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

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XV. "A RUINED FORTUNE"

  No stronger contrast could be presented than that offered by the housewhich called Mr. Magennis master, to all the splendor and elegancewhich distinguished Cro' Martin. Built on the side of a bleak, barrenmountain, without a trace of cultivation,--not even a tree besideit,--the coarse stone walls, high pitched roof, and narrow windowsseemed all devised in some spirit of derision towards its gracefulneighbor. A low wall, coped with a formidable "frieze" of broken bottlesand crockery, enclosed a space in front once destined for a garden, butleft in its original state of shingle, intermixed with the remnants ofbuilding materials and scaffold planks. A long shed, abutting on thehouse, sheltered a cow and a horse; the latter standing with his headabove a rickety half-door, and looking ruefully out at the dismallandscape beneath him.

  Most of the windows were broken,--and in some no attempt at repairhad been made,--indicating that the rooms within were left unused. Thehall-door stood ajar, but fastened by a strong iron chain; but the roof,more than all besides, bespoke decay and neglect, the rafters being inmany places totally bare, while in others some rude attempts at tilingcompensated for the want of the original slates. A strong colony ofjackdaws had established themselves in one of the chimneys; but fromanother, in the centre of the building, a thick volume of dark-bluesmoke rolled continually, conveying, indeed, the only sign of habitationabout this dreary abode.

  The inside of the house was, if possible, more cheerless than the out.Most of the rooms had never been finished, and still remained in theircoarse brown plaster, and unprovided with grates or chimney-pieces.The parlor, _par excellence_, was a long, low-ceilinged chamber, withyellow-ochre walls, dimly lighted by two narrow windows; its furniture,a piece of ragged carpet beneath a rickety table of black mahogany, somehalf-dozen crazy chairs, and a small sideboard, surmounted by somethingthat might mean buffet or bookcase, and now served for both, beingindifferently garnished with glasses, decanters, and thumbed volumes,intermingled with salt-cellars, empty sauce-bottles, and a powder-flask.

  An atrociously painted picture of an officer in scarlet uniform hungover the fireplace, surmounted by an infantry sword, suspended by amuch-worn sash. These were the sole decorations of the room, to whicheven the great turf fire that blazed on the hearth could not impart alook of comfort.

  It was now a little after nightfall; the shutters were closed, andtwo attenuated tallow candles dimly illuminated this dreary chamber.A patched and much discolored tablecloth, with some coarse knives andforks, bespoke preparation for a meal, and some half-dozen plates stoodwarming before the fire. But the room had no occupant; and, exceptfor the beating of the shutters against the sash, as the wind whistledthrough the broken window, all was silent within it. Now and then a loudnoise would resound through the house; doors would bang, and raftersrattle, as the hall-door would be partially opened to permit the head ofa woman to peer out and listen if any one were coming; but a heavysigh at each attempt showed that hope was still deferred, and the wearyfootfall of her steps, as she retired, betrayed disappointment. It wasafter one of these excursions that she sat down beside the kitchenfire, screening her face from the blaze with her apron, and then, in thesubdued light, it might be seen that, although bearing many traces ofsorrow and suffering, she was still young and handsome. Large masses ofthe silkiest brown hair, escaping from her cap, fell in heavy masseson her neck; her eyes were large and blue, and shaded by the longestlashes; her mouth, a little large, perhaps, was still beautifullyformed, and her teeth were of surpassing whiteness. The expressionof the whole face was of gentle simplicity and love,--love in whichtimidity, however, deeply entered, and made the feeling one of acutesuffering. In figure and dress she was exactly like any other peasantgirl, a gaudy silk handkerchief on her neck being the only articleof assumed luxury in her costume. She wore shoes, it is true,--notaltogether the custom of country girls,--but they were heavy andcoarsely made, and imparted to her walk a hobbling motion that detractedfrom her appearance.

  A large pot which hung suspended by a chain above the fire seemed todemand her especial care, and she more than once removed the woodencover to inspect the contents; after which she invariably approached thewindow to listen, and then came back sorrowfully to her place, her lipsmuttering some low sounds inaudibly. Once she tried to hum a part of asong to try and beguile the time, but the effort was a failure, and, asher voice died away, two heavy tears stole slowly along her cheeks,and a deep sob burst from her; after which she threw her apron over herface, and buried her head in her lap. It was as she sat thus that a loudknocking shook the outer door, and the tones of a gruff voice rose evenabove the noise; but she heard neither. Again and again was the summonsrepeated, with the same result; and at last a handful of coarse gravelstruck the kitchen window with a crash that effectually aroused her, andspringing up in terror, she hastened to the door.

