The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II)Lever, Charles
History
The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II)
Lever, Charles
Ireland -- History -- 1800-1837 -- Fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
We have said that there was a little chapel within the bounds of the
demesne; it occupied a corner of a ruin which once had formed Cro'
Martin Abbey, and now served for the village church. It was very small,
but still large enough for its little congregation. The vicar of this
humble benefice was a very old man, a widower, and childless, though
once the father of a numerous family. Dr. Leslie had, some eighteen
years back, been unfortunate enough to incur her Ladyship's displeasure,
and was consequently never invited to the castle, nor recognized in any
way, save by the haughty salute that met him as he left the church. To
save him, however, a long and tedious walk on Sundays, he was permitted
to make use of a little private path to the church, which led through
one of the shrubberies adjoining his own house,--a concession of the
more consequence as he was too poor to keep a carriage of the humblest
kind. This was now ordered to be closed up, the gate removed, and a wall
to replace it. “The poor had got the habit of coming that way; it was
never intended for their use, but they had usurped it. To-morrow or
next day we should hear of its being claimed at law as a public right
of passage. It was better to do the thing in time. In short, it must
be 'closed.'” By some such reasoning as this Lady Dorothea persuaded
herself to this course; and who should gainsay her? Oh, if men would
employ but one tenth of all that casuistry by which they minister to
their selfishness, in acts of benevolence and good feeling,--if they
would only use a little sophistry, to induce them to do right,--what a
world this might be!
Mary Martin knew nothing of these decisions; overwhelmed by the vast
changes on every side, almost crushed beneath the difficulties that
surrounded her, her first few weeks passed over like a disturbed dream.
Groups of idle, unemployed people saluted her in mournful silence as she
passed the roads. Interrupted works, half-executed plans met her eye at
every turn, and at every moment the same words rang in her ears--“Her
Ladyship's orders”--as the explanation of all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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