“He said five per cent,” continued Scanlan, “and I made no objection; for, to tell you the truth, I expected he'd have asked us six,--he's generally a hard hand to deal with.” It was evident that he hoped her curiosity might have inquired the name of him thus alluded to; but she never did so, but heard the fact with a calm indifference. Scanlan was uneasy; his heaviest artillery had opened no breach. What should be his next manouvre? “The money-market is tight just now,” said he, speaking only to gain time for further observation; “and there's worse times even before us.” If Mary heard, she did not notice this gloomy speculation. “I 'm sure it will be no easy job to get the last November rent paid up. It was a bad crop; and now there 's sickness coming amongst them,” said he, half as though to himself. “You'll have to excuse me to-day, Mr. Scanlan,” said she, at last. “I find I can think of nothing; I am in one of my idle moods.” “To be sure, why not, Miss Mary?” said he, evidently piqued at the ill-success of all his zeal. “It was _I_ made a mistake. I fancied, somehow, you were anxious about this little matter; but another day will do as well,--whenever it's your own convenience.” “You are always considerate, always good-natured, Mr. Scanlan,” said she, with a vagueness that showed she was scarcely conscious of what she uttered. “If _you_ think so, Miss Mary, I 'm well repaid,” said he, with a dash of gallantry in the tone; “nor is it by a trifle like this I'd like to show my--my--my--devotion.” And the last word came out with an effort that made his face crimson. “Yes,” muttered she, not hearing one word of his speech. “So that I'll come over to-morrow, Miss Mary,” broke he in. “Very well, to-morrow!” replied she, as still musing she turned to the window, no more thinking of the luckless attorney than if he had been miles away; and when at length she did look round, he was gone! It was some minutes ere Mary could perfectly reconcile herself to the fact that he had been there at all; but as to how and when and why he took his leave, were mysteries of which she could make nothing. And yet Mr. Scanlan had gone through a very ceremonious farewell. He had bowed, and sidled, and simpered, and smirked, and sighed; had thrown himself into attitudes pictorially devoted and despairing, looked unutterable things in various styles, and finally made an exit, covered with as much shame and discomfiture as so confident a spirit could well experience, muttering, as he paced the corridor, certain prospective reprisals for this haughty indifference, when a certain time should arrive, and a certain fair lady--But we have no right to push his speculations further than he himself indulged them; and on the present occasion Maurice was less sanguine than his wont. “I fed the mare, sir,” said Barnes, as he held the stirrup for Scanlan to mount. “And gave her water, too,” said the attorney, doggedly.