  In an instant she had unhooked the heavy chain, and sheltering thecandle with her hand, admitted a large powerfully built man, who wasscarcely within the hall when he said angrily, "Where the devil wereyou, that you could n't hear me?"

  "I was in the kitchen, Tom," said she.

  "Don't call _me_ Tom, d----n you," replied he, violently. "Don't keepdinning into me the infernal fool that I've made of myself, or it willbe worse for you."

  "Sure I never meant any harm by it; and it was your own self bid medo it," said she, meekly, as she assisted him to remove his drippinggreat-coat.

  "And don't I rue it well?" rejoined he, through his half-closed teeth."Isn't it this confounded folly that has shut me out of the best housesin the county? My bitter curse on the day and the hour I first saw you!"

  "Oh, don't say them words,--don't, or you'll break my poor heart," criedshe, clinging to him as he strode angrily into the parlor.

  "Be off with you,--be off to the kitchen, and leave me quiet," said he,rudely.

  "There 's your slippers, sir," said she, meekly, as, bending down, sheuntied his heavy shooting-shoes, and replaced them by a pair of listones.

  "Is the dinner ready?" asked he, sternly.

  "It is, sir; but Massin'bred is n't come back."

  "And who the devil is Massingbred? Don't you think he might be MisterMassingbred out of _your_ mouth?"

  "I ax your pardon, sir, and his, too; but I didn't mean--"

  "There, there,--away with you!" cried he, impatiently. "I 'm never in abad humor that you don't make me worse." And he leaned his face betweenhis hands over the fire, while she slipped noiselessly from the room.

  "Maybe he thinks he's doing me honor by staying here," burst he forth,suddenly, as he sprang to his legs and stared angrily around him. "Maybehe supposes that it's great condescension for him to put up with myhumble house! Ay, and that it's _my_ bounden duty to wait for _him_ toany hour he pleases. If I thought he did,--if I was sure of it!"added he, with a deep guttural tone, while he struck his clenched fistviolently against the chimney-piece. Then, seizing the large iron poker,he knocked loudly with it against the back of the fireplace,--a summonsquickly answered by the appearance of the girl at the door.

  "Did he come in since morning?" asked he, abruptly.

  "No, sir, never," replied she, with a half courtesy.

  "Nor say what time he 'd be back?"

  "Not a word, sir."

  "Then, maybe, he's not coming back,--taken French leave, as they callit, eh, Joan?"

  The sound of her name, spoken, too, in an accent of more friendlymeaning, lighted up her face at once, and her large eyes swam in tearsof gratitude towards him as she stood there.

  "But he 'd scarcely dare to do that!" said he, sternly.

  "No, sir," said she, echoing half unconsciously his opinion.

  "And what do _you_ know about it?" said he, turning savagely on her."Where were you born and bred, to say what any gentleman might do, atany time, or in anything? Is it Joan Landy, the herd's daughter, isgoing to play fine lady upon us! Faix, we 're come to a pretty pass now,in earnest! Be off with you! Away! Stop, what was
that? Did n't you heara shot?"

  "I did, sir,--quite near the house, too."

  A sharp knocking now on the hall-door decided the question, and Magennishastened to admit the arrival.

  It is a strange fact, and one of which we are satisfied merely to makemention, without attempting in the least to explain, but no sooner wasMagennis in the presence of his young guest, than not only he seemed toforget all possible cause of irritation towards him, but to behavewith a manner of, for him, the most courteous civility. He aided himto remove his shot-belt and his bag; took his hat from his hands, andcarefully wiped it; placed a chair for him close to the fire; andthen, as he turned to address him, remarked for the first time theblood-stained handkerchief which still bound his forehead.

  "Did you fall,--had you an accident?" asked he, eagerly.

  "No," said the other, laughing; "a bit of an adventure only, which I 'lltell you after dinner."

  "Was it any of the people? Had you a fight--"

  "Come, Magennis, you must exercise a little patience. Not a word, not asyllable, till I have eaten something, for I am actually famishing."

  A stout knock of the poker on the chimney summoned the dinner, andalmost in the same instant the woman entered with a smoking dish ofIrish stew.

