Hycy looked at him with that kind of surprise which is natural to an innocent man, and simply said, “May I ask by whom, Bryan?”

“I may tell you some other time,” replied Bryan, “but I won’t now; all I can say is, that I don’t believe it, and I’m sure that ought to satisfy you.”

“I shall expect you to tell me, Bryan,” said the other, and then after returning a few steps, he caught M’Mahon’s hand again, and shaking it warmly, once more added, “God bless you, Bryan; you are a generous high-minded young fellow, and I only wish I was like you.”

Bryan, after they had separated, felt that Hycy’s advice was the very best possible under the circumstances, and as he had heard for the first time that Chevydale was in the country, he resolved to go at once and state to him the peculiar grievance under which he labored.

Chevydale’s house was somewhat nearer Ahadarra than Fethertonge’s, but on the same line of road, and he accordingly proceeded to the residence of his landlord.  The mansion indeed was a fine one.  It stood on the brow of a gentle eminence, which commanded a glorious prospect of rich and highly cultivated country.  Behind, the landscape rose gradually until it terminated in a range of mountains that protected the house from the north.  The present structure was modern, having been built by old Chevydale, previous to his marriage.  It was large and simple, but so majestic in appearance, that nothing could surpass the harmony that subsisted between its proportions and the magnificent old trees which studded the glorious lawn that surrounded, it, and rose in thick extensive masses that stretched far away behind the house.  It stood in a park, which for the beauties of wood and. water was indeed worthy of its fine simplicity and grandeur—­a park in which it was difficult to say whether the beautiful, the picturesque, or the wild, predominated most.  And yet in this princely residence Mr. Chevydale did not reside more than a month, or at most two, during the whole year.

On reaching the hall-door, M’Mahon inquired from the servant who appeared, if he could see Mr. Chevydale.

“I’m afraid not,” said the servant, “but I will see; what’s your name?”

“Bryan M’Mahon, of Ahadarra, one of his tenants.”

The servant returned to him in a few moments, and said, “Yes, he will see you; follow me.”

Bryan entered a library, where he found his landlord and Fethertonge apparently engaged in business, and as he was in the act of doing so, he overheard Chevydale saying—­“No, no, I shall always see my tenants.”

Bryan made his obeisance in his own plain way, and Chevydale said—­“Are you M’Mahon of Ahadarra?”

“I am, sir,” replied Bryan.

“I thought you were a much older man,” said Chevydale, “there certainly must be, some mistake here,” he added, looking at Fethertonge.

“M’Mahon of Ahadarra was a middle-aged man several years ago, but this person is young enough to be his man.”