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 TERENCE M^GOWAN 
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 
 
 By a. L. TOTTENHAM. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 " And here and there, as up the crags you spring, 
 Mark many rude-cai-ved crosses near the path ; 
 Yet deem not these devotion's offering — 
 These are memorials frail of murderous wrath, 
 
 ***** 
 And grove and glen with thousand such are rife 
 
 Throughout this purple land, where law secures not life.' 
 
 LONDON: 
 SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE. 
 
 1870. 
 
 [THE RIGHT OP TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.]
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/terencemcgowanir01tott
 
 /^5 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Notwithstanding its suspicious title, I feel myself 
 
 at liberty, I think, to assert that this book is not merely 
 
 a pamphlet in disguise. I am rather presumptuous 
 
 enough to hope that, if any one will read it, and if 
 
 it is as truthful a representation as I believe it to 
 
 : be of existing social relations in Ireland, it may act in 
 
 ^ some measure as a corrective of a good deal of that 
 
 Cliterature for which Mr. Gladstone recently returned 
 
 ^ thanks, and dispel, perhaps, a few of those erroneous 
 
 ^impressions regarding Ireland which have been sown 
 
 '^ broadcast through the kingdom of late by casual and 
 
 special tourists in the country. I am aware, of 
 
 .J course, how little claim to attention one has at the 
 
 ^ present moment as an Irishman, and one not 
 
 . specially prejudiced on the side of lawlessness, and
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 how little accuracy and impartiality can be expected 
 from, mucli less allowed to, a ruffian of the sort. 
 But I can only plead that my materials have all 
 been drawn from an erratic and independent personal 
 experience, of considerably more than one month's 
 duration, and if they fail to carry with them the 
 impress of truth, it wdll be from my own deficiency 
 in the power of reproduction and arrangement, and 
 not from any lack of reality in themselves. Should 
 the murderous element appear exaggerated, the 
 reader may be assured that it is owing to no love 
 of sensational writing on my part. We have no 
 executive government in Ireland ; the whole country 
 is, and has been for the last three years, in a ferment 
 of anarchy, more or less apparent under successive 
 administrations ; and what truth, then, or pertinence 
 would there be in drawing from that period an 
 Arcadian picture of contentment and repose ? 
 
 Ireland, March 5th, 1870.
 
 TERENCE M^ GOWAN, 
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 If one of those gold-laced, velveted, attitudinized old 
 gentlemen who look down so sternly from their dark 
 canvas upon the degenerate Irish dinner-tables of 
 the present day, could come back to life again once 
 more for an autumnal tour through his native 
 country, what a very new country it would seem 
 to his specially resuscitated view ; and what a fund 
 of mild amusement might be derived from trotting 
 him about and watching the bewilderment of the 
 ancestral mind, or possibly from practically joking 
 him with- notes for the astonishment and instruc- 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 tion of liis fellow-sliacles on liis return. The 
 Arthur Young of his day he would find a perfectly 
 obsolete authority; his stately forests entirely dis- 
 appeared, jagged roots only and shattered trunks 
 protruding from the overgrowing bog to show of 
 what account they once had been, steam-reptiles 
 now tortuously snorting through the midst. Rough 
 places would have been made smooth ; desert wastes 
 converted into populous and smiling districts; the 
 savage of the mountains brought under ostensible 
 subjection, and the wilderness all but made to 
 blossom as the rose. 
 
 Take even one of those more sober-coated in- 
 dividuals who have posed themselves with one leg 
 in this present century, and let him loose from his 
 constraining frame upon the scenes of his exploits 
 in the wild reckless days that he remembers, and he 
 would probably find more than enough of novelty to 
 engage his interest until his leave expired. 
 
 His breezy hills would be as fresh and bright 
 and blue, perhaps, as in the old days, when, through 
 storm and sunshine, he climbed them after the 
 game which then exercised a right of possession over
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 3 
 
 all. But tlie valleys, liow clianged ! The snipe-bog, 
 where he had killed his thirty or forty couple on a 
 shaking quagh, now a green cattle-pasture; cultiva- 
 tion creeping up the mountain sides, and pushing 
 back the heather out of sight ; and, as the shadows 
 roll across the distant slopes, white cottage walls 
 coming out into the sun, and tiny curling wreaths 
 of faint blue smoke far up the valley and along the 
 wild loch shores, betokening husbandry and occupa- 
 tion unknown in the barren consulship of Plancus. 
 The peasants, too, whom he sees jogging along the 
 roads on horseback, or in market-carts, no longer 
 the ragged half-starved wretches of his day, but, 
 along with a better-fed and better-clad appearance, 
 having something like a business air now grafted on 
 the brimming humour, and laughing, rollicking, 
 devil-may-care thoughtlessness which characterized 
 the people he remembers. Casting his eye, then, 
 nearer home, he se*es, alas, that the pet woodcock 
 covert is no more ; but the same old trees still group 
 about the house and fling their protecting shade 
 around the old decaying walls, clustering together 
 as if for mutual support against the familiar approach
 
 4 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 of the younger planting wliicli feathers up the moun- 
 tain, and straggles over every barren knoll and 
 hanging rock along the winding of the glen. From 
 these upstarts they hold aristocratically aloof, yet 
 whispering to the river as of old, and lending their 
 cool shadows to the sunny pools as they wind along 
 its course into the plain, where the broken restless 
 life settles down at length into one deep long-gliding 
 calm. 
 
 The memories those dark rocks and shadow- 
 swept ravines stir up ! the tearing otter hunts, the 
 wild baying echoes, the keen zest of remembered 
 sport, the 
 
 But we are gliding too unconsciously from the 
 general into the particular, and fancying ourselves 
 already occupying that green knoll on Knock Eion's 
 side, from which we had proposed that an ancestor 
 of the house of Kochfort should introduce jou to 
 his old demesne of Geraldscourt. 
 
 Suppose him there, then. The first object tliat 
 his eye will light upon is old Phelim Mc Gowau's 
 cottage immediately below, where Phelim, and 
 Phelim's father, and Phelim's grandfather have lived
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. O 
 
 under successive generations of Eoclifort rule, with 
 full eradicatorial rights over the surrounding heather. 
 The area of cultivation had considerahly widened 
 since the revived one's day. The very knoll on 
 which he stood had been converted from a grouse 
 into a sheep pasture, and the hare which his appari- 
 tion frightened from the rocky fern about it, had 
 every reason, I believe, to be satisfied with the 
 change. The little copse of natural birch upon 
 the heather verge had grown to shelter size ; and 
 mountain cattle w^ere lounging about in the \acinity, 
 cropping with some gusto the bits of rich green 
 grass along the . gravelly margin of the stream, 
 which gurgled down a rocky hollow alongside. 
 For all the reclamation, however, which had been 
 going on, the heather was still pretty close, bloom- 
 ing away above out of sight beyond a sky-line 
 broken into gaps by water-courses, or swelling into 
 distant undulations far away, until some rugged 
 mountain-mass of rock opposed a sudden front and 
 loomed against the further view. Below, were 
 potato gardens, mixed with meadow, corn, and 
 rushy pasture ; and the stream went bustling on
 
 6 TEKENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 tlirougli cultivation of all kinds and degrees of de- 
 merit until lost in the leafy depths of the Geralds- 
 court woods, through which their former owner 
 could fancy he saw it as heretofore tumbling in tiny 
 mimic grandeur, until its prattling life was merged 
 in the rushing river which foamed along the bottom 
 of the glen. Upon the further side, where the 
 mountains broke into descending uplands confused 
 with wood and rock and green, the old house stood 
 boldly out above the river, embosomed in far-stretch- 
 ing trees, and with its windows glittering in the level 
 sunlight. 
 
 It was one of those clear yellow autumn after- 
 noons, when every feature comes out with such a 
 mellow soft distinctness, that the white specks of 
 sheep upon the distant hills appear within an easy 
 walk, and every hedge, and ditch, and rock, and 
 boundary mark are brought out in detail as if by 
 some gigantic magnifying glass. Even the statues 
 and broken vases upon the terrace were clearly 
 visible ; and so, too, was the flutter of a woman's 
 dress moving about among the flowers ; so, also, 
 the seams upon the mountain face beyond, the cattle
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 7 
 
 browsing to the heather Hue, the white streak of 
 the dust-like waterfall, the hanging woods along the 
 neighbouring glen, the limestone -intermingled scrub, 
 and, farther down, the figure of a fisherman upon 
 a jutting rock in yon far pool, which flashed into the 
 plain in many a broken curve, until it spread into 
 a straggling lake beneath the dead grey walls and 
 buildings of the far-off town. The old round-tower 
 with its broken top shot up distinctly from the 
 little island in the centre ; and the tiny sail of a 
 pleasure-boat about the shore glinted as brightly in 
 the distance as the whitewashed walls which dotted 
 all the nearer plain, nestling up the valleys and 
 the hills in dips and nooks and groups of trees, or 
 out upon the middle of the rock-grown moor. It 
 was a mixture of harmonious contrasts as picturesque 
 and varied as the national character itself; the 
 laughing waters sparkling on through all with ever- 
 flowing gaiety — turbulent, impetuous, and dark at 
 times — and then emerging on a sudden into some 
 lovely spot full of exquisite romance and tenderness 
 and poetry. 
 
 For the best part of two centuries now these
 
 8 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 glens had been in the possession of the Kochforts, 
 and for some twenty years or so their present pro- 
 prietor had been enjoying much more than that 
 indefinite popularity which Irishmen accord to any 
 descendant of the real old stock, even though person- 
 ally he may have very little claim upon their afiection. 
 The Kochforts — these Kochforts — were descended, 
 we are told, from Sir Gerald Kochfort, a distinguished 
 soldier in Elizabeth's reign. An assignment of 
 escheated lands induced one of his descendants to 
 settle in Ireland and purchase more land, and upon 
 this, at the termination of the rebellion at the close of 
 the seventeenth century, the then representative of 
 the family came to reside, and built the original 
 house of Geraldscourt. For beauty and for sport the 
 neighbourhood was everything that could be desired, 
 but there was just a little too much excitement 
 accompanying it. Cromwell's Celtic remnant had 
 their strongholds in the mountains immediately 
 around, and made him continually aware of their 
 existence in many bold and ingenious ways. His 
 cattle were houghed and carried off, his retainers 
 were murdered, he was besieged himself in his own
 
 THE IKISH TENANT. 9 
 
 castle, and it was a very odd thing if lie ever had a 
 crop to his name. They were extremely pleasant 
 neighbours, these exasperated Celts,* who knew that 
 no one would be foolhardy enough to follow them 
 into their own domains, and therefore played off 
 their little amenities upon country gentlemen — whom 
 they considered intruders, with much the same 
 impunity as they are humanely permitted to enjoy at 
 the present day. Gradually, however, the kind 
 treatment of those immediately around the invader's 
 residence began to make itself felt in widening 
 ripples ; and as the jeai'S passed on, and the indiffer- 
 ence of long habit began to render the peasantry 
 more acquiescent in the appropriation of their pro- 
 perty, a more conciliatory demeanour came to be 
 adopted, an attachment sprang up between the lord 
 of the soil and his unwilling dependants, and the 
 oppressor by degrees became looked upon as a 
 benefactor. Successive generations fostered the 
 growing feeling, and mutual goodwill and kindness 
 slowly broadened dow^n from precedent to precedent, 
 
 * Even now, " The curse of Cromwell on you ! " is a common 
 expression among the mountain peasantry.
 
 10 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 until it reached the enthusiastic devotion which the 
 tenantry of the Geraldscourt estate felt now for Alan 
 Rochfort, their present landlord. 
 
 Fervent and demonstrative blessings followed 
 him wherever he went. '' There never was a friend to 
 the poor like him ; the Lord preserve him and keep 
 him, and send him his health. Not a widow on the 
 estate, or a man at all would he ever turn out upon 
 the road ; that God Almighty may reward him, for 
 he's a good, kind gentleman this minute, and so were 
 them before him. If it hadn't been for the way he 
 stood to them in the famine times, where ^vould the}' 
 be now?" &c., &c., with bouquets of blessings to 
 follow ; and although the good people might not realize 
 the full drift of their fluency, they had a latent belief 
 in the efficacy of their intercession, and dealt it out 
 in a profusion corresponding to their gratitude. 
 
 His popularity, however, was not entirely due 
 to mere benevolence and the possession of other 
 generous qualities, such as make their way to the 
 Irish heart. He might have had all these, and jei 
 lacked the one crowning virtue of a landlord in the 
 eyes of an Irish tenantry — negligence in the manage-
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 11 
 
 ment of liis property. He was as indolent about 
 business, as thoughtless and as careless as an}- of 
 themselves. They were allowed to do just what they 
 pleased with their land : exhaust, subdivide, sublet, 
 anything; and when they naturally fell into long 
 arrears of rent, and came with piteous tales of 
 distress and loss, and so forth, he would forgive them 
 the whole, and let them have a fair start to go and 
 do the same again. Then, of all times, he was, of 
 course, the real gentleman entirely, long life to his 
 honour ! and the extravagant attachment which such 
 careless generosity won for him, may possibly have 
 compensated, more or less, for the depressing con- 
 templation of yearly increasing incumbrances, with 
 the legacy of mortgages which the famine 3'ear had 
 bequeathed to the property. These continual addi- 
 tions were becoming a burden almost too great for it to 
 bear, particularly with rents so irregularly paid ; and 
 whenever Alan Eoclifort did go into business, he 
 came out of it in a melancholy fit, the more distress- 
 ing because such moods were with him so very rare. 
 
 But, after all, he would persuade himself to think, 
 what did it matter ? His daughter would have her
 
 12 TERE^XE MCGOWAN, 
 
 mother's fortune — he was the last of his house — his 
 boy, his handsome bo}', who was to have inherited 
 all the spirit and vigour of his name, for whom it 
 would have been an object to keep the old place from 
 the hammer, he was gone, and his interest in life 
 seemed to have been lost since that day, when they 
 laid him out of sight, and he w^as left standing by 
 the vault, alone. The sunlight might play upon the 
 deep, and his manner might seem invariably gay, but 
 there were times when the longing, yearning love, 
 which years had not dimmed, came rushing back in 
 full tide upon his heart, and as he thought of the 
 blue, laughing eyes, which used to look up at him so 
 brightly and so freshly, and the curly hair through 
 which he longed to run his hand once more, and 
 pictured what a pride he should have been at that 
 moment feeling in him had he lived ; at such 
 moments no human heart could have felt a deeper 
 melancholy than his. Few of his numerous friends 
 knew or suspected what a depth of love and tenderness 
 his outside gaiety concealed. To them he was the gay 
 and laughing boon companion, the best company in 
 Ireland, whose stories were repeated with additional
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 13 
 
 zest as coming from liim, and whose spirits were 
 the life of every company in which they found them- 
 selves. Indeed, to those who only saw the free, 
 breezy joyousness which he had inhaled from his 
 own mountain scenery, his never-failing gaiety and 
 elasticity of spirit were an increasing marvel ; for it 
 was no secret at the Kildare Street Club that Alan 
 Kochfort was an embarrassed man, that his property 
 would not bear another shilling of mortgage, and 
 that before long he must inevitably sell. 
 
 Pity, they said ; for Geraldscourt was a fine old 
 place. But it was always the way with old places 
 in Ireland, and with the good fellows too : the one 
 went to the attorneys, and the other to the dogs. 
 
 " And a better fellow than poor Alan never 
 walked God's earth," another would chime in. 
 
 '' Ah ! he has never been the same altogether since 
 he lost that boy of his. He might have pulled up a 
 bit for him perhaps ; what a fine little chap he was 
 to be sure." 
 
 " His father all over, as well as I remember. 
 But, bless you, Alan could never save for anybody ; 
 he couldn't do it. He was the same at Eton, a
 
 14 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 generous extravagant young beggar, always ready 
 to give away liis money or anything to anybody 
 who asked for it.'' 
 
 So they talked and speculated, and discussed his 
 affairs with a pitying sympathy which would have 
 been far more galling to his Irish pride, if he could 
 have heard it, than even the prospect of seeing the 
 old woods cut down, and the place in the hands, 
 perhaps, of one of those mushroom capitalists whose 
 money and whose manners his soul abhorred.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The sun meanwhile has lowered to the mountain 
 tops ; bright orange clouds are floating overhead, 
 reflected in the light-blue calm of the river pools ; 
 the rocky fringe along the woods is glowing with a 
 deeper j^ellow as the glory gathers in the western 
 sky, shedding a rosy blush upon the further hills ; 
 the grey church spire gleams out among the light- 
 dappled foliage of the surrounding trees, and distant 
 laughing voices are mingling clearly in the air with 
 the nearer music of the chapel bell. All these, how- 
 ever, and other features of picturesque and pastoral 
 interest peculiar to the hour, are of secondary 
 importance, when you have caught sight of the 
 wrinkled, wizened figure of Mrs. McGowan, nee 
 Sally Mc Dermot, emerging from her door with a 
 milk-can on either arm.
 
 16 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 Her neck was bare in front ; her weather-beaten 
 arms were bare ; her feet were bare ; her petticoat 
 was short, and so were her legs ; a white frilled cap 
 was on her head, a cur dog at her heels, and in 
 her hand a basket of green food to reconcile her 
 cows to parting with their milk. 
 
 Nimbly topping the loose stone wall which 
 separated the cabbage-plot from the land, she pro- 
 ceeded towards the heather, unconcernedly enough 
 for some distance, calling the cattle home with that 
 wild peculiar cry which, echoing along the mountain 
 side through the clear evening air, conveys such 
 a charmingly suggestive notion of pastoral simplicity 
 and repose. 
 
 . A hare suddenly starts from a rushy hollow in 
 front, and crossing her path directly, awakens the 
 slumbering ardour of the chase in her companion, 
 who is very soon yelping away in pursuit, regard- 
 less of precipitous turf-banks, yawning bog-holes, 
 headlong somersaults, and the many other traps and 
 pitfalls which await all those who forsake the paths 
 of virtue for the unlawful indulgence of unbecoming 
 desires. His mistress was too much occupied for
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 17 
 
 the moment to make any futile remonstrance. Her 
 path being crossed in that way could portend no 
 good, and she crossed herself, therefore, in pious fear 
 before proceeding further ; advancing then in the 
 direction of the green knoll before mentioned with a 
 less confident step and a tremble in her voice. 
 
 A moment after she comes to a sudden stop, 
 to all appearance "in a great taking entirely;" for 
 a second she stands transfixed with terror, and 
 then with a shriek throws down her cans, basket, 
 greens, everything, and flies away down the slope 
 as if a whole army of fiends were in pursuit ; never 
 stopping until she. had half-frightened her old man 
 into a fit by throwing herself down in the furthest 
 corner of the house, and declaring, on the testimony 
 of all the coort of heaven, that she had seen the 
 devil himself — no less ! 
 
 "Blessed Mother of God, protect us! What's 
 that ye're sayin' ? " cried her husband in conster- 
 nation, the potato which he was cleaning dropping 
 from his hand, and the knife remaining with sus- 
 pended action in the other. " Saints about us ! 
 what is it you mane at all?" 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 TERENCE IMC GOWAX, 
 
 " Just that that I'm tellin' ye, man," she 
 answered, wringing her hands up and down in an 
 agony of superstitious terror; "an' this day Friday, 
 too! Oh, what'll I do at all! Holy Mary, be 
 about us this night, for we're lost without yiz ! 
 Why did I quit wearin' the charm at all, at all ? 
 I got rightly sarved with punishment now, anyway. 
 Oh, Phaylim, what'll become of us, an' this day 
 Friday ? " 
 
 With that she set up a howl of miserable fear, 
 which in nowise mitigated the lively apprehensive sen- 
 sations which she had communicated to that worthy 
 man, her husband ; but which seemed, if duration 
 was to be regarded as any test, to be the particular 
 mode of expression which for the time afforded to 
 her feelings the greatest measure of relief. 
 
 *' God betwixt us and harm, Sally darlin', how 
 did it happen at all ? " asked Phelim at length, when 
 there seemed a prospect of a temporary lull. 
 
 Her nerves, however, were not by any means 
 sufficiently recovered yet to enable her to communi- 
 cate with due effect a more circumstantial account. 
 
 " It's a wondher I'm not a corpse this minute,"
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 19 
 
 slie said. *' Blessed saints! did ever I get sucli 
 a shcarrin' in the wliole coorse o' my life before ? 
 It's all through other I am with it, and not a colour 
 I know whether it's not overlooked, maybe, I am, 
 and the sinses takin' leave of me al-together. Are 
 the boys below ? Maybe some harm 'ud be come 
 to them:' 
 
 She rose trembling from her corner and looked 
 out upon the meadow below, where two of her sons 
 were making hny, and somewiiat reassured by finding 
 that they were still employed as before, she returned 
 with her hands on her heart, and gasped out at length, 
 in explanation, that the way of it was just this : — 
 
 " I'd think that I wouldn't be more than, maj'be, 
 a couple of perches beyant the stone ditch, callin' to 
 the crathurs of cows on the mountain, and the wee 
 dog at my side, when, what would I see but an ould 
 hare, that'll be in it different times back and for'ard, 
 take a shtart across the very path before me, and 
 crass out the ditch to the moor. ' There's no good,' 
 says I to myself, 'to come out o' that,' so I just 
 crossed myself wanst, and said a prayer or two foi 
 luck, and was goin' on as it might be straight for the
 
 20 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 bit of a rise forenent the bircli trees there above, 
 when — och ! Phaylim, but it was the terrible sight 
 all out, — I seen him sittin' on the very top o' the 
 stone foregain the hip o' the hill " 
 
 '' Do ye tell me that ? " exclaimed Phelim, agape. 
 
 *' It's the very truth I'm tellin' ye," she con- 
 tinued, " and it's myself that knows that same, and 
 rightly. On the very stone he was, lookin' at me ; 
 and, Phaylim, the wicked look that he giv' me, just 
 the wink of his eye, and then away back with him 
 out o' sight altogether ; and I just dropped the cans 
 out o' my hand and fled away down till I'd get under 
 shelter of the house, and have the cross about me 
 when he'd come afther." 
 
 "Well, well! wasn't that a wonderful thing 
 now ! " 
 
 " That's just the history of it for ye, and there's 
 no two ways of it. Musha ! may the Lord be 
 merciful to us after that!" 
 
 " And what sort of appearance had he, Sally 
 avourneen ? " 
 
 " Is it what sort of appearance had he ? and what 
 sort of appearance icould he have, man alive ? 'Deed,
 
 THE IPJSH TENANT. 21 
 
 an' barrin' the flash he went off in, I'd not be sayin' 
 tvJiat kind of shape he had on him, for that I may 
 never sin, but it was the fearfullest sight ever I saw! " 
 
 "Well, it was then, surely," rejoined Phelim, 
 whose imagination required no further particularity 
 of detail to enable him to form a full and vivid 
 conception of every element of terror which the 
 apparition must have possessed. 
 
 ''You'll be tellin' Father Hugh of this, Sally?" 
 he resumed suggestively, after an interval of reflective 
 silence. 
 
 " Never fear but I will," returned his spouse 
 emphatically; "and get the holy wather from him 
 this mortial evening. Och ! Phayhm, it was a big 
 eshcape now, praise be to God that didn't allow him 
 for to turn me into a stone, maybe, where I stood. 
 What'll I do for the cans ? Not a foot I'll stir after 
 them this night. Oh ! blessed Virgin, look upon 
 the poor crathurs and preserve us from harm ! " 
 
 The solution of the difficulty which this deter- 
 mination on the part of his wife naturally pointed 
 to in Phelim's mind, was that he should go forth in 
 quest of them himself. But the same disinclination
 
 22 TERENCE :MCG0WAX, 
 
 to stir outside the house under present circumstances 
 found expression in the form of a question as to how 
 the cows would be milked. 
 
 Oh ! not a hate she knew ; they'd be apt to keep 
 their milk for that night, for all the milking she was 
 fit for ; and as Phelim had no counter-proposition to 
 make, and carefully avoided hazarding any remark 
 which might be construed into a desire to make a 
 voluntary offer of his services, it appeared as though 
 the faithful animals would be allowed for one night 
 to make what use they pleased of their accumulated 
 property. 
 
 After a gesticulatory-ejaculatory lull of some 
 moments, Phelim put down the potato-knife, and 
 moved towards the door, saying that he would give 
 Terence a call. 
 
 "Don't be doin' that at all," exclaimed his wife, 
 in whom the suggestion appeared to have produced a 
 sudden revival of energy. " It's only laughin' he'll 
 be, God forgive him! Don't ye mind the time I was 
 nearly kilt, comin' home from Ballyduff fair, with the 
 fright I got from the blackguard at the cross-roads 
 there below, and not a word of it ever he'd believe,
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 23 
 
 but swore by the Book that it was the sign-post I 
 seen ? Don't be callin' him at all, Phaylim. I 
 wouldn't say but vdiat if yourself was to go with me 
 I might vinture it again." 
 
 Phelim had no particular fancy for the expedition 
 even in the responsible and presumptively courageous 
 capacity of escort ; but the old woman appearing to 
 have made up her mind to brave the ascent in pre- 
 ference to incurring Terence's ridicule, after one or 
 two slight attempts at evasion he was obliged to 
 acquiesce. 
 
 ''It'd be as good for yon go first, Phaylim, 
 darlin'," said his loving wife, as, clinging to one 
 another closely, they thrust their heads cautiously 
 from the door and reconnoitred the locality. 
 
 This imputation of courage and superior resisting 
 powers was not at all so gratifying to her lord, as it 
 ought to have been. He would have been perfectly 
 content to forswear his manhood for the occasion, 
 and give the precedence to his better half, who, at 
 ordinary times, was only too ready to assert her 
 claims. But she pushed him on step by step, 
 keeping him well in front, and throwing an a3gis of
 
 24 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 muttered prayers and invocations round him ; and 
 so they got as far as the field where the hare had 
 started from. Phelim was then twitched hy the 
 tail, and his reluctant steps arrested that the very 
 spot might he pointed out to him where the first evil 
 omen had occurred. 
 
 '' Husht, man, husht ! " whispered Sally, gi*asp- 
 ing his arm, with a face so pale and terrified that 
 her hushand at once supposed that she had seen 
 him again, and his ordinarily shaky knees hegan to 
 tremble violently under him. 
 
 "Husht!" she continued, in the same terrified 
 whisper; "the saints protect us! that's the very 
 spot now " 
 
 " Where you seen him ? " faltered Phelim. 
 
 "Ay, the hare; and hy the same token there's 
 the dog comin' back to us again." 
 
 This was a relief; they were not yet in the actual 
 presence, and the light indifferent manner in which 
 the dog was approaching was in itself reassuring. 
 The cans and basket were lying in confusion in their 
 sight, just where they had been dropped, and by slow 
 degrees and sudden jerky advances they were reached
 
 THE IRISH TENAIS^T. 25 
 
 at last, and found to have suffered no further damage 
 than could be accounted for by natural causes, and 
 the stone with which one of them had come in 
 contact in its sudden fall. 
 
 '' It's a wondher he left them afther him," observed 
 the old woman, as she proceeded wdth growing courage 
 to narrate circumstantially once more, and with many 
 imaginative additions, the particulars of her late inter- 
 view with the Evil One. The identical stone was 
 pointed out, and upon examination it was found to 
 have a black mark upon the top of it. 
 
 "Ah! now!'' she exclaimed, in making the 
 discovery ; " did ever a person see the like before ? 
 By the powers, if he hasn't left the mark of him 
 on the very stone, and the scratch of his hoof in 
 the ground ! Well, w^ell ! but it's an awful thing to 
 get a sight of the crathur himself." 
 
 So, indeed, all her friends thought too, for it soon 
 got about in the neighbourhood that Sally Mc Dermot, 
 old Phelim Mc Gowan's wife (married ladies always 
 retain their maiden name) had had a glimpshe of 
 the black man himself, and had like to be gone 
 crazed, as well she might indeed; and accordingly
 
 26 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 for some days she was the most popular character 
 in the neighbourhood, and such large demands did 
 the credulity of the old crones make upon her 
 imagination, that fancy (L-ishwoman though she 
 was) threatened at last to refuse any further supply. 
 
 For our own part, we don't pretend to account 
 for the supernatural appearance — there are some 
 things which no fellow can understand — and we 
 scorn to cast contempt upon the credibility of the 
 witness, because tlie fact attested is beyond the 
 range of our comprehension. No doubt any sagacious 
 persons who may favour this narrative with their 
 contemptuous glance will attribute the whole affair 
 merely to some temporary hallucination of an 
 excitable, ignorant, and superstitious mind. Very 
 w^ell, be it so. We have no wish to quarrel with 
 the judgment of such persons. But one point we 
 do think it only fair to notice, namely, that our 
 hypothetic ancestor should not be entirely left 
 out of the consideration of the case ; and when 
 one version of Mrs. Mc Gowan's story subsequently 
 averred that there seemed to be a kind of recognition 
 in the wink which was vouchsafed to her, we think
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 27 
 
 that this point is a very material one indeed. ^Ye 
 say no more. We only know that the woman's 
 hand shook so nnmistakeably as she milked that 
 evening, that the cow more than once looked round 
 in angry expostulation (as a lady might to the maid 
 who was jerking her back hair) and positively refused 
 to give her usual quantity of milk. That at least 
 was the explanation which Mrs. Mc Go wan gave for 
 her half-filled cans when she returned to the house, 
 and we have no right whatever to say that abstrac- 
 tion of thought and a desire to cut short as soon 
 as possible her stay in the neighbourhood of that 
 knoll had anything to do with the matter. 
 
 It may now be expected, perhaps, that in deference 
 to recognized precedent, we should give some account 
 of the cottage itself, having described the vicinity so 
 elaborately, and being about to make it the centre of 
 such an interesting story. We admit the force and 
 reasonableness of such expectation, and yet shrink 
 unfeignedly from gratifying it. For to tell the simple 
 truth, the gem was by no means equal to the setting ; 
 and no one will doubt that it is an artistic error to 
 spoil a pretty picture by introducing an ugly or
 
 28 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 unnatural object in the foreground. The fact is, 
 the chateau Mc Gowan outraged all the univer- 
 sally adopted English canons on the subject of the 
 Irish jiicturesque. It had a chimney, its manure- 
 heap was not immediately in front of the door, and 
 the pig was not sitting up on a pair of dirty hind- 
 legs in the kitchen, staring contemplatiyely into the 
 potato-pot upon the fire. After such a confes- 
 sion, how can one hope to number amongst one's 
 readers any real lover of truth and nature such as 
 Englishmen, from long acquaintance and constant 
 travel in the country, know it to be in Ireland. It 
 is a fact, nevertheless : the pig was diverting himself 
 in the adjoining field, the manure-heap oozing from 
 the window of a neighbouring byre, and the smoke 
 issuing from an unnatural vent in the roof, built of 
 stone, and made in the very form and fashion 
 of the most commonplace of ordinary chimneys. 
 One or two redeeming points, however, may be 
 noticed : there were fowls and chickens picking about 
 the front of the house, and one — hear it for your 
 satisfaction, Englishman! — had so far over- 
 stepped the bounds of commonplace propriety as to
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 29 
 
 pursue its researches witliin the threshold of the 
 open door. Another point also may he mentioned, 
 hecause it will savour of an impartial desire for truth. 
 Mrs. Mc Go wan was neither a clean nor a tidy 
 woman. Her dress was torn, and sad with ac- 
 cumulated years and dirt ; her hair was dishevelled 
 heneath her cap, and straggled out behind in wisps 
 of scanty vigour ; the wedding-ring upon her finger 
 was the cleanest thing about her, and that was 
 involuntarily so, owing its brightness to enforced 
 immersion in frequent cabbage-water. Her dresser 
 was untidy, her porringers were not bright, her 
 hearth was not swept up, her wooden utensils were 
 not scrubbed white, her floor was covered with scraps 
 of potato-skins and other leavings, calculated to lead 
 any fowl into temptation, no matter how high its 
 principles naturally might be. Her hanks of home- 
 spun flax w^ere not neatly put together, and hung in 
 any shape over a churn that was neither clean nor 
 in good repair, and nodded like a leaning tower 
 over a flat basket of yellows-black potatoes, a broken 
 spinning-wheel, and a heap of turf. That churn, in 
 fact, would have been no longer a churn at all if it
 
 30 TERENCE MC GOWAX, 
 
 had not been for tlie repairs Avliicli it continually 
 received from the hands of Terence, her son, who 
 had an orderly aversion to his mother's careless ways, 
 and but for whom the floor would long ago have been 
 in holes and mud puddles, with the broken flags. 
 
 Old Plielim was as much a Gallio as his wife in 
 respect of these things : as long as he could sit on 
 the stool before the fire and scratch his head and 
 smoke his pipe, he was content. The management 
 of the land he was only too happy to leave to 
 Terence, as long as the money came into his pocket ; 
 for though the neighbours set him down as a donny 
 old man, who did just what his woman told him, and 
 didn't trouble his head about anything at all, he had 
 quite enough energy left to look after the interests of 
 the old stocking under the roof as sharply as ever, 
 and his family had good reason to know it too. 
 Terence, however, was the moving spirit of the place, 
 and the old man in his blue tail coat, knee-breeches, 
 grey stockings, and crumpled hat, interfered but 
 very little in the farming arrangements, and seldom 
 objected to anything which the son proposed, more 
 particularly as he saw that such propositions were
 
 THE IRISH TEXAXT. 31 
 
 generally attended with profitable results. It was 
 Terence who whitewashed the outside of the house, 
 who trimmed the stunted hollies to spread the home- 
 spun linen upon, who flagged the street, as they 
 called it, before the door, who put a coat of thatch 
 on when required, and who could turn his hand 
 indeed to any odd job which was to be done about 
 the place. 
 
 The rest of the family were scattered in different 
 directions — one enlisted in the police, one gone to 
 America, another in England ; the daughters had 
 married into neighbouring townlands, and with the 
 exception of one other son, who had a cabin for him- 
 self, and a wife, on a small portion of his father's 
 farm, Terence was the only one left to till the land, 
 and succeed in the tenancy at his father's death. As 
 we shall see a good deal of this Terence, and some- 
 thing of his brother Larry, during the course of 
 this story, we may as well just step down into the 
 meadow, and make a closer inspection of them.
 
 32 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The last cock of hay has been finished, Larry has 
 sKd down from the peak of it, Terence has stuck his 
 fork into the ground, and the two are now occupied 
 in the spinning of a hay-rope to put the final touch 
 to the day's work. Larry, the younger, and the 
 more indolent of the two, having taken up a sitting 
 position on the heap of hay which had been reserved, 
 and doling out continuous handfuls to the rope 
 which his brother is twisting into being with a hook 
 at the further end. 
 
 A fine upright fellow he was, that brother, with 
 a strong, handsome face, thick hair, and a brow 
 capacious enough for anything, if opportunity had 
 not been wanting, and his energies compelled to 
 be satisfied with the thorough performance of his
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 33 
 
 work at home. Even in the making of a hay-rope 
 you could see what a different nature his was from 
 the other's who was sitting down. The one quick, 
 active, busy, working with a will at whatever he put 
 his hand to, finding an outlet for his energy in 
 whatever for the time being he might be doing ; 
 the other lolling, listless, and indifferent, protest- 
 ing in his whole bearing against the necessity of 
 working at all ; but, withal, seeming in the frequent 
 intervals of rest and pipe-lighting to find that life 
 was not absolutely burdensome, although potatoes 
 did require to be set and hay to be made at stated 
 periods of the year. Terence, as he stood with his 
 hat thrown back from his square, determined 
 features, with his athletic height, his broad shoul- 
 ders and broad chest showing through the open 
 shirt, and the general air of steady work which he 
 bore about him, might have been set down as of 
 Teuton descent, if the latent fire in his manner 
 had not belied the accusation of anything so phleg- 
 matic. About Larry, on the other hand, there was 
 no making any mistake. One glance was sufficient 
 to determine his nationality; for where, but in 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 Ireland, would it lie possible to meet with that 
 careless gaiety of expression, dressed up in such 
 rags and patches as represented the external adorn- 
 ment of Mr. Larry Mc Gowan's person ? and where 
 else, indeed, would you find such marv'ellous in- 
 genuity of patchwork as his nether garments showed ? 
 Your ordinary pauper or beggar has no sentiment 
 of attachment to his rags, and allows them to drop 
 off by degrees, until he is obliged to beg, borrow, or 
 steal to replace them. The Irishman, on the con- 
 trary, understands the philosophy of clothes, and 
 furnishes, in his nether garments, a curious and 
 interesting illustration of the constant change which 
 is always going on around us in the natural world. 
 Every seven years, we are told, owing to the con- 
 tinual discharge of old particles from our bodies, 
 and the constant accretion of new ones, we get an 
 entirely new body. Similarly-, at certain intervals, 
 determined by no fixed law, the Irishman will be 
 found to change his clothes, owing to the continual 
 absorption into their system of black, brown, blue, 
 or grey patches, and the gradual discharge of the 
 original foundation. So it was with Larry, — though
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 35 
 
 how many phases lie had ah-eady passed through, 
 or whether the black cloth, the yellow corduroy, the 
 grey stuff, or the brown nondescript, which each 
 had their due share of representation, was the ele- 
 mental matter from which his garments had 
 originally proceeded, is a Lucretian difficulty which 
 may best be commended to the notice of Mr. Car- 
 lyle, or any other analytical philosopher who may 
 find the subject an interesting one for investigation. 
 For my own part, I should prefer to rest content 
 with a general survey. I find Larry, considered from 
 a philosophic point of view, a very interesting object ; 
 and one is only liable to have one's illusions spoilt 
 by looking too deep into the nature of things. Of 
 course, the immediate cause of his preference for 
 imitating nature, and undergoing gradual, rather than 
 violent and sudden changes in his outward appear- 
 ance, was poverty. After the fashion of his class, 
 he had married some years before with nothing to 
 support his wife, and had been allowed by his father 
 to enter into the occupation of a cow-byre, which he 
 placed at his disposal, with two or three acres of 
 adjoining land, for the trifling consideration of one
 
 36 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 out of the two cows whicli formed the girl's fortune, 
 half the crops of the land, and an I. 0. U. for 
 twenty pounds for the goodwill. With such a 
 liberal start in life he ought, of course, to have 
 thriyen. But he didn't thrive ; and he didn't even 
 make the best of what opportunities his considerate 
 parent had kindly put in his way at such a sacrifice 
 to himself. His spirits were too high for the steady 
 cultivation of his plot of ground ; and as he was 
 generally considered a regular broth of a boy at 
 dancing, it was only natural that this and other 
 diversions should have greater attractions for his 
 light mind than the cares of improving agriculture. 
 Fairs, markets, and whiskey-shops, with the con- 
 genial society which he found therein, were to him 
 only what balls, races, operas, hansom-cabs, and 
 such like dissipations are to his ne'er-do-weel betters. 
 Perhaps he considered the terms of his tenure rather 
 disheartening, and despaired of ever rising out of 
 poverty on a miserable bit of land held upon the 
 grinding conditions upon which his was held ; per- 
 haps he thought that raising crops for another man 
 was not as interesting as raising them entirely for
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 37 
 
 himself; and perhaps his byre-home, with its muddy 
 floor, was not as comfortable after the first few 
 honeymoon weeks as the public-house, where his 
 company was always welcome. Be that as it may, 
 the remaining cow had to be sold before long, and 
 Larry's farming was reduced to the annual setting, 
 digging, and eating of potatoes. Children began to 
 spring up in rapid succession, and he was glad 
 enough to get work down at the Big House to " keep 
 the bit in their mouths." His troubles, however, 
 sat very lightly upon him, and he was as ready as 
 ever to stand treat to any friend he met in the fair, 
 though his wife and children had scarcely " a tack to 
 put on their backs." Indeed, if it had not been for 
 Terence's help, and the way he stood by them in 
 compassion for the treatment, he said, they got from 
 his father, they might have been a good deal worse 
 off than they were. He himself had not been at 
 home at the time the agreement was made, or Larry 
 might have been dissuaded from marrying upon such 
 terms ; but the young man's improvidence and the 
 old man's greed had settled it all while he was 
 away in England, and when he returned neither was
 
 38 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 inclined to listen to remonstrance, the one being in 
 the first delightful flush of a separate and inde- 
 pendent establishment, and the other selling the 
 butter of the cow. Old Phelim, too, was obstinate 
 enough where his interests were concerned, as Mrs. 
 McGowan could testify by the conspicuous absence 
 of tea from her morning and evening meal, and the 
 limited credit which she was permitted at " the 
 shop." Since Terence's return, however, and en- 
 trance into the occupation of a few acres on his 
 own account, all that had been changed, and now 
 for some years she had had her "tay breakfast" with 
 most desirable regularity. 
 
