THE MOORES OF MOORE'S COURT.

BY DENIS F. HANNIGAN.

CHAPTER XVIII.

So, then you have often transacted business through Sharkey's agency, Mr. Callanan ?”

"Oh! yes; very frequently, Sir Annesley."

"You have, I dare say, made him your agent in advancing money by way of loan?"

"Excuse me, Sir Annesley: this touches on my private affairs; and I always make it a rule to keep them a secret from the outer world."

"Oh! I wished merely to get some idea of your mode of transacting business generally, as it is just possible we may have some little negotiations one of these days."

"I shall be glad to do anything in my power to accommodate you, Sir Annesley; but I must confess I am a little squeamish where business is concerned.”

"I dare say your punctilio is quite proper, though I must confess it appears rather novel to me. But it is surely no breach of confidence to let me know whether any transaction that I might have occasion to enter into with you, could be managed by Sharkey as well as if I dealt directly with you myself."

Mr. Callanan stared at the baronet, who seemed to be a little confused, and to be awkwardly trying to hide his confusion under a veil of circumlocution.

The dialogue between them, of which a portion has been given above, was held in the library, into which the baronet had led Mr. Callanan almost immediately after dinner. Indeed, Sir Annesley had refrained from lingering over his wine as long as usual, as if the matter he wished to speak about were weighing heavily on his mind.

The room was in partial darkness, for the evening was already far advanced ; and the stained-glass windows, which almost shut out the sun in the full radiance of noon, admitted only a faint gleam in the deepening twilight. The two figures, seated at opposite sides of the table, were both in shadow; but the baronet could see his companion's face, which was turned fully towards him. Few, indeed, would think, judging from those imperturbable features, that this man had passed through such a variety of painful emotions only a short time before. Mr. Callanan looked as calm and unruffled as if his nature were undisturbed by the faintest breath of passion.

"Mr. Sharkey is not your family lawyer, I suppose, Sir Annesley?" said Mr. Callanan, after an awkward pause.

“Well, I may say he has acted as my legal adviser during the last two years-since my father's lawyer, Gregory, died. I believe Sharkey knows more about my affairs, at present, than any other."

"Indeed!"

"He has procured some money for me occasionally," the baronet went on, with that indiscretion which generally attends on mental confusion. "I have had occasion to procure a few loans, you see, as the estate had got slightly-slightly-embarrassed." Sir Annesley brought out the last word with a great gulp.

"Indeed!" Mr. Callanan's impassive face gave no indication of the effect which this information had upon him.

"Yes; the fact is, Mr. Callanan, I would be able to clear off the burdens of the estate by a little management, if I could only procure about ten thousand pounds. I would sell some of the timber, and might get a higher rent for some of the farms, which are at present let at rather too low a figure."

The baronet here paused rather abruptly, as if he were in some doubt as to the wisdom of revealing so much of his affairs to Mr. Callanan; but when a man's necessities are very great, he cannot be quite mealy-mouthed with one to whom he looks for help.

"The encumbrances on the estate must be very considerable," said Mr. Callanan slowly.

"No doubt, they are considerable," returned the baronet, revolving his thumbs uneasily; “but I should be quite confident of paying them off, if I could procure the amount I mentioned. Perhaps you could let me have that sum at a fair interest through our friend Sharkey ?"

Mr. Callanan shook his head very decisively. “I fear I am not in a position to accommodate you in that way at present, Sir Annesley. I have no money to spare beyond my immediate wants."

“But I understood that you were-excuse me for mentioning it, but it is the general report-one of the richest men in Cork." "I would advise you not to trust to rumour on such points, Sir Annesley," said Mr. Callanan, gravely. "But I think you slightly misunderstood my words. The fact is, I have all my money invested at present; some of it is lent out on mortgage— some of it on other securities. Indeed, I could not, at this moment, spare five hundred pounds in cash."

On hearing this intelligence, Sir Annesley at first appeared rather chapfallen; but in a few moments his face resumed its old expression of overweening self-importance.

"It doesn't matter," he said, with well-affected indifference. "Of course, I shall find very little difficulty in arranging the matter. The gentry sometimes get a little embarrassed, you

know, owing to unforeseen contingencies; but these things must rectify themselves. Of course, it would be impossible to replace the existing aristocracy with safety to the Government. The Legislature would, I am sure, if necessary, provide a means for retaining them in the country. Besides, Sharkey will find a way soon out of the difficulty. I need scarcely observe, Mr. Callanan, that what I have just said is in the very strictest confidence."

If Sir Annesley could see Mr. Callanan's face at that moment, he would read in it, perhaps, an expression of contempt; but the library was, by this time, in almost total darkness.

"You may be assured, Sir Annesley, that I know how to appreciate a privileged communication," was the courteous rejoinder to the baronet's last words.

"Well, it is rather awkward, Mr. Callanan, that you have not the money to spare at present. It might be of some advantage to both of us."

"Both?" Mr. Callanan repeated almost involuntarily.

"Why, yes. You would have had your interest; and I would have been able to manage my affairs out of hand."

"Interest is not of much consequence to me," said Mr. Callanan, coldly.

"Really you surprise me, Mr. Callanan. Is it not one of the first considerations of every man of business?"

"Well, so you may think, Sir Annesley. It is not my first consideration, at any rate."

"It is growing quite dark here," said the baronet, as he arose from his seat. "We had better return to the ladies."

