"The fust of de mont," said Darby. "I never missed it yet." "Did ye do your pinnance?" asked his mother.

"I did, begor, twice over, for fear I'd make a mistake"; said Darby confidently.

"Thin, you'll go to the priesht agin next Saturday, and tell him of your bad talk; an' av I don't see you at the althar Sunday morning, cut the head aff av me if you inter this cabin agin!"

It will be seen from this that Mrs. Leary's temper was variable; and really Darby, after all his experience, didn't know, as he said, "Whin he had her." Sometimes when Darby was facetious, and put on the airs of a fine gentleman, Mrs. Leary was amused, and even proud of her poor boy. When, for example, Darby rushed in with a ploughman's appetite and in glorious spirits, and demanded, in an affected accent:

"What for dinner to-dee, mudder ?" the old woman would answer good humoredly :

"Oh! everything, everything, yer 'anner; and plinty of it!" "Shawl we have roshe-beef to-dee, mudder?"

"To be sure, to be sure; an' lashin's and lavin's of it, yer 'anner!"

"An' plum-puddin', av coorse ?"

"Oh, yeh; av coorse, yer 'anner. Is there annythin' else yer 'anner 'ud like?"

"Lemme see ! No; I think that'll do!" And Darby would sit down with a relish to the potatoes and salt, sometimes improved with a little dip; and the old mother would think:

"Wisha, who knows? Quarer things happen. Look at Mrs. Mulcahy's boy, that I knew a bare-legged gossoon, like Darby, a few years ago; and look at him now home from America. Why the masther is not aiqual to him. And perhaps, who knows, wan of thim foine ladies may take a fancy to me poor bhoy-sure, he's straight as a pike-staff, and as light on his feet as a bird. And, shure, didn't ould Captain Curtis' daughter elope wid the coachman? Not that I'd be wishin' that, God forbid! Shure, his soul is fust and foremost! But, if it was right, an' they had the priesht's blessin'-"

So the maternal fancy wandered, throwing up its little castles here and there, whilst Darby, with much emphasis, gobbled up the floury potatoes and swilled the skim-milk from his wooden porringer.

But, once or twice, Mrs. Leary caught Darby suddenly "doin' the gran' gintleman," and she resented it. For when she caught Darby in the kitchen, the sugan chair tilted back, till it nearly upset the centre of gravity, whilst Darby with crossed legs, and an attitude of ease and voluptuousness, smoked a cigarette of brown paper or straw, she gave him the bellows across his back, and sent him howling into the haggard.

But, whilst thus maintaining proper discipline in her household, and keeping Darby within proper bounds, she never tired of hearing him talk of the "masther." What the "masther" did; what the "masther" said; how the "masther" dressed; what the "masther" ate; the "masther's" fine round curses, when he was in a passion; the "masther's" acts of generosity, when he was in a better mood; these were endless topics around that humble fireside there amongst the Kerry hills. And these gloomy December days, when the leaden skies. stooped down and wrapped mother earth in their heavy folds, and while Maxwell lay, in agony and desolation of spirit, there in Owen McAuliffe's cabin, many were the conjectures made. by the widow and son about his surroundings and occupation, and many were the hopes and wishes that the winter would swiftly pass, and the little bell-tent shine out once more down there amongst the furze and bracken in the glen.

"'Twon't be long comin' now, agra," the widow would say. "Sure the days will be lengthenin' soon; and thin we'll be into Aisther; and, sure, 'tis only a lep from that to summer. We won't know where we are, whin the Scotchman will be up here lookin' fer you agin."

"An'

"That's thrue fer you, mudder," Darby would reply. shure if the 'masther' doesn't come this time, there'll be always gintlemen at the Hotel. I hope that foxy scoundrel won't come, though; or I'll give him a worse duckin' thin he giv me, bad luck to him!"

"Sh! Shtop that cursin', Darby. 'Tis no good here nor there. An', shure, 'tis always betther say the good thing. An' the walls have ears."

"The masther wouldn't do it," Darby would reply. "He was a rale gintleman. No wan knows where the foxy fellow kem from. An', shure, I hard the byes saying that he tuk the masther's young lady away from him."

"Begor, thin, she must have the quare taste intirely to turn

her back on the masther an' go after an object like him But I wondher what's the masther doin' now?"

"Oh, shportin' an' injyin' himself, I suppose," conjectured Darby. "Yerra, what else has they to do but divartin' themselves? They gets up whin we're goin' to bed; and goes to bed whin we are gettin' up. They does everythin' by contrayries. Begor, I wouldn't be shurprised now if the masther was away in the West Injies, or some out of the way place injyin' himself; or, maybe, he's rowlin' about Dublin in his carriage with the Lord Lieutenant himself."

"You wouldn't be afther sayin' that?" said the mother. "He must be a gintleman out an' out to do that. But, shure, wherever he is, may God save him. Only for him, we wouldn't have the thatch above us to-day. I wondher will he keep it out of yer wages, Darby?"

"The masther? Not him. He thinks no more of that five pounds than you would about a thraneen of male."