 During his stay in England Terence had had 
 an opportunity of enlarging his mind to some pur- 
 pose, and his experience and travels, coupled with 
 his own natural strength and energy of character, 
 made him a man of some mark in the neighbour- 
 hood ; where the stories and experiences vdih which 
 the peasant interest was entertained being almost 
 entirely of local origin, there was a great opening 
 for any one who had travelled and could tell of new 
 and unimagined forms of life — just as your novelist
 
 THE IRISH TENAKT. 39 
 
 who deals witli the extraordinary finds more readers, 
 cceteris paribus, than the photographic realist : into 
 which, with the memory before us of the many dull 
 hours spent in their society, heaven forbid that we 
 should any of us develop. 
 
 Terence was not altogether averse, perhaps, to 
 letting his superior claims be known. In that stay- 
 at-home, simple society in which he moved, it was 
 not every man who had been to Corinth ; and, there- 
 fore, it was not unnatural, perhaps, that his com- 
 parisons between the way they did things there and 
 in England should fall with unpleasant frequency 
 upon his neighbours' ears. It came, in fact, to be a 
 handle for repartee, when he had offended some idle, 
 good-for-nothing fellow by an expression of im- 
 patient contempt for something he had done, or the 
 way in which it had been done ; and he would be 
 twitted with his English preferences, and recom- 
 mended to go back there if he couldn't be satisfied 
 with his own country : he knew too much, he did. 
 But Terence was too good an Irishman ever to dwell 
 upon disadvantageous comparisons between his own 
 and Saxon-land, though he had too much strong
 
 40 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 common sense not to know what slovenly, disorderly, 
 hap-hazard, careless ways of doing things his own 
 countrymen had ; and the impatient thought would 
 sometimes be goaded into expression in spite of 
 him. Irishmen are devoted to their country, but not 
 always to their countrymen ; as a man may have a 
 great deal of family feeling, and yet quarrel with his 
 wife and beat his children. 
 
 In his harvesting tours Terence had seen good 
 farming, and could appreciate the inferiority of the 
 native methods of husbandry. He had seen good 
 soils, too, and could feel the deficiencies of his own 
 moorland tracts. He had seen with observant eyes 
 the neatness and orderly comfort of English cottages, 
 and therefore the utter disregard of tidiness and ar- 
 rangement which was shown by his mother was the 
 more distasteful to him. Moreover, he had lived 
 with the Earl of Cardigan, though it is just possible 
 that the proper authorities had failed to apprise 
 his lordship of the fact; and accordingly he was 
 able to compare the management of a place like 
 Geraldscourt with an English one of similar calibre. 
 On the whole, the result was not favourable to the
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 41 
 
 Irish one ; the total absence of method jarred upon 
 his Enghsh experience. Some one may suggest that 
 he had better have stayed at home if he was to come 
 back and find fault with everything he had been well 
 contented with before his mind was enlarged. We 
 should be inclined to think, on the contrary, that if 
 a great many more Irishmen were to graft upon their 
 minds a similar discontent and dislike of their old 
 habits and indolent prejudices it would be the best 
 thing possible for the country ; if it be true that the 
 acknowledgment of a fault is half way towards the 
 correction of it. If they are to come back and sit 
 down and whine over their poverty, and cry like 
 spoilt children because they, too, have not got a land 
 flowing with milk and honey, when it is in their 
 power to improve indefinitely in that direction if 
 they would only exert themselves, why, for all the 
 good their travelling will do them, they may as well, 
 and better, stay at home. But Terence Mc Gowan 
 was not a man of this sort, and by conversation and 
 example the practical results of such a man's discon- 
 tent are infinitely improving to his neighbourhood. 
 Terence knew very well the capabilities of his
 
 42 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 soil, and set to work to make the most of tliem ; 
 not attempting high farming, but putting good 
 hard work into the land— and there's nothing pays 
 like that in the long run. Up at sunrise, he had 
 plenty to do in looking after his own and his father's 
 farm ; and even in the short time since he had 
 devoted his energies to the task of improvement, 
 a visible change was apparent : rocks and stones 
 had disappeared ; rushes had to a great extent been 
 beaten back, as they call it ; the moss was giving 
 way to hondficle grass, and reclaiming was going on 
 above. He had been made a watcher on the moun- 
 tain, and had been promised an adjoining farm, in 
 addition to what he already held, when the widow 
 then in occupation chose to take her leave. Industry, 
 energy, and character have no reason to complain of 
 not being duly appreciated in this world ; they make 
 themselves appreciated, and Terence was a case in 
 point : growing prosperity was before him, and the 
 road was a labour of love. For all the various work 
 he found to do, he had not a bit more than he liked ; 
 and now, as he chafes at the stoppages which Larry's 
 careless inattention causes in the making of the rope,
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 43 
 
 lie is thinking of the creel of turf that has to be 
 brought down from the mountain, and the time it 
 will take him to get the place " red up " at home, 
 before he will consider himself duly entitled to his 
 supper ; running over in his mind whether it may 
 not be better, too, to dig '' a lock of praties " 
 over-night, in case the master should be going to 
 shoot in the morning. 
 
 " We have enough in it," he says at last, taking 
 out the hook, and proceeding rapidly to roll up the 
 rope into a ball, and commence another. This done, 
 the ball is thrown over the top, one end fastened into 
 the bottom of the ruck, and the other drawn tight for 
 the same purpose. Larry, however, having left more 
 than one thin, unequal place in its length, it snapped 
 under the strain, and another had to be made. 
 
 "Man dear!" Terence exclaimed, *'what work 
 that is. Hasn't a man labour enough and to spare, 
 without givin' him an extra share with them careless 
 sort o' ways ? " 
 
 " Sure it was yourself rouled it up, avick," replied 
 Larry, with the most nonchalant good-humour. 
 " It's a wondher but you'd see that it was wake."
 
 44 TEKENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 *' All ! don't be talkin','' returned Terence, 
 " but catch a hoult o' this. Divil a much you'd 
 ever do at all, if you were left to yourself. While 
 you'd be j^layin' your mouth, another man would 
 have the w^ork done, and may be twice over, too." 
 
 " I wouldn't put it past yourself, indeed," replied 
 Larry, " for if God Almighty had given you a 
 hunderd pair o' hands, I'm thinkin' you wouldn't 
 have one o' them idle." 
 
 ''And why would I? a man's hands, sure, were 
 not given him to rattle the money in his pocket I 
 consider — an' it's well for him if he has it there at 
 all, if that's the use he's for makin' o' them." 
 
 " There's no contindin' against that : the money 
 '11 not come for the wishin'." 
 
 " It's just yourself, Larry, that 'd be very contint 
 to come by it in that fashion ; but no man done it 
 yet, and I'll go bail the commencement '11 not be 
 with you. Ah — h ! no ; if the poor man's to have 
 a bit t' ate, he must work for it, or else starve, or go 
 to the poor-house. There's no two \\ays of it." 
 
 The dialogue was interrupted here by the appear- 
 ance of a third party upon the scene. The road ran
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 45 
 
 close beside them, and a pedlar in tall liat and 
 frieze coat had stopped by the bank alongside, and 
 had addressed them with a ^' God save yon, gentle- 
 men ; that's a fine evening." 
 
 "It is indeed, sir ; the Lord be praised ! " 
 
 " That's great weather for the counthry." 
 
 " The best : and it was greatly wanted then, for 
 we had our share o' rain up to this." 
 
 " Would ye buy a handkerchief from a poor 
 travellin' man ? " inquired the pedlar, grounding his 
 pack upon the top of the ditch, but not appearing to 
 await the answer with any particular eagerness. 
 
 There was no money in his pocket, Terence said, 
 to spare for such fineries ; and he finished the last 
 fastening as he said so, wiped his forehead with 
 the back of his sleeve, and took up the can to re- 
 fresh, handing it first to the stranger with, " May be 
 5'ou'd take a sup of buttermilk ? " 
 
 *' Then I suppose I needn't be undoin' the 
 pack?" said the pedlar, after accepting the ofi'er 
 and returning the can. 
 
 " You needn't be troublin' j^ourself," said Larry, 
 the chief spokesman being engaged for the moment
 
 46 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 in investigating the refreshing properties of the 
 buttermilk aforesaid. " It's not too heavy on you 
 anyway — it must surely be a kind of a decline it got." 
 
 "Well; it's not to say too heavy. But it's late 
 yiz are with the hay," he continued, changing the 
 subject. "It's all got in this while back in the 
 counthry I'm afther comin' from." 
 
 "What country was that, sir?" asked Terence. 
 " In the inland districts may be ? " 
 
 " Ay, just that." 
 
 "Ah! you might know that this country is 
 different al-together." 
 
 "Is it now?" 
 
 " To be sure it is. ' Strive late '11 never do well ' 
 is a true word enough ; but mostly everything's late 
 in this country. It's a could, poor soil, except where 
 it's warmed with a bit o' lime, or has an odd 
 lump o' clay mixed through it to give it somethin' 
 of a substance ; there's not a bit o' warmth in it — 
 not a bit ; and along with that there isn't growth. 
 It'd fail you entirely to fatten a sheep, or a cow, or 
 a, heifer in these parts. There's nothing for a baste 
 to fatten on in this upland country, where you'll
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 47 
 
 get the snow lyin' in parts up to tlie month of April, 
 aye, and from that on to May. It's good for nothin' 
 but a crop o' praties, or a lock of oats where there's 
 a bit o' mossland." 
 
 "' It wouldn't grow a shafe o' wiiate maybe ? " 
 "How CO aid it, man? with the water lyin' 
 anunder the surface and stoppin' the growth, an' 
 it so cold. There's some persons that tried it, and 
 it failed on them wdth the smut, and one thing 
 an' another, and it done no good with them. Ah ! 
 no — the bit of oats in a fine summer, or a crop o' 
 rye may be, with the lock o' praties and the grain 
 o' hay, is all a person may ever expect to get out 
 o' this country." 
 
 With that Terence threw his jacket over his 
 shoulder and gathered up his rake and fork, as 
 a gentle hint that he had no further time for talking, 
 and seemed to think that Larry might be of the 
 same opinion. But Larry had just got his pipe 
 well alight, and was taking up a position on a con- 
 venient stone for the purpose of entertaining at 
 his ease any further observations which the stranger 
 might feel disposed to make. What better excuse
 
 48 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 could lie have for remitting liis exhausting labours ? 
 And the pedlar seemed in no liurry to move on. 
 
 *' I'm thinkin' that'll be Eochfort's place," he 
 said, looking across the glen at the house. 
 
 " Ay, that's Geraldscourt," said Larry, trj-ing 
 to get rid of some new stoppage by poking his little 
 finger into the bowl of his pipe, and puffing like a 
 steam-engine taking its preliminary canter. 
 
 *' And there's not a better landlord, nor a kinder 
 man in Ireland than that same gentleman," chimed 
 in Terence ; still lingering on the spot from motives 
 of courtesy, or from the natural tendency of Irish- 
 men to improve their minds by exchange of ideas 
 whenever opportunity offers. 
 
 " That's what I hear them saying." 
 
 " They're talkin' that his tenants '11 vote all 
 the one way at the election," continued the pedlar, 
 in an indifferent and tentative manner. 
 
 "To be sure they will — why not ? There's not 
 a man on the estate 'ud go agen him; and by the 
 same token they're expectin' him home to-night, 
 and Lord Shirley, that's the Conservative candidate, 
 with him."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 49 
 
 '' D'ye tell me that ? " 
 
 "I do; and they're saym' he'll be goin' round 
 and speakm' to some o' them himself." 
 
 "And I suppose the t'other man then — what's this 
 they call him — Brady, isn't it ? — needn't be lookin' 
 after a vote at all off this estate," reiterated the pedlar. 
 
 '•'Is it Brady?" asked Terence, with greater 
 contempt than the question appeared to warrant. 
 " I'd like to see him or his son either puttin' his 
 foot near one o' them. What call 'ud ould Johnny 
 Brady, or the like o' him, have to votes off this 
 estate ? — an ould grindin' rackrentin' ould divil of 
 an upstart, with a son that'll get a skinful o' sore 
 bones before the year's out, if he don't mind his 
 ways and let them alone as he's no business to 
 meddle with." 
 
 Some hidden cause appeared to have betrayed 
 Terence into an unusually animated expression of 
 feeling, in which Larry entirely concurred. 
 
 *' That's true for him," he said; ''an' I'd make 
 no apology fcr givin' him a sketch o' the stick 
 myself ; and wid the help o' God I will, if ever I'd 
 get the chance." 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 " He's not too well liked then in these parts, by 
 all appearance ? " 
 
 "Liked, is it? — let alone the man's own 
 contrairy nature, it's not his father's son that 'ud 
 get too many to spake a good word for him in this 
 town. It's well known how he come by his property, 
 and the way he has his tenants harrished till they're 
 fit to go to the poor-house with the rents they have 
 on them. Them attorney chaps is all o' the one 
 sort. They're not rale gintlemen ; and it's not to 
 be expected they'll behave as such." 
 
 *' They're talkin' that he's spendin' a deal o' 
 money on this election, and that he'll be mad if he's 
 beat again. Would he get any one to take money 
 for his vote up in this part ? I suppose not ?" 
 ''Not a one," said Terence, emphatically. 
 ''Let him only try it," added Larry, "and then 
 he'll know." 
 
 " It's better for him and his keep out of it in 
 my opinion," observed Terence conclusively, again 
 preparing for a move. This time, how^ever, his steps 
 were arrested by a sound of wheels, and looking up 
 the road, they saw, against the paling j-ellow of the
 
 THE IRISH TENAKT. 51 
 
 sky, a long car, after the fashion of Mr. Bianconi's, 
 approaching. 
 
 '* Dam, but it's the master himself! " exclaimed 
 Larry. 
 
 " That's just who it is, then," said Terence, 
 wondering what brought him that road ; while the 
 pedlar, with a sudden renewal of activity, shouldered 
 his pack, bade them a hurried good-night, and 
 started off at a quick pace down the road. 
 
 Larry looked after him with a slightly puzzled look, 
 until the pedlar was out of earshot, and then asked 
 Terence whether he wouldn't think that that man 
 had a great look of that Nolan fellow that lived 
 away over in Loughris — *' only for the black hair on 
 him, and the whiskers, I'd be sworn it was himself." 
 
 Terence cast a glance after him, but didn't see 
 w^hy Nolan should take it into his head to go about 
 the country in that fashion, if it was he, and rather 
 pooh-poohed the idea. He didn't know him as well 
 as Larry did ; the man alluded to being one of tho 
 wild lads of the barony he inhabited some distance off, 
 and more in Larry's line of occupation than his own. 
 
 Further conversation was precluded by the ap- 

 
 52 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 proacli of the car, on the near side of which sat his 
 honour, engaged in much laughter with a lighter and 
 fairer man, some few years his junior, who presumably 
 was Lord Shirley. 
 
 " I'm sayin', Barney, yer sowl," he shouted 
 in Irish lingo to the box, on observing Terence in 
 the meadow before them, " pull up those dashing 
 thoroughbreds of yours, till we speak to the dacent 
 man here." 
 
 " Then it'll be tight enough with me, your 
 honour," replied the grinning driver of the broken - 
 knee'd posters, hauling away at their mouths. '^ It's 
 not easy checkin' the rale blood at all. Stand there, 
 ye divils, when a jintleman orders ye. Is it for 
 showin' off before the boys ye are ? woho, mare — 
 and quit that fiery prancin' you larned with the 
 Lard Liftinant." 
 
 " More power, Terence. How are you, Larry ? " 
 cried Eochfort, in answer to their welcome home. 
 " That's a nice bit of hay you've got there." 
 
 " It is, your honour, if a person had a good 
 share of it." 
 
 *' We'll be going to shoot to-morrow, Terence."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 53 
 
 *' Very well, your honour." 
 
 ''Meet us at the Holy Well, and tell all the 
 birds you see on the way to be ready for us at the 
 Rock in the afternoon." 
 
 *' I'll have birds enough for ye, I'll engage," 
 rejoined Terence. " There's a power o' them in 
 it the year ; though it's on the late side to be goin' 
 look for them." 
 
 ''Late! not a bit," said Rochfort. "Bring 
 Larry with you. He's the boy that'll mark a bird 
 with the best of them. Fire away, Barney. Good- 
 night, boys." 
 
 " Good-night to your honour, and safe home." 
 
 The machine was again put in motion, and 
 rattled away out of sight ; while Terence shouldered 
 his haymaking implements in earnest this time, 
 and started off to the house ; where he found the old 
 couple still quivering from their late fright, but re- 
 served upon the subject. Larry having an engage- 
 ment elsewhere, after putting the turf creels upon the 
 ass, said good-night, and parted company with him 
 at the bottom of the causeway.
 
 54 TERENCE MGGOWAN, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 '' That's what tliey call a knowledgable man," said 
 Rochfort, as they drove away. Alan Rochfort, by 
 the way, for all the dignity of his superior years 
 and possessions, I should no more think of calling 
 Mr. Rochfort than I should of addressing you 
 charming person, who are now engaged upon these 
 lines, as Mr. Gentle Reader. With the profoundest 
 respect for you, both as a man and a critic, and 
 fully conscious how irritating undue familiarity from 
 a person one hardly knows always is, still I should 
 feel somehow that I was losing a certain dignity in 
 being so exceedingly respectful ; in fact, that such 
 ceremony was unnecessary. Similarly, with the 
 greatest reverence for assured priority of birth — is 
 it not a young man's part ? the Latin grammar
 
 THE IRISH TENAKT. 55 
 
 used to say it was — and with every proper feeling 
 towards accumulated dignity, ancestral and pro- 
 prietary, I could not, even in print, give Alan 
 Rochfort that formal prefix which the slightest 
 acquaintance did not consider necessary. 
 
 It may, possibly, be true that middle life is an 
 exception to the general application of Aristotle's 
 preference for the mean over the extremes ; that 
 middle-aged men are uninteresting and dull and 
 stagnant. But, if it is, Alan Eochfort was again 
 an exception to the exception : not, however, in 
 support of the rule, for, in middle life, he was still 
 a boy, combining the two periods in a manner that 
 would have sadly put out that old man of Stagira. 
 His youth seemed to have surged in upon his middle 
 life and taken it by storm, instead of merely over- 
 lapping, as an extreme which knew its place would 
 have been content to do ; and the light flashing 
 spirits frolicked about through the dull monotony 
 with all the buoyancy and sparkle which you would 
 expect from them in their own domain. Youngsters 
 invariably treated him as one of themselves, and he 
 was very well pleased that they should do so. After
 
 56 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 all, is it mere length of years we reverence, or tlie 
 accumulated wisdom and experience which they im- 
 plicitly represent ? When the outward man does 
 not bear out the expectation of such inward provo- 
 cation to a reverential attitude, we seem unconsciously, 
 and wrongly perhaps, to assume in practice its non- 
 existence, and treat our elder as we find him. At 
 all events, I should be much more inclined to talk 
 of Alan's companion as Lord Shirley instead of 
 familiar Shirley, although he was ten years his 
 junior, from the air of conscious responsibility which 
 he carried about with him. He was not a prig by 
 any means, but the sort of man who, in a few years' 
 time, would begin to adopt a middle-aged distance 
 and call young men ''Mr." out of a very natural 
 feeling, perhaps, for the proprieties of his position 
 and years ; or for the gratification of a self-respect 
 which required to be sustained by such a mutual 
 interchange of formalities. As he has not yet, 
 however, arrived at that period of his existence, wc 
 may, for the present, continue to allude to him in 
 whatever manner, for the sake of variety, we may 
 deem most expedient.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 57 
 
 In the meantime Rochfort lias observed that 
 Terence Mc Gowan is what you call a knowledgable 
 man. " He can turn his hand to almost anything," 
 he continued; "from building a stack or making a 
 creel to — take care of those dogs over there " (to the 
 servants on the other side of the car), '' they'll be 
 off in another minute — to killing a woodcock down 
 wind. He used to go about with an old keeper here 
 when he was a boy, and if he hadn't taken to looking 
 after his father's farm, I should have had him about 
 the place. He'll be a useful man at the election ; 
 a few score like him would put the priests' fellows 
 to the right-about in very quick time." 
 
 "Is he a \x)ter?" 
 
 "No, but his father is. Terence holds a few 
 acres of his own, and together they come up to the 
 qualification, so the father's registered for both. An 
 infernal old screw it is, too ; didn't pay me a pound 
 of rent for two or three years before Terence came 
 back to the place, and had plenty of money all the 
 time, I believe. And that's a man that'll boast to 
 you that he's a Mc Gowan ! Good-night, Mrs. 
 Clancy ; good-night to j'ou. You shouldn't have
 
 58 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 let them put such a big load on you;" this to an 
 old Y/oman and her daughter whora they passed at 
 the moment, bent double with tumours of hay on 
 their backs. 
 
 " Oh, musha ! but your honour's a hundred wel- 
 comes ! God speed ye, and send je safe ! " returned 
 the old woman, starting aside out of the way ; and 
 the remainder of her remarks were lost in the in- 
 creasing interval, or in the interest which was fur- 
 nished a moment after by the crowing and quarrelling 
 of a pack of grouse upon the stacks of corn not a 
 hundred yards up from the roadside. 
 
 "Your rushes didn't fail this year," said Shirley, 
 laughingly, pointing to successive fields, in which 
 they appeared to be the only crop. 
 
 " Not a bit fear of them, as they say," said 
 Rochfort ; "if they were any good to us we might 
 be asking long enough for a crop, and now they 
 want the whole land to themselves. That's a man 
 that's got a lease for ever from my grandfather for 
 nothing, you may say ; and there's another along- 
 side of him the same way, that fellow paying ten 
 shillings an acre for land that's worth good two
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 59 
 
 pounds now. Depend upon it a grandfather is a 
 mistake." 
 
 *' The big fines were all they cared about," said 
 Shirley, laughing and perhaps turning over in his 
 mind the possible introduction of a bill for the aboli- 
 tion of grandfathers, when sisters-in-law should have 
 become illegal. 
 
 *'Do you give many leases?" he asked. 
 
 "An odd one. They don't often ask for them. 
 And except that it's a good way of hedging a friend's 
 death, putting his life in a lease, I'd sooner be with- 
 out them — the priests have less of their own way, 
 then. Do you see that road leaving off in the 
 middle of the bog ? that's one of the famine relief 
 works, that might hang side by side with the gate 
 in the middle of the field that Englishmen are 
 always seeing in Ireland. I like the way your 
 English fellows pity our simplicity over here, v.'hen 
 there's not one of them, with all their conceit, that 
 could stand up for a minute against Barney there, 
 for instance. Now, wouldn't you think yourself able 
 for any Englishman in talking, Barney ? " 
 
 *' Troth I would, your honour. I never seen the
 
 60 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 English-man yet that took a great deal to bate. Did 
 I ever tell your honour how I was too many for one 
 that came along this very road one time ? " 
 " You did not, Barney ; how was it ? " 
 *' Well, this was just all about it. It was a sort 
 of a commercial traveller kind of a chap he was. and 
 free enough with his tongue all through. So, at last, 
 we came to the turn there above where the old gallows 
 is. ' What's that for, Paddy ? ' says he, for 3-0U 
 see it plazed him to call me Paddy, though my own 
 name, as all the world should know by this time, 
 is Barney. * That's a gallows, sir,' says I. ' And 
 what was it used for ? ' says he. ' Wasn't it for 
 hangin' rogues, sir?' says I. So he thought to 
 be laughin' at me then, and, says he, ' It's a good 
 thing, Paddy, that they don't hang rogues now.' 
 * Why so, sir ? ' says I. ' For I'm thinking,' he 
 says, ' that we wouldn't be sittin' together on the 
 car now, if that was their fashion.' Indeed, then, 
 I told him I was sorry to hear that, for I'd thought 
 from the look of him that he was the very man that 
 'ud behave handsome at the end of his journey. So 
 with that he turns round, and asks me what did
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 61 
 
 I mean. ' Didn't you say, sir,' says I, ' that I 
 wouldn't be having the pleasure of dhriving your 
 honour if the ould fashion of hangin' was still to 
 the fore?' 'Ah, Paddy,' says he, ' ye're too sharp 
 intirely.' And he quit his funnin' then for the 
 rest o' the stage, and giv' me a good half-crown at 
 the end of it. ' More power, your honour,' says I, 
 thinkin' at the same time that it'd be the betther 
 for him to be goin' back to England and playin' 
 himself there till his wits 'ud be a bit aqual to this 
 country.' And Barney flicked up his horses, and 
 laughed exuberantly at his bagman's discomfiture. 
 
 "It's you can answer them, Barney, I'll engage 
 you," laughed Rochfort ; and while on the subject of 
 bagmen he related to Shirley a capital incident in con- 
 nection therewith which he had had the good fortune to 
 witness at a commercial country inn a few days before. 
 
 Several members of the fraternity in gaiters and 
 three-day collars, spruce pins, and greasy black im- 
 portance, were seated round the table demolishing 
 as many chops and potatoes and bottles of ale and 
 stout as they could crowd into the interval before the 
 train was advertised to start ; filling up the interstices
 
 62 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 with shirtings, cotton stuffs, and wliat-not, when 
 a large, good-humoured, red-faced Irishman called 
 out in a rich brogue to a little peaky Englishman 
 opposite, ^ Sur, I'll take the mustard of you.' The 
 British lion was up in arms at once. ' No, sir, you 
 won't,' he answered, indignantly and emphatically, 
 and the mustard-^^ot was withdrawn yet further from 
 the astonished Irishman's reach. 
 
 Without Eochfort's humorous imitation of the 
 brogue and manner of telling, the story is a mere 
 skeleton, but it is so charmingly illustrative of 
 national peculiarities of idiom and temper that its 
 omission would have been a loss. 
 
 The Black Bogs, as three crags of curious for- 
 mation along the road were called, have been left 
 behind, and they are winding down through a thick 
 natural wood to the village of Geraldsbridge — a 
 village very similar to other Irish villages. There 
 was a very whitewashed police barracks with darkly 
 contrasted windows, and the Royal Constabulary 
 stamp, and the Royal Constabulary themselves 
 lounging easily outside with open tunics, and listen- 
 ing to the scraps of interesting matter which the
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. G3 
 
 sergeant doled out from tlie newspaper, where he 
 was increasing his stock of long words for future 
 use. Of course they all jumped up and saluted, 
 and equally of course they then relapsed again into 
 their normal state of ornamental leisure directly 
 the car had turned the corner. There was a group 
 of labourers' cottages where dirty urchins clung about 
 dirty mothers' skirts, at the doors of dark interiors, 
 whose smoky exhalations had grown all up the wall 
 above. There w^ere tin cans, washing-tubs, and so 
 forth, at intervals, and an occasional black pot out 
 for an airing, and, perhaps, a cur dog scratching the 
 back of his ear in that ungainly position which cur 
 dogs in the enjoyment of that necessary pleasure 
 may usually be seen to favour. There was a forge, 
 too, and men standing about it with their hands in 
 their pockets more Ilihernico ; and last, but by no 
 means least in interest, there was the post-office and 
 shop, where bare-footed women paid five shillings 
 a pound for two-shilling or eighteen-penny tea, and 
 where the men could stimulate their patriotism by 
 looking over the latest Fenian newspaper which lay 
 upon the counter for all comers. Round the corner
 
 64 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 tliere was the bridge, formerly kno^Yn as " the Bloody 
 Bridge," in memory of a celebrated affray in the 
 early days of the Eochfort settlement, when the 
 river underneath was said to have run with the 
 blood of a neighbouring irrupting clan. 
 
 " There," said Alan, as they slackened pace to 
 ascend the pointed incline ; " you don't often see 
 anything finer than that." 
 
 *'No, indeed," said Shirley. "I know it of old. 
 With that sky behind, though, it's magnificent I 
 declare." 
 
 It was. They were looking up the glen. The 
 distant gap was filled wath the glorious after-glow of 
 the sunset, the river was breaking down from the 
 golden distance in flashing gleams of light, and the 
 high banks of trees on either side swelling softly 
 out in the clearness, distinct and motionless as the 
 dark pool below the bridge, which broke away ere long 
 into a foaming rapid set in a like frame of tumbled 
 woodland reaches. There was not a breath to dis- 
 turb the pale clear beauty of the evening ; even the 
 wood-pigeons, dotting the tops of the larches which 
 skirted the demesne, had ceased to welcome their
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. (j5 
 
 fellows as they came sliding clown the air to roost, 
 and the whish of a string of wild geese overhead was 
 for a time the only sound which broke upon the 
 calm. It was like soft music bringing to a close a 
 brilliant piece, or the falling of the curtain upon 
 some grandly stirring scene commenced in passion 
 and ended in repose, which had powerfully aroused 
 the emotions to leave them gently soothed by the 
 soft impressions amidst which it faded out of sight. 
 It was the paling reflection of one of nature's best 
 dissolving views — of one of those bright afternoons 
 which, like golden threads, are unconscious^ wrought 
 up into the web of memory, to be for ever blended 
 with the picture of the past. 
 
 The fir-woods of Geraldscourt loomed beautifully 
 dark against the clearness of the sky, and through 
 the long vista which opened from what was still 
 called, by the courtesy of the neighbourhood, " the 
 Grand Gate," one solitary star was peering like a 
 beacon upon the gathering twilight of the road. 
 The old woman at the lodge shuffled out at the 
 sound of approaching wheels, and proceeded to do 
 her duty by her gate ; but the stately portals, un- 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 mindful that nollesse oblige, or forgetful of their 
 old nobility, resisted all her overtures for a time, 
 and then accompanied enforced compliance with a 
 jarring and a jangling protest, which showed plainly 
 enough that the smooth polish of a former age 
 had been rubbed off by contact with the present. 
 The fact was, they had outlived their age. The 
 palmy days of the house were over, and they ought 
 not to have survived to witness the disorder and ruin 
 and decay around. No wonder they were unwilling 
 to open for a master who cared so little for the look 
 of a place that had been the pride of its former 
 owner, or whose recklessness had so embarrassed 
 him, that he was compelled to leave them to grow 
 rusty and cranky among the weeds and rank grass 
 that were springing up all round, creeping up the 
 leaning pillars and edging all the basement of what 
 once was a fine sweep of outer wall. 
 
 The griffins on either side might have had 
 their complaints to make too, but that, owing to 
 disadvantages of an ornamental nature, they had 
 been condemned to sit for ever, like Patience on a 
 monument, with an eternal grin upon their faces,
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 67 
 
 no matter what mutilations time or little vulgar 
 boys miglit devise for their defacement. One, 
 indeed, had lost a wing, and was a very lop-sided 
 and comical griffin now to see ; suggesting quite a 
 feeling of compassion for the hopelessly and help- 
 lessly savage expression with which he grasped his 
 ball, minus a couple of toes too, which had appa- 
 rently been amputated with a stone, — hammered off 
 in fact. His comrade, whom he stared defiance at 
 across the gate, as thougli animated by the feelings 
 of the Earl of Chatham and longing to be at him, 
 was also a very poor griffin now, with a black moss 
 patch on one eje and a vacant toothless expression 
 utterly incapable of returning the fiery glance from 
 over the way. A doting griffin is a melancholy 
 subject for contemplation ; olog £$ o'lov, one involun- 
 tarily exclaims, — that fiery spirit, that nervous 
 vigour, that concentrated power of expression, gone, 
 all gone, and nothing but that wreck with wings 
 all clipped and spiritless remaining, to point a moral 
 upon the transient nature of all earthly greatness, and 
 to show us how the admired of one generation may 
 be the laughing-stock and scorn of another. Poor
 
 68 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 griffin, 3'ou had your clay, and if we had more time, 
 and a prospect of undeserved indulgence from our 
 critics, we might turn aside and hang another tale 
 upon you. But, alas, we fear some member of the 
 literary force would tell us to be moving on, and so we 
 leave your moss-grown walls regretfully, to follow in 
 the wake of our proper care along that darkening dis- 
 tance, over ruts and patches of uneven stones, and a 
 weed-grown road, alongside of which lay many a good 
 tree rotting and burrowed under by unheeded rabbits. 
 The smell of the firs upon the dewy air was 
 delicious, the purple shade of the heather mingled 
 through them, just, and only just, distinguish- 
 able in the gloaming light, until they reached 
 the second gate, where the hard-wood trees began, 
 and the woods opened out into a more park-like 
 appearance. From this point the road was better 
 cared for, the weeds had been kept under to some 
 extent, or driven to the edges, and under the great 
 avenue of beeches which swept down the approach 
 you might still enjoy the illusion that all the glory 
 of the house was not departed. Trees, however, are 
 not like gates and griffins that depend upon man
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 69 
 
 for the glory of tlieir state, and their noble indepen- 
 dence is never better shown, perhaps, than when 
 they thus rise superior to the fortunes of a falling 
 house. Those old beeches seemed to look down 
 with a strong pity and scorn upon the ruin of all 
 that in their youth had been so fair. Just as in 
 the maturity of his power and his strength, when 
 the steady, persevering growth of years has deve- 
 loped the mighty mind within a man, and he finds 
 himself the pillar of a nation's state, he may look 
 down upon the wreck and ruin amid which he has 
 towered to his present height, and sigh over the 
 falling away and weakness and decay of much that 
 was fair of promise and that might have formed the 
 complement of his strength amongst the companions 
 of his youth. Hereditary honours disgraced and 
 crumbling to the dust ; hereditary talents squan- 
 dered and frittered away in idleness and vice ; beauty 
 defaced with dissipation ; opportunities, like broken 
 vases, useless now ; natural advantages obliterated by 
 an overgrowth of weeds, and the bright spots which 
 still remained serving only to set off the desolation 
 all around.
 
 70 TEliENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 To the avenue a wild shrubbery succeeded, and 
 from this a broad gravel space opened out upon the 
 house and the view beyond. A rambling kind of 
 house it was, with wings on either side, and battle- 
 ments, and a crested portico facing a terrace and a 
 garden and a sweep of lawn terminating in a dark 
 wood, which descended to a wide stretch of plain 
 dimly rolling to the far horizon, where the moon was 
 already rising in the clear sky to claim her empire 
 of the night. Mountains to the right of them, 
 mountains to the left of them, had no particular 
 attraction for our travellers now. Dinner -hour 
 must be close at hand, and the lights in the hall 
 looked more inviting than the mountain outlines, 
 with which both were by this time pretty familiar. 
 
 It was a fine old hall that, as Barney had emphati- 
 cally testified on the occasion of his first introduction 
 to so much splendour ; when, after remaining in mute 
 admiration for some moments, while his eye took in one 
 object of wonder after another, he exclaimed at last, 
 throwing up his chin, '' AVell — they may allhould their 
 tongues after that-'' Irish elks exhumed from the 
 neighbouring bogs had contributed giant antlers, and
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 71 
 
 stags which had flitted between the dark trunks of 
 German forests had supplied contributions to hang be- 
 side the red-deer heads from mountain glens. Bufia- 
 loes and bisons commanded a posthumous admiration 
 from retired corners, while elephants' tusks, lion and 
 tiger skins, tomahawks, yataghans, lassoes, Indian 
 ornaments, and every species of weapon of deadly in- 
 terest, or relic of sporting memory in foreign parts, 
 were scattered about in most admired disorder amongst 
 other trophies of home-sport, such as badgers, otters, 
 martins, eagles, and other stuffed curiosities interest- 
 ing to the ornithologist — one always shoots a rare 
 bird or beast for fear he should breed. Old coats of 
 arms and armour were interspersed among the whole, 
 their dusty, rust}', decaying appearance agreeing well 
 with the worn flag pavement underneath, the broken 
 carving, and the moth-eaten hangings of the windows. 
 But the air of antiquity was becoming, and served as 
 an apology for the not very spruce or fresh appear- 
 ance of the two domestics, who appeared, after a time, 
 to answer the bell, and give information about dinner 
 and other minor matters incident to late arrivals. 
 Lord Shirley was then conducted up the creaking
 
 72 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 staircase to the oak room, which looked out on the 
 garden, the river, and the mountain along which they 
 had recently been driving ; and having been informed 
 by the servant that the ladies had not yet come down, 
 he proceeded to turn a somewhat preoccupied atten- 
 tion to the duties of the hour; amongst which he 
 may very well be left to himself.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 73 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It may be as well to mention, before going any 
 further, that Lord Shirley is the eldest son of the 
 representative of one of the oldest families in Ireland. 
 His father, old Lord Mountstewart, is paralytic, and 
 has a leaning towards idiocy, but his pedigree dates 
 from the Norman Conquest. According to Burke, 
 they trace their descent from one Sir William 
 Stewart, who is described as a "valiant km^ghte " 
 accompanying William the Conqueror into England. 
 The family appears to have settled in Ireland after 
 its conquest by Henry 11. , and we hear of a Sir 
 Hubert being sheriff of one of the Irish divisions in 
 Henry VI.'s reign. Sir Thomas, we are told, was 
 called to the Privy Council of his Majesty James L, 
 and is said to have made an extremely witty remark
 
 74 
 
 to tbat monarch a j)voj)os dcs hottcs. The King, with 
 his usual appreciation of cleverness, laughed heartily- 
 at the Irish humour, but made no note of the mot for 
 the benefit of the future historian of the family. He 
 created him, however. Baron Stewart in the peerage 
 of Ireland, and afterwards Viscount Kilmorris, of 
 Kilmorris, accompanying the honour with a consider- 
 able grant of land, which included the present town 
 of Kilmon-is. The subsequent services of Sir 
 Thomas's grandson, and the gallant defence of his 
 castle against the rebels in 1688, gained for him the 
 earldom of Shirley ; and towards the middle of the 
 eighteenth century the second Earl of Shirley was 
 raised to the dignity of Marquis of Mountstewart in 
 the peerage of Ireland. In the year 1831 his lord- 
 ship's grandson, the present Marquis, was made a 
 peer of the United Kingdom as Lord Stewart. 
 
 Arms : an Irishman, rampant, gules. 
 
 This very ancient family had long been settled at 
 Mount- Stewart, in the lowland part of the county to 
 ^hich Geraldscourt belonged, and for many years had 
 represented the Conservative interest of the county iu 
 Parliament. Since the enforced retirement of Lord
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 75 
 
 Moiintstewart from tlie active management of his 
 property, Lord Shirley had combined the control of 
 the estate with the parliamentary duties which had 
 necessitated his withdrawal from the Life Guards ; 
 and up to the recent dissolution of Parliament his 
 return had not been opposed. Now, however, the 
 priests thought that they saw their way to success ; 
 and the prospect of a contested election coming on 
 had stirred up all the long dormant political feeling 
 of the county, and brought over old Lady Eleanor 
 Rochfort, Alan's mother, to taste once more the 
 excitement of an election upon the old ground where 
 she had been so noted for political energy in days 
 gone by. Like an old war-horse she had snuffed the 
 battle from afar, and had settled herself for two or 
 three months at Geraldscourt to give the w^eight of 
 her presence, and the influence of her keen tongue, 
 to the Conservative cause ; and to see that the old 
 prestige of the house did not suffer from any possible 
 insouciance or half-heartedness in its present owner. 
 Not even the Mountstewarts themselves, with a 
 political faith rooted in the tradition of centuries, 
 could equal Lady Eleanor in stern, uncompromising
 
 76 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 partisanship. Conservatism with her was a passion — 
 a strong conviction grafted upon the inherited politics 
 of her family ; no mere hereditary necessity, as in 
 the case of most Conservatives. " The older I grow," 
 she would say, " the more I see the necessity for 
 being Conservative. There is an odious Radical spirit 
 spreading through the country that must be checked ; 
 and if we Conservatives sit down and quietly look on, 
 instead of exerting ourselves, we shall soon find our- 
 selves nowhere in the race." And holding this 
 opinion, she certainly did throw herself into the 
 struggle with a wdll ; upholding the leaders of the 
 party through thick and thin, not from any personal 
 admiration, or even agreement with the many vagaries 
 of their policy, but purely as representatives of the 
 party which all the energies of her youth had been 
 given to support, and which, in a green old age, she 
 was as zealous about as ever she had been in the 
 time when she used to drive about to see personally 
 unwilling voters or wavering squires, and force them 
 to vote the way she wished. 
 
 As the stately old lady enters the empty drawing- 
 room with that imperious air and step which age had
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 77 
 
 but little cllminishecl, yon can well believe that in 
 her day she had nearly the whole county under her 
 command. Her glance is scarcely less keen and 
 fiery than it was in those days when refractory spirits 
 used to feel its power. Her figure is as upright as it 
 was on the night when she turned her back upon 
 Lord Kilfane at the hunt ball ; and in a tight-fitting 
 high black silk dress, with a roll of muslin round the 
 neck, she looks quite as commandingly handsome as 
 she did in the proudest j^ears of her life, when a 
 word from her was a diploma to youngsters on their 
 social promotion. She seats herself with the Times on 
 one of the ottomans — which, like the rest of the furni- 
 ture of the room, was a remnant of decaj^ed magni- 
 ficence, — and finds the Election Intelligence sufii- 
 ciently interesting to engage her whole attention, 
 until Shirley's entrance causes the firmly-compressed 
 mouth to break into a smile of welcome. 
 
