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as you can. There's no use in your keeping us all day, since you are to quit, and I want to have some cocking in the wood as I go home."
The man was standing at a little distance from the door, the early sunshine falling on his features. His wife, a pale and sickly, but calm-eyed and handsome young woman, hung with both her hands upon his shoulder, while their children, unconscious of the mournful consequences of their ejectment, gazed with innocent wonder on the stranger and his attendants. The man exchanged glances with his wife at the speech above written. His look was one of smothered passion ; hers was one of affectionate entreaty. He tossed his head ; resigned his indignation; and smiled a mournful acquiesence.
“ Ho! ho! what have we here" exclaimed the agent, stirring something that glittered on the floor. “ A silver cigar-box! How came you by this, Ned?"
“ I don't know," replied the man, “ if it doesn't belong to the strange gentleman that was benighted with us last night.'
Mr. Johnson here advanced, and claimed his property, mentioning at the same time, in brief and polite terms, the circumstances which compelled him to seek the shelter of so humble a roof as this. While he and the agent were interchanging mutual civilities, a dreadful shower of rain fell outside.
“ I'll tell you what, sir," said the poor man, as he bent an anxious eye on his wife, " leave us in the house for a few days, or for this day itself, until we try to get some sort of a lodging. My poor Mary, here, can never stand the weather.”
"I can't do it, Hanrahan. I have Lord Ulla's positive directions not to let it go beyond this day ; and I have no choice left."
“ The Lord forgive that young man,” said the husband. “ If he's as hard on you as you are on us, you are to be pitied with him. I'll tell you what it is, sir,” he added, after a pause and with a totally altered tone. “ I'd consider it nothing less than murdering my wife to go out to-day; and neither for Lord Ulla, nor for you, nor for any
man, will I stir one step until I have provided a lodging for her at any rate.”
“ Come, drag them out at once, now," said the agent, snatching his gun.
The man, springing from his wife, who shrieked in terror, caught up a pitchfork that lay on the floor.
- Leave the house !” cried the man of power, cocking his piece.
“ Never while I live,” shouted the peasant, “you'll take me out on a door first ! Stand back, woman! I say you shall not go.”
“ But I am able! I am well, well able !” cried the woman, walking across the room. But the effort disproved her words. She staggered from
weakness, and would have fallen, but that her husband caught her in his arms. He looked with a smile of bitter reproach on the agent, while he held her forward, as if by way of appeal to the spectators. The agent understood the action. “ I can't help it,” he said :
come, turn them out !”
« Hold !” exclaimed Mr. John Johnson. They all held their hands accordingly, obeying they knew not what of authority in his voice that charmed them.
He requested a word apart with the agent, who followed him into the inner room in some surprise. The rest gazed on one another in silence. In a few seconds, Mr. Johnson returned with the step of a Lord, and the agent followed him pale and agitated.
“ Hanrahan," said the latter, “I have changed my mind about this business, you can remain here for the present, and here is some money for your present use. This gentleman has brought me word, that Lord Ulla-that-there was some mistake about his wishes."
The man darted a shrewd glance at Lord Ulla, but perceiving some reproving expression on his features, continued silent, bowing his head down in unaffected reverence, and almost trembling with the agitation of joy and gratitude. Not a word was spoken, until the cabriolet of the baffled deputy
drove to the door, and its owner, accompanied by Mr. Johnson, took his seat in the vehicle.
Both sat for some time, the one in embarrassed, the other in meditative silence. At length, Lord Ulla asked, in an indifferent tone, whether there were not a certain mineral water in the neighbourhood, much resorted to by valetudinarians.
No such thing had ever reached the ears of the obsequious gentleman, who sat beside him.
The young nobleman remembered the sharp looks and secret smiles of the landlord, the words and character of his medical friend, and a strange suspicion darted into his mind. The whole had been a scheme concerted between the physician and the innkeeper. The latter had never forwarded the cheques on Lord Ulla's banker, and probably knew more of the abstraction of the pocket-book than he had pretended. “ I hope," the agent resumed, in some trepida
your Lordship will not attribute the fault-" “ I attribute it where it was due, sir," replied the nobleman. 66 The fault was mine."
“ Yours, my Lord ? I think the very last"
“ You drive too slow, sir. Imagine that grey mare to be one of Lord Ulla's tenants, and, if I mistake not, she will be driven faster. You know you want to have some shooting in the wood.”
The agent coloured, and discharged his vexation on the sides of the animal. When they arrived at
great house,” Lord Ulla called for ink and paper, and penned the following note to his physician.
6 I have found the spring of which you spoke, 6 and derived so much benefit from the draught I “ have already taken, that I stand in no need of the “ code of directions you were kind enough to promise
It is my intention to remain on my estate “ during the summer, for the purpose of completely
establishing the beneficial alteration, which has “ been already effected.
“ Yours, &c.
66 ULLA. “ P.S. The English do not know how to dress “ potatoes. They should be boiled in the rind, and “ eaten with salt."
On the next morning, the suspicions of the young nobleman were verified by a visit from the innkeeper, who came to restore the pocket-book, with all its contents, and the two letters which, as Lord Ulla had conjectured, never had been forwarded.
“ Please your Lordship’s honour," said the landlord, with many obeisances, “ if your Lordship blames any body in this business, 'tis the doctor you'll blame, and not me, for 'tis his bidding I was doing. He wrote me word a few days before you