“And has any one hinted at such a possibility?” said she, in astonishment.
“Indeed, then, it was the talk of the market this mornin', and many a one said he's the very fellow would get in.”
“Is he such a general favorite in Oughterard?”
“I'm not sure it's that, miss,” said Billy, thoughtfully.
“Maybe some likes him, and more is afraid of him; but he himself knows everybody and everybody's business. He can raise the rent upon this man, take it off that; 'tis his word can make a barony-constable or one of the watch. They say he has the taxes, too, in his power, and can cess you just as he likes. Be my conscience, he 's all as one as the Prime Minister.”
Just as Billy had delivered this sage reflection they had reached the hall door, where, having consigned the letter-bag to the hands of a servant, he turned his steps to the kitchen, to take an “air of the fire” before he set out homeward. Mary Martin had not advanced many steps within the hall when both her hands were cordially grasped, and a kind voice, which she at once recognized as Mr. Repton's, said, “Here I am, my dear Miss Martin; arrived in time, too, to welcome you home again. You paid me a visit yesterday—”
“Yes,” broke she in; “but you were shaking your ambrosial curls at the time, browbeating the bench, or cajoling the jury, or something of that sort.”
“That I was; but I must own with scant success. You 've heard how that young David of Oughterard slew the old Goliath of Dublin? Well, shall I confess it? I'm glad of it. I feel proud to think that the crop of clever fellows in Ireland is flourishing, and that when I, and a dozen like me, pass away, our places will be filled by others that will keep the repute of our great profession high in the public estimation.”
“This is worthy of you, sir,” cried Mary, pressing the arm ahe leaned on more closely.
“And now, my dear Miss Mary,” said he, as they entered the drawing-room,—“now that I have light to look at you, let me make my compliments on your appearance. Handsomer than ever, I positively declare. They told me in the town that you half killed yourself with fatigue; that you frequently were days long on horseback, and nights watching by sick-beds; but if this be the result, benevolence is indeed its own reward.”