 " Pray don't get up, Lady Eleanor," he said, as 
 she rose with very little of the difficulty of sixty-five, 
 and extended her hand in a cordial, ro^^al kind of way. 
 
 Some old ladies would have liked to be told 
 that they were looking younger than ever; but a
 
 78 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 compliment of that kind Wcas never paid to Lady 
 Eleanor. She stopped a compliment as Charles 
 Lamb's Scotchman would a joke, like a spy in an 
 enemy's country ; except, indeed, from old gentlemen, 
 who, like herself, had passed their jjrcmiere jeuncsse, 
 and with whom it was pleasant to revert to former 
 scenes where her beauty had eclipsed the brightest 
 stars of court and festival. 
 
 "I suppose," she asked, with a sort of sad 
 interest, " that it is no use to expect good news of 
 his lordship?" 
 
 "No change for the better, I'm afraid, Lady 
 Eleanor ; he goes on from day to day in the same 
 kind of way, getting neither better nor worse — 
 existing, and that's all. It's a dreadful thing to see 
 a man, so active and full of life as my father used to 
 be, utterly prostrated in that way." 
 
 " It is indeed very sad ; such a handsome man as 
 I remember him, too. Do 3'ou know. Lord Shirley, if 
 I was to lose the use of my faculties, like your poor 
 father, I should be inclined to kill myself? I suppose, 
 though, that one would have no energy left to do 
 anything of the kind. But tell me," continued
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 79 
 
 Lady Eleanor, "about the election. AVliat are your 
 prospects ? " 
 
 " Not as good as I should like ; we shall have a 
 majority, I believe, but at present a small one only; 
 and with such a mob against us there's no saying 
 what may happen to keep our voters from the poll." 
 
 " We must win. Lord Shirley," exclaimed Lady 
 Eleanor, passionately. " This county must never be 
 represented by a priests' man. I thought I had 
 decided that, the year I fought the election for poor 
 Stanhope. How many votes does Castle Talbot 
 promise ? " 
 
 " Ninety-three. But I never trust him ; at the 
 last election he only polled forty odd." 
 
 *'He was always a coward, that man. I never 
 knev/ him take a decided line on any question ; 
 always popularity-hunting, and ending by becoming 
 popular with neither side. I'll go and call upon him." 
 
 Alan entered the room at this moment through 
 the inner drawing-room, accompanied by his only 
 remaining child, a tall dark girl of nineteen or 
 thereabouts, with a fine sweeping grace of movement, 
 and a slightly haughty expression mingling in her
 
 80 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 large dark eyes with unlimitccl tenderness and love — 
 " an Irish girl all out," as they would say in the 
 country ; further adding that " it was Miss Nora, then, 
 that took the brag out of them all fine in London," 
 where her grandmother had taken her out during the 
 last two seasons. Shirley's listening ear had caught 
 the rustle of her dress mingling with her father's 
 laughing voice ; and as he turned from Lady Eleanor 
 to shake hands, the faintest blush might have been 
 seen deepening upon Nora's cheek, indicative of a 
 consciousness of something more beneath the in- 
 different cordiality which marked their meeting : 
 perhaps she knew that her father's momentary 
 silence meant that he was anxiously watching her. 
 Shirley certainly felt that Lady Eleanor's keen 
 glance was upon them, and his efforts to appear 
 unembarrassed were the more awkward accordingly. 
 
 "Pity," thought Lady Eleanor to herself, as her 
 eye met Nora's, and turned away again leisurely as 
 though it had not met anything there of unusual 
 interest to detain it ; "old famil}- — the right side — 
 everything." 
 
 "Dinner has been announced, Alan," she said
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 81 
 
 aloud to liim, to make a possibly embarrassing pause 
 as short as possible. 
 
 " Come along then," he cried, breaking away 
 from any thought which might have been occupying 
 his mind during the preceding moments. " Shirley, 
 give Lady Eleanor your arm, will you? Come, Nora 
 my darling ; we'll follow them;" and so they crossed 
 the hall again to the only half-lighted glogm of the 
 dining-room, with its surrounding of dark portraits 
 and curious old oak furniture and quaintly fashioned 
 chairs. 
 
 One is apt to be rather hard sometimes upon the 
 well-bred monotony of restraint which people who 
 go much into society are wont to acquire, and in 
 dyspeptic moments may be betrayed into saying 
 many very fine and cynical things about the suppres- 
 sion of natural feelings, and the obliteration of all 
 the picturesqueness of human nature in that much 
 abused world of flabby hands and meaningless 
 expressions and smiles that mark the vacant mind. 
 But that there is a reverse to every coin, and that it 
 is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, are pro- 
 positions which will hardly be denied now when their 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 acceptance has been fortified by the prescription of so 
 many years. If this little party round the dining- 
 table at Geraldscourt had not lived in that world of 
 outward calm, and had not been in the habit for 
 so long of using speech to disguise their thoughts 
 and expression to cover their feelings, do you suppose 
 the dinner could have gone on with all that apparent 
 ease when there was a subject on the minds of all 
 the party, which, unexpressed, was harmless, but 
 to which, if the slightest allusion had been applied, 
 the calmness of the air must at once have been 
 disturbed ? 
 
 Alan apparently had never been in better spirits ; 
 Shirley and Lady Eleanor were engrossed in election 
 interests ; and Nora was the only one whose silence 
 suggested a deeper current of thought below the 
 occasional surface gaiety which she assumed from 
 time to time to enter into the spirit of her father's 
 sallies. The evident pre-occupation of her mind 
 would produce a corresponding absence of interest in 
 Lord Shirley, too, occasionall}', as his eyes returned 
 to his plate after a wandering glance across the table. 
 Of course you know the reason. It is no use wrap-
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 83 
 
 ping it up in a silly yeil of m^'steiy. He was in 
 love, poor young man, witli Nora Eochfort. 
 
 Lady Eleanor, however, was exerting herself to 
 counteract the situation, and proceeded to inquire 
 whether he had read Father Maguire's speech on the 
 previous day at Carrickamore. 
 
 No, he had not, Shirley said ; he had only heard 
 that ahuse was not spared. 
 
 *'I should think not, indeed," said Lady Eleanor. 
 *' When a man comes to telling a mob that land- 
 lords have nothing human about them but the face of 
 human beings, he can't go much further." 
 
 *' Didn't you hear the. advice he gave them?" 
 asked Alan. " 'Nothing like rotten eggs,' he said, 
 * for carrying an election.' There'll not be a bad egg 
 in the market soon — now's your time to buy, Nora." 
 
 Shirley smiled with as much indifference as he 
 could muster under the prospect, and Lady Eleanor 
 went on to deplore the monstrous way in which the 
 priests misused their influence. 
 
 *' Terence Mc Gowan tells me, Alan, that Father 
 Maguire declared to them from the altar, last 
 Sunday, that any Roman Catholic who voted for
 
 84 TERENCE MCGOWAN 
 
 ^^> 
 
 Lord Shirley would be damned ; and that those who 
 voted for the ascendancy candidate would be cut off 
 from the church like rotten branches, and not 
 allowed inside the chapel again." 
 
 " Well, he'll have to keep out a good many of 
 my fellows, then," said Alan, " for I don't think 
 many of them will go against me." 
 
 Loyalty at election times had always been made 
 a point of at Geraldscourt, even by its present pro- 
 prietor ; and it was a point which only one or two 
 priest-fearing leaseholders among the tenantry ever 
 thought of disputing. Their vote seemed to the 
 majority as much the property of the landlord as his 
 rent. 
 
 " I know a good many, at all events," he con- 
 tinued, " that would stick to me through thick and 
 thin, let what will happen, and snap their fingers at 
 all the priests in L-eland." 
 
 "About us at Mount- Stewart, " said Shirley, 
 " they're much more independent than they are up in 
 these superstitious mountain parts. They're more 
 educated, and richer, and the priest finds it his inte- 
 rest not to attempt intimidation."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 85 
 
 " Oil ! it's monstrous, quite, " reiterated Lady 
 Eleanor. " And then for people to tell one that the 
 ballot is the only effectual remedy for intimidation in 
 Ireland ! Just as if the priest would not have it all 
 his own way then altogether. He could always find 
 out, and the landlord never could ; and the tenant 
 would probably make capital with his landlord out of 
 his vote, which he had given all the time to the 
 priest : we should have nothing to set against the 
 power which confession gives them." 
 
 *' There was a very good little squib on confession 
 that my mother had printed on a fly-leaf and dis- 
 tributed a short time ago," said Shirley. *' A man 
 goes to his priest to confess, and asks what he'll have 
 to pay. ' A shilling,' the priest tells him. ^ And 
 who does your reverence confess to ? ' asks the man. 
 His reverence confesses to the bishop. * And does 
 the bishop get paid ? ' * To be sure he does, and 
 mighty big pay too.' So he went on from the bishop 
 to the archbishop, from the archbishop to the car- 
 dinal, and from the cardinal to his Holiness the Pope, 
 on an ascending scale of charge, which culminated 
 ill the great money entirely required by the Pope.
 
 86 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 ' And who does the Pope confess to ? ' the man goes 
 on. ' The Pope ! why, to God himself, of course,' 
 says the priest. ' And does he pay too ? ' ' Not at 
 all; lie gets confession for nothing.' 'Well, please 
 your reverence,' says the other, ' I'm thinking I'll 
 make my confession to God, too, and save my shil- 
 ling ; ' and with that he walks away and buys a hand- 
 kerchief, or something for his wife, I think, instead." 
 
 *' Ah ! if they could only be induced to reason 
 for themselves," said Lady Eleanor, '' instead of 
 surrendering their judgment to priests as ignorant, 
 very often, as themselves." 
 
 " Did I ever tell you how Barney the postboy 
 reasoned for himself with Father Maguire one day, 
 mother?" asked Alan. 
 
 "You'll have to remember Barney in your will," 
 said Lady Eleanor, *' for all the good stories he 
 provides you with. AVliat was it about ? " 
 
 "It was one day he met the priest in town, look- 
 ing extra red and jolly, as if he had just had a few 
 tumblers of the right mixture, and Barney thought it 
 was a fine opportunity to get something out of him. 
 So he goes up to him in his comical way, and tells
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 87 
 
 liim that it was a mortial hot day, and that the 
 drouth upon him was past bearing; wouldn't his rever- 
 ence give him a shilHng to drink his health with ? 
 
 '' 'Ah ! Barney, my son,' says, the priest, 'how 
 w^ould I have a shilling to give you, and you not 
 paying your dues too regularly at all ? ' 
 
 " ' Make it sixpence, then, your reverence,' says 
 Barney, ' for I wouldn't like to be too forward.' 
 
 '' * There's not one should have it before yourself, 
 Barney, and that's the real truth, if I had it about 
 me; but it's not with your priest you need be 
 looking for money, for it's but a poor way of living, 
 indeed, he has himself.' 
 
 " Barney then came down to a penny. 
 
 *' 'Well, just for your teasing me now,' says 
 Father Maguire, ' you'll not get that even.' 
 
 " ' Nor a halfpenny either ? ' 
 
 " ' Nor a halfpenny either.' 
 
 " ' Then, will you give me your blessing, your 
 reverence ? ' 
 
 "'Indeed, and I will do that,' says the priest, 
 * and willingly ; for there's not a better boy in the 
 town than yourself this minute.'
 
 88 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 *' ' Many thanks to you for the intention, your 
 reverence,' says Barney ; ' hut I'll not he trouhling 
 you this time, in regard that if it was worth as much 
 as a halfpenny I'd not he getting it at all.' 
 
 " So he walked off then, and left Father Maguire 
 looking foolish enough, and he's not been too fond of 
 him since." 
 
 " Oh, Barney's the hoy doesn't care a bit 
 for one of them," said Shirle}^ 
 
 " But I believe Father Maguire is dispensing a 
 lot of Brady's money through the country," he con- 
 tinued. " They have a tearing mob hired from 
 Corranmore, I'm told. In Kilmorris, the people are 
 afraid of their lives : they say it's going to be a 
 wicked election. Two more troops of cavalry were 
 to come in to-day, and another company of infantry 
 next week, or the week after, so that as far as 
 military go we shall do." 
 
 " The Miss Bradys will have their work cut out 
 with so many new ' afficers,' " laughed Eochfort. 
 " Did you hear the last good story of the eldest, who 
 is by way of being chaperone to the rest ? They 
 happened to be giving a dance at that place of
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 89 
 
 theirs outside Kilmorris just as tlie new lot of sol- 
 diers arrived ; and Mr. and the Misses Brady natu- 
 rally lost no time in securing their services. All 
 was fish, of course, that came to these fellows' net 
 in the way of diversion, and so they ordered round 
 the old mourning coach of the town, which was the 
 onty conveyance to be had, and drove up in state. 
 Their names were not announced, and Miss Brady 
 probably had no army list. However, she presenth* 
 caught sight of young Glenboy loitering about the 
 door without a partner, and came up and asked him 
 if she should find him one. ' I suppose ye're one 
 of the new afficers ? ' ' Yes, he was,' Glenboy said. 
 * And what name shall I say ? ' ' Glenboy.' ' Is it 
 Cap-tain Glenboy ? ' ' No— Lord Glenbo}^,' he said, 
 as cool as jou please. ' Lord Glenboy ! ' says 
 Miss Brady. ' Oh, indeed ! I'll dance with you 
 myself.' And so she carried him off and my-lorded 
 him till he nearly choked with laughing, and told all 
 the room who she had been dancing with, until 
 
 some d d good-natured friend informed her that 
 
 all the title he could boast was cornet of dragoons." 
 ''That's a wild lad," said Shirley, laughing;
 
 90 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 " several respectable householders in Kilmorris owe 
 him a grudge, too, for breaking their windows, and 
 other disagreeable pranks of the kind. He and one 
 or two more regularly wrecked a man's house, I 
 believe, one night after a large mess dinner." 
 
 *' Boys will be l)oys — eh, Lady Eleanor ? " asked 
 her son, v^'ho would not have been above joining in 
 eccentricities of the kind himself. 
 
 Lady Eleanor, however, did not appear to have 
 any sympathy with such inconvenient manifestations 
 of the youthful principle, and Alan went on to relate 
 another story, of the second Miss Brady this time. 
 
 "I forget the man's name," he said, ''but it 
 v/as one of the last lot. They used to ask him out 
 there to tea, and so forth, when the father was 
 attending to his business in Dublin ; and she's a 
 handsome girl, that second one, if you can get over 
 the brogue. He used to amuse himself very well 
 in making love to her over his tea. She used to 
 tell him she was ' awfully fond of plom-cake,' and 
 he used to tell her, I suppose, that he was awfully 
 fond of her. And so they went on, smoothly and 
 pleasantly enough, until one day, after a more than
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 91 
 
 usually tender speech wliicli had not been followed 
 Ly the expected proposal, she looked up at him, lan- 
 guishmgly, ^ Ah ! Captain, I'm afraid ye're a flirrt.' 
 
 '' The whole thing was so very comic that he 
 couldn't, for the life of him, help half-laughing, and 
 she bounced away out of the room, and never spoke 
 to him again." 
 
 Lady Eleanor here broke in to cry a truce to 
 these garrison anecdotes, which were very little 
 to her taste, and, presumably, not very acceptable 
 to her granddaughter. 
 
 '' That young Brady, I believe, is a dreadful 
 scamp," she said; " so, at least, my trusty Terence 
 tells me." 
 
 *' I can endorse that, Lady Eleanor," said 
 Shirley ; "he breeds mischief on all the properties 
 round Ballyduff — taking up cases against landlords, 
 and urging tenants on to litigation. I had a case 
 only the other day with a man named Nolan, over in 
 Loughris, that was entirely got up by him, my agent 
 tells me. He makes an agreement to take no money 
 unless he gets his client a verdict ; so, of course, 
 "when they can lose nothing, and may gain whatever
 
 92 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 may be in dispute, they are glad enough to listen 
 to him." 
 
 ^' He has no connection with the father, I 
 believe ? " 
 
 " None. He lives altogether in Ballyduff, and 
 the father has his office in Dublin. I see him in 
 Kilmorris with his sisters occasionally." 
 
 ** This man you mention had a lease, of course ? " 
 said Lady Eleanor. 
 
 '' Certainly ; he wouldn't have thought of re- 
 sisting otherwise. It was a very clear case. My 
 agent found that he was holding more land by an 
 acre or more than he was entitled to by his lease, 
 and naturally required him to give up possession. 
 He told him that if he could get it he might take 
 it. Young Brady promised to make out a case for 
 him ; and the upshot of it is that Nolan has some- 
 thing like two hundred pounds to pay for the costs 
 of the case, and has to give up possession. But I 
 don't pity him, for he's one of the most troublesome 
 tenants I have, — an idle, good-for-nothing, unim- 
 proving fellow, with a long lease at a nominal rent, 
 and a red-hot rebel in politics, I'm told."
 
 THE IIIISH TENANT. 93 
 
 '* That's a brother of a man I got convicted for 
 poaching, under the Whiteboy Act, some years ago, 
 I expect," said Piochfort, " before your reign. It 
 was a case of bhickened faces and beating, I re- 
 member. They're a bad lot, those Nolans." 
 
 *' This man's case seems only to furnish another 
 instance of the impolicy of giving leases to Irish 
 tenants," said Lady Eleanor. ^'AVithout a lease 
 they can be made amenable to reason ; with a lease 
 they certainly cannot. To make it compulsory upon 
 landlords to give leases, as these fixity of tenure 
 people propose, would not only be iniquitous to the 
 owners of the land, but ruinous to the country, 
 from the increased power it would give to the small 
 tenants of mismanaging themselves and their farms 
 into difficulties and poverty. There are a good half- 
 dozen cogent reasons, m my opinion, why an Irish 
 tenant should not have a lease. I mean, of course, 
 the poorer class of tenants, who are the majority 
 by far in Ireland : large farms, such as you have 
 about Mount- Stewart, are in a different case alto- 
 gether." 
 
 ^' To start with," continued Lady Eleanor, "ad-
 
 94 TEEENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 —, 
 
 vocates of leases proceed upon the false assumption 
 that the Irish tenant is burning with energy and 
 eagerness to improve, and that his energy is only 
 cramped, and his anxiety for improvement 2^revented 
 from having its way through insecurity of tenure ; 
 that, in fact, the Irish nature is exactly the same as 
 the Scotch or the English, and that he only wants 
 fair play to develop it. But you must agree with 
 me. Lord Shirley, from your experience of your 
 poorer properties, that there is no such spirit of 
 enterprise among the people at all. Now look at 
 Alan's property here ; it's no use talking to him 
 about it, he's incorrigible — I've talked till I'm 
 tired " 
 
 " What treason are you talking over there, 
 mother? " Kochfort asked, good-humouredly, breaking 
 off for the moment a playful conversation which he 
 had been carrying on with Nora, since he saw that 
 his mother and Shirley had taken a decided plunge 
 into politics. 
 
 " I am taking your property as a specimen of 
 a carelessly managed estate where the tenants can 
 do just as they please, and have just as much
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 95 
 
 security for improvements as tliey would if every 
 one of tliem had leases, to show how infinitesimal 
 the imj^rovement is compared to what it might be." 
 Eochfort shrugged his shoulders resignedly and 
 resumed his banter with Nora, and Lady Eleanor 
 continued to Shirley : " His rents have not been 
 raised for twenty years. They have no reason to 
 suppose that they will be now ; they know that 
 evictions are almost unknown ; they have the utmost 
 confidence in their tenure under him — and you know 
 they never look beyond the present to the contingency 
 of the property passing into less indulgent hands — 
 what greater security can they have ? what greater 
 security would a lease give them? and yet the 
 amount of land reclaimed during the last twenty 
 years, considering its easily reclaimable nature and 
 the number of the population which he — very wrongly 
 I think — allows to occupy it, is scarcely worth 
 mentioning." 
 
 " I'm no believer in leases in general as a 
 stimulus to improvement," said Shirley, " and I 
 could produce more than one instance where a lease 
 had had the effect of producing listlessness and
 
 96 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 indolence in the case of a man who as a tenant at 
 will had been an improver. The way I do with 
 reclaimed lands is to allow them to be held at a 
 nominal rent for so many years after they have 
 become profitable, and if a man doesn't think it worth 
 his while to reclaim upon those terms, which are 
 immensely to his profit as well as to mine afterwards, 
 I don't think the longer immunity from rent which 
 he would have under a lease would create the energj^ 
 which he couldn't muster up before. Some land- 
 lords, of course, will put on a rent at once, and even 
 then it may be worth a tenant's while to reclaim the 
 land and then hold it at that rent ; but they will 
 get no pa3'ment for their labour, and in such cases 
 I can understand that they will seem to themselves 
 to be improving solely for the landlord's benefit. I 
 think a certain term of years, according to the nature 
 of the improvement and the time which it takes to 
 repay the labour and capital expended, should be 
 made compulsory upon all landlords. It would only 
 be levelling up the bad to the good." 
 
 Lady Eleanor didn't much like the word " com- 
 pulsory ; " it sounded like an interference with the
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 97 
 
 rights of property. " But at least," she said, " that 
 would be preferable to an obligation to give leases ; 
 for unless it is understood that a man without a 
 lease will not reclaim, or drain, or build, or make 
 such improvements at all as he would if a lease 
 were given him, twenty-one or thirty-one years is 
 too long a time to keep landlords out of a share in 
 the profits which the tenant begins to realize in the 
 case of reclaimed bog-land in two or three years — 
 having repaid himself for the whole of his labour 
 and outlay in that period. Your terms of compensa- 
 tion, too, would have the advantage of creating a 
 feeling of security without depriving the landlord 
 of the hold on his tenants which a lease annihilates. 
 And I maintain that in Ireland such a hold is abso- 
 lutely necessary, where you have to deal with people 
 who acknowledge no law of reason, and cannot be 
 made to see reason except under the pressure of 
 their immediate interests being endangered if they 
 don't.", 
 
 *' It is that peculiarly unreasonable nature of the 
 Irish mind that makes me so reluctant always to 
 give leases," said Lord Shirley. " An Irishman 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 cannot, or prefers not to see that the terras of an 
 agreement are bmding on him as well as on the 
 other party concerned. It's all take and no give 
 with him. The landlord must observe his agreement 
 to the letter, but if the tenant infringes any of the 
 clauses, he thinks it a very hard case that he should 
 be called to account for it. In consequence of this 
 peculiar state of mind, he is always breaking the 
 covenants of his lease ; and yet, however clear the 
 evidence, no jury will ever give a verdict against him, 
 because he is one of themselves. So that a lease, 
 in many cases, virtually becomes a carte blanche to 
 the tenant to do as he pleases with his farm for 
 a certain number of years, subdivide, exhaust, im- 
 poverish, ruin it to his heart's content, just as he 
 would if he was not looked after at all." 
 
 "Exactly so," said Lady Eleanor, in her decided 
 way; "and it is just these important details which 
 make up the essence and marrow of a question which 
 Radical agitators know nothing and care less about. 
 When did Mr. Bright ever condescend to details ? 
 Fine high-sounding generalization is all he cares 
 about. Details are beneath his notice ; they win
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 99 
 
 liim no applause. There's notliing popular about 
 a dug-up detail ; and so he carefully avoids allowing 
 his speeches to be spoilt by them, or by any other 
 knowledge which might hamper his imagination or 
 encumber him in his fine flights into abstract gene- 
 ralities. But there's another reason," continued 
 Lady Eleanor, " why leases are most strongly to 
 be deprecated. The more leases, the more the people 
 become independent of their landlords, and the more 
 they come under the influence of the priest. And 
 when it is a contest between landlords and priests, 
 between intelligence and ignorance, it is clearly 
 inexpedient knowingly to throw additional weight 
 into the scale of ignorance. Temporal considera- 
 tions are too powerful at present for spiritual ones ; 
 in the case of general leases spiritual influence would 
 be as supreme as if we had the ballot, except 
 where there existed a feudal feeling which bound 
 the tenant to his landlord at election times, or 
 in the rare instances where voters had independent 
 convictions." 
 
 " Bless you, they have no convictions," broke 
 in Alan, who had been listening to the latter part
 
 100 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 of his mother's sentiments. " They'd be very glad 
 not to have a vote at alL They're in fear of their 
 lives at every election, more than half of them, and 
 the rest only look upon it as a fine opportunity for 
 a good party fight." 
 
 ''The Irish county voters," said Shirlej^ "care 
 just as little about politics, I fancy, as the English 
 artisan does about reform. The mob and the 
 agitators and the Eadical papers do all the noise and 
 talking, and the electors get the credit of it." 
 
 " There is a certain feeling about the land, I 
 think," said Lady Eleanor, " and a kind of abstract 
 hatred of Protestants, which is kept up by the priests 
 for their own purposes. There was a Protestant girl 
 here not long ago who positively refused to sleep in 
 the same room with a Roman Catholic ; not that she 
 objected to her individually, but merely from the 
 general aversion which the priests have fostered be- 
 tween one religion and the other." 
 
 This was Lady Eleanor's ingenious way of putting 
 it ; but if she had not had such a strong Conservative 
 dislike to everything connected with Eome in L-eland, 
 she might have done the Protestants the justice to
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 101 
 
 admit that there was a certam spontaneity ahout 
 their hatred of Roman Catholics which could hardly 
 be attributed to provocation from the other side. 
 No opportunity, however, was afforded her at present 
 for considering the doubtful justice of her interpre- 
 tation of the mutual dislike which existed, for Alan 
 was busily rapping the table and shaking the dessert- 
 dishes and wine-glasses Avith a little preliminary 
 Kentish fire, for the purpose of introducing to their 
 Protestant sympathies " the glorious memory of the 
 great and good King William, who had saved them 
 from popery and knavery, roguery and slavery, brass 
 money and wooden shoes, and a fig for the Bishop 
 of Cork." The various other terrible evils of a like 
 nature from which he is rhythmically supposed to 
 have delivered his devoted Orangemen, he forbore 
 to enumerate ; and Shirley, after a faint disclaimer 
 of Orange sympathies, returned to Lady Eleanor's 
 boldly asserted views in reference to landlord-dicta- 
 tion at elections. He hardly w^ent so far as she did 
 here, and had only a few days before been making 
 a point against his opponent by announcing in public, 
 what was indeed the fact, that he was credibly
 
 102 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 informed that Mr. Brady had notices to quit served 
 on every one of his tenants, with a view to their 
 ejectment the very next day if they voted against 
 him. 
 
 *' If a county election," he said to Lady Eleanor, 
 "was to turn altogether upon the land question, would 
 you still insist upon your tenants supporting you 
 against their own interests ? Do you think a land- 
 lord could fairly use his influence in that case ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do. It is begging the question to say 
 that their interests would be on the other side. I 
 consider that I should be furthering their real interests 
 in making them oppose the Radical candidate, who 
 promises all kinds of sweeping changes which are to 
 benefit the tenant-farmer, but which, in reality, will 
 leave him ultimately in a very much worse case than 
 he is in at present. If they have no conviction or 
 intelligence to look forward for themselves, they 
 ought to be very glad to have their votes directed 
 by those who can look forward for them, and save 
 them from the inevitable consequences of their short- 
 sightedness and thoughtless grasping at specious 
 shadows."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 103 
 
 This was a bold theory of her ladyship's, which, 
 if carried to its legitimate conclusion, might have 
 taken her back a long way beyond the first Eeform 
 Bill, and landed her in a snug little model oligarchy 
 of her own, where landlords — Conservative landlords ! 
 — arrogating to themselves all political wisdom, would 
 dictate the country policy ; subject only to the oppo- 
 sition of a few self-asserting Whig proprietors, or 
 becoming themselves an imperium in imperlo, under 
 the educating hands of their still wiser leaders. 
 Moreover, in the consciousness of her ovrn righteous 
 convictions and unimpeachable motives, and imbued 
 with proprietary associations derived from only 
 honourable sources, she overlooked the possibility 
 of any landlord being in a dilemma between his 
 interest and his conscience, and being actuated by 
 any other motive than the good of his country, or 
 compelling his tenants to vote against what he 
 believed to be their interest, in order that his own 
 might not suffer, and the absolute power of extortion 
 which he possessed might not be diminished. And 
 further, between Tory and Eadical principles she 
 acknowledged no Liberal mean ; and in Lord Shirley
 
 104 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 she was concerned to think that she had already 
 detected a dangerous unsoundness from the enun- 
 ciation of moderate views, which he would probably 
 call Liberal-Conservative. " The whole hog or none " 
 was the only view she could take of Irish politics, 
 and any one who was ready to admit that legislation 
 at all was required, must inevitably be drifting 
 towards Kadicalism, and secretly fostering a sneak- 
 ing affection for the abolition of the Church Estab- 
 lishment, compulsory leases, fixity of tenure, and 
 every other strong measure with which the political 
 palates of the people were stimulated by priestly 
 agitators. So may even shrewd old ladies become 
 standing examples of the unreasoning prejudices 
 which they decry, if they allow their political opinions 
 to be developed by the recognized Conservative pro- 
 cess of natural selection. So, too, may a good cause 
 be lost by the uncompromising tenacity with which 
 its advocates adhere to it, jealous of allowing the 
 existence of a weak point, for fear an opportunity 
 should be afforded of inserting at that point the thin 
 end of the wedge which shall split up irretrievably 
 the whole.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 105 
 
 In illustration of the folly from wliicli, in Lady 
 Eleanor's opinion, landlords should interpose to save 
 their tenants, she took, as a further instance, the 
 cry for the general diffusion and legalization of the 
 Ulster tenant-right, which was adopted by one section 
 of the land-agitators. 
 
 " Now, what worse principle than that ever could 
 be sanctioned by law?" she asked. "How could it 
 possibly become the practice in the case of large 
 farms of five or six hundred acres ? Where woul 
 the man get capital in Ireland to pay a tenant-right 
 of five pounds or more an acre on coming into such 
 a farm ? what would he have left to stock it with 
 afterwards ? supposing too that he had to pay a fine 
 for a lease at the same time ? And in the case of 
 small farmers, isn't it self-evident that when they 
 exhaust all their little capital in entering upon their 
 land, it must be years before they can save up 
 enough to expend on improvements ? It is mis- 
 chievous for the landlord and mischievous for the 
 tenant." 
 
 " No doubt of it," said Shirley. " I'm trying to 
 eradicate it from the parts of the Mount- Stewart
 
 106 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 property on which it exists, by buying up tenant- 
 rights as they fall in; but where it does exist — 
 where a man, or his father, or grandfather before 
 him, has sunk so much in buying the tenant-right 
 of a farm — I should make his claim a legal one, 
 which it is in equity, to insure him his own again in 
 case of capricious eviction, or to protect him against 
 an unprincipled landlord." 
 
 '* On certain farms, then, you Avould perpetuate 
 the system ? " 
 
 " What can you do ? Unless the landlord has 
 the money or the will to buy up the claim, the 
 outgoing tenant has no one to enforce it against but 
 the incoming tenant ; and clearly it is unfair that, 
 having paid the money under the idea that it was 
 recoverable again according to established usage, he 
 should be made to suffer the loss of it. I'm not 
 sure. Lady Eleanor," continued Shirley, " that the 
 exhaustion of their capital is a very forcible argument 
 against the introduction of the system in a great 
 many cases. The small farmers are so penurious 
 and hoarding by nature, that if their savings 
 were not spent in this way they would only lie in
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 107 
 
 the roof or out at usury, and not be employed in 
 improving their farms. Agitators would say, * Of 
 course not, when they have no security for the enjoy- 
 ment of the results of their labour, and no prospect 
 of compensation ; when the property they have created 
 is taken from them, is it likely they will lay out 
 money upon improvements ? ' But it's the greatest 
 mistake to suppose that the Ulster tenant-right is 
 any security for compensation to the tenant for the 
 improved value of the farm. We all know that that 
 tenant-right is regulated by no law of reason or valua- 
 tion. The value of a farm is not considered by the 
 half-dozen men who are eager to get it at any price. 
 In some cases the landlord doesn't allow more than 
 five pound an acre to be given as tenant-right ; but 
 I never heard of anybody in a district where the 
 demand for land was great, giving less because the 
 farm was in a bad condition, or not being eager to 
 give a great deal more to get it, whether there were 
 improvements or not to be taken into consideration. 
 The tenant-right is regulated merely by the laws of 
 supply and demand ; and a man may get much or little 
 according to the number of applicants and the lengths
 
 108 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 to which their thoughtless greed for land at any 
 price may carry them. Compensation from the 
 landlord for the increased rent which the outgoing 
 tenant's improvements enable him to put on, will 
 always be a question outside of the tenant-right, 
 which he would have got just the same without any 
 improvements at all in many cases." 
 
 "That's very true; so that even if j'ou don't 
 allow that it would be always mischievous and often 
 impracticable, it would, at any rate, be utterly useless 
 for the purpose for which alone it would be intro- 
 duced — as a guarantee to the tenant for the enjoy- 
 ment of property which he had created. But even if 
 it answered this end of compensating the outgoing 
 tenant, the landlord would still enjoy the benefit of 
 his improvements, only at the expense of the in- 
 coming tenant; and it would not touch any but a 
 tenant who was leaving a farm. Those who remained 
 would be just as liable as before to be made to pay 
 rent, after a time, for land which they had been 
 allowed to expend their industry upon solely for their 
 own benefit for several previous years. This would 
 never satisfy the outcry against landlords whose
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 109 
 
 tenants had created a property for liim and them- 
 selves out of a wilderness." 
 
 " Isn't it astonishing," Lady Eleanor continued, 
 *' how little knowledge or reason these people have ? 
 As if it was not in the very nature of landed property 
 to be an improving source of wealth. If it were not 
 for this, with the position which it gives to the owner 
 and the pleasures of proprietorship, who would put 
 his money into land when there are so many other 
 mvestments which would give a much better return, 
 subject to none of the outgoings incident to land ? 
 But these Radicals persuade the people that it would 
 be nothing but justice to deprive landlords of every 
 advantage connected with the ownership of property. 
 Their position they would take away by the ballot ; 
 their pleasure and interest in their property by taking 
 the management of it out of their hands, and trans- 
 ferring it to the Government — which, more than any 
 loan, would bring about the sale of Irish properties, 
 with the consequent evils of small proprietors and sub- 
 division : and their profit, too, they would deny them 
 by making the tenant the owner, subject to a head-rent 
 payable to the landlord, which, no matter how the land
 
 110 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 increased in value, was never to be raised. Why, my 
 notion of a tenant, Lord Shirley, is a man put in to 
 till the land for the landlord, who can't hold his 
 whole estate in his own hands, and who finds it con- 
 venient to employ a certain number of men upon 
 other portions of it, to whom he allows a certain 
 share of the profits in return for their labour and the 
 trouble which they save him. I consider that an 
 estate is a microcosm, to which the parable of the 
 talents is as applicable as to the world generally — 
 that a landlord has a right to expect his tenant to 
 make the most of his land, and if he doesn't do so, 
 that he, most unquestionably, has a right to turn him 
 out. "What possible claim to occupation can a tenant 
 have beyond the will of the landlord ? " 
 
 *'Well, in Ireland, I suppose, it's a claim of 
 humanity more than anything else," said Shirley ; 
 "the population having no other resources for gain- 
 ing the means of living except by the occupation of 
 land." 
 
 "If they can't occupy land to the satisfaction of 
 their employers, then let them go where they can 
 find some employment for which they are more
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. Ill 
 
 fitted. There is plenty of room in the world still, 
 and an Irishman, or man of any country, has no more 
 claim to have a residence secured to him upon his 
 native soil than your younger brothers would have to 
 become squatters in the park at Mount- Stewart. The 
 position of your house and the law of primogeniture 
 require that your park should not be subdivided, and 
 therefore the younger members of it seek their 
 fortunes in other countries. The general welfare of 
 Ireland requires that the number of holdings should 
 not be allowed to increase ; the proprietary rights of 
 landlords give them power to regulate these as they 
 think fit, and why should the families of the peasantry 
 against expediency and against the law of the land, 
 which is made to support what is expedient, assert a 
 right of occupancy any more than the younger sons 
 of a wealthy house? If God had intended every 
 nation to remain upon its own soil, the world would 
 never have been populated ; and the more prolific 
 people — why the theory is absurd. But how can you 
 expect an Irishman to think outside his prejudice, or 
 to look forward to the future ? I think Sir eJonali 
 Barrington's story of the Irishman who decapitated
 
 112 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 himself in trying to spear a salmon with the butt-end 
 of a scythe, is really not at all improbable." 
 
 Shirley laughed. Lady Eleanor's impatience at 
 Eadical unreason was carrying all political economy 
 before it, like some rushing river sweeping along 
 through unregarded plains ; and if Real and Personal 
 Property would only have agreed to merge their dif- 
 ferences, and stand joint godfather to her premisses, 
 who shall say that her conclusions were indefensible ? 
 
 However, she continued : "If all the landlords 
 in Ireland chose to turn their estates into gigantic 
 farms, like one or two we might mention, or like the 
 sheep-farms of Scotland, who is to say them nay ? 
 What right of occupation could any man assert to 
 another man's property ? or what right can any man 
 claim to the improvements which he was put into the 
 land to make?" 
 
 " None, of course, to any which had only developed 
 in the natural course of cultivation ; but if you look 
 upon the tenant merely in the light of a responsible 
 steward or labourer, you wouldn't expect him to lay 
 out money for your benefit without giving him some 
 return ? "
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 113 
 
 "He gets his return at the same time that you 
 get it. If the landlord does not provide the money 
 — if the tenant lends him his labour, that is, the 
 capital for his outlay — then, to be sure, he should 
 be guaranteed the repayment of it, principal and 
 interest; and when, by holding his improvement at a 
 nominal rent for some years, this had been done, he 
 can have no further equitable claim ; and the landlord 
 may or may not, with perfect justice, allow him from 
 that time forth to participate in the profits by leaving 
 the property with him at a fair rent, or giving it to 
 somebody else at a fair rent as he may think fit." 
 
 ''You agree with me, then, that the tenant ought 
 to be allowed to claim a certain term of immunity 
 from rent to compensate him for his outlay of labour 
 or capital, and in the event of his tenure coming to 
 an end before that term expires, to be able to demand 
 an equivalent in money?" 
 
 "Certainly; and he generally gets it, I should 
 suppose." 
 
 " Not from an extortionate landlord : and by 
 law at present he can't claim it. It would be easy 
 to specify in detail what were improvements and what 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 TEKEXCE MCGO\yAN, 
 
 were not, as far as ordinary improTements went ; 
 and if the tenant didn't choose to improve upon those 
 terms, it would be for the landlord to consider whether 
 his interest would be served by holding out the 
 additional inducement of a longer term by lease. 
 I believe equitable compensation would thus be 
 placed within his reach" — Lady Eleanor noticed 
 with some alarm that Lord Shirley seemed to think 
 the nature of the improvements requiring compensa- 
 tion might be determined by law, instead of by the 
 sanction of the landlord — " and we should get rid of 
 this objectionable cry for leases. As far as perpe- 
 tuity of tenure and right of occupancy go, I quite 
 agree with you that it would be a monstrous thing 
 to deprive a landlord of the power of turning off a 
 tenant who was ruining his land, or stirring up ill- 
 feeling on the estate, or making himself a nuisance 
 in any way." 
 
 "So do I, my dear mother," said Alan, "quite 
 agree with you in everything except your partiality 
 for politics. Nora has been dying to get into the 
 drawing-room for the last half-hour, I'm sure. 
 Haven't you, Nora ? "
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 115 
 
 Shirley made some confused observation about 
 having been very rude. Nora pretended to have 
 found the conversation deeply interesting, and Lady 
 Eleanor, as she rose from the table, told Alan it was 
 hopeless ever to expect him to take an interest in 
 any rational subject, received some laughing re- 
 joinder from him, and sailed away through the hall 
 with her granddaughter in tow. 
 
 Alan, throwing a last word after Nora, shut the 
 door, and returned to Shirley, and the jocose and 
 anecdotic style of discourse which he found more 
 suitable to his humour. In this respect his humour 
 was not a peculiar one. Through the whole of Irish 
 society there runs a vein of joke and anecdote, which 
 finds its most rollicking development, perhaps, in 
 what does duty for the middle class in that 
 country — among squireens, doctors, small agents, and 
 attorneys of a better kind. It is there you find the 
 true "hilarrity," when the teaspoons are jingling 
 in the tumblers, and the light of other days is 
 playing over the hot-water kettle and materials 
 which a buxom parlour-maid, or a grewsome man- 
 of-all-work, has just deposited upon the mahogany
 
 116 TEEENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 table. The upper part of the tree draws a good deal 
 of its Hfe from the lower, but the middle has a fund 
 of its own, and the sympathies of the extremities 
 seem to flow through it without mingling. 
 
