“'Tis the dusk o'the evening prevented me seeing yer honer, or I wouldn't be so bowld. This is the way to the Hall sure enough.”
“This place has been greatly neglected of late,” said Linton, as they walked along side by side, and endeavoring, by a tone of familiarity, to set his companion at ease.
“Troth, it is neglected, and always was as long as I remember. I was reared in it, and I never knew it other; thistles and docks as big as your leg, everywhere, and the grass choked up with moss.”
“How came it to be so completely left to ruin?”
“Anan!” muttered he, as if not well comprehending the question, but, in reality, a mere device employed to give him more time to scan the stranger, and guess at his probable object.
“I was asking,” said Linton, “how it happened that a fine old place like this was suffered to go to wreck and ruin?”
“Faix, it's ould enough, anyhow,” said the other, with a coarse laugh.
“And large too.”
“Yer honer was here afore?” said Tom, stealthily glancing at him under his brows. “I 'm thinking I remember yer honer's faytures. You would n't be the gentleman that came down with Mr. Duffy?”
“No; this is my first visit to these parts; now, where does this little road lead? It seems to be better cared for than the rest, and the gate, too, is neatly kept.”