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diff --git a/old/51936-0.txt b/old/51936-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ffe073a..0000000 --- a/old/51936-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6706 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Daireen - Volume 1 of 2 - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51936] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -DAIREEN - -Volume 1 of 2 - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - - -(Transcriber's Note: Chapters XX to XXIV were taken from a print -copy of a different edition as these chapters were missing from the 1889 -print edition from which the rest of the Project Gutenberg edition was -taken. In the inserted four chapters it will be noted that the normal -double quotation marks were printed as single quote marks.) - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - - A king - - Upon whose property... - - A damn'd defeat was made. - - A king - - Of shreds and patches. - -The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must -the inheritor himself have no more? _Hamlet._ - - -|MY son,” said The Macnamara with an air of grandeur, “my son, you've -forgotten what's due”--he pronounced it “jew”--“to yourself, what's -due to your father, what's due to your forefathers that bled,” and -The Macnamara waved his hand gracefully; then, taking advantage of its -proximity to the edge of the table, he made a powerful but ineffectual -attempt to pull himself to his feet. Finding himself baffled by the -peculiar formation of his chair, and not having a reserve of breath to -draw upon for another exertion, he concealed his defeat under a pretence -of feeling indifferent on the matter of rising, and continued fingering -the table-edge as if endeavouring to read the initials which had been -carved pretty deeply upon the oak by a humorous guest just where his -hand rested. “Yes, my son, you've forgotten the blood of your ancient -sires. You forget, my son, that you're the offspring of the Macnamaras -and the O'Dermots, kings of Munster in the days when there were kings, -and when the Geralds were walking about in blue paint in the woods -of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain”--The Macnamara said -“barbarious.” - -“The Geralds have been at Suanmara for four hundred years,” said -Standish quickly, and in the tone of one resenting an aspersion. - -“Four hundred years!” cried The Macnamara scornfully. “Four hundred -years! What's four hundred years in the existence of a family?” He felt -that this was the exact instant for him to rise grandly to his feet, -so once more he made the essay, but without a satisfactory result. As -a matter of fact, it is almost impossible to release oneself from the -embrace of a heavy oak chair when the seat has been formed of light -cane, and this cane has become tattered. - -“I don't care about the kings of Munster--no, not a bit,” said Standish, -taking a mean advantage of the involuntary captivity of his father to -insult him. - -“I'm dead sick hearing about them. They never did anything for me.” - -The Macnamara threw back his head, clasped his hands over his bosom, -and gazed up to the cobwebs of the oak ceiling. “My sires--shades of -the Macnamaras and the O'Dermots, visit not the iniquity of the children -upon the fathers,” he exclaimed. And then there came a solemn pause -which the hereditary monarch felt should impress his son deeply; but -the son was not deceived into fancying that his father was overcome with -emotion; he knew very well that his father was only thinking how with -dignity he could extricate himself from his awkward chair, and so he -was not deeply affected. “My boy, my boy,” the father murmured in a weak -voice, after his apostrophe to the shades of the ceiling, “what do you -mean to do? Keep nothing secret from me, Standish; I'll stand by you to -the last.” - -“I don't mean to do anything. There is nothing to be done--at -least--yet.” - -“What's that you say? Nothing to be done? You don't mean to say you've -been thrifling with the young-woman's affection? Never shall a son of -mine, and the offspring of The Macnamaras and the----” - -“How can you put such a question to me?” said the young man indignantly. -“I throw back the insinuation in your teeth, though you are my father. -I would scorn to trifle with the feelings of any lady, not to speak of -Miss Gerald, who is purer than the lily that blooms----” - -“In the valley of Shanganagh--that's what you said in the poem, my boy; -and it's true, I'm sure.” - -“But because you find a scrap of poetry in my writing you fancy that I -forget my--my duty--my----” - -“Mighty sires, Standish; say the word at once, man. Well, maybe I was -too hasty, my boy; and if you tell me that you don't love her now, I'll -forgive all.” - -“Never,” cried the young man, with the vehemence of a mediaeval burning -martyr. “I swear that I love her, and that it would be impossible for me -ever to think of any one else.” - -“This is cruel--cruel!” murmured The Macnamara, still thinking how he -could extricate himself from his uneasy seat. “It is cruel for a father, -but it must be borne--it must be borne. If our ancient house is to -degenerate to a Saxon's level, I'm not to blame. Standish, my boy, I -forgive you. Take your father's hand.” - -He stretched out his hand, and the young man took it. The grasp of The -Macnamara was fervent--it did not relax until he had accomplished the -end he had in view, and had pulled himself to his feet. Standish was -about to leave the room, when his father, turning his eyes away from -the tattered cane-work of the chair, that now closely resembled the -star-trap in a pantomime, cried: - -“Don't go yet, sir. This isn't to end here. Didn't you tell me that your -affection was set upon this daughter of the Geralds?” - -“What is the use of continuing such questions?” cried the young man -impatiently. The reiteration by his father of this theme--the most -sacred to Standish's ears--was exasperating. - -“No son of mine will be let sneak out of an affair like this,” said -the hereditary monarch. “We may be poor, sir, poor as a bogtrotter's -dog----” - -“And we are,” interposed Standish bitterly. - -“But we have still the memories of the grand old times to live upon, -and the name of Macnamara was never joined with anything but honour. You -love that daughter of the Geralds--you've confessed it; and though the -family she belongs to is one of these mushroom growths that's springing -up around us in three or four hundred years--ay, in spite of the upstart -family she belongs to, I'll give my consent to your happiness. We -mustn't be proud in these days, my son, though the blood of kings--eh, -where do ye mean to be going before I've done?” - -“I thought you had finished.” - -“Did you? well, you're mistaken. You don't stir from here until you've -promised me to make all the amends in your power to this daughter of the -Geralds.” - -“Amends? I don't understand you.” - -“Don't you tell me you love her?” - -The refrain which was so delightful to the young man's ears when he -uttered it alone by night under the pure stars, sounded terrible when -reiterated by his father. But what could he do--his father was now upon -his feet? - -“What is the use of profaning her name in this fashion?” cried Standish. -“If I said I loved her, it was only when you accused me of it and -threatened to turn me out of the house.” - -“And out of the house you'll go if you don't give me a straightforward -answer.” - -“I don't care,” cried Standish doggedly. “What is there here that should -make me afraid of your threat? I want to be turned out. I'm sick of this -place.” - -“Heavens! what has come over the boy that he has taken to speaking like -this? Are ye demented, my son?” - -“No such thing,” said Standish. “Only I have been thinking for the past -few days over my position here, and I have come to the conclusion that I -couldn't be worse off.” - -“You've been thinking, have you?” asked The Macnamara contemptuously. -“You depart so far from the traditions of your family? Well, well,” - he continued in an altered tone, after a pause, “maybe I've been a bad -father to you, Standish, maybe I've neglected my duty; maybe----” here -The Macnamara felt for his pocket-handkerchief, and having found it, he -waved it spasmodically, and was about to throw himself into his chair -when he recollected its defects and refrained, even though he was well -aware that he was thereby sacrificing much of the dramatic effect up to -which he had been working. - -“No, father; I don't want to say that you have been anything but good to -me, only----” - -“But I say it, my son,” said The Macnamara, mopping his brows earnestly -with his handkerchief. “I've been a selfish old man, haven't I, now?” - -“No, no, anything but that. You have only been too good. You have given -me all I ever wanted--except----” - -“Except what? Ah, I know what you mean--except money. Ah, your reproach -is bitter--bitter; but I deserve it all, I do.” - -“No, father: I did not say that at all.” - -“But I'll show you, my boy, that your father can be generous once of a -time. You love her, don't you, Standish?” - -His father had laid his hand upon his shoulder now, and spoke the words -in a sentimental whisper, so that they did not sound so profane as -before. - -“I worship the ground she treads on,” his son answered, tremulous with -eagerness, a girlish blush suffusing his cheeks and invading the curls -upon his forehead, as he turned his head away. - -“Then I'll show you that I can be generous. You shall have her, Standish -Macnamara; I'll give her to you, though she is one of the new families. -Put on your hat, my boy, and come out with me.” - -“Are you going out?” said Standish. - -“I am, so order round the car, if the spring is mended. It should be, -for I gave Eugene the cord for it yesterday.” - -Standish made a slight pause at the door as if about to put another -question to his father; after a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he -passed out in silence. - -When the door had closed--or, at least, moved upon its hinges, for the -shifting some years previously of a portion of the framework made its -closing an impossibility--The Macnamara put his hands deep into -his pockets, jingling the copper coins and the iron keys that each -receptacle contained. It is wonderful what suggestions of wealth may be -given by the judicious handling of a few coppers and a bunch of keys, -and the imagination of The Macnamara being particularly sanguine, he -felt that the most scrupulous moneylender would have offered him at that -moment, on the security of his personal appearance and the sounds of his -jingling metal, any sum of money he might have named. He rather wished -that such a moneylender would drop in. But soon his thoughts changed. -The jingling in his pockets became modified, resembling in tone an -unsound peal of muffled bells; he shook his head several times. - -“Macnamara, my lad, you were too weak,” he muttered to himself. “You -yielded too soon; you should have stood out for a while; but how could I -stand out when I was sitting in that trap?” - -He turned round glaring at the chair which he blamed as the cause of -his premature relaxation. He seemed measuring its probable capacities of -resistance; and then he raised his right foot and scrutinised the boot -that covered it. It was not a trustworthy boot, he knew. Once more he -glanced towards the chair, then with a sigh he put his foot down and -walked to the window. - -Past the window at this instant the car was moving, drawn by a -humble-minded horse, which in its turn was drawn by a boy in a faded -and dilapidated livery that had evidently been originally made for -a remarkably tall man. The length of the garment, though undeniably -embarrassing in the region of the sleeves, had still its advantages, not -the least of which was the concealment of a large portion of the bare -legs of the wearer; it was obvious too that when he should mount his -seat, the boy's bare feet would be effectually hidden, and from a -livery-wearing standpoint this would certainly be worth consideration. - -The Macnamara gave a critical glance through the single transparent -pane of the window--the pane had been honoured above its fellows by a -polishing about six weeks before--and saw that the defective spring of -the vehicle had been repaired. Coarse twine had been employed for this -purpose; but as this material, though undoubtedly excellent in its way, -and of very general utility, is hardly the most suitable for restoring -a steel spring to its original condition of elasticity, there was a good -deal of jerkiness apparent in the motion of the car, especially when -the wheels turned into the numerous ruts of the drive. The boy at the -horse's head was, however, skilful in avoiding the deeper depths, and -the animal was also most considerate in its gait, checking within itself -any unseemly outburst of spirit and restraining every propensity to -break into a trot. - -“Now, father, I'm ready,” said Standish, entering with his hat on. - -“Has Eugene brushed my hat?” asked The Macnamara. - -“My black hat, I mean?” - -“I didn't know you were going to wear it today, when you were only -taking a drive,” said Standish with some astonishment. - -“Yes, my boy, I'll wear the black hat, please God, so get it brushed; -and tell him that if he uses the blacking-brush this time I'll have his -life.” Standish went out to deliver these messages; but The Mac-namara -stood in the centre of the big room pondering over some weighty -question. - -“I will,” he muttered, as though a better impulse of his nature were -in the act of overcoming an unworthy suggestion. “Yes, I will; when I'm -wearing the black hat things should be levelled up to that standard; -yes, I will.” - -Standish entered in a few minutes with his father's hat--a tall, -old-fashioned silk hat that had at one time, pretty far remote, been -black. The Macnamara put it on carefully, after he had just touched the -edges with his coat-cuff to remove the least suspicion of dust; then he -strode out followed by his son. - -The car was standing at the hall door, and Eugene the driver was beside -it, giving a last look to the cordage of the spring. When The Macnamara, -however, appeared, he sprang up and touched his forehead, with a smile -of remarkable breadth. The Macnamara stood impassive, and in dignified -silence, looking first at the horse, then at the car, and finally at the -boy Eugene, while Standish remained at the other side. Eugene bore the -gaze of the hereditary monarch pretty well on the whole, conscious of -the abundance of his own coat. The scrutiny of The Macnamara passed -gradually down the somewhat irregular row of buttons until it rested -on the protruding bare feet of the boy. Then after another moment of -impressive silence, he waved one hand gracefully towards the door, -saying: - -“Eugene, get on your boots.” - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - - Let the world take note - - You are the most immediate to our throne; - - And with no less nobility of love - - Than that which dearest father bears his son - - Do I impart toward you. - - How is it that the clouds still hang on you? - - Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl. - - Hamlet. - - -|WHEN the head of a community has, after due deliberation, resolved upon -the carrying out of any bold social step, he may expect to meet with the -opposition that invariably obstructs the reformer's advance; so that -one is tempted--nay, modern statesmanship compels one--to believe that -secrecy until a projected design is fully matured is a wise, or at least -an effective, policy. The military stratagem of a surprise is frequently -attended with good results in dealing with an enemy, and as a friendly -policy why should it not succeed? - -This was, beyond a question, the course of thought pursued by The -Macnamara before he uttered those words to Eugene. He had not given -the order without careful deliberation, but when he had come to the -conclusion that circumstances demanded the taking of so bold a step, he -had not hesitated in his utterance. - -Eugene was indeed surprised, and so also was Standish. The driver took -off his hat and passed his fingers through his hair, looking down to -his bare feet, for he was in the habit of getting a few weeks of warning -before a similar order to that just uttered by his master was given to -him. - -“Do you hear, or are you going to wait till the horse has frozen to the -sod?” inquired The Macnamara; and this brought the mind of the boy out -of the labyrinth of wonder into which it had strayed. He threw down the -whip and the reins, and, tucking up the voluminous skirts of his -coat, ran round the house, commenting briefly as he went along on the -remarkable aspect things were assuming. - -Entering the kitchen from the rear, where an old man and two old women -were sitting with short pipes alight, he cried, “What's the world comin' -to at all? I've got to put on me boots.” - -“Holy Saint Bridget,” cried a pious old woman, “he's to put on his -brogues! An' is it The Mac has bid ye, Eugene?” - -“Sorra a sowl ilse. So just shake a coal in iviry fut to thaw thim a -bit, alana.” - -While the old woman was performing this operation over the turf fire, -there was some discussion as to what was the nature of the circumstances -that demanded such an unusual proceeding on the part of The Macnamara. - -“It's only The Mac himsilf that sames to know--. knock the ashes well -about the hale, ma'am--for Masther Standish was as much put out as -mesilf whin The Mac says--nivir moind the toes, ma'am, me fut'll nivir -go more nor halfways up the sowl--says he, 'Git on yer boots;' as if it -was the ordinarist thing in the world;--now I'll thry an' squaze me fut -in.” And he took the immense boot so soon as the fiery ashes had been -emptied from its cavity. - -“The Mac's pride'll have a fall,” remarked the old man in the corner -sagaciously. - -“I shouldn't wondher,” said Eugene, pulling on one of the boots. -“The spring is patched with hemp, but it's as loikely to give way as -not--holy Biddy, ye've left a hot coal just at the instep that's made -its way to me bone!” But in spite of this catastrophe, the boy trudged -off to the car, his coat's tails flapping like the foresail of a yacht -brought up to the wind. Then he cautiously mounted his seat in front of -the car, letting a boot protrude effectively on each side of the narrow -board. The Macnamara and his son, who had exchanged no word during the -short absence of Eugene in the kitchen, then took their places, the -horse was aroused from its slumber, and they all passed down the long -dilapidated avenue and through the broad entrance between the great -mouldering pillars overclung with ivy and strange tangled weeds, where a -gate had once been, but where now only a rough pole was drawn across to -prevent the trespass of strange animals. - -Truly pitiful it was to see such signs of dilapidation everywhere -around this demesne of Innishdermot. The house itself was an immense, -irregularly built, rambling castle. Three-quarters of it was in utter -ruin, but it had needed the combined efforts of eight hundred years of -time and a thousand of Cromwell's soldiers to reduce the walls to the -condition in which they were at present. The five rooms of the building -that were habitable belonged to a comparatively new wing, which was -supported on the eastern side by the gable of a small chapel, and on the -western by the wall of a great round tower which stood like a demolished -sugar-loaf high above all the ruins, and lodged a select number of -immense owls whose eyesight was so extremely sensitive, it required an -unusual amount of darkness for its preservation. - -This was the habitation of The Macnamaras, hereditary kings of Munster, -and here it was that the existing representative of the royal family -lived with his only son, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara. In front of the -pile stretched a park, or rather what had once been a park, but which -was now wild and tangled as any wood. It straggled down to the coastway -of the lough, which, with as many windings as a Norwegian fjord, brought -the green waves of the Atlantic for twenty miles between coasts a -thousand feet in height--coasts which were black and precipitous and -pierced with a hundred mighty caves about the headlands of the entrance, -but which became wooded and more gentle of slope towards the narrow -termination of the basin. The entire of one coastway, from the cliffs -that broke the wild buffet of the ocean rollers, to the little island -that lay at the narrowing of the waters, was the property of The -Macnamara. This was all that had been left to the house which had once -held sway over two hundred miles of coastway, from the kingdom of -Kerry to Achill Island, and a hundred miles of riverway. Pasturages -the richest of the world, lake-lands the most beautiful, mountains the -grandest, woods and moors--all had been ruled over by The Macnamaras, -and of all, only a strip of coastway and a ruined castle remained to -the representative of the ancient house, who was now passing on a -jaunting-car between the dilapidated pillars at the entrance to his -desolate demesne. - -On a small hill that came in sight so soon as the car had passed from -under the gaunt fantastic branches that threw themselves over the -wall at the roadside, as if making a scrambling clutch at something -indefinite in the air, a ruined tower stood out in relief against the -blue sky of this August day. Seeing the ruin in this land of ruins The -Macnamara sighed heavily--too heavily to allow of any one fancying that -his emotion was natural. - -“Ah, my son, the times have changed,” he said. “Only a few years have -passed--six hundred or so--since young Brian Macnamara left that very -castle to ask the daughter of the great Desmond of the Lake in marriage. -How did he go out, my boy?” - -“You don't mean that we are now----” - -“How did he go out?” again asked The Macnamara, interrupting his son's -words of astonishment. “He went out of that castle with three hundred -and sixty-five knights--for he had as many knights as there are days -in the year.”--Here Eugene, who only caught the phonetic sense of this -remarkable fact regarding young Brian Macnamara, gave a grin, which his -master detected and chastised by a blow from his stick upon the mighty -livery coat. - -“But, father,” said Standish, after the trifling excitement occasioned -by this episode had died away--“but, father, we are surely not -going----” - -“Hush, my son. The young Brian and his retinue went out one August day -like this; and with him was the hundred harpers, the fifty pipers, and -the thirteen noble chiefs of the Lakes, all mounted on the finest of -steeds, and the morning sun glittering on their gems and jewels as if -they had been drops of dew. And so they rode to the castle of Desmond, -and when he shut the gates in the face of the noble retinue and sent -out a haughty message that, because the young Prince Brian had slain The -Desmond's two sons, he would not admit him as a suitor to his daughter, -the noble young prince burnt The Desmond's tower to the ground and -carried off the daughter, who, as the bards all agree, was the loveliest -of her sex. Ah, that was a wooing worthy of The Mac-namaras. These -are the degenerate days when a prince of The Macnamaras goes on a -broken-down car to ask the hand of a daughter of the Geralds.” Here a -low whistle escaped from Eugene, and he looked down at his boots just as -The Macnamara delivered another rebuke to him of the same nature as the -former. - -“But we're not going to--to--Suanmara!” cried Standish in dismay. - -“Then where are we going, maybe you'll tell me?” said his father. - -“Not there--not there; you never said you were going there. Why should -we go there?” - -“Just for the same reason that your noble forefather Brian Macnamara -went to the tower of The Desmond,” said the father, leaving it to -Standish to determine which of the noble acts of the somewhat impetuous -young prince their present excursion was designed to emulate. - -“Do you mean to say, father, that--that--oh, no one could think of such -a thing as----” - -“My son,” said the hereditary monarch coolly, “you made a confession -to me this morning that only leaves me one course. The honour of The -Macnamaras is at stake, and as the representative of the family it's -my duty to preserve it untarnished. When a son of mine confesses his -affection for a lady, the only course he can pursue towards her is to -marry her, let her even be a Gerald.” - -“I won't go on such a fool's errand,” cried the young man. “She--her -grandfather--they would laugh at such a proposal.” - -“The Desmond laughed, and what came of it, my boy?” said the Macnamara -sternly. - -“I will not go on any farther,” cried Standish, unawed by the reference -to the consequences of the inopportune hilarity of The Desmond. “How -could you think that I would have the presumption to fancy for the least -moment that--that--she--that is--that they would listen to--to anything -I might say? Oh, the idea is absurd!” - -“My boy, I am the head of the line of The Munster Macnamaras, and the -head always decides in delicate matters like this. I'll not have the -feeling's of the lady trifled with even by a son of my own. Didn't you -confess all to me?” - -“I will not go on,” the young man cried again. “She--that is--they -will think that we mean an affront--and it is a gross insult to her--to -them--to even fancy that--oh, if we were anything but what we are there -would be some hope--some chance; if I had only been allowed my own way I -might have won her in time--long years perhaps, but still some time. But -now----” - -“Recreant son of a noble house, have you no more spirit than a Saxon?” - said the father, trying to assume a dignified position, an attempt that -the jerking of the imperfect spring of the vehicle frustrated. “Mightn't -the noblest family in Europe think it an honour to be allied with The -Munster Macnamaras, penniless though we are?” - -“Don't go to-day, father,” said Standish, almost piteously; “no, not -to-day. It is too sudden--my mind is not made up.” - -“But mine is, my boy. Haven't I prepared everything so that there can -be no mistake?”--here he pressed his tall hat more firmly upon -his forehead, and glanced towards Eugene's boots that projected a -considerable way beyond the line of the car. “My boy,” he continued, -“The Macnamaras descend to ally themselves with any other family only -for the sake of keeping up the race. It's their solemn duty.' - -“I'll not go on any farther on such an errand--I will not be such a -fool,” said Standish, making a movement on his side of the car. - -“My boy,” said The Macnamara unconcernedly, “my boy, you can get off -at any moment; your presence will make no difference in the matter. -The matrimonial alliances of The Macnamaras are family matters, not -individual. The head of the race only is accountable to posterity for -the consequences of the acts of them under him. I'm the head of the -race.” He removed his hat and looked upward, somewhat jerkily, but still -impressively. - -Standish Macnamara's eyes flashed and his hands clenched themselves over -the rail of the car, but he did not make any attempt to carry out his -threat of getting off. He did not utter another word. How could he? It -was torture to him to hear his father discuss beneath the ear of the boy -Eugene such a question as his confession of love for a certain lady. -It was terrible for him to observe the expression of interest which -was apparent upon the ingenuous face of Eugene, and to see his nods -of approval at the words of The Macnamara. What could poor Standish do -beyond closing his teeth very tightly and clenching his hands madly as -the car jerked its way along the coast of Lough Suangorm, in view of a -portion of the loveliest scenery in the world? - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - - How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable - - Seem to me all the uses of this world. - - Gather by him, as he is behaved, - - If't be the affliction of his love or no - - That thus he suffers for. - - Break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. - - Hamlet. - - -|THE road upon which the car was driving was made round an elevated part -of the coast of the lough. It curved away from where the castle of The -Macnamaras was situated on one side of the water, to the termination -of the lough. It did not slope downwards in the least at any part, but -swept on to the opposite lofty shore, five hundred feet above the great -rollers from the Atlantic that spent themselves amongst the half-hidden -rocks. - -The car jerked on in silence after The Macnamara had spoken his -impressive sentence. Standish's hands soon relaxed their passionate hold -upon the rail of the car, and, in spite of his consciousness of being -twenty-three years of age, he found it almost impossible to restrain his -tears of mortification from bursting their bonds. He knew how pure--how -fervent--how exhaustless was the love that filled all his heart. He had -been loving, not without hope, but without utterance, for years, and now -all the fruit of his patience--of his years of speechlessness--would be -blighted by the ridiculous action of his father. What would now be left -for him in the world? he asked himself, and the despairing tears of his -heart gave him his only answer. - -He was on the seaward side of the car, which was now passing out of the -green shade of the boughs that for three miles overhung the road. Then -as the curve of the termination of the lough was approached, the full -panorama of sea and coast leapt into view, with all the magical glamour -those wizards Motion and Height can enweave round a scene. Far beneath, -the narrow band of blue water lost itself amongst the steep cliffs. -The double coasts of the lough that were joined at the point of vision, -broadened out in undulating heights towards the mighty headlands of -the entrance, that lifted up their hoary brows as the lion-waves of -the Atlantic leapt between them and crouched in unwieldy bulk at their -bases. Far away stretched that ocean, its horizon lost in mist; and -above the line of rugged coast-cliff arose mountains--mighty masses -tumbled together in black confusion, like Titanic gladiators locked in -the close throes of the wrestle. - -Never before had the familiar scene so taken Standish in its arms, so to -speak, as it did now. He felt it. He looked down at the screen islands -of the lough encircled with the floss of the moving waters; he looked -along the slopes of the coasts with the ruins of ancient days on their -summits, then his eyes went out to where the sun dipped towards the -Atlantic, and he felt no more that passion of mortification which his -reflections had aroused. Quickly as it had sprung into view the scene -dissolved, as the car entered a glen, dim in the shadow of a great -hill whose slope, swathed in purple heather to its highest peak, made a -twilight at noon-day to all beneath. In the distance of the winding -road beyond the dark edge of the mountain were seen the gray ridges of -another range running far inland. With the twilight shadow of the glen, -the shadow seemed to come again over the mind of Standish. He gave -himself up to his own sad thoughts, and when, from a black tarn amongst -the low pine-trees beneath the road, a tall heron rose and fled -silently through the silent air to the foot of the slope, he regarded it -ominously, as he would have done a raven. - -There they sat speechless upon the car. The Macnamara, who was a short, -middle-aged man with a rather highly-coloured face, and features that -not even the most malignant could pronounce of a Roman or even of a -Saxon type, was sitting in silent dignity of which he seemed by no -means unconscious Standish, who was tall, slender almost to a point -of lankness, and gray-eyed, was morosely speechless, his father felt. -Nature had not given The Macnamara a son after his own heart. The young -man's features, that had at one time showed great promise of developing -into the pure Milesian, had not fulfilled the early hope they had raised -in his father's bosom; they had within the past twelve years exhibited -a downward tendency that was not in keeping with the traditions of The -Macnamaras. If the direction of the caressing hand of Nature over -the features of the family should be reversed, what would remain -to distinguish The Macnamaras from their Saxon invaders? This was a -question whose weight had for some time oppressed the representative -of the race; and he could only quiet his apprehension by the assurance -which forced itself upon his mind, that Nature would never persist in -any course prejudicial to her own interests in the maintenance of an -irreproachable type of manhood. - -Then it was a great grief to the father to become aware of the fact that -the speech of Standish was all unlike his own in accent; it was, indeed, -terribly like the ordinary Saxon speech--at least it sounded so to The -Macnamara, whose vowels were diphthongic to a marked degree. But of -course the most distressing reflection of the head of the race had -reference to the mental disqualifications of his son to sustain the -position which he would some day have to occupy as The Macnamara; for -Standish had of late shown a tendency to accept the position accorded -to him by the enemies of his race, and to allow that there existed -a certain unwritten statute of limitations in the maintenance of the -divine right of monarchs. He actually seemed to be under the impression -that because nine hundred years had elapsed since a Macnamara had been -the acknowledged king of Munster, the claim to be regarded as a royal -family should not be strongly urged. This was very terrible to The -Macnamara. And now he reflected upon all these matters as he held in -a fixed and fervent grasp the somewhat untrustworthy rail of the -undoubtedly shaky vehicle. - -Thus in silence the car was driven through the dim glen, until the slope -on the seaward-side of the road dwindled away and once more the sea came -in sight; and, with the first glimpse of the sea, the square tower of -an old, though not an ancient, castle that stood half hidden by trees at -the base of the purple mountain. In a few minutes the car pulled up at -the entrance gate to a walled demesne. - -“Will yer honours git off here?” asked Eugene, preparing to throw the -reins down. - -“Never!” cried The Macnamara emphatically. “Never will the head of the -race descend to walk up to the door of a foreigner. Drive up to the very -hall, Eugene, as the great Brian Macnamara would have done.” - -“An' it's hopin' I am that his car-sphrings wouldn't be mindid with -hemp,” remarked the boy, as he pulled the horse round and urged his mild -career through the great pillars at the entrance. - -Everything about this place gave signs of having been cared for. The -avenue was long, but it could be traversed without any risk of the -vehicle being lost in the landslip of a rut. The grass around the trees, -though by no means trimmed at the edges, was still not dank with weeds, -and the trees themselves, if old, had none of the gauntness apparent in -all the timber about the castle of The Macnamara. As the car went along -there was visible every now and again the flash of branching antlers -among the green foliage, and more than once the stately head of a red -deer appeared gazing at the visitors, motionless, as if the animal had -been a painted statue. - -The castle, opposite whose black oak door Eugene at last dropped his -reins, was by no means an imposing building. It was large and square, -and at one wing stood the square ivy-covered tower that was seen from -the road. Above it rose the great dark mountain ridge, and in front -rolled the Atlantic, for the trees prevented the shoreway from being -seen. - -“Eugene, knock at the door of the Geralds,” said The Macnamara from his -seat on the car, with a dignity the emphasis of which would have been -diminished had he dismounted. - -Eugene--looked upward at this order, shook his head in wonderment, and -then got down, but not with quite the same expedition as his boot, which -could not sustain the severe test of being suspended for any time in the -air. He had not fully secured it again on his bare foot before a laugh -sounded from the balcony over the porch--a laugh that made Standish's -face redder than any rose--that made Eugene glance up with a grin and -touch his hat, even before a girl's voice was heard saying: - -“Oh, Eugene, Eugene! What a clumsy fellow you are, to be sure.” - -“Ah, don't be a sayin' of that, Miss Daireen, ma'am,” the boy replied, -as he gave a final stamp to secure possession of the boot. - -The Macnamara looked up and gravely removed