“There goes the first dinner-bell, Miss Martin,” said Repton, gayly. “I'm resolved to be in the drawing-room before you!” And with this he hopped briskly upstairs, while Mary hastened to her room to dress. CHAPTER XV. “A RUINED FORTUNE” No stronger contrast could be presented than that offered by the house which called Mr. Magennis master, to all the splendor and elegance which distinguished Cro' Martin. Built on the side of a bleak, barren mountain, without a trace of cultivation,--not even a tree beside it,--the coarse stone walls, high pitched roof, and narrow windows seemed all devised in some spirit of derision towards its graceful neighbor. A low wall, coped with a formidable “frieze” of broken bottles and crockery, enclosed a space in front once destined for a garden, but left in its original state of shingle, intermixed with the remnants of building materials and scaffold planks. A long shed, abutting on the house, sheltered a cow and a horse; the latter standing with his head above a rickety half-door, and looking ruefully out at the dismal landscape beneath him. Most of the windows were broken,--and in some no attempt at repair had been made,--indicating that the rooms within were left unused. The hall-door stood ajar, but fastened by a strong iron chain; but the roof, more than all besides, bespoke decay and neglect, the rafters being in many places totally bare, while in others some rude attempts at tiling compensated for the want of the original slates. A strong colony of jackdaws had established themselves in one of the chimneys; but from another, in the centre of the building, a thick volume of dark-blue smoke rolled continually, conveying, indeed, the only sign of habitation about this dreary abode. The inside of the house was, if possible, more cheerless than the out. Most of the rooms had never been finished, and still remained in their coarse brown plaster, and unprovided with grates or chimney-pieces. The parlor, _par excellence_, was a long, low-ceilinged chamber, with yellow-ochre walls, dimly lighted by two narrow windows; its furniture, a piece of ragged carpet beneath a rickety table of black mahogany, some half-dozen crazy chairs, and a small sideboard, surmounted by something that might mean buffet or bookcase, and now served for both, being indifferently garnished with glasses, decanters, and thumbed volumes, intermingled with salt-cellars, empty sauce-bottles, and a powder-flask. An atrociously painted picture of an officer in scarlet uniform hung over the fireplace, surmounted by an infantry sword, suspended by a much-worn sash. These were the sole decorations of the room, to which even the great turf fire that blazed on the hearth could not impart a look of comfort.