  "Mrs. Joan, you're an angel," said Massingbred; "if there was a dishI was longing for on this cold, raw day, it was one of your gloriousmesses. They seem made for the climate, and by Jove, the climate forthem. I say, Mac, does it always rain in this fashion here?"

  "No; it sleets now and then, and sometimes blows."

  "I should think it does," said Jack, seating himself at the table. "Thepleasant little slabs of marble one sees on the cabin-roofs to keepdown the thatch are signs of your western zephyrs. Mrs. Joan has outdoneherself today. This is first-rate."

  "There's too strong a flavor of hare in it," said Magen-nis, critically.

  "That's exactly its perfection; the wild savor lifts it out of thevulgar category of Irish stews, and assimilates it, but not too closely,to the ragout. I tell you, Mac, there's genius in the composition ofthat gravy."

  The partial pedantry of this speech was more than compensated for by theracy enjoyment of the speaker, and Magennis was really gratified at thezest with which his young friend relished his meal.

  "It has one perfection, at least," said he, modestly,--"it 's veryunlike what you get at home."

  "We have a goodish sort of a cook," said Jack, languidly,--"a fellowmy father picked up after the Congress of Verona. Truffles and treatiesseem to have some strong sympathetic attraction, and when diplomacy hadfinished its work, a _chef_ was to be had cheap! The worst of the classis, they 'll only functionate for your grand dinners and they leave yourevery-day meal to some inferior in the department."

  It was strange that Magennis could listen with interest always wheneverMassingbred spoke of habits, people, and places with which he hadnever been conversant. It was not so much for the topics themselveshe cared,--they were, in reality, valueless in his eyes,--it was somesingular pleasure he felt in thinking that the man who could so discussthem was his own guest, seated at his own table, thus connecting himselfby some invisible link with the great ones of this world!

  Massingbred's very name--the son of the celebrated Moore Massingbred--aTreasury Lord--Heaven knows what else besides--certainly a RightHonorable--was what first fascinated him in his young acquaintance,and induced him to invite him to his house. Jack would probably havedeclined the invitation, but it just came at the moment when he wasdeeply mortified at Nelligan's absence,--an absence which old Dan wastotally unable to explain or account for. Indeed, he had forgotten that,in his note to his son, he had not mentioned Massingbred by name, andthus was he left to all the embarrassment of an apology without theslightest clew as to the nature of the excuse.

  No sooner, then, was it apparent to Massingbred that young Nelligan didnot intend to return home, than he decided on taking his own departure.At first he determined on going back to Dublin; but suddenly a maliciousthought sprung up of all, the mortification it might occasion Joeto learn that he was still in the neighborhood; and with the amiableanticipation of this vengeance, he at once accepted Magennis's offer to"accompany him to his place in the mountains, and have some shooting."

  It would not have been easy to find two men so essentially unlike inevery respect as these two, who now sat discussing their punch afterdinner. In birth, bringing-up, habits, instincts, they were widelydissimilar, and yet, somehow, they formed a sort of companionshippalatable to each. Each had something to tell the other which he hadeither not heard before, or not heard in the same way. We have alreadyadverted to the strong fascination Magen-nis experienced in dwelling onthe rank and social position of his young guest. Massingbred experiencedno less delight in the indulgence of his favorite pastime,--adventurehunting. Now, here was really something like adventure,--this wild, rudemountain home, this strange compound of gloom and passion, this poorsimple country girl, more than servant, less than wife,--all separatedfrom the remainder of the world by a gulf wider than mere space. Thesewere all ingredients more than enough to suggest matter for imagination,and food for after-thought in many a day to come.

  They had thus passed part of a week in company, when the incidentoccurred of which our last chapter makes mention, and an account ofwhich, now, Massingbred proceeded to give his host, neither exaggeratingnor diminishing in the slightest particular any portion of the event.He even repressed his habitual tendency to sarcasm, and spoke of hisantagonist seriously and respectfully. "It was quite clear," said he,in conclusion, "that he did n't know I was a gentleman, and consequentlynever anticipated the consequence of a blow."

  "And he struck you?" broke in Magennis, violently.

  "You shall see for yourself," said Jack, smiling, as, untying thehandkerchief, he exhibited a deep cut on his forehead, from which theblood still continued to ooze.

