for books, even those of the most amusingkind; but she loved to hear the little gossip of the place where theneighbors passed the evening; what topics they discussed; who had leftand who had arrived, and every other little incident of their uneventfullives. Simple and easy of execution as such an office might have beento a kindred spirit, to Joseph Nelligan it proved no common labor. Andcertain it is that the mistakes he committed in names, and the blundershe fell into as regarded events, rather astonished his mother, andled that good lady to believe that Trinity College must not havebeen fertile in genius when poor Joe was regarded as one of the greatluminaries of his time. "Ah," would she say, "if he had his father'shead it would be telling him! but, poor boy, he remembers nothing!"

  This digression--far longer than I cared to make it, but which has grownto its present extent under my hands--will explain young Nelligan'spresence at Mrs. Cronan's "Tea," where already a number of othernotables had now assembled, and were gracefully dispersed through thesmall rooms which formed her apartment. Play of various kinds formed thechief amusement of the company; and while the whist-table, in decorousgravity, held the chief place in the sitting-room, a laughing round gameoccupied the kitchen, and a hardly contested "hit" of backgammonwas being fought out on the bed, where, for lack of furniture, thecombatants had established themselves.

  The success of an evening party is not always proportionate to the meansemployed to secure it. Very splendid _salons_, costly furniture,and what newspapers call "all the delicacies of the season," areoccasionally to be found in conjunction with very dull company; whilea great deal of enjoyment and much social pleasure are often to bemet with where the material resources have been of the fewest and mostsimple kind. On the present occasion there was a great deal of laughing,and a fair share of love-making; some scolding at whist, and anabundance of scandal, at least of that cut-and-thrust-at character whichamuses the speakers themselves, and is never supposed to damage thosewho are the object of it. All the company who had frequented theport--as Kilkieran was called--during the season were passed in review,and a number of racy anecdotes interchanged about their rank, morals,fortune, and pretensions. A very general impression seemed to prevailthat in the several points of climate, scenery, social advantages, andamusements, Kilkieran might stand a favorable comparison with the firstwatering-places, not alone of England, but the Continent; and aftervarious discursive reasons why its fame had not equalled its deserts,there was an almost unanimous declaration of opinion that the wholefault lay with the Martins; not, indeed, that the speakers were verylogical in their arguments, since some were heard to deplore the changefrom the good old times, when everybody was satisfied to live anywhereand anyhow, when there was no road to the place but a bridle-path, nota loaf of bread to be had within twelve miles, no post-office; whileothers eloquently expatiated on all that might have been, and yet wasnot done.

  "We tried to get up a little news-room," said Captain Bodkin, "and Iwent to Martin myself about it, but he hum'd and ha'd, and said, untilpeople subscribed for the Dispensary he thought they needn't mindnewspapers."

  "Just like him," said Mrs. Cronan; "but, indeed, I think it's my Ladydoes it all."

  "I differ from you, ma'am," said Miss Busk, with a bland smile; "Iattribute the inauspicious influence to another."

  "You mean Miss Martin?" said Mrs. Cronan.

  "Just so, ma'am; indeed, I have reason to know I am correct. This timetwo years it was I went over to Cro' Martin House to propose opening 'myEmporium' for the season at the port. I thought it was due to the ownersof the estate, and due to myself also," added Miss Busk, majestically,"to state my views about a measure so intimately associated withthe--the--in fact, what I may call the interests of civilization. Ihad just received my plates of the last fashions from Dublin,--you mayremember them, ma'am; I showed them to you at Mrs. Cullenane's--well,when I was in the very middle of my explanation, who should come intothe room but Miss Martin--"

  "Dressed in the old brown riding-habit?" interposed a fat old lady withone eye.

  "Yes, Mrs. Few, in the old brown riding-habit. She came up to the table,with a saucy laugh in her face, and said, 'Why, uncle, are you going togive a fancy ball?'

  "'It is the last arrival from Paris, miss,' said I; 'the Orleans mantle,which, though not a "costume de Chasse," is accounted very becoming.'

  "'Ah, you 're laughing at my old habit, Miss Busk,' said she, seeinghow I eyed her; 'and it really is very shabby, but I intend to give DanLeary a commission to replace it one of these days.'"

  "Dan Leary, of the Cross-roads!" exclaimed Captain Bodkin, laughing.

  "I pledge you my word of honor, sir, she said it. 'And as to all thisfinery, Miss Busk,' said she, turning over the plates with her whip, 'itwould be quite unsuitable to our country, our climate, and our habits;not to say, that the Orleans mantle would be worn with an ill grace whenour people are going half naked!'"

