"Well--suppose they are?"

"Exactly so: personal debts of your own. Why, when you've made some
final arrangement about the property, you must make some other
arrangement with your creditors. But that's quite a separate affair;
you don't expect Martin Kelly to pay your debts, I suppose?"

"But I might get a sum of money for the good-will, mightn't I?"

"I don't think Martin's able to put a large sum down. I'll tell you
what I think you might ask; and what I think he would give, to get
your good-will and consent to the match, and to prevent any further
difficulty. I think he'd become your tenant, for the whole of your
share, at a rent of five-hundred a year; and maybe he'd give you three
hundred pounds for the furniture and stock, and things about the place.
If so, you should give him a laise of three lives."

There was a good deal in this proposition that was pleasing to Barry's
mind: five hundred a-year without any trouble in collecting it; the
power of living abroad in the unrestrained indulgence of hotels and
billiard rooms; the probable chance of being able to retain his income
and bilk his creditors; the prospect of shaking off from himself the
consequences of a connection with the Kellys, and being for ever rid of
Dunmore encumbrances. These things all opened before his eyes a vista
of future, idle, uncontrolled enjoyment, just suited to his taste, and
strongly tempted him at once to close with Daly's offer. But still,
he could hardly bring himself to consent to be vanquished by his own
sister; it was wormwood to him to think that after all she should be
left to the undisturbed enjoyment of her father's legacy. He had been
brow-beaten by the widow, insulted by young Kelly, cowed and silenced