his hat; but Standish having -got down from the car turned his gaze seawards. Had he followed his -father's example, he would have seen the laughing face and the graceful -figure of a girl leaning over the balustrade of the porch surveying the -group beneath her. - -“And how do you do, Macnamara?” she said. “No, no, don't let Eugene -knock; all the dogs are asleep except King Cormac, and I am too grateful -to allow their rest to be broken. I'll go down and give you entrance.” - -She disappeared from the balcony, and in a few moments the hall door -was softly sundered and the western sunlight fell about the form of the -portress. The girl was tall and exquisitely moulded, from her little -blue shoe to her rich brown hair, over which the sun made light and -shade; her face was slightly flushed with her rapid descent and the -quick kiss of the sunlight, and her eyes were of the most gracious gray -that ever shone or laughed or wept. But her mouth--it was a visible -song. It expressed all that song is capable of suggesting--passion of -love or of anger, comfort of hope or of charity. - -“Enter, O my king-,” she said, giving The Macnamara her hand; then -turning to Standish, “How do you do, Standish? Why do you not come in?” - -But Standish uttered no word. He took her hand for a second and followed -his father into the big square oaken hall. All were black oak, floor and -wall and ceiling, only while the sunlight leapt through the open door -was the sombre hue relieved by the flashing of the arms that lined the -walls, and the glittering of the enormous elk-antlers that spread their -branches over the lintels. - -“And you drove all round the coast to see me, I hope,” said the girl, as -they stood together under the battle-axes of the brave days of old, when -the qualifications for becoming a successful knight and a successful -blacksmith were identical. - -“We drove round to admire the beauty of the lovely Daireen,” said The -Macnamara, with a flourish of the hand that did him infinite credit. - -“If that is all,” laughed the girl, “your visit will not be a long one.” - She was standing listlessly caressing with her hand the coarse hide of -King Corrnac, a gigantic Wolf-dog, and in that posture looked like a -statue of the Genius of her country. The dog had been welcoming Standish -a moment before, and the young man's hand still resting upon its head, -felt the casual touch of the girl's fingers as she played with the -animal's ears. Every touch sent a thrill of passionate delight through -him. - -“The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds is worth coming so far to -see; and now that I look at her before me----” - -“Now you know that it is impossible to make out a single feature in this -darkness,” said Daireen. “So come along into the drawing-room.” - -“Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy,” said The Macnamara, as the girl -led the way across the hall. “For myself, I think I'll just turn in -here.” He opened a door at one side of the hall and exposed to view, -within the room beyond, a piece of ancient furniture which was not yet -too decrepit to sustain the burden of a row of square glass bottles -and tumblers. But before he entered he whispered to Standish with an -appropriate action, “Make it all right with her by the time come I -back.” And so he vanished. - -“The Macnamara is right,” said Daireen. “You must join him in taking a -glass of wine after your long drive, Standish.” - -For the first time since he had spoken on the car Standish found his -voice. - -“I do not want to drink anything, Daireen,” he said. - -“Then we shall go round to the garden and try to find grandpapa, if you -don't want to rest.” - -With her brown unbonneted hair tossing in its irregular strands about -her neck, she went out by a door at the farther end of the square hall, -and Standish followed her by a high-arched passage that seemed to lead -right through the building. At the extremity was an iron gate which the -girl unlocked, and they passed into a large garden somewhat wild in its -growth, but with its few brilliant spots of colour well brought out -by the general _feeling_ of purple that forced itself upon every one -beneath the shadow of the great mountain-peak. Very lovely did that -world of heather seem now as the sun burned over against the slope, -stirring up the wonderful secret hues of dark blue and crimson. The peak -stood out in bold relief against the pale sky, and above its highest -point an eagle sailed. - -“I have such good news for you, Standish,” said Miss Gerald. “You cannot -guess what it is.” - -“I cannot guess what good news there could possibly be in store for -me,” he replied, with so much sadness in his voice that the girl gave a -little start, and then the least possible smile, for she was well aware -that the luxury of sadness was frequently indulged in by her companion. - -“It is good news for you, for me, for all of us, for all the world, -for--well, for everybody that I have not included. Don't laugh at me, -please, for my news is that papa is coming home at last. Now, isn't that -good news?” - -“I am very glad to hear it,” said Standish. “I am very glad because I -know it will make you happy.” - -“How nicely said; and I know you feel it, my dear Standish. Ah, poor -papa! he has had a hard time of it, battling with the terrible Indian -climate and with those annoying people.” - -“It is a life worth living,” cried Standish. “After you are dead the -world feels that you have lived in it. The world is the better for your -life.” - -“You are right,” said Daireen. “Papa leaves India crowned with honours, -as the newspapers say. The Queen has made him a C.B., you know. -But--only think how provoking it is--he has been ordered by the surgeon -of his regiment to return by long-sea, instead of overland, for the sake -of his health; so that though I got his letter from Madras yesterday to -tell me that he was at the point of starting, it will be another month -before I can see him.” - -“But then he will no doubt have completely recovered,” said Standish. - -“That is my only consolation. Yes; he will be himself again--himself as -I saw him five years ago in our bungalow--how well I remember it and its -single plantain-tree in the garden where the officers used to hunt me -for kisses.” - -Standish frowned. It was, to him, a hideous recollection for the girl to -have. He would cheerfully have undertaken the strangulation of each -of those sportive officers. “I should have learned a great deal during -these five years that have passed since I was sent to England to school, -but I'm afraid I didn't. Never mind, papa won't cross-examine me to see -if his money has been wasted. But why do you look so sad, Standish? You -do look sad, you know.” - -“I feel it too,” he cried. “I feel more wretched than I can tell you. -I'm sick of everything here--no, not here, you know, but at home. There -I am in that cursed jail, shut out from the world, a beggar without the -liberty to beg.” - -“Oh, Standish!” - -“But it is the truth, Daireen. I might as well be dead as living as I -am. Yes, better--I wish to God I was dead, for then there might be at -least some chance of making a beginning in a new sort of life under -different conditions.” - -“Isn't it wicked to talk that way, Standish?” - -“I don't know,” he replied doggedly. “Wickedness and goodness have -ceased to be anything more to me than vague conditions of life in a -world I have nothing to say to. I cannot be either good or bad here.” - -Daireen looked very solemn at this confession of impotence. - -“You told me you meant to speak to The Mac-namara about going away or -doing something,” she said. - -“And I did speak to him, but it came to the one end: it was a disgrace -for the son of the------ bah, you know how he talks. Every person of any -position laughs at him; only those worse than himself think that he -is wronged. But I'll do something, if it should only be to enlist as a -common soldier.” - -“Standish, do not talk that way, like a good boy,” she said, laying her -hand upon his arm. “I have a bright thought for the first time: wait -just for another month until papa is here, and he will, you may be sure, -tell you what is exactly right to do. Oh, there is grandpapa, with his -gun as usual, coming from the hill.” - -They saw at a little distance the figure of a tall old man carrying a -gun, and followed by a couple of sporting dogs. - -“Daireen,” said Standish, stopping suddenly as if a thought had just -struck him. “Daireen, promise me that you will not let anything my -father may say here to-day make you think badly of me.” - -“Good gracious! why should I ever do that? What is he going to say that -is so dreadful?” - -“I cannot tell you, Daireen; but you will promise me;” he had seized -her by the hand and was looking with earnest entreaty into her eyes. -“Daireen,” he continued, “you will give me your word. You have been such -a friend to me always--such a good angel to me.” - -“And we shall always be friends, Standish. I promise you this. Now let -go my hand, like a good boy.” - -He obeyed her, and in a few minutes they had met Daireen's grandfather, -Mr. Gerald, who had been coming towards them. - -“What, The Macnamara here? then I must hasten to him,” said the old -gentleman, handing his gun to Standish. - -No one knew better than Mr. Gerald the necessity that existed for -hastening to The Macnamara, in case of his waiting for a length of time -in that room the sideboard of which was laden with bottles. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? - - You told us of some suit: what is't, Laertes? - - He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow' leave - - By laboursome petition; and at last, - - Upon his will I sealed my hard consent. - - Horatio. There's no offence, my lord. - - Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, - - And much offence too. - - --Hamlet. - - -|THE Macnamara had been led away from his companionship in that old oak -room by the time his son and Miss Gerald returned from the garden, -and the consciousness of his own dignity seemed to have increased -considerably since they had left him. This emotion was a variable -possession with him: any one acquainted with his habits could without -difficulty, from knowing the degree of dignity he manifested at any -moment, calculate minutely the space of time, he must of necessity have -spent in a room furnished similarly to that he had just now left. - -He was talking pretty loudly in the room to which he had been led by -Mr. Gerald when Daireen and Standish entered; and beside him was a -whitehaired old lady whom Standish greeted as Mrs. Gerald and the girl -called grandmamma--an old lady with very white hair but with large dark -eyes whose lustre remained yet undimmed. - -“Standish will reveal the mystery,” said this old lady, as the young -man shook hands with her. “Your father has been speaking in proverbs, -Standish, and we want your assistance to read them.” - -“He is my son,” said The Macnamara, waving his hand proudly and lifting -up his head. “He will hear his father speak on his behalf. Head of the -Geralds, Gerald-na-Tor, chief of the hills, the last of The Macnamaras, -king's of Munster, Innishdermot, and all islands, comes to you.” - -“And I am honoured by his visit, and glad to find him looking so well.” - said Mr. Gerald. “I am only sorry you can't make it suit you to come -oftener, Macnamara.” - -“It's that boy Eugene that's at fault,” said The Macnamara, dropping so -suddenly into a colloquial speech from his eloquent Ossianic strain -that one might have been led to believe his opening words were somewhat -forced. “Yes, my lad,” he continued, addressing Mr. Gerald; “that Eugene -is either breaking the springs or the straps or his own bones.” Here -he recollected that his mission was not one to be expressed in this -ordinary vein. He straightened himself in an instant, and as he went on -asserted even more dignity than before. “Gerald, you know my position, -don't you? and you know your 'own; but you can't say, can you, that The -Macnamara ever held himself aloof from your table by any show of pride? -I mixed with you as if we were equals.” - -Again he waved his hand patronisingly, but no one showed the least sign -of laughter. Standish was in front of one of the windows leaning his -head upon his hand as he looked out to the misty ocean. “Yes, I've -treated you at all times as if you had been born of the land, though -this ground we tread on this moment was torn from the grasp of The -Macnamaras by fraud.” - -“True, true--six hundred years ago,” remarked Mr. Gerald. He had been -so frequently reminded of this fact during his acquaintance with The -Macnamara, he could afford to make the concession he now did. - -“But I've not let that rankle in my heart,” continued The Macnamara; -“I've descended to break bread with you and to drink--drink water with -you--ay, at times. You know my son too, and you know that if he's not -the same as his father to the backbone, it's not his father that's -to blame for it. It was the last wish of his poor mother--rest her -soul!--that he should be schooled outside our country, and you know that -I carried out her will, though it cost me dear. He's been back these -four years, as you know--what's he looking out at at the window?--but -it's only three since he found out the pearl of the Lough Suangorm--the -diamond of Slieve Docas--the beautiful daughter of the Geralds. Ay, he -confessed to me this morning where his soft heart had turned, poor -boy. Don't be blushing, Standish; the blood of the Macnamaras shouldn't -betray itself in their cheeks.” - -Standish had started away from the window before his father had ended; -his hands were clenched, and his cheeks were burning with shame. He -could not fail to see the frown that was settling down upon the face of -Mr. Gerald. But he dared not even glance towards Daireen. - -“My dear Macnamara, we needn't talk on this subject any farther just -now,” said the girl's grandfather, as the orator paused for an instant. - -But The Macnamara only gave his hand another wave before he proceeded. -“I have promised my boy to make him happy,” he said, “and you know what -the word of a Macnamara is worth even to his son; so, though I confess -I was taken aback at first, yet I at last consented to throw over my -natural family pride and to let my boy have his way. An alliance between -the Macnamaras and the Geralds is not what would have been thought about -a few years ago, but The Macnamaras have always been condescending.” - -“Yes, yes, you condescend to a jest now and again with us, but really -this is a sort of mystery I have no clue to,” said Mr. Gerald. - -“Mystery? Ay, it will astonish the world to know that The Macnamara -has given his consent to such an alliance; it must be kept secret for -a while for fear of its effects upon the foreign States that have their -eyes upon all our steps. I wouldn't like this made a State affair at -all.” - -“My dear Macnamara, you are usually very lucid,” said Mr. Gerald, “but -to-day I somehow cannot arrive at your meaning.” - -“What, sir?” cried The Macnamara, giving his head an angry twitch. -“What, sir, do you mean to tell me that you don't understand that I -have given my consent to my son taking as his wife the daughter of the -Geralds?--see how the lovely Daireen blushes like a rose.” - -Daireen was certainly blushing, as she left her seat and went over to -the farthest end of the room. But Standish was deadly pale, his lips -tightly closed. - -“Macnamara, this is absurd--quite absurd!” said Mr. Gerald, hastily -rising. “Pray let us talk no more in such a strain.” - -Then The Macnamara's consciousness of his own dignity asserted itself. -He drew himself up and threw back his head. “Sir, do you mean to put -an affront upon the one who has left his proper station to raise your -family to his own level?” - -“Don't let us quarrel, Macnamara; you know how highly I esteem you -personally, and you know that I have ever looked upon the family of the -Macnamaras as the noblest in the land.” - -“And it is the noblest in the land. There's not a drop of blood in our -veins that hasn't sprung from the heart of a king,” cried The Macnamara. - -“Yes, yes, I know it; but--well, we will not talk any further to-day. -Daireen, you needn't go away.” - -“Heavens! do you mean to say that I haven't spoken plainly enough, -that----” - -“Now, Macnamara, I must really interrupt you----” - -“Must you?” cried the representative of the ancient line, his face -developing all the secret resources of redness it possessed. “Must you -interrupt the hereditary monarch of the country where you're but an -immigrant when he descends to equalise himself with you? This is the -reward of condescension! Enough, sir, you have affronted the family that -were living in castles when your forefathers were like beasts in caves. -The offer of an alliance ought to have come from you, not from me; but -never again will it be said that The Macnamara forgot what was due to -him and his family. No, by the powers, Gerald, you'll never have the -chance again. I scorn you; I reject your alliance. The Macnamara seats -himself once more upon his ancient throne, and he tramples upon you all. -Come, my son, look at him that has insulted your family--look at him for -the last time and lift up your head.” - -The grandeur with which The Macnamara uttered this speech was -overpowering. He had at its conclusion turned towards poor Standish, and -waved his hand in the direction of Mr. Gerald. Then Standish seemed to -have recovered himself. - -“No, father, it is you who have insulted this family by talking as you -have done,” he cried passionately. - -“Boy!” shouted The Macnamara. “Recreant son of a noble race, don't -demean yourself with such language!” - -“It is you who have demeaned our family,” cried the son still more -energetically. “You have sunk us even lower than we were before.” Then -he turned imploringly towards Mr. Gerald. “You know--you know that I am -only to be pitied, not blamed, for my father's words,” he said quietly, -and then went to the door. - -“My dear boy,” said the old lady, hastening towards him. - -“Madam!” cried The Macnamara, raising his arm majestically to stay her. - -She stopped in the centre of the room. Daireen had also risen, her pure -eyes full of tears as she grasped her grandfather's hand while he laid -his other upon her head. - -From the door Standish looked with passionate gratitude back to the -girl, then rushed out. - -But The Macnamara stood for some moments with his head elevated, the -better to express the scorn that was in his heart. No one made a motion, -and then he stalked after his son. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - - What advancement may I hope from thee - - That no revenue hast... - - To feed and clothe thee? - - Guildenstern. The King, sir,-- - - Hamlet. Ay, sir, what of him? - - Guild. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. - - Hamlet. With drink, sir? - - Guild. No, my lord, rather with choler. - - Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his - - rouse. - - Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels. - - Horatio. Is it a custom? - - Hamlet. Ay, marry is't: - - But to my mind, though I am native here, - - And to the manner born, it is a custom - - More honour'd in the breach than the observance. - - This heavy-headed revel... - - Makes us traduced and taxed.--Hamlet. - - -|TO do The Macnamara justice, while he was driving homeward upon that -very shaky car round the lovely coast, he was somewhat disturbed in mind -as he reflected upon the possible consequences of his quarrel with -old Mr. Gerald. He was dimly conscious of the truth of the worldly and -undeniably selfish maxim referring to the awkwardness of a quarrel with -a neighbour. And if there is any truth in it as a general maxim, its -value is certainly intensified when the neighbour in question has been -the lender of sundry sums of money. A neighbour under these conditions -should not be quarrelled with, he knew. - -The Macnamara had borrowed from Mr. Gerald, at various times, certain -moneys which had amounted in the aggregate to a considerable sum; for -though Daireen's grandfather was not possessed of a very large income -from the land that had been granted to his ancestors some few hundred -years before, he had still enough to enable him from time to time -to oblige The Macnamara with a loan. And this reflection caused The -Macnamara about as much mental uneasiness as the irregular motion of the -vehicle did physical discomfort. By the time, however, that the great -hill, whose heather slope was now wrapped in the purple shade of -twilight, its highest peak alone being bathed in the red glory of the -sunset, was passed, his mind was almost at ease; for he recalled the -fact that his misunderstandings with Mr. Gerald were exactly equal in -number to his visits; he never passed an hour at Suanmara without what -would at any rate have been a quarrel but for Mr. Gerald's good nature, -which refused to be ruffled. And as no reference had ever upon these -occasions been made to his borrowings, The Macnamara felt that he had -no reason to conclude that his present quarrel would become embarrassing -through any action of Mr. Gerald's. So he tried to feel the luxury of -the scorn that he had so powerfully expressed in the room at Suanmara. - -“Mushrooms of a night's growth!” he muttered. “I trampled them beneath -my feet. They may go down on their knees before me now, I'll have -nothing to say to them.” Then as the car passed out of the glen and he -saw before him the long shadows of the hills lying amongst the crimson -and yellow flames that swept from the sunset out on the Atlantic, and -streamed between the headlands at the entrance to the lough, he became -more fixed in his resolution. “The son of The Macnamara will never -wed with the daughter of a man that is paid by the oppressors of the -country, no, never!” - -This was an allusion to the fact of Daireen's father being a colonel -in the British army, on service in India. Then exactly between the -headlands the sun went down in a gorgeous mist that was permeated with -the glow of the orb it enveloped. The waters shook and trembled in the -light, but the many islands of the lough remained dark and silent in -the midst of the glow. The Macnamara became more resolute still. He had -almost forgotten that he had ever borrowed a penny from Mr. Gerald. He -turned to where Standish sat silent and almost grim. - -“And you, boy,” said the father--“you, that threw your insults in my -face--you, that's a disgrace to the family--I've made up my mind what -I'll do with you; I'll--yes, by the powers, I'll disinherit you.” - -But not a word did Standish utter in reply to this threat, the force of -which, coupled with an expressive motion of the speaker, jeopardised the -imperfect spring, and wrung from Eugene a sudden exclamation. - -“Holy mother o' Saint Malachi, kape the sthring from breakin' yit -awhile!” he cried devoutly. - -And it seemed that the driver's devotion was efficacious, for, without -any accident, the car reached the entrance to Innishdermot, as the -residence of the ancient monarchs had been called since the days when -the waters of Lough Suangorm had flowed all about the castle slope, for -even the lough had become reduced in strength. - -The twilight, rich and blue, was now swathing the mountains and -overshadowing the distant cliffs, though the waters at their base were -steel gray and full of light that seemed to shine upwards through their -depth. Desolate, truly, the ruins loomed through the dimness. Only -a single feeble light glimmered from one of the panes, and even this -seemed agonising to the owls, for they moaned wildly and continuously -from the round tower. There was, indeed, scarcely an aspect of welcome -in anything that surrounded this home which one family had occupied for -seven hundred years. - -As the car stopped at the door, however, there came a voice from -an unseen figure, saying, in even a more pronounced accent than The -Macnamara himself gloried in, “Wilcome, ye noble sonns of noble soyers! -Wilcome back to the anshent home of the gloryous race that'll stand -whoile there's a sod of the land to bear it.” - -“It's The Randal himself,” said The Macnamara, looking in the direction -from which the sound came. “And where is it that you are, Randal? Oh, I -see your pipe shining like a star out of the ivy.” - -From the forest of ivy that clung about the porch of the castle the -figure of a small man emerged. One of his hands was in his pocket, the -other removed a short black pipe, the length of whose stem in comparison -to the breadth of its bowl was as the proportion of Falstaff's bread to -his sack. - -“Wilcome back, Macnamara,” said this gentleman, who was indeed The -Randal, hereditary chief of Suangorm. “An' Standish too, how are ye, my -boy?” Standish shook hands with the speaker, but did not utter a word. -“An' where is it ye're afther dhrivin' from?” continued The Randal. - -“It's a long drive and a long story,” said The Macnamara. - -“Thin for hivin's sake don't begin it till we've put boy the dinner. I'm -goin' to take share with ye this day, and I'm afther waitin' an hour and -more.” - -“It's welcome The Randal is every day in the week,” said The Macnamara, -leading the way into the great dilapidated hall, where in the ancient -days fifty men-at-arms had been wont to feast royally. Now it was black -in night. - -In the room where the dinner was laid there were but two candles, and -their feeble glimmer availed no more than to make the blotches on the -cloth more apparent: the maps of the British Isles done in mustard and -gravy were numerous. At each end a huge black bottle stood like a sentry -at the border of a snowfield. - -By far the greater portion of the light was supplied by the blazing log -in the fireplace. It lay not in any grate but upon the bare hearth, and -crackled and roared up the chimney like a demon prostrate in torture. -The Randal and his host stood before the blaze, while Standish seated -himself in another part of the room. The ruddy flicker of the wood -fire shone upon the faces of the two men, and the yellow glimmer of -the candle upon the face of Standish. Here and there a polish upon the -surface of the black oak panelling gleamed, but all the rest of the high -room was dim. - -Salmon from the lough, venison from the forest, wild birds from the moor -made up the dinner. All were served on silver dishes strangely worked, -and plates of the same metal were laid before the diners, while horns -mounted on massive stands were the drinking vessels. From these dishes -The Macnamaras of the past had eaten, and from these horns they had -drunken, and though the present head of the family could have gained -many years' income had he given the metal to be melted, he had never -for an instant thought of taking such a step. He would have starved with -that plate empty in front of him sooner than have sold it to buy bread. - -Standish spoke no word during the entire meal, and the guest saw that -something had gone wrong; so with his native tact he chatted away, -asking questions, but waiting for no answer. - -When the table was cleared and the old serving-woman had brought in a -broken black kettle of boiling water, and had laid in the centre of the -table an immense silver bowl for the brewing of the punch, The Randal -drew up the remnant of his collar and said: “Now for the sthory of the -droive, Macnamara; I'm riddy whin ye fill the bowl.” - -Standish rose from the table and walked away to a seat at the furthest -end of the great room, where he sat hidden in the gloom of the corner. -The Randal did not think it inconsistent with his chieftainship to wink -at his host. - -“Randal,” said The Macnamara, “I've made up my mind. I'll disinherit -that boy, I will.” - -“No,” cried The Randal eagerly. “Don't spake so loud, man; if this -should git wind through the counthry who knows what might happen? -Disinhirit the boy; ye don't mane it, Macnamara,” he continued in an -excited but awe-stricken whisper. - -“But by the powers, I do mean it,” cried The Macnamara, who had been -testing the potent elements of the punch. - -“Disinherit me, will you, father?” came the sudden voice of Standish -echoing strangely down the dark room. Then he rose and stood facing -both men at the table, the red glare of the log mixing with the sickly -candlelight upon his face and quivering hands. “Disinherit me?” he said -again, bitterly. “You cannot do that. I wish you could. My inheritance, -what is it? Degradation of family, proud beggary, a life to be wasted -outside the world of life and work, and a death rejoiced over by those -wretches who have lent you money. Disinherit me from all this, if you -can.” - -“Holy Saint Malachi, hare the sonn of The Macnamaras talkin' loike a -choild!” cried The Randal. - -“I don't care who hears me,” said Standish. “I'm sick of hearing about -my forefathers; no one cares about them nowadays. I wanted years ago to -go out into the world and work.” - -“Work--a Macnamara work!” cried The Randal horror-stricken. - -“I told you so,” said The Macnamara, in the tone of one who finds sudden -confirmation to the improbable story of some enormity. - -“I wanted to work as a man should to redeem the shame which our life -as it is at present brings upon our family,” said the young man -earnestly--almost passionately; “but I was not allowed to do anything -that I wanted. I was kept here in this jail wasting my best years; but -to-day has brought everything to an end. You say you will disinherit me, -father, but I have from this day disinherited myself--I have cast off my -old existence. I begin life from to-day.” - -Then he turned away and went out of the room, leaving his father and his -guest in dumb amazement before their punch. It was some minutes before -either could speak. At last The Randal took adraught of the hot spirit, -and shook his head thoughtfully. - -“Poor boy! poor boy! he needs to be looked after till he gets over this -turn,” he said. - -“It's all that girl--that Daireen of the Geralds,” said The Macnamara. -“I found a paper with poetry on it for her this morning, and when I -forced him he confessed that he was in love with her.” - -“D'ye tell me that? And what more did ye do, Mac?” - -“I'll tell you,” said the hereditary prince, leaning over the table. - -And he gave his guest all the details of the visit to the Geralds at -length. - -But poor Standish had rushed up the crumbling staircase and was lying -on his bed with his face in his hands. It was only now he seemed to feel -all the shame that had caused his face to be red and pale by turns in -the drawing-room at Suanmara. He lay there in a passion of tears, while -the great owls kept moaning and hooting in the tower just outside his -window, making sympathetic melody to his ears. - -At last he arose and went over to the window and stood gazing out -through the break in the ivy armour of the wall. He gazed over the tops -of the trees growing in a straggling way down the slope to the water's -edge. He could see far away the ocean, whose voice he now and again -heard as the wind bore it around the tower. Thousands of stars glittered -above the water and trembled upon its moving surface. He felt strong -now. He felt that he might never weep again in the world as he had just -wept. Then he turned to another window and sent his eyes out to where -that great peak of Slieve Docas stood out dark and terrible among -the stars. He could not see the house at the base of the hill, but he -clenched his hands as he looked out, saying “Hope.” - -It was late before he got into his bed, and it was still later when he -awoke and heard, mingling with the cries of the night-birds, the sound -of hoarse singing that floated upward from the room where he had left -his father and The Randal. The prince and the chief were joining their -voices in a native melody, Standish knew; and he was well aware that -he would not be disturbed by the ascent of either during the night. The -dormitory arrangements of the prince and the chief when they had dined -in company were of the simplest nature. - -Standish went to sleep again, and the ancient rafters, that had heard -the tones of many generations of Macnamaras' voices, trembled for some -hours with the echoes from the room below, while outside the ancient -owls hooted and the ancient sea murmured in its sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - - What imports this song? - - The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail - - And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee. - - Hamlet. I do not set my life at a pin's fee... - - It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. - - Horatio. What if it tempt you toward the flood?... - - Look whether he has not changed his colour. - - --Hamlet. - - -|THE sounds of wild harp-music were ascending at even from the depths of -Glenmara. The sun had sunk, and the hues that had been woven round the -west were wasting themselves away on the horizon. The faint shell-pink -had drifted and dwindled far from the place of sunset. The woods of -the slopes looked very dark now that the red glances from the west were -withdrawn from their glossy foliage; but the heather-swathed mountains, -towering through the soft blue air to the dark blue sky, were richly -purple, as though the sunset hues had become entangled amongst the -heather, and had forgotten to fly back to the west that had cast them -forth. - -The little tarn at the foot of the lowest crags was black and still, -waiting for the first star-glimpse, and from its marge came the wild -notes of a harp fitfully swelling and waning; and then arose the still -wilder and more melancholy tones of a man's voice chanting what seemed -like a weird dirge to the fading twilight, and the language was the -Irish Celtic--that language every song of which sounds like a dirge sung -over its own death:-- - - Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - - woods? - - Why art thou gone who made all the leaves tremulous with - - the low voice of love? - - Love that tarried yet afar, though the fleet swallow had - - come back to us-- - - Love that stayed in the far lands though the primrose had - - cast its gold by the streams-- - - Love that heard not the voice sent forth from every new- budded -briar-- - - This love came only when thou earnest, and rapture thrilled - - the heart of the green land. - - Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - - woods? - -This is a translation of the wild lament that arose in the twilight air -and stirred up the echoes of the rocks. Then the fitful melody of the -harp made an interlude:-- - - Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - - woods? - - Why art thou gone from us whose song brought the Spring - - to our land? - - Yea, flowers to thy singing arose from the earth in bountiful - - bloom, - - And scents of the violet, scents of the hawthorn--all scents - - of the spring - - Were wafted about us when thy voice was heard albeit in - - autumn. - - All thoughts of the spring--all its hopes woke and breathed - - through our hearts, - - Till our souls thrilled with passionate song and the perfume - - of spring which is love. - - Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - - woods? - -Again the chaunter paused and again his harp prolonged the wailing -melody. Then passing into a more sadly soft strain, he continued his -song:-- - - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - - Now thou art gone the berry drops from the arbutus, - - The wind comes in from the ocean with wail and the - - autumn is sad, - - The yellow leaves perish, whirled wild whither no one can - - know. - - As the crisp leaves are crushed in the woods, so our hearts - - are crushed at thy parting; - - As the woods moan for the summer departed, so we mourn - - that we see thee no more. - - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -Into the twilight the last notes died away, and a lonely heron standing -among the rushes at the edge of the tarn moved his head critically to -one side as if waiting for another song with which to sympathise. But -he was not the only listener. Far up among the purple crags Standish -Macnamara was lying looking out to the sunset when he heard the sound of -the chant in the glen beneath him. He lay silent while the dirge floated -up the mountain-side and died away among the heather of the peak. But -when the silence of the twilight came once more upon the glen, Standish -arose and made his way downwards to where an old man with one of the -small ancient Irish harps, was seated on a stone, his head bent across -the strings upon which his fingers still rested. Standish knew him to be -one Murrough O'Brian, a descendant of the bards of the country, and -an old retainer of the Gerald family. A man learned in Irish, but not -speaking