But breaking the furniture, though it was what the widow predicted of him, wouldn’t in any way mend matters, or assist him in getting out of his difficulties.  What was he to do?  He couldn’t live on L200 a-year; he couldn’t remain in Dunmore, to be known by every one as Martin Kelly’s brother-in-law; he couldn’t endure the thoughts of dividing the property with such “a low-born huxtering blackguard”, as he called him over and over again.  He couldn’t stay there, to be beaten by him in the course of legal proceedings, or to give him up amicable possession of what ought to have been—­what should have been his—­what he looked upon as his own.  He came back, and sat down again over the fire, contemplating the debris of the fender, and turning all these miserable circumstances over in his mind.  After remaining there till five o’clock, and having fortified himself with sundry glasses of wine, he formed his resolution.  He would make one struggle more; he would first go down to the widow, and claim his sister, as a poor simple young woman, inveigled away from her natural guardian; and, if this were unsuccessful, as he felt pretty sure it would be, he would take proceedings to prove her a lunatic.  If he failed, he might still delay, and finally put off the marriage; and he was sure he could get some attorney to put him in the way of doing it, and to undertake the work for him.  His late father’s attorney had been a fool, in not breaking the will, or at any rate trying it, and he would go to Daly.  Young Daly, he knew, was a sharp fellow, and wanted practice, and this would just suit him.  And then, if at last he found that nothing could be done by this means, if his sister and the property must go from him, he would compromise the matter with the bridegroom, he would meet him half way, and, raising what money he could on his share of the estate, give leg bail to his creditors, and go to some place abroad, where tidings of Dunmore would never reach him.  What did it matter what people said? he should never hear it.  He would make over the whole property to Kelly, on getting a good life income out of it.  Martin was a prudent fellow, and would jump at such a plan.  As he thought of this, he even began to wish that it was done; he pictured to himself the easy pleasures, the card-tables, the billiard-rooms, and cafes of some Calais or Boulogne; pleasures which he had never known, but which had been so glowingly described to him; and he got almost cheerful again as he felt that, in any way, there might be bright days yet in store for him.

He would, however, still make the last effort for the whole stake.  It would be time enough to give in, and make the best of a pis aller [14], when he was forced to do so.  If beaten, he would make use of Martin Kelly; but he would first try if he couldn’t prove him to be a swindling adventurer, and his sister to be an idiot.

     [Footnote 14:  pis aller—­(French) last resort]