THE BAWN VONE. 135 



If a patient called for him in the morning he was in bed, when notified 

 to him he did not pretend to hear. He walked out, none c.ould tell 

 where he was going ; returning, none knew where he was. 



With a visitor he was all spirits and animation, talked, chatted, 

 joked, recounted his visits abroad, with a zest which showed that it 

 was only at home he could be dull. And she heard all this, and the 

 conclusion shot unutterable pangs to her heart. If she looked sad, 

 and that the visitor kindly enquired as to her health, or tried to 

 arouse her, a contemptuous "never mind her," settled the matter, 

 and some unconscious monosyllable or very brief expression revealed 

 the misery the cutting jealous misery which was corroding within. 

 Yet Mary had no confidante, none to whom she confided or to whom 

 she complained. 



Her own maid, who witnessed all this, could not, even by the strong- 

 est expression of sympathy, draw her into reproaches, or gain liberty 

 for utterance to her own feelings, for, like all Irish girls in her sta- 

 tion, she was warm, kindly, and generous. 



If Mary's natural character was not bright, misfortune had the 

 usual effect upon a moral and conscientious disposition. It elevated 

 her mind. Reproach and neglect made her sensitive. Enduring, 

 she became firm. Poor Mary ! she was stung* from what she was not 

 "into those very claims for admiration which, under different circunj- 

 stances, might not have been brought out. How searching art thou, 

 Misfortune 1 If there be a latent vice or a latent virtue hid in the 

 remotest corner of the heart, thou revealest it, to brand as a reproach 

 or shine as a jewel, thus testing evil or merit, which might have 

 escaped or been concealed under the easy current of undisturbed 

 enjoyment. 



Such was James Lacy at home. What was he abroad ? 



A sluggard, stepping forth to begin the day when others are in the 

 very meridian of activity, is totally incapable of sharing in that em- 

 ployment which, in some shape or other, is allotted to every man. 

 He becomes a mere spectator, to whom the business of life is, as it 

 were, a melodramatic show. Accordingly, nothing passes without 

 his observation ; for without some stimulus his life would be a per- 

 petual yawn. His eyes abroad gape for every sight, his ears open 

 for every sound. He is every where : at the auction, where he never 

 bids ; at the show, which he enjoys not. Then always talking of 

 what others, better engaged, are never seeing; retailing the floating 

 news, which, like a water-spaniel jumping in after sea-weeds, he is 

 ever collecting. He is a bundle of interesting, valueless information, 

 which makes him acceptable for the time the hearer is enjoying it, and 

 no longer. 



To such, eventually, fell James Lacy. He felt that while he was 

 agreeable his importance was gone. He was seldom consulted in his 

 professional capacity, except among some poorer shopkeepers who 

 fancied that the doctor conferred honour as a guest, who took his ad- 

 vice without thinking it of sufficient value for a fee ; but who yet, in 

 return, poured upon him that profuse hospitality which, as it inferred 

 deep potations and late hours, by no means strengthened those nerves 

 which vexation and disappointment, and the conscious incapacity of 

 returning to the right course, had miserably shaken. 