an intelligible sentence in English. - -“Why do you sing the Dirge of Tuathal on this evening, Murrough?” he -asked in his native tongue, as he came beside the old man. - -“What else is there left for me to sing at this time, Standish O'Dermot -Macnamara, son of the Prince of Islands and all Munster?” said the bard. -“There is nothing of joy left us now. We cannot sing except in sorrow. -Does not the land seem to have sympathy with such songs, prolonging -their sound by its own voice from every glen and mountain-face?” - -“It is true,” said Standish. “As I sat up among the cliffs of heather -it seemed to me that the melody was made by the spirits of the glen -bewailing in the twilight the departure of the glory of our land.” - -“See how desolate is all around us here,” said the bard. “Glenmara is -lonely now, where it was wont to be gay with song and laughter; when the -nobles thronged the valley with hawk and hound, the voice of the bugle -and the melody of a hundred harps were heard stirring up the echoes in -delight.” - -“But now all are gone; they can only be recalled in vain dreams,” said -the second in this duet of Celtic mourners--the younger Marius among the -ruins. - -“The sons of Erin have left her in her loneliness while the world is -stirred with their brave actions,” continued the ancient bard. - -“True,” cried Standish; “outside is the world that needs Irish hands -and hearts to make it better worth living in.” The young man was so -enthusiastic in the utterance of his part in the dialogue as to cause -the bard to look suddenly up. - -“Yes, the hands and the hearts of the Irish have done much,” he said. -“Let the men go out into the world for a while, but let our daughters be -spared to us.” - -Standish gave a little start and looked inquiringly into the face of the -bard. - -“What do you mean, Murrough?” he asked slowly. - -The bard leant forward as if straining to catch some distant sound. - -“Listen to it, listen to it,” he said. There was a pause, and through -the silence the moan of the far-off ocean was borne along the dim glen. - -“It is the sound of the Atlantic,” said Standish. “The breeze from the -west carries it to us up from the lough.” - -“Listen to it and think that she is out on that far ocean,” said the old -man. “Listen to it, and think that Daireen, daughter of the Geralds, has -left her Irish home and is now tossing upon that ocean; gone is she, the -bright bird of the South--gone from those her smile lightened!” - -Standish neither started nor uttered a word when the old man had spoken; -but he felt his feet give way under him. He sat down upon a crag and -laid his head upon his hand staring into the black tarn. He could not -comprehend at first the force of the words “She is gone.” He had thought -of his own departure, but the possibility of Daireen's had not occurred -to him. The meaning of the bard's lament was now apparent to him, and -even now the melody seemed to be given back by the rocks that had heard -it: - -Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -The words moaned through the dim air with the sound of the distant -waters for accompaniment. - -“Gone--gone--Daireen,” he whispered. “And you only tell me of it now,” - he added almost fiercely to the old man, for he reflected upon the time -he had wasted in that duet of lamentation over the ruins of his country. -What a wretchedly trivial thing he felt was the condition of the country -compared with such an event as the departure of Daireen Gerald. - -“It is only since morning that she is gone,” said the bard. “It was only -in the morning that the letter arrived to tell her that her father was -lying in a fever at some place where the vessel called on the way home. -And now she is gone from us, perhaps for ever.” - -“Murrough,” said the young man, laying his hand upon the other's arm, -and speaking in a hoarse whisper. “Tell me all about her. Why did they -allow her to go? Where is she gone? Not out to where her father was -landed?” - -“Why not there?” cried the old man, raising his head proudly. “Did a -Gerald ever shrink from duty when the hour came? Brave girl she is, -worthy to be a Gerald!” - -“Tell me all--all.” - -“What more is there to tell than what is bound up in those three words -'She is gone'?” said the man. “The letter came to her grandfather and -she saw him read it--I was in the hall--she saw his hand tremble. She -stood up there beside him and asked him what was in the letter; he -looked into her face and put the letter in her hand. I saw her face grow -pale as she read it. Then she sat down for a minute, but no word or -cry came from her until she looked up to the old man's face; then she -clasped her hands and said only, 'I will go to him.' The old people -talked to her of the distance, of the danger; they told her how she -would be alone for days and nights among strangers; but she only -repeated, 'I will go to him.' And now she is gone--gone alone over those -waters.” - -“Alone!” Standish repeated. “Gone away alone, no friend near her, none -to utter a word of comfort in her ears!” He buried his face in his hands -as he pictured the girl whom he had loved silently, but with all his -soul, since she had come to her home in Ireland from India where she -had lived with her father since the death of his wife ten years ago. He -pictured her sitting in her loneliness aboard the ship that was bearing -her away to, perhaps, the land of her father's grave, and he felt that -now at last all the bitterness that could be crowded upon his life had -fallen on him. He gazed into the black tarn, and saw within its depths a -star glittering as it glittered in the sky above, but it did not relieve -his thoughts with any touch of its gold. - -He rose after a while and gave his hand to Murrough. - -“Thank you,” he said. “You have told me all better than any one else -could have done. But did she not speak of me, Murrough--only once -perhaps? Did she not send me one little word of farewell?” - -“She gave me this for you,” said the old bard, producing a letter which -Standish clutched almost wildly. - -“Thank God, thank God!” he cried, hurrying away without another word. -But after him swept the sound of the bard's lament which he commenced -anew, with that query: - -Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -It was not yet too dark outside the glen for Standish to read the letter -which he had just received; and so soon as he found himself in sight of -the sea he tore open the cover and read the few lines Daireen Gerald had -written, with a tremulous hand, to say farewell to him. - -“My father has been left ill with fever at the Cape, and I know that he -will recover only if I go to him. I am going away to-day, for the -steamer will leave Southampton in four days, and I cannot be there in -time unless I start at once. I thought you would not like me to go -without saying good-bye, and God bless you, dear Standish.” - -“You will say good-bye to The Macnamara for me. I thought poor papa -would be here to give you the advice you want. Pray to God that I may be -in time to see him.” - -He read the lines by the gray light reflected from the sea--he read them -until his eyes were dim. - -“Brave, glorious girl!” he cried. “But to think of her--alone--alone -out there, while I---- oh, what a poor weak fool I am! Here am I--here, -looking out to the sea she is gone to battle with! Oh, God! oh, God! I -must do something for her--I must--but what--what?” - -He cast himself down upon the heather that crawled from the slopes -even to the road, and there he lay with his head buried in agony at the -thought of his own impotence; while through the dark glen floated the -wild, weird strain of the lament: - -“Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - - Hamlet. How chances it they travel? their residence, - - both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. - - Rosencrantz. I think their inhibition comes by the means - - of the late innovation. - - Many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills. - - What imports the nomination of this gentleman? - - Hamlet. - - -|AWAY from the glens and the heather-clad mountains, from the blue -loughs and their islands of arbutus, from the harp-music, and from the -ocean-music which makes those who hear it ripe for revolt; away from the -land whose life is the memory of ancient deeds of nobleness; away from -the land that has given birth to more heroes than any nation in the -world, the land whose inhabitants live in thousands in squalor and look -out from mud windows upon the most glorious scenery in the world; away -from all these one must now be borne. - -Upon the evening of the fourth day after the chanting of that lament -by the bard O'Brian from the depths of Glenmara, the good steamship -_Cardwell Castle_ was making its way down Channel with a full cargo and -heavy mails for Madeira, St. Helena, and the Cape. It had left its port -but a few hours and already the coast had become dim with distance. The -red shoreway of the south-west was now so far away that the level rays -of sunlight which swept across the water were not seen to shine upon the -faces of the rocks, or to show where the green fields joined the brown -moorland; the windmills crowning every height were not seen to be in -motion. - -The passengers were for the most part very cheerful, as passengers -generally are during the first couple of hours of a voyage, when only -the gentle ripples of the Channel lap the sides of the vessel. The old -voyagers, who had thought it prudent to dine off a piece of sea-biscuit -and a glass of brandy and water, while they watched with grim smiles the -novices trifling with roast pork and apricot-dumplings, were now sitting -in seats they had arranged for themselves in such places as they knew -would be well to leeward for the greater part of the voyage, and here -they smoked their cigars and read their newspapers just as they would be -doing every day for three weeks. To them the phenomenon of the lessening -land was not particularly interesting. The novices were endeavouring to -look as if they had been used to knock about the sea all their lives; -they carried their telescopes under their arms quite jauntily, and gave -critical glances aloft every now and again, consulting their pocket -compasses gravely at regular intervals to convince themselves that they -were not being trifled with in the navigation of the vessel. - -Then there were, of course, those who had come aboard with the -determination of learning in three weeks as much seamanship as should -enable them to accept any post of marine responsibility that they might -be called upon to fill in after life. They handled the loose tackle with -a view of determining its exact utility, and endeavoured to trace stray -lines to their source. They placed the captain entirely at his ease -with them by asking him a number of questions regarding the dangers of -boiler-bursting, and the perils of storms; they begged that he would let -them know if there was any truth in the report which had reached them to -the effect that the Atlantic was a very stormy place; and they left him -with the entreaty that in case of any danger arising suddenly he would -at once communicate with them; they then went down to put a few casual -questions to the quartermaster who was at the wheel, and doubtless felt -that they were making most of the people about them cheerful with their -converse. - -Then there were the young ladies who had just completed their education -in England and were now on their way to join their relations abroad. -Having read in the course of their studies of English literature the -poems of the late Samuel Rogers, they were much amazed to find that the -mariners were not leaning over the ship's bulwarks sighing to behold the -sinking of their native land, and that not an individual had climbed the -mast to partake of the ocular banquet with indulging in which the poet -has accredited the sailor. Towards this section the glances of several -male eyes were turned, for most of the young men had roved sufficiently -far to become aware of the fact that the relief of the monotony of a -lengthened voyage is principally dependent on--well, on the relieving -capacities of the young ladies, lately sundered from school and just -commencing their education in the world. - -But far away from the groups that hung about the stern stood a girl -looking over the side of the ship towards the west--towards the sun that -was almost touching the horizon. She heard the laughter of the groups of -girls and the silly questions of the uninformed, but all sounded to her -like the strange voices of a dream; for as she gazed towards the west -she seemed to see a fair landscape of purple slopes and green woods; -the dash of the ripples against the ship's side came to her as the -rustle of the breaking ripples amongst the shells of a blue lough upon -whose surface a number of green islets raised their heads. She saw them -all--every islet, with its moveless I shadow beneath it, and the light -touching the edges of the leaves with red. Daireen Gerald it was who -stood there looking out to the sunset, but seeing in the golden lands of -the west the Irish land she knew so well. - -She remained motionless, with her eyes far away and her heart still -farther, until the red sun had disappeared, and the delicate twilight -change was slipping over the bright gray water. With every change she -seemed to see the shifting of the hues over the heather of Slieve Docas -and the pulsating of the tremulous red light through the foliage of the -deer ground. It was only now that the tears forced themselves into her -eyes, for she had not wept at parting from her grandfather, who had gone -with her from Ireland and had left her aboard the steamer a few hours -before; and while her tears made everything misty to her, the light -laughter of the groups scattered about the quarter-deck sounded in her -ears. It did not come harshly to her, for it seemed to come from a world -in which she had no part. The things about her were as the things of a -dream. The reality in which she was living was that which she saw out in -the west. - -“Come, my dear,” said a voice behind her--“Come and walk with me on the -deck. I fancied I had lost you, and you may guess what a state I was in, -after all the promises I made to Mr. Gerald.” - -“I was just looking out there, and wondering what they were all doing -at home--at the foot of the dear old mountain,” said Daireen, allowing -herself to be led away. - -“That is what most people would call moping, dear,” said the lady who -had come up. She was a middle-aged lady with a pleasant face, though her -figure was hardly what a scrupulous painter would choose as a model for -a Nausicaa. - -“Perhaps I was moping, Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen replied; “but I feel the -better for it now.” - -“My dear, I don't disapprove of moping now and again, though as a habit -it should not be encouraged. I was down in my cabin, and when I came on -deck I couldn't understand where you had disappeared to. I asked the -major, but of course, you know, he was quite oblivious to everything but -the mutiny at Cawnpore, through being beside Doctor Campion.” - -“But you have found me, you see, Mrs. Crawford.” - -“Yes, thanks to Mr. Glaston; he knew where you had gone; he had been -watching you.” Daireen felt her face turning red as she thought of this -Mr. Glaston, whoever he was, with his eyes fixed upon her movements. -“You don't know Mr. Glaston, Daireen?--I shall call you 'Daireen' -of course, though we have only known each other a couple of hours,” - continued the lady. “No, of course you don't. Never mind, I'll show -him to you.” For the promise of this treat Daireen did not express her -gratitude. She had come to think the most unfavourable things regarding -this Mr. Glaston. Mrs. Crawford, however, did not seem to expect an -acknowledgment. Her chat ran on as briskly as ever. “I shall point him -out to you, but on no account look near him for some time--young men are -so conceited, you know.” - -Daireen had heard this peculiarity ascribed to the race before, and -so when her guide, as they walked towards the stern of the vessel, -indicated to her that a young man sitting in a deck-chair smoking a -cigar was Mr. Glaston, she certainly did not do anything that might -possibly increase in Mr. Glaston this dangerous tendency which Mrs. -Crawford had assigned to young men generally. - -“What do you think of him, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford, when they had -strolled up the deck once more. - -“Of whom?” inquired Daireen. - -“Good gracious,” cried the lady, “are your thoughts still straying? Why, -I mean Mr. Glaston, to be sure. What do you think of him?” - -“I didn't look at him,” the girl answered. - -Mrs. Crawford searched the fair face beside her to find out if its -expression agreed with her words, and the scrutiny being satisfactory -she gave a little laugh. “How do you ever mean to know what he is like -if you don't look at him?” she asked. - -Daireen did not stop to explain how she thought it possible that -contentment might exist aboard the steamer even though she remained in -ignorance for ever of Mr. Glaston's qualities; but presently she glanced -along the deck, and saw sitting at graceful ease upon the chair Mrs. -Crawford had indicated, a tall man of apparently a year or two under -thirty. He had black hair which he had allowed to grow long behind, and -a black moustache which gave every indication of having been subjected -to the most careful youthful training. His face would not have been -thought expressive but for his eyes, and the expression that these -organs gave out could hardly be called anything except a neutral one: -they indicated nothing except that nothing was meant to be indicated -by them. No suggestion of passion, feeling, or even thoughtfulness, did -they give; and in fact the only possible result of looking at this face -which some people called expressive, was a feeling that the man himself -was calmly conscious of the fact that some people were in the habit of -calling his face expressive. - -“And what _do_ you think of him now, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford, -after Daireen had gratified her by taking that look. - -“I really don't think that I think anything,” she answered with a little -laugh. - -“That is the beauty of his face,” cried Mrs. Crawford. “It sets one -thinking.” - -“But that is not what I said, Mrs. Crawford.” - -“You said you did not think you were thinking anything, Daireen; and -that meant, I know, that there was more in his face than you could read -at a first glance. Never mind; every one is set thinking when one sees -Mr. Glaston.” - -Daireen had almost become interested in this Mr. Glaston, even though -she could not forget that he had watched her when she did not want to -be watched. She gave another glance towards him, but with no more -profitable conclusion than her previous look had attained. - -“I will tell you all about him, my child,” said Mrs. Crawford -confidentially; “but first let us make ourselves comfortable. Dear old -England, there is the last of it for us for some time. Adieu, adieu, -dear old country!” There was not much sentimentality in the stout little -lady's tone, as she looked towards the faint line of mist far astern -that marked the English coast. She sat down with Daireen to the leeward -of the deck-house where she had laid her rugs, and until the tea-bell -rang Daireen had certainly no opportunity for moping. - -Mrs. Crawford told her that this Mr. Glaston was a young man of such -immense capacities that nothing lay outside his grasp either in art or -science. He had not thought it necessary to devote his attention to -any subject in particular; but that, Mrs. Crawford thought, was rather -because there existed no single subject that he considered worthy of an -expenditure of all his energies. As things unfortunately existed, there -was nothing left for him but to get rid of the unbounded resources of -his mind by applying them to a variety of subjects. He had, in fact, -written poetry--never an entire volume of course, but exceedingly clever -pieces that had been published in his college magazine. He was capable -of painting a great picture if he chose, though he had contented himself -with giving ideas to other men who had worked them out through the -medium of pictures. He was one of the most accomplished of musicians; -and if he had not yet produced an opera or composed even a song, -instances were on record of his having performed impromptus that would -undoubtedly have made the fame of a professor. He was the son of a -Colonial Bishop, Mrs. Crawford told Daireen, and though he lived in -England he was still dutiful enough to go out to pay a month's visit to -his father every year. - -“But we must not make him conceited, Daireen,” said Mrs. Crawford, -ending her discourse; “we must not, dear; and if he should look over -and see us together this way, he would conclude that we were talking of -him.” - -Daireen rose with her instructive companion with an uneasy sense of -feeling that all they could by their combined efforts contribute to the -conceit of a young man who would, upon grounds so slight, come to such a -conclusion as Mrs. Crawford feared he might, would be but trifling. - -Then the tea-bell rang, and all the novices who had enjoyed the roast -pork and dumplings at dinner, descended to make a hearty meal of -buttered toast and banana jelly. The sea air had given them an appetite, -they declared with much merriment. The chief steward, however, being an -experienced man, and knowing that in a few hours the Bay of Biscay -would be entered, did not, from observing the hearty manner in which the -novices were eating, feel uneasy on the matter of the endurance of the -ship's stores. He knew it would be their last meal for some days at -least, and he smiled grimly as he laid down another plate of buttered -toast, and hastened off to send up some more brandy and biscuits to -Major Crawford and Doctor Campion, whose hoarse chuckles called forth -by pleasing reminiscences of Cawnpore were dimly heard from the deck -through the cabin skylight. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; - - Till then in patience our proceeding be. - - We'll put on those shall praise your excellence - - And set a double varnish on the fame - - The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together. - - ... I know love is begun by time. - - I know him well: he is the brooch indeed - - And gem of all the nation. - - He made confession of you, - - And gave you such a masterly report - - For art...'twould be a sight indeed - - If one could match you. - - --Hamlet. - - -|MRS. Crawford absolutely clung to Daireen all this evening. When the -whist parties were formed in the cabin she brought the girl on deck and -instructed her in some of the matters worth knowing aboard a passenger -ship. - -“On no account bind yourself to any whist set before you look about you: -nothing could be more dangerous,” she said confidentially. “Just think -how terrible it would be if you were to join a set now, and afterwards -to find out that it was not the best set. You would simply be ruined. -Besides that, it is better to stay on deck as much as possible during -the first day or two at sea. Now let us go over to the major and -Campion.” - -So Daireen found herself borne onward with Mrs. Crawford's arm in her -own to where Major Crawford and Doctor Campion were sitting on their -battered deck-chairs lighting fresh cheroots from the ashes of the -expiring ends. - -“Don't tread on the tumblers, my dear,” said the major as his wife -advanced. “And how is Miss Gerald now that we have got under weigh? You -didn't take any of that liquid they insult the Chinese Empire by calling -tea, aboard ship, I hope?” - -“Just a single cup, and very weak,” said Mrs. Crawford apologetically. - -“My dear, I thought you were wiser.” - -“You will take this chair, Mrs. Crawford?” said Doctor Campion, without -making the least pretence of moving, however. - -“Don't think of such a thing,” cried the lady's husband; and to do -Doctor Campion justice, he did not think of such a thing. “Why, you -don't fancy these are our Junkapore days, do you, when Kate came out -to our bungalow, and the boys called her the Sylph? It's a fact, Miss -Gerald; my wife, as your father will tell you, was as slim as a lily. -Ah, dear, dear! Time, they say, takes a lot away from us, but by Jingo, -he's liberal enough in some ways. By Jingo, yes,” and the gallant old -man kept shaking his head and chuckling towards his comrade, whose -features could be seen puckered into a grin though he uttered no sound. - -“And stranger still, Miss Gerald,” said the lady, “the major was once -looked upon as a polite man, and politer to his wife than to anybody -else. Go and fetch some chairs here, Campion, like a good fellow,” she -added to the doctor, who rose slowly and obeyed. - -“That's how my wife takes command of the entire battalion, Miss Gerald,” - remarked the major. “Oh, your father will tell you all about her.” - -The constant reference to her father by one who was an old friend, came -with a cheering influence to the girl. A terrible question as to what -might be the result of her arrival at the Cape had suggested itself to -her more than once since she had left Ireland; but now the major did not -seem to fancy that there could be any question in the matter. - -When the chairs were brought, and enveloped in karosses, as the old -campaigners called the furs, there arose a chatter of bungalows, and -punkahs, and puggarees, and calapashes, and curries, that was quite -delightful to the girl's ears, especially as from time to time -her father's name would be mentioned in connection with some -elephant-trapping expedition, or, perhaps, a mess joke. - -When at last Daireen found herself alone in the cabin which her -grandfather had managed to secure for her, she did not feel that -loneliness which she thought she should have felt aboard this ship full -of strangers without sympathy for her. - -She stood for a short time in the darkness, looking out of her cabin -port over the long waters, and listening to the sound of the waves -hurrying away from the ship and flapping against its sides, and once -more she thought of the purple mountain and the green Irish Lough. -Then as she moved away from the port her thoughts stretched in another -direction--southward. Her heart was full of hope as she turned in to -her bunk and went quietly asleep just as the first waves of the Bay of -Biscay were making the good steamer a little uneasy, and bringing about -a bitter remorse to those who had made merry over the dumplings and -buttered toast. - -Major Crawford was an officer who had served for a good many years in -India, and had there become acquainted with Daireen's father and mother. -When Mr. Gerald was holding his grandchild in his arms aboard the -steamer saying good-bye, he was surprised by a strange lady coming up to -him and begging to be informed if it was possible that Daireen was the -daughter of Colonel Gerald. In another instant Mr. Gerald was overjoyed -to know that Daireen would be during the entire voyage in the company -of an officer and his wife who were old friends of her father, and had -recognised her from her likeness to her mother, whom they had also known -when she was little older than Daireen. Mr. Gerald left the vessel with -a mind at rest; and that his belief that the girl would be looked after -was well-founded is already known. Daireen was, indeed, in the hands of -a lady who was noted in many parts of the world for her capacities for -taking charge of young ladies. When she was in India her position at -the station was very similiar to that of immigration-agent-general. Fond -matrons in England, who had brought their daughters year after year to -Homburg, Kissingen, and Nice, in the “open” season, and had yet brought -them back in safety--matrons who had even sunk to the low level of -hydropathic hunting-grounds without success, were accustomed to write -pathetic letters to Junkapore and Arradambad conveying to Mrs. Crawford -intelligence of the strange fancy that some of the dear girls had -conceived to visit those parts of the Indian Empire, and begging Mrs. -Crawford to give her valuable advice with regard to the carrying out of -such remarkable freaks. Never in any of these cases had the major's wife -failed. These forlorn hopes took passage to India and found in her a -real friend, with tact, perseverance, and experience. The subalterns -of the station were never allowed to mope in a wretched, companionless -condition; and thus Mrs. Crawford had achieved for herself a -certain fame, which it was her study to maintain. Having herself had -men-children only, she had no personal interests to look after. Her boys -had been swaddled in puggarees, spoon-fed with curry, and nurtured upon -chutney, and had so developed into full-grown Indians ready for the -choicest appointments, and they had succeeded very well indeed. Her -husband had now received a command from the War Office to proceed to -the Cape for the purpose of obtaining evidence on the subject of the -regulation boots to be supplied to troops on active foreign service; -a commission upon this most important subject having been ordered by -a Parliamentary vote. Other officers of experience had been sent to -various of the colonies, and much was expected to result from the -prosecution of their inquiries, the opponents of the Government being -confident that gussets would eventually be allowed to non-commissioned -officers, and back straps to privates. - -Of course Major Crawford could not set out on a mission so important -without the companionship of his wife. Though just at the instant of -Daireen's turning in, the major fancied he might have managed to get -along pretty well even if his partner had been left behind him in -England. He was inclined to snarl in his cabin at nights when his wife -unfolded her plans to him and kept him awake to give his opinion as -to the possibility of the tastes of various young persons becoming -assimilated. To-night the major expressed his indifference as to whether -every single man in the ship's company got married to every single woman -before the end of the voyage, or whether they all went to perdition -singly. He concluded by wishing fervently that they would disappear, -married and single, by a supernatural agency. - -“But think, how gratified poor Gerald would be if the dear girl could -think as I do on this subject,” said Mrs. Crawford persistently, -alluding to the matter of certain amalgamation of tastes. At this point, -however, the major expressed himself in words still more vigorous than -he had brought to his aid before, and his wife thought it prudent to get -into her bunk without pursuing any further the question of the possible -gratification of Colonel Gerald at the unanimity of thought existing -between his daughter and Mrs. Crawford. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - - How dangerous is it that this man goes loose... - - He's loved of the distracted multitude, - - Who like not in their judgment but their eyes: - - And where 'tis so the offender's scourge is weigh'd, - - But never the offence. - - Look here upon this picture, and on this. - - Thus has he--and many more of the same breed that I know the drossy age -dotes on--only got the tune of the time... a kind of yesty collection -which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed -opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are -out.--_Hamlet_. - - -|THE uneasy bosom of the Bay of Biscay was throbbing with its customary -emotion beneath the good vessel, when Daireen awoke the next morning to -the sound of creaking timbers and rioting glasses. Above her on the deck -the tramp of a healthy passenger, who wore a pedometer and walked three -miles every morning before breakfast, was heard, now dilating and now -decreasing, as he passed over the cabins. He had almost completed his -second mile, and was putting on a spurt in order to keep himself up to -time; his spurt at the end of the first mile had effectually awakened -all the passengers beneath, who had yet remained undisturbed through the -earlier part of his tramp. - -Mrs. Crawford, looking bright and fresh and good-natured, entered -Daireen's cabin before the girl was ready to leave it. She certainly -seemed determined that the confidence Mr. Gerald had reposed in her with -regard to the care of his granddaughter should not prove to have been -misplaced. - -“I am not going in, my dear,” she said as she entered the cabin. “I only -stepped round to see that you were all right this morning. I knew you -would be so, though Robinson the steward tells me that even the little -sea there is on in the bay has been quite sufficient to make about a -dozen vacancies at the breakfast-table. People are such fools when they -come aboard a ship--eating boiled paste and all sorts of things, and -so the sea is grossly misrepresented. Did that dreadfully healthy Mr. -Thompson awake you with his tramping on deck? Of course he did; he's a -dreadful man. If he goes on like this we'll have to petition the captain -to lay down bark on the deck. Now I'll leave you. Come aloft when -you are ready; and, by the way, you must take care what dress you put -on--very great care.” - -“Why, I thought that aboard ship one might wear anything,” said the -girl. - -“Never was there a greater mistake, my child. People say the same about -going to the seaside: anything will do; but you know how one requires to -be doubly particular there; and it's just the same in our little world -aboard ship.” - -“You quite frighten me, Mrs. Crawford,” said Daireen. “What advice can -you give me on the subject?” - -Mrs. Crawford was thoughtful. “If you had only had time to prepare -for the voyage, and I had been beside you, everything might have been -different. You must not wear anything pronounced--any distinct colour: -you must find out something undecided--you understand?” - -Daireen looked puzzled. “I'm sorry to say I don't.” - -“Oh, you have surely something of pale sage--no, that is a bad tone -for the first days aboard--too like the complexions of most of the -passengers--but, chocolate-gray? ah, that should do: have you anything -in that to do for a morning dress?” - -Daireen was so extremely fortunate as to be possessed of a garment of -the required tone, and her kind friend left her arraying herself in its -folds. - -On going aloft Daireen found the deck occupied by a select few of the -passengers. The healthy gentleman was just increasing his pace for the -final hundred yards of his morning's walk, and Doctor Campion had got -very near the end of his second cheroot, while he sat talking to a -fair-haired and bronze-visaged man with clear gray eyes that had such -a way of looking at things as caused people to fancy he was making -a mental calculation of the cubic measure of everything; and it was -probably the recollection of their peculiarity that made people fancy, -when these eyes looked into a human face, that the mind of the man was -going through a similar calculation with reference to the human object: -one could not avoid feeling that he had a number of formulas for -calculating the intellectual value of people, and that when he looked at -a person he was thinking which formula should be employed for arriving -at a conclusion regarding that person's mental capacity. - -Mrs. Crawford was chatting with the doctor and his companion, but on -Daireen's appearing, she went over to her. - -“Perfect, my child,” she said in a whisper--“the tone of the dress, I -mean; it will work wonders.” - -While Daireen was reflecting upon the possibility of a suspension of the -laws of nature being the result of the appearance of the chocolate-toned -dress, she was led towards the doctor, who immediately went through a -fiction of rising from his seat as she approached; and one would really -have fancied that he intended getting upon his feet, and was only -restrained at the last moment by a remonstrance of the girl's. Daireen -acknowledged his courtesy, though it was only imaginary, and she was -conscious that his companion had really risen. - -“You haven't made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald, Mr. Harwood?” said -Mrs. Crawford. - -“I have not had the honour,” said the man. - -“Let me present you, Daireen. Mr. Harwood--Miss Gerald. Now take great -care what you say to this gentleman, Daireen; he is a dangerous man--the -most dangerous that any one could meet. He is a detective, dear, and -the worst of all--a literary detective; the 'special' of the _Domnant -Trumpeter_.” - -Daireen had looked into the man's face while she was being presented to -him, and she knew it was the face of a man who had seen the people of -more than one nation. - -“This is not your first voyage, Miss Gerald, or you would not be on deck -so early?” he said. - -“It certainly is not,” she replied. “I was born in India, so that my -first voyage was to England; then I have crossed the Irish Channel -frequently, going to school and returning for the holidays; and I have -also had some long voyages on Lough Suangorm,” she added with a little -smile, for she did not think that her companion would be likely to have -heard of the existence of the Irish fjord. - -“Suangorm? then you have had some of the most picturesque voyages one -can make in the course of a day in this world,” he said. “Lough Suangorm -is the most wonderful fjord in the world, let me tell you.” - -“Then you know it,” she cried with a good deal of surprise. “You must -know the dear old lough or you would not talk so.” She did not seem to -think that his assertion should imply that he had seen a good many other -fjords also. - -“I think I may say I know it. Yes, from those fine headlands that the -Atlantic beats against, to where the purple slope of that great hill -meets the little road.” - -“You know the hill--old Slieve Docas? How strange! I live just at the -foot.” - -“I have a sketch of a mansion, taken just there,” he said, laughing. “It -is of a dark brown exterior.” - -“Exactly.” - -“It looks towards the sea.” - -“It does indeed.” - -“It is exceedingly picturesque.” - -“Picturesque?” - -“Well, yes; the house I allude to is very much so. If I recollect -aright, the one window of the wall was not glazed, and the smoke -certainly found its way out through a hole in the roof.” - -“Oh, that is too bad,” said Daireen. “I had no idea that the -peculiarities of my country people would be known so far away. Please -don't say anything about that sketch to the passengers aboard.” - -“I shall never be tempted to allude, even by the 'pronouncing of some -doubtful phrase,' to the--the--peculiarities of your country people, -Miss Gerald,” he answered. “It is a lovely country, and contains the -most hospitable people in the world; but their talent does not develop -itself architecturally. Ah! there is the second bell. I hope you have an -appetite.” - -“Have you been guarded enough in your conversation, Daireen?” said Mrs. -Crawford, coming up with the doctor, whose rising at the summons of the -breakfast-bell was by no means a fiction. - -“The secrets of the Home Rule Confederation are safe in the keeping of -Miss Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, with a smile which any one could see was -simply the result of his satisfaction at having produced a well-turned -sentence. - -The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, more so even than Robinson -the steward had anticipated when on the previous evening he had laid -down that second plate of buttered toast before the novices. - -Of the young ladies only three appeared at the table, and their -complexions were of the softest amber shade that was ever worked in -satin in the upholstery of mock-mediæval furniture. Major Crawford had -just come out of the steward's pantry, and he greeted Daireen with all -courtesy, as indeed he did the other young ladies at the table, for the -major was gallant and gay aboard ship. - -After every one had been seated for about ten minutes, the curtain that -screened off one of the cabin entrances from the saloon was moved aside, -and the figure of the young man to whom Mrs. Crawford had alluded as -Mr. Glaston appeared. He came slowly forward, nodding to the captain and -saying good-morning to Mrs. Crawford, while he elevated his eyebrows in -recognition of Mr. Harwood, taking his seat at the table. - -“You can't have an appetite coming directly out of your bunk,” said the -doctor. - -“Indeed?” said Mr. Glaston, without the least expression. - -“Quite impossible,” said the doctor. “You should have been up an hour -ago at least. Here is Mr. Thompson, who has walked more than three miles -in the open air.” - -“Ah,” said the other, never moving his eyes to see the modest smile that -spread itself over the features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. “Ah, I -heard some one who seemed to be going in for that irrepressible thousand -miles in a thousand hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a grape.” The last -sentence he addressed to the waiter, who, having been drilled by -the steward on the subject of Mr. Glaston's tastes, did not show any -astonishment at being asked for fruit instead of fish, but hastened off -to procure the grape and the pear. - -While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced across the table, and gave -a visible start as his eyes rested upon one of the young ladies--a -pleasant-looking girl wearing a pink dress and having a blue ribbon in -her hair. Mr. Glaston gave a little shudder, and then turned away. - -“That face--ah, where have I beheld it?” muttered Mr. Harwood to the -doctor. - -“Dam puppy!” said the doctor. - -Then the plate and fruit were laid before Mr. Glaston, who said quickly, -“Take them away.” The bewildered waiter looked towards his chief and -obeyed, so that Mr. Glaston remained with an empty plate. Robinson -became uneasy. - -“Can I get you anything, sir?