 Some people will tell you that you never meet an 
 Irishman now who makes you laugh ; that politics 
 have overshadowed the land. We are certainly no 
 longer at the end of the last century ; but go about 
 among the people, and listen to the stories and 
 quaintly expressed anecdotes which they can produce 
 from the experience of most uneventful lives, and 
 you will not have any reason to believe that Fancy 
 and Humour have yet been frightened into extinction 
 by the hovering shade of Ribbonism.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 117 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 However fading and decayed the rest of Geralds- 
 court house might he, Nora's hack drawing-room 
 always looked as fresh and hahitahle as if its carpet 
 had heen of the newest Brussels, and its furniture of 
 the gaudiest and ugliest modern taste. Of course 
 we know that a woman always contrives to give a 
 comfortable look to the most unpromising apartment 
 — disposing a knick-knack here, a cushion there, and 
 making a hundred and one other trifling arrange- 
 ments which men (according to the verdict of the 
 other sex) never would think of, have no taste for, 
 would consider too insignificant for their attention, 
 and not worthy to waste time upon. Not to dwell 
 upon the fact that exceptions to this comparative 
 estimate of the sexes are continually obtruding
 
 118 TERENCE MCGO\YAN, 
 
 the proof of the rule upon our notice, we may 
 admit that Nora Rochfort had succeeded in vindi- 
 cating the female character in this respect. Scattered 
 about on every side v/ere presents of one kind or 
 another from her father, and sofas, chairs, and 
 curtains all bloomed vdth the many-coloured glories 
 of her woolwork. Why waste time, however, on a 
 description of the frame instead of getting on at 
 once to the ])icture. We scarcely hope to number 
 Mrs. Brown among our readers ; and if our readers 
 share our taste — Avhich we sincerely hope for their 
 gratification they do — they will have the greatest 
 aversion to coming across long bits of realistic 
 description eminently illustrative of the author's 
 knowledge of upholstery, but admirably adapted for 
 sending his patients to sleep, and perhaps a little 
 suggestive of a deficiency of material. 
 
 Allons, then, to the picture. 
 
 After this parturient introduction, of course you 
 expect something is coming, and, of course, you are 
 disappointed when you only find Lady Eleanor in an 
 armchair, deep in The Times, and Nora sitting at 
 the tea-table, three-quarter face only towards it
 
 THE IRISH TENAIsT. 119 
 
 (photographic terms are useful in photographic 
 writing), with her hook half resting in her Lap, and 
 her eyes ahsorhed in thought. At the same time 
 it is a picture worth looking at, for it is not every 
 day that you have an opportunity of staring at a face 
 like Nora Kochfort's without laying yourself open to 
 the imputation of had manners, or falling a victim 
 to emotions likely to prevent your coming dovvn to 
 hreakfast as hlooming and jaunty as you would like 
 next morning ; that is, if you are a nice young man, 
 a gay darling of the dear creatures of this life. From 
 this imaginative distance your gaze is legitimate, and 
 your fluttering emotions may laugh at susceptibility's 
 warnings, and take their fill without any fear of 
 grim love surprising you in the act. 
 
 It is always rather interesting, too, to watch the 
 play of anybody's features when they are perfectly 
 unconscious of observation, and allow every ripple of 
 thought to find expression on the surface. There is 
 a certain wistful longing look tinging the abstraction 
 of Nora's dark eyes, and the long lashes droop with 
 the softest dreamy melancholy over a depth of silent 
 love which Lady Eleanor and her leading article on
 
 120 TEKENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 sentimental grievances have no conception of at all. 
 Slie is much too occu^oiecl in mentally execrating the 
 Liberalism of The Times to take any notice of her 
 gi'anddaughter, even if she had eyes at the hack of 
 her head — which she had not — and could see the 
 tea-table behind her. So Nora allowed her thoughts 
 free scope, and gives us a beautiful embodiment of 
 love and resignation, even more calculated to fire a 
 painter's soul than the same figure on horseback 
 with flushed cheek and sparkling eye and all the 
 spirit of her race flashing out in look and gesture, 
 or the same figure again arrayed in ceremonial state, 
 bringing all her beauty, dignity, and grace to pay a 
 sweeping homage to her sovereign. No wonder her 
 father was proud of her, and no wonder that Lady 
 Eleanor had no objection to become a chaperone 
 again in her old age, and sit through nightly crowds 
 to see the admiring looks which followed her charge 
 from every side. Her house in London became the 
 constant resort of many rising politicians of her own 
 side, who liked to listen to the opinions of a really 
 clever woman ; and Lady Eleanor, they said, really 
 was a clever woman. A woman's intellect was so
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 121 
 
 quick and suggestive, and it was so amusing to see 
 tlie enthusiasm with w^iich ladies who took up 
 politics, advocated the cause of their party, and 
 abused the other side. 
 
 Lord Shirley was naturally the most intimate 
 of these visitors, and was there a good deal. In 
 fact — but here he comes — Nora has heard the handle 
 of the door in the further room rattle, and arouses 
 her suspended energies with a start, as her father's 
 voice breaks through the opening door, and the two 
 gentlemen's steps advance behind the separating 
 curtain. By the time they have come into view 
 she is quite busy pouring out tea, and greets her 
 father with the accustomed welcoming smile, as if 
 she had only been thinking about his coming for 
 some minutes past. 
 
 It has been said that a woman never looks so 
 vrell as when she is making tea : with the proviso 
 that she be making good tea ; perhaps so — Shirley 
 certainly thought so. As the curtain lifted and dis- 
 closed the vision, as Marguerite and her spinning- 
 wheel appeared to Faust, he felt, for the second 
 time, that strange thrilling feeling which had come
 
 122 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 over him when they met that evemng; and when 
 Nora asked him, while arranging some wilful cup, 
 whether he would have any tea, and he approached 
 the tahle through that atmosphere of mutual con- 
 sciousness which was calling out a Hush upon her 
 face too, he felt really very odd indeed, as if he was 
 under the influence of some kind of spell which 
 deprived him of his proper self, and merged it in a 
 vague delicious dream of heauty and, I suppose, love. 
 For a moment or two he was unconscious of the 
 existence of other humanity in the room ; there 
 was nothing hut a sense of heauty about him, and 
 prosaic speech was impossible, until a clear sweet 
 voice rang through his dream and asked him if he 
 liked sugar in his tea. 
 
 ''Quite — very much — thanks!" he answered, 
 waking up again and tumbling over a stool to take 
 the cup which Nora held out, with just the slightest 
 tremble in her hand, rising, at the same time, with 
 her father's in the other. 
 
 Should he take that for her ? 
 
 " Thanks ! " she said, with a studied gaiety of 
 manner ; " papa always likes me to take him his cup
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 123 
 
 of tea myself/' and she swept away without affordiDg 
 further space for forced civilities on either side. 
 
 Her father detained her by him, engaging her 
 subdued attention with whatever nonsense never- 
 failing spirits might suggest, and Lady Eleanor 
 attempted to interest Shirley in her indignation 
 against The Times. But it was evident that the air 
 was charged with electricity, and his interest pro- 
 portionately affected. His answers were absent, he 
 plaj'Cd with his spoon, acquiesced when he ought to 
 have dissented, corrected himself and became con- 
 fused, showed almost a monosyllabic incivility some- 
 times, and, as Lady Eleanor plainly perceived, 
 thought her just at that moment a real bore. Still 
 she thought it greater kindness to make a show of 
 conversation, and chatted on with a most accom- 
 plished and unobservant equanimity until, to the 
 relief of all parties concerned, Alan discovered that 
 it was a lovely night, and suggested that they should 
 go out into the garden. 
 
 Lady Eleanor remained behind, and the other 
 three emerged from the open window, and strolled 
 down on to the terrace into the soft moonlight,
 
 124 TEKENCE MCGO^yAX, 
 
 which was glistening on the shining leaves of the 
 shruhs, and flooding all the earth with a deep 
 silver calm ; the woods contrasting darkly with the 
 sheen upon the glancing waters, and the mountain 
 outlines majestically looming to the clear blue starry 
 depths beyond. Not a leaf was stirring; every 
 wandering air had breathed itself away into the night, 
 and nature seemed suspended under the magic 
 influence of that coldly shining moon above. The 
 only sounds which broke upon the solemn stillness 
 were the ceaseless murmur of the river-fall, or the 
 fitful baj^ing of some far-off dog ; and so serene and 
 pure and bright a world it seemed, that earthly 
 thoughts appeared to merge unconsciously into a 
 more than earthly dream of loveliness and light. 
 
 Such scenes of gentle spotless beauty always had 
 a great influence upon Alan Rochfort's Irish nature, 
 and would subdue altogether his surface gaiety, and 
 rouse from the inner deeps soft thoughts and tender 
 memories which would draw away his soul beyond 
 the sky, and fill it anew with that dead passion of 
 his later life, which never yet had died within his 
 heart.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 125 
 
 Nora knew well where his thoughts had wandered 
 to, as, after some moments' silence, he put his arm 
 round her tenderly, without speaking, and when she 
 looked up into his face with that deep sympathizing 
 love of hers, she could see that the moonlight was 
 glistening upon a silent tear. 
 
 None of the three seemed disposed to break the 
 silence. Their thoughts were too preoccupied; too 
 sadly sweet, perhaps, for more than occasional con- 
 cessions to the conventional expectations of earthly 
 companionship, and it is impossible to say how long 
 they might have remained in this delightful dreamy 
 absence, had their attention not been very soon 
 recalled by the sound of footsteps on the gravel walk. 
 It was a servant come to inform his master that tv;o 
 constables desired to see him at once, if convenient. 
 
 " At this time of night ! " he exclaimed ; " why, 
 what is the matter ? did they say ? " 
 
 They had merely said that their business was 
 important; and Alan accordingly moved off, saying 
 that he should be back directly, and leaving the 
 other two to the vague speculations incident to the 
 announcement of such a visit at such an hour. For
 
 126 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 a moment a certain undefined apprehension engaged 
 tlieir thoughts ; but as Alan disappeared through the 
 yellow-lighted window, which contrasted so artificially 
 with the pure moonlight upon the walls around, 
 Nora felt, and Shirley felt that they had been left 
 alone together, and a sudden sense of awkwardness 
 took the place of former feelings. For a moment 
 Nora thought of following her father, and Shirley 
 seemed to have divined the half intention, for he 
 endeavoured to reassure her by saying that he sup- 
 posed there had been a fight somewhere. So Nora 
 remained ; and, after a few moments' pause, Shirley 
 said, with a constrained quietness of manner, without 
 looking up from the ground, 
 
 " Dare I hope that you may have changed your 
 mind since we last met?" 
 
 *'No, Lord Shirle}', you must not hope," she 
 replied, in the same quiet tone, and there was another 
 pause. The murmur of the fall came more distinct, 
 the stillness deepened, and the melancholy beauty 
 of the night seemed more intensely clear. 
 
 "It's hard," ho said at length, repressing the 
 passion that burned to find an utterance. "At least
 
 THE IKISH TENANT. 127 
 
 you'd pity me, if you could realize all that sentence 
 means to me. Men don't love at five-and-tliirty 
 with the butterfly constancy of boys. The love I 
 offer you becomes a poison to my life when you 
 refuse it." 
 
 " But must I always plead in vain ? " he broke 
 forth, no longer able to control his emotion. " Am 
 I to have no hope ? Is my life always to be the 
 wretched blank it has been for the last two months ? 
 What interest can I take in anything ? Do you think 
 I care about winning this election? about success 
 in anything? about existence even, when jou deny 
 me the only interest that now makes life worth 
 having ? It's weak and foolish, if you like, but 
 believe me, since that day you told me that it 
 couldn't be, I seem to have had no longer any purpose 
 in life ; all my energies have become deadened, and 
 I feel as if any hope or ambition I might have 
 had of doing any good in the world had been nipped 
 in the bud by the depression j^our indifference has 
 brought upon me." 
 
 *' Indifference ! no," exclaimed Nora, whose pale 
 face betrayed the struggling emotion with which she
 
 128 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 liacl listened to liis earnest appeal. '' You, Lord 
 Shirley, would pity mc if you could know wliat it 
 costs me to refuse your generous love, and to oppose 
 it w4tli a coldness which, heaven knows, I am far from 
 feeling towards you." 
 
 " Then why, — why continue to torture me, and 
 worse than that, yourself, by still denying me your 
 love ? You are not indifferent to me — perhaps, 
 though I dare scarcely hope so much, you love me, 
 Nora ? Then why, dearest, must we be always sepa- 
 rated ? You never could insist upon this if you really 
 loved me." 
 
 ''I do love you, I do indeed, more than all 
 the w^orld, except — and him alone excepted — my 
 father. I never could leave him," she continued, 
 her hands clasped, and her fine features lit up 
 with a glorious spirit of self-denying love. "I 
 hoped — no, I didn't hope — but I thought you might 
 have forgotten me, and tried no further to shake my 
 resolution, if I did injustice to my love and forced 
 myself to show indifference instead of what I really 
 felt. You have drawn a confession from me, and 
 it's a relief; but further I cannot go. I grieve, — you
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 129 
 
 don't know how I grieve — to say so ; but neither do 
 you know the loneliness of my poor father's heart 
 since Gerald's death. I'm all he has to care for 
 now, and he does care for me, and would miss me 
 more than I can say, though he never would admit 
 it. I am his only companion : you wouldn't have 
 me gratify my selfish love and leave him all alone 
 in this dreary place. Even this moment he was 
 thinking of that poor boy, with the same old longing 
 affection that he feels as freshly now as if it was 
 only yesterday he lost him ; and I couldn't — I 
 couldn't leave him to bear his sorrow alone. You 
 don't know what a father he has been to me, how 
 unvaryingly kind, how eager to make my life as per- 
 fectly happy as it was in his power ; and love and duty 
 both oblige me to be cruel to myself and you. I don't 
 underrate your right to consideration, I don't in- 
 deed," the poor girl continued, struggling between 
 love and duty, and the pain of giving pain ; " and I 
 tried to make you think that I alone was the obstacle 
 to your happiness, that you might hate me for my 
 coldness if you liked, but not grudge me to my father. 
 But now that I have been obliged to tell you all, 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 TERENCE MCGOWAN/ 
 
 let me think that you appreciate m}^ motives, and 
 credit me with all the distress I feel at giving you so 
 much pain. If ever — but no — tell me that you think 
 I'm right ! " 
 
 The bright tears were sparkling on her long dark 
 lashes as she turned an imploring look upon him, 
 full of impassioned love and distress and heroism, 
 leaning her weakness upon his strength with such a 
 trusting confidence in his generosity, such a sweet 
 dependence upon his verdict, that it would have been 
 impossible to add to her distress by refusal, however 
 hard to acquiesce in the doom of his own engrossing 
 passion. 
 
 " What can I say ? " he exclaimed, struggling 
 with the emotions he was asked to renounce ; "I 
 never knew before how hard it was to be unselfish. 
 It's cruel to ask me to sign my own death-warrant ; 
 and yet if you were not the noble girl you are, you 
 never would have asked it." 
 
 ** I know, I feel that it's cruel ; but you do think I 
 owe it to him ? You don't think that I'm unreasonable, 
 that I have another thought to keep me from you ? " 
 " Indeed I don't. But to give you back your
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 131 
 
 love in tlie first moment of possession, — oh ! Nora, 
 clearest, it's very very hard ! He has, I know, a better 
 claim than mine ; how much better the distance 
 which it takes you from my hope too plainly tells 
 me. My love, at least, you never will expect me 
 to give up ; it will be like melancholy music 
 to my thoughts henceforth ; but if it will save you 
 one moment's pain, forget that I ever wished to 
 separate you. It's a cheerless prospect, a long, long 
 future without you, Nora; but it's no man's part 
 not to bear with even such a disappointment, and 
 you shall not suffer additional misery from the 
 thought of mine. Yet stay ; let me have one hope. 
 /If ever,' — you began just now — go on, dearest, and 
 tell me that, if ever you should be free from your 
 present noble sense of duty — if God should take 
 him from you before my love is buried in my grave, 
 then you will be mine, all mine, for ever after ? " 
 Her voice was full of emotion, and the tears, 
 That tear most sacred, shed for others' pain, 
 
 trembling down her cheek, as she answered pas- 
 sionately, — 
 
 ^'Iwill— I will-forever."
 
 132 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 There was silence then ; and at the moment, 
 with a strange coincidence of sympathy, there rose 
 from afar upon the night the sweet plaintive sound 
 of one of Ireland's love melodies. Clear and thrill- 
 ing above the murmur of the waters, it rose and 
 fell for awhile with a wild, lingering melancholy 
 cadence ; then growing gradually fainter and more 
 faint, died softly into distance among the moonlit 
 windings of the river glades, and all once more 
 was calmly, coldly, beautifully still.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 133 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FnoM her chair within, Lady Eleanor had looked out 
 from time to time upon the terrace, and watched the 
 two figures standing in the moonlight, had half 
 caught the sound of impassioned tones, and calmly 
 wondered what the result would be. 
 
 "I'm convinced she likes him," the old lady 
 mentally observed, " yet why refuse him ? But girls 
 never know their own minds : they throw away oppor- 
 tunities that never come back again, and won't take 
 advice, and the upshot of it will be that Alan, going 
 on in the careless way he is here, will have to sell the 
 place, and I shall be saddled with her for life : not 
 but what I should be very content to have her with 
 me always, to take care of me when I get old — we 
 must all grow old, and I think my head is not as
 
 134 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 clear as it used to be. She is very like what 
 I was mj^self at that age : the Eochforts and Glen- 
 cores were always very like. How angry my poor 
 mother used to be, to be sure, when I sent all her 
 best iiartis to the right about, one after another. I 
 said I should marry Gerald Eochfort, and I did — 
 such a handsome fine fellow as he was in those days. 
 Alan, with all his faults, is his very image." 
 
 There was a moisture in Lady Eleanor's eyes, 
 tempering the triumphant smile which the tenor of 
 her thoughts evoked, and she fell into a train of 
 early memories which carried her far away from the 
 two figures who had suggested them ; and they had 
 almost reached the window again before she was 
 aware that they had left their original position. 
 
 Silently they entered, and as her ladyship looked 
 anxiously from one to the other, no happy lovers' 
 looks met her view, and she was puzzled. 
 
 *' Where is papa?" asked Nora at once, on 
 seeing that he was not in the room. 
 
 " He said he should join us again," said 
 Shirley; "but he didn't. Has anything happened? 
 What did those constables come for ? "
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 135 
 
 Lady Eleanor temporarily postponed the further 
 analysis of the present situation, and informed them, 
 without any extraordinary emotion, that he had gone 
 to take down the deposition of a man who had been 
 badly beaten by some person or persons unknown, 
 and left half dead by the roadside, and who was at 
 that moment lying at the lodge. He had been gone 
 nearly half-an-hour. 
 
 Nora's mind filled at once with vague apprehensions 
 for her father, and her imagination quickly conjured 
 up for her dark crouching forms in shady corners 
 of the road, and stained the glimmering lanes with 
 blood, and ran through every imaginable accompani- 
 ment of horror in a most unpleasantly vivid and 
 uncalled-for manner. To think such savage work 
 could be abroad on such a night, that human hate 
 as well as human love could set its passion-mark 
 upon a scene so pure ! 
 
 " Why did he not come and say that he was 
 going?" she asked, impulsively, with an expression of 
 mingled fear and horror. Her grandmother's calm in- 
 difference astonished, almost disgusted her. For, even 
 in Ireland, where murder is not now a punish-
 
 136 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 able crime, and therefore pretty common, it is a 
 startling thing to hear of a man being beaten to 
 death almost within call of you, on a spot which 
 you are passing by every other day. But Lady 
 Eleanor was a strong-minded woman ; she may 
 have just started, perhaps, internally, when Alan 
 came to say that he had to go to the lodge, and 
 what for; but these things were nothing unusual, 
 and there w^as no particular cause for agitation 
 because it happened to be a little nearer this time ; 
 and so she counselled him to let those two on the 
 terrace alone, and go away without frightening Nora : 
 she would tell them when they came in where he 
 had gone. 
 
 " He thought it was no use frightening jou, my 
 dear," she said, in answer to Nora's question. " I 
 daresay it may turn out nothing very bad after all. 
 They generally exaggerate these things." 
 
 " Now, don't go and worry yourself into a fit," 
 she continued, with some impatience, observing 
 her restless anxiety. " Your father cannot pos- 
 sibly come to any harm." 
 
 " But who was the man ? What class of man ? "
 
 THE IRISPI TENANT. 137 
 
 asked Shirley. "Don't they know anything about 
 him?" 
 
 It was a pedlar, Lady Eleanor believed, or 
 some such man ; but Alan had been rather 
 mysterious about it, and so flurried that she had 
 heard no particulars. 
 
 "A pedlar ? " repeated Shirley, musing. " What 
 object could any one have in beating a pedlar ? It 
 couldn't be to rob him. Whatever else we do in 
 Ireland, we don't murder a man for his money." 
 
 " Revenge, I suppose," said Lady Eleanor ; 
 ''the usual motive. Isn't it a strange thing to 
 find such savage cruelty mixed up with so much 
 natural tenderness and refinement ? Yet I don't 
 believe the Irishman is naturally cruel. I don't 
 think, when his passions are not roused, that he 
 likes cruelty for cruelty's sake. We never have 
 the sort of lingering, deliberate murders that you 
 read of every day in England. In this country they 
 all come from quick passion ; or else they are in 
 defence of some rooted principle which they believe 
 to be a sacred one, justifying any means which may 
 be required to enforce it. If their priests would
 
 138 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 instil into them a little more love of law and regard 
 for human life, instead of fostering their hatred of 
 Protestant authority, and almost justifying them 
 when they take the law into their own hands, we 
 should have a very different state of things. The 
 old hedge schoolmasters couldn't have been worse 
 teachers of morality than the Roman Catholic 
 priesthood in Ireland." 
 
 "As far as general morality goes, do you think 
 they are to be found fault with ? It is only when 
 their interests, I think, or their church, or their 
 anti-Protestant prejudices are concerned, that they 
 are so lax." 
 
 " But, bless my soul, don't these interests enter 
 into all their life and teaching ? If a man is allowed 
 to understand that under certain circumstances cer- 
 tain offences are venial, he will soon come to justify 
 them to himself under all circumstances." 
 
 " No," continued Lady Eleanor. "' I believe the 
 teaching of the Irish priesthood is vicious to a degree; 
 and yet they actually seem to think it possible that 
 the English Government will hand over the Roman 
 Catholic population entirely to their training, to be
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 139 
 
 bred up in all tlieir hatred of Protestant government, 
 and to be educated from books like this." 
 
 As she spoke, Lady Eleanor took up a cheap 
 History of the Protestant Pieformation, which lay 
 upon the table by her side, and picked out here and 
 there passages of so-called history, and estimates of 
 royal and political characters, most flagrantly at 
 variance with accepted truth — deliberately perverted, 
 she said, to suit the ends of Roman Catholic educa- 
 tion, and to fill the minds of Eoman Catholic children 
 with all sorts of erroneous notions calculated to 
 embitter them against the English Government when 
 they grew up. " If any Cabinet," she said, '' should 
 ever consent to denominational education in Ireland, 
 amongst either the upper or the lower classes, we 
 may bid good-by for ever to any prospect of peace 
 or contentment in this country." 
 
 Her ladyship seemed to have forgotten all about 
 the late subject of startling interest, and would have 
 gone on chatting away as happily and unconcernedly 
 as possible, if Shirley had not gradually lapsed into 
 a preoccupied listener again. Nora, he saw, was 
 anxious; and when the first disagreeable sensation
 
 140 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 caused by the intelligence of a possible murder in 
 such very close proximity bad passed away, bis 
 tbougbts flew back to that bitter-sweet balf-bour 
 they bad passed outside ; and Lady Eleanor's views 
 upon Komanism and education became inexpressibly 
 uninteresting. Lady Eleanor berself, after a time, 
 reverted to the same period, and wondered what 
 could have passed to bring them in looking so 
 reserved and sad and silent. 
 
 Still Alan did not return ; and as the minutes 
 flew by, Nora's imagination began to supply such an 
 infinite and pleasing variety of fates for ber choice, 
 all wrapped in a certain undefined and shadowy, and, 
 therefore, more engaging form, that Lady Eleanor 
 rose at last, in her undeniable manner, and said that 
 it was no use sitting up for him, they had better go 
 to bed. 
 
 Nora was willing to go upstairs ; but as to going 
 to bed before she knew that her father had returned 
 in safety, that was quite out of the question ; and 
 she sat at her bedroom window, looking out upon 
 the broad moonlight and the dark beech avenue, 
 watching for his figure to emerge to set her fears
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 141 
 
 at rest ; sliudclering from time to time at the thought 
 of what lay beyond, and putting questions to her 
 old nurse who was crossing herself with pious 
 superstition, or gliding off unconsciously for a 
 moment to touch again the chord of love which had 
 thrilled that night with such a deep and passionate 
 vibration. 
 
 Shirley, too, was quite unconscious of the passing 
 time as he sat in the drawing-room, awaiting Alan's 
 return. It may have occurred to him to go down 
 and join him, and give any assistance if required ; 
 but without being of a particularly timorous nature, 
 he may also have preferred to avoid a lonely walk 
 at midnight under glooming avenues, with murder 
 whispering in every rustle of a leaf, and peopling 
 all the shade with grim and hideous possibilities. 
 Perhaps he occasionally looked round in obedience 
 to some momentary thought, and was almost dis- 
 appointed to find no ruffian with blackened face 
 standing with a bludgeon in his hand behind his 
 chair, or looking in upon him through the open 
 window. There was a creepy feel about the hour, 
 and the silence, and the loneliness of the moonlight ;
 
 142 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 and, remonstrating with himself, he got up at last 
 and shut the window and pulled down the blind. 
 He had scarcely done so and returned to his chair, 
 when he heard steps approaching outside, and, a 
 moment after, the moonlight cast a man's shadow 
 across the panes : the steps ceased, and, for an 
 instant, there was a pause, then a tapping : and 
 a very disagreeable feeling, indeed, took possession 
 of him, as he sat upright in a strained position, 
 with nerves strung up to an indefinite pitch of 
 imaginative expectanc}^ The tension, however, was 
 of short duration, for Eochfort's voice reassured him 
 at once, and made him angry with himself for allow- 
 ing his imagination to make such a fool of him. 
 " Why startle a fellow in this way, Alan ? " he said, 
 as he opened the window to let him in. ''I didn't 
 know who you mightn't be. If I'd had a pistol, I 
 should probably have done for you." 
 
 " Lucky enough, then, that Nora doesn't keep 
 one among her dramng-room ornaments. I thought 
 I should get in more quietly this way, but I didn't 
 bargain for being made potted meat of, so I owe 
 you one for letting me off."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 143 
 
 "Well, this isn't altogether as bad a job as I 
 expected," he continued. "I suppose her ladyship 
 told you all about it ? " 
 
 " She said a pedlar, or some such man, had 
 been nearly murdered on the roadside." 
 
 " They haven't done for him this time, I think. 
 I wonder if all the servants are in bed" (ringing). 
 *'I must just let Nora know that I've come back. 
 I saw a light in her window as I came along, and I 
 know the poor child will be sitting up, thinking I'm 
 smashed or shot or strangled, if I don't send up to 
 her." 
 
 " No, they haven't quite done for him ; but 
 they've given him a pretty tight licking, and I'll go 
 bail his own mother wouldn't find it easy to recognize 
 him with his face in its present state." 
 
 The servant entered, and received his instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 "Have you any idea who he was?" asked 
 Shirley. 
 
 " None ; and it's a curious business altogether. 
 The man had a black wig over his own red hair, 
 and a pair of black whiskers, too, that he never
 
 144 TERENCE :\ic GOWAN, 
 
 grew himself. His pack was lying beside liim, un- 
 toucliecl ; and I'm hanged if I know what to make 
 of it. He was quite conscious when I got down 
 there, and said he had been set upon by three men 
 who jumped up at him out of the ditch, and struck 
 him down before he had time to defend himself, or 
 make out wdio they were ; but I'm pretty certain, 
 from the way he said it, that he knows right well 
 who they were, and won't tell, for some good reason 
 best known to himself. He may be more communi- 
 cative in the morning. I sent oif at once to Ballyduff 
 for the doctor of these parts, and they brought back 
 word that he was away from home. Barring the 
 head — and they stand a deal of hard knocks, these 
 fellows — I don't think he's badly hurt ; except he has 
 a few ribs broken, and they'll keep until they can get 
 old Fludyer out from Kilmorris. I left a constable 
 to look after him and keep the old woman company, 
 and gave him a strong dose of the real old Irish 
 native, which brought him round like a top." 
 
 *' Have the constables any clue to the men who 
 did it ? " 
 
 '' Two of them set off in chase at once after two.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 145 
 
 fellows they had met rollicking home with sticks in 
 their hands a short time before. By the same token 
 one of them was the yomigest of those two boys we 
 stopped to speak to this evening, Larry Mc Gowan by 
 name : he's always in some row, that same gentleman, 
 and doesn't do a stroke of work from one year's end 
 to the other. However, I'm not going to condemn 
 the boy without a hearing ; and having a stick in his 
 hand is no proof that he had been using it : a man's 
 not a pig because he was born in a pig- sty, as Whately 
 said of some fellow who wanted to make out he was 
 an Irishman because he was born in the country." 
 
 " And a man doesn't qualify as a murderer from 
 merely being found with an implement of murder 
 in his hand," added Shirley : " no, certainly not ; 
 but what could his object have been, supposing him 
 to be one of them ? " 
 
 '' Oh, heaven knows ! any slight cause has got a 
 man licked within an inch of his life before now, 
 and will again I dare say often enough : we shall 
 hear more about it to-morrow, I suj)pose. And now 
 what do you say to bed? It's getting on into the 
 small hours." 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 TEEEXCE iic GO WAX, 
 
 Candles were lighted in the hall, and they parted 
 at the top of the staircase to their respective rooms, 
 and to whatever mixed dreams the incidents of the 
 night might suggest.
 
 THE IKISH TENANT. 147 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The rest of the party were at breakfast next morn- 
 ing when Alan returned from an early walk to the 
 lodge, and it was evident at once from his expression 
 when he entered that something unusual had 
 occurred. '' Well, if this doesn't beat all the cock- 
 fighting I ever came across," he said, "my name's 
 not Alan Rochfort, at your service. I leave a man at 
 one o'clock in the morning smashed into a jelly, not 
 fit to move hand or foot, regularly chawed up, as the 
 Yankees say, more like a bit of pulp than anything 
 else, and at daybreak there's not a trace of him to 
 be found about the house. What do you say to that 
 Lady Eleanor ? Constable sleeping in the house — 
 old woman sleeping in the house — and both taking 
 their affidavit that they never heard a move in the
 
 148 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 night at all. You'll have to go and prescribe for old 
 Biddy, Nora, after breakfast ; she's in such a mortal 
 fright she can hardly speak — all the saints in the 
 calendar wouldn't persuade her that she hasn't had a 
 visit from his Satanic majesty himself." 
 
 Breakfast was of course suspended while Alan 
 unfolded his strange tale. Lady Eleanor put down 
 again the morsel of dry toast which she was raising 
 to her lips when he began, Nora's hand remained 
 grasping the handle of the tea-pot, while Shirley 
 gave up his knife and fork altogether, and lay back 
 in his chair in mute perplexity. 
 
 ''But how very strange." "Papa!" "Well, 
 that is an odd thing," broke from his audience, as he 
 paused to give proper effect to the recital. 
 
 " It's a fact; account for it as you please. Come, 
 Nora, my darling, let me have some tea." 
 
 The tea-pot resumed its ministering functions, 
 Lady Eleanor's toast was reprieved no longer, but 
 partook of the general reanimation and disappeared 
 decisively. Shirley got up, and thoughtfully re- 
 moved the backbone of his late trout; and while 
 cutting off a grouse wing, matured the opinion which
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 149 
 
 he subsequently expressecl^viz., that rather than 
 inform against the others or betray his identity, 
 the man must have mustered up his strength to 
 creep away while the other two were asleep. 
 
 "A man beaten and bruised as he was! " ex- 
 claimed Kochfort. "I don't believe it could be 
 possible." 
 
 " How else can you account for it ? " 
 
 "I don't account for it." 
 
 '' They have immense toughness and pluck, you 
 know, some of these men, and take an amount of 
 knocking about that would kill a dozen ordinary 
 mortals. And if he was disguised as you say, he had 
 some very good reason, probably, for wishing to avoid 
 recognition. Had none of the constables any notion 
 wdio he was ?" 
 
 "Not a bit; but the man was so cut and 
 bruised about the face, no one could have recognized 
 him." 
 
 "I expect we shall find you are right. Lord 
 Shirley," said Lady Eleanor. " They'll do anything 
 to avoid giving information against each other, and 
 I'll be bound he's hiding now not very far off."
 
 150 . TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 " That reminds me," said Alan, '' the whiskey 
 hottle was gone; and the okl gentleman, if it had 
 been him that took him away, would hardly have 
 wanted stuff to keep him warm on the way back : he 
 might, though, have found the air up here chilly after 
 w^hat he had been accustomed to." 
 
 " Did they catch the two fellows they went 
 after ? " asked Shirley. 
 
 '^ I haven't heard. But if there's no prosecutor 
 forthcoming, it won't be much good if they have. 
 I should very much like to know who the fellow was, 
 and what he was up to." 
 
 The same wish was shared by the others, with 
 about an equal prospect of its ultimate satisfaction, 
 and during the remainder of the meal the subject 
 afforded an unimpeded exercising ground for every 
 kind of speculation. 
 
 ''Shall you have him searched for?" asked 
 Shirley. 
 
 " I don't see the necessity. If he chooses 
 to take his licking and say nothing about it, you can't 
 make him identify the parties. If he likes to make 
 away out of the country' with what he's got, I'm sure
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 151 
 
 he's welcome to it. We shall not grudge him the 
 quiet possession of his sore bones." 
 
 ''But a man should be forced to prosecute in a 
 case of that kind," said Lady Eleanor, " in the 
 interests of the public." 
 
 "Well, I'll send a note to Hillier, and let him 
 take it up if he likes." 
 
 '' Captain Hillier ! — bah ! — you might as well 
 send Nora's nurse to give directions," said her lady- 
 ship, with an expression of the supremest contempt 
 for the individual in question — the stipendiary magis- 
 trate of the district, and a remarkably incompetent 
 Roman Catholic, whose appointment had excited her 
 extremest ire. To have an old woman like him, with 
 no one qualification for the post, sent down into a 
 wild district like that round Geraldscourt, was too 
 much for her Protestant sympathies. Such a flagrant 
 job had never before been perpetrated even in Dublin 
 Castle; and altogether, now that the subject was 
 brought so pointedly under her notice, it was a 
 monstrous thing that stipendiary magistrates should 
 be appointed as they were in Ireland, without the 
 slightest consideration of their fitness for the post.
 
 152 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 very often without knowledge of any kind wliatever, 
 and always on the mere interested representation of 
 political godfathers, whose adherence required to be 
 secured by sops of this kind to their proteges at the 
 expense of the country. For her part, she would 
 have every one of them pass an examination upon 
 entrance : the Conservatives, perhaps, might have 
 been excused, on the presumption of a natural in- 
 telligence which Mr. Mill has failed to detect. No 
 Conservative, for instance, would have surrendered 
 his reason to the infallibility of his chief, as a Liberal 
 candidate did the other day, when asked if he would 
 support a land bill if introduced. Of course he 
 would, he replied ; had he not told them that he 
 was a Liberal on principle ? no doubt feeling the 
 young principle of the future bill already leaping in 
 his brain. Liberalism is a fine abstract idea, which 
 must not be hampered by legislative details. 
 
 *' Poor Hillier ! " Alan rejoined, with a com- 
 passionate grimace. 
 
 '' They have a capital story," he went on, " about 
 him and old Fludyer, now. You know how Fludyer 
 murders his h's, and how particular Hillier is about
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 153 
 
 the way you spell his name. They were dining 
 together, I think it was, somewhere, and Fludyer was 
 telling some story in which Hillier figured, always 
 calling him 'Illier, of course. 
 
 '' ' iJillier — iJillier, for heaven's sake,' says the 
 other once or twice ; and Fludyer took it good- 
 naturedly enough at first, but he got tired of being 
 pulled up at last, and just turned short round upon 
 him, and told him ' if liH, hi, JiL, hL, hi, //E, hU 
 don't spell 'Illier, I'm a Dutchman.' " 
 
 " Come, Alan, that's too good to be true," said 
 Lady Eleanor, laughing. 
 
 *' True bill, my dear mother, I assure you." 
 
 *' I don't suppose he'll be much use to us at the 
 election," said Shirley, presently. " A man like him 
 is no use with a mob." 
 
 " I really don't know a magistrate in the county 
 who is fit to take charge of soldiers," said Lady 
 Eleanor. " I'm sure you are not, Alan." 
 
 " Oh ! they'll send us down another stipendiary 
 or two, I suppose. What about Hillier's brother, 
 though ? — the Sir, as they call him." 
 
 '* What, Woodcock Hillier ! " exclaimed Lady
 
 154: TERENCE MC GOAVAX, 
 
 Eleanor. " Why, it would be like holding up a red 
 handkerchief to a bull. The mere fact of his voting 
 on our side as a Eoman Catholic makes it doubtful 
 whether he'll live to go to the poll." 
 
 " Oh, his life is safe enough," said Alan. " They 
 think he's the devil, he has escaped so often already. 
 Did you hear of his coming to the board of guardians 
 at Carrickamore the other day, and telling them 
 that he had lately had several threatening letters, and 
 that he heard some persons were on the look-out to 
 shoot him, but that he could only tell them that they 
 would find him well prepared, and he threw open his 
 coat and showed them a regular armoury of revolvers 
 inside." 
 
 '* Down about there they never go out without 
 revolvers," said Shirley ; " and I believe, at Barnards- 
 town they have had a regular fortification run up over 
 the porch in anticipation of a siege, and had a whole 
 staff at work upon feather-beds." 
 
 " You know I always tell Alan," said Lady 
 Eleanor, that if he doesn't have those laurels cut 
 away from round the house, he'll repent it some day. 
 Our fire would be no use at all with such covert so
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 155 
 
 close : and lie leaves liis guns about in such a reck- 
 less way, I'm surprised these Fenians haven't paid 
 us a visit already." 
 
 *' Never fear, mother; we'll give them a warm 
 reception when they come," said Alan. " There 
 was an amusing mistake made here the other day," 
 he continued to Shirley. " We had a bearded, 
 American-looking fellow, — but you know Daly, Jem 
 Daly ? — well, he was stajdng here, and he took it into 
 his head to walk over to Ballyduff one morning that 
 I had to go off on business ; an hour or two after- 
 wards I happened to be driving in that direction, and 
 came up with the serjeant and a couple of constables 
 going down the road at a double, in hot pursuit of 
 somebody; so I pulled up and asked who it was they 
 Avere after, and the serjeant said they were on the 
 track of a suspicious-looking fellow that had been 
 seen making towards Ballyduff a short time before. 
 I wished them luck, never thinking at all who it 
 might be ; and coming home that way in the evening, 
 fancy my astonishment at finding Jem safely lodged 
 in the barracks till his respectability could be vouched 
 for, — storming, furious, and declaring that I had
 
 156 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 been playing off a joke on him. I never was so 
 nearly choked with laughing in my life, I suppose ; 
 and that didn't soothe him either: hut what else could 
 one do under the circumstances ? I've been think- 
 ing lately," he went on, ^' of going in for a pointed 
 beard, and a long fishing-rod case, or something of 
 the kind, that might suggest pikes you know, and 
 taking a tour round the country to see how many 
 rises one could take out of the police. ^Yhat do you 
 think, Shirley? shall we give them a chance of 
 distinguishing themselves ? Nora, my darling, give 
 me another cup of tea. If I'd known I'd be so dry 
 this morning, as the Irishman said, I'd have taken 
 another drink last night." 
 
 Lady Eleanor appeared to think that the 
 suggested diversion would not be a very dignified 
 one for a gentleman holding her Majesty's com- 
 mission of the peace ; but Alan based his proposition 
 upon public grounds then, and assured her that the 
 only possible motive which could induce him to adopt 
 the course in question would be the laudable desire of 
 finding out whether the police were on the alert as 
 they should be.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 157 
 
 The Fenians were, at all events, Shirley said. 
 Driving home late the other evening, he had dis- 
 tinctly heard the marching and countermarching of a 
 body of men in an adjoining field, and had more than 
 once caught a muffled word of command. 
 
 " What folly it is ! " exclaimed Lady Eleanor. 
 
 ''I believe," rejoined Shirley, "that the Govern- 
 ment know a good deal more than we think about 
 what is going on in the country." 
 
