“Do not ask me to say how much I am aware of your capacity and acquirements, Miss Kellett. It is about two months back a little volume came into my hands which had once been yours; how it ceased to be so I don't choose to confess; but it was a work on the industrial resources of Ireland, annotated and commented on by you. I have it still. Shall I own to you that your notes have been already used by me in my reports, and that I have adopted some of the suggestions in my recommendations to Government? Nay, if you doubt me, I will give you the proof.”
“I left such a volume as you speak of at Mr. Hawkhaw's, and believed it had been mislaid.”
“It was deliberately stolen, Miss Kellett, that's the truth of it. Mr. Driscoll chanced to see the book, and happened to show it to me. I could not fail to be struck with it, the more as I discovered in your remarks hints and suggestions, coupled with explanations, that none had ever offered me.”
“How leniently you speak of my presumption, sir!”
“Say, rather, how sincerely I applaud your zeal and intelligence,—the book bespeaks both. Now, when I read it, I wished at once to make your acquaintance. There were points wherein you were mistaken; there were others in which you evidently see further than any of us. I felt that if time, and leisure, and opportunity of knowledge were supplied, these were the studies in which you might become really proficient. Lord Glengariff s proposal came at the very moment. It was all I could desire for you,—a quiet home, the society of those whose very breeding is acted kindliness.”
“Oh, sir! do not flatter me into the belief that I am worthy of such advantages.”
“The station will gain most by your association with it, take my word for that.”
How was it that these words sent a color to her cheek and a courage to her heart that made her for a moment forget she was poor and fatherless and friendless? What was it, too, that made them seem less flattery than sound, just, and due acknowledgment? He that spoke them was neither young, nor handsome, nor fascinating in manner; and yet she felt his praise vibrate within her heart strangely and thrillingly.
He spoke much to her about her early life,—what she had read, and how she was led to reflect upon themes so unlikely to attract a young girl's thoughts. By degrees, as her reserve wore off, she ventured to confess what a charm the great men of former days possessed for her imagination,—how their devotion, their courage, their single-heartedness animated her with higher hopes for the time when Ireland should have the aid of those able to guide her destinies and make of her all that her great resources promised.
“The world of contemporaries is seldom just to these,” said Dunn, gravely; “they excite envy rather than attract friendship, and then they have often few of the gifts which conciliate the prejudices around them.”