nant to me. You hint that I, along
with the rest, have dealt unfairly with my people; but can you prove it?
You can lay to my charge no tales of harshness. In famine times, and
when potatoes failed, in times of misfortune and sickness, I have always
stood your friend, and the friend of every man, woman, and child on my
estate; yet now what harvest do I reap, save grossest ingratitude? yet
what more can I hope for in this most unhappy time, when blood is
unrighteously poured upon the land, and the laws of God and my queen are
set at naught?"

There is a touch of passionate old-world grandeur in the squire's face
and manner that works a sense of admiration in Donovan's breast. But it
quickly gives way to the carefully-cultivated sense of injury that has
been growing within him for months.

"Ye can talk, there's no doubt," he mutters; "but words go for little;
and the fact is, I've got no rent to pay ye."

His tone conveys the idea that he _has_ the rent, but deliberately
refuses to pay it.

"You will bring it on Monday, or I shall evict you," says the Squire
quietly. "You hear?"

"I hear," says the man, with an evil frown. "But ye can't have it all
yer own way now, Misther Desmond. There's others have a voice in the
matther."

"I don't care for innuendoes of that sort, or for any insolence
whatever; I only mean you to fully know that I must live as well as you,
and that therefore I must have my rents."

"I know well enough what ye mane," says the man, with increasing
insolence. "But I'd have you know this, that maybe before long ye'll
whistle another tune. There's them I could mention, as has their eye
upon ye, an' will keep it there till justice is done."

"Meaning, until I give up Coole itself to the mob," says the squire,
with a sneer.

"Ay, _even_ that, it may be," says the man, with unswerving defiance.

"You dare to threaten me?" says The Desmond, throwing up his head
haughtily, and drawing some steps nearer to his tenant.

"I only say what is likely to prove truth before long," returns the man,
sturdily, and giving in an inch. "That we'll have no more tyranny, but
will have a blow for our rights, if we swing for it."

"You can shoot me when and where you like," says Desmond, with a shrug.
"But I am afraid it will do you no good."

"It will be a lesson to the others," says the man between his teeth.

"To _you_ others,--yes; because it will make my heir somewhat harder on
you than I am. The Desmonds