  "Let Joan doctor you; she's wonderful at a cut. She has something theycall Beggarman's Balsam. I 'll fetch her." And without waiting for areply he left the room. The young woman speedily after appeared withsome lint and a small pot of ointment, proceeding to her office withall the quiet assiduity of a practised hand, and a gentleness that few"regulars" could vie with. Her skill was more than recompensed by thefew muttered words of praise Magennis bestowed, as he grumbled out, halfto himself: "Old Cahill himself could n't do it better. I 'd back herfor a bandage against the College of Surgeons. Ain't ye easier now?--tobe sure you are. She 's good for _that_ if she is for nothing else!"And even this much of eulogy made her bosom heave proudly, and brought aflush of joy over her cheek that was ecstasy itself.

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  The world is not deficient in acts of kindness, benevolence, andgood-will. There is a large fountain of these running in ten thousandrills. But how many more might there not be,--how much of this wealthmight there not be dispensed, and nobody living one jot the poorer! Howmany are there toiling away in obscurity and narrow fortune, to whom onesingle word of praise--one chance syllable of encouragement--would belife's blood! What sunken cheeks and lacklustre eyes would glow andgladden again by even a look of sympathy, withheld from no lack ofkindliness, but mere want of thought! Oh ye who have station and fame,genius or greatness, bethink ye that these gifts are never higherthan when they elevate the humble and cheer the lowly, and there is nophysician like him who animates the drooping heart, and gives new vigorto wearied faculties and failing energy. Joan was made happy by thetwo or three words of grateful thanks Massingbred addressed to her, andstole quietly away, leaving the two companions once more alone.

  If there was any incident in life participation in which could conveyintense gratification to Magennis, it was that sort of difference ormisunderstanding that might lead to a duel. Whenever the affair offeredno other alternative, his delight was unbounded. There were, it wasrumored events in his own early life which would imply that thetaste for mortal combat extended only to cases where his friends wereconcerned, and had no selfish
application whatever. Of these we knownothing; nor, indeed, have we any information to convey regarding him,save by chance and stray words dropped by himself in the unguardedhours of after-dinner converse. There are, however, many who like thesubordinate parts in this world's comedy,--who would rather be best manthan bridegroom, and infinitely prefer performing second to principal.

  We are not, however, going into the inquiry as to the cause; enough whenwe repeat that this was Magennis's great passion, and these were thekind of events for whose conduct and management he believed himself topossess the most consummate tact and ability.

  "You 're in luck, Massingbred," cried he, as the other concluded hisrecital,--"you're in luck, sir, to have for your friend one that, thoughI say it myself, has n't his equal for a case like this in the threekingdoms. It was I, sir, took out Cahill when he shot Major Harris, ofthe Fusiliers. I handled him that morning in a way that made the Englishofficers confess there was no chance against us! A duel seems an easything to arrange. You 'd say that any fool could put up two men, twelveor even ten paces asunder, and tell them to blaze away; and if thatwas all there was in it, it would be simple enough. But consider fora minute the real case, and just remember how much the nature of theground, whether level or uneven, has to do with it; what's behind,--if awall, or trees, or only sky; the state of the light; how the sun stands;whether there 's wind, and what way it's coming. These are not all.There's the pistols,--how they _'throw,'_ and with what charge; and thenthere 's the size of your man. Ay, Massingbred, and let me tell you, younow see before you the man that invented the 'invulnerable position.'"

  "By Jove! that's a most valuable fact to me just now," said Jack,helping himself to a fresh tumbler. "I 'm glad you have not beenretained by the other side."

  "The 'invulnerable position'!" continued Magennis, perfectly heedlessof the other's remark; while, taking up the poker, he stalked out tothe middle of the room, drawing himself up to his full height, andpresenting, as though with a pistol,--"Do you see what I mean?" criedhe.

  "I can't say I do," said Jack, hesitatingly.

  "I thought not," rejoined the other, proudly; "nobody ever did that wasn't 'out' often. Pay attention now, and I 'll explain it. My head,you perceive, is carried far behind my right shoulder, so as to becompletely protected by my pistol-hand and the pistol. I say the pistol,because it has been proved scientifically that the steadiest eye thatever fired never could aim at the antagonist's pistol. Morris Croftonpractised it for eight years in his own garden; and though he didsucceed, he told me that for practical purposes it was no use. Now wecome to the neck, and you may observe the bend of my elbow. Ay, thatlittle angle that nobody would remark masks the jugular arteries, andall the other vital nerves in that part. John Toler used to say thatthe head and neck was like the metropolis, and that a shot elsewhere wasonly like a 'row' in the provinces; and a very true and wise remark itwas. Not that I neglect the trunk," added he, proudly; "for you seehow I stand,--three-quarters of the back towards the enemy so as not toexpose the soft parts. As for the legs," cried he, contemptuously, "letthem crack at them as long as they like."