--we have three peaches aboard and a -pine-apple,” he murmured. - -“Can't touch anything now, Robinson,” Mr. Glaston answered. - -“The doctor is right,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have no appetite, Mr. -Glaston.” - -“No,” he replied; “not _now_,” and he gave the least glance towards -the girl in pink, who began to feel that all her school dreams of going -forth into the world of men to conquer and overcome were being realised -beyond her wildest anticipations. - -Then there was a pause at the table, which the good major broke by -suddenly inquiring something of the captain. Mr. Glaston, however, sat -silent, and somewhat sad apparently, until the breakfast was over. - -Daireen went into her cabin for a book, and remained arranging some -volumes on the little shelf for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on deck -when she ascended, and he was engaged in a very serious conversation -with Mrs. Crawford. - -“Something must be done. Surely she has a guardian aboard who is not so -utterly lost to everything of truth and right as to allow that to go on -unchecked.” - -These words Daireen could make out as she passed the young man and the -major's wife, and the girl began to fear that something terrible was -about to happen. But Mr. Harwood, who was standing above the major's -chair, hastened forward as she appeared. - -“Why, Major Crawford has been telling me that your father is Colonel -Gerald,” he said. “Mrs. Crawford never mentioned that fact, thinking -that I should be able to guess it for myself.” - -“Did you know papa?” Daireen asked. - -“I met him several times when I was out about the Baroda affair,” said -the “special.” - -“And as you are his daughter, I suppose it will interest you to know -that he has been selected as the first governor of the Castaways.” - -Daireen looked puzzled. “The Castaways?” she said. - -“Yes, Miss Gerald; the lovely Castaway Islands which, you know, have -just been annexed by England. Colonel Gerald has been chosen by the -Colonial Secretary as the first governor.” - -“But I heard nothing of this,” said Daireen, a little astonished to -receive such information in the Bay of Biscay. - -“How could you hear anything of it? No one outside the Cabinet has the -least idea of it.” - -“And you----” said the girl doubtfully. - -“Ah, my dear Miss Gerald, the resources of information possessed by the -_Dominant Trumpeter_ are as unlimited as they are trustworthy. You may -depend upon what I tell you. It is not generally known that I am now -bound for the Castaway group, to make the British public aware of the -extent of the treasure they have acquired in these sunny isles. But I -understood that Colonel Gerald was on his way from Madras?” - -Daireen explained how her father came to be at the Cape, and Mr. Harwood -gave her a few cheering words regarding his sickness. She was greatly -disappointed when their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Crawford. - -“The poor fellow!” she said--“Mr. Glaston, I mean. I have induced him to -go down and eat some grapes and a pear.” - -“Why couldn't he take them at breakfast and not betray his idiocy?” said -Mr. Harwood. - -“Mr. Harwood, you have no sympathy for sufferers from sensitiveness,” - replied the lady. “Poor Mr. Glaston! he had an excellent appetite, but -he found it impossible to touch anything the instant he saw that fearful -pink dress with the blue ribbon hanging over it.” - -“Poor fellow!” said Mr. Harwood. - -“Dam puppy!” said the doctor. - -“Campion!” cried Mrs. Crawford severely. - -“A thousand pardons! my dear Miss Gerald,” said the transgressor. “But -what can a man say when he hears of such puppyism? This is my third -voyage with that young man, and he has been developing into the -full-grown puppy with the greatest rapidity.” - -“You have no fine feeling, Campion,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have got -no sympathy for those who are artistically sensitive. But hush! here -is the offending person herself, and with such a hat! Now admit that to -look at her sends a cold shudder through you.” - -“I think her a devilish pretty little thing, by gad,” said the doctor. - -The young lady with the pink dress and the blue ribbon appeared, wearing -the additional horror of a hat lined with yellow and encircled with -mighty flowers. - -“Something must be done to suppress her,” said Mrs. Crawford decisively. -“Surely such people must have a better side to their natures that one -may appeal to.” - -“I doubt it, Mrs. Crawford,” said Mr. Harwood, with only the least tinge -of sarcasm in his voice. “I admit that one might not have been in -utter despair though the dress was rather aggressive, but I cannot see -anything but depravity in that hat with those floral splendours.” - -“But what is to be done?” said the lady. “Mr. Glaston would, no doubt, -advocate making a Jonah of that young person for the sake of saving the -rest of the ship's company. But, however just that might be, I do not -suppose it would be considered strictly legal.” - -“Many acts of justice are done that are not legal,” replied Harwood -gravely. “From a legal standpoint, Cain was no murderer--his accuser -being witness and also judge. He would leave the court without a stain -on his character nowadays. Meantime, major, suppose we have a smoke on -the bridge.” - -“He fancies he has said something clever,” remarked Mrs. Crawford when -he had walked away; and it must be confessed that Mr. Harwood had a -suspicion to that effect. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - His will is not his own; - - For he himself is subject to his birth: - - He may not, as unvalued persons do, - - Carve for himself; for on his choice depends - - The safety and the health of this whole state, - - And therefore must his choice be circumscribed - - Unto the voice and yielding of that body, - - Whereof he is the head. - -_Osric_.... Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent -differences, of very soft society and great showing; indeed, to speak -feelingly of him, he is the card... of gentry. - -_Hamlet_.... His definement suffers no perdition in you... But, in the -verity of extolment I take him to be a soul of great article.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE information which Daireen had received on the unimpeachable -authority of the special correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ was -somewhat puzzling to her at first; but as she reflected upon the fact -hat the position of governor of the newly-acquired Castaway group must -be one of importance, she could not help feeling some happiness; only in -the midmost heart of her joy her recollection clasped a single grief---a -doubt about her father was still clinging to her heart. The letter her -grandfather had received which caused her to make up her mind to set out -for the Cape, merely stated that Colonel Gerald had been found too weak -to continue the homeward voyage in the vessel that had brought him from -India. He had a bad attack of fever, and was not allowed to be moved -from where he lay at the Cape. The girl thought over all of this as she -reflected upon what Mr. Harwood had told her, and looking over the long -restless waters of the Bay of Biscay from her seat far astern, her eyes -became very misty; the unhappy author represented by the yellow-covered -book which she had been reading lay neglected upon her knee. But soon -her brave, hopeful heart took courage, and she began to paint in her -imagination the fairest pictures of the future--a future beneath the -rich blue sky that was alleged by the Ministers who had brought about -the annexation, evermore to overshadow the Castaway group--a future -beneath the purple shadow of the giant Slieve Docas when her father -would have discharged his duties at the Castaways. - -She could not even pretend to herself to be reading the book she had -brought up, so that Mrs. Crawford could not have been accused of an -interruption when she drew her chair alongside the girl's, saying: - -“We must have a little chat together, now that there is a chance for it. -It is really terrible how much time one can fritter away aboard ship. I -have known people take long voyages for the sake of study, and yet never -open a single book but a novel. By the way, what is this the major has -been telling me Harwood says about your father?” - -Daireen repeated all that Harwood had said regarding the new island -colony, and begged Mrs. Crawford to give an opinion as to the -trustworthiness of the information. - -“My dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, “you may depend upon its truth if -Harwood told it to you. The _Dominant Trumpeter_ sends out as many arms -as an octopus, for news, and, like the octopus too, it has the instinct -of only making use of what is worth anything. The Government have been -very good to George--I mean Colonel Gerald--he was always 'George' with -us when he was lieutenant. The Castaway governorship is one of the -nice things they sometimes have to dispose of to the deserving. It was -thought, you know, that George would sell out and get his brevet long -ago, but what he often said to us after your poor mother died convinced -me that he would not accept a quiet life. And so it was Mr. Harwood that -gave you this welcome news,” she continued, adding in a thoughtful tone, -“By the way, what do you think of Mr. Harwood?” - -“I really have not thought anything about him,” Daireen replied, -wondering if it was indeed a necessity of life aboard ship to be able at -a moment's notice to give a summary of her opinion as to the nature of -every person she might chance to meet. - -“He is a very nice man,” said Mrs. Crawford; “only just inclined to be -conceited, don't you think? This is our third voyage with him, so that -we know something of him. One knows more of a person at the end of a -week at sea than after a month ashore. What can be keeping Mr. Glaston -over his pears, I wonder? I meant to have presented him to you before. -Ah, here he comes out of the companion. I asked him to return to me.” - -But again Mrs. Crawford's expectations were dashed to the ground. Mr. -Glaston certainly did appear on deck, and showed some sign in a -languid way of walking over to where Mrs. Crawford was sitting, but -unfortunately before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight -of that terrible pink dress and the hat with the jaundiced interior. He -stopped short, and a look of martyrdom passed over his face as he turned -and made his way to the bridge in the opposite direction to where -that horror of pronounced tones sat quite unconscious of the agony her -appearance was creating in the aesthetic soul of the young man. - -Daireen having glanced up and seen the look of dismay upon his face, and -the flight of Mr. Glaston, could not avoid laughing outright so soon as -he had disappeared. But Mrs. Crawford did not laugh. On the contrary she -looked very grave. - -“This is terrible--terrible, Daireen,” she said. “That vile hat has -driven him away. I knew it must.” - -“Matters are getting serious indeed,” said the girl, with only the least -touch of mockery in her voice. “If he is not allowed to eat anything at -breakfast in sight of the dress, and he is driven up to the bridge by -a glimpse of the hat, I am afraid that his life will not be quite happy -here.” - -“Happy! my dear, you cannot conceive the agonies he endures through his -sensitiveness. I must make the acquaintance of that young person and -try to bring her to see the error of her ways. Oh, how fortunate you had -this chocolate-gray!” - -“I must have thought of it in a moment of inspiration,” said Daireen. - -“Come, you really mustn't laugh,” said the elder lady reprovingly. “It -was a happy thought, at any rate, and I only hope that you will be able -to sustain its effect by something good at dinner. I must look over your -trunks and tell you what tone is most artistic.” - -Daireen began to feel rebellious. - -“My dear Mrs. Crawford, it is very kind of you to offer to take so much -trouble; but, you see, I do not feel it to be a necessity to choose the -shade of my dress solely to please the taste of a gentleman who may not -be absolutely perfect in his ideas.” - -Mrs. Crawford laughed. “Do not get angry, my dear,” she said. “I admire -your spirit, and I will not attempt to control your own good taste; -you will never, I am sure, sink to such a depth of depravity as is -manifested by that hat.” - -“Well, I think you may depend on me so far,” said Daireen. - -Shortly afterwards Mrs. Crawford descended to arrange some matters in -her cabin, and Daireen had consequently an opportunity of returning to -her neglected author. - -But before she had made much progress in her study she was again -interrupted, and this time by Doctor Campion, who had been smoking with -Mr. Harwood on the ship's bridge. Doctor Campion was a small man, with -a reddish face upon which a perpetual frown was resting. He had a jerky -way of turning his head as if it was set upon a ratchet wheel only -capable of shifting a tooth at a time. He had been in the army for a -good many years, and had only accepted the post aboard the _Cardwell -Castle_ for the sake of his health. - -“Young cub!” he muttered, as he came up to Daireen. “Infernal young -cub!--I beg your pardon, Miss Gerald, but I really must say it. That -fellow Glaston is getting out of all bounds. Ah, it's his father's -fault--his father's fault. Keeps him dawdling about England without any -employment. Why, it would have been better for him to have taken to the -Church, as they call it, at once, idle though the business is.” - -“Surely you have not been wearing an inartistic tie, Doctor Campion?” - -“Inartistic indeed! The puppy has got so much cant on his finger-ends -that weak-minded people think him a genius. Don't you believe it, my -dear; he's a dam puppy--excuse me, but there's really no drawing it mild -here.” - -Daireen was amused at the doctor's vehemence, however shocked she may -have been at his manner of getting rid of it. - -“What on earth has happened with Mr. Glaston now?” she asked. “It is -impossible that there could be another obnoxious dress aboard.” - -“He hasn't given himself any airs in that direction since,” said the -doctor. “But he came up to the bridge where we were smoking, and after -he had talked for a minute with Harwood, he started when he saw a boy -who had been sent up to clean out one of the hencoops--asked if we -didn't think his head marvellously like Carlyle's--was amazed at our -want of judgment--went up to the boy and cross-questioned him--found out -that his father sells vegetables to the Victoria Docks--asked if it had -ever been remarked before that his head was like Carlyle's--boy says -quickly that if the man he means is the tailor in Wapping, anybody that -says his head is like that man's is a liar, and then boy goes quietly -down. 'Wonderful!' says our genius, as he comes over to us; 'wonderful -head--exactly the same as Carlyle's, and language marvellously -similar--brief--earnest--emphatic--full of powah!' Then he goes on -to say he'll take notes of the boy's peculiarities and send them to a -magazine. I couldn't stand any more of that sort of thing, so I left him -with Harwood. Harwood can sift him.” - -Daireen laughed at this new story of the young man whose movements -seemed to be regarded as of so much importance by every one aboard the -steamer. She began really to feel interested in this Mr. Glaston; and -she thought that perhaps she might as well be particular about the tone -of the dress she would select for appearing in before the judicial eyes -of this Mr. Glaston. She relinquished the design she had formed in -her mind while Mrs. Crawford was urging on her the necessity for -discrimination in this respect: she had resolved to show a recklessness -in her choice of a dress, but now she felt that she had better take Mrs. -Crawford's advice, and give some care to the artistic combinations of -her toilette. - -The result of her decision was that she appeared in such studious -carelessness of attire that Mr. Glaston, sitting opposite to her, was -enabled to eat a hearty dinner utterly regardless of the aggressive -splendour of the imperial blue dress worn by the other young lady, -with a pink ribbon flowing over it from her hair. This young lady's -imagination was unequal to suggesting a more diversified arrangement -than she had already shown. She thought it gave evidence of considerable -strategical resources to wear that pink ribbon over the blue dress: it -was very nearly as effective as the blue ribbon over the pink, of the -morning. The appreciation of contrast as an important element of effect -in art was very strongly developed in this young lady. - -Mrs. Crawford did not conceal the satisfaction she felt observing the -appetite of Mr. Glaston; and after dinner she took his arm as he went -towards the bridge. - -“I am so glad you were not offended with that dreadful young person's -hideous colours,” she said, as they strolled along. - -“I could hardly have believed it possible that such wickedness could -survive nowadays,” he replied. “But I was, after the first few minutes, -quite unconscious of its enormity. My dear Mrs. Crawford, your young -protégée appeared as a spirit of light to charm away that fiend of evil. -She sat before me--a poem of tones--a delicate symphony of Schumann's -played at twilight on the brink of a mere of long reeds and water-flags, -with a single star shining through the well-defined twigs of a solitary -alder. That was her idea, don't you think?” - -“I have no doubt of it,” the lady replied after a little pause. “But -if you allow me to present you to her you will have an opportunity of -finding out. Now do let me.” - -“Not this evening, Mrs. Crawford; I do not feel equal to it,” he -answered. “She has given me too much to think about--too many ideas to -work out. That was the most thoughtful and pure-souled toilette I ever -recollect; but there are a few points about it I do not fully grasp, -though I have an instinct of their meaning. No, I want a quiet hour -alone. But you will do me the favour to thank the child for me.” - -“I wish you would come and do it yourself,” said the lady. “But I -suppose there is no use attempting to force you. If you change your -mind, remember that we shall be here.” - -She left the young man preparing a cigarette, and joined Daireen and -the major, who were sitting far astern: the girl with that fiction of -a fiction still in her hand; her companion with a cheroot that was -anything but insubstantial in his fingers. - -“My dear child,” whispered Mrs. Crawford, “I am so glad you took your -own way and would not allow me to choose your dress for you. I could -never have dreamt of anything so perfect and----yes, it is far beyond -what I could have composed.” - -Mrs. Crawford thought it better on the whole not to transfer to Daireen -the expression of gratitude Mr. Glaston had begged to be conveyed to -her. She had an uneasy consciousness that such a message coming to -one who was as yet unacquainted with Mr. Glaston might give her the -impression that he was inclined to have some of that unhappy conceit, -with the possession of which Mrs. Crawford herself had accredited the -race generally. - -“Miss Gerald is an angel in whatever dress she may wear,” said the major -gallantly. “What is dress, after all?” he asked. “By gad, my dear, the -finest women I ever recollect seeing were in Burmah, and all the dress -they wore was the merest----” - -“Major, you forget yourself,” cried his wife severely. - -The major pulled vigorously at the end of his moustache, grinning and -bobbing his head towards the doctor. - -“By gad, my dear, the recollection of those beauties would make any -fellow forget not only himself but his own wife, even if she was as fine -a woman as yourself.” - -The doctor's face relapsed into its accustomed frown after he had given -a responsive grin and a baritone chuckle to the delicate pleasantry of -his old comrade. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - Look, with what courteous action - - It waves you to a more removed ground: - - But do not go with it. - - The very place puts toys of desperation, - - Without more motive, into every brain. - -_Horatio._ What are they that would speak with me? - -_Servant_. Sea-faring men, sir.--_Hamlet_. - - -|WHO does not know the delightful monotony of a voyage southward, broken -only at the intervals of anchoring beneath the brilliant green slopes of -Madeira or under the grim shadow of the cliffs of St. Helena? - -The first week of the voyage for those who are not sensitive of the -uneasy motion of the ship through the waves of the Bay of Biscay is -perhaps the most delightful, for then every one is courteous with every -one else. The passengers have not become friendly enough to be able to -quarrel satisfactorily. The young ladies have got a great deal of white -about them, and they have not begun to show that jealousy of each other -which the next fortnight so powerfully develops. The men, too, are -prodigal in their distribution of cigars; and one feels in one's own -heart nothing but the most generous emotions, as one sits filling a -meerschaum with Latakia in the delicate twilight of time and of thought -that succeeds the curried lobster and pilau chickens as prepared in the -galley of such ships as the _Cardwell Castle_. Certainly for a week of -Sabbaths a September voyage to Madeira must be looked to. - -Things had begun to arrange themselves aboard the _Cardwell Castle_. The -whist sets and the deck sets had been formed. The far-stretching arm of -society had at least one finger in the construction of the laws of life -in this Atlantic ship-town. - -The young woman with the pronounced tastes in colour and the large -resources of imagination in the arrangement of blue and pink had become -less aggressive, as she was compelled to fall back upon the minor -glories of her trunk, so that there was no likelihood of Mr. Glaston's -perishing of starvation. Though very fond of taking-up young ladies, -Mrs. Crawford had no great struggle with her propensity so far as this -young lady was concerned. But as Mr. Glaston had towards the evening of -the third day of the voyage found himself in a fit state of mind to be -presented to Miss Gerald, Mrs. Crawford had nothing to complain of. She -knew that the young man was invariably fascinating to all of her sex, -and she could see no reason why Miss Gerald should not have at least the -monotony of the voyage relieved for her through the improving nature -of his conversation. To be sure, Mr. Harwood also possessed in his -conversation many elements of improvement, but then they were of a more -commonplace type in Mrs. Crawford's eyes, and she thought it as well, -now and again when he was sitting beside Daireen, to make a third to -their party and assist in the solution of any question they might be -discussing. She rather wished that it had not been in Mr. Harwood's -power to give Daireen that information about her father's appointment; -it was a sort of link of friendship between him and the girl; but Mrs. -Crawford recollected her own responsibility with regard to Daireen too -well to allow such a frail link to become a bond to bind with any degree -of force. - -She was just making a mental resolution to this effect upon the day -preceding their expected arrival at Madeira, when Mr. Harwood, who had -before tiffin been showing the girl how to adjust a binocular glass, -strolled up to where the major's wife sat resolving many things, -reflecting upon her victories in quarter-deck campaigns of the past and -laying out her tactics for the future. - -“This is our third voyage together, is it not, Mrs. Crawford?” he asked. - -“Let me see,” said the lady. “Yes, it is our third. Dear, dear, how time -runs past us!” - -“I wish it did run past us; unfortunately it seems to remain to work -some of its vengeance upon each of us. But do you think we ever had a -more charming voyage so far as this has run, Mrs. Crawford?” - -The lady became thoughtful. “That was a very nice trip in the P. & O.'s -_Turcoman_, when Mr. Carpingham of the Gunners proposed to Clara Walton -before he landed at Aden,” she said. “Curiously enough, I was thinking -about that very voyage just before you came up now. General Walton -had placed Clara in my care, and it was I who presented her to young -Carpingham.” There was a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she -recalled this victory of the past. - -“I remember well,” said Mr. Harwood. “How pleased every one was, and -also how--well, the weather was extremely warm in the Red Sea just -before he proposed. But I certainly think that this voyage is likely to -be quite as pleasant. By the way, what a charming protégée you have got -this time, Mrs. Crawford.” - -“She is a dear girl indeed, and I hope that she may find her father all -right at the Cape. Think of what she must suffer.” - -Mr. Harwood glanced round and saw that Mr. Glaston had strolled up to -Daireen's chair. “Yes, I have no doubt that she suffers,” he said. “But -she is so gentle, so natural in her thoughts and in her manner, I should -indeed be sorry that any trouble would come to her.” He was himself -speaking gently now--so gently, in fact, that Mrs. Crawford drew her -lips together with a slight pressure. “Perhaps it is because I am so -much older than she that she talks to me naturally as she would to her -father. I am old enough to be her father, I suppose,” he added almost -mournfully. But this only made the lady's lips become more compressed. -She had heard men talk before now of being old enough to be young -ladies' fathers, and she could also recollect instances of men who were -actually old enough to be young ladies' grandfathers marrying those very -young ladies. - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Daireen is a dear natural little thing.” - Into the paternal potentialities of Mr. Harwood's position towards this -dear natural little thing Mrs. Crawford did not think it judicious to go -just then. - -“She is a dear child,” he repeated. “By the way, we shall be at Funchal -at noon to-morrow, and we do not leave until the evening. You will land, -I suppose?” - -“I don't think I shall, I know every spot so well, and those bullock -sleighs are so tiresome. I am not so young as I was when I first made -their acquaintance.” - -“Oh, really, if that is your only plea, my dear Mrs. Crawford, we may -count on your being in our party.” - -“Our party!” said the lady. - -“I should not say that until I get your consent,” said Harwood quickly. -“Miss Gerald has never been at the island, you see, and she is girlishly -eager to go ashore. Miss Butler and her mother are also landing”--these -were other passengers--“and in a weak moment I volunteered my services -as guide. Don't you think you can trust me so far as to agree to be one -of us?” - -“Of course I can,” she said. “If Daireen wishes to go ashore you may -depend upon my keeping her company. But you will have to provide a -sleigh for myself.” - -“You may depend upon the sleigh, Mrs. Crawford; and many thanks for your -trusting to my guidance. Though I sleigh you yet you will trust me.” - -“Mr. Harwood, that is dreadful. I am afraid that Mrs. Butler will need -one of them also.” - -“The entire sleigh service shall be impressed if necessary,” said the -“special,” as he walked away. - -Mrs. Crawford felt that she had not done anything rash. Daireen would, -no doubt, be delighted with the day among the lovely heights of Madeira, -and if by some little thoughtfulness it would be possible to hit upon a -plan that should give over the guidance of some of the walking members -of the party to Mr. Glaston, surely the matter was worth pursuing. - -Mr. Glaston was just at this instant looking into, Daireen's face as he -talked to her. He invariably kept his eyes fixed upon the faces of -the young women to whom he was fond of talking. It did not argue any -earnestness on his part, Mrs. Crawford knew. He seemed now, however, -to be a little in earnest in what he was saying. But then Mrs. -Crawford reflected that the subjects upon which his discourse was most -impassioned were mostly those that other people would call trivial, -such as the effect produced upon the mind of man by seeing a grape-green -ribbon lying upon a pale amber cushion. “Every colour has got its soul,” - she once heard him say; “and though any one can appreciate its meaning -and the work it has to perform in the world, the subtle thoughts -breathed by the tones are too delicate to be understood except by a -few. Colour is language of the subtlest nature, and one can praise God -through that medium just as one can blaspheme through it.” He had said -this very earnestly at one time, she recollected, and as she now saw -Daireen laugh she thought it was not impossible that it might be at some -phrase of the same nature, the meaning of which her uncultured ear did -not at once catch, that Daireen had laughed. Daireen, at any rate, did -laugh in spite of his earnestness of visage. - -In a few moments Mr. Glaston came over to Mrs. Crawford, and now his -face wore an expression of sadness rather than of any other emotion. - -“My dear Mrs. Crawford, you surely cannot intend to give your consent -to that child's going ashore tomorrow. She tells me that that newspaper -fellow has drawn her into a promise to land with a party--actually a -party--and go round the place like a Cook's excursion.” - -“Oh, I hope we shall not be like that, Mr. Glaston,” said Mrs. Crawford. - -“But you have not given your consent?” - -“If Daireen would enjoy it I do not see how I could avoid. Mr. Harwood -was talking to me just now. He seems to think she will enjoy herself, as -she has never seen the island before. Will you not be one of our party?” - -“Oh, Mrs. Crawford, if you have got the least regard for me, do not -say that word party; it means everything that is popular; it suggests -unutterable horrors to me. No subsequent pleasure could balance the -agony I should endure going ashore. Will you not try and induce that -child to give up the idea? Tell her what dreadful taste it would be to -join a party--that it would most certainly destroy her perceptions of -beauty for months to come.” - -“I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood,” said the lady; “if going -ashore would do all of this it would certainly be better for Daireen to -remain aboard. But they will be taking in coals here,” she added, as the -sudden thought struck her. - -“She can shut herself in her cabin and neither see nor hear anything -offensive. Who but a newspaper man would think of suggesting to cultured -people the possibility of enjoyment in a party?” - -But the newspaper man had strolled up to the place beside Daireen, -which the aesthetic man had vacated. He knew something of the art of -strategical defence, this newspaper man, and he was well aware that as -he had got the promise of the major's wife, all the arguments that might -be advanced by any one else would not cause him to be defrauded of the -happiness of being by this girl's side in one of the loveliest spots of -the world. - -“I will find out what Daireen thinks,” said Mrs. Crawford, in reply to -Mr. Glaston; and just then she turned and saw the newspaper man beside -the girl. - -“Never mind him,” said Mr. Glaston; “tell the poor child that it is -impossible for her to go.” - -“I really cannot break my promise,” replied the lady. “We must be -resigned, it will only be for a few hours.” - -“This is the saddest thing I ever knew,” said Mr. Glaston. “She will -lose all the ideas she was getting--all through being of a party. Good -heavens, a