rdant patriotism the dispute concerning the
reduction was resumed.

'Give us the land all round at the Government valuation,' said a man in
the middle of the group.

'Why, you are only fifteen per cent. above the valuation,' cried Mr.
Scully.

For a moment this seemed to create a difference of opinion among the
peasants; but the League had drawn them too firmly together to be thus
easily divided. They talked amongst themselves in Irish. Then the old
man said:

'We can't take less than thirty, yer honour. The Lague wouldn't let us.'

'I can't give you more than twenty.'

'Thin let us come on home, thin; no use us wasting our toime here,'
cried a sturdy peasant, who, although he had spoken but seldom, seemed
to exercise an authority over the others. With one accord they followed
him; but, rushing forward, Mr. Scully seized him by the arm, saying:

'Now then, boys, come back, come back; he'll settle with you right
enough if you'll listen to reason.'

From the drawing-room window Mrs. Barton watched the conflict. On one
side she saw her daughter's beautiful white face becoming the prize of a
penniless officer; on the other she saw the pretty furniture, the
luxurious idleness, the very silk dress on her back, being torn from
them, and distributed among a crowd of Irish-speaking, pig-keeping
peasants. She could see that some new and important point was being
argued; and it was with a wrench she detached her thoughts from the
pantomime that was being enacted within her view, and, turning to
Captain Hibbert, said:

'You see--you see what is happening. We are--that is to say, we may
be--ruined at any moment by this wicked agitation. As I have said
before, there is no one I should like so much as yourself; but, in the
face of such a future, how could I consent to give you my
daughter?--that is to say, I could not unless you could settle at least
a thousand a year upon her. She has been brought up in every luxury.'

'That may be, Mrs. Barton. I hope to give her quite as comfortable a
home as any she has been accustomed to. But a thousand a year is
impossible. I haven't got it. But I can settle five hundred on her, and
there's many a peeress of the realm who hasn't that. Of course five
hundred a year is very little. No one feels it more than I. For had I
the riches of the world, I should not consider them sufficient to create
a place worthy of Olive's beauty. But love must be allowed to count for
something, and I think