“Discretion is not the quality of the low-born and the vulgar,” said she, haughtily; “self-importance alone would render him unsafe. Besides,”—and this she said rapidly,—“there is nothing to detain the man here, when he knows that we accept his conditions.”
“And are we to accept them?” said Martin, anxiously.
“Dare we refuse them? What is the alternative? I suppose what you have done with your Jew friend has been executed legally—formally?”
“Trust him for that; he has left no flaw there!” said Martin, bitterly.
“I was certain of it,” said she, with a scarcely perceptible sneer. “Everything, therefore, has been effected according to law?”
“Yes, I believe so,” replied he, doggedly.
“Then really there is nothing left to us but Scanlan. He objects to Repton; so do I. I always deemed him obtrusive and familiar. In the management of an Irish estate such qualities may be reckoned essential. I know what we should think of them in England, and I know where we should place their possessor.”
“I believe the main question that presses now is, are we to have an estate at all?” said the Captain, bitterly.
“Yes, sir, you have really brought it to that,” rejoined she, with equal asperity.
“Do you consent to his having the agency?” asked Martin, with an immense effort to suppress passion.