 "Then why don't they act upon it?" retorted 
 Lady Eleanor, " instead of keeping us all in terror 
 of our lives from day to day ? " 
 
 "Well, they do, a little," said Shirley. 
 
 " A little, indeed ! " 
 
 " There was a consignment of arms came to a 
 man in Carrickamore the other day, and the stipen- 
 diary there immediately had a private communication 
 from the Castle acquainting him with the fact, and 
 asking what sort of character the man bore." 
 
 " Oh ! there's no doubt they have means of 
 obtaining information," said Alan. " Three or four 
 years ago there were one or two rascals in the neigh- 
 bourhood that I didn't agree with, and I had a private
 
 158 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 and confidential communication from the Castle re- 
 commending me to be very cautious liow I went 
 about the country. Then there's Montgomery tied 
 by the leg in Dublin now ; the Government tell him 
 that if he goes down into the country they won't 
 answer for his life. Barnard, too, the other clay came 
 down by an earlier train than he was expected, and 
 his attendant policemen were not waiting for him ; 
 and he received a despatch from the Government 
 next day to say that if he did that again they would 
 not be answerable for the consequences." 
 
 ''A pretty state of things, indeed!'.' exclaimed 
 Lady Eleanor. 
 
 ^' You saw the letter Talbot had from the Central 
 Committee in New York I suppose," said Shirley, 
 "telling him to be very careful how he conducted 
 himself from that date ? " 
 
 '' Yes, I saw it ; and saying that Sir John was as 
 good as dead already — a gone coon in fact." 
 
 " And I hear," said Lady Eleanor, ''that poor Lady 
 Hillier has packed off her valuables to the bank, and 
 left him to take care of himself, declaring that nothing 
 would persuade her to stay another day in the country.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 159 
 
 One would have thought she ought to have been pretty 
 familiar with threatening letters by this time." 
 
 *' She has been reading MaxwelVs Rebellion 
 o/'98 lately," said Shirk}', ''and the pictures there 
 of people being thrown from the windows and spitted 
 on pikes have rather shaken her nerves." 
 
 " If there was a regular row Sir John would stand 
 a poor chance," said Eochfort ; " and I don't Imow 
 why exactly : his manner, of course, is against him — 
 but I don't think his property is highly rented." 
 
 *' I believe he's rather a tyrant," said Shirley ; 
 *'and what's worse, an improving tyrant. He ejects 
 directly he finds the second smoke, as they say, and 
 he makes them whitewash their houses, and make 
 roads up to them, and do a great many other things 
 which are very good for them, and which for that 
 reason they don't like." 
 
 " Well, it is a hard thing to be made to do 
 what's good for j^ou," said Alan. " I'm sure I never 
 liked it, did I, mother ? " 
 
 *'No, that 3'ou certainly did not ; and don't now, 
 for that matter, or you'd look after your own 
 interests a little more."
 
 160 
 
 It is a mistake, however, to suppose that in 
 Ireland all improving landlords are unpopular. 
 Shirley, and his father too, as long as he held the 
 reins of his estates, were pre-eminently improving 
 landlords, laid out large sums of money every year 
 on building, draining, road-making, reclaiming, 
 &.C., Sec; had founded an agricultural society at 
 Kilmorris, where the amount subscribed amongst the 
 tenants of each barony for prizes was doubled by the 
 landlord; and where stock of all kinds, butter, 
 needlework, and every sort of country produce were 
 exhibited, and a spirit of emulation fostered among 
 the people. One man alone, Shirley used to boast, 
 had been induced by this annual show to expend 
 loOl. on a bull ; which money would otherwise have 
 been left idle in the bank. Father Maguire, the 
 vicar-general of that district, was the only priest 
 who had opposed them (from a fear that the per- 
 mission of a growth of cordiality between land- 
 lord and tenant would have the effect of lessening 
 his own influence) ; but his misrepresentations 
 and opposition had been disregarded by the large 
 farmers who were more immediately concerned,
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 161 
 
 and who cared more for tlieir own interests than 
 they did for the sentimental animosity which 
 the priest endeavoured to cherish. Lady Mount- 
 stewart, too, had schools, and sold large quantities 
 of the work done there in England, and practically 
 benefited the neighbourhood in many other ways. 
 
 And yet the family were by no means unpopular ; 
 on the contrary, their tenantry testified their appre- 
 ciation of the efforts made to improve them on 
 every possible occasion. The secret of it was that 
 improvements were not carried out with a high- 
 handed disregard of their prejudices. The agent 
 was a gentleman, and a man who had always lived in 
 the country, and understood the people, and knew 
 just how much he could do, and how it was to be 
 done. Their rights were respected, just claims 
 always received fair consideration ; there was no sort 
 of rack-renting ; and, independently of the hereditary 
 attachment to the ^' ould shtock," a personal feeling 
 of attachment was created by the frequent visits of 
 one or other member of the family to different parts 
 of the estate, and the cordial and personal interest 
 which they showed in each individual tenant with 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 162 TERENCE Mc GO WAX, 
 
 whom they came in contact. '' They like you to 
 go about among them, and talk to them," Shirley 
 used to say. ''Irish tenants have a certain feudal 
 feeling towards their landlord, which they expect to 
 find reciprocated. If you pass them by with your 
 head in the air, as if pajdng and receiving rent was 
 the only connection between you, you'll disappoint 
 the attachment they want to feel for you, and chiU 
 them probably into dislike." And you may do wider 
 harm than that even — you may bring the prestige of 
 your class into disrepute among them. Affability 
 and courtesy to inferiors they set down as one of 
 the distinguishing marks of a gentleman, one of the 
 points which entitle him to the respect they jield to 
 his position*as a matter of course. But if these are 
 found wanting, reasoning from their experience, they 
 will go forth among their fellows and decry the 
 necessity as founded upon a fallacy, an erroneous esti- 
 mate of the class generally ; and you will be putting 
 a spoke in the wheel of your neighbours and friends, 
 and, red-hot Tory though you be,, contributing your 
 mite to the hastening of the inevitable democracy of 
 the future.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 1G3 
 
 There were very few corners of liis father's estates 
 which Shirley had not visited since the management 
 had devolved upon his shoulders, and his head was 
 always running upon improvements of one kind or 
 another : plans for barracks, school-houses, markets, 
 fairs, court-houses, &c., for the benefit of the 
 different districts, until the fatal day when love had 
 stole his heart away. All his schemes had seemed 
 flat and dull since then, business and work had no 
 longer their former attractions, his interest in every- 
 thing was a preoccupied and heartless one, and the 
 energy of the man seemed to have sickened even 
 unto death. 
 
 ** What a miserable weak fool I am," he ex- 
 claimed bitterly to himself, as he sat upon the terrace 
 after breakfast, smoking his cigar, while Alan at- 
 tended to his various morning visitors. " What 
 very little strength of mind I must have, not to 
 be able to shake off this incubus that's weisfhiufc 
 me down." 
 
 Love was not life, he told himself; was he going 
 to become one of those empty triflers who found their 
 only books in woman's looks, and dream away
 
 164 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 existence as they did, taking no part in tlie business 
 of the world, thinking that duty was no concern 
 of theirs, and action only made for energetic spirits 
 such as theirs were not. It seemed rather a hard 
 case that all his good intentions and worthy ambition 
 should be clouded over as they were ; and his 
 thoughts assumed a leaden hue in disagreeable con- 
 trast to the brightness in the atmosphere and earth 
 and sky around. 
 
 It was a clear fresh morning, teeming with an 
 exhilarating sense of life. The deep brown of the 
 distant heather stood out against the pale blue sky. 
 Bright pearly white masses of cloud fringed the far 
 horizon. The river flashed and sparlded round the 
 little islet immediately below ; and the rugged peak 
 of Thor rose grandly in the distance above the dark 
 fir-woods, which swept away to the Devil's Bite, as 
 the gap at the end of the glen was called. It was 
 a charming mixture of blue and green, and broTsii 
 and white, of rich swelling wood, and rugged over- 
 topping outline, with a little cottage in the river- 
 bend, in the foreground, completing a picture of 
 joyous natural beauty fit to arouse in any but a
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 165 
 
 love-lorn mind a sympathetic thrill of bright elastic 
 life. 
 
 The swallows dived, and met, and kissed, and 
 skimmed along the ground ubiquitously, and Shirley 
 watched them in their flight, and thought that he 
 should like to be a bird, to skim through the liquid 
 air, without one sorrow and without one care. He 
 envied that long love-twitter of a life, and even the 
 sparkling little wagtails seemed to pass a more 
 enviable existence than his own human one appeared 
 at that moment. They had no disappointments, 
 except indeed when, as he might have observed 
 was sometimes the case, their energies and twisted 
 flutterings were wasted on the pursuit of some elusive 
 gnat. Swallow-lives, too, for that matter, if he had 
 cared to spoil the contrast, were not without their 
 moments of depression ; he must have seen them 
 sometimes on rainy days, moping under dripping 
 eaves; and were there not hovering kestrels in that 
 bird-world, for which he was a candidate, to whom 
 he might soon become an object of desire ? were 
 there not little vulgar boys, too, created by impartial 
 nature for the express purpose of stealing his eggs ?
 
 166 TERENCE Mc GOWAN, 
 
 No, depend upon it, it would be a mistake to be a 
 bird, under existing ornithological conditions ; and 
 as further reflection seems to confirm the platitude 
 that there is a thorn accompanying every rose, how- 
 ever fair at a distance it may seem, we may as well 
 acquiesce Avith a good grace in whatever lot sen ratio 
 dederit seu fors ohjecerit. 
 
 At the present moment, however, the hypothetic 
 case of wagtail vcrsiig humanity is totally irrelevant ; 
 Shirley's being so far an untransmigrated human 
 soul, and a human soul very deeply saturated with a 
 certain poison called love, which had eaten its way 
 into his vitals in such a manner that if the conven- 
 tionalities of modern feeling had not forbidden the 
 indulgence of so much expression, he might, with 
 great propriety, have followed the example of Orpheus, 
 and set the whole landscape to the one sad tune. 
 The murmur of the stream, the rustle of the leaf, the 
 echo in the wood (an Irish echo), the terrace-walks, 
 the flowers in their beds, all spoke of her — and, more 
 unmistakably still, the old w^omen round the corner, 
 who had brought their load of ailments to the usual 
 morning levee.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 167 
 
 How delicious it was to sit unobserved and listen 
 to their praises ! What a flood of unconscious 
 memories came flocking up to create a rapture of 
 emotion at eacli mention of lier name ! But she was 
 not their only theme. Her ladyship also came in for 
 an occasional reverential and whispered encomium ; 
 but there was a good deal of awe mixed with their love 
 for her. Some, too, had come from a distance, and 
 were occupied in acquiring as much information as to 
 the habits of life of '' the quality " as they could in the 
 interval before " the lady" or Miss Nora appeared ; and 
 with a view to so doing, they had extended their sphere 
 of observation to the corner, and cautiously inspected 
 Shirley's person as he sat in unconscious thought 
 within their range. The fact of his presence having 
 been notified to the rest, he was rapidly passed in 
 review by one after another eye, and the conversation 
 was reduced to a subdued whisper. The last one 
 having had the bad luck to attract his notice, an awful 
 silence ensued for a moment or two ; and then an 
 inquiring mind raised itself upon its bare toes, and 
 directed its lens upon the interior of the drawing-room, 
 beneath the window of which the party were collected.
 
 168 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 '' Musha ! Biddy, what's that for at all ? " it said, 
 pointing to an ormolu inkstand on a writing-table 
 close by. 
 
 Biddy, aforesaid, was apparently an old frequenter 
 of the door, and therefore an authority. 
 
 ''Is it that ? " she said, turning round and putting 
 back the shawl from her face. '' It isn't much you 
 know any way, ye poor crathur ! That's a drinkin' 
 cup to be sure." 
 
 ''Ah! now!" exclaimed the other, leaning on 
 the window sill, and gazing in upon the room in 
 mute astonishment. 
 
 "D'ye see the purty bowl there beyant — that'll 
 be for washin' on turns." 
 
 " That I may never sin, Biddy, but that's great 
 state — well, to be sure ! " 
 
 " I'll engage, then, ye never saw the like before." 
 
 " Indeed, no — it's wonderful — the splendhour of 
 them ! " 
 
 " Not a bit less then 'ud contint them ; and it's 
 themselves can afford it rightly." 
 
 " Would the Queen herself be fit to bate them? 
 I suppose not, indeed."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 169 
 
 '' Not a bate ; and Miss Nora, they're talkin', 
 took the brag out of all the whole coort o' them 
 away over in England so she did — last May was a 
 twelvemonth." 
 
 '' Oh ! indeed, I suppose so; for she's a terrible 
 fine 3'oung lady, all out. There's not one'll 
 deny it." 
 
 So they continued, with others who joined in, 
 to discuss the merits and the magnificence of the 
 family, just as those who had never seen the sun 
 might reverence the moon, conceiving of nothing 
 more splendid ; and waiting about patiently in their 
 bare feet, and long blue cloaks, with bare heads, 
 or with check shawls over their white caps, until 
 they could ''get seeing " her ladyship. 
 
 Her ladyship being in the habit of coming over 
 to Geraldscourt every autumn, had kept up her 
 intimacy with the people ; and notwithstanding her 
 imperious manner, had dispensed among them many 
 solid reasons for a gratitude which was more than 
 a grateful anticipation of benefits to come. She was 
 renowned, too, as a doctor, as well as the distributor 
 of blankets and petticoats. There was not one in
 
 170 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 tlie country they said as good as her ; and the pro- 
 fessional practitioner's medicines were often and 
 often brought down for her approval before they 
 ventured to take them. At the Big House, of 
 course, advice was given gratis, and medicine upon 
 the same terms ; and this was a consideration which, 
 independently of much faith, was worth walking a 
 long distance for. The morning levee, therefore, 
 was always largely attended when she was there, and 
 many a one, of course, came down with a poor mouth, 
 as they say, and a great deal of blarney, to save the 
 doctor's fee. Still, however disposed to interested 
 imposture some of them might be, every window 
 and door in the house might be left open, and 
 generally were, and not a thing would ever be missed. 
 A shawl had once been stolen from the hall, and the 
 father of the girl who had taken it brought it back 
 the next day, ready to sink into the ground with 
 shame, and saying that he little thought any girl of 
 his would ever have degraded him in that way. 
 The Irishman is too much of a gentleman to be a 
 thief. Stealing is an art with which he has no 
 sympathy. There is something bold and adventurous
 
 THE IKISII TENA^'T. 171 
 
 about murder, but a peculativc liabit is mean and 
 low; and "a dirty thief" is one of his severest 
 terms of reproach for man or beast ! (1) 
 
 At last Miss Nora appeared, and as she opened 
 wide the window, hands were thrown up, and blessings 
 and welcomes hopped out in every kind of curious 
 costume. Juliet was quite a poor sun to Romeo, 
 compared to what Nora seemed to this motley array 
 of females beneath the windovv^ 
 
 "Well, Mary, did you bring the work?" she 
 began. 
 
 *' Indeed I did, my lady," and from under a 
 secreting shawl _ a modest-lookiug girl produced a 
 bundle of cabin-perfumed strips of sprigging work, 
 v/hich, after a cursory examination, were pronounced 
 very neat and satisfactory, and deposited for payment 
 when the others had had their turn. 
 
 "Well, Biddy, what's the matter with you ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! matter enough, Miss Nora. It's 
 a brother's son o' mine that's livin' in the house with 
 us this while back, took ill with the fever a Monday 
 last, an' I don't know what'll we do at all, with a 
 family of young childer about the house, and him
 
 172 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 Ijin' sick in the midst," and tlie old woman pro- 
 ceeded to shed copious tears of perplexity, while a 
 neighbour woman eked out her tale of woe for her, 
 and said they were expecting that her lad^'ship 
 would give her some medicine that would bring the 
 boy round, &c. &c. 
 
 The case was postponed until the arrival of her 
 ladyship ; and another whose husband had got the 
 deca}', and was believed to be for death, was also 
 told to wait. One wished to have a remedy pre- 
 scribed for pains in her bones ; a second had a 
 daughter with a soreness about the heart ; and a third 
 was afflicted with a very curious malady, — " wind^- 
 stitches, first here then there, then flyin' out at the 
 head ; you might hear the roarin' of them a mile 
 away." 
 
 The attendance was large this morning, and when 
 Lady Eleanor arrived she had to listen to piteous 
 tales of clothes eaten off the hedge by the cow, of 
 cattle taken to the pound for non-payment of rent, of 
 the sole remaining support of the family falling into 
 a bog hole, and the necessity of said family going to 
 the poor-house, unless they could get money to buy
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 173 
 
 another, and wliere would they get money indeed ? 
 of epileptic husbands beating their wives within an 
 inch of their lives, and making the price of a pair of 
 shoes more than ever desirable. One old man, a 
 poor desolate orphan, as he called himself, had 
 got a sketch of the fire, which he was anxious to 
 sliow; and a beggar woman from a village beyond 
 the property shambled up confidentially in her rags, 
 to complain of a drunkenness in her head, — " only 
 for the staff in my hand, and God himself that 
 kep' me up, I'd be fallin' all the day;" the only way 
 she lived at all was by going about among good 
 people, who gave her halfpence and pence, and 
 getting sixpence, or a shilling may be, from a lady ; 
 if she could only get her cup of tay in the morning, 
 she thought that her head wouldn't be so bad. Old 
 Granny Dolan then hobbled up to make sure of the 
 master's interest, through the ladies of the family, 
 against Widow Mc Gra that she had summoned for 
 the next law day for assaulting a grandchild of hers, 
 and beating him about the head, and striving to do 
 nothing only leave him in his blood, and then 
 *' schkaitin' the clauber " (throwing the dirt off the
 
 174 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 road) at herself, when she ventured to remonstrate at 
 such unneighhourly hehaviour. She had heen ohhged 
 to take hhn to the man that mended then* hones to 
 have what httle life was left in him patched up. 
 
 ''Kow, Mrs. Clancy, what do you want?" asked 
 Lady Eleanor, after telling the last applicant that 
 there must he two sides to every story of that kind, 
 and that Mr. Eochfort would prohahly hear them 
 both in due course at petty sessions. "I declare I 
 think the whole country is here to-day." 
 
 " Oh, indeed it's nothin' I'm come to ask from 
 your ladyship, hut just to bring you a small little 
 present of a few young fowls, if you'd think to accept 
 them in return for all the kindness that you showed 
 to the poor boy that's in his grave now — God be 
 merciful to him ! " 
 
 '' The medicine did him no good then ?" 
 
 " Well, indeed, I brought the most part of it 
 down back again, and there it is," handing over a 
 packet of powders and a bottle. 
 
 "But how, in the name of fortune, could you 
 expect him to get well if you didn't give them to him 
 as I desired ? "
 
 THE imSH TENANT. 175 
 
 '' Oil ! well, my lady, I know riglitly that I'd be 
 to do as I was bid. But when I seen the poor fellow 
 was for death, and he wasn't for takin' the medicine 
 at all, and was always cryin' out for a drink o' butter- 
 milk, I hadn't the heart to be goin' agen him, and 
 him to leave us so soon ; it'd be hard enough if he 
 wouldn't get what he asked at that time." 
 
 The tears streamed down her cheeks at the recol- 
 lection of her dying bo}', and her distress was so 
 evident and real, that Lady Eleanor said no more. 
 In a moment, however, her eyes were dried, and she 
 had returned to the object of her journey, uncovering 
 the basket on her arm, and displaying, among other 
 cackling fowls, a young cock that, as she said, "could 
 crow so stoutly that it bates the world." 
 
 The present was accepted under protest, and the 
 old lady was about to seek her medicine-chest, while 
 Nora gave orders about wine and other matters 
 required for their various necessities, when another 
 blue cloak appeared upon the scene, enveloping the 
 person of Mrs. Mc Go wan. 
 
 "Here's this tiresome Sally Mc Gowan again," 
 exclaimed Lady Eleanor, as Nora moved away.
 
 176 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 " Come to beg again, I suppose. I've no patience 
 with the woman ; I shall tell Terence that he ought 
 not to allow it, comfortably off as they are." 
 
 But on this occasion Mrs. Mc Gowan had not 
 come clown to hug herself upon her poverty, and 
 wonder how it was that the likes of them kept out of 
 the workhouse at all. Her son Larry had been 
 arrested on the previous night on the charge of 
 having had a hand in battherin' the brains out of a 
 poor pedlar man by the roadside, and she had hurried 
 down in a state of tearful excitement to catch the 
 master before he started for the mountain, and 
 engage his magisterial interest in the cause of out- 
 raged innocence. 
 
 " The poor boy ! " as she told Lady Eleanor 
 between her tears, " that never went next nor near 
 him, nor wouldn't lay a finger on any man to do him 
 an injury. Sure Terence himself would be down this 
 minute to spake up for him, only for the masther 
 givin' orders last evenin' that he'd be to join him 
 this mornin' at the Holy Well over. Oh ! didn't I 
 know well now that there was trouble in store for us 
 after the sight I got on yesterday ? "
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 177 
 
 For Lady Eleanor's enliglitenment she then pro- 
 ceeded to give a long, true and circumstantial account 
 of the extraordinary apparition which had scared the 
 life out of her on the previous evening, and when her 
 whole story was treated with the utmost derision, she 
 only said, "Ah ! well, it's easy talkin', my lady, but 
 I'd not go through with that again for all the money 
 in Ireland, that's what I wouldn't ; and if I had the 
 book in my hand this minute I'd swear to it, and not 
 be perjurin' my poor soul either. As God's in heaven 
 above us it's entirely the truth I'm tellin', and my 
 poor boy in prison is proof enough of it. I'm always 
 attendin' on my clergy, and would I tell a lie to any 
 person, let alone your ladyship ? I would not." 
 
 With that she allowed her feelings once more to 
 overcome her, and wept an excited tear or two. 
 
 *'Well, I can't say what Mr. Rochfort means to 
 do about him. The man is well enough, at all 
 events, to have taken himself off, and if he doesn't 
 appear I suppose Larry will be set at liberty again. 
 I don't know what cause they may have for 
 suspecting him ; but, of course, there must be some, 
 or he would not have been arrested." 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 " He never left the house, good or bad." 
 " Come, if they met him on the road that's not 
 likely." 
 
 "Not a foot he put outside the door the whole 
 night, and the wife sleepin' beside him can swear to 
 it — not a foot." 
 
 *' Why didn't she come down herself to speak for 
 him ? " 
 
 " Ah ! the poor crathur, how would she get, with 
 not a one but herself to mind the childer, and her 
 in the way she is at the present time ? " 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me she's going to be 
 confined again ? " 
 
 " I do, my lady, indeed." 
 
 " Well, she ought to be ashamed of herself. 
 Upon my word I have no patience with her going on 
 having children in this way." 
 
 *'Ah! sure they're very young," suggested the 
 mother apologetically. 
 
 "Just as if they hadn't now more than they 
 could keep, or nearly keep. Larry's an idle, good- 
 for-nothing fellow, Sally, and he doesn't deserve that 
 anybody should do anything for him, after the way
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 179 
 
 he leaves his wife and children. How do they live 
 at all ? " 
 
 ** Oh ! the dear knjows — miserably enough, 
 indeed ; and I wrought at him oftentimes about the 
 careless w^ays of him, and tould him to his face, 
 ' It's betther for ye,' says I, * leave all to Providence 
 entirely,' I says, ' and make away out of the 
 counthry al-together, and not be takin' the bit out 
 o' the childer's mouths, and seein' them without a 
 stitch to their backs,' I says, ' when you wouldn't do 
 a stroke o' work to save them makin' sport for all 
 the neighbours' boys and girls about the place, with 
 the rags that's on them. It's but little more,' I 
 says, * but black water and the light o' the day that's 
 keepin' them alive this minute.' And so he only 
 joked with me then, and never heed a word of what 
 I'd say — and that's the way of him ; for nothin' '11 do 
 but he must always be gettin' into trouble, and leaving 
 the poor crathurs in the house scarce able to walk for 
 the want of the bit o' food. May be your ladyship 'd 
 be able to help them with a small trifle, in regard of 
 the distress that's on them — for, indeed, the boy's as 
 innocent as the child that was born last night."
 
 180 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 The Oiopressive sense of recent supernatural 
 intercourse, and the calamitous results to which it 
 had led, were not sufficiently powerful to put out the 
 light of Mrs. Mc Gowan's interest, and the present 
 was an opportunity not to he lost. 
 
 Lady Eleanor, however, did not rise to the occa- 
 sion, and told her that Phelim had hehaved shame- 
 fully ahout that bit of land, which never ought to 
 have been cut off his own farm at all. It 
 wasn't possible to keep a family upon such a 
 mere potato garden ; and it would sers^e him very 
 well right if he had to support the whole of them. 
 
 In Sally's opinion they might all make a party 
 to the poor-house together when that day came ; and 
 in her own mind she felt that even if Terence 
 was not a sufficient guarantee against any such 
 eventuality, at all events the big rise which it would 
 cause in the master's poor rates would be a suffi- 
 cient security for their being supported outside. 
 
 "There is Mr. Rochfort himself," said Lady 
 Eleanor, turning away; "you had better go and 
 speak to him, if you have anything to say for 
 Larry."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 181 
 
 Alan, having finished his morning husiness, i.e. 
 having conferred with the pohce Serjeant, given 
 away a good deal of timber to various applicants, 
 signed a summons for a man whose fingers had been 
 half cut off on the previous day with a hook wdiich 
 had been freely used in a fight coming home from 
 a fair, settled one or two squabbles which small 
 tenants had brought to him for arbitration, read a 
 letter for an old man whose son had sent him money 
 from America, written out a character for another 
 about to emigrate, given one or two dispensary 
 tickets to his daughter for penniless paupers, and 
 performed other beneficent and judicial duties of the 
 kind which it is proposed to take out of the landlord's 
 power by rendering his tenants independent of him 
 and careless of his authority — was coming in search 
 of Shirley preparatory to starting for their distant 
 shooting ground, giving a nod or a hearty word to 
 each of the old women he met on his way, and 
 receiving in return most copious and dramatic 
 blessings, (one even going down on her knees to 
 invoke the Deity with the greater fervour, in re- 
 collection of some remission of rent at a moment
 
 182 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 of peculiar need,) and now lie is brought up Ly 
 Sally Mc Gowan's diffident approach. 
 
 "Well, Sally, this is a pretty business, upon my 
 word. If Mr. Larry doesn't take care he'll have to 
 leave the country one of these days. I'm afraid 
 there's no doubt of his having been concerned in 
 last night's work." 
 
 Da capo : tears, protestations, apologies, little 
 white cotton handkerchief rolled into a tight ball, 
 used like a blotting pad. 
 
 " Well, well, I don't want to say he is guilty if 
 he's not. He has gone before Captain Hillier, and I've 
 written him a note ; and if the man isn't found Larry 
 will probably be let out on bail. But you may tell 
 him to take care of himself from this out, for the 
 police have their eye on him, and if he gets off this 
 time he won't again, I'll engage him. There, give 
 that to his wife, I know she's not too well off, poor 
 woman, and tell her to keep him at home a bit 
 more if she can." 
 
 With that he passed upon his way, found 
 Shirley where we left him, and brought back his 
 attention to their shooting projects, which he had
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 183 
 
 entirely forgotten, threw off all cares of business 
 in the anticipation of the more congenial pursuit 
 of grouse shooting, and disappeared into the house 
 with the emphatic assertion that it was a glorious 
 day, and that the birds ought to lie like stones.
 
 184 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 About most Irish places, which have not become 
 thoroughly Anglicized and keeper-ized, and where 
 there still exists a tinge of careless feudal barbarity, 
 there lives and moves and has his being, a certain 
 man in gaiters, tough, good-humoured, well fed, 
 active and young for his age, who has been born and 
 bred upon the estate, and lived with the family in 
 one capacity or another from the day he began to 
 earn his sixpence, up to the present when he walks 
 about with a gun and calls himself " sportsman " to 
 the place. He kills a hawk or magpie if it comes 
 across him ; sets snares for rabbits ; feeds, and thinks 
 he trains, the dogs ; mismanages the beaters at shoot- 
 ing time ; is general referee on the subject of the 
 weather, or any odd job of netting or wiring or
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 185 
 
 paling which requires to be done ; can row a boat, or 
 tie a fly, or tickle a trout ; or in a hunting country 
 fill the coverts on meet days with hypothetic foxes, 
 or break a young horse : he is the man who is sent 
 on confidential errands, who knows every man in the 
 county, who will swear anything in his master's 
 interest, who can tell you the exact spot in the 
 covert where a woodcock will get up, or the par- 
 ticular rock in the river which never fails ; he is 
 the admiration of all the youths of the neighbour- 
 hood, hail fellow well met with all the men, who 
 defer to the versatility and ready wit which has 
 recommended him to more intimate intercourse with 
 their master, and take a respectful interest in his 
 sporting reminiscences ; the maids in the house 
 dally vdth him on their way to the laundry, and find 
 him the best of company when he comes up to the 
 house for his Christmas dinner ; he strolls through 
 life like a sporting gentleman, and dies after seeing 
 out many generations of the family, game to the last, 
 and the oracle of the neighbourhood. 
 
 Such a man about Geraldscourt was Pat Connor, 
 — deficient perhaps in the theoretical knowledge of a
 
 186 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 keeper's art, but not feeling the want of such know- 
 ledge a burden at all ; on the contrary, rather des- 
 pising those who had it, thinking pheasants but a poor 
 kind of game, and quite satisfied with the qualifica- 
 tions he already possessed for providing his master 
 with indifferent sport. A man, moreover, cheerful and 
 acquiescent to a fault. " That ought to be a good 
 day for shooting, Pat." "The best." "Will it 
 rain, Pat?" "Not a drop it'll rain this day." 
 "Will there be shooting, Pat?" "What 'ud ail 
 yez ? arn't they lyin' in it as thick as peas? " — And 
 more to the same tune. This worthy man has his 
 best gaiters on this morning, and stands beside the 
 dog-cart at the door, dog-whip in hand, feeling quite 
 as keenly as any bloated Norfolk brother the dignity 
 of his position ; hitting the dogs on the nose 
 occasionally to keep them down ; waiting to receive 
 gingerly the guns from their owners' hands, and then 
 to jump up behind with the groom, and receive into 
 his conscious heart the admiration of the country 
 people as they drive along the road. 
 
 Rochfort and Shirley come out at last, with their 
 shooting paraphernalia, luncheon is stowed away,
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 187 
 
 Lady Eleanor and Nora come to the door to see 
 them off, last injunctions about the hour of dinner 
 are given, dogs yelp, whip cracks, and away they go 
 into the counterchanging dusk and bright of that 
 stately-pillared beech arcade. 
 
 By daylight, when the first gate was passed, the 
 place had a sorry look indeed. Eoads uncared for, 
 and full of ruts and weeds ; the woods strewn with 
 fallen trees and rotting branches ; the grassland 
 exhausted for want of manure, and full of rushes ; corn 
 choked with weeds ; everything ragged, dilapidated, 
 and untidy, blurring the beauty of the surrounding 
 scenery, in spite of every advantage of clearest atmo- 
 sphere and sunlight. A few labourers, who are 
 working out their rent in breaking stones, or loitering 
 through a day's reaping, or potato-digging on conacre 
 land, rest, of course, to take a long look after the 
 passing dogcart, and then adjourn to a lighted sod of 
 turf hard by, and digest the thoughts which its 
 passage has aroused, or communicate them to each 
 other over their pipes, until the spirit moves them 
 to stroll back casually to their work again. An 
 Irishman working for wages in his own couutry,
 
 183 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 makes it a point of conscience to do as little as he 
 possibly can for the money; though he has it in 
 him to do much better work than any Englishman, 
 from the life and spirit which he puts into it, 
 if freed from the corrupting association of his 
 felloAvs. 
 
 After driving through ferny undulations dotted 
 with deer, and a long wood opening here and there 
 upon lovely views of mountain, glen, or river, the 
 lower lodge was reached, and they emerged upon 
 the high road. 
 
 "Tell me, Pat," said Kochfort, turning round; 
 '' did you hear anything about that poor fellow they 
 beat last night?" 
 
 "Not much indeed, 3'our honour." 
 " Not much ! Did you hear anything ? " 
 " I did, your honour. I heerd them sayin' 
 that a man very like him anyway, by all that's 
 known of his colour, was speakin' to Micky Tom 
 there above, to see would he be willin' to vote 
 agen your honour at the election, if it would be 
 made worth his while." 
 
 " The devil he was ! " exclaimed Rochfort. " Then
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 189 
 
 lie didn't get a bit more than he deserved, Pat — if 
 it's the same fellow." 
 
 " That's what I was thinkin', 3'our honour ; for 
 I'd have sunk the iron 0' my stick in his skull 
 myself, if I'd known of him." 
 
 " That old Eadical rascal might have known he 
 was coming to the wrong shop amongst my tenants. 
 ' It's likely he's been trying sedition among yours 
 too," turning to Shirley. 
 
 "Likely enough. There are one or two that'll 
 vote against me, I know, as it is. I must go over 
 and see some of them." 
 
 "We shall not be very far off your ground 
 to-day," said Rochfort; and Brady's desperate 
 efforts after votes engaged their attention then for 
 some time. 
 
 " I only hope the fellow isn't murdered, that's 
 all, Pat," said Rochfort, presently. " We've had 
 too much of that in this country lately." 
 
 " Well, there has been a great deal killed in the 
 country of late. But sure there must be an odd 
 murder now and again, your honour, to keep them 
 alive," said Pat.
 
 190 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 " I think we could get on without them," said 
 Shirley, joining in the laugh at Pat's Irishism. 
 
 "When a man's for gettin' the upper hand 
 over ye unbeknownst in that way, mj lord, isn't it a 
 hard thing but what he'd get his due ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm all for the licking, but not for the 
 murder." 
 
 " Well, no, indeed — he'd get the greater hard- 
 ship out o' livin', after gettin' the battherin' ; so 
 maybe it's betther leave the life with him." 
 
 Pat Connor evidently suffered from no humani- 
 tarian scruples in his views of practical justice, 
 and at the present moment other thoughts were 
 occupying his mind, which prevented his giving 
 any further attention to the subject. The post- 
 car, with its three -horse load was rattling past, 
 the driver raises his whip, receives a cheery 
 recognition from Kochfort, and passes by, leaving 
 Pat Connor to the admiring gaze of the passengers ; 
 who all, of course, knew that he was Pat Connor, 
 sportsman to Mr. Rochfort, now on his way to 
 superintend the working of his dogs for him. The 
 thought creates a pleasant purring satisfaction, and
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 191 
 
 the impudence of the magpies along the roadside 
 scarcely arouses his sporting instincts then for some 
 distance. Cur dogs run out and bark after him 
 without remonstrance ; and even the girls sprigging 
 at the doors miss the patronizing nod which they 
 are accustomed to from Mr. Connor. 
 
 So they sped along, past stubbles black with 
 crows ; the picturesque little church in its group of 
 trees ; the bleach-green by the river ; the long strips 
 of linen stretched upon the grass ; the laj^ers of flax 
 spread out to dry, and smelling like bad railway 
 porters ; a field strewed with old blackened rafters 
 as top-dressing (for the rain to wash off the soot) ; 
 past donkeys and creels ; miserable-looking geese, 
 which had been plucked in their lifetime, for the 
 sake of the odd shilling their feathers produced ; 
 butter-buyers' carts ; cottages with paneless gothic 
 holes, and heads behind them ; turf stacks ; bogs 
 cut down to stone, and rendered useless for all time ; 
 children in spotty-blue pinafores and corduroy 
 suits swarming out of the national school ; and on 
 across the open moor with its dotted cabins, to 
 the rocky dip, where Terence was to meet tliem.
 
 192 
 
 "What would that one fetch in the fan-, Pat ? " 
 asked Rochfort, pointing to a chip of the real old 
 Irish racehorse hreed of pig, which turned round to 
 look at them from a moss-roofed cabin door. 
 
 "Not a much, I'm thinkin'," replied Pat. "I 
 doubt I'd not get one to bid me the time o' day, 
 or ask where was I goin' at all with that one. Not 
 a pick on him he has at all. They'd be wantin' a 
 shillin' maybe to take him from me to save funeral 
 expenses." 
 
 "Ah! you're a funny fellow, Pat," laughed 
 Rochfort, and Pat silently acquiesced in the 
 character, with a twinkle of enjoyment at his own 
 facetiousness in his eye. 
 
 Turning off a bad road now into a worse track, 
 they crossed a brawling stream by a natural bridge 
 of rock, and jolting along for half a mile or so further, 
 dipped at length into a picturesque little nook, 
 with a smooth bit of green turf, a few surrounding 
 trees, a rock or two, and a tiny stream trickling away 
 from the clear spring which went by the name of the 
 Holy Well ; where Terence and another watcher, and 
 a couple of other neighbouring residents, who had
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 193 
 
 joined tliem in tlie hope of indulging their native 
 taste for sport, were grouped upon the grass, in 
 waiting. There were no penitents to-day performing 
 their stations round the well upon their hended 
 knees ; hut many a recent offering was hanging on 
 the trees hard hy — those trees which could have 
 told wild tales of revelry and riot in hygone days, 
 when the lads and lasses of the country used to 
 assemble there to make love, and pray, and fight on 
 "pattern" days, while their elders told their beads 
 and jostled each other with superstitious fervour 
 round the brink. Whiskey-booths and quasi-reli- 
 gious riots were out of date, and the rocky spring 
 was only visited now by believers in the efficacy of 
 its waters as a cure for manifold diseases, or by 
 pious and penitent devotees. 
 
 While the two gentlemen are getting down from 
 their seats a general greeting goes on between the 
 retainers. 
 
 " Good-morrow, Terence; good-morrow, boys." 
 
 " Good-morrow, sir ; good-morrow, Pat. What 
 way are ye ? How's yourself? That's a fine day, if 
 it doesn't rain." 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 " Oil, sorra rain. How are yous this long while ? " 
 The dogs are tumbled out, and career wildly 
 about in every direction, leaping the stream back- 
 wards and forwards, jumping up on everybody by turns, 
 and then bursting away into long spurts of delight at 
 regaining their legs, and paying not the slightest at- 
 tention to Mr. Connor's unintermittent whistle. 
 
 Kochfort enters into conversation with Terence 
 with his accustomed cordiality, seeing through his 
 unusually stern and distant manner a certain honest 
 shame at his brother's arrest, which made him avoid 
 any allusion to it, or any appearance of conscious- 
 ness of anything of the kind before the other men. 
 The feeling of reflected disgrace had set on edge the 
 independent self-respect of Terence's character, and 
 made him gather himself together, as it were, with a 
 sort of sensitive defiance ; which towards his master 
 became a respectful and conscious reserve, and to- 
 wards the others as who should say, " Nemo me 
 impune lacessit. I know the boy has disgraced us, 
 but the shame is not of our own making, and we 
 won't acknowledge it " — therefore that determined 
 independence of bearing, that strong reserve, and
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 195 
 
 that lurking readiness to spring. And Terence was 
 not a man to offend witli impunity. He had more 
 ballast than the generality of his countr^^men, more 
 energy of will, and more reasonable self-control. But 
 he was quick of feeling, fiery in nature, and prone to 
 passion as the rest. And on the rare occasions when 
 he let his anger have its way, it would be no common 
 rage which burst the barrier of reason generally 
 interposed to save him from himself. The outbursts 
 of a man whose passions are in general kept in stern 
 subjection will obviously be more violent, in propor- 
 tion to the resisting power which they have overcome, 
 than those of other men who go off like hair-triggers 
 at the slightest provocation ; and the o'ermastering 
 rage of such a man has a power and a strength and a 
 depth about it which is absolutely impressive at times, 
 and which it may be well to avoid arousing. 
 
 An Irishman, however, is not the man wantonly to 
 hurt his fellow's feelings. He has too much natural 
 delicacy and tact. He would be much more likely 
 to offer a ready sympathy, framed in the manner 
 which his quick perceptions and imaginative inge- 
 nuity would point out at once as the most accept-
 
 196 
 
 able, and so disarm in a moment any readiness to 
 take offence. Silence altogether would not be so 
 agreeable to him ; but, like a Frenchman or a 
 woman, 3'ou may generally trust him to say or do 
 the right thing where another's feelings are con- 
 cerned. 
 
 Terence's companions, however, had not yet heard 
 of the outrage of the previous night. Their district 
 was a wild and unfrequented one, and the news had 
 not 3'et penetrated so far ; and he was, of course, not 
 the man to communicate what he looked upon as a 
 discreditable attachment to himself, even though 
 they, as he might have known had he cared to look 
 upon it with their indifferent eyes, would scarcely 
 have thought it more than a subject of adventurous 
 and jocular interest. Besides, he had heard no parti- 
 culars of the matter himself, having been obliged to 
 start across the mountain soon after Larry's wife 
 had arrived in tears to announce the bare fact of 
 his arrest. 
 
