you think so, Temple?"

"I wish I could see myself gibbeted, as you call it."

"If the will makes the way, we ought to be very great people," said
she, with a smile, half derisive, half real. "Jack, perhaps not; nor
Ellen. They have booked themselves in second-class carriages."

"I'll go and look up Harding; he is a secret sort of a fellow. I believe
all agents assume that manner to every one but the head of the house and
the heir. But perhaps I could manage to find out why these people have
not called upon us; there must be something in it."

"I protest I think we ought to feel grateful to them; an exchange of
hospitalities with them would be awful."

"Very likely; but I think we ought to have had the choice, and this they
have not given us."

"And even for that I am grateful," said she, as with a haughty look she
rose and left the room.

CHAPTER VI. UP IN THE MOUNTAINS.

About eighteen miles from Bishop's Folly, and in the very midst of the
Mourne Mountains, a low spur of land projects into the sea by a thin,
narrow promontory, so narrow, indeed, that in days of heavy sea and
strong wind, the waves have been seen to meet across it. Some benevolent
individual had once conceived the idea of planting a small lighthouse
here, as a boon to the fishermen who frequent the coast. The lighthouse
was built, but never occupied, and after standing some years in a state
of half ruin, was turned into a sort of humble inn or shebeen, most
probably a mere pretext to cover its real employment as a depot for
smuggled goods; for in the days of high duties French silks and brandies
found many channels into Ireland besides the road that lay through
her Majesty's customs. Mr., or, as he was more generally called, Tim
Mackessy, the proprietor, was a well-known man in those parts. He
followed what in Ireland for some years back has been as much a
profession as law or physic, and occasionally a more lucrative line than
either,--Patriotism. He was one of those ready, voluble, self-asserting
fellows, who abound in Ireland, but whose favor is not the less with
their countrymen from the fact of their frequency. He had, he said, a
father, who suffered for his country in ninety-eight; and he had
himself maintained the family traditions by being twice imprisoned in
Carrickfergus jail, and narrowly escaping transportation for life.
On the credit of this martyrdom, and the fact that Mr. O'Connell once
called him "honest Tim Mackessy,"