  "And that 's the 'invulnerable position,'" said Massing-bred; with lessenthusiasm, however, than the discovery might seem to warrant.

  "It is, sir; and if it was n't for it there 's many a strapping fellowwalking about this day-that would be lying with a marble counterpaneover him. Billy Welsh, that fought Brian of Deanstown, was the first manI ever 'put up' in it. Billy had a slight crick of the neck, and couldn't get the head far enough round to the right, and the ball took himin the bridge of the nose, and carried that feature clean off, but neverdamaged him in any other respect whatever!"

  "I must say that the loss was quite sufficient for a man who had thebenefit of the 'invulnerable position,'" said Massingbred, quietly.

  "He thinks nothing of it. A chap in the Crow Street Theatre made him abetter nose than ever he had, out of wax, I believe; and he has a winterone, with a blush of red on it, to make believe it was cold; and theytell me you 'd never discover it was n't his own."

  Magennis had now resumed his place at table, and seemed bent on makingup for lost time by giving double measure of whiskey to his punch.

  "You say that he's to be in Oughterard to-night; well, with the blessingof the Virgin,"--an invocation he invariably applied to every actof dubious morality,--"we 'll be with him before he's out of bedto-morrow!"

  "I wish he had not given me a blow," said Jack, musingly. "He seemedsuch a stout-hearted, spirited old fellow, I'm really grieved to quarrelwith him."

  "I'm glad that there's nobody to hear them words but myself, Mr.Massingbred," said the other, with all the slowness and deliberation ofincipient drunkenness; "I'm rejoiced, sir, that it's in the confidentialintercourse of friendly--friendly--communication--that the son of my oldand valued friend--Moore Massingbred--used expressions like that."

  Jack started with amazement at this speech; he had not the slightestsuspicion till that moment that Magennis and his father had ever knowneach other, or even met. A very little patience, however, on his partserved to solve the difficulty; for he discovered that one of thepeculiarities of this stage of his friend's ebriety was to fancyhimself the intimate and associate of any one whose name he had everheard mentioned.

  "Ay, sir, them's words your father would never have uttered. I was withhim in his first blaze. 'Moore,' says I, 'have n't you a pair of blackbreeches?'--he wore a pair of web 'tights' of a light pattern--What areyou laughing at, sir?" cried he, sternly, and striking the table withhis clenched knuckles, till the glasses all rang on it.

  "I was laughing at my father's costume," said Jack, who really toldthe truth; such a portrait of his parent's appearance being manifestlyunlike anything he had ever imagined.

  "And the worse manners yours, sir," rejoined Magennis, rudely. "I' llnot suffer any man to laugh at an old friend--and--and--schoolfellow!"

  It was with the very greatest difficulty that Jack could restrainhimself at this peroration, which indignation--the same, probably, thatcreates poets--had suggested. He had, however, tact enough to preservehis gravity, whilst he assured his companion that no unfilial sentimenthad any share in his thoughts.

  "So far, so well," said Magennis, who now helped himself to the whiskey,unadulterated by any water; "otherwise, sir, it's not LieutenantMagennis, of the--9th Foot, would handle you on the ground to-morrow!"

  "So, then, you've served, Mac? Why, you never broke that to me before!"

  "Broke!" cried the other, with a voice shrill from passion, while hemade an effort to rise from his chair, and sunk back again,--"broke; whodares to say I was broke? I left the scoundrels myself. I shook thedust off my feet after them. There never was a court-martial about it.Never--never!" To the deep crimson that suffused his face before, therenow succeeded an almost death-like pallor, and Massingbred really feltterrified at the change. Some heart-rending recollection seemed suddenlyto have cleared his brain, routing in an instant all the effects ofintoxication, and restoring him to sobriety and sorrow together.

