What was poor little Margaret Power to do?  She was only a child.  She knew nothing of the world.  She was accustomed to obey her father as she would have obeyed some evil genius who had her in his power.  There were tears and lamentations.  She was frightened half to death; yet for her there was no help.  Therefore, while not yet fifteen her marriage took place, and she was the unhappy slave of a half-crazy tyrant.  She had then no beauty whatsoever.  She was wholly undeveloped—­thin and pale, and with rough hair that fell over her frightened eyes; yet Farmer wanted her, and he settled his money on her, just as he would have spent the same amount to gratify any other sudden whim.

The life she led with him for a few months showed him to be more of a devil than a man.  He took a peculiar delight in terrifying her, in subjecting her to every sort of outrage; nor did he refrain even from beating her with his fists.  The girl could stand a great deal, but this was too much.  She returned to her father’s house, where she was received with the bitterest reproaches, but where, at least, she was safe from harm, since her possession of a dowry made her a person of some small importance.

Not long afterward Captain Farmer fell into a dispute with his colonel, Lord Caledon, and in the course of it he drew his sword on his commanding officer.  The court-martial which was convened to try him would probably have had him shot were it not for the very general belief that he was insane.  So he was simply cashiered and obliged to leave the service and betake himself elsewhere.  Thus the girl whom, he had married was quite free—­free to leave her wretched home and even to leave Ireland.

She did leave Ireland and establish herself in London, where she had some acquaintances, among them the Earl of Blessington.  As already said, he had met her in Ireland while she was living with her husband; and now from time to time he saw her in a friendly way.  After the death of his wife he became infatuated with Margaret Farmer.  She was a good deal alone, and his attentions gave her entertainment.  Her past experience led her to have no real belief in love.  She had become, however, in a small way interested in literature and art, with an eager ambition to be known as a writer.  As it happened, Captain Farmer, whose name she bore, had died some months before Lord Blessington had decided to make a new marriage.  The earl proposed to Margaret Farmer, and the two were married by special license.

The Countess of Blessington—­to give the lady her new title—­was now twenty-eight years of age and had developed into a woman of great beauty.  She was noted for the peculiarly vivacious and radiant expression which was always on her face.  She had a kind of vivid loveliness accompanied by grace, simplicity, and a form of exquisite proportions.  The ugly duckling had become a swan, for now there was no trace of her former plainness to be seen.