hemia, after her grandmother. He
had never got over that deadly builder, with his horrid percentage
coming out of the precarious rents; twice, indeed, had writs been out
against him for his arrears, and once he had received notice from Mr.
Hyacinth Keegan, the oily attorney of Carrick, that Mr. Flannelly
meant to foreclose. Rents were greatly in arrear, his credit was
very bad among the dealers in Mohill, with Carrick he had no other
dealings than those to which necessity compelled him with Mr.
Flannelly the builder, and Larry Macdermot was anything but an easy
man.

Thady was at this time about twenty-four. As had been the case with
his father, he had been educated at a country school; he could
read and write, but could do little more: he was brought up to no
profession or business; he acted as his father's agent over the
property--by which I mean to signify that he occupied himself in
harrowing the tenantry for money which they had no means of paying;
he was occasionally head driver and ejector; and he considered, as
Irish landlords are apt to do, that he had an absolute right over
the tenants, as feudal vassals. Still, they respected and to a
certain extent loved him; "for why? wasn't he the masther's son, and
wouldn't he be the masther hisself?" And he had a regard, perhaps
an affection, for the poor creatures; against any one else he
would defend them; and would they but coin their bones into pounds,
shillings, and pence, he would have been as tender to them as a man
so nurtured could be. With all his faults, Thady was perhaps a better
man than his father; he was not so indomitably idle; had he been
brought up to anything, he would have done it; he was more energetic,
and felt the degradation of his position; he felt that his family was
sinking lower and lower daily; but as he knew not what to do, he only
became more gloomy and more tyrannical. Beyond this, he had acquired
a strong taste for tobacco, which he incessantly smoked out of a
dhudheen; and was content to pass his dull life without excitement or
pleasure.

Euphemia, or Feemy, was about twenty; she was a tall, dark girl,
with that bold, upright, well-poised figure, which is so peculiarly
Irish. She walked as if all the blood of the old Irish Princes was
in her veins: her step, at any rate, was princely. Feemy, also, had
large, bright brown eyes, and long, soft, shining dark hair, which
was divided behind, and fell over her shoulders, or was tied with
r