  "Ay," said he, in a low, broken voice, and still speaking to himself,"that finished me! I never held my head up again! Who could, after sucha business? I came here, Mr. Massingbred," continued he, but addressinghis guest in a tone of deep respect,--"I came back here a ruined man,and not eight-and-twenty! You see me now, a dirty, drunken sot, notbetter dressed nor better mannered than the commonest fellow on theroad, and yet I'm a gentleman born and bred, well nurtured, and welleducated. I took a college degree and went into the army." He paused, asif trying to gather courage to go on; the effort was more than he couldaccomplish, and, as the heavy tears stole slowly down his cheeks, theagony of the struggle might be detected. Half mechanically he seizedthe decanter of whiskey and poured the tumbler nearly full; but Jackgood-humoredly stretched out his hand towards the glass, and said,"Don't drink, Mac; there's no head could stand it."

  "You think so, boy," cried he, with a saucy smile. "Little you know theway we live in
the West, here;" and he tossed off the liquor before theother could stop him. The empty glass had scarcely been replaced on thetable, when all the former signs of drunkenness had come back again, andin his bloodshot eyes and swollen veins might be seen the very type ofpassionate debauch.

  "Not ask me to their houses!" cried he, hoarse with passion. "Who wantsthem? Not invite me! Did I ever seek them? The dirty, mean spalpeens,don't I know the history of every one of them? Could n't I expose themfrom one end of the county to the other? Who 's Blake of Harris-town? He's the son of Lucky Magarry, the pedler. You don't believe me. I hadit from Father Cole himself. Lucky was hanged at Ennis. 'Ye want aconfession!' says Lucky, when he came out on the drop; 'ye want aconfession! Well, I suppose there's no use in keeping anything backnow, for ye 'll hang me at any rate, and so here it's for you. It was Imurdered Mr. Shea, and there was nobody helping me at all. I did it allmyself with a flail; and be the same token, it 's under Mark Bindon'stombstone this minute. There now, the jury may be azy in their minds,and the judge, and the hangman, too, if he cares about it. As for hishonor the high sheriff,' said he, raising his voice, 'he 's a fineman, God bless him, and the county may be proud of him; for it was heferreted out all about this business! And faix, notwithstanding all, I'm proud of him myself, for he 's my own son!' And as he said that hedropped on his knees and cried out that he might never see glory ifthere was a word of lie in anything he said then! So that's what Blakegot for his zeal for justice!"

  And as Magennis finished, he burst into a wild, fiendish laugh, andsaid,--

  "There 's the country gentry--there 's the people won't know Magennisand his wife!--ay, sir, his lawful, married wife! Let me see that youor any other man will deny it, or refuse to treat her as becomes herstation.--Joan! Joan!" shouted he, striking the poker violently againstthe chimney; and with hot haste and intense anxiety the poor girl rushedinto the room the moment after. "Sit down here, ma'am," said Magennis,rising, and placing a chair for her beside his own, with an affectationof courtesy that savored of mockery,--"sit down, I say," cried he,stamping his foot passionately. "That's my wife, sir! No man that sitsat _my_ board shall behave to her as anything else."

  "I have ever treated her with respect," said Massingbred, "and shallalways continue to do so."

  "And it's better for you to do so," said the other, fiercely, thebullying spirit rising on what he deemed the craven submission of hisguest.

  Meanwhile the girl sat trembling with terror, not knowing what the sceneportended, or how it was to end.

  "The herd's daughter, indeed! No, sir, Mrs. Magennis, of Barnagheela,that's her name and title!"

  At these words the poor girl, overcome with joy and gratitude, felldown upon her knees before him, and, clasping his hand, covered it withkisses.

  "Is n't that pretty breeding!" cried Magennis, violently. "Get up,ma'am, and sit on your chair like a lady. The devil a use in it, do whatyou will, say what you will,--the bad 'drop' is in them; and whateverbecomes of you in life, Massingbred, let me give you this advice,--nevermarry beneath you!"

  Jack contrived at this juncture to signal to the girl to step away;and by appearing to attend with eagerness to Magennis, he prevented hisremarking her exit.

  "A man 's never really ruined till then," continued he, slowly, andevidently sobering again as he went on. "Friends fall away from you, andyour companions are sure to be fellows with something against them!You begin by thinking you 're doing a grand and a courageous thing! Youstring up your resolution to despise the world, and, take my word forit, the world pays you off at last. Ay," said he, after a long pause, inwhich his features settled down into an expression of deep sorrow, andhis voice quivered with emotion,--"ay, and I 'll tell you somethingworse than all,--you revenge all your disappointment on the poor girlthat trusted you! and you break _her_ heart to try and heal your own!"