party!” - -Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston was annoyed at the presence of -Harwood by the side of the girl, and she smiled, for she was too old a -tactician not to be well aware of the value of a skeleton enemy. - -“How kind of you to say you would not mind my going ashore,” said -Daireen, walking up to her. “We shall enjoy ourselves I am sure, and Mr. -Harwood knows every spot to take us to. I was afraid that Mr. Glaston -might be talking to you as he was to me.” - -“Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my dear, if you think you would -like to go ashore I shall not say anything but that I will be happy to -take care of you.” - -“You are all that is good,” said Mr. Harwood. This was very pretty, the -lady thought--very pretty indeed; but at the same time she was making up -her mind that if the gentleman before her had conceived it probable that -he should be left to exhibit any of the wonders of the island scenery -to the girl, separate from the companionship of the girl's temporary -guardian, he would certainly find out that he had reckoned without due -regard to other contingencies. - -Sadness was the only expression visible upon the face of Mr. Glaston for -the remainder of this day; but upon the following morning this aspect -had changed to one of contempt as he heard nearly all the cabin's -company talking with expectancy of the joys of a few hours ashore. It -was a great disappointment to him to observe the brightening of the face -of Daireen Gerald, as Mr. Harwood came to tell her that the land was in -sight. - -Daireen's face, however, did brighten. She went up to the ship's bridge, -and Mr. Harwood, laying one hand upon her shoulder, pointed out with the -other where upon the horizon lay a long, low, gray cloud. Mrs. Crawford -observing his action, and being well aware that the girl's range of -vision was not increased in the smallest degree by the touch of his -fingers upon her shoulder, made a resolution that she herself would -be the first to show Daireen the earliest view of St. Helena when they -should be approaching that island. - -But there lay that group of cloud, and onward the good steamer sped. -In the course of an hour the formless mass had assumed a well-defined -outline against the soft blue sky. Then a lovely white bird came about -the ship from the distance like a spirit from those Fortunate Islands. -In a short time a gleam of sunshine was seen reflected from the flat -surface of a cliff, and then the dark chasms upon the face of each of -the island-rocks of the Dezertas could be seen. But when these were -passed the long island of Madeira appeared gray and massive, and with -a white cloud clinging about its highest ridges. Onward still, and the -thin white thread of foam encircling the rocks was perceived. Then the -outline of the cliffs stood defined against the fainter background -of the island; but still all was gray and colourless. Not for long, -however, for the sunlight smote the clouds and broke their gray masses, -and then fell around the ridges, showing the green heights of vines -and slopes of sugar-canes. But it was not until the roll of the waves -against the cliff-faces was heard that the cloud-veil was lifted and -all the glad green beauty of the slope flashed up to the blue sky, and -thrilled all those who stood on the deck of the vessel. - -Along this lovely coast the vessel moved through the sparkling green -ripples. Not the faintest white fleck of cloud was now in the sky, and -the sunlight falling downwards upon the island, brought out every brown -rock of the coast in bold relief against the brilliant green of the -slope. So close to the shore the vessel passed, the nearer cliffs -appeared to glide away as the land in their shade was disclosed, and -this effect of soft motion was entrancing to all who experienced it. -Then the low headland with the island-rock crowned with a small pillared -building was reached and passed, and the lovely bay of Funchal came in -view. - -Daireen, who had lived among the sombre magnificence of the Irish -scenery, felt this soft dazzling green as something marvellously strange -and unexpected. Had not Mr. Glaston descended to his cabin at the -earliest expression of delight that was forced from the lips of some -young lady on the deck, he, would have been still more disappointed with -Daireen, for her face was shining with happiness. But Mr. Harwood found -more pleasure in watching her face than he did in gazing at the long -crescent slope of the bay, and at the white houses that peeped from -amongst the vines, or at the high convent of the hill. He did not speak -a word to the girl, but only watched her as she drank in everything of -beauty that passed before her. - -Then the Loo rock at the farther point of the bay was neared, and as -the engine slowed, the head of the steamer was brought round towards the -white town of Funchal, spread all about the beach where the huge -rollers were breaking. The tinkle of the engine-room telegraph brought a -wonderful silence over everything as the propeller ceased. The voice of -the captain giving orders about the lead line was heard distinctly, and -the passengers felt inclined to speak in whispers. Suddenly with a harsh -roar the great chain cable rushes out and the anchor drops into the -water. - -“This is the first stage of our voyage,” said Mr. Harwood. “Now, while I -select a boat, will you kindly get ready for landing? Oh, Mrs. Crawford, -you will be with us at once, I suppose?” - -“Without the loss of a moment,” said the lady, going down to the cabins -with Daireen. - -The various island authorities pushed off from the shore in their boats, -sitting under canvas awnings and looking unpleasantly like banditti. -Doctor Campion answered their kind inquiries regarding the health of the -passengers, for nothing could exceed the attentive courtesy shown by the -government in this respect. - -Then a young Scotchman, who had resolved to emulate Mr. Harwood's -example in taking a party ashore, began making a bargain by signs with -one of the boatmen, while his friends stood around. The major and the -doctor having plotted together to go up to pay a visit to an hotel, -pushed off in a government boat without acquainting any one with their -movements. But long before the Scotchman had succeeded in reducing -the prohibitory sum named by the man with whom he was treating for the -transit of the party ashore, Mr. Harwood had a boat waiting at the -rail for his friends, and Mrs. Butler and her daughter were in act to -descend, chatting with the “special” who was to be their guide. Another -party had already left for the shore, the young lady who had worn the -blue and pink appearing in a bonnet surrounded with resplendent flowers -and beads. But before the smiles of Mrs. Butler and Harwood had passed -away, Mrs. Crawford and Daireen had come on deck again, the former with -many apologies for her delay. - -Mr. Harwood ran down the sloping rail to assist the ladies into the -boat that rose and fell with every throb of the waves against the ship's -side. Mrs. Crawford followed him and was safely stowed in a place in the -stern. Then came Mrs. Butler and her daughter, and while Mr. Harwood was -handing them off the last step Daireen began to descend. But she had not -got farther down than to where a young sailor was kneeling to shift the -line of one of the fruit boats, when she stopped suddenly with a great -start that almost forced a cry from her. - -“For God's sake go on--give no sign if you don't wish to make me -wretched,” said the sailor in a whisper. - -“Come, Miss Gerald, we are waiting,” cried Harwood up the long rail. - -Daireen remained irresolute for a moment, then walked slowly down, and -allowed herself to be handed into the boat. - -“Surely you are not timid, Miss Gerald,” said Harwood as the boat pushed -off. - -“Timid?” said Daireen mechanically. - -“Yes, your hand was really trembling as I helped you down.” - -“No, no, I am not--not timid, only--I fear I shall not be very good -company to-day; I feel----” she looked back to the steamer and did not -finish her sentence. - -Mr. Harwood glanced at her for a moment, thinking if it really could -be possible that she was regretting the absence of Mr. Glaston. Mrs. -Crawford also looked at her and came to the conclusion that, at the last -moment, the girl was recalling the aesthetic instructions of the young -man who was doubtless sitting lonely in his cabin while she was bent on -enjoying herself with a “party.” - -But Daireen was only thinking how it was she had refrained from crying -out when she saw the face of that sailor on the rail, and when she heard -his voice; and it must be confessed that it was rather singular, taking -into account the fact that she had recognised in the features and voice -of that sailor the features and voice of Standish Macnamara. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - Your visitation shall receive such thanks - - As fits... remembrance. - - ... Thus do we of wisdom and of reach, - - With windlasses and with assays of bias, - - By indirections find directions out. - - More matter with less art.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE thin white silk thread of a moon was hanging in the blue twilight -over the darkened western slope of the island, and almost within the -horns of its crescent a planet was burning without the least tremulous -motion. The lights of the town were glimmering over the waters, and the -strange, wildly musical cries of the bullock-drivers were borne faintly -out to the steamer, mingling with the sound of the bell of St. Mary's on -the Mount. - -The vessel had just begun to move away from its anchorage, and Daireen -Gerald was standing on the deck far astern leaning over the bulwarks -looking back upon the island slope whose bright green had changed to -twilight purple. Not of the enjoyment of the day she had spent up among -the vines was the girl thinking; her memory fled back to the past days -spent beneath the shadow of a slope that was always purple, with a robe -of heather clinging to it from base to summit. - -“I hope you don't regret having taken my advice about going on shore, -Miss Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, who had come beside her. - -“Oh, no,” she said; “it was all so lovely--so unlike what I ever saw or -imagined.” - -“It has always seemed lovely to me,” he said, “but to-day it was very -lovely. I had got some pleasant recollections of the island before, but -now the memories I shall retain will be the happiest of my life.” - -“Was to-day really so much pleasanter?” asked the girl quickly. “Then I -am indeed fortunate in my first visit. But you were not at any part of -the island that you had not seen before,” she added, after a moment's -pause. - -“No,” he said quietly. “But I saw all to-day under a new aspect.” - -“You had not visited it in September? Ah, I recollect now having heard -that this was the best month for Madeira. You see I am fortunate.” - -“Yes, you are--fortunate,” he said slowly. “You are fortunate; you are a -child; I am--a man.” - -Daireen was quite puzzled by his tone; it was one of sadness, and she -knew that he was not accustomed to be sad. He had not been so at any -time through the day when they were up among the vineyards looking down -upon the tiny ships in the harbour beneath them, or wandering through -the gardens surrounding the villa at which they had lunched after being -presented by their guide--no, he had certainly not displayed any sign of -sadness then. But here he was now beside her watching the lights of the -shore twinkling into dimness, and speaking in this way that puzzled her. - -“I don't know why, if you say you will have only pleasant recollections -of to-day, you should speak in a tone like that,” she said. - -“No, no, you would not understand it,” he replied. If she had kept -silence after he had spoken his previous sentence, he would have been -tempted to say to her what he had on his heart, but her question made -him hold back his words, for it proved to him what he told her--she -would not understand him. - -It is probable, however, that Mrs. Crawford, who by the merest accident, -of course, chanced to come from the cabin at this moment, would have -understood even the most enigmatical utterance that might pass from his -lips on the subject of his future memories of the day they had spent -on the island; she felt quite equal to the solution of any question of -psychological analysis that might arise. But she contented herself now -by calling Daireen's attention to the flashing of the phosphorescent -water at the base of the cliffs round which the vessel was moving, and -the observance of this phenomenon drew the girl's thoughts away from the -possibility of discovering the meaning of the man's words. The major and -his old comrade Doctor Campion then came near and expressed the greatest -anxiety to learn how their friends had passed the day. Both major and -doctor were in the happiest of moods. They had visited the hotel they -agreed in stating, and no one on the deck undertook to prove anything to -the contrary--no one, in fact, seemed to doubt in the least the truth of -what they said. - -In a short time Mrs. Crawford and Daireen were left alone; not for long, -however, for Mr. Glaston strolled languidly up. - -“I cannot say I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I know very well -you did not. I hope you could not.” - -Daireen laughed. “Your hopes are misplaced, I fear, Mr. Glaston,” she -answered. “We had a very happy day--had we not, Mrs. Crawford?” - -“I am afraid we had, dear.” - -“Why, Mr. Harwood said distinctly to me just now,” continued Daireen, -“that it was the pleasantest day he had ever passed upon the island.” - -“Ah, he said so? well, you see, he is a newspaper man, and they all look -at things from a popular standpoint; whatever is popular is right, is -their motto; while ours is, whatever is popular is wrong.” - -He felt himself speaking as the representative of a class, no doubt, -when he made use of the plural. - -“Yes; Mr. Harwood seemed even more pleased than we were,” continued the -girl. “He told me that the recollection of our exploration to-day would -be the--the--yes, the happiest of his life. He did indeed,” she added -almost triumphantly. - -“Did he?” said Mr. Glaston slowly. - -“My dear child,” cried Mrs. Crawford, quickly interposing, “he has got -that way of talking. He has, no doubt, said those very words to every -person he took ashore on his previous visits. He has, I know, said them -every evening for a fortnight in the Mediterranean.” - -“Then you don't think he means anything beyond a stupid compliment to -us? What a wretched thing it is to be a girl, after all. Never mind, I -enjoyed myself beyond any doubt.” - -“It is impossible--quite impossible, child,” said the young man. -“Enjoyment with a refined organisation such as yours can never be -anything that is not reflective--it is something that cannot be shared -with a number of persons. It is quite impossible that you could have -any feeling in common with such a mind as this Mr. Harwood's or with -the other people who went ashore. I heard nothing but expressions of -enjoyment, and I felt really sad to think that there was not a refined -soul among them all. They enjoyed themselves, therefore you did not.” - -“I think I can understand you,” said Mrs. Crawford at once, for she -feared that Daireen might attempt to question the point he insisted on. -Of course when the superior intellect of Mr. Glaston demonstrated that -they could not have enjoyed themselves, it was evident that it was their -own sensations which were deceiving them. Mrs. Crawford trusted to the -decision of the young man's intellect more implicitly than she did her -own senses: just as Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton Heath, came -to believe the practical jesters. - -“Should you enjoy the society and scenery of a desert island better -than an inhabited one?” asked the girl, somewhat rebellious at the -concessions of Mrs. Crawford. - -“Undoubtedly, if everything was in good taste,” he answered quietly. - -“That is, if everything was in accordance with your own taste,” came the -voice of Mr. Harwood, who, unseen, had rejoined the party. - -Mr. Glaston made no reply. He had previously become aware of the -unsatisfactory results of making any answers to such men as wrote for -newspapers. As he had always considered such men outside the world -of art in which he lived and to the inhabitants of which he addressed -himself, it was hardly to be expected that he would put himself on a -level of argument with them. In fact, Mr. Glaston rarely consented to -hold an argument with any one. If people maintained opinions different -from his own, it was so much the worse for those people--that was all he -felt. It was to a certain circle of young women in good society that -he preferred addressing himself, for he knew that to each individual -in that circle he appeared as the prophet and high priest of art. His -tone-poems in the college magazine, his impromptus--musical _aquarellen_ -he called them--performed in secret and out of hearing of any earthly -audience, his colour-harmonies, his statuesque idealisms--all these were -his priestly ministrations; while the interpretation, not of his -own works--this he never attempted--but of the works of three poets -belonging to what he called his school, of one painter, and of one -musical composer, was his prophetical service. - -It was obviously impossible that such a man could put himself on that -mental level which would be implied by his action should he consent -to make any answer to a person like Mr. Harwood. But apart from these -general grounds, Mr. Glaston had got concrete reasons for declining to -discuss any subject with this newspaper man. He knew that it was -Mr. Harwood who had called the tone-poems of the college magazine -alliterative conundrums for young ladies; that it was Mr. Harwood who -had termed one of the colour-harmonies a study in virulent jaundice; -that it was Mr. Harwood who had, after smiling on being told of the -_aquarellen_ impromptus, expressed a desire to hear one of these -compositions--all this Mr. Glaston knew well, and so when Mr. Harwood -made that remark about taste Mr. Glaston did not reply. - -Daireen, however, did not feel the silence oppressive. She kept her eyes -fixed upon that thin thread of moon that was now almost touching the -dark ridge of the island. - -Harwood looked at her for a few moments, and then he too leaned over the -side of the ship and gazed at that lovely moon and its burning star. - -“How curious,” he said gently--“how very curious, is it not, that the -sight of that hill and that moon should bring back to me memories of -Lough Suangorm and Slieve Docas?” - -The girl gave a start. “You are thinking of them too? I am so glad. It -makes me so happy to know that I am not the only one here who knows all -about Suangorm.” Suddenly another thought seemed to come to her. -She turned her eyes away from the island and glanced down the deck -anxiously. - -“No,” said Mr. Harwood very gently indeed; “you are not alone in your -memories of the loveliest spot of the world.” - -Mrs. Crawford thought it well to interpose. “My dear Daireen, you must -be careful not to take a chill now after all the unusual exercise you -have had during the day. Don't you think you had better go below?” - -“Yes, I had much better,” said the girl quickly and in a startled -tone; and she had actually gone to the door of the companion before -she recollected that she had not said good-night either to Glaston or -Harwood. She turned back and redeemed her negligence, and then went down -with her good guardian. - -“Poor child,” thought Mr. Glaston, “she fears that I am hurt by her -disregard of my advice about going ashore with those people. Poor child! -perhaps I was hard upon her!” - -“Poor little thing,” thought Mr. Harwood. “She begins to understand.” - -“It would never do to let that sort or thing go on,” thought Mrs. -Crawford, as she saw that Daireen got a cup of tea before retiring. -Mrs. Crawford fully appreciated Mr. Harwood's cleverness in reading the -girl's thought and so quickly adapting his speech to the requirements of -the moment; but she felt her own superiority of cleverness. - -Each of the three was a careful and experienced observer, but there are -certain conditional influences to be taken into account in arriving at a -correct conclusion as to the motives of speech or action of every human -subject under observation; and the reason that these careful analysts of -motives were so utterly astray in tracing to its source the remissness -of Miss Gerald, was probably because none of the three was aware of -the existence of an important factor necessary for the solution of the -interesting problem they had worked out so airily; this factor being the -sudden appearance of Standish Macnamara beside the girl in the morning, -and her consequent reflections upon the circumstance in the evening. - -But as she sat alone in her cabin, seeing through the port the effect -of the silver moonlight upon the ridge of the hill behind which the moon -itself had now sunk, she was wondering, as she had often wondered during -the day, if indeed it was Standish whom she had seen and whose voice she -had heard. All had been so sudden--so impossible, she thought, that -the sight of him and the hearing of his voice seemed to her but as the -memories of a dream of her home. - -But now that she was alone and capable of reflecting upon the matter, -she felt that she had not been deceived. By some means the young man to -whom she had written her last letter in Ireland was aboard the steamer. -It was very wonderful to the girl to reflect upon this; but then she -thought if he was aboard, why should she not be able to find him and ask -him all about himself? - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - Providence - - Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt - - This mad young man... - - His very madness, like some ore - - Among a mineral of metals base, - - Shows itself pure. - - Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing - - To what I shall unfold. - - It is common for the younger sort - - To lack discretion. - - _Queen_.... Whereon do you look? - - _Hamlet_. On him, on him! look you, how pale he glares. - - ... It is not madness - - That I have uttered: bring me to the test.--_Hamlet_ - - -|THE question which suggested itself to Daireen as to the possibility of -seeing Standish aboard the steamer, was not the only one that occupied -her thoughts. How had he come aboard, and why had he come aboard, were -further questions whose solution puzzled her. She recollected how he -had told her on that last day she had seen him, while they walked in the -garden after leaving The Macnamara in that side room with the excellent -specimen of ancient furniture ranged with glass vessels, that he was -heartily tired of living among the ruins of the castle, and that he had -made up his mind to go out into the world of work. She had then begged -of him to take no action of so much importance until her father should -have returned to give him the advice he needed; and in that brief -postscript which she had added to the farewell letter given into the -care of the bard O'Brian, she had expressed her regret that this counsel -of hers had been rendered impracticable. Was it possible, however, that -Standish placed so much confidence in the likelihood of valuable advice -being given to him by her father that he had resolved to go out to the -Cape and speak with him on the subject face to face, she thought; but -it struck her that there would be something like an inconsistency in the -young man's travelling six thousand miles to take an opinion as to the -propriety of his leaving his home. - -What was she to do? She felt that she must see Standish and have from -his own lips an explanation of how he had come aboard the ship; but -in that, sentence he had spoken to her he had entreated of her to keep -silence, so that she dared not seek for him under the guidance of Mrs. -Crawford or any of her friends aboard the vessel. It would be necessary -for her to find him alone, and she knew that this would be a difficult -thing to do, situated as she was. But let the worst come, she reflected -that it could only result in the true position of Standish being-known. -This was really all that the girl believed could possibly be the result -if a secret interview between herself and a sailor aboard the steamer -should be discovered; and, thinking of the worst consequences so -lightly, made her all the more anxious to hasten on such an interview if -she could contrive it. - -She seated herself upon her little sofa and tried to think by what means -she could meet with Standish, and yet fulfil his entreaty for secrecy. -Her imagination, so far as inventing plans was concerned, did not seem -to be inexhaustible. After half an hour's pondering over the matter, no -more subtle device was suggested to her than going on deck and walking -alone towards the fore-part of the ship between the deck-house and the -bulwarks, where it might possibly chance that Standish would be found. -This was her plan, and she did not presume to think to herself that its -intricacy was the chief element of its possible success. Had she been -aware of the fact that Standish was at that instant standing in the -shadow of that deck-house looking anxiously astern in the hope of -catching a glimpse of her--had she known that since the steamer had left -the English port he had every evening stood with the same object in -the same place, she would have been more hopeful of her simple plan -succeeding. - -At any rate she stole out of her cabin and went up the companion and -out upon the deck, with all the caution that a novice in the art of -dissembling could bring to her aid. - -The night was full of softness--softness of gray reflected light from -the waters that were rippling along before the vessel--softness of air -that seemed saturated with the balm of odorous trees growing upon the -slopes of those Fortunate Islands. The deck was deserted by passengers; -only Major Crawford, the doctor, and the special correspondent were -sitting in a group in their cane chairs, smoking their cheroots and -discussing some action of a certain colonel that had not yet been fully -explained, though it had taken place fifteen years previously. The -group could not see her, she knew; but even if they had espied her and -demanded an explanation, she felt that she had progressed sufficiently -far in the crooked ways of deception to be able to lull their suspicions -by her answers. She could tell them that she had a headache, or put them -off with some equally artful excuse. - -She walked gently along until she was at the rear of the deck-house -where the stock of the mainmast was standing with all its gear. She -looked down the dark tunnel passage between the side of the house and -the bulwarks, but she felt her courage fail her: she dared do all that -might become a woman, but the gloom of that covered place, and the -consciousness that beyond it lay the mysterious fore-cabin space, caused -her to pause. What was she to do? - -Suddenly there came the sound of a low voice at her ear. - -“Daireen, Daireen, why did you come here?” She started and looked around -trembling, for it was the voice of Standish, though she could not see -the form of the speaker. It was some moments before she found that he -was under the broad rail leading to the ship's bridge. - -“Then it is you, Standish, indeed?” she said. “How on earth did you come -aboard?--Why have you come?--Are you really a sailor?--Where is your -father?--Does he know?--Why don't you shake hands with me, Standish?” - -These few questions she put to him in a breath, looking between the -steps of the rail. - -“Daireen, hush, for Heaven's sake!” he said anxiously. “You don't know -what you are doing in coming to speak with me here--I am only a sailor, -and if you were seen near me it would be terrible. Do go back to your -cabin and leave me to my wretchedness.” - -“I shall not go back,” she said resolutely. “I am your friend, Standish, -and why should I not speak to you for an hour if I wish? You are not the -quartermaster at the wheel. What a start you gave me this morning! Why -did you not tell me you were coming in this steamer?” - -“I did not leave Suangorm until the next morning after I heard you had -gone,” he answered in a whisper. “I should have died--I should indeed, -Daireen, if I had remained at home while you were gone away without any -one to take care of you.” - -“Oh, Standish, Standish, what will your father say?--What will he -think?” - -“I don't care,” said Standish. “I told him on that day when we returned -from Suanmara that I would go away. I was a fool that I did not make up -my mind long ago. It was, indeed, only when you left that I carried -out my resolution. I learned what ship you were going in; I had as much -money as brought me to England--I had heard of people working their -passage abroad; so I found out the captain of the steamer, and telling -him all about myself that I could--not of course breathing your name, -Daireen--I begged him to allow me to work my way as a sailor, and he -agreed to give me the passage. He wanted me to become a waiter in the -cabin, but I couldn't do that; I didn't mind facing all the hardships -that might come, so long as I was near you--and--able to get your -father's advice. Now do go back, Daireen.” - -“No one will see us,” said the girl, after a pause, in which she -reflected on the story he had told her. “But all is so strange, -Standish,” she continued--“all is so unlike anything I ever imagined -possible. Oh, Standish, it is too dreadful to think of your being a -sailor--just a sailor--aboard the ship.” - -“There's nothing so very bad in it,” he replied. “I can work, thank God; -and I mean to work. The thought of being near you--that is, near the -time when I can get the advice I want from your father--makes all my -labour seem light.” - -“But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, let you become a -passenger,” said the girl suddenly. “Do let me ask him, Standish. It is -so--so hard for you to have to work as a sailor.” - -“It is no harder than I expected it would be,” he said; “I am not afraid -to work hard: and I feel that I am doing something--I feel it. I should -be more wretched in the cabin. Now do not think of speaking to me for -the rest of the voyage, Daireen; only, do not forget that you have a -friend aboard the ship--a friend who will be willing to die for you.” - -His voice was very tremulous, and she could see his tearful eyes -glistening in the gray light as he put out one of his hands to her. -She put her own hand into it and felt his strong earnest grasp as he -whispered, “God bless you, Daireen! God bless you!” - -“Make it six bells, quartermaster,” came the voice of the officer on -watch from the bridge. In fear and trembling Daireen waited until the -man came aft and gave the six strokes upon the ship's bell that hung -quite near where she was standing--Standish thinking it prudent to -remain close in the shade of the rail. The quartermaster saw her, but -did not, of course, conceive it to be within the range of his duties -to give any thought to the circumstance of a passenger being on deck at -that hour. When the girl turned round after the bell had been struck, -she found that Standish had disappeared. All she could do was to hasten -back to her cabin with as much caution as it was possible for her to -preserve, for she could still hear the hoarse tones of the major's voice -coming from the centre of the group far astern, who were regaled with a -very pointed chronicle of a certain station in the empire of Hindustan. - -Daireen reached her cabin and sat once more upon her sofa, breathing a -sigh of relief, for she had never in her life had such a call upon her -courage as this to which she had just responded. - -Her face was flushed and hot, and her hands were trembling, so she threw -open the pane of the cabin port-hole and let the soft breeze enter. -It moved about her hair as she stood there, and she seemed to feel the -fingers of a dear friend caressing her forehead. Then she sat down once -more and thought over all that had happened since the morning when she -had gone on deck to see that gray cloud-land brighten into the lovely -green slope of Madeira. - -She thought of all that Standish had told her about himself, and she -felt her heart overflowing, as were her eyes, with sympathy for him who -had cast aside his old life and was endeavouring to enter upon the new. - -As she sat there in her dreaming mood all the days of the past came back -to her, with a clearness she had never before known. All the pleasant -hours returned to her with even a more intense happiness than she had -felt at first. For out of the distance of these Fortunate Islands the -ghosts of the blessed departed hours came and moved before her, looking -into her face with their own sweet pale faces; thus she passed from a -waking dream into a dream of sleep as she lay upon her sofa, and the -ghost shapes continued to float before her. The fatigue of the day, the -darkness of the cabin, and the monotonous washing of the ripples against -the side of the ship, had brought on her sleep before she had got into -her berth. - -With a sudden start she awoke and sprang to her feet in instantaneous -consciousness, for the monotony of the washing waves was broken by a -sound that was strange and startling to her ears--the sound of something -hard tapping at irregular intervals upon the side of the ship just at -her ear. - -She ran over to the cabin port and looked out fearfully--looked out and -gave a cry of terror, for beneath her--out from those gray waters there -glanced up to her in speechless agony the white face of a man; she -saw it but for a moment, then it seemed to be swept away from her and -swallowed up in the darkness of the deep waters. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - ... Rashly, - - And praised be rashness for it.... - - Up from my cabin, - - My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark - - Groped I to find out them... making so bold, - - My fears forgetting manners. - - Give me leave: here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good. - - Let us know - - Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well - - ... and that should learn us - - There's a divinity that shapes our ends - - Rough-hew them how we will.