 " To bring his whole kin to shame in this way ! " 
 Terence said to himself as he strode along through 
 the purple heather under that bright morning sun.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 197 
 
 '' Isn't it a wonder that any man, and liim strong 
 and able to work, wouldn't be ashamed to take such 
 coorses upon him ? A person would think that it 
 would serve him full better to be mindin' his busi- 
 ness, and keepin' his children out o' the kennel, 
 and his bit o' land from goin' to rack an' ruin, an' 
 his woman, that was as good a girl as any in the 
 country, barrin' only one, out of the poor-house, and 
 not be goin' batin' a poor fellow that may be never 
 did him a haporth o' harm. If it was that young 
 Brady fellow now, I'd not be for sayin' so much 
 agen it. But that boy '11 come to no good, forbye 
 this present occasion, it's always up to some divil- 
 ment or other he is ; and a fox may take many a 
 fowl before he's caught, but, in general, he loses his 
 life afore he's done." 
 
 " And then there'll be the two families to 
 keep, instead o' the one," Terence continued, 
 branching off into another train of reflection, " and 
 what'll I do then ? Where's the use of my 
 workin' day and night to get a bit o' money to- 
 gether to show that I'm not come to ask for her 
 empty-handed, if it's all to be squandered in keepin'
 
 198 TEliENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 another man's family. Every man should be able 
 for the support of his own ; and for them as isn't it's 
 more shame for them marry at all. It's what I'd 
 be downright ashamed myself to see any other hands 
 but my own puttin' food into the children's mouths ; 
 and it's what, please God, I never will see. For if I 
 went to my grave, Kathleen, without ever callin' jou 
 my own sweet darlin' wife, I'd never ask you to marry 
 a man that wouldn't use his hands to do the most 
 that ever he could for yourself and the little childer. 
 A man that's to live like a man must work his best : 
 and it's easy to see what'll follow, if he won't." 
 
 The particulars which Eochfort communicated 
 soothed in some degree his indignation against Larry ; 
 and when he found that it was the same man, in all 
 probability, who, as he now recollected, had been 
 talking to them by the road on the previous night, 
 the idea of his having dared to address himself to him 
 with the intentions which, read by the light of pre- 
 sent experience, he apparently had had in so doing, 
 began to suggest Larry's conduct in a very different 
 light indeed. A remark of Larry's at the time also 
 occurred to him ; but shooting had commenced, and
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 199 
 
 Roclifort was too keen a sportsman to devote much 
 time or attention to conversation when the dogs were 
 working. The day had become overcast and looked 
 like rain, but still there was a good fresh breeze, and 
 for some time they found an average stock of birds, 
 and shot away merrily enough, Kochfort superseding 
 his keeper in the management of the dogs, (which, for 
 that matter, he had trained almost entirely himself,) 
 sticking close to them, and getting of course the 
 greater part of the shooting in consequence. Shirley 
 was not at all so keen in pursuit of sport ; he liked 
 grouse-shooting because the intervals of sitting down 
 while the dogs took a wide range round him, were 
 such pleasant interludes ; and he did a good deal of 
 this part of the work while Kochfort hunted the dogs, 
 with Pat Connor in close attendance to pick up the 
 birds which he seldom missed. Shirley had shot 
 himself out in his youth, and though shooting was 
 still a pleasant enough recreation to him for the 
 reason above mentioned, the freshness of the moun- 
 tain air, the scenery, and so fortli — his interest in it 
 was not sufficient to satisfy a man like Kochfort, 
 who, if he was not heart and soul a sportsman, a man
 
 200 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 for guns and dogs, and wild game under every kind 
 of hardship, was nothing at all. Shirley's heart at 
 the best of times was only half in his work, the other 
 half carried away by the divers interests and respon- 
 sibilities of his position, which were never altogether 
 absent from his mind, and which he very willingly 
 gave a place to at all times — he was in fact one of 
 your " earnest " men, poor fellow. To-day he was un- 
 usually careless, and half-hearted about sport, sitting 
 down absently or talking to Terence, and Eochfort 
 had ceased to wait for him to come up when the 
 dogs were pointing. 
 
 " When Lord Shirley gets into conversation," he 
 said to Pat, " he's no use at all — confound that bird ! 
 he lay very close, didn't he ? " as an old cock grouse 
 got up under his feet, and went crowing away until 
 tumbled in a heap into a bog-hole. '^ Where's 
 Shot ? " he asked presently. " I haven't seen him 
 for some time. You've cured him of his trick of 
 running away, haven't you ? " 
 
 Several consecutive whistles, however, failed to 
 produce the return of Shot. 
 
 " It must be that he's run away with himself,"
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 201 
 
 says Pat, going forward to look over a neiglibouring 
 rise. **Begorra, not a bit of him then!" he 
 exclaims a moment or two after ; " but he's pointin' 
 away down below there, as firm as a rock. Sure I 
 knew it all along," a feat of retrospective clairvoyance 
 on Mr. Connor's part somewhat difficult to reconcile 
 with his previous attempt at a solution of the 
 difficulty. 
 
 Eochfort looked round to see if Shirley was in a 
 position to take advantage of a point some hundreds 
 of yards down the slope, which he had just, with 
 much labour and toil, ascended, and told him of the 
 opportunity which now^ offered for ensuring a second 
 ascent after finding the dog perhaps steadily setting 
 an old hare's form ; but Shirley called to him to go 
 on, he would wait ; and he moved on with Terence a 
 short distance further, so as to have him in view, 
 and threw himself down upon a soft heather knoll. 
 
 " That's rather too far to go down again," he 
 said. 
 
 *'"Well, it is, your honour, a long distance," 
 answered Terence, feeling in his heart a certain con- 
 tempt for his want of pluck and keenness. If a man
 
 202 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 did a tiling at all, Terence thought, he ought to do it 
 with a will. He hated to see anybody going about 
 his business or his sport or anything in that indiffer- 
 ent, languid kind of way. And having been himself 
 an ardent sportsman whenever he had the oppor- 
 tunity years ago, and still retaining all his keenness 
 for it, he was afflicted perhaps to some extent, like 
 many of his betters, with the difficulty of compre- 
 hending how there could be two feelings on the same 
 subject, which was so essentially an attractive one. 
 
 "What a curious thing it is that people can't 
 let others have tastes different to themselves, that 
 they can't be content with the quiet consciousness 
 of feeling themselves the centre of the universe, 
 but must insist upon the particular pursuit in which 
 they take their chief delight, being the focus of all 
 the other interests in life. I don't know a more 
 irritating form of self-assertion. It suggests an inferior 
 capacity for forming a right judgment of the com- 
 parative worth of things which a sensitive self-love 
 must always resent, unless it has attained that calm 
 philosophic growth which enables it to smile in a 
 superior manner at the foibles of the impinging
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 203 
 
 world. But speaking as a man and not as a pliilo- 
 soplier, is it not annoying to find yourself treated witli 
 a quiet pitying contempt for not seeing in meta- 
 physics, for instance, or in endless conjectures as 
 to the future of the working man, or in fashionahle 
 frivolizing, or in the slaughtering of birds and 
 beasts, the absolute end and satisfaction of existence ? 
 One would have thought that any man who was in 
 the habit of taking his daily walks abroad into the 
 world, and who was gifted with even the most 
 ordinary powers of observation, could hardly be so 
 wrapped up in his own peculiar view of life, as not to 
 see at once that there was but one pursuit, one 
 object, really worth living in this world for — viz., to 
 write novels. We are lapsing, however, or have 
 lapsed, into a digression, which, from an artistic 
 point of view, is about as defensible as the intro- 
 duction of an Irish pig into a Dutch interior would 
 be. The trammels of art become irksome sometimes, 
 and only for the spectre of a frowning public, which 
 obliges one to pare and clip and fit and prune, as 
 Mr. Browning says somewhere, it would often delight 
 to fling them to the winds, and rattle on in careless
 
 204 TERENCE :\rc GOWAN, 
 
 numbers, allowing fancy to run a random course 
 along the cliords in such a happy freedom from re- 
 straint as would set on edge the teeth of the whole 
 chorus of " indolent reviewers." Of course w^e all 
 know our Horace, and some of us have even read 
 our Aristotle on the Art Poetic, which ought to be 
 a blood relation on the constructive side with the art 
 delineative of the novelist ; and in lucid moments 
 when good work is our aim — as of course it is, or 
 ought to be — we are very much enamoured of sym- 
 metry and unity, and that smooth polish over which 
 the nail may glide without a jar, and the many other 
 charming properties of our art. But there is an 
 instinct of naughtiness still remaining ft-om child- 
 hood which insists on being gratified occasionally ; 
 and when the transgression has been acknowledged, 
 it is so easy to glide gracefully back into the paths 
 of virtue again, and go on as if nothing had hap- 
 pened, to tell, how after sitting in silence for some 
 moments w^atching Kochfort's retreating figure, Shirley 
 turned round to Terence, and said — 
 
 *' Tell me, wasn't it your brother who was arrested 
 last night for beating this man ? "
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 205 
 
 " It was, my lord : more shame for him. But, 
 indeed, the fellow deserved it any way ? " 
 
 *' I'm afraid from Mr. Eochfort's account, he's an 
 idle fellow." 
 
 *' Well, he is not an idle boy then," replied 
 Terence, feeling it incumbent upon him to stand up 
 for his own. " He was hardly treated at the time he 
 married, gettin' a poor enough bit o' land on worse 
 terms ; and the bad times came then, and the cow 
 died upon him, and that had like to run him to deso- 
 lation entirely, when he was left with nothin' but the 
 bare sod under him ; for it's only every day gettin' 
 nearer to the workhouse that a man '11 be without 
 stock on this barren ground." 
 
 *' Can't he reclaim, and do something for himself 
 in that way ? " 
 
 " He wouldn't have time for it, your lordship, if 
 he was ever so willing. He must only earn a shilling 
 where he can get, and leave his own bit o' land to go 
 back into heather and bog again." 
 
 " How does he support his family at all then ? " 
 
 " Badly enough, indeed. He's herdin' a few head 
 o' cattle o' my own on a bit o' waste land above, and
 
 206 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 he gets the milk o' two cows out o' that, and I'd be 
 glad enough that they'd have it ; when a man has 
 nothing hut a poor dissolute pig to trust to, and has 
 to live on his own shifts you may say, every little '11 
 be a help to him." 
 
 " But the times are good enough now," said 
 Shirley. " Prices are high — there's a great demand 
 for labour. I should have thought that any man 
 willing to work, and to make the most of his land, 
 ought to be able to put together a little money to 
 make a start with." 
 
 *' The times are good enough for them that has 
 means ; but there's a great deal o' people that was left 
 very thin in the bad seasons, and it takes a poor man 
 a long while recoverin' back. If the times were not 
 as good as they are, it'd be a better chance for a poor 
 man ; for now he'll be to pay a long price for a baste, 
 and if he won't be able to pay the money down, it'll 
 be doublin' on him before it's paid up, and that's no 
 way of makin' a living." 
 
 That seemed true enough ; and after an acquiescent 
 pause Shirley proceeded to air his views upon the evils 
 of subdivision with especial reference to Larry's case.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 207 
 
 *' It makes all poor together," lie said, " and 
 gives no man a cliance hardly, however industrious he 
 may be." 
 
 " That's a true word indeed," said Terence. 
 "For though there's a deal o' land under cultivation 
 now that never was afore, the country people was 
 better off then nor what they are now. The farms 
 was large and held cheap, and there was good bits o' 
 grass about the rivers down, and food enough on the 
 mountain for the stock that was in it ; but now they 
 have the land all split up into garters, and it's not 
 easy for some o' them to be havin' the drop o' milk 
 and the grain o' hay at all, — forbye that, on some 
 properties they're payin' dear enough for it too ; and 
 if a man '11 reclaim an acre o' bog, or moorland, or 
 marsh, he '11 have a rent put on him that's fit to 
 discourage any person." 
 
 '' But you wouldn't be expecting that the landlord 
 shouldn't have some share of the profit of his own 
 land, after you've been paid for the labour you have 
 put into it ? " 
 
 " Well, I would not consider that I was hardly 
 treated," replied Terence, deliberately, ''if I'd get
 
 208 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 tlie land at the first rent for some time, any way, and 
 then after that I'd think myself that a fair rent would 
 be no hardship. But there's son?e thinks the land- 
 lord has no call to be lookin' for rent at all off land 
 that wasn't worth a shilling an acre until it was 
 wrought by themselves." 
 
 " Those are the unreasonable fellows that wouldn't 
 be satisfied without getting the land to themselves 
 altogether. They'd have no landlords at all if you 
 gave them their own way." 
 
 " Oh ! then without landlords to rule," said 
 Terence, ^'we'd have a nice country. There'd be 
 nothin' but contintion and fightin' then through 
 the whole of it. And the petty landlord would be 
 the worst of any, for them sort o' fellows has no 
 feelin' for the poor man at all." 
 
 " You wouldn't be the better for a change on 
 this estate, at all events." 
 
 " Ah, no ; when the master goes — that God may 
 spare him his health for a long while yet ! — we'll 
 not be bavin' the land as easy again, there's no 
 doubt o' that. Not a better man nor a better land- 
 lord in Ireland. A person has no need of a lease
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 209 
 
 under him ; there's no fear of being put out while 
 he's the head landlord. Sure there never was a rise 
 in the rents on this estate since he come into it. 
 That big stretch o' land your lordship may see down 
 below there is held for next to nothin', a man may 
 say. In his father's time it was all a flow bog 
 that 'ud take you up to your knees to cross it, and 
 them that reclaimed it got no rent put on them yet ; 
 except, maybe, one or two, a long time back, when 
 there was an election comin' on and votes were 
 wanted badly, and some o' them were brought in 
 as freeholders that were goin' at that time. They 
 were sayin' that that was her ladyship's doin'." 
 
 "I dare say it was," said Shirley; "her lady- 
 ship's a great politician." 
 
 " She is then, indeed. A man that'll vote against 
 the master off the estate needn't be lookin' for con- 
 sideration from her no more." 
 
 '' I hear the priests are telling you all that if you 
 don't vote for Mr. Brady this time it'll be the worse 
 for you." 
 
 " Well, they are talkin', indeed. But, ah ! 
 what'd a man go to give his vote to that fellow 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 for?" Terence asked, scornfully. ''Isn't it a pity 
 for them be disturbin' the country and makin' trouble 
 between a landlord and his tenants ? Wouldn't 
 they have a right to support the old stock that stood 
 well to them always, and not be goin' after such 
 fellows as ould Brady, that couldn't get anythin* 
 done for the askin' in Parliament ? " 
 
 "There'll be a hard fight," said Shirley, "and 
 the voters up in these parts will want looking after. 
 They're a wild lot about here, I take it." 
 
 " Father Hugh has this district quiet enough 
 then. But there's wild lads out in Corranmore 
 beyond that wouldn't mind what they were at." 
 
 *' That's a nest of Kibbonmen, I'm told," said 
 Shirley. "You're not a Eibbonman, I suppose, 
 are you ? " 
 
 " Oh ! not a hate I know about them, nor part 
 ever I'd take with any work o' the sort, nor any other 
 person that 'ud be said by his clergy. There's not 
 much o' them hereabouts anyway, for there was 
 a party o' them Corranmore boys come over one 
 Sunday mornin' a while ago, and took away every 
 gun in the place, and that should be showin' that
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 211 
 
 there's none in this district. That was before the 
 county was proclaimed, and havin' arms was not 
 allowed. Ah ! the people is more quiet entirely," 
 Terence continued, " to what they used to be. 
 There's twice as many police in the country, and 
 along with that there's more law, and they don't 
 be contindin' and killin' other the way they used 
 at all. I mind oftentimes hearin' my father say 
 that thirty or forty years back if a man wasn't liked 
 in the country, five or six fellows would join to him 
 in the fair and just batther him there till they'd leave 
 his brains lyin' about the very fair green. For 
 a quart o' whiskey thej'd do it t' any man, in spite 
 of his teeth. Now the police'll interfere immediately 
 when they'll see a stir commencin', and if a crowd'll 
 begin to gather, they'll be into the middle of it at 
 wanst. So there's not too much fightin' at all these 
 times, unless they may happen begin and batther 
 other in the evenin' goin' home. Father Hugh bate 
 off the whiskey up to two o'clock a Sunday, what's 
 more," (the priest had apparently taken to himself 
 the credit of this regulation,) " and a man'll be to 
 remain at home altogether on that day and holydays ;
 
 212 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 or if he'll not, and gets drunk in spite of his clergy, 
 he'll not get forgiveness without askin' it on his 
 knees from the bishop before the whole chapel ; an' 
 it's well for him to get it at that. I'd take an odd 
 glass of whiskey myself as well as another," added 
 Terence, " but not a drop ever I'd taste no more, if 
 I couldn't take it without fallin' out with my neigh- 
 bours in that fashion." 
 
 " They've not done beating people yet, anyhow," 
 said Shirley, with a smile. 
 
 " Oh, well, my lord, I wouldn't doubt but what 
 there was great provocation about that same business 
 last night. I was goin' to tell your lordship, when 
 the master was tellin' me about the disguise the man 
 had on him, I was considerin' about a remark which 
 Larry made to me last evening after him talkin' to 
 us by the road over. It's what he said, that only for 
 the black hair and whiskers of him he'd be sayin' that 
 he wouldn't mistake him for one Nolan that lives in 
 these parts." Shirley's interest was aroused at once. 
 " But that man's a tenant of your lordship's," Terence 
 continued, as if this fact and the errand on which he 
 was supposed to have been bent were irreconcilable.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 213 
 
 "He is," Shirley answered, " and as bad a 
 tenant as any I've got, and I shouldn't be the least 
 surprised if he were the man. Has he red hair ? " 
 
 " He has." 
 
 " Then there's no doubt about it. But I wonder 
 at his talking to you if you knew him." 
 
 " Larry, indeed, knows more about him than 
 I do myself, and the lad's quick enough to be able 
 for any one. But that's just what 'ud plaze this 
 same Dan, the darin' of it ; for he's a play-boy 
 entirely, and I wouldn't put it past him at all." 
 Shirley mused, and Terence continued, '^ It's only 
 very glad he'd be to do Mr. Rochfort himself an 
 injury if he could, after the way he served his 
 brother one time — it's five or six years, ma3'be, 
 since." 
 
 " What was that ? " asked Shirley. " I've heard 
 something of a poaching case in which he was 
 concerned." 
 
 '' It was one Christmas mornin' that himself 
 and three others were out poachin' about the foot 
 o' Thor beyant. Micky Flynn, that was the moun- 
 tain keeper at that time, was goin' his rounds after
 
 214 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 daylight, expectin' tliat some o' them might be cut, 
 and when he found the shot he made away with 
 him over the top o' the hill in the direction, and 
 come down right forenenst the party o' them, all with 
 faces blackened, and a couple o' them with guns in 
 their hands. So says Micky, ' What are yous doing 
 here ? Don't ye know that this is Mr. Eochfort's 
 property, and that it's poachin' ye are ? ' ^ Not a 
 hate we care for Mr. Eochfort or for you either,' says 
 the foremost o' them. ' We come out for sport, and 
 we'll take it, and no thanks to you.' ^ Well, if that's 
 your way,' says Micky, 'I'll just be follering ye till 
 ye're off the land ; for that's my business, d'3'e see, 
 and that's all about it. And for all your black face, 
 James Nolan, I'd know you among a hundred, ye 
 rascally poacher : it's not the first time ye're at this 
 w^ork, and I dar' ye to go on.' So with that the 
 other fellows made at him at once, and Micky, seein' 
 that there was four o' them against him, took to his 
 heels, and made good runnin' until he reached 
 another man's house that lives by the road con- 
 vanient, and he thought he'd get shelter there any- 
 way, that they'd not be to folly him further. But
 
 THE IKISH TENANT. 215 
 
 that wouldn't fit them at all, and they come right 
 into the house after him, and found the poor fellow 
 hidin' hehind the door. Well, it was a wonder there 
 was a breath o' life left in him after the murderin' 
 he got then ; there wasn't a hit of his body or his 
 face that wasn't black with the bruises they giv' 
 him, for months after. However, that didn't save 
 them, for as soon as ever Micky could move after, 
 he went away down to the master, and told him what 
 they done on him, and the master allowed him for 
 to prosecute ; and he did, and only for the man who 
 owned the house bein' afraid of his life to swear to 
 a knowledge o' the men, they'd have all been sent 
 for trial to the assizes, and it would have gone hard 
 with them but what they'd all get the same as James 
 Nolan. But they just skirted away to America when 
 they heard that their names had been mentioned, 
 and the master took hands with him then, and got 
 him two years in prison on the head of his day's 
 sport ; and it wouldn't be a bit loss to the country at 
 all if he'd got ten more on the top o' that. Micky 
 Flynn had to leave the country then ; it wasn't fit to 
 hold him with the way his life was tormented by the
 
 216 TERENCE Mc GO WAN, 
 
 friends o' these parties, and the Xolans have sworn 
 that they'll be even with the master j'et for that day's 
 work. Let them swear." 
 
 " They're a bad lot, I know," said Shirley. " But 
 do you always get annoyance when you attend to 
 your duty properly ? " 
 
 '' They wdil, of course, be castin' it up to a man, 
 and callin' him *spy' and 'informer,' whistlin' the 
 bull after him and callin' him out of his name, 
 makin' little of him at chapels and fairs, and such 
 like — but even so ? mustn't a man do his duty by 
 his master, let them like it never so little ? 
 
 " They w^ere tellin' Father Maguire, one time," 
 continued Terence, " that I was goin' out o' m}' way 
 to make accusations against them ; bringin' up 
 cattle that had trespassed by accident, and tryin' 
 to fine poor fellows, to be makin' credit for myself. 
 So one day my mother goes over to ask for some 
 bit of a favour she wanted, and not a word would he 
 listen to her, ' for your son Terence,' says he, 'is a 
 bad boy.' She comes away home back, then, and 
 tells me what the priest had said ; and I went down 
 that mortial evening, and I asked him what did he
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 217 
 
 mean, at all, an' I payin' my dues as well as 
 another ? 
 
 " ' Well, Terence,' he says, ' it's not about dues 
 at all ; hut I'm hearin' complaints agen you, dif- 
 ferent times, that you have the whole country at law, 
 and that you're doin' more nor your duty, and 
 prosecutin' poor fellows that didn't know they were 
 doin' wrong at all.' 
 
 "'Well, your riverence,' I saj^s, * whoever told 
 you that, was tellin' joii a lie — no less ; ' and I took 
 him to task, then, about every one of them, and he 
 was forced to hold his tongue at the latther end." 
 
 " Father Maguire isn't too fond of the landlords," 
 said Shirley. And seeing that Father Maguire owed 
 his principal receipts in kind to the advocacy of the 
 people against law and landlord, it may be presumed 
 that he found it his interest to oppose them in every 
 way ; and being born and bred in a cabin within a 
 mile of the house which he now occupied, it may 
 also be presumed that it required no violent mental 
 revolution to enable him to adopt his anti-proprietary 
 views. Terence, however, was too good a Catholic 
 to allow that his priest was not influenced by the
 
 218 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 purest and most praiseworthy motives ; and when 
 pressed as to whether Father Hugh de Kogan, who 
 had imposed such good rules upon his parishioners 
 in respect of drinking and other social e\dls, was not 
 the better priest of the two, he merely answered, 
 ^' Ah ! well — you'll never find two men alike : there'll 
 be one 'ull think one thing, and another, another ; 
 and every man's own conscience must tell him 
 whether he's doin' right or doin' wrong. Many a 
 man '11 get a bad name that deserves it least — and 
 the good man maybe the worst after all." 
 
 This was a somewhat platitudinal utterance, 
 barely to the point, but it answered the purpose of 
 evasion ; and Terence, trusting implicitly to obedi- 
 ence to constituted spiritual authorit}-, would never 
 have allowed himself to shape into a definite form 
 any suppressed doubts he may have, half-unknown to 
 himself, entertained with regard to the competency 
 of such a firebrand as Father Maguire as a deposit 
 for second-hand spiritual infallibility^ 
 
 A puff of smoke far below attracted their atten- 
 tion at this moment ; and Shirley, remarking that 
 that must be a wonderfully good dog if it was the
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 219 
 
 same bird lie was following all the time, rises from 
 his lazy attitude, and, after watching them pick up 
 the bird, continues on in the direction in which he 
 observed that Kochfort was going. A drizzling rain 
 soon after commenced, and before he came up with 
 Alan again, it had increased to a steady downpour, 
 which had every appearance of having set in for the 
 remainder of the day. 
 
 " What a climate this is," he said; *'this morn- 
 ing you'd have thought it couldn't rain." 
 
 " Oh ! it won't last," said Kochfort, in a cheerful 
 sanguine tone, scarcely warranted by the general 
 appearance of the weather. The tops of the hills 
 were all enveloped in mist, and the same genial 
 influence was gradually enfolding them where they 
 stood. The turf clamps loomed dark and black 
 through the gathering shade, and the figures of three 
 armed policemen, in search of potheen- stills along 
 the broken banks, created quite an interesting sensa- 
 tion as their dark figures appeared, noiselessly gliding 
 through the gloom. A solitary hare now and then 
 came cantering miserably up along the top of a bank, 
 stopped suddenly to reconnoitre, and then again
 
 220 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 cantered miserably away; or a lone figure would 
 appear struggling under a creel of turf, and disap- 
 pearing dejectedly into tlie mist a moment or two 
 after. An old cock grouse occasionally crowed a 
 mocking and invisible crow from a neighbouring 
 eminence, and then there was a silence, and a whirr 
 of wings which told of a pack gone off. Then a flock 
 of plover whistled dimly past ; and the shot which 
 followed them had a short and dull and solitary 
 sound. 
 
 " It's gettin' wicked," said Pat Connor, as he 
 shook the dribbling stream off his hat. " The mist 11 
 beat us, I doubt." 
 
 ''Oh! that'll go off, if it doesn't continue," 
 said a mountain-keeper who was in attendance ; and 
 the remark drew down a chorus of laughter from the 
 party, and a somewhat contemptuous rejoinder from 
 Mr. Connor. 
 
 They were all crouched under a bank now, 
 waiting in the vain hope of its clearing up, and more 
 or less sitting in a bog hole, Avith a view of keeping 
 themselves dry ; just as the fishes go down to the 
 bottom of the sea when it rains to avoid getting wet.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 221 
 
 " This is pleasure," tliougiit Shirley, as he looked 
 out upon the comfortless scene as far as the very 
 limited extent of his vision would allow, and saw 
 nothing but damp and drip, and gusting and disgust- 
 ing rain, and he envied Kochfort's unflagging spirits. 
 The latter was fondling the good dog Shot, and 
 complimenting him on his late performance, and Shot 
 was giving unmistakeahle and dirty signs of enjoy- 
 ment and appreciation, thrusting his nose into his 
 master's hand, and importunately demanding a con- 
 tinuance of his attentions. 
 
 " You ought to have come, Shirley," said Alan ; 
 " it was worth your while to see old Shot following 
 up that bird : I'm sure it was half a mile, if it was 
 a foot, from where we first found him to where he 
 got up." 
 
 What man does not think his dog worth observa- 
 tion above every other dog, and would not resent its 
 depreciation, as any woman would the impossible 
 detection of a flaw in her darling little strabo of a 
 child ? 
 
 " Your honour made great tracks, that time," 
 said the aforesaid mountain-keeper, when Shirley had
 
 222 TERENCE MC GO WAX, 
 
 excused himself on the plea of distance. " Ye're 
 a great traveller, good luck to j'e," he added, in a 
 casual supplementary kind of way, as he filled his 
 X^ipe for a '^ blast of smoke." 
 
 *'His lordship's share '11 be light, this day," 
 suggested Pat Connor, no doubt with a mental reser- 
 vation that it deserved to be. 
 
 "I mind one daj^, your honour," he continued, 
 *' when 3'our father — God rest him — was out on this 
 side, meetin' a pack of grouse just above there 
 at the Eagle's Nest, and he made the gi-eatest 
 slaughterin' that ever I saw any gentleman make. 
 There was fourteen of them in it, and bad luck to 
 the one at all he left out o' them. They were gettin' 
 up in pairs to him, and he loadin' and firin' as fast 
 as ever they'd get up, until he had the whole fourteen 
 lyin' about him. Don't ye mind that, Owen ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I do, surely. Divil a lie in it," said 
 Owen. '' There used to be a hellish lot o' grouse on 
 the moor them years, whatever's become o' them," 
 he added, taking to Pat's romance as naturally as if 
 it were his own. 
 
 Pat, finding that his efi*orts for the entertainment
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 223 
 
 of the party were well received, proceeded to com- 
 municate further strange incidents in the sporting 
 line, which he had had the good fortune to witness ; 
 and the production of a flask of whiskey, which 
 Kochfort shrewdly suspected had never paid duty, 
 produced from him a recollection of a still there had 
 once heen in the neighbourhood of the Holy Well, 
 where they started from, which had baffled the 
 police for a long time, until there was a reward 
 offered for information about it. The man who 
 worked it then sold the best part of his apparatus 
 and informed on the rest of it, without mentioning 
 any names, got his reward, and set up elsewhere. 
 *' Well, here's luck," he said then, raising to his 
 lips the whiskey w^hich had been waiting in his hand 
 for the conclusion of his story, and drinking it oif 
 at a gulp. " That's the stuff that '11 keep the cold 
 out of a man — thank your honour." 
 
 " Here, Owen, you ought to want it more than 
 any of us," said Kochfort. *' Did you ever hear of the 
 man who caught cold sitting next to a wet-nurse ? 
 Is the wife still at Churchtown ? " 
 
 *' Troth, your honour's a funny gentleman, long
 
 224 TERENCE Mc GOWAN, 
 
 life to ye," answered Owen, who was himself con- 
 sidered among his neighbours and friends to be 
 somewhat of a "rum chuck." " She is, out on her 
 milk yet." 
 
 The connubial ties were not so firmly bound 
 round Owen's heart, but what he could afford to do 
 without his " old Satan," as he called her, for a time ; 
 and from a purely disinterested reluctance to mono- 
 polize the whole delight which such a woman was 
 able to afford to the happy man w^ho possessed her, 
 he had many a time offered to give or to lend her to 
 any one who liked to come forward and take advan- 
 tage of his offer. No one, however, had done so as 
 yet ; and it was repeated now with a similar result. 
 
 Pat Connor, thinking possibly that the dignity 
 of his position required him to take his full share 
 in the conversation, offered a few bantering re- 
 marks here ; and Rochfort went on to ask whether 
 Owen found the hare good that he gave him the 
 other day. 
 
 Oh ! it w^as good enough, and made fine kitchen, 
 Owen said ; " but it took half a hundredweight of 
 turf to boil, so hard it was."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 225 
 
 " Did tlie hares do j^ou much harm this year ? " 
 asked Eochfort. 
 
 '^ Oh ! not a blade of grass or corn they left on 
 me at all; the divils : it'd surprise you to see the 
 number o' them that's in it every evenin'. Consarn 
 them, no less than a couple o' score '11 be there 
 playin' themselves when it'll begin to get dusk. I 
 was fairly beat with jukin' along the ditch pitchin' 
 stones afther them ; and I fell to and I made a big 
 sort of a barricade then across the half of it, thinkin' 
 to divide it with them, and let them take it bite 
 about with me, and that they wouldn't lep' it on me ; 
 but, begob, they lep' it afther, and if it wasn't for 
 the compinsation your honour promised me I'd be 
 lost entirely. This man," referring to Pat, " knows 
 that as well as m3"self." 
 
 ''I don't know that there was any word about 
 compensation as yet," said Alan, laughing; "but 
 never fear but you'll get it, Owen, if there's damage 
 done. I don't want any man to be keeping stock for 
 me without getting return for what they take from 
 him. That 'd be a queer sort of fair play." 
 
 " Oh ! I knew well that your honour wouldn't 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 let me be at tlie loss, for you always stood well to me 
 at all times, long life to you for that same." 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation then, and 
 the weather filled it up. 
 
 " No fear of it's clearing, I'm afraid," said 
 Shirley. 
 
 " Indeed, then, it's appearingly to be a big storm." 
 
 " This, at any rate, isn't a very lively way of 
 passing the time," said Eochfort. " You said you 
 wanted to see some of your people, Shirley : we shall 
 get no more shooting I'm afraid, to-day, why not 
 cross over into the valley as we are this far ? " 
 
 " Is Glen Annagh just over this brow ? " 
 
 " Your lordship's own mearing isn't half-a-mile 
 out 0^ this," said Terence. 
 
 " Very well, I'm willing — anything's better than 
 sitting here all day. Whose is the nearest house 
 to this?" 
 
 " It's Thady O'Hara's," my lord, said Terence, 
 who, as it subsequently turned out, had a good right 
 to know the country. 
 
 ''And Thady O'Hara has a daughter that it's 
 worth going all the distance to see," said Rochfort.
 
 THE IRISH tena;nt. 227 
 
 "Indeed he lias, then," said Owen. " There's not 
 such a fine slip of a girl anywhere in these borders." 
 
 " She ought to be thinking of a husband soon." 
 
 *'0h! then she's hair up* this long while, and 
 she has consate enough for a husband any moment. 
 I seen young Mr. Brady, out from Ballyduff, talkin' 
 to her a time or two ; I don't know what would he be 
 on for." 
 
 " It's but false music she'll hear from him 
 then," broke in Terence ; " for there's not a greater 
 rascal than himself in these parts." 
 
 "It's yourself that would like to have the batin' 
 o' that man, Terence, I'm thinkin'," said Owen, 
 slily. 
 
 "It's not for nothin' that ye're over this way 
 twinty times in the month. Well, she's a purty 
 girl as any in Ireland, and I wish ye the same luck 
 as I had with my own woman." 
 
 Terence might have thanked him for nothing, 
 but he didn't reply at all, and looked as foolish as a 
 
 * Up to marriageable age the hair falls short about the neck ; 
 •when that interesting period has arrived — when boys begin to hang 
 do-\vn a modest tail — it is taken up into a knot behind.
 
 228 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 strong man may when twitted before others with 
 the fond weakness into which soft looks and gentle 
 tones have dissolved his strength. 
 
 '' Hallo, Terence, is this true ? " cried Rochfort. 
 " You in love — and with Kathleen O'Hara — well, I 
 wish you all the luck in the world, my man ; she's a 
 good girl and a pretty girl, and you'll make her a 
 good husband, I'll be bound." 
 
 '' I'll hould ye he will, be a good head to her," 
 added Owen, in a confirmatory and encouraging 
 manner, which was intended to beget a reciprocal 
 good-will in Terence's feelings, but which produced 
 a precisely opposite effect. 
 
 What could be more irritating than to be patted 
 on the back in this way, and to have your love, that 
 was associated in your inmost heart with every soft 
 and tender feeling, lightly discussed by others, and 
 summarily disposed of in this ofi'-hand manner, on 
 a mere impertinent assumption ? It was like a 
 sacrilegious invasion of a holy place, a ribald profa- 
 nation of the sanctuary. Treating with this matter- 
 of-fact and careless levity thoughts that lay too deep 
 for words, was a jarring insult to their depth, and as
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 229 
 
 offensive to the ear as some liglit tune would sound 
 amid the dim religious awe of deep cathedral aisles. 
 
 It was bad enough to hear Kathleen's name 
 mentioned in the light w^ay it had been, and to be 
 obliged to listen without protest, and suppress that 
 deeper interest which the others didn't know that 
 they w^ere outraging. But it put the finishing touch 
 to Terence's silent resentment and irritation to have 
 his success taken for granted, and to be reminded in 
 this way of the thorny obstacles which hindered the 
 consummation of his love. Besides, who had told 
 them that he was in love ? It was a pity people 
 couldn't mind tlieir own affairs, and leave other 
 people to mind theirs. If he was in love, it was 
 nobody's business but his own ; and he didn't intend 
 to acknowledge the fact to anybody but himself. He 
 wasn't going to have the subject made a matter for 
 light gossip among the neighbours. This was too 
 much for his manly dignity ; particularly when mar- 
 riage was out of the question, until he had some 
 means of keeping a wife in some sort of comfort. 
 He shouldn't think of it himself, and old Tliady, ho 
 knew, looked upon him with no great favour as a
 
 230 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 possible suitor for his daughter, and therefore he 
 would only become an object of sympathy, pitying, 
 and perhaps ironical sympathy, about the neighbour- 
 hood. This he never could brook. His love too — 
 for of course his love seemed stronger and deeper 
 than anybody else's — was no material for idle jests ; 
 nor was Kathleen, and she should not be put in the 
 way of them — " the darlin' girl that told me herself 
 she loved me, and wouldn't marry one else but 
 myself." 
 
 All which considerations made it very hard for 
 Terence to betray nothing more than a lover-like 
 confusion of speech at Kochfort's well-meant thrust ; 
 and he would have given anything now that they 
 had not been on their way to this pretty nook by the 
 loch, which he had been thinldng of so silently until 
 Glen Annagh was mentioned. He wouldn't have 
 been so forward now to suggest Thady O'Hara's 
 house. Besides, except that he would see her, what 
 enjoyment could there be in seeing her with other 
 people, when he wouldn't get a word to himself, and 
 her interest would be shared with others ? 
 
 Shirley looked at him with great interest now,
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 231 
 
 and Alan continued, — " This Lily of the Yalley, as 
 they call her, is a foster-sister of Nora's. Her father 
 used to be a tenant of mine, until he married his pre- 
 sent wife, and went to live among her people. She's 
 really a beauty, and not unlike Nora indeed, only 
 darker." 
 
 Shirley's interest was now thoroughly engaged, 
 and he stepped onward through the mist with 
 increased alacrity : over the top, and following the 
 course of the stream down into the valley the other 
 side, which, on a clear day was an idyll of mountain 
 scenery ; to-day, of course, it was merely a mist-trap, 
 and they plodded on through the splashing rain with- 
 out a glimpse to cheer the eye.
 
 232 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Mrs. O'Haea, the regnante Mrs. O'Hara, had been 
 what was called a woman of good family on Lord 
 Mountstewart's estate, had had her twelve cows 
 besides a good sum of money, and other articles, such 
 as beds and so forth, which go to make up a fortune ; 
 and Thady, who had been in poor enough circum- 
 stances at the time as a tenant at will on the 
 Geraldscourt property, had been thought a very lucky 
 man to pick up such a great match as Mary Mulligan 
 was known through the country to be. She herself 
 was among the number who thought him a lucky 
 man, and often told him so, when a matrimonial jar 
 required some such clencher to an otherwise feeble 
 argument. But, on the whole, she was a successful 
 speculation for an heiress, made him a very good 
 wife and excellent butter, was better than the ordinary 
 injusta novcrca to her step-children, and had her
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 233 
 
 kitchen and house a pattern of neatness and cleanli- 
 ness. To this house there were two chimneys ; the 
 roof was freshly thatched, the sash-windows neatly 
 painted, the walls dazzling with whitewash, and the 
 flags ahout the door shining with the rain now, hut 
 on other occasions with the hard labour of the servant 
 girl. The fowls were pecking about among the hay- 
 ricks which were in process of completion — it is said 
 that the Irish keep nothing but their hay for a rainy 
 day — and the pig and other beasts that were not 
 enjoying the weather in the open air, were in close 
 confinement in the surrounding outbuildings. A 
 pensive cat with its tail curled round its legs was 
 looking out upon the weather from the doorway, and 
 the inevitable cur-dog was creeping limply along the 
 causeway from the hay to join her. The house itself 
 was backed by a clump of natural wood with stretches 
 of green limestone land on either side, and below the 
 garden in front a pathway wound down past a group 
 of hawthorns into a little dell of hazels, which spread 
 away on either side the running stream to the rocky 
 shore of the loch. 
 
 The mist had lifted a little from the valley, and
 
 234 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 liung along tlie sides, making tlie dark woods of 
 Corracloon, that famous woodcock covert on the 
 further shore, loom out like a great dark blotch upon 
 the hillside, and giving a wild and gloomy look to 
 the Hanging Kock at the upper end, some two or three 
 miles away. There was little appearance of cultiva- 
 tion even on a bright day, when the mingled blue-green 
 of the fir-woods, the dark brown of the heather, the 
 sky-blue water of the loch, and the grey limestone 
 crags made up a lovely picture, which would only 
 have been spoilt by patches of corn, and attempts at 
 rude civilization. Teeming plenty, bounteous nature, 
 and so forth, are, no doubt, very stirring and sug- 
 gestive subjects for the imagination to dwell upon, 
 but Nature evidently intended that some spots should 
 not be invaded by the rude cultivating hand of man, 
 and rewards them when they do shear off her luxu- 
 riant tresses and plough furrows in her lovely face by 
 giving them small return for their ruthless labour. 
 She, at all events, can protest to some purpose against 
 the commercial spirit of the age, and teach the 
 unpoetic hearts of enterprising capitalists that every- 
 thing in this world is not to subserve the wretched
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 235 
 
 end of making money, — that tliere are mental and 
 sensuous wants to be satisfied, as well as corporeal 
 and sensual ones, and that lovers of beauty shall have 
 their share as well as lovers of money, and the selfish 
 ends which money serves. 
 
