“Oh, Mr. Dennis, I’m glad to see you as kind as your promise, meeting me here,” said the widow O’Neil, walking up to him; “I’m sure you’ll speak a good word for me: here’s the _lases_--who will I offer this to?” said she, holding the _glove-money_ and _sealing-money_, “for I’m strange and ashamed.” “Oh, don’t be ashamed--there’s no strangeness in bringing money or taking it,” said Mr. Nicholas Garraghty, holding out his hand. “Is this the proper compliment?” “I hope so, sir: your honour knows best.” “Very well,” slipping it into his private purse. “Now what’s your business?” “The _lases_ to sign--the rent’s all paid up.” “Leases! Why, woman, is the possession given up?” “It was, _plase_ your honour; and Mr. Dennis has the key of our little place in his pocket.” “Then I hope he’ll keep it there. _Your_ little place--it’s no longer yours; I’ve promised it to the surveyor. You don’t think I’m such a fool as to renew to you at this rent.” “Mr. Dennis named the rent. But any thing your honour _plases_--any thing at all that we can pay.” “Oh, it’s out of the question--put it out of your head. No rent you can offer would do, for I have promised it to the surveyor.” “Sir, Mr. Dennis knows my lord gave us his promise in writing of a renewal, on the back of the _ould lase_.” “Produce it.” “Here’s the _lase_, but the promise is rubbed out.” “Nonsense! coming to me with a promise that’s rubbed out. Who’ll listen to that in a court of justice, do you think?” “I don’t know, plase your honour; but this I’m sure of, my lord and Miss Nugent, though but a child at the time, God bless her! who was by when my lord wrote it with his pencil, will remember it.” “Miss Nugent! what can she know of business?--What has she to do with the management of my Lord Clonbrony’s estate, pray?” “Management!--no, sir.” “Do you wish to get Miss Nugent turned out of the house?” “Oh, God forbid!--how could that be?” “Very easily; if you set about to make her meddle and witness in what my lord does not choose.” “Well, then, I’ll never mention Miss Nugent’s name in it at all, if it was ever so with me. But be _plased_, sir, to write over to my lord, and ask him; I’m sure he’ll remember it.” “Write to my lord about such a trifle--trouble him about such nonsense!” “I’d be sorry to trouble him. Then take it on my word, and believe me, sir; for I would not tell a lie, nor cheat rich or poor, if in my power, for the whole estate, nor the whole world: for there’s an eye above.” “Cant! nonsense!--Take those leases off the table; I never will sign them. Walk off, ye canting hag; it’s an imposition--I will never sign them.”