“Nor more ready and willing, miss,” said Maurice, bowing. “I 'm perfectly certain of that, Mr. Scanlan. The confidence my uncle has always reposed in you assures me on that head.” “Was n't I right about the borough, Miss Mary?” broke he in. “I told you how it would be, and that if you did n't make some sort of a compromise with the Liberal party--” “Let me interrupt you, Mr. Scanlan, and once for all assure you that there is not one subject of all those which pertain to this county and its people which has so little interest for me as the local squabbles of party; and I 'm sure no success on either side is worth the broken friendships and estranged affections it leaves behind it.” “A beautiful sentiment, to which I respond with all my heart,” rejoined Scanlan, with an energy that made her blush deeply. “I only meant to say, sir,” added she, hastily, “that the borough and its politics need never be discussed between us.” “Just so, miss. We'll call on the next case,” said Scanlan. “My uncle's sudden departure, and a slight indisposition under which I have labored for a week or so, have thrown me so far in arrear of all knowledge of what has been done here, that I must first of all ask you, not how the estate is to be managed in future, but does it any longer belong to us?” “What, miss?” cried Scanlan, in amazement. “I mean, sir, is it my uncle's determination to lease out everything,--even to the demesne around the Castle; to sell the timber and dispose of the royalties? If so, a mere residence here could have no object for _me_. It seems strange, Mr. Scanlan, that I should have to ask such a question. I own to you,--it is not without some sense of humiliation that I do so,--I believed, I fancied I had understood my uncle's intentions. Some of them he had even committed to writing, at my request; you shall see them yourself. The excitement and confusion of his departure,--the anxieties of leave-taking,--one thing or another, in short, gave me little time to seek his counsel as to many points I wished to know; and, in fact, I found myself suddenly alone before I was quite prepared for it, and then I fell ill,--a mere passing attack, but enough to unfit me for occupation.” “Breakfast is served, miss,” said a maid-servant, at this conjuncture, opening a door into a small room, where the table was spread. “I'm quite ready, and so I hope is Mr. Scanlan,” said Mary, leading the way. No sooner seated at table than she proceeded to do the honors with an ease that plainly told that all the subject of her late discourse was to be left for the present in abeyance. In fact, the very tone of her voice was changed, as she chatted away carelessly about the borough people and their doings, what strangers had lately passed through the town, and the prospects of the coming season at Kilkieran.