--_Hamlet._ - - -|A SINGLE cry of terror was all that Daireen uttered as she fell back -upon her berth. An instant more and she was standing with white lips, -and hands that were untrembling as the rigid hand of a dead person. -She knew what was to be done as plainly as if she saw everything in a -picture. She rushed into the saloon and mounted the companion to the -deck. There sat the little group astern just as she had seen them an -hour before, only that the doctor had fallen asleep under the influence -of one of the less pointed of the major's stories. - -“God bless my soul!” cried the major, as the girl clutched the back of -his chair. - -“Good heavens, Miss Gerald, what is the matter?” said Harwood, leaping -to his feet. - -She pointed to the white wake of the ship. - -“There--there,” she whispered--“a man--drowning--clinging to -something--a wreck--I saw him!” - -“Dear me! dear me!” said the major, in a tone of relief, and with a -breath of a smile. - -But the special correspondent had looked into the girl's face. It was -his business to understand the difference between dreaming and waking. -He was by the side of the officer on watch in a moment. A few words were -enough to startle the officer into acquiescence with the demands of the -“special.” The unwonted sound of the engine-room telegraph was heard, -its tinkle shaking the slumbers of the chief engineer as effectively as -if it had been the thunder of an alarum peal. - -The stopping of the engine, the blowing off of the steam, and the -arrival of the captain upon the deck, were simultaneous occurrences. The -officer's reply to his chief as he hurried aft did not seem to be very -satisfactory, judging from the manner in which it was received. - -But Harwood had left the officer to explain the stoppage of the vessel, -and was now kneeling by the side of the chair, back upon which lay -the unconscious form of Daireen, while the doctor was forcing some -brandy--all that remained in the major's tumbler--between her lips, and -a young sailor--the one who had been at the rail in the morning--chafed -her pallid hand. The major was scanning the expanse of water by aid of -his pilot glass, and the quartermaster who had been steering went to the -line of the patent log to haul it in--his first duty at any time on the -stopping of the vessel, to prevent the line--the strain being taken off -it--fouling with the propeller. - -When the steamer is under weigh it is the work of two sailors to take -in the eighty fathoms of log-line, otherwise, however, the line is of -course quite slack; it was thus rather inexplicable to the quartermaster -to find much more resistance to his first haul than if the vessel were -going full speed ahead. - -“The darned thing's fouled already,” he murmured for his own -satisfaction. He could not take in a fathom, so great was the -resistance. - -“Hang it all, major,” said the captain, “isn't this too bad? Bringing -the ship to like this, and--ah, here they come! All the ship's company -will be aft in a minute.” - -“Rum, my boy, very rum,” muttered the sympathetic major. - -“What's the matter, captain?” said one voice. - -“Is there any danger?” asked a tremulous second. - -“If it's a collision or a leak, don't keep it from us, sir,” came a -stern contralto. For in various stages of toilet incompleteness the -passengers were crowding out of the cabin. - -But before the “unhappy master” could utter a word of reply, the sailor -had touched his cap and reported to the third mate: - -“Log-line fouled on wreck, sir.” - -“By gad!” shouted the major, who was twisting the log-line about, and -peering into the water. “By gad, the girl was right! The line has fouled -on some wreck, and there is a body made fast to it.” - -The captain gave just a single glance in the direction indicated. . - -“Stand by gig davits and lower away,” he shouted to the watch, who had -of course come aft. - -The men ran to where the boat was hanging, and loosened the lines. - -“Oh, Heaven preserve us! they are taking to the boats!” cried a female -passenger. - -“Don't be a fool, my good woman,” said Mrs. Crawford tartly. The major's -wife had come on deck in a most marvellous costume, and she was already -holding a sal-volatile bottle to Daireen's nose, having made a number of -inquiries of Mr. Harwood and the doctor. - -All the other passengers had crowded to the ship's side, and were -watching the men in the boat cutting at something which had been reached -at the end of the log-line. They could see the broken stump of a mast -and the cross-trees, but nothing further. - -“They have got it into the boat,” said the major, giving the result of -his observation through the binocular. - -“For Heaven's sake, ladies, go below!” cried the captain. But no one -moved. - -“If you don't want to see the ghastly corpse of a drowned man gnawed by -fishes for weeks maybe, you had better go down, ladies,” said the chief -officer. Still no one stirred. - -The major, who was an observer of nature, smiled and winked sagaciously -at the exasperated captain before he said: - -“Why should the ladies go down at all? it's a pleasant night, and begad, -sir, a group of nightcaps like this isn't to be got together more -than once in a lifetime.” Before the gallant officer had finished his -sentence the deck was cleared of women; but, of course, the luxury of -seeing a dead body lifted from the boat being too great to be missed, -the starboard cabin ports had many faces opposite them. - -The doctor left Daireen to the care of Mrs. Crawford, saying that she -would recover consciousness in a few minutes, and he hastened with a -kaross to the top of the boiler, where he had shouted to the men in the -boat to carry the body. - -The companion-rail having been lowered, it was an easy matter for the -four men to take the body on deck and to lay it upon the tiger-skin -before the doctor, who rubbed his hands--an expression which the seamen -interpreted as meaning satisfaction. - -“Gently, my men, raise his head--so--throw the light on his face. By -George, he doesn't seem to have suffered from the oysters; there's hope -for him yet.” - -And the compassionate surgeon began cutting the clothing from the limbs -of the body. - -“No, don't take the pieces away,” he said to one of the men; “let them -remain here Now dry his arms carefully, and we'll try and get some air -into his lungs, if they're not already past work.” - -But before the doctor had commenced his operations the ship's gig had -been hauled up once more to the davits, and the steamer was going ahead -at slow speed. - -“Keep her at slow until the dawn,” said the captain to the officer on -watch. “And let there be a good lookout; there may be others floating -upon the wreck. Call me if the doctor brings the body to life.” - -The captain did not think it necessary to view the body that had been -snatched from the deep. The captain was a compassionate man and full of -tender feeling; he was exceedingly glad that he had had it in his power -to pick up that body, even with the small probability there was of being -able to restore life to its frozen blood; but he would have been much -more grateful to Providence had it been so willed that it should have -been picked up without the necessity of stopping the engines of the -steamer for nearly a quarter of an hour. It was explained to him that -Miss Gerald had been the first to see the face of the man upon the -wreck, but he could scarcely understand how it was possible for her to -have seen it from her cabin. He was also puzzled to know how it was that -the log-line had not been carried away so soon as it was entangled in -such a large mass of wreck when the steamer was going at full speed. -He, however, thought it as well to resume his broken slumbers without -waiting to solve either of these puzzling questions. - -But the chief officer who was now on watch, when the deck was once more -deserted--Daireen having been taken down to her cabin--made the attempt -to account for both of these occurrences. He found that the girl's cabin -was not far astern of the companion-rail that had been lowered during -the day, and he saw that, in the confusion of weighing anchor in the -dimness, a large block with its gear which was used in the hauling of -the vegetable baskets aboard, had been allowed to hang down the side of -the ship between the steps of the rail; and upon the hook of the block, -almost touching the water, he found some broken cordage. He knew then -that the hook had caught fast in the cordage of the wreck as the steamer -went past, and the wreck had swung round until it was just opposite the -girl's cabin, when the cordage had given way; not, however, until some -of the motion of the ship had been communicated to the wreck so that -there was no abrupt strain put on the log-line when it had become -entangled. It was all plain to the chief officer, as no doubt it would -have been to the captain had he waited to search out the matter. - -So soon as the body had been brought aboard the ship all the interest of -the passengers seemed to subside, and the doctor was allowed to pursue -his experiments of resuscitation without inquiry. The chief officer -being engaged at his own business of working out the question of the -endurance of the log-line, and keeping a careful lookout for any other -portions of wreck, had almost forgotten that the doctor and two of the -sailors were applying a series of restoratives to the body of the man -who had been detached from the wreck. It was nearly two hours after he -had come on watch that one of the sailors--the one who had been kneeling -by the side of Daireen--came up to the chief officer presenting Doctor -Campion's compliments, with the information that the man was breathing. - -In accordance with the captain's instructions, the chief officer knocked -at the cabin door and repeated the message. - -“Breathing is he?” said the captain rather sleepily. “Very good, Mr. -Holden; I'm glad to hear it. Just call me again in case he should -relapse.” - -The captain had hitherto, in alluding to the man, made use of the neuter -pronoun, but now that breath was restored he acknowledged his right to a -gender. - -“Very good, sir,” replied the officer, closing the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, - - Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, - - Be thy intents wicked or charitable, - - Thou com'st in such a questionable shape. - - What may this mean - - That thou, dead corse, again... - - Revisit'st thus...? - - I hope your virtues - - Will bring him to his wonted way again.--_Hamlet._ - - -|IT was the general opinion in the cabin that Miss Gerald--the young -lady who was in such an exclusive set--had shown very doubtful taste in -being the first to discover the man upon the wreck. Every one had, -of course, heard the particulars of the matter from the steward's -assistants, who had in turn been in communication with the watch on -deck. At any rate, it was felt by the ladies that it showed exceedingly -bad taste in Miss Gerald to take such steps as eventually led to the -ladies appearing on deck in incomplete toilettes. There was, indeed, a -very pronounced feeling against Miss Gerald; several representatives of -the other sections of the cabin society declaring that they could not -conscientiously admit Miss Gerald into their intimacy. That dreadful -designing old woman, the major's wife, might do as she pleased, they -declared, and so might Mrs. Butler and her daughter, who were only the -near relatives of some Colonial Governor, but such precedents should -be by no means followed, the ladies of this section announced to each -other. But as Daireen had never hitherto found it necessary to fall back -upon any of the passengers outside her own set, the resolution of the -others, even if it had come to her ears, would not have caused her any -great despondency. - -The captain made some inquiries of the doctor in the morning, and -learned that the rescued man was breathing, though still unconscious. -Mr. Harwood showed even a greater anxiety to hear from Mrs. Crawford -about Daireen, after the terrible night she had gone through, and he -felt no doubt proportionately happy when he was told that she was now -sleeping, having passed some hours in feverish excitement. Daireen had -described to Mrs. Crawford how she had seen the face looking up to her -from the water, and Mr. Harwood, hearing this, and making a careful -examination of the outside of the ship in the neighbourhood of Daireen's -cabin, came to the same conclusion as that at which the chief officer -had arrived. - -Mrs. Crawford tried to make Mr. Glaston equally interested in her -protégée, but she was scarcely successful. - -“How brave it was in the dear child, was it not, Mr. Glaston?” she -asked. “Just imagine her glancing casually out of the port--thinking, it -maybe, of her father, who is perhaps dying at the Cape”--the good -lady felt that this bit of poetical pathos might work wonders with Mr. -Glaston--“and then,” she continued, “fancy her seeing that terrible, -ghastly thing in the water beneath her! What must her feelings have been -as she rushed on deck and gave the alarm that caused that poor wretch to -be saved! Wonderful, is it not?” - -But Mr. Glaston's face was quite devoid of expression on hearing this -powerful narrative. The introduction of the pathos even did not make him -wince; and there was a considerable pause before he said the few words -that he did. - -“Poor child,” he murmured. “Poor child. It was very -melodramatic--terribly melodramatic; but she is still young, her taste -is--ah--plastic. At least I hope so.” - -Mrs. Crawford began to feel that, after all, it was something to have -gained this expression of hope from Mr. Glaston, though her warmth of -feeling did undoubtedly receive a chill from his manner. She did not -reflect that there is a certain etiquette to be observed in the saving -of the bodies as well as the souls of people, and that the aesthetic -element, in the opinion of some people, should enter largely into every -scheme of salvation, corporeal as well as spiritual. - -The doctor was sitting with Major Crawford when the lady joined them a -few minutes after her conversation with Mr. Glaston, and never had Mrs. -Crawford fancied that her husband's old friend could talk in such an -affectionate way as he now did about the rescued man. She could almost -bring herself to believe that she saw the tears of emotion in his eyes -as he detailed the circumstances of the man's resuscitation. The doctor -felt personally obliged to him for his handsome behaviour in bearing -such testimony to the skill of his resuscitator. - -When the lady spoke of the possibilities of a relapse, the doctor's -eyes glistened at first, but under the influence of maturer thought, -he sighed and shook his head. No, he knew that there are limits to the -generosity of even a half-strangled man--a relapse was too much to hope -for; but the doctor felt at that instant that if this “case” should -see its way to a relapse, and subsequently to submit to be restored, it -would place itself under a lasting obligation to its physician. - -Surely, thought Mrs. Crawford, when the doctor talks of the stranger -with such enthusiasm he will go into raptures about Daireen; so she -quietly alluded to the girl's achievement. But the doctor could see no -reason for becoming ecstatic about Miss Gerald. Five minutes with the -smelling-bottle had restored her to consciousness. - -“Quite a trifle--overstrung nerves, you know,” he said, as he lit -another cheroot. - -“But think of her bravery in keeping strong until she had told you all -that she had seen!” said the lady. “I never heard of anything so -brave! Just fancy her looking out of the port--thinking of her father -perhaps”--the lady went on to the end of that pathetic sentence of hers, -but it had no effect upon the doctor. - -“True, very true!” he muttered, looking at his watch. - -But the major was secretly convulsed for some moments after his wife had -spoken her choice piece of pathos, and though he did not betray himself, -she knew well all that was in his mind, and so turned away without a -further word. So soon as she was out of hearing, the major exchanged -confidential chuckles with his old comrade. - -“He is not what you'd call a handsome man as he lies at present, -Campion,” remarked Mr. Harwood, strolling up later in the day. “But you -did well not to send him to the forecastle, I think; he has not been a -sailor.” - -“I know it, my boy,” said the doctor. “He is not a handsome man, you -say, and I agree with you that he is not seen to advantage just now; -but I made up my mind an hour after I saw him that he was not for the -forecastle, or even the forecabin.” - -“I dare say you are right,” said Harwood. “Yes; there is a something in -his look that half drowning could not kill. That was the sort of thing -you felt, eh?” - -“Nothing like it,” said the mild physician. “It was this,” he took out -of his pocket an envelope, from which he extracted a document that he -handed to Harwood. - -It was an order for four hundred pounds, payable by a certain bank in -England, and granted by the Sydney branch of the Australasian Banking -Company to one Mr. Oswin Markham. - -“Ah, I see; he is a gentleman,” said Harwood, returning the order. It -had evidently suffered a sea-change, but it had been carefully dried by -the doctor. - -“Yes, he is a gentleman,” said the doctor. “That is what I remarked when -I found this in a flask in one of his pockets. Sharp thing to do, -to keep a paper free from damp and yet to have it in a buoyant case. -Devilish sharp thing!” - -“And the man's name is this--Oswin Markham?” said the major. - -“No doubt about it,” said the doctor. - -“None whatever; unless he stole the order from the rightful owner, and -meant to get it cashed at his leisure,” remarked Harwood. - -“Then he must have stolen the shirt, the collar, and the socks of Oswin -Markham,” snarled the doctor. “All these things of his are marked as -plain as red silk can do it.” - -“Any man who would steal an order for four hundred pounds would not -hesitate about a few toilet necessaries.” - -“Maybe you'll suggest to the skipper the need to put him in irons as -soon as he is sufficiently recovered to be conscious of an insult,” - cried the doctor in an acrid way that received a sympathetic chuckle -from the major. “Young man, you've got your brain too full of fancies--a -devilish deal, sir; they do well enough retailed for the readers of the -_Dominant Trumpeter_, but sensible people don't want to hear them.” - -“Then I won't force them upon you and Crawford, my dear Campion,” said -Harwood, walking away, for he knew that upon some occasions the doctor -should be conciliated, and in the matter of a patient every allowance -should be made for his warmth of feeling. So long as one of his “cases” - paid his skill the compliment of surviving any danger, he spoke well of -the patient; but when one behaved so unhandsomely as to die, it was with -the doctor _De mortuis nil nisi malum_. Harwood knew this, and so he -walked away. - -And now that he found himself--or rather made himself--alone, he thought -over all the events of the previous eventful day; but somehow there did -not seem to be any event worth remembering that was not associated with -Daireen Gerald. He recollected how he had watched her when they had been -together among the lovely gardens of the island slope. As she turned her -eyes seaward with an earnest, sad, _questioning_ gaze, he felt that he -had never seen a picture so full of beauty. - -The words he had spoken to her, telling her that the day he had spent on -the island was the happiest of his life, were true indeed; he had -never felt so happy; and now as he reflected upon his after-words his -conscience smote him for having pretended to her that he was thinking of -the place where he knew her thoughts had carried her: he had seen from -her face that she was dreaming about her Irish home, and he had made her -feel that the recollection of the lough and the mountains was upon his -mind also. He felt now how coarse had been his deception. - -He then recalled the final scene of the night, when, as he was trying -to pursue his own course of thought, and at the same time pretend to be -listening to the major's thrice-told tale of a certain colonel's conduct -at the Arradambad station, the girl had appeared before them like a -vision. Yes, it was altogether a remarkable day even for a special -correspondent. The reflection upon its events made him very thoughtful -during the entire of this afternoon. Nor was he at all disturbed by the -information Doctor Campion brought vo him just when he was going for his -usual smoke upon the bridge, while the shore of Palma was yet in view -not far astern. - -“Good fellow he is,” murmured the doctor. “Capital fellow! opened his -eyes just now when I was in his cabin--recovered consciousness in a -moment.” - -“Ah, in a moment?” said Harwood dubiously. “I thought it always needed -the existence of some link of consciousness between the past and -the present to bring about a restoration like this--some familiar -sight--some well-known sound.” - -“And, by George, you are right, my boy, this time, though you are a -'special,'” said the doctor, grinning. “Yes, I was standing by the -fellow's bunk when I heard Crawford call for another bottle of soda. -Robinson got it for him, and bang went the cork, of course; a faint -smile stole over the haggard features, my boy, the glassy eyes opened -full of intelligence and with a mine of pleasant recollections. That -familiar sound of the popping of the cork acted as the link you talk of. -He saw all in a moment, and tried to put out his hand to me. 'My boy,' -I said, 'you've behaved most handsomely, and I'll get you a glass of -brandy out of another bottle, but don't you try to speak for another -day.' And I got him a glass from Crawford, though, by George, sir, -Crawford grudged it; he didn't see the sentiment of the thing, sir, and -when I tried to explain it, he said I was welcome to the cork.” - -“Capital tale for an advertisement of the brandy,” said Harwood. - -Then the doctor with many smiles hastened to spread abroad the story -of the considerate behaviour of his patient, and Harwood was left to -continue his twilight meditations alone once more. He was sitting in -his deck-chair on the ship's bridge, and he could but dimly hear the -laughter and the chat of the passengers far astern. He did not remain -for long in this dreamy mood of his, for Mrs. Crawford and Daireen -Gerald were seen coming up the rail, and he hastened to meet them. The -girl was very pale but smiling, and in the soft twilight she seemed very -lovely. - -“I am so glad to see you,” he said, as he settled a chair for her. “I -feared a great many things when you did not appear to-day.” - -“We must not talk too much,” said Mrs. Crawford, who had not expected to -find Mr. Harwood alone in this place. “I brought Miss Gerard up here in -order that she might not be subjected to the gaze of those colonists -on the deck; a little quiet is what she needs to restore her completely -from her shock.” - -“It was very foolish, I am afraid you think--very foolish of me to -behave as I did,” said Daireen, with a faint little smile. “But I had -been asleep in my cabin, and I--I was not so strong as I should have -been. The next time I hope I shall not be so very stupid.” - -“My dear Miss Gerald,” said Harwood, “you behaved as a heroine. There -is no woman aboard the ship--Mrs. Crawford of course excepted--who would -have had courage to do what you did.” - -“And he,” said the girl somewhat eagerly--“he--is he really safe?--has -he recovered? Tell me all, Mr. Harwood.” - -“No, no!” cried Mrs. Crawford, interposing. “You must not speak a word -about him. Do you want to be thrown into a fresh state of excitement, my -dear, now that you are getting on so nicely?” - -“But I am more excited remaining as I am in doubt about that poor man. -Was he a sailor, Mr. Harwood?” - -“It appears-not,” said Harwood. “The doctor, however, is returning; he -will tell all that is safe to be told.” - -“I really must protest,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Well, I will be a good -girl and not ask for any information whatever,” said Daireen. - -But she was not destined to remain in complete ignorance on the subject -which might reasonably be expected to interest her, for the doctor on -seeing her hastened up, and, of course, Mrs. Crawford's protest was weak -against his judgment. - -“My dear young lady,” he cried, shaking Daireen warmly by the hand. “You -are anxious to know the sequel of the romance of last night, I am sure?” - -“No, no, Doctor Campion,” said Daireen almost mischievously; “Mrs. -Crawford says I must hear nothing, and think about nothing, all this -evening. Did you not say so, Mrs. Crawford?” - -“My dear child, Doctor Campion is supposed to know much better than -myself how you should be treated in your present nervous condition. -If he chooses to talk to you for an hour or two hours about drowning -wretches, he may do so on his own responsibility.” - -“Drowning wretches!” said the doctor. “My dear madam, you have not been -told all, or you would not talk in this way. He is no drowning wretch, -but a gentleman; look at this--ah, I forgot it's not light enough for -you to see the document, but Harwood there will tell you all that it -contains.” - -“And what does that wonderful document contain, Mr. Harwood?” asked Mrs. -Crawford. “Tell us, please, and we shall drop the subject.” - -“That document,” said Harwood, with affected solemnity; “it is a -guarantee of the respectability of the possessor; it is a bank order -for four hundred pounds, payable to one Oswin Markham, and it was, -I understand, found upon the person of the man who has just been -resuscitated through the skill of our good friend Doctor Campion.” - -“Now you will not call him a poor wretch, I am sure,” said the doctor. -“He has now fully recovered consciousness, and, you see, he is a -gentleman.” - -“You see that, no doubt, Mrs. Crawford,” said Harwood, in a tone that -made the good physician long to have him for a few weeks on the sick -list--the way the doctor had of paying off old scores. - -“Don't be sarcastic, Mr. Harwood,” said Daireen. Then she added, “What -did you say the name was?--Oswin Markham? I like it--I like it very -much.” - -“Hush,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Here is Mr. Glaston.” And it was indeed Mr. -Glaston who ascended the rail with a languor of motion in keeping with -the hour of twilight. With a few muttered words the doctor walked away. - -“I hear,” said Mr. Glaston, after he had shaken hands with Daireen--“I -hear that there was some wreck or other picked up last night with a man -clinging to it--a dreadfully vulgar fellow he must be to carry about -with him a lot of money--a man with a name like what one would find -attached to the hero of an East End melodrama.” - -There was a rather lengthened silence in that little group before -Harwood spoke. - -“Yes,” he said; “it struck me that it showed very questionable taste in -the man to go about flaunting his money in the face of every one he met. -As for his name--well, perhaps we had better not say anything about his -name. You recollect what Tennyson makes Sir Tristram say to his Isolt--I -don't mean you, Glaston, I know you only read the pre-Raphaelites-- - -“Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.” - -But no one seemed to remember the quotation, or, at any rate, to see the -happiness of its present application. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - It beckons you to go away with it, - - As if it some impartment did desire - - To you alone. - - ... Weigh what loss - - If with too credent ear you list his songs - - Or lose your heart... - - Fear it, Ophelia, fear it.--_Hamlet._ - - -|IT could hardly be expected that there should be in the mind of Daireen -Gerald a total absence of interest in the man who by her aid had been -rescued from the deep. To be sure, her friend Mrs. Crawford had given -her to understand that people of taste might pronounce the episode -melodramatic, and as this word sounded very terrible to Daireen, as, -indeed, it did to Mrs. Crawford herself, whose apprehension of its -meaning was about as vague as the girl's, she never betrayed the anxiety -she felt for the recovery of this man, who was, she thought, equally -accountable for the dubious taste displayed in the circumstances of -his rescue. She began to feel, as Mr. Glaston in his delicacy carefully -refrained from alluding to this night of terror, and as Mrs. Crawford -assumed a solemn expression of countenance upon the least reference -to the girl's participation in the recovery of the man with the -melodramatic name, that there was a certain bond of sympathy between -herself and this Oswin Markham; and now and again when she found the -doctor alone, she ventured to make some inquiries regarding him. In the -course of a few days she learned a good deal. - -“He is behaving handsomely--most handsomely, my dear,” said the doctor, -one afternoon about a week after the occurrence. “He eats everything -that is given to him and drinks in a like proportion.” - -The girl felt that this was truly noble on the part of the man, but it -was scarcely the exact type of information she would have liked. - -“And he--is he able to speak yet?” she asked. - -“Speak? yes, to be sure. He asked me how he came to be picked up, and -I told him,” continued the doctor, with a smile of gallantry of which -Daireen did not believe him capable, “that he was seen by the most -charming young lady in the world,--yes, yes, I told him that, though -I ran a chance of retarding his recovery by doing so.” This was, of -course, quite delightful to hear, but Daireen wanted to know even more -about the stranger than the doctor's speech had conveyed to her. - -“The poor fellow was a long time in the water, I suppose?” she said -artfully, trying to find out all that the doctor had learned. - -“He was four days upon that piece of wreck,” said the doctor. - -The girl gave a start that seemed very like a shudder, as she repeated -the words, “Four days.” - -“Yes; he was on his way home from Australia, where he had been -living for some years, and the vessel he was in was commanded by some -incompetent and drunken idiot who allowed it to be struck by a tornado -of no extraordinary violence, and to founder in mid-ocean. As our friend -was a passenger, he says, the crew did not think it necessary to invite -him to have a seat in one of the boats, a fact that accounts for his -being alive to-day, for both boats were swamped and every soul sent to -the bottom in his view. He tells me he managed to lash a broken topmast -to the stump of the mainmast that had gone by the board, and to cut the -rigging so that he was left drifting when the hull went down. That's all -the story, my dear, only we know what a hard time of it he must have had -during the four days.” - -“A hard time--a hard time,” Daireen repeated musingly, and without a -further word she turned away. - -Mr. Glaston, who had been pleased to take a merciful view of her recent -action of so pronounced a type, found that his gracious attempts to -reform her plastic taste did not, during this evening, meet with that -appreciation of which they were undoubtedly deserving. Had he been aware -that all the time his eloquent speech was flowing on the subject of -the consciousness of hues--a theme attractive on account of its -delicacy--the girl had before her eyes only a vision of heavy blue skies -overhanging dark green seas terrible in loneliness--the monotony of -endless waves broken only by the appearance in the centre of the waste -of a broken mast and a ghastly face and clinging lean hands upon it, -he would probably have withdrawn the concession he had made to Mrs. -Crawford regarding the taste of her protégée. - -And indeed, Daireen was not during any of these days thinking about much -besides this Oswin Markham, though she never mentioned his name even -to the doctor. At nights when she would look out over the flashing -phosphorescent waters, she would evermore seem to see that white face -looking up at her; but now she neither started nor shuddered as she was -used to do for a few nights after she had seen the real face there. It -seemed to her now as a face that she knew--the face of a friend looking -into her face from the dim uncertain surface of the sea of a dream. - -One morning a few days after her most interesting chat with Doctor -Campion, she got up even earlier than usual--before, in fact, the -healthy pedestrian gentleman had completed his first mile, and went on -deck. She had, however, just stepped out of the companion when she heard -voices and a laugh or two coming from the stern. She glanced in the -direction of the sounds and remained motionless at the cabin door. -A group consisting of the major, the doctor, and the captain of the -steamer were standing in the neighbourhood of the wheel; but upon a -deck-chair, amongst a heap of cushions, a stranger was lying back--a -man with a thin brown face and large, somewhat sunken eyes, and a short -brown beard and moustache; he was holding a cigar in the fingers of -his left hand that drooped over the arm of the chair--a long, white -hand--and he was looking up to the face of the major, who was telling -one of his usual stories with his accustomed power. None of the other -passengers were on deck, with the exception of the pedestrian, who came -into view every few minutes as he reached the after part of the ship. - -She stood there at the door of the companion without any motion, looking -at that haggard face of the stranger. She saw a faint smile light up his -deep eyes and pass over his features as the major brought out the full -piquancy of his little anecdote, which was certainly not _virginibus -puerisque_. Then she turned and went down again to her cabin without -seeing how a young sailor was standing gazing at her from the passage -of the ship's bridge. She sat down in her cabin and waited until the -ringing of the second bell for breakfast. - -“You are getting dreadfully lazy, my dear,” said Mrs. Crawford, as she -took her seat by the girl's side. “Why were you not up as usual to get -an appetite for breakfast?” Then without waiting for an answer, she -whispered, “Do you see the stranger at the other side of the table? That -is our friend Mr. Oswin Markham; his name does not sound so queer when -you come to know him. The doctor was right, Daireen: he is a gentleman.” - -“Then you have----” - -“Yes, I have made his acquaintance this morning already. I hope Mr. -Glaston may not think that it was my fault.” - -“Mr. Glaston?” said Daireen. . - -“Yes; you know he is so sensitive in matters like this; he might -fancy that it would be better to leave this stranger by himself; but -considering that he will be parting from the ship in a week, I don't -think I was wrong to let my husband present me. At any rate he is a -gentleman--that is one satisfaction.” - -Daireen felt that there was every reason to be glad that she was not -placed in the unhappy position of having taken steps for the rescue of a -person not accustomed to mix in good society. But she did not even once -glance down towards the man whose standing had been by a competent judge -pronounced satisfactory. She herself talked so little, however, that she -could hear him speak in answer to the questions some good-natured people -at the bottom of the table put to him, regarding the name of his ship -and the circumstances of the catastrophe that had come upon it. She also -heard the young lady who had the peculiar fancy for blue and pink beg of -him to do her the favour of writing his name in her birthday book. - -During the hours that elapsed before tiffin Daireen sat with a novel in -her hand, and she knew that the stranger was on the ship's bridge with -Major Crawford. The major found his company exceedingly agreeable, for -the old officer had unfortunately been prodigal of his stories through -the first week of the voyage, and lately he had been reminded that he -was repeating himself when he had begun a really choice anecdote. This -Mr. Markham, however, had never been in India, so that the major found -in him an appreciative audience, and for the satisfactory narration of -a chronicle of Hindustan an appreciative audience is an important -consideration. The major, however, appeared alone at tiffin, for Mr. -Markham, he said, preferred lying in the sun on the bridge to eating -salad in the cabin. The young lady with the birthday book seemed a -little disappointed, for she had just taken the bold step of adding to -her personal decorations a large artificial moss-rose with glass beads -sewed all about it in marvellous similitude to early dew, and it would -not bear being trifled with in the matter of detaching from her dress. - -Whether or not Mrs. Crawford had conferred with Mr. Glaston on the -subject of the isolation of Mr. Markham, Daireen, on coming to sit down -to the dinner-table, found Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Markham standing in -the saloon just at the entrance to her cabin. She could feel herself -flushing as she looked up to the man's haggard face while Mrs. Crawford -pronounced their names, and she knew that the hand she put in his thin -fingers was trembling. Neither spoke a single word: they only looked at -each other. Then the doctor came forward with some remark that Daireen -did not seem to hear, and soon the table was surrounded with the -passengers. - -“He says he feels nearly as strong as he ever did,” whispered Mrs. -Crawford to the girl as they sat down together. “He will be able to -leave us at St. Helena next week without doubt.” - -On the same evening Daireen was sitting in her usual place far astern. -The sun had set some time, and the latitude being only a few degrees -south of the equator, the darkness had already almost come down upon -the waters. It was dimmer than twilight, but not the solid darkness of -a tropical night. The groups of passengers had all dispersed or gone -forward, and the only sounds were the whisperings of the water in the -wake of the steamer, and the splashing of the flying fish. - -Suddenly from the cabin there came the music of the piano, and a low -voice singing to its accompaniment--so faint it came that Daireen knew -no one on deck except herself could hear the voice, for she was sitting -just beside the open fanlight of the saloon; but she heard every word -that was sung: - - -I. - - - When the vesper gold has waned: - - When the passion-hues of eve - - Breathe themselves away and leave - - Blue the heaven their crimson stained, - - But one hour the world doth grieve, - - For the shadowy skies receive - - Stars so gracious-sweet that they - - Make night more beloved than day. - - -II - - - From my life the light has waned: - - Every golden gleam that shone - - Through the dimness now las gone. - - Of all joys has one remained? - - Stays one gladness I have known? - - Day is past; I stand, alone, - - Here beneath these darkened skies, - - Asking--“Doth a star arise?" - - -|IT ended so faintly that Daireen Gerald could not tell when the last -note had come. She felt that she was in a dream and the sounds she had -heard were but a part of her dream--sounds? were these sounds, or -merely the effect of breathing the lovely shadowy light that swathed the -waters? The sounds seemed to her the twilight expressed in music. - -Then in the silence she heard a voice speaking her name. She turned and -saw Oswin Markham standing beside her. - -“Miss Gerald,” he said, “I owe my life to you. I thank you for it.” - -He could hardly have expressed himself more simply if he had been -thanking her for passing him a fig at dinner, and yet his words thrilled -her. - -“No, no; do not say that,” she said, in a startled voice. “I did -nothing--nothing that any one else might not have done. Oh, do not talk -of it, please.” - -“I will not,” he said slowly, after a pause. “I will never talk of -it again. I was a fool to speak of it to you. I know now that you -understand--that there is no need for me to open my lips to you.” - -“I do indeed,” she said, turning her eyes upon his face. “I do -understand.” She put out her hand, and he took it in his own--not -fervently, not with the least expression of emotion, his fingers closed -over it. A long time passed before she saw his face in front of her own, -and felt his eyes looking into her eyes as his words came in a whisper, -“Child--child, there is a bond between us--a bond whose token is -silence.” - -She kept her eyes fixed upon his as he spoke, and long after his words -had come. She knew he had spoken the truth: there was a bond between -them. She understood it. - -She saw the gaunt face with its large eyes close to her own; her -own eyes filled with tears, and then came the first token of their -bond--silence. She felt his grasp unloosed, she heard him moving away, -and she knew that she was alone in the silence. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - Give him heedful note; - - For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, - - And after we will both our judgments join. - - Thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no -matter. - - You must needs have heard, how I am punish'd - - With sore distraction. What I have done - - I here proclaim was madness.--_Hamlet._ - - -|IT was very generally thought that it was a fortunate circumstance -for Mr. Oswin Markham that there chanced to be in the fore-cabin of -the steamer an enterprising American speculator who was taking out -some hundred dozens of ready-made garments for disposal to the diamond -miners--and an equal quantity of less durable clothing, in which he had -been induced to invest some money with a view to the ultimate adoption -of clothing by the Kafir nation. He explained how he had secured the -services of a hard-working missionary whom he had sent as agent in -advance to endeavour to convince the natives that if they ever wished -to gain a footing among great nations, the auxiliary of clothing towards -the effecting of their object was worth taking into consideration. When -the market for these garments would thus be created, the speculator -hoped to arrive on the scene and make a tolerable sum of money. In rear -of his missionary, he had scoured most of the islands of the Pacific -with very satisfactory results; and he said he felt that, if he could -but prevail upon his missionary in advance to keep steady, a large work -of evangelisation could be done in South Africa. - -By the aid of this enterprising person, Mr. Markham was able to clothe -himself without borrowing from any of the passengers. But about the -payment for his purchases there seemed likely to be some difficulty. The -bank order for four hundred pounds was once again in the possession of -Mr. Markham, but it was payable in England, and how then could he effect -the transfer of the few pounds he owed the American speculator, when he -was to leave the vessel at St. Helena? There was no agency of the bank -at this island, though there was one at the Cape, and thus the question -of payment became somewhat difficult to solve. - -“Do you want to leave the craft at St. Helena, mister?” asked the -American, stroking his chin thoughtfully. - -“I do,” said Mr. Markham. “I must leave at the island and take the first -ship to England.” - -“It's the awkwardest place on God's footstool, this St. Helena, isn't -it?” said the American. - -“I don't see that it is; why do you say so?” - -“Only that I don't see why you want so partickler to land thar, mister. -Maybe you'll change yer mind, eh?” - -“I have said that I must part from this ship there,” exclaimed Mr. -Markham almost impatiently. “I must get this order reduced to money -somehow.” - -“Wal, I reckon that's about the point, mister.” said the speculator. -“But you see if you want to fly it as you say, you'll not breeze about -that it's needful for you to cut the craft before you come to the Cape. -I'd half a mind to try and trade with you for that bit of paper ten -minutes ago, but I reckon that's not what's the matter with me now. No, -_sir_; if you want to get rid of that paper without much trouble, just -you give out that you don't care if you do go on to the Cape; maybe a -nibble will come from that.” - -“I don't know what you mean, my good fellow,” said Markham; “but I can -only repeat that I will not go on to the Cape. I shall get the money -somehow and pay you before I leave, for surely the order is as good as -money to any one living in the midst of civilisation. I don't suppose a -savage would understand it, but I can't see what objection any one in -business could make to receiving it at its full value.” - -The American screwed up his mouth in a peculiar fashion, and smiled in -a still more peculiar fashion. He rather fancied he had a small piece -of tobacco in his waistcoat pocket, nor did the result of a search show -that he was mistaken; he extracted the succulent morsel and put it into -his mouth. Then he winked at Mr. Markham, put his hands in his pockets, -and walked slowly away without a word. - -Markham looked after him with a puzzled expression. He did not know -what the man meant to convey by his nods and his becks and his wreathed -smiles. But just at this moment Mr. Harwood came up; he had of course -previously made the acquaintance of Markham. - -“I suppose we shall soon be losing you?” said Harwood, offering him a -cigar. “You said, I think, that you would be leaving us at St. Helena?” - -“Yes, I leave at St. Helena, and we shall be there in a few days. You -see, I am now nearly as strong as ever, thanks to Campion, and it is -important for me to get to England at once.” - -“No doubt,” said Harwood; “your relatives will be very anxious if they -hear of the loss of the vessel you were in.” - -Markham gave a little laugh, as he said, “I have no relatives; and as -for friends--well, I suppose I shall have a number now.” - -“Now?” - -“Yes; the fact is I was on my way home from Australia to take up a -certain property which my father left to me in England. He died six -months ago, and the solicitors for the estate sent me out a considerable -sum of money in case I should need it in Australia--this order for four -hundred pounds is what remains of it.” - -“I can now easily understand your desire to be at home and settled -down,” said Harwood. - -“I don't mean to settle down,” replied Markham. “There are a good many -places to be seen in the world, small as it is.” - -“A man who has knocked about in the Colonies is generally glad to settle -down at home,” remarked Harwood. - -“No doubt that is the rule, but I fear I am all awry so far as rules -are concerned. I haven't allowed my life to be subject to many rules, -hitherto. Would to God I had! It is not a pleasant recollection for a -son to go through life with, Harwood, that his father has died without -becoming reconciled to him--especially when he knows that his father has -died leaving him a couple of thousands a year.” - -“And you----” - -“I am such a son,” said Markham, turning round suddenly. “I did all that -I could to make my father's life miserable till--a climax came, and I -found myself in Australia three years ago with an allowance sufficient -to keep me from ever being in want. But I forget, I'm not a modern -Ancient Mariner, wandering about boring people with my sad story.” - -“No,” said Harwood, “you are not, I should hope. Nor am I so pressed for -time just now as the wedding guest. You did not go in for a sheep-run in -Australia?” - -“Nothing of the sort,” laughed the other. “The only thing I went in for -was getting through my allowance, until that letter came that sobered -me--that letter telling me that my father was dead, and that every penny -he had possessed was mine. Harwood, you have heard of people's hair -turning white in a few hours, but you have not often heard of natures -changing from black to white in a short space; believe me it was so with -me. The idea that theologians used to have long ago about souls passing -from earth to heaven in a moment might well be believed by me, knowing -as I do how my soul was transformed by that letter. I cast my old life -behind me, though I did not tell any one about me what had happened. I -left my companions and said to them that I was going up country. I did -go up country, but I returned in a few days and got aboard the first -ship that was sailing for England, and--here I am.” - -“And you mean to renew your life of wandering when you reach England?” - said Harwood, after a pause. - -“It is all that there is left for me,” said the man bitterly, though a -change in his tone would have made his words seem very pitiful. “I am -not such a fool as to fancy that a man can sow tares and reap wheat. The -spring of my life is over, and also the summer, the seed-time and the -ripening; shall the harvest be delayed then? No, I am not such a fool.” - -“I cannot see that you might not rest at home,” said Harwood. “Surely -you have some associations in England.” - -“Not one that is not wretched.” - -“But a man of good family with some money is always certain to make new -associations for himself, no matter what his life has been. Marriage, -for instance; it is, I think, an exceedingly sure way of squaring a -fellow up in life.” - -“A very sure way indeed,” laughed Markham. “Never mind; in another week -I shall be away from this society which has already become so pleasant -to me. Perhaps I shall knock up against you in some of the strange -places of the earth, Harwood.” - -“I heartily hope so,” said the other. “But I still cannot see why you -should not come on with us to the Cape. The voyage will completely -restore you, you can get your money changed there, and a steamer of this -company's will take you away two days after you land.” - -“I cannot remain aboard this steamer,” said Markham quickly. “I must -leave at St. Helena.” Then he walked away with that shortness of -ceremony which steamer voyagers get into a habit of showing to each -other without giving offence. - -“Poor beggar!” muttered Harwood. “Wrecked in sight of the haven--a -pleasant haven--yes, if he is not an uncommonly good actor.” He turned -round from where he was leaning over the ship's side smoking, and saw -the man with whom he had been talking seated in his chair by the side -of Daireen Gerald. He watched them for some time--for a long time--until -his cigar was smoked to the very end. He looked over the side -thoughtfully as he dropped the remnant and heard its little hiss in -the water; then he repeated his words, “a wreck.” Once more he glanced -astern, and then he added thoughtfully, “Yes, he is right; he had much -better part at St. Helena--very much better.” - -Mr. Markham seemed quite naturally to have found his place in Mrs. -Crawford's set, exclusive though it was; for somehow aboard ship a man -amalgamates only with that society for which he is suited; a man is -seldom to be found out of place on account of certain considerations -such as one meets on shore. Not even Mr. Glaston could raise any protest -against Mr. Markham's right to take a place in the midst of the elect -of the cabin. But the young lady in whose birthday book Mr. Markham had -inscribed his name upon the first day of his appearance at the table, -thought it very unkind of him to join the band who had failed to -appreciate her toilet splendours. - -During the day on which he gave Harwood his brief autobiographical -outline, Mr. Oswin Markham was frequently by the side of Miss Gerald and -Mrs. Crawford. But towards night the major felt that it would be -unjust to allow him to be defrauded of the due amount of narratory -entertainment so necessary for his comfort; and with these excellent -intentions drew him away from the others of the set, and, sitting on the -secluded bridge, brought forth from the abundant resources of his memory -a few well-defined anecdotes of that lively Arradambad station. But -all the while the major was narrating the stories he could see that -Markham's soul was otherwhere, and he began to be disappointed in Mr. -Markham. - -“I mustn't bore you, Markham, my boy,” he said as he rose, after having -whiled away about two hours of the night in this agreeable occupation. -“No, I mustn't bore you, and you look, upon my soul, as if you had been -suffering.” - -“No, no, I assure you, I never enjoyed anything more than that story -of--of--the Surgeon-General and the wife of--of--the Commissary.” - -“The Adjutant-General, you mean,” interrupted the major. - -“Of course, yes, the Adjutant; a deucedly good story!” - -“Ah, not bad, is it? But there goes six bells; I must think about -turning in. Come and join me in a glass of brandy-and-water.” - -“No, no; not to-night--not to-night. The fact is I feel--I feel queer.” - -“You're not quite set on your feet yet, my boy,” said the major -critically. “Take care of yourself.” And he walked away, wondering if it -was possible that he had been deceived in his estimate of the nature of -Mr. Markham. - -But Mr. Markham continued sitting alone in the silence of the deserted -deck. His thoughts were truly otherwhere. He lay back upon his seat and -kept his eyes fixed upon the sky--the sky of stars towards which he had -looked in agony for those four nights when nothing ever broke in -upon the dread loneliness of the barren sea but those starlights. The -terrible recollection of every moment he had passed returned to him. - -Then he thought how he had heard of men becoming, through sufferings -such as his, oblivious of everything of their past life--men who were -thus enabled to begin life anew without being racked by any dread -memories, the agony that they had endured being acknowledged by Heaven -as expiation of their past deeds. That was justice, he felt, and if this -justice had been done to these men, why had it been withheld from him? - -“Could God Himself have added to what I endured?” he said, in passionate -bitterness. “God! did I not suffer until my agony had overshot its -mark by destroying in me the power of feeling agony--my agony consumed -itself; I was dead--dead; and yet I am denied the power of beginning my -new life under the conditions which are my due. What more can God want -of man than his life? have I not paid that debt daily for four days?” He -rose from his chair and stood upright upon the deck with clenched hands -and lips. “It is past,” he said, after a long pause. “From this hour -I throw the past beneath my feet. It is my right to forget all, and--I -have forgotten all--all.” - -Mr. Harwood had truly reason to feel surprised when, on the following -day, Oswin Markham came up to him, and said quietly: - -“I believe you are right, Harwood: after all, it would be foolish for me -to part from the ship at St. Helena. I have decided to take your advice -and run on to the Cape.” - -Harwood looked at him for a few moments before he answered slowly: - -“Ah, you have decided.” - -“Yes; you see I am amenable to reason: I acknowledge the wisdom of my -counsellors.” But Harwood made no answer, only continued with his -eyes fixed upon his face. “Hang it all,” exclaimed Markham, “can't -you congratulate me upon my return to the side of reason? Can't you -acknowledge that you have been mistaken in me--that you find I am not so -pig-headed as you supposed?” - -“Yes,” said Harwood; “you are not pig-headed.” And, taking all things -into consideration, it can hardly be denied that Mr. Oswin Markham's -claim to be exempted from the class of persons called pig-headed was -well founded. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - - 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late - - Given private time to you: and you yourself - - Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. - - Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?--_Hamlet_. - - -|MRS. Crawford felt that she was being unkindly dealt with by Fate in -many matters. She had formed certain plans on coming aboard the steamer -and on taking in at a glance the position of every one about her--it was -her habit to do so on the occasion of her arrival at any new station in -the Indian Empire--and hitherto she had generally had the satisfaction -of witnessing the success of her plans; but now she began to fear that -if things continued to diverge so widely from the paths which it was -natural to expect them to have kept, her skilful devices would be -completely overthrown. - -Mrs. Crawford had within the first few hours of the voyage communicated -to her husband her intention of surprising Colonel Gerald on the arrival -of his daughter at the Cape; for he could scarcely fail to be surprised -and, of course, gratified, if he were made aware of the fact that his -daughter had conceived an attachment for a young man so distinguished -in many ways as the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and -Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago--the style and titles of the -father of Mr. Glaston. - -But Daireen, instead of showing herself a docile subject and ready to -act according to the least suggestion of one who was so much wiser -and more experienced than herself, had begun to think and to act -most waywardly. Though she had gone ashore at Madeira contrary to Mr. -Glaston's advice, and had even ventured to assert, in the face of Mr. -Glaston's demonstration to the contrary, that she had spent a pleasant -day, yet Mrs. Crawford saw that it would be quite possible, by care and -thoughtfulness in the future, to overcome all the unhappy influences her -childishness would have upon the mind of Mr. Glaston. - -Being well aware of this, she had for some days great hope of her -protégée; but then Daireen had apparently cast to the winds all her -sense of duty to those who were qualified to instruct her, for she -had not only disagreed from Mr. Glaston upon a theory he had expressed -regarding the symbolism of a certain design having for its -chief elements sections of pomegranates and conventionalised -daisies--Innocence allured by Ungovernable Passion was the parable -preached through the union of some tones of sage green and saffron, Mr. -Glaston assured the circle whom he had favoured with his views on this -subject--but she had also laughed when Mr. Harwood made some whispered -remark about the distressing diffusion of jaundice through the floral -creation. - -This was very sad to Mrs. Crawford. She was nearly angry with Daireen, -and if she could have afforded it, she would have been angry with Mr. -Harwood; she was, however, mindful of the influence of the letters she -hoped the special correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ would be -writing regarding the general satisfaction that was felt throughout -the colonies of South Africa that the Home Government had selected -so efficient and trustworthy an officer to discharge the duties in -connection with the Army Boot Commission, so she could not be anything -but most friendly towards Mr. Harwood. - -Then it was a great grief to Mrs. Crawford to see the man who, though -undoubtedly well educated and even cultured, was still a sort of -adventurer, seating himself more than once by the side of Daireen on the -deck, and to notice that the girl talked with him even when Mr. Glaston -was near--Mr. Glaston, who had referred to his sudden arrival aboard -the ship as being melodramatic. But on the day preceding the expected -arrival of the steamer at St. Helena, the well-meaning lady began to -feel almost happy once more, for she recollected how fixed had been Mr. -Markham's determination to leave the steamer at the island. Being almost -happy, she thought she might go so far as to express to the man the -grief which reflecting upon his departure excited. - -“We shall miss you from our little circle, I can assure you, Mr. -Markham,” she said. “Your coming was so--so”--she thought of a -substitute for melodramatic--“so unexpected, and so--well, almost -romantic, that indeed it has left an impression upon all of us. Try and -get into a room in the hotel at James Town that the white ants haven't -devoured; I really envy you the delicious water-cress you will have -every day.” - -“You will be spared the chance of committing that sin, Mrs. Crawford, -though I fear the penance which will be imposed upon you for having even -imagined it will be unjustly great. The fact is, I have been so weak as -to allow myself to be persuaded by Doctor Campion and Harwood to go on -to the Cape.” - -“To go on to the Cape!” exclaimed the lady. - -“To go on to the Cape, Mrs. Crawford; so you see you will be bored with -me for another week.” - -Mrs. Crawford looked utterly bewildered, as, indeed, she was. Her smile -was very faint as she said: - -“Ah, how nice; you have been persuaded. Ah, very pleasant it will be; -but how one may be deceived in judging of another's character! I really -formed the impression that you were firmness itself, Mr. Markham!” - -“So I am, Mrs. Crawford, except when my inclination tends in the -opposite direction to my resolution; then, I assure you, I can be led -with a strand of floss.” - -This was, of course, very pleasant chat, and with the clink of -compliment about it, but it was anything but satisfactory to the lady to -whom it was addressed. She by no means felt in the mood for listening -to mere colloquialisms, even though they might be of the most brilliant -nature, which Mr. Markham's certainly were not. - -“Yes, I fancied that you were firmness itself,” she repeated. “But you -allowed your mind to be changed by--by the doctor and Mr. Harwood.” - -“Well, not wholly, to say the truth, Mrs. Crawford,” he interposed. “It -is pitiful to have to confess that I am capable of being influenced by a -monetary matter; but so it is: the fact is, if I were to land now at St. -Helena, I should be not only penniless myself, but I should be obliged -also to run in debt for these garments that my friend Phineas F. Fulton -of Denver City supplied me with, not to speak of what I feel I owe to -the steamer itself; so I think it is better for me to get my paper money -turned into cash at the Cape, and then hurry homewards.” - -“No doubt you understand your own business,” said the lady, smiling -faintly as she walked away. - -Mr. Oswin Markham watched her for some moments in a thoughtful way. He -had known for a considerable time that the major's wife understood -her business, at any rate, and that she was also quite capable of -comprehending--nay, of directing as well--the business of every member -of her social circle. But how was it possible, he asked himself, that -she should have come to look upon his remaining for another week aboard -the steamer as a matter of concern? He was a close enough observer to be -able to see from her manner that she did so; but he could not understand -how she should regard him as of any importance in the arrangement of her -plans for the next week, whatever they might be. - -But Mrs. Crawford, so soon as she found herself by the side of Daireen -in the evening, resolved to satisfy herself upon the subject of the -influences which had been brought to bear upon Mr. Oswin Markham, -causing his character for determination to be lost for ever. - -Daireen was sitting alone far astern, and had just finished directing -some envelopes for letters to be sent home the next day from St. Helena. - -“What a capital habit to get into of writing on that little case on -your knee!” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have been on deck all day, you see, -while the other correspondents are shut down in the saloon. You have had -a good deal to tell the old people at that wonderful Irish lake of yours -since you wrote at Madeira.” - -Daireen thought of all she had written regarding Standish, to prevent -his father becoming uneasy about him. - -“Oh, yes, I have had a good deal of news that will interest them,” she -said. “I have told them that the Atlantic is not such a terrible place -after all. Why, we have not had even a breeze yet.” - -“No, _we_ have not, but you should not forget, Daireen, the tornado that -at least one ship perished in.” She looked gravely at the girl, -though she felt very pleased indeed to know that her protégée had not -remembered this particular storm. “You have mentioned in your letters, I -hope, how Mr. Markham was saved?” - -“I believe I devoted an entire page to Mr. Markham,” Daireen replied -with a smile. - -“That is right, my dear. You have also said, I am sure, how we all hope -he is--a--a gentleman.” - -“_Hope?_” said Daireen quickly. Then she added after a pause, “No, -Mrs. Crawford, I don't think I said that. I only said that he would be -leaving us to-morrow.” - -Mrs. Crawford's nicely sensitive ear detected, she fancied, a tinge of -regret in the girl's last tone. - -“Ah, he told you that he had made up his mind to leave the ship at St. -Helena, did he not?” she asked. - -“Of course he is to leave us there, Mrs. Crawford. Did you not -understand so?” - -“I did indeed; but I am disappointed in Mr. Markham. I thought that he -was everything that is firm. Yes, I am disappointed in him.” - -“How?” said Daireen, with a little flush and an anxious movement of her -eyes. “How do you mean he has disappointed you?” - -“He is not going to leave us at St. Helena, Daireen; he is coming on -with us to the Cape.” - -With sorrow and dismay Mrs. Crawford noticed Daireen's face undergo a -change from anxiety to pleasure; nor did she allow the little flush that -came to the girl's forehead to escape her observation. These changes of -countenance were almost terrifying to the lady. “It is the first time I -have had my confidence in him shaken,” she added. “In spite of what Mr. -Harwood said of him I had not the least suspicion of this Mr. Markham, -but now----” - -“What did! Mr. Harwood say of him?” asked Daireen, with a touch of scorn -in her voice. - -“You need not get angry, Daireen, my child,” replied Mrs. Crawford. - -“Angry, Mrs. Crawford? How could you fancy I was angry? Only what right -had this Mr. Harwood to say anything about Mr. Markham? Perhaps Mr. -Glaston was saying something too. I thought that as Mr. Markham was a -stranger every one here would treat him with consideration, and yet, you -see----” - -“Good gracious, Daireen, what can you possibly mean?” cried Mrs. -Crawford. “Not a soul has ever treated Mr. Markham except in good taste -from the day he came aboard this vessel. Of course young men will talk, -especially young newspaper men, and more especially young _Dominant. -Trumpeter_ men. For myself, you saw how readily I admitted Mr. Markham -into our set, though you will allow that, all things considered, I need -not have done so at all.” - -“He was a stranger,” said Daireen. - -“But he is not therefore an angel unawares, my dear,” said Mrs. -Crawford, smiling as she patted the girl's hand in token of amity. “So -long as he meant, to be a stranger of course we were justified in making -him as pleasant as possible; but now, you see, he is not going to be a -stranger. But why should we talk upon so unprofitable a subject? Tell me -all the rest that you have been writing about.” - -Daireen made an attempt to recollect what were the topics of her -letters, but she was not very successful in recalling them. - -“I told them about the--the albatross, how it has followed us so -faithfully,” she said; “and how the Cape pigeons came to us yesterday.” - -“Ah, indeed. Very nice it will be for the dear old people at home. Ah, -Daireen, how happy you are to have some place you can look back upon and -think of as your home. Here am I in my old age still a vagabond upon the -face of the earth. I have no home, dear.” The lady felt that this piece -of pathos should touch the girl deeply. - -“No, no, don't say that, my dear Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen said gently. -“Say that your dear kind goodnature makes you feel at home in every part -of the world.” - -This was very nice Mrs. Crawford felt, as she kissed the face beside -her, but she did not therefore come to the conclusion that it would be -well to forget that little expression of pleasure which had flashed over -this same face a few minutes before. - -At this very hour upon the evening following the anchors were being -weighed, and the good steamer was already backing slowly out from the -place it had occupied in the midst of the little fleet of whale-ships -and East Indiamen beneath the grim shadow of that black ocean rock, St. -Helena. The church spire of James Town was just coming into view as -the motion of the ship disclosed a larger space of the gorge where the -little town is built. The flag was being hauled down from the spar -at the top of Ladder Hill, and the man was standing by the sunset gun -aboard H.M.S. _Cobra_. The last of the shore-boats was cast off from the -rail, and then, the anchor being reported in sight, the steamer put on -full speed ahead, the helm was made hard-a-starboard, and the vessel -swept round out of the harbour. - -Mr. Harwood and Major Crawford were in anxious conversation with an -engineer officer who had been summoned to the Cape to assist in a -certain council which was to be held regarding the attitude of a Kafir -chief who was inclined to be defiant of the lawful possessors of the -country. But Daireen was standing at the ship's side looking at that -wonderful line of mountain-wall connecting the batteries round the -island. Her thoughts were not, however, wholly of the days when -there was a reason why this little island should be the most strongly -fortified in the ocean. As the steamer moved gently round the dark -cliffs she was not reflecting upon what must have been the feelings of -the great emperor-general who had been accustomed to stand upon these -cliffs and to look seaward. Her thoughts were indeed undefined in their -course, and she knew this when she heard the voice of Oswin Markham -beside her. - -“Can you fancy what would be my thoughts at this time if I had kept to -my resolution--and if I were now up there among those big rocks?” he -asked. - -She shook her head, but did not utter a word in answer. - -“I wonder what would yours have been now if I had kept to my -resolution,” he then said. - -“I cannot tell you, indeed,” she answered. “I cannot fancy what I should -be thinking.” - -“Nor can I tell you what my thought would be,” he said after a pause. He -was leaning with one arm upon the moulding of the bulwarks, and she had -her eyes still fixed upon the ridges of the island. He touched her and -pointed out over the water. The sun like a shield of sparkling gold -had already buried half its disc beneath the horizon. They watched the -remainder become gradually less and less until only a thread of gold was -on the water; in another instant this had dwindled away. “I know now -how I should have felt,” he said, with his eyes fixed upon the blank -horizon. - -The girl looked out to that blank horizon also. - -Then from each fort on the cliffs there leaped a little flash of light, -and the roar of the sunset guns made thunder all along the hollow shore; -before the echoes had given back the sound, faint bugle-calls were -borne out to the ocean as fort answered fort all along that line of -mountain-wall. The girl listened until the faintest farthest thin -sound dwindled away just as the last touch of sunlight had waned into -blankness upon the horizon. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - - _Polonius_. What treasure had he, my lord? - - _Hamlet_. Why, - - "One fair daughter and no more, - - The which he loved passing well." - - -O my old friend, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last.... What, -my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven -than when I saw you last.... You are all welcome.--_Hamlet._ - - -|HOWEVER varying, indefinite, and objectless the thoughts of Daireen -Gerald may have been--and they certainly were--during the earlier days -of the voyage, they were undoubtedly fixed and steadfast during the last -week. She knew that she could not hear anything of her father until she -would arrive at the Cape, and so she had allowed herself to be buoyed up -by the hopeful conversation of the major and Mrs. Crawford, who seemed -to think of her meeting with her father as a matter of certainty, and by -the various little excitements of every day. But now when she knew that -upon what the next few days would bring forth all the happiness of her -future life depended, what thought--what prayer but one, could she have? - -She was certainly not good company during these final days. Mr. Harwood -never got a word from her. Mr. Glaston did not make the attempt, though -he attributed her silence to remorse at having neglected his artistic -instructions. Major Crawford's gallantries received no smiling -recognition from her; and Mrs. Crawford's most motherly pieces of pathos -went by unheeded so far as Daireen was concerned. - -What on earth was the matter, Mrs. Crawford thought; could it be -possible that her worst fears were realised? she asked herself; and -she made a vow that even if Mr. Harwood had spoken a single word on the -subject of affection to Daireen, he should forfeit her own friendship -for ever. - -“My dear Daireen,” she said, two days after leaving St. Helena, “you -know I love you as a daughter, and I have come to feel for you as -a mother might. I know something is the matter--what is it? you may -confide in me; indeed you may.” - -“How good you are!” said the child of this adoption; “how very good! You -know all that is the matter, though you have in your kindness prevented -me from feeling it hitherto.” - -“Good gracious, Daireen, you frighten me! No one can have been speaking -to you surely, while I am your guardian----” - -“You know what a wretched doubt there is in my mind now that I know -a few days will tell me all that can be told--you know the terrible -question that comes to me every day--every hour--shall I see him?