"'Tis a fine thing to be rich and happy and continted," the mother would reply. "I suppose we'll have somethin' ourselves in the nixt wurruld, as we haven't much in this!"

In quite a different manner, and not with less sympathy, did the Major brood over Bob Maxwell these dark December days. His thoughts wandered after the young man, although he had cursed and blowed his folly a hundred times, and had mentally excommunicated him for his Quixotic ideas and his treacherous abandonment of his own class, and the great central dogma of ascendency.

"'Tis all d―d rot," he would often say to himself, "" this talk about justice and equality-all dd Socialism. The next thing will be the barricades and the guillotine, with all the insufferable poltroonery of this Government. But this comes from ourselves-ourselves! Good God! to think I should live to see a gentleman so forget himself! I hope the fellow, if ever he comes back alive from the hands of these moonlighters, will be ostracized, expelled, and blackballed in every club in Dublin. What will these ruffians think, by that we're afraid? And then-'tis all up. By heavens! They'd think nothing of lighting the Smithfield fires again and roasting every man of us."

But the Major had gentler moods. Thoughts of Bob-Bob, the son of his old friend; Bob, the splendid sportsman; Bob, the

soul of honor, who would no more touch another man's money than he'd take his life; Bob, who challenged that coward, Ellis, and wanted to bring back that gentlemanly amusement of dueling amongst a retrograde and cowardly generation; and Bob, who he thought would take Mabel to the altar, and be to himself a son and a support in these sad days that were stretching down the declivities of life-would come back; and sometimes Freeman, his valet, would detect him talking sadly to himself; or, be not incredulous, O reader! for human nature is always and everywhere the same, wiping his eyes secretly behind the friendly shelter of the Times. And the Major, too, had misgivings about Mabel's future-misgivings which made more poignant his anger and sorrow for Bob Maxwell. It was not only the little episode we have mentioned in a former chapter, but sundry other little things-little revelations of character in a look, in a word, in a gesture-that made the Major uneasy. Above all, there was that secret repulsion, that original, intuitive dislike for Outram, which he could not explain, which he strove to conquer, which remained in spite of every effort to dislodge it. And sometimes, although he hated and despised himself for doing so, he would speak on the subject to Free

man.

"No further telegram about Master Bob, Freeman ?"

"No, sir; I was hup at the hoffice yesterday; and they 'ave not an ideer where the master is. They thought once they 'ad 'im; but they were mistook!"

66

Oh, no matter; no matter "; the Major would say. "Only I should be glad if he were home for Miss Mabel's wedding. It would be nice!"

"Very nice, hindeed, sir! I'm quite sure both Miss Mabel and Mr. Houtram will miss 'im very much!"

And Freeman moved the Major's couch as imperturbably as if he were the impersonation of truth.

"Look here, Freeman," the Major would cry, "that's all rot. That doesn't go down with me. Do you believe that either Miss Mabel or Outram would care one jot whether Bob Maxwell was at the marriage, or half murdered down in a Kerry bog?"

"Well, sir, it's not for the likes of me to hoffer hopinions. about those above us. But I thought you would ha' liked to be told that Mr. Maxwell was still hinterested in Miss Mabel."

"And do you think he is? Come now, do you honestly believe he is?"

"No, sir; I can't say as I do. When a genelman goes away, and leaves the young lady halone, and doesn't pay 'er those hattentions that young ladies hexpec's, well, then, he can't hexpect nothin' in return."

"I'm sorry for Bob Maxwell," said the Major meditatively. "So am I, sir!" said Freeman. "And so are we hall!" "Why should you be sorry?" asked the Major.

"Because you see, sir, he's losing such a splendid gir—ahem -young lady; but we're sorry for Miss Mabel, too!"

"For Miss Mabel? Why should you be sorry for Miss Mabel?" queried the Major.

"Because we hall liked Mr. Maxwell, or Master Bob, sir! And because Mr. Houtram-"

Freeman suddenly stopped.

"Well, what about Mr. Outram ?" sharply queried the Major.

"I beg your pardin, sir. I should not ha' mentioned Mr. Houtram's name."

"That's all right. But now you have mentioned it, what is it you were about to say?"

me

"Oh, nothink, sir, nothink at all. 'Tis not for the likes of

"Stop that d--d rot, Freeman! You know me now too well to believe that kind of stuff. What were you about to say concerning Mr. Outram ?"

"Oh, nothink, sir, nothink, hi hassure you. But we do be saying among ourselves, how it were well for young ladies to know hall about their hintendeds before taking the big plunge. The cook is agoin' to be married soon to a feller from Hindia-" "Yes; I know, I know"; interrupted the Major. "What has that to do with Mr. Outram ?"

"Oh, nothink, sir, nothink; honly hi says to cook, says hi: 'You should know somethink habout the feller's hantecedents.' 'Oh,' sez she, the priest must see habout all that.' These poor Papists believe that their priests knows as much as Halmighty Gawd. 'That's hall right,' sez hi, but when the knot is tied, can the priest unloose hit?' 'No'; sez she, 'not on this side of the grave.' 'Well, then,' I sez, puttin' it plain like, if that feller has a girl or two abroad in Hindia or Haden,