  "Positively indecent! downright indelicate!" shuddered Mrs. Cronan.

  "And did Martin agree with her?" asked the Captain.

  "I should like to know when he dared to do otherwise. Why, between mylady and the niece he can scarcely call his life his own."

>   "They say he has a cruel time of it," sighed Mr. Clinch, therevenue-officer, who had some personal experience of domestic slavery.

  "Tush,--nonsense!" broke in his wife. "I never knew one of thosehen-pecked creatures that was n't a tyrant in his family. I 'll engage,if the truth were known, Lady Dorothy has the worst of it."

  "Faith, and he's much altered from what he was when a boy, if anyone rules him," said the captain. "I was at school with him and histwin-brother Barry. I remember the time when one of them had to wear abit of red ribbon in his button-hole to distinguish him from the other.They were the born images of each other,--that is, in looks; for inreal character they were n't a bit like. Godfrey was a cautious, quiet,careful chap that looked after his pocket-money, and never got intoscrapes; and Barry was a wasteful devil that made the coin fly, andcould be led by any one. I think he 'd have given his life for hisbrother any day. I remember once when Godfrey would n't fight a boy,--Iforget what it was about; Barry stole the bit of ribbon out of his coat,and went up and fought in his place; and a mighty good thrashing he got,too."

  "I have heard my father speak of that," said a thin, pale, carewornlittle man in green spectacles; "for the two boys were taken away atonce, and it was the ruin of the school."

  "So it was, doctor; you're right there," broke in the Captain; "and theysay that Martin bears a grudge against you to this day."

  "That would be hard," sighed the meek doctor; "for I had nothing todo with it, or my father, either. But it cost him dearly!" added he,mournfully.

  "You know best, doctor, whether it is true or not; but he certainly wasn't your friend when you tried for the Fever Hospital."

  "That was because Pat Nelligan was on my committee," said the doctor.

  "And was that sufficient to lose you Mr. Martin's support, sir?" askedyoung Nelligan, with a degree of astonishment in his face, that, joinedto the innocence of the question, caused a general burst of heartylaughter.

  "The young gentleman knows more about _cubic_ sections, it appears,than of what goes on in his own town," said the Captain. "Why, sir,your father is the most independent man in all Oughterard; and if I knowGodfrey Martin, he 'd give a thousand guineas this night to have him outof it."

  A somewhat animated "rally" followed this speech, in which differentspeakers gave their various reasons why Martin ought or ought not tomake any sacrifice to put down the spirit of which Pat Nelligan was thechief champion. These arguments were neither cogent nor lucid enough torequire repeating; nor did they convey to Joseph himself, with allhis anxiety for information, the slightest knowledge on the subjectdiscussed. Attention was, however, drawn off the theme by the clatteringsound of a horse passing along the shingly shore at a smart gallop;and with eager curiosity two or three rushed to the door to see whatit meant. A swooping gust of wind and rain, overturning chairs andextinguishing candles, drove them suddenly back again; and, halflaughing at the confusion, half cursing the weather, the partybarricaded the door, and returned to their places.

  "Of course it was Miss Martin; who else would be out at this time of thenight?" said Mrs. Clinch.

  "And without a servant!" exclaimed Miss Busk.

  "Indeed, you may well make the remark, ma'am," said Mrs. Cronan. "Theyoung lady was brought up in a fashion that was n't practised in mytime!"

  "Where could she have been down that end of the port, I wonder?" saidMrs. Clinch. "She came up from Garra Cliff."

  "Maybe she came round by the strand," said the doctor; "if she did, Idon't think there 's one here would like to have followed her."

  "I would n't be her horse!" said one; "nor her groom!" muttered another;and thus, gradually lashing themselves into a wild indignation, theyopened, at last, a steady fire upon the young lady,--her habits, hermanners, and her appearance all coming in for a share of criticism; andalthough a few modest amendments were put in favor of her horsemanshipand her good looks, the motion was carried that no young lady ever tooksuch liberties before, and that the meeting desired to record theirstrongest censure on the example thus extended to their own youngpeople.

  If young Nelligan ventured upon a timid question of what it was shehad done, he was met by an eloquent chorus of half a dozen voices,recounting mountain excursions which no young lady had ever made before;distant spots visited, dangers incurred, storms encountered, perilsbraved, totally unbecoming to her in her rank of life, and showing thatshe had no personal respect, nor--as Miss Busk styled it--"aproper sense of the dignity of woman!"

  "'T was down at Mrs. Nelligan's, ma'am, Miss Mary was," said Mrs.Cronan's maid, who had been despatched special to make inquiry on thesubject.

