"A young lady saddle a horse!" interrupted Nelly.
"Sure she could do it as well as any man; for she had been, as you might say, brought up with horses,—more was the pity! So she saddled the mare herself, and was off for a gallop before any of them was up; and when Martin, who was head-groom, came to the stable, there was the mare gone and the door unlocked. Here was a pretty to-do! At first, Martin thought the baste had been stolen; but then he remembered that she would never let a stranger touch her; and, looking about, he picked up Miss Una's handkerchief; which she had dropped in the stall. That gave him a guess at the truth; and while he was standing debating in his own mind what to do, up comes Miss Una, with the mare all in a foam. She started and laughed when she saw Martin standing there."
"'Ah, Martin, so you have caught me! but I was too quick for you,' said she, giving her head a saucy toss, and looking beautiful, my uncle said. 'I'm determined not to lose my rides on Pooka,' said she, patting, the mare's neck."
"'And what am I to say to Sir Patrick?' said Martin."
"'What you like,' answered Miss Una, with another toss; 'only you will repent if you tell tales; that's all.'"
"She wasn't much of a lady, anyhow," observed Nelly.
"We won't be hard upon her," said granny, gravely. "She was a motherless girl from her birth, and had grown up as wild as a hawk, petted by her father out of all reason one day and crossed out of all reason the next. Well, you see, my dear, Martin was between two fires if Sir Patrick knew that he had let Miss Una ride the mare, he would be turned off, and may-be thrashed into the bargain,—for Sir Patrick was a violent man; and again, if he made an enemy of Miss Una, he knew what that would come to; for she was sure to have her own way with her father, by hook or by crook, and it was a boast with that family that they never forgot a friend or forgave an enemy; and the latter part was true, whether the former was or not."
"The right way would have been the brave way,—of telling the truth, and doing as he was bid; but Martin was afraid to do that. So he rubbed down the mare and did the best he could with her; and when Sir Patrick noticed that she did not seem fresh, he made some excuse, being mighty knowledgable about horses. So every morning Miss Una takes a gallop on the mare, and Martin saddles the beast for her; for he thought that was one risk the less, anyhow. And Miss Una—poor dear!—was wonderful pleased with having her own way, and gave Martin and Martin's wife many a present; for she was laundress at the house, which was another reason that Martin was afraid to tell."
"But now see the end. One morning, Pooka had been more than commonly vicious and spiteful, and Martin begged and prayed Miss Una, on his knees almost, not to ride her; but all in vain. He might as well have talked to the mountain-torrent. So away she went in her beauty and her pride; but she never, never came back alive."
"Martin waited and waited, blaming himself all the time, and wishing, too late, that he had done the straightforward thing at first. Well, it came breakfast-time, and Miss Una was not there, nor in her room; and there was great wonderment where she could be, and no little alarm and stir; for you must know there had been a love-affair between her and her cousin, whom Sir Patrick had forbidden the house; and the first thing every one thought, was that Miss Una had gone off with her cousin."