"No, no—her troubles are over," said the factor, with some expression of relief. "There’s one the less for these ignorant, supersteetious creatures hereabouts to fall down and worship, as if they were golden images. She died near a year ago; and would ye believe it, this son o’ hers, instead of having her put into a Christian graveyard, had her buried on the western coast of the island, up on the top of the cliff, and there’s a great white marble slab there, that ye might see for miles off. A nice kind of thing, that! Refusing Christian burial for his own mother! He’s just a Pagan, neither more nor less—a wild savage—fearing neither God nor man—getting drunk every night, I’ll be bound, on that smuggled brandy; and I’m no sure he would scruple to take your life if he found ye in a convenient place. It’s a terrible thing to think of, a human being brought up like that, in a country of law and order and releegion. But I’ve no pity for him, not one jot! He and his have done me sufficient harm; but I’ll be even with him yet—the cheat-the-gallows!" Mary Stanley, though not much of a coward, seemed to shrink back a little in unconscious dismay. She had never seen such venomous rage working in any human creature’s face; and it was rather an appalling kind of thing. But presently Mr. Purdie seemed to recollect himself; this exhibition of overmastering hate was not the best means of propitiating his new mistress; and so, making a determined effort to control himself (and helping himself to another glass of sherry at the same time) he proceeded to talk of business, with a certain constrained, matter-of-fact air. "You said before we came in to dinner, Miss Stanley," he began, in his slow and deliberate way, "that you wished fifteen years’ of the dyke tax to be remitted and returned to the Cruagan crofters. Very well. Whatever is your pleasure. But have you considered what the result will be?" "No," said Mary, "I do not wish to consider. I wish to have the thing done, because I think it is right." "For one matter," said he, "they will take it, and not thank you." "I do not care about that," she made answer. "We will see about the thanks, or no thanks, later on." "But there’s more," said the factor, rousing himself from his forced restraint of manner. "They’ll just begin to think that the time for the universal getting of everything for nothing has come at last; and where will there be an end to their outrageous demands? The ignorant creatures!—they do not know what they want—they’re like children crying for the moon; and they’re encouraged by a set of agitators more ignorant than themselves—people in Parliament, and out of it, that never saw a peat-moss, and don’t know the difference between a hog and a stirk——"