“Oh, I have heard of him, then,” broke in Mary. “It is of him the people tell me such stories of benevolence and goodness. It was he that sent the yawl out to Murran Island with oatmeal and potatoes for the poor. But I thought they called him Mr. Barry?”
“To be sure they do; and he's another guess man from him below stairs. This one here”—Mr. Crow now spoke in a whisper—“this one here is a Jew, I 'd take the Testament on it, and I 'd not be surprised if he was one of them thieving villains that they say robbed the Captain! All the questions he does be asking about the property, and the rents, if they 're well paid, and what arrears there are, shows me that he isn't here for nothing.”
“I know nothing of what you allude to, Mr. Crow,” said she, half proudly; “it would ill become me to pry into my cousin's affairs. At the same time, if the gentleman has no actual business with me, I shall decline to receive him.”
“He says he has, miss,” replied Crow. “He says that he wants to speak to you about a letter he got by yesterday's post from the Captain.”
Mary heard this announcement with evident impatience; her head was, indeed, too full of other cares to wish to occupy her attention with a ceremonial visit. She was in no mood to accept the unmeaning compliments of a new acquaintance. Shall we dare to insinuate, what after all is a mere suspicion on our part, that a casual glance at her pale cheeks, sunken eyes, and careworn features had some share in the obstinacy of her refusal? She was not, indeed, “in looks,” and she knew it. “Must I repeat it, Mr. Crow,” said she, peevishly, “that you can do all this for me, and save me a world of trouble and inconvenience besides? If there should be—a very unlikely circumstance—anything confidential to communicate, this gentleman may write it.” And with this she left the room, leaving poor Mr. Crow in a state of considerable embarrassment. Resolving to make the best of his difficulty, he returned to the drawing-room, and apologizing to Merl for Miss Martin's absence on matters of great necessity, he conveyed her request that he would stop for luncheon.
“She ain't afraid of me, I hope?” said Merl.
“I trust not. I rather suspect she is little subject to fear upon any score,” replied Crow.
“Well, I must say it's not exactly what I expected. The letter I hold here from the Captain gives me to understand that his cousin will not only receive me, but confer with and counsel me, too, in a somewhat important affair.”
“Oh, I forgot,” broke in Crow; “you are to write to her, she said,—that is, if there really were anything of consequence, which you deemed confidential, you know,—you were to write to her.”
“I never put my hand to paper, Mr. Crow, without well knowing why. When Herman Merl signs anything, he takes time to consider what's in it,” said the Jew, knowingly.