  With these last words he buried his head between his hands and sobbedfearfully.

  "Leave me now,--leave me alone," said he, without lifting his head."Good-night--good-night to you!"

  Massingbred arose without a word, and, taking a candle, ascended to hischamber, his last thoughts about his host being very unlike those withwhich he had first regarded him. From these considerations he turnedto others more immediately concerning himself; nor could he conquer hismisgivings that Magennis was a most unhappy selection for a friend insuch an emergency.

  "But then I really am without a choice," said he to himself. "JoeNelligan, perhaps, might--but no, he would have been infinitely moreunfit than the other. At all events, Nelligan has himself severed thefriendship that once existed between us." And so he wandered on tothoughts of his former companionship with him. Regretful and gloomyenough were they, as are all memories of those in whose hearts we oncebelieved we had a share, and from which we cannot reconcile ourselves tothe exclusion.

  "He had not the manliness to meet me when I had become aware of his realstation! What a poor-spirited fellow! Just as if I cared what or who hisfather was! _My_ theory is, Jack Massingbred can afford to know any manhe pleases! Witness the roof that now shelters me, and the character ofhim who is my host!"

  It was a philosophy he built much upon, for it was a form of self-lovethat simulated a good quality, many of his acquaintances saying, "At allevents, there 's no snobbery about Massingbred; he 'll know, and evenbe intimate with, anybody." Nor did the deception only extend to others.Jack himself fancied he was an excellent fellow,--frank, generous, andopen-hearted.

  It is a very strange fact--and fact it certainly is--that the men whoreason most upon their own natures, look inwardly at their own minds,and scrutinize most their own motives, are frequently the least naturalof all mankind! This self-inquiry is such thorough self-deception thathe who indulges in it often becomes an actor. As for Massingbred, therewas nothing real about him save his egotism! Gifted with very goodabilities, aided by a strong "vitality," he had great versatility; butof all powers, this same plastic habit tends most to render a manartificial.

  Now, his present difficulty was by no means to his taste. He did notlike his "quarrel;" he liked less the age and station of his adversary;and least of all was he pleased with the character of his "friend." Itwas said of Sheridan, that when consulted about the music of his operas,he only asked, "Will it grind?"--that is, would it be popular enough fora street organ, and become familiar to every ear? So Jack Massingbredregarded each event in life by the test of how it would "tell," in whatwise could a newspaper report it, and how would it read in the Clubs? Hefancied himself discussing the adventure at "White's," and asking, "Canany one say what Massingbred's row was about? Was he poaching?--or howcame he there? Was there a woman in it? And who is his friend Magennis?"In thoughts like these he passed hour after hour, walking his room fromend to end, and waiting for morning.

  At length he bethought him how little likely it was that Magennis wouldremember anything whatever of the transaction, and that his late debauchmight obliterate all memory of the affair. "What if this were to bethe case, and that we were to arrive too late at Oughterard? A prettyversion would the papers then publish to the world!" Of all possiblecasualties this was the very worst; and the more he reflected on it, themore probable did it seem. "He is the very fellow to wake up late in theafternoon, rub his eyes, and declare he had forgotten the whole thing."

  "This will never do!" muttered he to himself; and at once determinedthat he would make an endeavor to recall his friend to consciousness,and come to some arrangement for the approaching meeting. Massingbreddescended the stairs with noiseless steps, and gently approaching thedoor of the sitting-room, opened it.

  Magennis was asleep, his head resting upon the table, and his heavybreathing denoting how deeply he slumbered. On a low stool at his feetsat Joan, pale and weary-looking, her cheeks still marked with recenttears, and the dark impression of what seemed to have been a blowbeneath her eye. Jack approached her cautiously, and asked if it werehis custom to pass the night thus.

  "Sometimes, when he 's tired--wh
en he has anything on his mind," repliedshe, in some confusion, and averting her head so as to escape notice.

  "And when he awakes," said Jack, "he will be quite refreshed, and hishead all clear again?"

  "By coorse he will!" said she, proudly. "No matter what he took of anight, nobody ever saw the signs of it on him the next morning."