 However, if you like cultivation you get it, to a 
 certain extent, at Thady O'Hara's end of the loch ; 
 and if you pursue the lonely road along the shore till 
 you leave the valley at the same point as the river, you 
 will find cultivation to your heart's content — as com- 
 mercial gentleman, not agriculturist — fields cut up into 
 all sorts of patches, and potato plots, and ragged corn, 
 making quite the very most that is to be made out of 
 the soil : you will also find the remains, the very old 
 remains too, of a monastery of former days, and an 
 upright block of granite, called the Standing Stone by 
 the people of the neighbourhood, with a spring 
 coming out of the top, and regarded by them with 
 peculiar veneration. These things, however, arc 
 neither here nor there at the present moment ; at 
 least, they are not here, by this lake, which to-day you 
 might well suppose to be the owner of the gloomy 
 shore, which St. Kevin's swallow never warbled o'er ;
 
 236 TERENCE Mc GOWAN, 
 
 and therefore they are not so much to the point as 
 Mrs. O'Hara's neat figure bustling about her kitchen. 
 What a kitchen that was for an Irish kitchen ! — 
 plates, pots, pans, bowls, jugs, mugs, tubs, dishes, 
 everything speckless ; the rack arranged with scru- 
 pulous neatness ; churns and vessels with every sus- 
 picion of dirt scalded out of them, and as irreproachable 
 as Mrs. O'Hara's own white — what do you call those 
 things that come over the shoulders — tippet? No. But 
 what's in a name ? By any other name Mrs. O'Hara's 
 little cape would look as white, and she herself as 
 clean and neat and tight a little body. She has just 
 swept up an almost imaginary ash from the hearth, 
 and finding nothing to put into its place, she pauses 
 and watches Kathleen rolling into baking consistency 
 the materials of a future oat-cake. Mrs. O'Hara, as 
 we know, was not Kathleen's mother, but even a step- 
 mother could be proud of such a face and form as 
 that ! Rochfort was right : there was a resemblance 
 to Nora in many points, and not least in the blended 
 love and fire which her eyes expressed. But they were 
 almost black, and her hair and eyelashes of the same 
 glossy hue, and Nora's were only very dark brown.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 237 
 
 Kathleen's, in fact, was a pure Celtic beauty, and 
 her fine figure and graceful carriage she owed to the 
 same source. Talk of the air of a duchess ! there are 
 many duchesses who are obliged to give themselves 
 the airs which Nature has not conceded to their posi- 
 tion, who might be very proud indeed to have such a 
 dignity of carriage as Kathleen O'Hara's, or as many 
 another peasant girl in bare legs whom you may meet 
 on the roadside in the mountain districts of Ireland, 
 where the Celtic blood is less, if at all contaminated 
 with English. Most of the peasant girls unfortunately 
 spoil the appearance of their legs by toasting them 
 over the fire, but the ankles are not toasted out of their 
 original neat shape, as you may see by a casual glance 
 at Kathleen's. Not that I wish to engage your 
 interest for a pair of red legs in her case. Her legs 
 were not red, any more than a well-bred partridge's 
 are ; and it is a pity, perhaps, that the idea should 
 have been suggested, as I venture to hold, contrary to 
 the usage of great artists, that the introduction of a 
 negative antagonistic element into what is intended 
 to be a positive effect is a mistake. However, you 
 are to understand that bare feet arc not the normal
 
 238 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 condition of her understanding ; and it may be that, 
 independently of the weather, she has appeared in this 
 semi-dishabille from coquettish motives, that you may 
 see how small and neat a foot she has, and how 
 charming a tout ensemble the bare feet, thick quilted 
 petticoat, tight-fitting body, and bare arms make up 
 when surmounted by such a well-shaped, small, and 
 glossy head, and such soft features, long, dark lashes 
 covering deep unfathomable eyes, and a delicate lily- 
 white skin. Lily of the Valley might have suggested 
 itself as a name to less poetic minds than the Irish 
 peasant's, and poor Kathleen unconsciously had many 
 a fight to answer for among the susceptible boys of 
 that wild unsophisticated neighbourhood. But even 
 now, as she rolls out her lump of oaten dough, her 
 hands perform their duties mechanically, and her 
 thoughts are far away over the hills with her ovm 
 brave Terence, little thinking that at the moment he 
 was within a very short distance of her own door. 
 
 There were others in that kitchen besides 
 Kathleen and her stepmother. There was a boy 
 reading in a corner, '' the makin's of a priest ; " 
 there was the neatest and cleanest old grandmother
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 239 
 
 in a white cap, knitting near tlie fire, on a wliite- 
 scrubbed wooden chair — an old woman you would 
 have liked to make a picture of, particularly if you 
 happened to be a Dutchman ; and there were a 
 couple of half-brothers and sisters of Kathleen, 
 who divided their time between wistful glances at 
 the black pot on the fire, the oatcake in process of 
 formation, and the reading-books with which they 
 had lately returned from school. 
 
 On a sudden, one and all were brought to atten- 
 tion by an exclamation from the mistress of the 
 house, who moved rapidly from fire to door, and 
 then returned for a moment in a state of extreme 
 perturbation. " Praise be to God the house is 
 cleaned up ! Here's his lordship himself, with Mr. 
 Rochfort, and more, comin' down the very path." 
 
 There was no time for more ; the blood rushed 
 into Kathleen's cheeks ; the old woman even ceased 
 to commune with her knitting pins; the children 
 started up in a state of general excitement and 
 anticipation ; the embryo priest laid down his book, 
 and there was a general move to the door. 
 
 *'Your lordship's a hundred thousand welcomes
 
 240 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 — a hundred thousand welcomes," cried Mrs. 
 O'Hara, holding out her hand and curtseying ; 
 " and Mr. Eochfort too. Come in to the fire at 
 once now, for je must he lost with the wet;" and 
 she hacked through the curtseys and the staring 
 children behind; frowned an aside to the servant 
 girl, whose head was agog with curiosity out of the 
 bedroom door, and left Rochfort shaking hands with 
 Kathleen, who had got rid of the oatmeal off her 
 arms by some miraculously rapid sleight of hand, 
 while she placed two chairs by the fire for her dis- 
 tinguished guests. This was an event indeed : the 
 first time she had ever had the honour of seeing 
 any sign of the head landlord in her house. 
 
 " This is a wet day to pay you a visit, Mrs. 
 O'Hara," Shirley said, after shaking hands \Nith 
 the old lady of the knitting pins. 
 
 ^' It's dreadful weather for ye to be out in," she 
 replied. "It's well for ye if ye're the better after 
 this day. But I hope your lordship's gettin' your 
 health ; the people '11 be very wishful for \e, and 
 for the old gentleman too — God send him better! 
 and her ladyship ; I hope she's well ? "
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 241 
 
 Mrs. O'Hara made these observations with a 
 certain nervous rapidity, and scarcely waiting for 
 a reply, went on to ask if his lordship wouldn't take 
 something to eat and drink after the wetting he 
 must have got ; running over in her mind eagerly 
 at the same time what she could possibly offer him 
 that would be good enough : not a bit of white 
 bread or flesh meat in the house, and the butter 
 only churned that very morning, and not yet 
 made up. 
 
 "If I'd only known that your lordship was 
 coming, I'd have had the very best the country could 
 give for you," she said, after apologizing for the 
 anticipated deficiency of suitable food. 
 
 " Oh ! I think there's nothing like a good 
 potato," said Shirley ; " and you have some on the 
 fire this moment, I see," looking into the pot. 
 " Give us one or two of those, and a little milk, and 
 some of your excellent butter — I've heard of your 
 butter from Mr. Townsend (the agent)— and we shall 
 be very content." 
 
 " Indeed, I'd like to be putting something better 
 before such as you and Mr. Rochfort's honour," she 
 
 VOL. I. IG
 
 242 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 replied, looking into the pot to see liow far the 
 potatoes were from contributing their mealy presence 
 to the feast. "But when I had no word of 3'our 
 
 coming " and she left the sentence unfinished 
 
 to reach down a flitch of bacon from the chimney. 
 " Won't you take a seat by the fire, Mr. Eochfort ? 
 You must be drippin' wet with this day ; " and 
 Eochfort having thus been induced to terminate his 
 conversation with Kathleen, the latter was set 
 to work to finish her oatcake at once. A hurried 
 welcome was given to Terence and the others, who 
 were recommended to go and take an air of the fire ; 
 the awe- struck children were thrust to one side, and 
 dishes one after another brought down from the 
 rack, and laid upon the dresser. Molly was hurried 
 out for eggs, and the newest milk; the fire was 
 raked up for a rasher of bacon ; a bottle of whiskey 
 uncorked; and yet, notwithstanding her flurry of 
 preparation, the guests were not neglected by their 
 hostess, who kept up a locomotive fire of conversation 
 with them all the time. 
 
 "Where's Thady?" asked Shirley, presently. 
 
 " He's in the meadow, my lord, seein' after
 
 TEE IRISH TENANT. 243 
 
 the hay. Thomas, go tell your father that his 
 lordship is here, wantin' him. Quick, now ! ' ' 
 
 " That's a had day for the hay. Haven't you got 
 it all in yet?" 
 
 "Well, the throng of it, the most of it's in, my 
 lord," she answered, hending over the bacon; "but 
 there's a piece that wasn't saved yet, and it's like 
 to be not much use after this day's rain." 
 
 "No, indeed," rejoined Shirley, not thinking so 
 much about the hay, as about Kathleen, whose 
 movements he had been watching for the last few 
 moments. There certainly was a likeness. 
 
 Kathleen had only had time for one short look 
 to Terence, and was going about her work with a 
 vague delicious consciousness of his presence, which 
 made her forget the salt altogether. She had to 
 pass him now and then, and Terence felt her coming 
 as one feels a breath of summer softness fading past, 
 and leaving as it goes a longing sweet regi-et behind. 
 Her heightened colour was a sufficient index to her 
 thoughts without any spoken word, and like the 
 love-notes of the birds, their hearts made music to 
 each other in language intelligible to themselves
 
 244 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 alone, and all the sweeter from the consciousness 
 that it was shared by none beside. 
 
 The cake was put down to bake, other matters 
 were undertaken, and there was no time for talking. 
 The children whisper together in the corner ; the 
 men make remarks upon the weather ; Eochfort and 
 Shirley attempt to dry themselves at the fire, and 
 talk to each other, or Mrs. O'Hara ; and then Thady 
 himself enters, and creates a diversion. 
 
 He was an oldish man, in a frieze-coat and knee- 
 breeches and stockings, and a not very new hat. 
 That, however, did not prjsvent him from being one 
 of nature's gentlemen, and having a quiet dignity 
 far and away superior to anything the erected gentle- 
 men, w^ho have bought with their much money the 
 assumption of manners, can boast. But the 'Haras 
 were no new men, and pedigree certainly does seem 
 to make manners, if it is valueless in other respects. 
 From father to son they traced their descent from 
 ** The" O'Hara, whom Cromwell extinguished among 
 other L'ish chieftains; and from father to son the 
 reflection of mannered dignity had extended down 
 the line, and found its present resting-place in Thady
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 245 
 
 of that name. He did the honours of his house with 
 a simple courtesy that was in no way ohscured by the 
 steam rising from his saturated frieze ; and when the 
 various simphcity of fare had been done justice to, 
 he showed his guests over his farm just as a country 
 gentleman might take his friends to the stables or 
 the kennels, to profess a matter-of-course admiration 
 for his horses, or to be jumped upon by his dogs, or 
 to gaze in tedious ignorance upon fat cattle, which 
 he pokes with his stick, and declares to be very 
 good. 
 
 To be sure, Shirley had expressed a wish to see 
 the land, and as the rain had temporarily ceased, and 
 their road home lay across Thady's farm, they said 
 good-bye to their hostess, and set out with the re- 
 mainder of their followers; one having been despatched 
 to a neighbouring village to meet them with a car, iu 
 lieu of the dog-cart which had been left on the other 
 side. Rochfort stays behind for a moment to appoint 
 a day for Kathleen to come up and see her foster- 
 sister, who had been wondering why she had not 
 been over to Geraldscourt since they returned ; and 
 then he follows Shirley and his tenant, leaving
 
 M6 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 Kathleen looking wistfully after Terence, who has 
 only had possession of her hand for one short stolen 
 unseen moment, and who is now striding away with 
 the recollection of it in his heart, and unable to 
 resist one backward look to where she stands in the 
 background of heads which fills the doorway. 
 
 " That's a poor crop of oats," Shirley says, as 
 they pass a thin-looking field half laid with the rain. 
 " It ought to be good land, too." 
 
 " Well it is, a light crop enough," said O'Hara; 
 and it would have surprised anybody else but himself 
 if it had not been a light crop, seeing that it was the 
 third year of oats in the same ground. Next year it 
 would have a crop of flax ; and then it would pro- 
 bably be " let out " for meadow, — that is, it would be 
 levelled to a certain extent, and told that grass was 
 now expected from it. In time the grass would 
 appear of its own accord, in company with a luxuriant 
 growth of weeds ; which may be insured almost any- 
 where in Ireland from the spontaneous fertility of 
 the soil. 
 
 This was the method of husbandry which Thady 
 O'Hara was satisfied with. His father before him
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 247 
 
 had been satisfied with the same, and why not he ? 
 His father had taken hay off some part of his 
 land for twenty years consecutively, and when the 
 land would give it, why should he not do the same ? 
 The old way was good enough for him, and for scores 
 of others in the same position. 
 
 Shirley went on to remark that he saw very little 
 corn at all in the country to what he should have 
 expected ; and Thady rejoined that there was fully 
 less oats since five-and-twenty years. The climate 
 had changed, it was sure then ; there were late frosts ; 
 and now there was no labour. 
 
 " They tried every shift after '46, '47, and '48, 
 and it failed them ; and now the chaps '11 just hire 
 out to a farmer for a year, to get the price o' their 
 passage, and then just skirt away to America or 
 England : and a man '11 have to pay very high to get 
 labour at all these times. There isn't as much corn 
 in the country as 'ud feed the fowls of it, and they'll 
 be swoppin' with other to get in the crop at all ; 
 whereas if a man has a bit o' meadow, he'll get 
 the price of it without puttin' his hand in his 
 pocket."
 
 248 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 Thady O'Hara, and others of a like agricultural 
 habit, usually pasturing their meadows in the early 
 part of the summer, the price of them was not con- 
 siderable, and the produce, which by this means was 
 not realized in hay until September, October, and 
 even November, stood a veiy poor chance of coming 
 to the cattle's mouths in any sort of fattening con- 
 dition. 
 
 '^ Is this the bit of marsh land that Mr. Townsend 
 was talking to me about ? " asked Shirley, pointing 
 to a rushy-looking swamp, three or four acres in 
 extent, over which the flooded stream was doing a 
 little natural irrigation. "And these are the banks, 
 I suppose, that he wanted to level at the same 
 time ? " 
 
 "Well, he was talking about that at one time, 
 your lordship. He was saying that it 'ud be the 
 better for draining." 
 
 " Why, of course it would, and levelling those 
 banks would give you another half acre of land, at 
 least. I would do it myself, and charge you a per- 
 centage on the outlay, only that I have so many 
 expenses on hand at present : ever^-thing cannot be
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 249 
 
 done at the same time. Why don't you do it your- 
 self? It would pay you six or seven per cent. You're 
 a rich man, and I believe he offered you a lease." 
 
 " Oh, he did then, surely ; but, indeed, I know 
 your lordship won't turn me out." And Thady, 
 moreover, knew that a lease meant conditions which 
 would not suit his present treatment of the land ; 
 and being, like most of his class in these backward 
 districts, a creature of prejudice, he preferred to hold 
 at will and bind himself to nothing. 
 
 The Irish farmer entering upon a lease does not 
 deliberately intend to hreak his covenants ; when he 
 does so, and that, occurs often enough, he does it in 
 the natural course of careless or prejudiced habit. 
 
 In another point Thady resembled his fellows, in 
 thinking, or not thinking at all, but tacitly assuming 
 within himself that the existing regime was to last for 
 ever, and that because he was well treated, fairly 
 rented, and had confidence in his present landlord, 
 and the traditional feeling which subsisted between 
 them, and had subsisted between the family and his 
 own for long years, that there would be a continuance 
 of the same for ever, and that, therefore, he had no
 
 250 TEEENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 reason to secure himself against any possible change 
 of rule in the future. Looking forward is not natural 
 or usual to his indolent, improvident mind, and there- 
 fore he is not half so troubled by the feeling of in- 
 security as rhetorical Commissioners think fit to 
 assume? (2) 
 
 " Of course I shall not turn you out," said 
 Shirley ; " but that's all the more reason why you 
 should put your capital into the land and get a good 
 return for it when you have such an opportunity. I 
 only offer you a lease to guarantee you the profits 
 until you have been repaid for the expenditure." 
 
 " Well, I'll think about it, your lordship. But, 
 indeed, I haven't the money to do it, I'm afeard " — 
 or, in other words — " I prefer making other uses of 
 it, either letting it lie idle in the bank, or lending it 
 out in small sums at interest to the neighbours ; " 
 for Thady had put together a good couple of hundred 
 pounds, in one way or another, with the profits which 
 he managed to make out of his curious system of 
 farming, and his wife's butter ; which was the produce 
 of at least a third more head of cattle than the land 
 could properly hold. It was partly, of course, the
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 251 
 
 love of acciimnlatiDg money, wliicli no security of 
 tenure will eradicate, and partly, perhaps, a reflection 
 of that vague impression of an unsettled state of 
 things and of impending change in the social rela- 
 tions of the country, which made Thady reluctant to 
 put his money into drains and get it back by yearly 
 instalments. But there was a worthier motive, as 
 well, for his saving tendencies. He was proud and 
 fond of Kathleen, ' and determined that she should 
 have a fortune worthy of her name, and a husband 
 w^orthy of her fortune ; and it was for her chiefly, 
 that he might give her a marriage-portion w^iich 
 would do him credit, that he hoarded up his capital, 
 and made Shirley wonder at the apathy and hesita- 
 tion which he evinced in profiting by an offer so 
 manifestly to his advantage. He set it down to 
 the common love of hoarding amongst the smaller 
 farmers, and went on to remark upon the prevalence 
 of rushes in some other fields adjoining. 
 
 " That's not mine at all," said O'Hara. 
 
 "Whose is it, then?" 
 
 " He's one Nolan, your lordship." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Shirley, " is that Nolan's land ? Of
 
 252 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 course, — I forgot that it adjoined 3'ours. By the 
 way," he continued, turning to Kochfort, "I quite 
 forgot to tell you a piece of news which Terence here 
 gave me this morning. This is our sedition-monger 
 of last night, by all appearance," and he related their 
 joint reasons for supposing him to be so. 
 
 " Well, there's a bad man in his coat, any way," 
 said Thady. 
 
 " Is he at home, do you know ? " asked Shirle}-. 
 
 '' He is not at home these two days." 
 
 " If circumstantial evidence is any use at all, he 
 is the man, then. It's lucky for him he has a lease, 
 that's all I can say. Look at that land, there's an 
 instance of the advantage of a lease," Shirley added, 
 turning to Rochfort. *' Did you ever see such a con- 
 dition for a man to have good land in ? He's the most 
 worthless, unimproving tenant I have, I believe." 
 
 '' He's rich enough too," said O'Hara, " and he'll 
 be boastin' that the expenses of the lawsuit he lost 
 the other day against your lordship didn't hurt him 
 at all ; though, indeed, it would be a big loss to a 
 poor man. But he has only himself to keep now, 
 since he turned the old mother out of doors ; and
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 253 
 
 not a much he'll care, as long as he'll get whiskey 
 for himself and his friends at his own house there 
 above." 
 
 " Those that make trouble will get trouble," said 
 Shirley. " If a tenant behaves himself as he ought, 
 he'll never have reason to complain of bad treatment 
 on this estate ; but men like Nolan will find they'll 
 get the worst of it in the end, if they attempt to fight 
 their landlord, and so, if they take my advice they 
 won't try it." 
 
 " He's a disagreeable neighbour, then, as any in 
 Ireland," said O'Hara, illustrating the assertion by 
 some recent altercation which he had had with him 
 in reference to a pass through his land. " But when 
 I saw he was on for contrairiness, I just quit it, and 
 let him have his way, sooner nor be takin' the law 
 of him. I never was in a petty sessions court in the 
 whole course o' my life, and I'd think any man 
 should have the wit to keep out of it when he can." 
 
 This opinion, however, has generally to be 
 acquired by experience among the Irish peasantry ; 
 for though they have a general dislike to law, 
 founded on its former association with oppression,
 
 254 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 yet they are glad enough to make use of it against 
 each other when it is brought within their reach : 
 but just as they do with their popular idols, directly it 
 begins to tell against them, or offends a prejudice, 
 they will turn round upon it, and cry tyranny and 
 oppression, as loudly as they had extolled it the 
 moment before. 
 
 "1 wonder if Mr. Brady got his bill paid?" 
 said Shirley. 
 
 "Well, I can't say. It's likely not, for he'll 
 be back and for'ard different times since ; and 
 comin' down to my house too, where he should 
 have the sense to know that neither him nor any 
 of his sort'll be too welcome." 
 
 "Do 5'ou hear of many going to vote for his 
 father at the election ? " 
 
 " Oh ! sorra one off this estate, except it'll be 
 Dan Nolan here, for it's not too much good-will he 
 bears your lordship now." 
 
 " Hasn't the priest been talking to them ? " 
 
 " He has been back and for'ard. But what of 
 that? Sure a man wouldn't go vote against his 
 own landlord, I suppose ? "
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 255 
 
 " There are some that would." 
 " Oh ! well they're queer fellows then." 
 ''You're not one of them, at all events ? " 
 "Is it I? Your lordship might know well 
 enough that that wouldn't be my way." 
 
 *' Well, make them all think the same ; and now 
 we needn't be taking you any farther ; 3-ou've got 
 plenty to do at home, I dare say, and that excellent 
 wife of yours will be getting anxious for you. Good- 
 bye, and many thanks for all the good things you 
 gave us. 
 
 "I'm only sorry, then, we couldn't offer you 
 better," said Thady, taking off his hat, and wishing 
 them good-night, and safe home." 
 
 " It'll be dark night before we get back to 
 Geraldscourt," said Eochfort, as they walked rapidly 
 along the road to the turn where the car was to meet 
 them. The evening was coming on already, and 
 deepening the misty twilight. The rain had ceased, 
 but the roads were in floods ; the stacks of corn along 
 the fields presented a dark and dreary appearance ; 
 lowlands were under water with the overflow of moun- 
 tain streams, and stockingless men and haudker-
 
 256 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 chiefed women were busy carrying their hay through 
 the flood to rising grounds where it would not be 
 floated away. Draggled-looking girls were hurrying 
 homewards with their petticoats over their heads, and 
 their brogues in their hands, -pee-ping out from eyelet- 
 holes like eastern houris ; men came steaming past 
 in blue-tailed damp, dropping a moist curtsey as they 
 went ; and carts were squelching through the mud in 
 a very rude and splotchy way, which even irritated an 
 old beggar-woman in a long man's coat, who had 
 been going from house to house, getting contributions 
 to the bag upon her back, and whose eye one of these 
 jangling carts had invaded with a plug of washy dirt. 
 
 The turn came dimly in sight and the car was 
 w^aiting, with Owen standing talking to the driver. 
 
 ''Hallo, Barney, it's you, is it?" exclaimed 
 Kochfort. *' You got home safe then last night ? " 
 
 "What 'ud ail me, your honour, with the purty 
 moon there was ? " 
 
 " That's a soft evening." 
 
 "Begob, it was a wild day for the mountain. 
 There fell a power o' rain since mornin'. I'd like to be 
 drowned gettin' this far, with the floods that's in it."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 257 
 
 '' Well, hurry now, and get these grouse into 
 the well, and we'll make a start, for it '11 be just 
 late enough on us before we're home." 
 
 " What '11 you do with the dogs, Pat ? " 
 
 '' Oh ! I'll travel it, your honour." 
 
 " Well, Owen '11 leave you down a piece any way. 
 Jump up, Terence, alongside of Barney there. You 
 have a long way to go." 
 
 Terence did as he was told, nothing loth. The 
 grouse were stowed away, the guns laid along at the 
 back, and they splashed away into the growing night, 
 followed by God speeds and good wishes for their 
 safety from Pat and his companion. 
 
 " Well," said Rochfort, after they had settled 
 themselves into tolerable comfort, ''we've had pre- 
 cious little shooting for all the driving we've done to- 
 day ; we must have another try to-morrow." 
 
 Shirley, with his experience of the day, said he 
 should like it above all things, but positively he 
 hadn't time to throw away. 
 
 " There are some of your men, you say, I ought 
 to see, and if Brady has fellows like Nolan going 
 about the country trpng bribery and corruption, I 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 expect there'll be a lot more to look after. It doesn't 
 do to be slack wben the other side are working as 
 they are. At the end of the week, too, I have to be 
 at Kilmorris, for the meeting there." 
 
 "Well, I'd sooner be shooting grouse than 
 making speeches any day, for hang me if I see the 
 fun of being pelted with rotten eggs and hooted by 
 Radical mobs. But there's no accounting for tastes, 
 and you like it, I suppose, or you wouldn't do it. 
 I dare say there's some excitement about it too. By 
 the way, I wonder if that worthy tenant of yours has 
 been heard of?" 
 
 "I'm sayin', Barney; did you hear any word? — 
 stop, though, of course you would not : never mind 
 this time ;" and in deference to Terence's feelings the 
 question was dropped. Barney, however, ere long 
 brought up the subject to Terence on his own account, 
 and asked whether it was true what they were saying, 
 that Larry had beaten the life out of a man for call- 
 ing him a friend of ould Johnny's ? 
 
 " Ah ! don't be talkin,' man," rejoined Terence ; 
 "if he did catch the fellow a rap with his stick, it 
 wasn't for that at all, but for wantin' to buy votes
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 259 
 
 with Brady's dirty money ; and I'll engage lie got no 
 more than what was his due, the sneakin' ruffian ! " 
 
 He then proceeded to give a full and particular 
 account of the whole transaction, which exonerated 
 Larry from all blame — if, indeed, he was implicated 
 in it at all — and made the quasi pedlar a very proper 
 subject for such summary castigation as had been 
 inflicted. 
 
 Barney ceased to rattle voluble encouragement 
 to his horse, and intermitted temporarily the flow of 
 strange sounds with which he stimulated its reluctant 
 energies, in order that he might give his whole 
 attention to a narrative which would retail to such 
 advantage over a noggin on his return. As darkness 
 had now fairly set in and a blinding rain had com- 
 menced, this transference of attention was inconvenient 
 to say the least of it ; and they proceeded in a very 
 wobbly kind of way for several minutes, until, just as 
 Shirley was going to suggest that he had had a much 
 closer view than he cared for of the ditch on that side, 
 there was a sound of approaching wheels, a shout, a 
 rattle, dash, bang, and they were brought up with a 
 violent jar and an execration, which was followed by
 
 260 TERENCE MCGOWAX, 
 
 the noise of a falling something, and each of the 
 colliding parties jumped down at once to ahuse each 
 other, and quiet their frightened horses. 
 
 ** Tare an' ages, man," exclaimed Barney, to a 
 scarcely seen individual who w^as on his legs in his 
 immediate neighbourhood, '' is that any way to be 
 drivin' on such a night ? Maybe you think a man's 
 legs was only made to be whipped off him, that 
 ye're for runnin' him down in that fashion, with- 
 out askin' a word of his leave?" 
 
 " Maybe you think the same yourself, Bernard 
 O'Toole ? " answered a thick, angry voice through the 
 dark, and Barney shrank within himself as he 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " Oh ! by the powers, it's Father Maguire him- 
 self." 
 
 '' Oh ! your riverence," he resumed rapidly, '' if 
 I'd only known, you wouldn't have doDe it— indeed, 
 you would not ; and what '11 we do now ? " 
 
 Kochfort here came forward, and said, " This is 
 an unlucky accident. Father Maguire : I don't know 
 whose fault it was, but I hope you haven't suffered any 
 damaGfe."
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 261 
 
 *' Yes, sir, we have suffered considerable damage; 
 the step of our car has been torn completely off, and 
 it is a mercy Mr. Brady's legs didn't follow it. It's 
 very easy to know who is to blame. It's the man 
 wiio drives in the middle of the road, sir, on a dark 
 night, instead of keeping to his proper side." 
 
 Rochfort might have felt inclined to resent this 
 authoritative and somewhat discourteous imputation 
 of the whole fault ; but Mr. Brady ! whew-w-w, and 
 he gave a long internal whistle, as he thought with a 
 chuckle what an excellent story would go the rounds 
 of the county next day, when it was heard that the 
 rival candidates had had a collision on the road. 
 The irritation which the priest's tone might have 
 aroused was entirely allayed by the consideration of 
 the deliciously comic element in the business ; and 
 it was with the greatest difficulty he could prevent the 
 laughter oozing out as he replied that he believed 
 they were on their own side ; Mr. Brady, he hoped, 
 wasn't hurt, and so forth. 
 
 Would Shirley remain in the darkness, he won- 
 dered ; perhaps it would be better. Brady's legs 
 nearly carried away, by all that's holy ! — if this
 
 262 TEEENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 wasn't the best thing he ever knew ! and as he 
 moved forward to inspect the damage done and offer 
 assistance, he was convulsed with a secret delight, 
 which the darkness happily concealed. Shirle}^, how- 
 ever, did not remain in the dark, but came forward 
 also ; feeling much more annoyed than amused at the 
 unlucky chance which had brought them into such 
 an awkward position, and knowing that, in all proba- 
 bility, it would be made the most of, and ascribed to 
 deliberate malice, as the other party had come off the 
 worst. 
 
 *' Lord Shirley, eh ? " ejaculated Father Maguire, 
 sharply and shortly, to nobody in particular, as he 
 caught the sound of his name ; and his anger was not 
 diminished by the knowledge that the man whom he 
 had been denouncing from successive platforms was 
 one of the offending party. In daylight he was a burly 
 bully of a man, this Father Maguire, but on a dark 
 road he was nothing but an unpleasant coarse utter- 
 ance ; and Shirley, without taking any notice of him, 
 sauntered on after Rochfort, intending to make his 
 presence known, but to stand aloof and take a silent 
 part in the proceedings.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 263 
 
 Terence, too, after acknowledging his priest, and 
 getting an angry " You among them, too ! " from 
 him, had also moved down the road, followed by his 
 reverence, to where, not old Johnny, as it turned 
 out, but Mr. Brady, junior, was groping about with 
 very sore knees for his lost step. It certainly must 
 be a very unpleasant thing to have your legs half 
 carried away, and Mr. Brady junior might almost 
 be excused for the surly attitude which he assumed 
 when assistance was offered, and he found out to 
 whom he was indebted for his mishap. 
 
 ^^ Oh ! it's you, Mr. Brady, is it ? " said Rochfort, 
 when he came up, in quite a disappointed tone. " I 
 thought it was your father," and the damper which 
 the discovery caused to his mirthful anticipations 
 prevented him at first from offering much commise- 
 ration, since it was not the man he had prepared 
 himself to commiserate. 
 
 "Ah! you did, did you? and I daresay you'd 
 have been very glad if it had been," muttered Brady 
 to himself, recognizing Rochfort's voice ; which ho 
 had heard pretty often in those petty sessions courts 
 which he dehghted to infest.
 
 264 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 " Yes, it is me, Mr. Roclifort, if that's you," he 
 said aloud, in a rich brogue, '• and I'd as soon it was 
 anybody else had the legs I have on me now ; and here's 
 a new car, that cost me twenty pounds not six months 
 ago, broken into pieces. Hell take such work ! What 
 business has a man on the road at all, if he can't be 
 • satisfied with his own share of it ? " 
 
 "Well, really, I'm very sorry for the damage 
 done to your car," said Rochfort, " but I'm not sure 
 that we are a bit more to blame than you are." 
 
 " Ah ! don't I tell you that the man was driving 
 in the very middle of the road," returned Brady, who 
 had now found his step, and was conveying it back to 
 the dilapidated car ; '' only that we nearly drove into 
 the ditch to get out of your Avay, he'd have been on 
 the very top of us. It's easy to know what it was 
 done for," he added, in an only half- aloud tone. 
 
 Rochfort made allowances for his natural irrita- 
 tion, and told Terence to go and see if he could do 
 anything towards putting the pieces together again. 
 
 Terence knew Brady, but Brady, never having 
 had any dealings with Terence, who was not a 
 frequenter of courts, did not know him, and might
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 265 
 
 therefore naturally have been surprised if he could 
 have seen the look of vindictive hatred and joy at his 
 misfortune which Terence's countenance betrayed at 
 this moment. If there was one man in the world for 
 whom he was disinclined to do a service, that man 
 was young Brady, and he very soon found out that 
 there was nothing to be done but drive on as best he 
 could without his step. 
 
 " There '11 be no mendin' done at that, till it 
 goes back to where it come from," he said in a tone 
 which was certainly not a compassionate or soothing 
 one. 
 
 *'Here, get out of my way," said Brady, im- 
 patiently, "and if you're the man that done it, you 
 may bless yourself that you're in the company you 
 are, or I'll lay my life my whip 'ud have been across 
 your face before now, j^ou rascal, you." 
 
 " What's that ye're sayin', Mr. Brady ? " asked 
 Terence, quickly. 
 
 The remark, however, was not repeated, Mr. 
 Brady moving in silence to his horse's head, and 
 busying himself with a rearrangement of disordered 
 harness.
 
 266 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 Piochfort had moTocl back a few paces to where 
 the priest, since he discovered that Shirley was of 
 the party, had remained standing, ^nth his arms 
 folded, wrapped np in so stern a dignity as to be 
 quite unconscious that, owing to the disadvantageous 
 circumstance of surrounding darkness, his attitude 
 was creating an impression upon no one but himself. 
 Feeling that whoever might be in fault, — probably 
 both were, — that 3-et the others were the sufierers, 
 an expression of regretful sympathy at least would be 
 becoming and polite, Eochfort thought, and he there- 
 fore proceeded to offer himself to Father Maguire for 
 a rude rebuff ; leaving Terence and Brady to cement 
 the cordial feelings which already existed between 
 them, derived from a real or mistaken sense of injury 
 on the one side and the other. Finding that Brady 
 did not repeat his former hypothetic threat, Terence 
 strode after him to the horse's head, and gripping 
 him by the arm in a very unpleasant manner, — for it 
 was very dark, and Brady's previous excitement 
 cooled away at once under the disagreeable surprise 
 created by such an unexpected proceeding on the 
 part of a very big man whom he had never seen
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 2G7 
 
 before to his knowledge, — gripping him by the arm, 
 as we said, in a very startling and blood-cooling 
 manner, which made him regret his previous remark 
 very sincerely, Terence hammered into his ear the 
 following rapidly whispered and emphatic words : — 
 " See now, Mr. Brady, you dar' to call me a rascal, 
 do you? you — ye thievin' blackguard! and you talk 
 about la}^n' your whip about me, do you ? Take care 
 o' yourself now% I just advise je: take care of j^our- 
 self ! That's not the only score I have agen you, 
 and, only for his riverence and the gentlemen here, 
 I'd not leave a whole bone in your body this instant, 
 so I wouldn't. Just take my advice now, and quit 
 your followin' after Kathleen O'Hara down in Glen 
 Annagh, that ye're not fit so much as look at, or 
 my name's not what it is if you'll not rue the day : 
 mind that now!" 
 
 The approach of the priest put an end to any 
 further continuance of this muttered threat, and 
 released Brady from the exceedingly uncomfortable 
 mental and physical position in which, for the pre- 
 vious moment or two, he had been placed. Who was 
 this man ? what an unlucky speech that was he had
 
 268 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 made ; and the surprise with which he had turned to 
 receive the explosion he had unconsciously produced, 
 gave way, on his arm heing relinquished, to a gene- 
 rally apprehensive sensation which prevented him from 
 getting out a word in reply. Terence, meanwhile, 
 moved off in obedience to Rochfort's summons ; 
 Shirley had already returned to their own car, and 
 their offers of assistance and condolence being so 
 surlily entertained, they thought it no use to remain 
 standing any longer in the pelting rain, when the 
 sacrifice of their time and comfort was not appre- 
 ciated, and drove off accordingly ; congratulating 
 themselves that their step had been the strongest of 
 the two, recommending Barney to look where he was 
 driving for the rest of the way, instead of talking ; 
 enjoying the evidently uncomfortable silence of the 
 priest, and wondering what use he would make of 
 the occurrence on his next appearance at the head of 
 a hooting mob. 
 
 " Who was that great hulking fellow with them?" 
 asked Brady, when they had got under weigh again 
 at last, presenting to the owls and bats a lopsided 
 winged appearance, very similar in effect to the
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 269 
 
 single liorse return of a two horse veliicle from the 
 coachmaker's, or from tJie scene of a street-accident, 
 as the case may he. 
 
 " Terence Mc Gowan," answered the priest 
 shortly, his thoughts still occupied with the late 
 scene ; in which he was not quite sure whether he 
 had played his part with the effect he intended, and 
 asserted his sense of superiority and contempt as 
 plainly as became a popular leader before men 
 whose presence he couldn't help feeling, however 
 much he ignored or resisted the subtle conscious- 
 ness which marred his confidence, and strengthened 
 his aversion. - 
 
 " Oh, that was Terence Mc Gowan, was it ? " said 
 Brady ; and he too relapsed into silence, and for a 
 time the sound of the beating rain, and the splashing 
 of the wheels, had the darkness to themselves.
 
 270 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Shirley lias gone to Kilmorris to face another mob, 
 and drown dull care in the whirl of political excite- 
 ment ; nothing more has been heard of the myste- 
 rious pedlar, except that Nolan is laid up at home 
 from the effects of a bad fall ; Larry Mc Gowan is 
 out on bail, and has received Terence's opinion of 
 his general mode of life, persistently denying having 
 had any hand in the lynching of the pedlar, and 
 knowing nothing at all about him, or the rumours 
 connected with his identity, further than a very 
 furtive wink to a very intimate friend ; Barney has 
 told the story of the collision to every one in the 
 county, embellished with an infinity of humorous 
 detail, suggested by an unbridled fancy, and re- 
 dounding as much to his own credit as to the ridicu- 
 lousness of the priest and the attorney ; Father
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 271 
 
 Maguire has made fresh capital out of it to point 
 his florid denunciation of greedy landlords who want 
 to ride down everybody, and have the road all to 
 themselves ; Rochfort is gone to Dublin to talk to 
 the authorities about a reinforcement of military ; 
 Lady Eleanor is driving about the country canvassing 
 with all her energy, and has this morning started 
 early on a long expedition to secure the Castle Talbot 
 interest ; and, company being no necessity to her, she 
 has left Nora behind to wander out on to the terrace 
 with a book after luncheon, and close her eyes and 
 dream, or gaze with an absent interest at the clear 
 outline of the opposite hill, where the grey-white 
 rocks are standing out from the brown heather 
 against a rich background of deepest blue. 
 
 There is a clear stillness in the air, and the river 
 breaks upon the ear with a fresh, laughing, indepen- 
 dent sound, and that little cottage of Pat Connor's in 
 the wood below seems at this distance a model of 
 simple rural peace. On a nearer view this illusion 
 would have been dispelled by a grunting pig and 
 several squalling children. As a distant feature, 
 however, it fitted into the landscape very well indeed,
 
 272 TERENCE Mc GOWAN, 
 
 and gave, unconsciously, a meaning to it all, beyond 
 the mere attractions it presented to the eye ; filling 
 the mind with an unacknowledged sense of life and 
 nature blending into one harmonious beauty, larger, 
 wider far than the narrow scene within the view, 
 which was but an index to the thought. 
 
 A step on the gravel before the door attracted 
 Nora's notice, and a moment after she had risen and 
 was advancing to meet Kathleen O'Hara, W'ho came 
 towards her with sparkling pleasure lighting up her 
 eyes, and a modestly respectful familiarity of bearing 
 that was infinitely taking. 
 
