ld go? Hem!--hem!"
The girl started in her turn, and exclaimed, with a good deal of
surprise:
"Sir Thomas insisted! How did you come to know that, sir? I tould you
no such thing."
"Certainly, my dear, you--a--a--hem--did you not say something to that
effect? Perhaps, however," he added, apprehensive lest he might have
alarmed, or rather excited her suspicions--"perhaps I was mistaken. I
only imagined, I suppose, that you said something to that effect; but it
does not matter--I have no intimacy with the Gourlays, I assure you--I
think that is what you call them--and none at all with Sir Thomas--is
not that his name? Goodby now; I shall take a walk through the town--how
is this you name it? Ballytrain, I think--and return at five, when I
trust you will have dinner ready."
He then put on his hat, and sauntered out, apparently to view the town
and its environs, fully satisfied that, in consequence of his having
left it when a boy, and of the changes which time and travel had wrought
in his appearance, no living individual there could possibly recognize
him.
CHAPTER II. The Town and its Inhabitants.
The town itself contained about six thousand inhabitants, had a church,
a chapel, a meeting-house, and also a place of worship for those who
belonged to the Methodist connection, It was nearly half a mile long,
lay nearly due north and south, and ran up an elevation or slight hill,
and down again on the other side, where it tapered away into a string of
cabins. It is scarcely necessary to say that it contained a main street,
three or four with less pretensions, together with a tribe of those vile
alleys which consist of a double row of beggarly cabins, or huts, facing
each other, and lying so closely, that a tall man might almost stand
with a foot on the threshold of each, or if in the middle, that is
half-way between them, he might, were he so inclined, and without moving
to either side, shake hands with the inhabitants on his right and left.
To the left, as you went up from the north, and nearly adjoining the
cathedral church, which faced you, stood a bishop's palace, behind which
lay a magnificent demesne. At that time, it is but just to say that
the chimneys of this princely residence were never smokeless, nor its
saloons silent and deserted as they are now, and have been for years.
No, the din of industry was then incessant in and about the offices of
that palace, and the song of many a light heart and h
|