“And the country, sir? How did you leave it looking?”
“Pretty well, my Lady. More frightened than hurt, as a body might say. They 've had a severe winter, and a great deal of sickness; the rains, too, have done a deal of mischief; but on the whole matters are looking up again.”
“Will the rents be paid, sir?” asked she, sharply.
“Indeed, I hope so, my Lady. Some, of course, will be backward, and beg for time, and a few more will take advantage of Magennis's success, and strive to fight us off.”
“There must have been some gross mismanagement in that business, sir,” broke in her Ladyship. “Had I been at home, I promise you the matter would have ended differently.”
“Mr. Repton directed all the proceedings himself, my Lady. He conferred with Miss Mary.”
“What could a young lady know about such matters?” said she, angrily. “Any prospect of a tenant for the house, sir?”
“If your Ladyship really decides on not going back—”
“Not the slightest intention of doing so, sir. If it depended upon me, I'd rather pull it down and sell the materials than return to live there. You know yourself, sir, the utter barbarism we were obliged to submit to. No intercourse with the world—no society—very frequently no communication by post. Surrounded by a set of ragged creatures, all importunity and idleness, at one moment all defiance and insolence, at the next crawling and abject. But it is really a theme I cannot dwell upon. Give me your letters, sir, and let me see you this evening.” And taking the papers from his hand, she swept out of the room in a haughty state.
The Captain and Mr. Scanlan exchanged looks, and were silent, but their glances were far more intelligible than aught either of them would have ventured to say aloud; and when the attorney's eyes, having followed her Ladyship to the door, turned and rested on the Captain, the other gave a brief short nod of assent, as though to say, “Yes, you are right; she's just the same as ever.”