  "I did not ask out of any impertinent curiosity," continued Massingbred;"but we have, both of us, some rather important business to-morrow inOughterard. We ought to be there at an early hour."

  "I know," said she, interrupting. "He bid me bring down these;" andshe pointed to a case of pistols lying open beside her, and in cleaningwhich she had been at the moment engaged. "I brought the wrong ones,first." Here she stammered out something, and grew crimson over herwhole face; then suddenly recovering herself, said, "I did n't know itwas the 'Terries' he wanted."

  "The 'Terries'?" repeated Jack.

  "Yes, sir. It was these Terry Callaghan shot the two gentlemen with,the same morning, at Croghaglin,--father and son they were!" And sayingthese words in a voice of the most perfect unconcern possible, she tookup a flannel rag and began to polish the lock of one of the weapons.

  "They 're handsome pistols," said Jack, rather amused with her remark.

  "They 're good, and that's better!" replied she, gravely. "That one inyour hand has seven double crosses on the stock and nine single."

  "The seven were killed on the ground, I suppose?"

  A short nod of assent was her reply.

  "Such little events are not unfrequent down here, then?"

  "Anan!" said she, not understanding his question.

  Jack quickly perceived that he had not taken sufficient account ofJoan's limited acquaintance with language, and said,--

  "They often fight in these parts?"

  "Ayeh! not now," replied she, in a half-deploring tone. "My fatherremembers twenty duels for one that does be nowadays."

  "A great change, indeed."

  "Some say it's all for the better," resumed she, doubtfully. "Buthush,--he's stirring; leave him quiet, and I 'll call you when he'sready."

  "And I can depend--"

  "To be sure you can. He forgets many a thing; but no man living cansay that he ever misremembered a duel." And with these words, in a lowwhisper, she motioned Massingbred to the door.

  Jack obeyed in silence, and, ascending to his room, lay down on the bed.He determined to pass the interval before morning in deep thought andself-examination; but, somehow, he had scarcely laid his head on thepillow when he fell off into a heavy sleep, sound and dreamless.

  The day was just breaking when he was aroused by a somewhat rude shake,and a voice saying,--

  "Come, up with you. We 've a sharp ride before us!"

  Jack started up, and in an instant recalled all the exigencies of thehour.

  "I have sent the 'tools' forward by a safe hand," continued Magennis;"and Joan has a cup of tea ready for us below stairs. So lose no timenow, and let us be off."

  The humble meal that awaited them was soon despatched, and they werespeedily mounted on the pair of mountain ponies Magennis had provided,and whose equipments, even in the half-light of the morning,rather shocked Mas-singbred's notions of propriety,--one of hisstirrup-leathers being a foot shorter than the other, while an oldworsted bell-rope formed the snaffle-rein of his bridle.

  The road, too, was rugged and precipitous, and many a stumble andscramble had they in the uncertain light; while the swooping raindashed violently against them, and effectually precluded all thought ofconversation. Two hours, that seemed like ten, brought them at lengthupon the highroad; after which, by a brisk canter of forty minutes, theyreached Oughterard.

  "Let us dismount here," said Jack, as they gained the outskirts of thetown, not fancying to make a public appearance on his humble steed.

  "Why so?" answered Magennis. "It's ashamed of the pony you are! Oh, forthe matter of that, don't distress yourself; we 're too well used tothem in these parts to think them ridiculous."

  There was a soreness and irritation in his tone which Jack quicklyremarked, and as quickly tried to obviate, by some good-natured remarkabout the good qualities of the animals; but Magennis heard him withoutattention, and seemed entirely immersed in his own thoughts.

  "Turn in there, to your left," cried he, suddenly, and they wheeled intoan arched gateway that opened upon the stable-yard of the inn. Earlyas it was, the place was full of bustle and movement; for it was themarket-day, and the farmers were already arriving.

  Carts, cars, gigs, and a dozen other nameless vehicles crowded the spot,with kicking ponies and mules of malicious disposition; grooming andshoeing and unharnessing went on, with a noise and merriment that wasperfectly deafening; and Massingbred, as he threaded his way through thecrowd, soon perceived how little notice he was likely to attract in suchan assembly. Magennis soon dismounted, and having given directions aboutthe beasts, led Jack into the house, and up a narrow, creaking stairinto a small room, with a single window, and a bed in one corner. "Thisis where I always put up," said he, laying down his hat and whip, "andit will do well enough for the time we 'll want it."