‘Great Ireland--no first flower of the earth or gem of the sea humbug--but Ireland great in prosperity, her harbours full of ships, the woollen trade, her ancient staple, revived: all that vast unused water-power, greater than all the steam of Manchester and Birmingham tenfold, at full work; the linen manufacture developed and promoted--’ ‘And the Union repealed?’ ‘Of course; that should be first of all. Not that I object to the Union, as many do, on the grounds of English ignorance as to Ireland. My dislike is, that, for the sake of carrying through certain measures necessary to Irish interests, I must sit and discuss questions which have no possible concern for me, and touch me no more than the debates in the Cortes, or the Reichskammer at Vienna. What do you or I care for who rules India, or who owns Turkey? What interest of mine is it whether Great Britain has five ironclads or fifty, or whether the Yankees take Canada, and the Russians Kabul?’ ‘You’re a Fenian, and I am not.’ ‘I suppose you’d call yourself an Englishman?’ ‘I am an English subject, and I owe my allegiance to England.’ ‘Perhaps for that matter, I owe some too; but I owe a great many things that I don’t distress myself about paying.’ ‘Whatever your sentiments are on these matters--and, Joe, I am not disposed to think you have any very fixed ones--pray do me the favour to keep them to yourself while under my father’s roof. I can almost promise you he’ll obtrude none of his peculiar opinions on _you_, and I hope you will treat _him_ with a like delicacy.’ ‘What will your folks talk, then? I can’t suppose they care for books, art, or the drama. There is no society, so there can be no gossip. If that yonder be the cabin of one of your tenants, I’ll certainly not start the question of farming.’ ‘There are poor on every estate,’ said Dick curtly. ‘Now what sort of a rent does that fellow pay--five pounds a year?’ ‘More likely five-and-twenty or thirty shillings.’ ‘By Jove, I’d like to set up house in that fashion, and make love to some delicately-nurtured miss, win her affections, and bring her home to such a spot. Wouldn’t that be a touchstone of affection, Dick?’ ‘If I could believe you were in earnest, I’d throw you neck and heels into that bog-hole.’ ‘Oh, if you would!’ cried he, and there was a ring of truthfulness in his voice now there could be no mistaking. Half-ashamed of the emotion his idle speech had called up, and uncertain how best to treat the emergency, Kearney said nothing, and Atlee walked on for miles without a word. ‘You can see the house now. It tops the trees yonder,’ said Dick. ‘That is Kilgobbin Castle, then?’ said Joe slowly. ‘There’s not much of castle left about it. There is a square block of a tower, and you can trace the moat and some remains of outworks.’