“I don't care to look at it till she herself is here!” said old Nelligan, taking his wife's arm, and leading her away across the lawn, and in the direction of the stables. There was that in his moody preoccupation which did not encourage her to venture on a word, and so she went along at his side in silence. “You're to have the black horses, Mr. Nelligan,” said Scanlan, overtaking him. Nelligan nodded. “You 've got a cheap pair of nags, and as good as gold,” continued he. A dry half-smile was all the reply. “Mr. Martin bred them himself,” Scanlan went on, “and no price would have bought them three weeks ago; but everything is going for a song to-day! I don't know how I 'll muster courage to tell them the results of the sale!” “You 'll have courage for more than that,” said Nelligan. And although only a chance shot, it fell into a magazine; for Scanlan grew crimson, and then pale, and seemed ready to faint. Nelligan stared with amazement at the effect his few words had produced, and then passed on; while the attorney muttered between his teeth, “Can he suspect me? Is it possible that I have betrayed myself?” No, Maurice Scanlan. Be of good cheer, your secret is safe. No one has as much as the very barest suspicion that the pettifogging practitioner aspires to the hand of Mary Martin; nor even in the darkest dreams of that house's downfall has such a humiliation obtruded itself anywhere! CHAPTER XXVI. “REVERSES” Ours is a very practical age, and no matter how skilfully a man play the game of life, there is but one test of his ability,--did he win? If this condition attend him, his actions meet charitable construction. His doings are all favorably regarded; and while his capacity is extolled, even his shortcomings are extenuated. We dread an unlucky man! There is a kind of contagion in calamity, and we shun him as though he were plague-stricken. But with what flatteries we greet the successful one! That he reached the goal is the sure guarantee of his merits; and woe to him who would canvass the rectitude of his progress! Defeat is such a leveller! Genius and dulness, courage and pusillanimity, high-hearted hope and wasting energy, are all confounded together by failure, and the world would only smile at any effort to discriminate between them. Perhaps in the main the system works well. Perhaps mankind, incapable of judging motives, too impatient to investigate causes, is wise in adopting a short cut for its decisions. Certain it is, the rule is absolute that proclaims Success to be Desert!