“There's a great trial going on at the assizes to-day, and Mr. Barry is gone on to Oughterard to hear it, and he has the only pair of posters in the place.”
“What a confounded hole!” burst out Merl, passionately. “That I ever should have set my foot in it! How are we to get through the day here? Have you thought of anything to be done?”
“I'll go down and find out how poor Landy is,” said Crow; “for Miss Mary's horse is still at the door, and he must be very bad, indeed, or she wouldn't delay so long.”
“And what if it should turn out the cholera, or typhus, or something as bad?”
“Well?” said Crow, interrogatively; for he could not guess the drift of the suggestion.
“Simply this, my worthy friend,” resumed Merl,—“that I have no fancy for the pleasure of your company at dinner after such an excursion as you speak of.”
“I was just going to say that myself,” said Crow. “Good-bye!” And before Merl could interpose a word, he was gone.
CHAPTER XII. MR. MERL'S MEDITATIONS.
Our last chapter left Mr. Herman Merl in bad company,—he was alone. Now, very few men's thoughts are companionable in the dreary solitude of a sorry inn. None of us, it is to be feared, are totally exempt from “this world's crosses;” and though the sorrows of life do fall very unequally, the light afflictions are accepted as very heavy burdens by those to whose lot they fall!