  "At my mother's!" exclaimed Joseph, reddening, without knowing in theleast why. And now a new diversion occurred, while all discussed everypossible and impossible reason for this singular fact, since the familyat the "Nest" maintained no intercourse whatever with their neighbors,not even seeming, by any act of their lives, to acknowledge their veryexistence.

  Young Nelligan took the opportunity to make his escape during thedebate; and as the society offers nothing very attractive to detain us,it will be as well if we follow him, while he hastened homeward alongthe dark and storm-lashed beach. He had about a mile to go, and, shortas was this distance, it enabled him to think over what he had justheard, strange and odd as it seemed to his ears. Wholly given up, as hehad been for years past, to the ambition of a college life, with but onegoal before his eyes, one class of topics engrossing his thoughts, hehad never even passingly reflected on the condition of parties, thefeuds of opposing factions, and, stronger than either, the animositiesthat separated social ranks in Ireland. Confounding the occasionalslights he had experienced by virtue of his class, with the jealousycaused by his successes, he had totally overlooked the disparagement menexhibited towards the son of the little country shopkeeper, and neverknew of his disqualification for a society whose precincts he had nottried to pass. The littleness, the unpurpose-like vacuity, the intensevulgarity of his Oughterard friends had disgusted him, it is true; buthe had yet to learn that the foolish jealousy of their wealthyneighbor was a trait still less amiable, and ruminating over theseproblems,--knottier far to him than many a complex formula or many adisputed reading of a Greek play,--he at last reached the solitarylittle cabin where his mother lived.

  It is astonishing how difficult men of highly cultivated and activelypractised minds find it to comprehend the little turnings and windingsof commonplace life, the jealousies and the rivalries of small people.They search for motives where there are merely impulses, and look forreasons when there are simple passions.

  It was only as he lifted the latch that he remembered how deficienthe was in all the information his mother would expect from him. Of thefortunes of the whist-table he actually knew nothing; and had he beeninterrogated as to the "toilette" of the party, his answers would havebetrayed a lamentable degree of ignorance. Fortunately for him, hismother did not display her habitual anxiety on these interesting themes.She neither asked after the Captain's winnings,--he was the terror ofthe party,--nor whether Miss Busk astonished the company by another newgown. Poor Mrs. Nelligan was too brimful of another subject to admitof one particle of extraneous matter to occupy her. With a proudconsciousness, however, of her own resources, she affected to havethoughts for other things, and asked Joe if he passed a pleasant day?

  "Yes, very--middling--quite so--rather stupid, I thought," replied he,in his usual half-connected manner, when unable to attach his mind tothe question before him.

  "Of, course, my dear, it's very unlike what you 're used to up inDublin, though I believe that Captain Bodkin, when he goes there, alwaysdines with the Lord-Lieutenant; and Miss Busk, I know, is second cousinto Ram of Swainestown, and there is nothing better than that in Ireland.I say this between ourselves, for your father can't bear me to talk offamily or connections, though I am sure I was always brought up tothink a great deal about good blood; and if my father was a Finnerty, mymother was a Moore of Crockbawn, and her family never lo
oked at her formarrying my father."

  "Indeed!" said Joe, in a dreamy semi-consciousness.

  "It's true what I 'm telling you. She often said it to me herself, andtold me what a blessing it was, through all her troubles and trials inlife; and she had her share of them, for my father was often in drink,and very cruel at times. 'It supports me,' she used to say, 'to rememberwho I am, and the stock I came from, and to know that there 's not onebelonging to me would speak to me, nor look at the same side of the roadwith me, after what I done; and, Matty,' said she to me, 'if ever ithappens to you to marry a man beneath you in life, always bear inmind that, no matter how he treats you, you 're better than him.' And,indeed, it's a great support and comfort to one's feelings, after all,"said she, with a deep sigh.

  "I'm certain of it," muttered Joe, who had not followed one word of theharangue.

  "But mind that you never tell your father so. Indeed, I would n't let onto him what happened this evening."

  "What was that?" asked the young man, roused by the increased anxiety ofher manner.

  "It was a visit I had, my dear," replied the old lady, with a simperingconsciousness that she had something to reveal,--"it was a visit I hadpaid me, and by an elegant young lady, too."

  "A young lady? Not Miss Cassidy, mother. I think she left yesterdaymorning."

  "No, indeed, my dear. Somebody very different from Miss Cassidy; and youmight guess till you were tired before you 'd think of Miss Martin."

  "Miss Martin!" echoed Joe.