 *' Why, Kathleen, I thought you had forgotten 
 me altogether," said Nora, holding out her hand 
 with an afi'ectionate look of welcome ; which was 
 entirely familiar, and yet so indefinably interfused 
 with a tempering graciousness, an unconscious recol- 
 lectedness of the difference between their respective 
 ranks, that a person would have needed to be very 
 much more presumptuously inclined than modest 
 Kathleen to make it a foundation for undue fami- 
 liarity, or a permission for unbecoming freedom in 
 manner or address.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 273 
 
 '' Ah ! Miss Nora, you wouldn't think I'd be 
 likely to do that," answered Kathleen, in a clear 
 musical voice and deprecatory tone, setting off to 
 the greatest advantage the naive modulations of the 
 Irish accent, which sounds so charming and piquant 
 in the mouth of a pretty woman. An accent, jou 
 must understand, is not a brogue. There is nothing 
 vulgar in an accent, particularly when accompanied 
 by beauty ; but a brogue, don't talk of it ! 
 
 " Well, you were so long in coming to see me, 
 that I couldn't account for it in any other way," 
 Nora continued, with a smile. 
 
 It was a long" way to come, and not easy to get 
 away, there was so much to do about the house, 
 Kathleen said, or she would have been the first to 
 welcome her home. 
 
 "Of course. I know I'm very unreasonable," 
 Nora said. " But now you are here, come and tell 
 me all about yourself ; come down into the garden : 
 but perhaps you're tired ; won't you have anything to 
 eat first?" 
 
 Not a bit Kathleen wanted, she had had her 
 dinner before leaving the house. 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 274 TEEE^XE MC GOWAX, 
 
 " Come along, then," said Nora ; and she clasped 
 her hands behind her back, and strolled away "vvith 
 Kathleen by her side, forgetting to be shy in an- 
 swering all the questions which Xora put with that 
 intent. 
 
 It was a pity Kathleen had not been bom a lady ; 
 and yet I don't see why one class should have 
 a monopoly of beauty: if Kathleen had not been a 
 peasant girl, we should only have had one more 
 beauty to swell the Hst who claim our monotonous 
 admiration ; and the lovers of the picturesque who 
 penetrated to these mountain wilds would have had 
 a certain loss. Xobody, of course, could help ad- 
 miring and almost loving Xora Rochfort at first 
 sight ; but see her now, with Kathleen's unsophis- 
 ticated natural charm of face and figure by her side, 
 and the eye seems to dwell with a keener sense of 
 pleasure on the simple mountain girl : possibly be- 
 cause novelty is always attractive, and such beauty 
 in such garb is a rare surprise. If Kathleen had 
 started upon equal terms with her foster-sister, if 
 her lot had been to lounge gracefully back in a car- 
 riage behind powder and wig, instead of spoiling her
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 275 
 
 hands and arms by making oatmeal cakes and 
 milking cows in every sort of weather, there is not 
 the slightest doubt but what she would have been 
 able to compete with her upon equal terms at least ; 
 and the mental accomplishments of music, Italian, 
 and drawing which she would have acquired would, 
 of course, have amply compensated for any physical 
 deterioration, and the absence of that healthful 
 stamina which now enabled her to walk six or eight 
 miles with a basket of eggs and butter on her arm, 
 and think nothing of the prospect of doing the same 
 distance again before nightfall. 
 
 When Nora was young, and Thady O'Hara still 
 a tenant of her father's, Kathleen used often to be 
 sent for when Gerald was at school, as a sort of 
 playmate for her ; and her manners and appear- 
 ance as a child were so engaging that teaching 
 her to do fine work, or other accomplishments of 
 the kind which should some day qualify her as a 
 maid for Miss Nora, was undertaken spontaneously 
 by the old housekeeper, and prosecuted with most 
 promising assiduity; until Thady took to himself 
 another wife, and migrated soon after to Lord
 
 276 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 Mountstewart's estate. The project of lady's-maid 
 had heen mooted more than once since that time, 
 but old Thady was fond and selfish, and couldn't 
 bear to part with his daughter, now that he had the 
 means of keeping her in tolerable comfort ; besides, 
 to his independent Irish spirit there was something 
 rather infra dig. about going out to service, and his 
 daughter was not goiug to do what none of her name 
 had ever done before, even though they might have 
 overstocked the land and house with hungry mouths 
 in preference. Kathleen, therefore, remained at 
 home, to roam at will upon her native hills, to look 
 into her mountain lochs and see that she was fair, 
 and to receive the ardent love of peasant boys, instead 
 of learning to imitate the refinement of her mistress 
 for the artificial and vapid admiration of the servants' 
 hall. 
 
 Nora had already made allusion to the subject of 
 her love, which she had heard about from her father, 
 and was drawing out Kathleen's blushing confidence 
 with the congenial sympathy of a sister ; and of a 
 sister who had a more than ordinary stimulus to 
 find that topic a pleasant and engaging one.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 277 
 
 " You know, Kathleen, you are to have no secrets 
 from me," she said, with a playful imperiousness. 
 " Papa has told me all about it, and I'm sure I wish 
 you all the happiness in the world," and she accom- 
 panied the wish with a very inconsistent sigh. 
 
 Kathleen was still a little reticent ; with all 
 Nora's w^omanly tact and desire to meet her only 
 on that common ground on which the woman was 
 supreme, Kathleen could not altogether forget that 
 she was not talking to an equal, and she blushed 
 again with happy love and bashful diffidence as Nora 
 went on. 
 
 " You know we all like him so much. Papa says 
 he is the cleverest man on the property, and grand- 
 mamma always sends for him when she wants any- 
 thing particular done. And he's so handsome, too : 
 I don't know anybody about here who can come up to 
 him at all ; and I'm sure he'll be a good husband." 
 
 Kathleen listened with beaming pleasure to 
 Terence's praises, but when the word husband was 
 mentioned her countenance fell a little as she said, — 
 " He's very proud. Miss Nora : he wouldn't ask to 
 marry me, he says, until he could do it with a bit of
 
 278 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 laud and a house of his owu to bring me to ; and I'm 
 afeard my father isn't too pleased at all to see us 
 together. But, indeed, then it's himself is the only 
 one ever I'll marry, if they were coming in scores to 
 ask me. Isn't he brave and handsome now ? doesn't 
 he bate them all in this country ? and if you'd know 
 the tenderness of him, with all his fine big strength ! " 
 — here she broke off abruptly, the recollection being 
 beyond expression. 
 
 "But, Kathleen," said Nora, "couldn't this be 
 managed somehow ? I'm sure papa would give him 
 a farm." 
 
 " Oh, if he would do that ! " Kathleen exclaimed. 
 
 "I'm sure he would if he knew he wanted one," 
 pursued Nora, under the impression apparently that 
 there was a reserve of farms kept vacant for any one 
 who wanted to make a choice. " I'll speak to him 
 about it directly he comes home ; he's away now in 
 Dublin." 
 
 " Don't be tellin' him that it was I was speaking 
 about it. Miss Nora," Kathleen said, after a pause, 
 in a beseeching apprehensive tone. " There's not 
 one but yourself that I'd have said one word to on
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 279 
 
 the head of it, and, maybe, you think I said more 
 nor what I ought ; but I love him so much I'd go 
 through the whole country and beg if need be, so 
 as it might be with him. God send you may have 
 as brave a lover yourself some day." 
 
 The tears rose to her eyes, and prevented her 
 from noticing the expression on Nora's face ; and 
 there was another pause, until Nora replied, in a 
 saddened tone, "You may depend upon me. 
 I'll not misuse your confidence, and you may 
 be sure I'll do what I can for you." If I can't be 
 happy myself, I can try to make somebody else 
 so, was the thought which was passing through 
 her mind, and raising that choking feeling in 
 her throat. She longed to pour out her heart to 
 somebody, and find a sympathy to relieve that 
 constant suppression which was so hard to bear; 
 but Kathleen was too simple, too child-like, she 
 wouldn't understand her perhaps ; and, besides, she 
 was too happy in her own love, too unconscious 
 of cause for sorrow in her companion to have a selfish 
 tale of trouble obtruded on her loving heart to spoil 
 her happiness. Then there can be no real sympathy
 
 280 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 except between equals : it must be entirely unem- 
 barrassed, unimpeded by any restraint on either side ; 
 and what Nora longed for was some loving woman 
 friend who would twine her arms round her, and 
 listen with compassionate appreciating interest as she 
 poured forth, unchecked, the whole perplexity of her 
 pent-up feelings. She could not do that to Kathleen. 
 There was a space between them which she could not 
 wholly cross ; and, therefore, she went on in a soft 
 subdued tone to other topics, which came very flat 
 and dull after the one absorbing interest they had 
 lately been engaged upon. 
 
 At last Kathleen said she must be going home, to 
 get there before night, and Nora walked with her 
 to the garden gate ; thanked her again for her present 
 of fresh eggs and butter, and with a parting as- 
 surance that her interests would not be forgotten, 
 said good-bye, and watched her retreating figure 
 for a time, thinking how pleasant it was to be able to 
 say a kind word, or do a kind action which should 
 produce in return such a look of gratitude as 
 Kathleen's face had worn when she pressed her 
 hand a moment before — how pleasant, in fact, it was
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 281 
 
 to be loved for tlie happiness you had caused to 
 others ; and as she turned and walked slowly back to 
 the house, she wondered within herself why it was 
 such pleasure was so seldom sought. 
 
 Kathleen, meanwhile, pursued her way with a 
 light step through wood and fern and shady grove, 
 emerging at length upon the road to cross it to the 
 waterfall wood, through which lay the shortest 
 route to her distant glen. The river was low, the 
 stepping-stones would be dry, and going this way, 
 and then over the hill, through Echo Hollow, would 
 save her a good two miles of distance. 
 
 So absent were her thoughts as she crossed from 
 one stile to the other that she had no curiosity to 
 look up or down the road, and thereby missed the 
 approaching form of young Brady ; who, temporarily 
 deprived of the use of his own conveyance, and not 
 caring to hire one as the day was fine, was walking 
 back to Ballyduff from a Petty Sessions in a neigh- 
 bouring village, where he had nearly worried the life 
 out of Captain Hillier, who had been on this occasion 
 the sole representative of their worships on the 
 bench. On every decision he had had an authority
 
 282 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 to cite, or a technical objection to recommend to the 
 notice of his worship, jumping up like a jack-in-the- 
 box with his finger on the place in the book ; and 
 ^Yhat was more provoking than all, being generally, 
 if not always, right on a point of law — apparently, 
 at least, for "the captain " w^as easily frightened into 
 accepting bad law, for fear he should be exceeding 
 his jurisdiction and laying himself open to a rebuke 
 for the want of knowledge which he never could have 
 been supposed to possess. Young Brady was the 
 united aversion of all the magistrates of the district. 
 Naturally he knew more law than they did, and the 
 quiet triumph with which he made them recall their 
 decisions, or, in the case of the feeble-minded among 
 them, dictated from a legal point of view the course 
 which was the only one to take in the case, was, of 
 course, excessively annoying to their worships ; who 
 had not gone through a course of dinners at the 
 Temple preparatory to entering upon the administra- 
 tion of justice. It spoilt the dignity of their attitude 
 towards the court, lessened them in their own esteem, 
 and, it is much to be feared, made them appear very 
 foolish sometimes in the eyes of the multitude ; who
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 283 
 
 were much too shrewd and intelligent not to see the 
 nature of the relation which magistrates and attorney 
 bore to one another, and gave the latter much 
 practice accordingly. 
 
 Perhaps, when it has become recognized as part 
 of a gentleman's education to know something about 
 the law of his country, and particularly when it 
 has become the custom in Ireland to appoint as 
 paid administrators of justice men who can pretend 
 to some sort of qualification for the post, we 
 may miss the recurring enjoyment of seeing the 
 attorneys putting down the magistrates, and poor 
 fussy gentlemen- knocking their heads together over 
 their legal guides on the bench, and eventually 
 announcing, with as much dignity as they can 
 muster under the circumstances, that they find the 
 Mr. Brady of their court to be correct in his reading 
 of some particular Act, and, therefore, that the 
 present case will be dismissed without prejudice ; as 
 they have reconsidered their former decision, and 
 find that there are technicalities which remove it 
 beyond their jurisdiction, &c., &c., varied according 
 to the nature of the set-down. Mr. Brady resumes
 
 284 TERENCE Mc GOWAN, 
 
 his seat with a quiet contemptuous smile, and winks 
 to a brother attorney over the table. 
 
 Our Mr. Brady was a sharp fellow enough, rising 
 rapidly to the possession of his father's shoes in the 
 Dublin business, whither Mr. Brady, senior, had found 
 it due to his talents to remove after giving the neigh- 
 bourhood of Ballyduff and Kilmorris a taste of the 
 shrewdness that was in him ; and beyond his pro- 
 fessional conceit, which w^as not small, he rather 
 thought that his appearance, particularly in the 
 semi-sporting costume and gaiters which he wore 
 to-day, was not altogether to be despised. Truth to 
 tell, he was not a bad-looking man, if his exterior 
 had not been stamped with the cunning and un- 
 scrupulous nature of the inner man, and his character 
 for gallantry, so called, had not been acquired from 
 altogether unwilling sources. The sight of Kathleen 
 crossing the road before him puts to flight the 
 chuckling recollections of the stipendiary's surrender, 
 and he quickens his pace and follows her over the 
 stile along the path leading to the wood. Hearing a 
 step behind, Kathleen looks round, and feels a 
 startled thrill, she hardly knows why, when she sees
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 285 
 
 who it is. It was still bright afternoon, though 
 verging on to evening; but the path was an un- 
 frequented one through the windings of that wood, 
 and she wished she had kept the road instead. 
 Whatever slight flutterings of vanity Brady's atten- 
 tions might have caused her at any other time — 
 response, of course, they had never met with — were 
 entirely forgotten now, and she walked on quickly 
 without speaking, awaiting his approach with hot 
 cheeks and a fluttering nervousness at heart, which 
 she would never have felt at the promised companion- 
 ship of any stranger mountain lad. 
 
 " You're not going to run away from me, Miss 
 Kathleen," said Brady, in a soft seductive brogue, 
 coming up alongside. 
 
 "I suppose I wouldn't need to do that, Mr. 
 Brady," she replied. '^It's not likely a gentleman 
 such as yourself would want to harm a poor girl." 
 
 *' Harm ! I'd like to see the man that would 
 lay a finger on you, my darling. But why wouldn't 
 you stop and welcome me, instead of going on 
 without a word in that way ? " he asked in a coaxing 
 tone.
 
 286 TERENCE Mc GOWAX, 
 
 " Haven't I a long distance to get home, sir ? If 
 I'd stop talking, the night 'ud be on me before I get 
 back." 
 
 " Tut, Kathleen, that's only an excuse for your 
 coyness — isn't it now ? Come, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Indeed it's the truth I'm tellin' you, Mr. 
 Brady — would you keep your arm to yourself, sir? " 
 she exclaimed suddenly, with flashing eyes, in reply 
 to a familiar movement on his part. 
 
 *' There, don't be angry, j^ou pretty darling, and 
 spoil those lovely eyes with crying," Brady said, 
 disappointed at the rebuff which his amatory offer 
 had met with, and observing the tears which were 
 rising in Kathleen's eyes, as she felt her utter 
 helplessness, and how useless it would be to turn 
 backnow. ''What brought jon out here at all?" 
 he asked presently, after looking admiringly into her 
 face for a moment or two, and deeming it judicious 
 to allow the rising storm to pass off before making 
 any further advances. 
 
 " Indeed, I'm sorry I came," said Kathleen, 
 walking on quicker and more nervously than before. 
 
 " Ah ! don't be saying that, Kathleen dear. You
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 287 
 
 wouldn't want to give a poor fellow the loss of a 
 walk with j^ou ? " 
 
 ^' I'd just be very much obliged indeed, Mr. 
 Brady, if you'd leave me to walk by myself," she 
 rejoined. 
 
 "Ah! how could I do that, and leave you to 
 take care of yourself all alone?" 
 
 " I'd be better content with that ; " and she tried 
 to walk on away from him, but he kept gallantly 
 by her side, and told her she would be tired before 
 she got home if she walked at that speed all the 
 way. He was a little nettled at having his attentions 
 treated in that haughty manner, and the fiend was 
 gradually rising in his eye as he cast admiring 
 glances from time to time at her beautiful features, 
 which alternately grew flushed or pale, according 
 as anger or fear came uppermost in her mind. 
 
 At last she stopped altogether, as if to allow him 
 to walk on, if he wouldn't permit her to do so ; and 
 Brady stopped too. 
 
 "What's the matter, sweet, to-day?" he asked, 
 with a very unpleasant, determined look. Kathleen 
 made no reply, standing with averted face.
 
 288 TERENCE MCGO\YAN, 
 
 '' Don't tell me I've oifencled you, my darling. 
 You never were so coy before. You used to like my 
 coming talking to you," and perhaps she used also 
 to like the leer with which he said so. 
 
 '' Is it liked you ! " cried Kathleen, turning round 
 upon him. "I tell you to your face I never did. I 
 hate the very ground you tread on ; and if you're a 
 gentleman, as you pretend to he, you'll leave me to 
 go my own way and not follow me no more." 
 
 " Nay, sweet, that 'ud be too hard," Brady replied, 
 with an ominous smile, putting himself in motion 
 again, in obedience to the impulse which prompted 
 him to do exactly whatever Kathleen did in this 
 respect. He saw no further need for backwardness 
 now in the demonstration of his ardent feelings, 
 and again he approached, and in spite of her indignant 
 resistance, he had his arm round her waist as the 
 trees closed over them, and they were lost to view 
 in the shady dell, into which the path descended.
 
 THE HUSH TENANT. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It was fair day at Ball^'dufF, and a powerfal large 
 fair, and a dear fair it had been ; and Terence, wlio 
 had been entrusted by the steward at Geraldscourt 
 with the sale of several head of cattle, was returning 
 with the proceeds in his pocket, well pleased with his 
 day's performance, and looking forward to the day 
 when he should have as many to sell on his own 
 account. From that he went on to build other 
 castles in the air, and pictured himself a thriving 
 farmer, with a good extent of land in better condition 
 than that which he saw on either side of him — no 
 rushes, no rocks, no open drains, no wasteful banks ; 
 but large green pasture fields, and clean stubble, and 
 luxuriant stretches of turnips, such as this backward 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 2y0 TERENCE MC GO WAX, 
 
 district had scarcely ever dreamt of, but such as he 
 had seen A^ith admiration on every side of him in 
 England. 
 
 The tone of Terence's mind when it turned 
 upon farming or the state of the land about was 
 ahvays tinged with a certain despondency. It was 
 not encouraging work expending labour on such 
 poor thin soil. But still while the spade was idle 
 there would be no return, and, therefore, he gave his 
 whole mind to it all the same ; under the conviction 
 that every man ought to make the best of the circum; 
 stances in which he was placed, and that if he did 
 so he would find satisfaction enough in life, and in 
 the occupation which his work afforded him, to allow 
 him no time to worry himself with a useless resent- 
 ment against his neighbours for being better off than 
 he was himself. As he glanced at the acres of waste 
 land, the straggling heather-mixed verdure and the 
 dirty appearance of most of the cottages along the 
 road, which gave no encom*aging promise to the eye, 
 it seemed a very hopeless notion to think of becoming 
 rich off such a barren wild ; and his thoughts reverted 
 to the owner.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 291 
 
 *^ He's a kind Dian then," he said; *'but a bad 
 friend to himself, God speed him, and spare him 
 his health, for there'll be a big change on this 
 estate when he goes from it ; " and thus he was 
 carried off into the future again, and his thoughts 
 occupied themselves with pleasant pictures of the 
 snug fireside on winter evenings, with the wife of his 
 heart sitting by him with her children at her knee ; 
 and as he came to the cross-roads he looked wistfully 
 along the one which led to Geraldscourt, and the one 
 going up the hollow to Glen Annagh, in the hope 
 of catching sight of Kathleen, whom he knew had 
 promised to come up on this day to see Miss Nora. 
 
 There was nothing like her figure in sight, how- 
 ever, and on the chance of meeting her on the way 
 back, he turned off his own road and took the one to 
 Geraldscourt, to render an account of the day's sale 
 this evening, instead of, as he otherwise would, on 
 the following morning. 
 
 You never would have thought, to look at 
 Terence's great strong-made frame and emphatic 
 step, his large square cast of features and the stern 
 grasp of his look, that there was such a large
 
 292 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 infusion of feeling and sentiment mingled through 
 his nature. But in the same manner you would he 
 surprised, perhaps, to find all sorts of other contrasts 
 in the Irish character ; and there is this advantage, 
 at all events, in writing about Irishmen — that one 
 cannot be taken to task legitimately for combining 
 in the same individual qualities which a clever meta- 
 physician would tell you could not possibly co-exist. 
 But everybody knows that an Irishman, an abstract 
 Irishman, outrages metaphysical propriety altogether, 
 in the extremes of character which he embodies in 
 his one single nature ; and for that matter it may be 
 doubted whether metaphysicians do not always pro- 
 vide general rules for human nature to illustrate by 
 exceptions. Such considerations, however, withdraw 
 us from our proper path, which is that into which 
 Terence had turned off the road, after bidding good 
 evening to the companions who had been walking 
 with him for the last half mile or so ; returning early 
 like himself and others when their business had been 
 done, not waiting for the riotous stream, but just 
 taking their glass together, or treating a friend, and 
 then off home at once.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 293 
 
 Terence had debated for some time before arriving 
 at this stile, whether the road or the short cut by the 
 stepping-stones was the better chance, and had come 
 to the conchision, just as he arrived at the point where 
 he must take one line or other, that as there was 
 no sign of her along the far stretch of road in sight, 
 she must be either gone already, or else on her way 
 through the wood, and probably close at hand; and 
 therefore he struck off across the neighbouring 
 pasture, and was soon among the glimmering beeches 
 which sloped away in bright green shade towards the 
 bottom of the glen. 
 
 The stepping-stones were reached, and yet no 
 sign, and he began to regret his choice of chances, 
 as he stood still for a while upon the bank and 
 listened to the dreamy monotony of the fall ; watching 
 the spray rising through the trees, following a 
 brilliant kingfisher in its rapid flight, or gazing 
 absently upon the mimic falls and rippling pools and 
 clear gravelly shallows into which the water broke 
 as it murmured ceaselessly down through the dark 
 moss-patched rocks — winding out from under sloping 
 banks of foliage fringed with overhanging blackberries
 
 294 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 — tlie one side in shadow from the lowering sun 
 behind, and the other lit up with a yellow glory 
 which filled the sky above and woods beyond with the 
 softest of soft gentle lights, and glinted through the 
 branches overhead in bright broken splinters upon 
 the green carpet underneath. Tufts of heather 
 peeping out here and there, and little groups of 
 bilberry-bushes dispersed among the mossy rocks 
 around the roots of stunted hawthorns, gave a semi- 
 Avildness to the spot, and set off to the best advantage 
 the green leafy vistas filled with broken waters. 
 There was a quiet charm of seclusion, a sweet grace- 
 ful silence about the place, deepened by the tumult 
 of the broken fall above, which kept Terence standing 
 and looking and listening, and enjoying for several 
 minutes some such thoughts, perhaps, as youthful 
 poets dream on summer eve by haunted stream — those 
 love thoughts which lie so rich when canopied with 
 bowers, and not less rich when lapped in the luxury 
 of nature's charming solitudes. 
 
 At length he started forward on his way. The 
 river was crossed, and he entered upon a broken 
 glade where the rabbits, busy at their evening meal,
 
 THE IKISH TENANT, 295 
 
 stopped of a sudden as he came within hearing, and 
 sat up upon their hind legs with their ears at atten- 
 tion, and their little listening black ejes fixed, and 
 then, dropping down again, scuttled away with a 
 jerky movement and popped down into their holes, 
 after halting at the entrance for one last look to see 
 if it was absolutely necessary to interrupt their meal. 
 He had hardly reached the patch of sunlight in 
 the middle when the sound of voices broke upon his 
 ear above the noise of the waterfall, dimly caught at 
 first by his wandering attention, but recalling it with 
 a start, and feeding it with a gentle curiosity which 
 soon became a deep personal interest as the tones 
 were more clearly defined. His face -'flushed, and for 
 a moment he stood still, with strained attention, to 
 make sure that his ear had not deceived him ; the 
 next — it was a woman's voice, struggling, imploring, 
 and now piercing the wood with a piteous scream 
 for help — he is tearing across the intervening space, 
 across the open, and down into the green hollow 
 beyond, where he hears his own name called upon 
 in the last accents of despair, and sees what fills him 
 with the fury of a hundred fiends as he rushes forward,
 
 296 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 and in a moment lias laid Brady senseless on the 
 ground and caught Kathleen fainting in his arms. 
 
 " Ye villain ! " he cried, in intense and infuriated 
 tones, as he clasped his arm round Kathleen and 
 dealt Brady's prostrate hody another and another 
 crashing blow. " Ye base villain ! didn't I tell ye 
 ye'd rue the day ye stirred a hand to harm my 
 own lily love here, that always loathed j-our veiy 
 sight? Didn't I tell ye truth, now, ye dirty lyin' 
 hound ?" 
 
 '•'But Kathleen ! Kathleen ! " he cried suddenly, 
 changing his tone of infuriated passion to one of the 
 utmost gentleness and soothing tenderness, " What 
 ails you, my darlin' ? Look up, mavourneen, and 
 speak to your own Terence, won't 3'ou ? Kathleen ! 
 Kathleen ! don't you hear me speakin', acushla 
 machree ? Give me the one word only, the way 
 I'll know the life's not gone from you entirely. 
 He'll harm you no more, acushla; it's in my own. 
 lovin' arms you are : and won't j^ou speak one word 
 to me at all, my poor darlin' girl, that was the light 
 o' my eyes and the pride 0' my heart ? Don't tell 
 me ye're dead, asthore, for I'll never live in this
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 297 
 
 world without 3-e ! " and he bent over her, and wildly 
 smoothed back the hair from her face, and called her 
 by name with a frenzied passion of love : and still no 
 answer came. 
 
 Her head was drooped upon his breast, and she 
 hung upon his arm a lifeless weight ; her glossy 
 black hair making the ashy pallor of her face the 
 more deadly pale to look at. 
 
 Suddenly, then, his passion becomes energized 
 by a quickening impulse of thought ; he lifts her in 
 his arms, and without a glance at Brady's motionless 
 form upon the ground beside him, speeds away 
 through the chequered sunlight and shadow of the 
 glade, great drops of moisture coming out upon his 
 forehead, and a fixed eager earnestness in his look, 
 never stopping until he has laid her gently down by 
 the river side upon the soft green bank, under the 
 silent leafy shade and the deepening yellow sky. 
 
 To fill his hat from a trickling, gushing fall 
 below was a moment's work, and then how anxiously, 
 how tenderly he watched for the first faint sign of 
 returning life, as he sprinkled the water on her cold 
 pale face, and gazed upon it with an absorbed and
 
 298 
 
 longing look Avhicli no description can adequately 
 impress. 
 
 What a joyous change that is which breaks across 
 his face ; what a rushing sense of grateful quick 
 relief thrills through him now as he sees a tremor 
 of returning consciousness passing over her. The 
 hat is thrown to one side, her head is gently raised 
 and placed upon his knee, and as she opens her 
 eyes with a sudden shudder, he catches the awaken- 
 ing thought, and intercepts her recollection with 
 such soft fondling words that the bewildered look 
 in the dark eyes giyes way at once almost to a ray 
 of grateful love, so warm and deep, that Terence, as 
 he bent down and drank it in fresh from its own 
 pure source, felt somewhat as the gods may feel 
 when sipping down their nectar in ambrosial halls. 
 
 " Lie still now, my poor sweet lily; don't fear no 
 more, mavourneen ; 3-ou know you're safe now, and 
 that not one '11 dar' to harm you when these arms 
 are round you, my darlin' love, my own Kathleen 
 that ever was," and he bent down and Idssed her cold 
 cheek as she clung to him and took his hand within 
 her own, and kept it there.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 299 
 
 ''My brave Terence!" was all she said, looking 
 np at him with eyes that said a volume more ; and 
 then they were closed again, while he leaned over her, 
 and watched every motion of her face with a strained 
 eager look, pressing her more closely to him as 
 he saw a slight shudder pass across her features, 
 and kissing her again to recover her wandering 
 thoughts.' 
 
 " Terence ! " she said, in a low voice, opening 
 her eyes again presently. 
 
 "What is it, asthore ? There, lean your wee 
 head on my arm here, poor darlin', that's lyin' there 
 like a broken flower. What is it, mavourneen ? " 
 
 " Where is he, Terence ? You didn't kill him — 
 don't tell me he's killed." 
 
 " Never heed what happened him, love. Death 
 'ud be only too good for such as him ! But try and 
 get back your own strength the way we'll be goin' 
 home together, for I'll not leave you no more." 
 
 " No, no, don't leave me," and she closed her 
 eyes once more. 
 
 " Terence," she said again, presently, " I'm 
 gettin' strong again now. They '11 be expectin' me
 
 300 TERENCE Mc GOWAN, 
 
 at home. Let me try could I walk. Oh ! Terence, 
 will I ever forget this clay ! " 
 
 '' Don't be thinkin' of it at all," he said, ten- 
 derly assisting her to rise. '' There, that's the brave 
 girl. Now lean on my arm till you rest a bit — 
 that way." 
 
 Kathleen did as she was told, looking up into his 
 face, and flooding his whole soul with an ecstasy of 
 rapture, which nature wove into a lovely frame of 
 murmuring waters, and soft mellow evening woods, 
 and silent-foliaged light — a frame but ill befitting 
 such a figure as now appeared to mar its gentle 
 loveliness. Pale, sallow, with a clot of blood stream- 
 ing from a wound upon his head, a black bruise 
 upon his cheek, and a bewildered, savage look 
 upon his face, his hair dishevelled, and his hands 
 blood-stained, Brady was emerging from the con- 
 demning silence of the trees. When he saw the 
 other two he stood and looked a moment, as if in 
 some Satanic dream, and then, when recognition 
 seemed to dawn, he shook his fist, and glared a 
 hideous look at Terence ; muttered a fierce something 
 between his teeth, and staggered on across the river
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 301 
 
 like a drunken man, just stopping once to drink a 
 long, eager draught, and then disappearing up the 
 path beyond. 
 
 Kathleen had cowered down to Terence's side at 
 sight of him, and Terence spoke no word, hut 
 followed him with a stern, steady look, until he was 
 hidden from their sight ; and then he turned, relieved, 
 to soothe away the recollection which his presence 
 had called up in the thoughts of that gentle dove 
 that was nestling in his arms. To him the appear- 
 ance of Brady had been an undoubted relief. When 
 the first paroxysm of his revengeful passion had 
 passed away the thought that he might have murder 
 on his conscience had been for a moment suggested 
 by Kathleen's inquiry, and the consciousness of his 
 victim's condition would have forced an acknowledg- 
 ment from him before many moments had elapsed. 
 Now he was free to enjoy all the rapture of Kath- 
 leen's trusting love without a shadow of alloy, and 
 he turned to her again with a double joy, if that were 
 possible, arising out of this new relief. 
 
 "Are you able for walking now, love?" he 
 asked, after a moment or two.
 
 302 TERENCE MC GO WAN, 
 
 '^ I am, Terence, indeed I am," she answered, 
 trying to brace up her shattered energies ; " see now 
 how bravely I'll get along," and she urged him for- 
 ward, and found her strength returning at every step. 
 
 He insisted on carrying her over the stepping- 
 stones, for fear she w^ouldn't be able to cross too well 
 by herself, and found it difficult enough to steady his 
 own footing with a pair of eyes looking up at him as 
 Kathleen's were, so close below his own. The other 
 bank was safely reached however, and they too dis- 
 appeared into the trees ; taking another path than 
 that by which Brady had gone, and emerging upon 
 the road at another point farther down.
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The golden flood of sunset had rolled its living 
 waves of light along Glen Annagh's length, contest- 
 ing with advancing shade each slope and rock and 
 wooded ambush, relinquishing point after point, and 
 still retiring to further heights to brave the slow 
 and sure pursuing progress ; thence ousted too, one 
 final stand had made on Thor's impending crag, 
 flushing the dark seams with a bold defiant fire, and 
 lighting up a glory round its rocky summit, until, as 
 the dark shadows of a human soul may step b}^ step 
 advance upon the man, and driving conscience back 
 from height to height, thrust out the light of heaven 
 to its source, by little and by little the encroaching 
 shade had urged the lingering ray to its last hold 
 upon the earth, and it had fled away at length into
 
 304 TERENCE MC GOWAN, 
 
 the skies beyond, leaving the cold grey cloud upon 
 the mountain top to sink into the growing dusk of 
 night. 
 
 Still Kathleen did not return. 
 
 The cows were milked. Mrs. O'Hara had long 
 ago descended from her seat behind her husband's 
 saddle, and stowed away the proceeds of a very satis- 
 factory market at the fair — butter actually thirteen 
 pence a pound, a price unheard of almost at that time 
 of year ; her bonnet and veil and cloak had been hung 
 up in the bedroom among the gaudy saints by the 
 four-post bed, and she had been for some time moving 
 about with that moulted look about the head and neck 
 which a suddenly unbonneted female always has. 
 Bare-footed Molly had been reprimanded for many 
 unconscious delinquencies in her absence, when her 
 busy thought paused for a moment in the after 
 enjoyment of all the gossip she had taken part in 
 on the road — his lordship's visit had been detailed 
 by her with a most graphic and frequent particularity 
 — and after seeing the potatoes put on to boil, she 
 had rested from her minute investigation of what 
 might have occurred about the premises during her
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 305 
 
 absence, and was now wondering that Kathleen had 
 not yet returned. A fair night was no night for her 
 to be out upon the road ; and that she might have 
 known, her stepmother thought, as she sent her 
 sister Anne to see whether any one was coming. 
 
 The twihght darkened, and still no Kathleen ; and 
 Thady, notwithstanding the counter attraction of his 
 best frieze coat, black handkerchief, and white cord 
 breeches, and the general consciousness of a well-to- 
 do and comfortable air, began to grow uneasy upon 
 his chair ; frequently leaving it now for the door, to 
 look out upon the mountain track and the road, along 
 either of which she might return. 
 
 " Don't be frettin', man," says his wife, imputing 
 the greater anxiety to his more possessive fondness. 
 ''It's like enough the girl didn't get seein' Miss 
 Kochfort until late, and there'll be plenty company 
 along the road this night." 
 
 " Ay, ay," returned Thady, taking his pipe from 
 his mouth, " it's just that I'm thinkin'. There'll 
 be company enough and to spare, and plenty that 
 I'd not be willin' she'd fall in with after night." 
 
 " That's thrue for her, then," said the old 
 
 VOL. I. 20
 
 306 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 grandmotlier, who appeared to have been knitting 
 persistently in the same place since last we met her 
 in her corner by the fire. She said no more, but 
 turned the stocking for the commencement of another 
 row. 
 
 " See, Brian," said O'Hara to his farm labourer, 
 after smoking contemplatively for a few moments 
 longer, " take a start along the road there, and 
 see would you meet her. It's not across the hill 
 she'll be likely to come now." 
 
 Brian would have preferred to remain in lethargic 
 conversation with Molly, whose infinite washing up 
 appeared to have found a termination for this one 
 night ; but he picked up his caubeen and descended 
 from the dresser, while Thady, turning round, 
 addressed his wife again, and said, '^ It's too far 
 for her go walk alone, an' it fair day along vdth 
 that." 
 
 " It must be they kep' her, for she should be home 
 afore this, with a light basket and all." 
 
 " Maybe, indeed. Miss Nora has a right lanin* 
 toward her, God bless her ! " 
 
 *' I wonder is his lordship there still, that he'd be
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 307 
 
 apt to get a taste of the butter. D'ye mind his sayiii' 
 how he'd heard tell o' our butter, Thady ? I done my 
 best with this any way." 
 
 "I do mind rightly; but I'd be very content 
 that colleen w^as under the roof with us this moment. 
 If the cub was here, I'd start him away afther her 
 to the mountain, but she'll scarcely come that way 
 at this hour o' the night : don't you think that 
 yourself?" 
 
 "Ah! quit ^'our frettin', man," said his wdfe, 
 the butter still running in her head. " Sure it 
 isn't late at all. She'll bo home time enough, I'll 
 engage." 
 
 And Mrs. O'Hara was enabled to keep her 
 engagement without fail, by the appearance of Kath- 
 leen at the door shortly after. 
 
 " Sure I told ye that, now," said the wife, point- 
 ing out her figure at the door; and as the father 
 started up to assure himself of her safet}', Kathleen 
 came forward to the fire, with a face so pale, and a 
 look so exhausted, that he caught her to his side 
 with a host of vague apprehensions replacing his 
 ate anxiety, and hurriedly asked for explanation.
 
 308 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 "What ails ye at all, acushla?" he exclaimed, 
 making her sit down upon his knee. " What 
 happened my Kathleen to keep her on the road this 
 late ? Is it a tiredness you took, my colleen ? See 
 and get her a hit fate now, Molly, and a drop o* 
 something warm, mother, that'll bring the life into 
 these bonny cheeks back. Didn't you meet Brian 
 along the road at all ? " 
 
 The rest of the occupants of the room looked at 
 her inquiringly for an answer, and her absent ex- 
 hausted look gave way for a moment as she said that 
 it was over the hill she came, and not along the 
 road at all ; and then suddenly bursting into tears, 
 she threw her arms round her father's neck, and hid 
 her face upon his shoulder. 
 
 The father was quite taken aback, an expectant 
 surprise started into his wife's face ; the old grand- 
 mother half put down her knitting, and looked up 
 at them over her spectacles ; even Molly was 
 temporarily forgetful of her mistress's hastening 
 tongue, and paused with a backward look ; the 
 children gathered round impulsively ; and while her 
 father endeavoured to soothe her with every species of
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 309 
 
 endearment which a simple and poetic fancy could 
 suggest, Kathleen still sobbed upon his shoulder, 
 without a word. 
 
 Talking it all over afterwards with his wife, the 
 gratitude which Thady was disposed to feel towards 
 Kathleen's rescuer was sadly marred by the thought 
 that it was to Terence Mc Gowan that gratitude was 
 due. 
 
 *' I'd be very content it was any other man," he 
 said ; ''for there's been a deal too much atween 
 them this time back." 
 
 " An' if there has," rejoined his wife ; " there's 
 not a man in this town '11 make a better husband to 
 Kathleen. He's the very man that '11 not let her 
 starve while he has his own hands upon him." 
 
 Mrs. O'Hara was quite shrewd enough to see 
 the superior strength and steadiness of Terence's 
 character, and not being Kathleen's own mother, may 
 possibly have been unconsciously less particular about 
 her marrying as high as Thady considered that, from 
 her advantages of fortune and appearance and family, 
 she was entitled to look. She generally put in a 
 good word for him whenever his name was mentioned.
 
 310 TERENCE MCGOWAN, 
 
 increasing Kathleen's affection for herself very much 
 by so doing; and she always gave him a cordial 
 welcome which irritated her husband almost out of 
 his natural politeness. When Thady would talk of 
 the social gulf which lay between an O'Hara and 
 a Mc Gowan, with a slight implication of its being 
 somewhat of a condescension for an O'Hara to ally 
 himself with a Mulligan, his partner — who it was 
 supposed in the neighbourhood even now kept a 
 separate purse and had money of her own in the 
 bank — would toss her head, and ask what Thady 
 O'Hara himself would have been to this day if it had 
 not been for her and the fortune she brought him. 
 
 ''Isn't it nothing but a poor tenant ye were with 
 a few acres o' bad land, and not a cow or calf in the 
 wide world but the two ? and is it for the likes o' j-ou 
 to be turnin' up your nose at other folks' sons that 
 were never bred on any man's floor but their father's 
 floor ? and, for all the mother of him makes the worst 
 butter in these borders al-together, Terence Mc Gowan, 
 if he had the way of keepin' a wife, is good enough for 
 any man's daughter, even though her father did 
 marry into the Mulligans, that, I can tell ye, Thady
 
 THE IRISH TENANT. 311 
 
 O'Hara, held up tlieir heads when 3'ou were hard put 
 to it to get a Hvin' for j'Ourself at all." 
 
 So Thady would he silenced into a more deter- 
 mined opposition, and would nurse his pride and his 
 ambition within his dear heart, silently, and Mrs. 
 O'Hara would welcome Terence next time he came 
 with redoubled cordiality. 
 
 But Terence, as we know, had not yet provoked 
 his refusal by a deliberate proposal ; and as he left 
 Kathleen at the top of the path leading down to her 
 home, preferring to avoid laying himself open to the 
 acknowledgments of the family, he watched her enter- 
 ing the door, and wondered when he should be in a 
 position to overcome her father's evident dislike of 
 their intimacy ; determined that effort, at all events, 
 should not be wanting ; and turned to face the hill 
 again, in the full enjoyment of that fresh rush of fond- 
 ness which comes from the consciousness of having 
 done a service to any one we love. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SMITH, ELDER AND CO. 
 OLD BAILEY, E.G. 
 
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