“Very well, to-morrow!” replied she, as still musing she turned to the window, no more thinking of the luckless attorney than if he had been miles away; and when at length she did look round, he was gone! It was some minutes ere Mary could perfectly reconcile herself to the fact that he had been there at all; but as to how and when and why he took his leave, were mysteries of which she could make nothing. And yet Mr. Scanlan had gone through a very ceremonious farewell. He had bowed, and sidled, and simpered, and smirked, and sighed; had thrown himself into attitudes pictorially devoted and despairing, looked unutterable things in various styles, and finally made an exit, covered with as much shame and discomfiture as so confident a spirit could well experience, muttering, as he paced the corridor, certain prospective reprisals for this haughty indifference, when a certain time should arrive, and a certain fair lady—But we have no right to push his speculations further than he himself indulged them; and on the present occasion Maurice was less sanguine than his wont.
“I fed the mare, sir,” said Barnes, as he held the stirrup for Scanlan to mount.
“And gave her water, too,” said the attorney, doggedly.
“Devil a drop, then,” resumed the other. “I just sprinkled the oats, no more; that's Miss Mary's orders always.”
“She understands a stable well,” said Scanlan, half questioning.
“Does n't she?” said the other, with a sententious smack of the lip. “To bit a horse or to back him, to tache him his paces and cure him of bad tricks, to train him for harness, double and single, to show him the way over a wall or a wide ditch, to make him rise light and come down easy, she has n't a match on this island; and as for training,” added he, with fresh breath, “did you see Sir Lucius?”
“No,” said Scanlan, with awakened interest.
“Wait till I bring him out, then. I'll show you a picture!” And Barnes disappeared into the stable. In five minutes after, he returned, leading a dark brown horse, who, even shrouded in all the covering of hood and body-clothes, displayed in his long step and lounging gait the attributes of a racer.
In a few minutes Barnes had unbuckled strap and surcingle, and sweeping back the blankets dexterously over the croup, so as not to ruffle a hair of the glossy coat, exhibited an animal of surpassing symmetry, in all the pride of high condition.
“There's a beast,” said he, proudly, “without speck or spot, brand or blemish about him! You 're a good judge of a horse, Mr. Scanlan; and tell me when did you see his equal?”