  "Exactly so. Miss Martin of Cro' Martin; and the way it happened wasthis. I was sitting here alone in the room after my tea,--for I sentBiddy out to borrow the 'Intelligence' for me; and then comes a sharpknock to the door, and I called out, 'Come in;' but instead of doing sothere was another rapping, louder than before, and I said, 'Bother you,can't you lift the latch?' and then I heard something like a laugh, andso I went out; and you may guess the shame I felt as I saw a younglady fastening the bridle of her horse to the bar of the window. 'Mrs.Nelli-gan, I believe,' said she, with a smile and a look that warmedmy heart to her at once; and as I courtesied very low, she went on. Iforget, indeed, the words,--whether she said she was Miss Martin, orit was I that asked the question; but I know she came in with me to theroom, and sat down where you are sitting now. 'Coming back from Kyle'sWood this morning,' said she, 'I overtook poor Billy with the post. Hewas obliged to go two miles out of his way to ford the river; and whatwith waiting for the mail, which was late in coming, and what with beingwet through, he was completely knocked up; so I offered to take the bagfor him, and send it over to-morrow by one of our people. But the poorfellow would n't consent, because he was charged with something ofconsequence for you,--a small bottle of medicine. Of course I was onlytoo happy to take this also, Mrs. Nelligan, and here it is.' And withthat she put it on the table, where you see it. I 'm sure I never knewhow to thank her enough for her good nature, but I said all that I couldthink of, and told her that my son was just come back from college,after getting the gold medal."

  "You did n't speak of that, mother," said he, blushing till his veryforehead was crimson.

  "Indeed, then, I did, Joe; and I 'd like to know why I would n't. Is ita shame or a disgrace to us! At any rate, _she_ didn't think so, for shesaid, 'You must be very proud of him;' and I told her so I was, and thathe was as good as he was clever; and, moreover, that the newspapers saidthe time was coming when men like young Nelligan would soar their way upto honors and distinctions in spite of the oppressive aristocracy thatso long had combined to degrade them."

  "Good Heavens! mother, you could n't have made such a speech as that?"cried he, in a voice of downright misery.

  "Did n't I, then? And did n't she say, if there were any such oppressionas could throw obstacles in the way of deserving merit, she heartilyhoped it might prove powerless; and then she got up to wish megood-evening. I thought, at first, a little stiffly,--that is, morehaughty in her manner than at first; but when I arose to see her out,and she saw I was lame, she pressed me down into my chair, and said, insuch a kind voice, 'You must n't stir, my dear Mrs. Nelligan. I, who canfind my road over half of the county, can surely discover my way to thedoor.' 'Am I ever like to have the happiness of seeing you again, miss?'said I, as I held her hand in mine. 'Certainly, if it would give you thevery slightest pleasure,' said she, pressing my hand most cordially; andwith that we parted. Indeed, I scarce knew she was gone, when I heardthe clattering of the horse over the shingle; for she was away ina gallop, dark as the night was. Maybe," added the old lady, with asigh,--"maybe, I 'd have thought it was all a dream if it was n't that Ifound that glove of hers on the floor; she dropped it, I suppose, goingout."

  Young Nelligan took up the glove with a strange feeling of bashfulreverence. It was as though he was touching a sacred relic; and he stoodgazing on it steadfastly for some seconds.

  "I 'll send it over to the house by Biddy, with my compliments, and toknow how the family is, in the morning," said Mrs. Nelligan, with theair of one who knew the value of conventional usages.

  "And she 'll make some stupid blunder or other," replied Joe,impatiently, "that will cover us all with shame. No, mother, I 'd rathergo with it myself than that."

  "To be sure, and why not?" said Mrs. Nelligan. "There 's no reason why_you_ should be taking up old quarrels against the Martins; for _my_part, I never knew the country so pleasant as it used to be long ago,when we used to get leave to go picnicking on the grounds of Cro'Martin, up to the Hermitage, as they called it; and now the gates arelocked and barred like a jail, and nobody allowed in without a ticket."

  "Yes, I'll go myself with it," said Joe, who heard nothing ofhis mother's remark, but was following out the tract of his ownspeculations. As little did he attend to the various suggestions shethrew out for his guidance and direction, the several topics to which hemight, and those to which he must not, on any account, allude.

  "Not a word, for your life, Joe, about the right of pathway to CluneAbbey, and take care you say nothing about the mill-race at Glandaff,nor the shooting in Kyle's Wood. And if by any chance there should be atalk about the tolls at Oughterard, say you never heard of them before.Make out, in fact," said she, summing up, "as if you never heard ofa county where there was so much good-will and kindness between thepeople; and sure it is n't your fault if it's not true!" And with thisphilosophic reflection Mrs. Nelligan wished her son good-night, andretired.