“The gentleman that sent the card, miss, is below stairs. He is with Mr. Crow, at the hall-door,” said George.
“Show him into the drawing-room, George, and tell Mr. Crow to come here, I wish to speak to him.” And before Mary had put away the papers and letters which littered the table, the artist entered.
“Good morning, Mr. Crow,” said Mary, in return for a number of most courteous salutations, which he was performing in a small semicircle in front of her. “Who is your friend Mr.—'Mr. Herman Merl '?” read she, taking up the card.
“A friend of your cousin's, Miss Mary,—of the Captain's. He brought a letter from him; but he gave it to Scanlan, and somehow Mr. Maurice, I believe, forgot to deliver it.”
“I have no recollection of it,” said she, still assorting the papers before her. “What is this visit meant for,—curiosity, pleasure, business? Does he wish to see the house?”
“I think it's Miss Martin herself he'd like to see,” said Crow, half slyly.
“But why so? It's quite clear that I cannot show him any attentions. A young girl, living as I do here, cannot be expected to receive guests. Besides, I have other things to attend to. You must do the honors of Cro' Martin, Mr. Crow. You must entertain this gentleman for me. I 'll order luncheon before I go out, and I 'm sure you 'll not refuse me this service.”
“I wish I knew a real service to render you, Miss Mary,” said he, with unfeigned devotedness in his look as he spoke.
“I think I could promise myself as much,” said Mary, smiling kindly on him. “Do you happen to know anything of this stranger, Mr. Crow?”
“Nothing, miss, beyond seeing him this week back at Kilkieran.”