The Martins Of Cro' Martin Volume I Part 27

As Repton had uttered these words, the sharp bang of a gun startled him, and at the same instant a young fellow sprang from the copse in front of him into the alley. His coa.r.s.e fustian shooting-jacket, low-crowned oil-skin hat, and leather gaiters seemed to bespeak the professional poacher, and Repton dashed forward with his heavy riding-whip upraised towards him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 206]

"Take care, old gentleman," said the young man, facing about; "my second barrel is loaded, and if you dare--"

"By Heaven! I'll thrash you, you scoundrel!" said Repton, whose pa.s.sion was now boiling over by a sudden bound of the cob, which had nearly thrown him from the saddle,--a mischance greeted by a hearty burst of laughter from the stranger.

"I fancy you have quite enough to do at this moment!" cried he, still laughing.

Half mad with anger, Repton pressed his spurs to the cob's flanks, while he gave him a vigorous cut of the whip on the shoulder. The animal was little accustomed to such usage, and reared up wildly, and would inevitably have fallen back with his rider, had not the stranger, springing forward, seized the bridle, and pulled him down by main force.

Whether indifferent to his own safety, or so blinded by pa.s.sion as not to recognize to what he owed it, the old man struck the other a heavy blow with his whip over the head, cutting through his hat, and covering his face with blood.

The young man pa.s.sing his arm through the bridle, so as to render the other's escape impossible, coolly removed his hat and proceeded to stanch the bleeding with his handkerchief,--not the slightest sign of excitement being displayed by him, nor any evidence of feeling that the event was other than a more accident.

"Let loose my bridle-rein,--let it loose, sir," said Repton, pa.s.sionately,--more pa.s.sionately, perhaps, from observing the measured calmness of the other.

"When I know who you are, I shall," said the young man.

"My name is Valentine Repton; my address, if you want it, is Merrion Square North, Dublin; and can you now tell me where a magistrate's warrant will reach _you?_"

"My present residence is a house you may have seen on the side of the mountain as you came along, called, I think, Barnagheela; my name is Ma.s.singbred."

"You presume to be a gentleman, then?" said Repton.

"I have not heard the matter disputed before," said Jack, with an easy smile, while he leisurely bound the handkerchief round his head.

"And of course, you look for satisfaction for this?"

"I trust that there can be no mistake upon that point, at least,"

replied he.

"And you shall have it, too; though, hang me, if I well know whether you should not receive it at the next a.s.sizes,--but you shall have it. I 'll go into Oughterard this day; I 'll be there by nine o'clock, at the Martin Arms."

"That will do," said Ma.s.singbred, with a coolness almost like indifference; while he resumed his gun, which he had thrown down, and proceeded to load the second barrel.

"You are aware that you are poaching here?" said Repton,--"that this is part of the Martin estate, and strictly preserved?"

"Indeed! and I thought it belonged to Magennis," said Jack, easily; "but a preserve without a gamekeeper, or even a notice, is a blockade without a blockading squadron." And without a word more, or any notice of the other, Ma.s.singbred shouldered his gun and walked away.

It was some time before Repton could summon resolution to leave the spot, such was the conflict of thoughts that went on within him. Shame and sorrow were, indeed, uppermost in his mind, but still not unmingled with anger at the consummate ease and coolness of the other, who by this line of conduct seemed to a.s.sume a tone of superiority the most galling and insulting. In vain did he endeavor to justify his act to himself,--in vain seek to find a plausible pretext for his anger. He could not, by all his ingenuity, do so, and he only grew more pa.s.sionate at his own failure. "Another would hand him over to the next justice of the peace,--would leave him to quarter sessions; but not so Val Repton. No, by Jove, he 'll find a man to his humor there, if he wants fighting," said he, aloud, as he turned his horse about and rode slowly back.

It was already dusk when he joined Miss Martin, who, uneasy at his prolonged absence, had entered the wood in search of him. It required all the practised dissimulation of the old lawyer to conceal the signs of his late adventure; nor, indeed, were his replies to her questions quite free from a certain amount of inconsistency. Mary, however, willingly changed the subject, and led him back to speak of topics more agreeable and congenial to him. Still he was not the same sprightly companion who had ridden beside her in the morning. He conversed with a degree of effort, and, when suffered, would relapse into long intervals of silence.

"Who inhabits that bleak-looking house yonder?" said he, suddenly.

