The brilliant lustre of the heavy brass knocker, the white and spotless flags of the stone hall, and the immaculate accuracy of the staid footman who opened the door, were types of the prevailing tastes and habits of the proprietor. A mere glance at the orderly arrangement of Mr. Gleeson's study would have confirmed the impression of his strict notions and regularity of discipline: not a book was out of place; the boxes, labelled with high and titled names, were ranged with a drill-like precision upon the shelves; the very letters that lay in the baskets beside the table fell with an attention to staid decorum becoming the rigid habits of the place. The Knight had some minutes to bestow in contemplation of these objects before Gleeson entered; he had only that morning arrived from a distant journey, and was dressing when the Knight was announced. With a bland, soft manner, and an air compounded of diffidence and self-importance, Mr. Gleeson made his approaches. “You have anticipated me, sir,” said he, placing a chair for the Knight; “I had ordered the carriage to call upon you. May I beg you to excuse the question, but my anxiety will not permit me to defer it: there is no truth, or very little, I trust, in the paragraph I 've just read in Carrick's paper--” “About a party at piquet with Lord Drogheda?” interrupted Darcy. “The same.” “Every word of it correct, Gleeson,” said the Knight, who, notwithstanding the occasion, could not control the temptation to laugh at the terrified expression of the agent's face. “But surely the sum was exaggerated; the paper says, the lands and demesne of Ballydermot, with the house, furniture, plate, wine, equipage, garden utensils--” “I 'm not sure that we mentioned the watering-pots,” said Darcy, smiling; “but the wine hogsheads are certainly included.” “A rental of clear three thousand four hundred and seventy-eight pounds, odd shillings, on a lease of lives renewable forever--pepercorn fine!” exclaimed Gleeson, closing his eyes, and folding his hands upon his breast, like a martyr resigning himself to the torture. “So much for going on spades without the head of the suit!” observed the Knight; “and yet any man might have made the same blunder; and then, Heffernan, with his interruption,--altogether, Gleeson, the whole was mismanaged sadly.” “The greater, part of the land tithe free,” moaned Gleeson to himself; “it was a grant from the Crown to your ancestor, Everard Darcy.” “If it was the king gave it, Gleeson, it was the queen lost it.” “The lands of Corrabeg, Dunragheedaghan, and Muscarooney, let at fifteen shillings an acre, with a right to cut turf on the Derryslattery bog! not to speak of Knocksadowd! lost, and no redemption!” “Yes, Gleeson, that's the point I'm coming to; there is a proviso in favor of redemption, whenever your grief will permit you to hear it.”