Mr. Cashel. 'I took
a dislike to him from the very hour I came here.' And then he went on
to speak about the dirt and neglect about the gate-lodge, the ragged
appearance of the children--even your own looks displeased him; in fact,
I saw plainly that somehow you had contrived to make him your enemy,
not merely of a few days' standing, but actually from the moment of his
first meeting you. Kennyfeck, though not your friend, behaved better
than I expected: he said that to turn you out was to leave you to
starve; that there was no employment to be had in the country; that your
children were all young and helpless; that you were not accustomed to
daily labor; indeed, he made out your case to be a very hard one, and
backed as it was by myself, I hoped that we should have succeeded; but,
as I said before, Mr. Cashel, for some reason of his own, or perhaps
without any reason, hates you. He has resolved that out you shall go,
and go you must!"

Keane said nothing, but sat moodily moving his foot backwards and
forwards on the gravel.

"For Mr. Cashel's sake, I 'm not sorry the lot has fallen upon a
quiet-tempered fellow like yourself; there are plenty here who would n't
bear the hardship so patiently."

Keane looked up, and the keen twinkle of his gray eyes seemed to read
the other's very thoughts. Linton, so proof against the searching
glances of the well-bred world, actually cowered under the vulgar stare
of the peasant.

"So you think he's lucky that I 'm not one of the Drumcoologan boys?"
said Keane; and his features assumed a smile of almost insolent meaning.

"They're bold fellows, I've heard," said Linton, "and quick to resent an
injury."

"Maybe there's others just as ready," said he, doggedly.

"Many are ready to feel one," said Linton; "that I'm well aware of. The
difference is that some men sit down under their sorrows, crestfallen
and beaten; others rise above them, and make their injuries the road to
fortune. And really, much as people say against this 'wild justice' of
the people, when we consider they have no other possible--that the law
is ever against them--that their own right hand alone is their defence
against oppression--one cannot wonder that many a tyrant landlord falls
beneath the stroke of the ruined tenant, and particularly when the
tyranny dies with the tyrant."

Keane listened greedily, but spoke not; and Linton went on,--

"It so often happens that, as in the present case, by the death of