"A certain Mr. Magennis, a neighbor, but not an acquaintance, of ours."

"And how comes it that he lives in the very middle, as it were, of the estate?"

"An old lease, obtained I can't say how many centuries back, and which will expire in a year or two. He has already applied for a renewal of it."

"And of course, unsuccessfully?"

"Up to this moment it is as you say, but I am endeavoring to persuade my uncle not to disturb him; nor would he, if Magennis would only be commonly prudent. You must know that this person is the leading Radical of our town of Oughterard, the man who sets himself most strenuously in opposition to our influence in the borough, and would uproot our power there, were he able."

"So far, then, he is a courageous fellow."

"Sometimes I take that view of his conduct, and at others I am disposed to regard him as one not unwilling to make terms with us."

"How subtle all these dealings can make a young lady!" said Repton, slyly.

"Say, rather, what a strain upon one's acuteness it is to ride out with a great lawyer, one so trained to see spots in the sun that he won't acknowledge its brightness if there be a speck to search for."

"And yet it's a great mistake to suppose that we are always looking on the dark side of human nature," said he, reflectively; "though," added he, after a pause, "it's very often our business to exaggerate baseness, and make the worst of a bad man."

"Even that may be more pardonable than to vilify a good one," said Mary.

"So it is, young lady; you are quite right there." He was thoughtful for a while, and then said: "It is very singular, but nevertheless true, that, in my profession, one loses sight of the individual, as such, and only regards him as a mere element of the case, plaintiff or defendant as he may be. I remember once, in a southern circuit, a hale, fine-looking young fellow entering my room to present me with a hare. He had walked twelve miles to offer it to me. 'Your honor doesn't remember me,' said he, sorrowfully, and evidently grieved at my forgetfulness.

'To be sure I do,' replied I, trying to recall his features; 'you are--let me see--you are--I have it--you are Jemmy Ryan.'

"'No, sir,' rejoined he, quickly, 'I'm the boy that murdered him.'

"Ay, Miss Martin, there's a leaf out of a lawyer's notebook, and yet I could tell you more good traits of men and women, more of patient martyrdom under wrong, more courageous suffering to do right, than if I were--what shall I say?--a chaplain in a n.o.bleman's family."

Repton's memory was well stored with instances in question, and he beguiled the way by relating several, till they reached Cro' Martin.

"And there is another yet," added he, at the close, "more strongly ill.u.s.trating what I have said than all these, but I cannot tell it to _you_."

"Why so?" asked she, eagerly.

"It is a family secret, Miss Martin, and one that in all likelihood you shall never know. Still, I cannot refrain from saying that you have in your own family as n.o.ble a specimen of self-sacrifice and denial as I ever heard of."

They were already at the door as he said this, and a troop of servants had a.s.sembled to receive them. Mary, therefore, had no time for further inquiry, had such an attempt been of any avail.

"There goes the first dinner-bell, Miss Martin," said Repton, gayly.

"I'm resolved to be in the drawing-room before you!" And with this he hopped briskly upstairs, while Mary hastened to her room to dress.

CHAPTER XV. "A RUINED FORTUNE"

No stronger contrast could be presented than that offered by the house which called Mr. Magennis master, to all the splendor and elegance which distinguished Cro' Martin. Built on the side of a bleak, barren mountain, without a trace of cultivation,--not even a tree beside it,--the coa.r.s.e stone walls, high pitched roof, and narrow windows seemed all devised in some spirit of derision towards its graceful neighbor. A low wall, coped with a formidable "frieze" of broken bottles and crockery, enclosed a s.p.a.ce in front once destined for a garden, but left in its original state of shingle, intermixed with the remnants of building materials and scaffold planks. A long shed, ab.u.t.ting on the house, sheltered a cow and a horse; the latter standing with his head above a rickety half-door, and looking ruefully out at the dismal landscape beneath him.

Most of the windows were broken,--and in some no attempt at repair had been made,--indicating that the rooms within were left unused. The hall-door stood ajar, but fastened by a strong iron chain; but the roof, more than all besides, bespoke decay and neglect, the rafters being in many places totally bare, while in others some rude attempts at tiling compensated for the want of the original slates. A strong colony of jackdaws had established themselves in one of the chimneys; but from another, in the centre of the building, a thick volume of dark-blue smoke rolled continually, conveying, indeed, the only sign of habitation about 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 their coa.r.s.e brown plaster, and unprovided with grates or chimney-pieces.