Accordingly, they left the library together, and proceeded towards the drawing-room, where they found only Lady Moore and Rose; for Frank had brought his two aunts out for an evening walk, and Charles and Miss Quain were, to use Rose's words, "moping somewhere about the house."

The expression of uneasiness in Sir Annesley's face did not escape the observation of Lady Moore; but she had sufficient tact to avoid all reference to it in Mr. Callanan's presence.

"So we lose your society to-morrow, Mr. Callanan," she said, politely.

"I don't suppose the loss will be a very serious one, Lady Moore," replied Mr. Callanan. "My society is, I fear, rather dull."

"Oh! dear, no," said her ladyship, with a courteous smile. But surely you could stay until the end of the week?"

"I am a man of business, Lady Moore," he returned, “and could not afford to lose another day."

"Does business then require such unremitting attention?" asked Rose, with a sneer.

Business requires careful superintendence, Miss Moore," said Mr. Callanan, looking at the girl with some curiosity. Perhaps he

was thinking over the old woman's account of the family curse, and asking himself whether she was to be the last of the Moores.

"Could not any common person conduct business well, as the phrase is?" Rose enquired, with a sarcastic expression of countenance. I have heard it said that persons of the meanest capacity and vulgarest mind succeeded best at business."

"You take a very narrow view of the question, Miss Moore, if you will excuse for telling you so."

"Well, it matters little, I am sure," said Rose contemptuously. "I was merely alluding to an opinion I once heard expressed. It may have been incorrect."

"You are young, Miss Moore," observed Mr. Callanan gravely. "Experience will teach you to look at things in a different light. Commerce is the very life-blood of society; for, without it, culture and social refinement would be impossible."

"But has it not a tendency to make men base and sordid?” Rose asked, with passionate warmth.

"I cannot see why that should necessarily be so," said Mr. Callanan.

"You must not pay any attention to this child's silly notions, Mr. Callanan," Lady Moore smilingly interposed.

"Oh! she is, by no means silly, madam, if you'll allow me to say so," said Mr. Callanan quickly. "She seems to think for herself, which is often a sign of a powerful mind, though sometimes a dangerous thing."

"I cannot see anything noble in commerce," said Rose, who, seemed indifferent to these remarks upon her mental peculiarities. "Commercial people have a habit of regarding everything as a question of buying and selling-a mere matter of profit and loss. Indeed, they carry this notion so far that they seem to considereven honour itself a marketable commodity."

To this observation Mr. Callanan vouchsafed no reply, though his face scemed to become quite pallid for a few moments, as if he were moved by some strong emotion. An embarrassing silence followed, which was broken by the entrance of Aunt Deborah and Mrs. Donovan, followed by their nephew, who was humming. one of Burns's most celebrated songs with his usual light-hearted gaiety.

CHAPTER XIX.

SAUNTERING along the garden that evening, his heart filled with a strange and inexplicable sense of depression, Charles Callanan suddenly came face to face with the very subject of his reverieMiss Quain.

"How strange," he murmured, "and yet how fortunate is this meeting!"

"Accident seems to bring us often together, Mr. Callanan," she returned, with some embarrassment.

"Let us rather say Fate!" cried Charles, with an energy that at once astonished and alarmed her. "I did not expect to meet you here this evening, but I am heartily glad that I have met you; for, as this is the last evening I shall spend at Moore's Court, I was most anxious to have a few parting words with you."

The governess looked into his face quietly and sadly. It was not hard to read the emotion that flashed in his eyes and trembled on his lips.

"I have been thinking of you very much of late, Miss Quain," he said, with unusual rapidity of utterance. "Your image has been constantly before my mind ; and I know that when I leave this place I shall bear it away with me." Miss Quain's pale features flushed for a moment, and she cast down her eyes upon the ground, without uttering a single word. It could scarcely be said that she possessed much beauty in the ordinary sense. Her figure wanted that delicate softness of outline which we generally associate with perfection of form, and her face had none of that rich colouring which distinguishes blooming womanhood from the lifeless symmetry of a Grecian statue. Yet, who with a mind capable of penetrating beneath the surface of things, could gaze upon that clear, noble brow, those sweet, thoughtful-looking eyes, in whose depths a guileless soul was mirrored, and those delicatelycut lips, full of chaste enthusiasm, without feeling that here was a loveliness far higher than that which merely appeals to the coarse testimony of the senses? Charles had pictured her in his own imagination toiling with heart and brain to maintain a helpless parent, in a world which rewards its noblest workers with a niggard hand. She seemed to have bartered away the freshness and gladness of youth, submitted her will to the dull routine of a school-room, and her feelings to the continual slights and sneers of those who regarded her as a mere passive drudge. Yet, amid all this petty torture, that was surely enough to fritter away her existence, she preserved a serenity of temper and a rare cheerfulness of spirit that, to Charles's mind, appeared simply heroic. Filled as he was with hatred of social wrongs, and a belief that the law of kindness was cruelly violated by the world's usages, his heart was drawn towards her the more strongly on account of her unmerited sufferings and unmurmuring endurance.

The hour and the place seemed made for tender thoughts and soul-dissolving emotions. The faint shadows of twilight were gathering around them, and the west was empurpled by the rich colours of the sunset. The gathering darkness seemed to throw a shadowy mantle over the flowers themselves, for their shining petals were already losing half their brightness. The air was not stirred by even the faintest breeze. In the softness of hue that overspread every surrounding object, till light and shade seemed