ds I spoke
about that woman. She married that poor lad to serve her own purposes
and to spite her lover; and while he doted on her, she just looked down
on him, and scouted his people because they were in trade. She pretty
nearly ruined him with her fine lady-like ways, and with pestering him
for money that he had not got; and then, when he made that slip of his,
and was almost crazy with the sin and the shame, she just gives him
up--will have nothing more to do with him. And that is the woman that
the Almighty made so fair outside that our poor foolish lad went half
wild for the love of her! No, sir; if you will excuse me, I will just
send Mat along, and keep in the background a bit. It makes me grind my
teeth with pain and anger to hear how she treated the poor fellow,
almost driving him mad with her bitter tongue!'

'Then in that case I will certainly not keep you.' And as he spoke he
noticed how the vigorous old man seemed to totter as he rose from his
chair; but he only shook his head with the same gentle smile as Michael
offered him his arm.

'Nay, Captain; that is not needed. I am only a bit shaken with all
that's passed, and you must give me time to right myself. Now I will
send Mat in; and when you have finished I'll see you again.'

Michael did not have to wait long. He had only crossed the room to look
at a photograph of Susan O'Brien which always stood on a little round
table in the corner, when he found the light suddenly intercepted, as
Matthew O'Brien's tall figure blocked up the little window.

To his surprise, Mat commenced the conversation quite easily:

'You are looking at Susan, Captain Burnett? That was taken twelve or
thirteen years ago. Isn't it a kind, true face?--that is better than a
handsome one in the long-run. She does not look as though she would
desert a man when his head is under water--eh, Captain?'

'No, indeed!' returned Michael, falling at once into the other man's
humour. 'Mrs. O'Brien must have been a thoroughly good woman, for her
husband never seems to have got over her loss; he is always talking
about her.'

'That is so like Tom! He was never given to keep a silent tongue in his
head: he must always speak out his thoughts, good or bad. That is rather
different from me. Why, I have often spent days without opening my
mouth, except to call to my dog. I think Tom finds it a relief to talk;
the sound of his own tongue soothes him.'

'Very likely. Shall we sit down, Mr. O'Bri