--shall -he be--alive?” - -Even the young men, with no touches of motherly pathos about them, had -appreciated the girl's feelings in those days more readily than Mrs. -Crawford. - -“My poor dear little thing,” she now said, fondling her in a way whose -soothing effect the combined efforts of all the young men could never -have approached. “Don't let the doubt enter your mind for an instant--it -positively must not. Your father is as well as I am to-day, I can assure -you. Can you disbelieve me? I know him a great deal better than you do; -and I know the Cape climate better than you do. Nonsense, my dear, no -one ever dies at the Cape--at least not when they go there to recover. -Now make your mind easy for the next three days.” - -But for just this interval poor Daireen's mind was in a state of -anything but repose. - -During the last night the steamer would be on the voyage she found it -utterly impossible to go to sleep. She heard all of the bells struck -from watch to watch. Her cabin became stifling to her though a cool -breeze was passing through the opened port. She rose, dressed herself, -and went on deck though it was about two o'clock in the morning. It -was a terrible thing for a girl to do, but nothing could have prevented -Daireen's taking that step. She stood just outside the door of the -companion, and in the moonlight and soft air of the sea more ease of -mind came to her than she had yet felt on this voyage. - -While she stood there in the moonlight listening to the even whisperings -of the water as it parted away before the ship, and to the fitful -flights of the winged fish, she seemed to hear some order as she -thought, given from the forward part of the vessel. In another minute -the officer on watch hastened past her. She heard him knock at the -captain's cabin which was just aft of the deck-house, and make the -report. - -“Fixed light right ahead, sir.” - -She knew then that the first glimpse of the land which they were -approaching had been obtained, and her anxiety gave place to peace. That -message of the light seemed to be ominous of good to her. She returned -to her cabin, and found it cool and tranquil, so that she fell asleep at -once; and when she next opened her eyes she saw a tall man standing with -folded arms beside her, gazing at her. She gave but one little cry, and -then that long drooping moustache of his was down upon her face and her -bare arms were about his neck. - -“Thank you, thank you, Dolly; that is a sufficiently close escape from -strangulation to make me respect your powers,” said the man; and at the -sound of his voice Daireen turned her face to her pillow, while the man -shook out with spasmodic fingers his handkerchief from its folds and -endeavoured to repair the injury done to his moustache by the girl's -embrace. - -“Now, now, my Dolly,” he said, after some convulsive mutterings which -Daireen could, of course, not hear; “now, now, don't you think it might -be as well to think of making some apology for your laziness instead of -trying to go asleep again?” - -Then she looked up with wondering eyes. - -“I don't understand anything at all,” she cried. “How could I go asleep -when we were within four hours of the Cape? How could any one be so -cruel as to let me sleep so dreadfully? It was wicked of me: it was -quite wicked.” - -“There's not the least question about the enormity of the crime, -I'm afraid,” he answered; “only I think that Mrs. Crawford may be -responsible for a good deal of it, if her confession to me is to be -depended upon. She told me how you were--but never mind, I am the -ill-treated one in the matter, and I forgive you all.” - -“And we have actually been brought into the dock?” - -“For the past half-hour, my love; and I have been waiting for much -longer. I got the telegram you sent to me, by the last mail from -Madeira, so that I have been on the lookout for the _Cardwell Castle_ -for a week. Now don't be too hard on an old boy, Dolly, with all of -those questions I see on your lips. Here, I'll take them in the lump, -and think over them as I get through a glass of brandy-and-water with -Jack Crawford and the Sylph--by George, to think of your meeting with -the poor old hearty Sylph--ah, I forgot you never heard that we used to -call Mrs. Crawford the Sylph at our station before you were born. There, -now I have got all your questions, my darling--my own darling little -Dolly.” - -She only gave him a little hug this time, and he hastened up to the -deck, where Mrs. Crawford and her husband were waiting for him. - -“Now, did I say anything more of her than was the truth, George?” cried -Mrs. Crawford, so soon as Colonel Gerald got on deck. - -But Colonel Gerald smiled at her abstractedly and pulled fiercely at the -ends of his moustache. Then seeing Mr. Harwood at the other side of -the skylight, he ran and shook hands with him warmly; and Harwood, -who fancied he understood something of the theory of the expression of -emotion in mankind, refrained from hinting to the colonel that they had -already had a chat together since the steamer had come into dock. - -Mrs. Crawford, however, was not particularly well pleased to find that -her old friend George Gerald had only answered her with that vague -smile, which implied nothing; she knew that he had been speaking for -half an hour before with Harwood, from whom he had heard the first -intelligence of his appointment to the Castaway group. When Colonel -Gerald, however, went the length of rushing up to Doctor Campion -and violently shaking hands with him also, though they had been in -conversation together before, the lady began to fear that the attack of -fever from which it was reported Daireen's father had been suffering had -left its traces upon him still. - -“Rather rum, by gad,” said the major, when his attention was called -to his old comrade's behaviour. “Just like the way a boy would behave -visiting his grandmother, isn't it? Looks as if he were working off his -feelings, doesn't it? By gad, he's going back to Harwood!” - -“I thought he would,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Harwood can tell him all -about his appointment. That's what George, like all the rest of them -nowadays, is anxious about. He forgets his child--he has no interest in -her, I see.” - -“That's devilish bad, Kate, devilish bad! by Jingo! But upon my soul, -I was under the impression that his wildness just now was the effect of -having been below with the kid.” - -“If he had the least concern about her, would he not come to me, when he -knows very well that I could tell him all about the voyage? But no, he -prefers to remain by the side of the special correspondent.” - -“No, he doesn't; here he comes, and hang me if he isn't going to shake -hands with both of us!” cried the major, as Colonel Gerald, recognising -him, apparently for the first time, left Harwood's side and hastened -across the deck with extended hand. - -“George, dear old George,” said Mrs. Crawford, reflecting upon the -advantages usually attributed to the conciliatory method of -treatment. “Isn't it like the old time come back again? Here we stand -together--Jack, Campion, yourself and myself, just as we used to be -in--ah, it cannot have been '58!--yes, it was, good gracious, '58! It -seems like a dream.” - -“Exactly like a dream, by Jingo, my dear,” said the major pensively, for -he was thinking what an auxiliary to the realistic effect of the scene a -glass of brandy-and-water, or some other Indian cooling drink, would be. -“Just like a vision, you know, George, isn't it? So if you'll come -to the smoking-room, we'll have that light breakfast we were talking -about.” - -“He won't go, major,” said the lady severely. - -“He wishes to have a talk with me about the dear child. Don't you, -George?” - -“And about your dear self, Kate,” replied Colonel Gerald, in the -Irish way that brought back to the lady still more vividly all the old -memories of the happy station on the Himalayas. - -“Ah, how like George that, isn't it?” she whispered to her husband. - -“My dear girl, don't be a tool,” was the parting request of the major as -he strolled off to where the doctor was, he knew, waiting for some sign -that the brandy and water were amalgamating. - -“I'm glad that we are alone, George,” said Mrs. Crawford, taking Colonel -Gerald's arm. “We can talk together freely about the child--about -Daireen.” - -“And what have we to say about her, Kate? Can you give me any hints -about her temper, eh? How she needs to be managed, and that sort of -thing? You used to be capital at that long ago.” - -“And I flatter myself that I can still tell all about a girl after a -single glance; but, my dear George, I never indeed knew what a truly -perfect nature was until I came to understand Daireen. She is an angel, -George.” - -“No,” said the colonel gently; “not Daireen--she is not the angel; but -her face, when I saw it just now upon its pillow, sent back all my soul -in thought of one--one who is--who always was an angel--my good angel.” - -“That was my first thought too,” said Mrs. Crawford. “And her nature is -the same. Only poor Daireen errs on the side of good nature. She is a -child in her simplicity of thought about every one she meets. She wants -some one near her who will be able to guide her tastes in--in--well, -in different matters. By the way, you remember Austin Glaston, who was -chaplain for a while on the _Telemachus_, and who got made Bishop of the -Salamanders; well, that is his son, that tall handsome youngman--I must -present you. He is one of the most distinguished men I ever met.” - -“Ah, indeed? Does he write for a newspaper?” - -“Oh, George, I am ashamed of you. No, Mr. Glaston is a--a--an artist and -a poet, and--well, he does nearly everything much better than any one -else, and if you take my advice you will give him an invitation to -dinner, and then you will find out all.” - -Before Colonel Gerald could utter a word he was brought face to face -with Mr. Glaston, and felt his grasp responded to by a gentle pressure. - -“I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Glaston; your father and I were old -friends. If you are staying at Cape Town, I hope you will not neglect to -call upon my daughter and myself,” said the colonel. - -“You are extremely kind,” returned the young man: “I shall be -delighted.” - -Thus Daireen on coming on deck found her father in conversation with -Mr. Glaston, and already acquainted with every member of Mrs. Crawford's -circle. - -“Mr. Glaston has just promised to pay you a visit on shore, my dear,” - said the major's wife, as she came up. - -“How very kind,” said Daireen. “But can he tell me where I live ashore, -for no one has thought fit to let me know anything about myself. I will -never forgive you, Mrs. Crawford, for ordering that I was not to be -awakened this morning. It was too cruel.” - -“Only to be kind, dear; I knew what a state of nervousness you were in.” - -“And now of course,” continued the girl, “when I come on deck all the -news will have been told--even that secret about the Castaway Islands.” - -“Heavens':” said the colonel, “what about the Castaway Islands? Have -they been submerged, or have they thrown off the British yoke already?” - -“I see you know all,” she said mournfully, “and I had treasured up all -that Mr. Harwood said no one in the world but himself knew, to be the -first to tell you. And now, too, you know every one aboard except--ah, -I have my secret to tell at last. There he stands, and even you don't -remember him, papa. Come here, Standish, and let me present you. -This, papa, is Standish Macnamara, and he is coming out with us now to -wherever we are to live.” - -“Good gracious, Daireen!” cried Mrs. Crawford. - -“What, Standish, Prince of Innishdermot!” said the colonel. “My dear -boy, I am delighted to welcome you to this strange place. I remember you -when your curls were a good deal longer, my boy.” - -Poor Standish, who was no longer in his sailor's jacket, but in the best -attire his Dublin tailor could provide, blushed most painfully as every -one gazed at him--every one with the exception of Daireen, who was -gazing anxiously around the deck as though she expected to see some one -still. - -“This is certainly a secret,” murmured Mrs. Crawford. - -“Now, Daireen, to the shore,” said Colonel Gerald. “You need not say -good-bye to any one here. Mrs. Crawford will be out to dine with us -to-morrow. She will bring the major and Doctor Campion, and Mr. Harwood -says he will ride one of my horses till he gets his own. So there need -be no tears. My man will look after the luggage while I drive you out.” - -“I must get my bag from my cabin,” Daireen said, going slowly towards -the companion. In a few moments she reappeared with her dressing-bag, -and gave another searching glance around the deck. - -“Now,” she said, “I am ready.” - - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - - Something have you heard - - Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it-- - - ... What it should be... - - I cannot dream or - - ... gather - - So much as from occasion you may glean - - Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him. - - At night we'll feast together: - - Most welcome home! - - Most fair return of greetings._Hamlet._ - - -|WHAT an extraordinary affair!' said Mrs. Crawford, turning from where -she had been watching the departure of the colonel and his daughter and -that tall handsome young friend of theirs whom they had called Standish -MacDermot. - -'I would not have believed it of Daireen. Standish MacDermot--what a -dreadful Irish name! But where can he have been aboard the ship? He -cannot have been one of those terrible fore-cabin passengers. Ah, I -would not have believed her capable of such disingenuousness. Who is -this young man, Jack?' - -'My dear girl, never mind the young man or the young woman just now. -We must look after the traps and get them through the Custom-house.' -replied the major. - -'Mr. Harwood, who is this young man with the terrible Irish name?' she -asked in desperation of the special correspondent. She felt indeed in an -extremity when she sought Harwood for an ally. - -'I never was so much astonished in all my life,' he whispered in answer. -'I never heard of him. She never breathed a word about him to me.' - -Mrs. Crawford did not think this at all improbable, seeing that Daireen -had never breathed a word about him to herself. - -'My dear Mr. Harwood, these Irish are too romantic for us. It is -impossible for us ever to understand them.' And she hastened away to -look after her luggage. It was not until she was quite alone that she -raised her hands, exclaiming devoutly, 'Thank goodness Mr. Glaston had -gone before this second piece of romance was disclosed! What on earth -would he have thought!' - -The reflection made the lady shudder. Mr. Glaston's thoughts, if he had -been present while Daireen was bringing forward this child of mystery, -Standish MacDermot, would, she knew, have been too terrible to be -contemplated. - -As for Mr. Harwood, though he professed to be affected by nothing that -occurred about him, still he felt himself uncomfortably surprised by the -sudden appearance of the young Irishman with whom Miss Gerald and her -father appeared to be on such familiar terms; and as he stood looking up -to that marvellous hill in whose shadow Cape Town lies, he came to the -conclusion that it would be as well for him to find out all that could -be known about this Standish MacDermot. He had promised Daireen's father -to make use of one of his horses so long as he would remain at the Cape, -and it appeared from all he could gather that the affairs in the colony -were becoming sufficiently complicated to compel his remaining here -instead of hastening out to make his report of the Castaway group. The -British nation were of course burning to hear all that could be told -about the new island colony, but Mr. Harwood knew very well that -the heading which would be given in the columns of the '_Dominant -Trumpeter_' to any information regarding the attitude of the defiant -Kafir chief would be in very much larger type than that of the most -flowery paragraph descriptive of the charms of the Castaway group; and -so he had almost made up his mind that it would be to the advantage of -the newspaper that he should stay at the Cape. Of course he felt that he -had at heart no further interests, and so long as it was not conflicting -with those interests he would ride Colonel Gerald's horse, and, perhaps, -walk with Colonel Gerald's daughter. - -But all the time that he was reflecting in this consistent manner the -colonel and his daughter and Standish were driving along the base of -Table Mountain, while on the other side the blue waters of the lovely -bay were sparkling between the low shores of pure white sand, and far -away the dim mountain ridges were seen. - -'Shall I ever come to know that mountain and all about it as well as -I know our own dear Slieve Docas?' cried the girl, looking around her. -'Will you, do you think, Standish?' - -'Nothing here can compare with our Irish land,' cried Standish. - -'You are right my boy,' said Daireen's father. 'I have knocked about a -good deal, and I have seen a good many places, and, after all, I have -come to the conclusion that our own Suangorm is worth all that I have -seen for beauty.' - -'We can all sympathise with each other here,' said the girl laughing. -'We will join hands and say that there is no place in the world like our -Ireland, and then, maybe, the strangers here will believe us.' - -'Yes,' said her father, 'we will think of ourselves in the midst of a -strange country as three representatives of the greatest nation in, the -world. Eh, Standish, that would please your father.' - -But Standish could not make any answer to this allusion to his father. -He was in fact just now wondering what Colonel Gerald would say when he -would hear that Standish had travelled six thousand miles for the sake -of obtaining his advice as to the prudence of entertaining the thought -of leaving home. Standish was beginning to fear that there was a flaw -somewhere in the consistency of the step he had taken, complimentary -though it undoubtedly was to the judgment of Colonel Gerald. He could -hardly define the inconsistency of which he was conscious, but as the -phaeton drove rapidly along the red road beside the high peak of the -mountain he became more deeply impressed with the fact that it existed -somewhere. - -Passing along great hedges of cactus and prickly-pear, and by the side -of some well-wooded grounds with acres of trim green vineyards, the -phaeton proceeded for a few miles. The scene was strange to Daireen and -Standish; only for the consciousness of that towering peak they were -grateful. Even though its slope was not swathed in heather, it still -resembled in its outline the great Slieve Docas, and this was enough to -make them feel while passing beneath it that it was a landmark breathing -of other days. Half way up the ascent they could see in a ravine a large -grove of the silver-leaf fir, and the sun-glints among the exquisite -white foliage were very lovely. Further down the mighty aloes threw -forth their thick green branches in graceful divergence, and then along -the road were numerous bullock waggons with Malay drivers--eighteen -or twenty animals running in a team. Nothing could have added to the -strangeness of the scene to the girl and her companion, and yet the -shadow of that great hill made the land seem no longer weary. - -At last, just at the foot of the hill, Colonel Gerald turned his horses -to where there was a broad rough avenue made through a grove of pines, -and after following its curves for some distance, a broad cleared space -was reached, beyond which stood a number of magnificent Australian -oaks and fruit trees surrounding a long low Dutch-built house with an -overhanging roof and the usual stoëp--the raised stone border--in front. - -'This is our house, my darling,' said the girl's father as he pulled up -at the door. 'I had only a week to get it in order for you, but I hope -you will like it.' - -'Like it?' she cried; 'it is lovelier than any we had in India, and then -the hill--the hill--oh, papa, this is home indeed.' - -'And for me, my own little Dolly, don't you think it is home too?' he -said when he had his arms about her in the hall. 'With this face in my -hands at last I feel all the joy of home that has been denied to me for -years. How often have I seen your face, Dolly, as I sat with my coffee -in the evening in my lonely bungalow under the palms? The sight of it -used to cheer me night after night, darling,' but now that I have it -here--here----' - -'Keep it there,' she cried. 'Oh, papa, papa, why should we be miserable -apart ever again? I will stay with you now wherever you go for ever.' - -Colonel Gerald looked at her for a minute, he kissed her once again upon -the face, and then burst into a laugh. - -'And this is the only result of a voyage made under the protection of -Mrs. Crawford!' he said. 'My dear, you must have used some charm to have -resisted her power; or has she lost her ancient cunning? Why, after a -voyage with Mrs. Crawford I have seen the most devoted daughters desert -their parents. When I heard that you were coming out with her I feared -you would allow yourself to be schooled by her into a sense of your -duty, but it seems you have been stubborn.' - -'She was everything that is kind to me, and I don't know what I should -have done without her,' said the girl. 'Only, I'll never forgive her -for not having awakened me to meet you this morning. But last night -I suppose she thought I was too nervous. I was afraid, you know, -lest--lest--but never mind, here we are together at home--for there is -the hill--yes, at home.' - -But when Daireen found herself in the room to which she had been shown -by the neat little handmaiden provided by Colonel Gerald, and had seated -herself in sight of a bright green cactus that occupied the centre of -the garden outside, she had much to think about. She just at this moment -realised that all her pleasant life aboard the steamer was at an end. -More than a touch of sadness was in her reflection, for she had come to -think of the good steamer as something more than a mere machine; it -had been a home to her for twenty-five days, and it had contained her -happiness and sorrow during that time as a home would have done. Then -how could she have parted from it an hour before with so little concern? -she asked herself. How could she have left it without shaking hands -with--with all those who had been by her side for many days on the good -old ship? Some she had said goodbye to, others she would see again on -the following day, but still there were some whom she had left the ship -without seeing--some who had been associated with her happiness during -part of the voyage, at any rate, and she might never see them again. The -reflection made her very sad, nor did the feeling pass off during the -rest of the day spent by her father's side. - -The day was very warm, and, as Daireens father was still weak, he did -not stray away from the house beyond the avenue of shady oaks leading -down to a little stream that moved sluggishly on its way a couple of -hundred yards from the garden. They had, of course, plenty to talk -about; for Colonel Gerald was somewhat anxious to hear how his friend -Standish had come out. He had expressed the happiness he felt on meeting -with the young man as soon as his daughter had said that he would go -out to wherever they were to live, but he thought it would increase his -satisfaction if his daughter would tell him how it came to pass that -this young man was unacquainted with any of the passengers. - -Daireen now gave him the entire history of Standish's quarrel with his -father, and declared that it was solely to obtain the advice of Colonel -Gerald he had made the voyage from Ireland. - -The girl's father laughed when he heard of this characteristic action -on the part of the young man; but he declared that it proved he meant -to work for himself in the world, and not be content to live upon -the traditions of The Mac-Dermots; and then he promised the girl that -something should be done for the son of the hereditary prince. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - - The nights are wholesome; - - No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, - - So hallowed and so gracious is the time. - - What, has this thing appeared again to-night?--Hamlet. - - -|WHEN evening came Daireen and her father sat out upon their chairs on -the stoëp in front of the house. The sun had for long been hidden by the -great peak, though to the rest of the world not under its shadow he had -only just sunk. The twilight was very different from the last she had -seen on land, when the mighty Slieve Docas had appeared in his purple -robe. Here the twilight was brief and darkly blue as it overhung the -arched aloes and those large palm plants whose broad leaves waved not -in the least breeze. Far in the mellow distance a large star was -glittering, and the only sound in the air was the shrill whistle of one -of the Cape field crickets. - -Then began the struggle between moonlight and darkness. The leaves of -the boughs that were clasped above the little river began to be softly -silvered as the influence of the rising light made itself apparent, and -then the highest ridges of the hill gave back a flash as the beams shot -through the air. - -These changes were felt by the girl sitting silently beside her -father--the changes of the twilight and of the moonlight, before the -full round shield of the orb appeared above the trees, and the white -beams fell around the broad floating leaves beneath her feet. - -'Are you tired, Dolly?' asked her father. - -'Not in the least, papa; it seems months since I was at sea.' - -'Then you will ride with me for my usual hour? I find it suits me better -to take an hour's exercise in the cool of the evening.' - -'Nothing could be lovelier on such an evening,' she cried. 'It will -complete our day's happiness.' - -She hastened to put on her habit while her father went round to the -stables to give directions to the groom regarding the saddling of a -certain little Arab which had been bought within the week. In a short -time Standish was left to gaze in admiration at the fine seat of the old -officer in his saddle, and in rapture at the delicately shaped figure of -the girl, as they trotted down the avenue between those strange trees. - -They disappeared among the great leaves; and when the sound of their -horses' hoofs had died away, Standish, sitting there upon the raised -ground in front of the house, had his own hour of thought. He felt that -he had hitherto not accomplished much in his career of labour. He had -had an idea that there were a good many of the elements of heroism in -joining as he did the vessel in which the girl was going abroad. Visions -of wrecks, of fires, of fallings overboard, nay of pirates even, had -floated before his mind, with himself as the only one near to save the -girl from each threatening calamity. He had heard of such things taking -place daily, and he was prepared to risk himself for her sake, and to -account himself happy if the chance of protecting her should occur. - -But so soon as he had been a few days at sea, and had found that such -a thing as danger was not even hinted at any more than it would be in -a drawing-room on shore--when in fact he saw how like a drawing-room on -shore was the quarter-deck of the steamer, he began to be disappointed. -Daireen was surrounded by friends who would, if there might chance to be -the least appearance of danger, resent his undertaking to save the girl -whom he loved with every thought of his soul. He would not, in fact, be -permitted to play the part of the hero that his imagination had marked -out for himself. - -Yes, he felt that the heroic elements in his position aboard the steamer -had somehow dwindled down to a minimum; and now here he had been so weak -as to allow himself to be induced to come out to live, even though only -for a short time, at this house. He felt that his acceptance of the -sisterly friendship of the girl was making it daily more impossible for -him to kneel at her feet, as he meant one day to do, and beg of her to -accept of some heroic work done on her behalf. - -'She is worthy of all that a man could do with all his soul,' Standish -cried as he stood there in the moonlight. But what can I do for her? -What can I do for her? Oh, I am the most miserable wretch in the whole -world!' - -This was not a very satisfactory conclusion for him to come to; but on -the whole it did not cause him much despondency. In his Irish nature -there were almost unlimited resources of hope, and it would have -required a large number of reverses of fortune to cast him down utterly. - -While he was trying in vain to make himself feel as miserable as he knew -his situation demanded him to be, Daireen and her father were riding -along the road that leads from Cape Town to the districts of Wynberg and -Constantia. They went along through the moonlight beneath the splendid -avenue of Australian oaks at the old Dutch district of Bondebosch, and -then they turned aside into a narrow lane of cactus and prickly pear -which brought them to that great sandy plain densely overgrown with -blossoming heath and gorse called The Mats, along which they galloped -for some miles. Turning their horses into the road once more, they then -walked them back towards their house at Mowbray. - -Daireen felt that she had never before so enjoyed a ride. All was so -strange. That hill whose peak was once again towering above them; that -long dark avenue with the myriads of fire-flies sparkling amongst the -branches; the moonlight that was flooding the world outside; and then -her companion, her father, whose face she had been dreaming over daily -and nightly. She had never before so enjoyed a ride. - -They had gone some distance through the oak avenue when they turned -their horses aside at the entrance to one of the large vineyards that -are planted in such neat lines up the sloping ground. - -'Well, Dolly, are you satisfied at last?' said Colonel Gerald, looking -into the girl's face that the moonlight was glorifying, though here and -there the shadow of a leaf fell upon her. - -'Satisfied! Oh, it is all like a dream,' she said. 'A strange dream of a -strange place. When I think that a month ago I was so different, I -feel inclined to--to--ask you to kiss me again, to make sure I am not -dreaming.' - -'If you are under the impression that you are a sleeping beauty, dear, -and that you can only be roused by that means, I have no objection.' - -'Now I am sure it is all reality,' she said with a little laugh. 'Oh, -papa, I am so happy. Could anything disturb our happiness?' - -Suddenly upon the dark avenue behind them there came the faint sound -of a horses hoof, and then of a song sung carelessly through the -darkness--one she had heard before. - -The singer was evidently approaching on horseback, for the last notes -were uttered just opposite where the girl and her father were standing -their horses behind the trees at the entrance to the vineyard. The -singer too seemed to have reined in at this point, though of course he -could not see either of the others, the branches were so close. Daireen -was mute while that air was being sung, and in another instant she -became aware of a horse being pushed between the trees a few yards from -her. There was only a small space to pass, so she and her father backed -their horses round and the motion made the stranger start, for he had -not perceived them before. - -'I beg you will not move on my account. I did not know there was anyone -here, or I should not have----' - -The light fell upon the girl's face, and her father saw the stranger -give another little start. - -'You need not make an apology to us, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen. 'We had -hidden ourselves, I know. Papa, this is Mr. Oswin Markham. How odd it is -that we should meet here upon the first evening of landing! The Cape is -a good deal larger than the quarterdeck of the “Cardwell Castle.”' - -'You were a passenger, no doubt, aboard the steamer my daughter came out -in, Mr. Markham?' said Colonel Gerald. - -Mr. Markham laughed. - -'Upon my word I hardly know that I am entitled to call myself a -passenger,' he said. 'Can you define my position, Miss Gerald? it was -something very uncertain. I am a castaway--a waif that was picked up in -a half-drowned condition from a broken mast in the Atlantic, and -sheltered aboard the hospitable vessel.' - -'It is very rarely that a steamer is so fortunate as to save a life -in that way,' said Colonel Gerald. 'Sailing vessels have a much better -chance.' - -'To me it seems almost a miracle--a long chain of coincidences was -necessary for my rescue, and yet every link was perfect to the end.' - -'It is upon threads our lives are constantly hanging,' said the colonel, -backing his horse upon the avenue. 'Do you remain long in the colony, -Mr. Markham?' he asked when they were standing in a group at a place -where the moonlight broke through the branches. - -'I think I shall have to remain for some weeks,' he answered. 'Campion -tells me I must not think of going to England until the violence of the -winter there is past.' - -'Then we shall doubtless have the pleasure of meeting you frequently. -We have a cottage at Mowbray, where we would be delighted to see you. By -the way, Mrs. Crawford and a few of my other old friends are coming -out to dine with us to-morrow, my daughter and myself would be greatly -pleased if you could join us.' - -'You are exceedingly kind,' said Mr. Markham. 'I need scarcely say how -happy I will be.' - -'Our little circle on board the good old ship is not yet to be -dispersed, you see, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen with a laugh. 'For once -again, at any rate, we will be all together.' - -'For once again,' he repeated as he raised his hat, the girl's horse -and her father's having turned. 'For once again, till when goodbye, Miss -Gerald.' - -'Goodbye, Mr. Markham,' said the colonel. 'By the way, we dine early I -should have told you--half past six.' - -Markham watched them ride along the avenue and reappear in the moonlight -space beyond. Then he dropped the bridle on his horse's neck and -listlessly let the animal nibble at the leaves on the side of the -road for a long time. At last he seemed to start into consciousness of -everything. He gathered up the bridle and brought the horse back to the -avenue. - -'It is Fate or Providence or God this time,' he muttered as if for his -own satisfaction. 'I have had no part in the matter; I have not so much -as raised my hand for this, and yet it has come.' - -He walked his horse back to Cape Town in the moonlight. - -'I don't think you mentioned this Mr. Markham's name to me, Dolly,' said -Colonel Gerald as they returned to Mowbray. - -'I don't think I did, papa; but you see he had gone ashore when I came -on deck to you this morning, and I did not suppose we should ever meet -again.' - -'I hope you do not object to my asking him to dinner, dear?' - -'I object, papa? Oh, no, no; I never felt so glad at anything. He does -not talk affectedly like Mr. Glaston, nor cleverly like Mr. Harwood, so -I prefer him to either of them. And then, think of his being for a week -tossing about the Atlantic upon that wreck.' - -'All very good reasons for asking him to dine to-morrow,' said her -father. 'Now suppose we try a trot.' - -'I would rather walk if it is the same to you, papa,' she said. 'I don't -feel equal to another trot now.' - -'Why, surely, you have not allowed yourself to become tired, Daireen? -Yes, my dear, you look it. I should have remembered that you are just -off the sea. We will go gently home, and you will get a good sleep.' - -They did go very gently, and silently too, and in a short time Daireen -was lying on her bed, thinking not of the strange moonlight wonders of -her ride, but of that five minutes spent upon the avenue of Australian -oaks down which had echoed that song. - -It seemed that poor Mrs. Crawford was destined to have enigmas of the -most various sorts thrust upon her for her solution; at any rate she -regarded the presence of Mr. Oswin Markham at Colonel Crawford's little -dinner the next, evening as a question as puzzling as the mysterious -appearance of the young man called Standish MacDermot. She, however, -chatted with Mr. Markham as usual, and learned that he also was going to -a certain garden party which was to be held at Government House in a few -days. - -'And you will come too, Daireen?' she said. 'You must come, for Mr. -Glaston has been so good as to promise to exhibit in one of the rooms a -few of his pictures he spoke to us about. How kind of him, isn't it, to -try and educate the taste of the colony?' The bishop has not yet arrived -at the Cape, but Mr. Glaston says he will wait for him for a fortnight.' - -'For a fortnight? Such filial devotion will no doubt bring its own -reward,' said Mr. Harwood. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - - Being remiss, - - Most generous and free from all contriving. - - A heart unfortified, - - An understanding simple and unschooled. - - A violet in the youth of primy nature. - - O'tis most sweet - - When in one line two crafts directly meet. - - Soft,--let me see:-- - - We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE band of the gallant Bayonetteers was making the calm air of -Government House gardens melodious with the strains of an entrancing -German valse not more than a year old, which had convulsed society at -Cape Town when introduced a few weeks previously; for society at Cape -Town, like society everywhere else, professes to understand everything -artistic, even to the delicacies of German dance music. The evening was -soft and sunny, while the effect of a very warm day drawing near its -close was to be seen everywhere around. The broad leaves of the feathery -plants were hanging dry and languid across the walks, and the grass was -becoming tawny as that on the Lion's Head--that strangely curved hill -beside Table Mountain. The giant aloes and plantains were, however, -defiant of the heat and spread their leaves out mightily as ever. - -The gardens are always charming in the southern spring, but never so -charming as when their avenues are crowded with coolly dressed girls of -moderate degrees of prettiness whose voices are dancing to the melody of -a German valse not more than a year old. How charming it is to discuss -all the absorbing colonial questions--such as how the beautiful Van -der Veldt is looking this evening; and if Miss Van Schmidt, whose papa -belongs to the Legislative Council and is consequently a voice in the -British Empire, has really carried out his threat of writing home to the -War Office to demand the dismissal of that young Mr. Westbury from the -corps of Royal Engineers on account of his conduct towards Miss Van -Schmidt; or perhaps a question of art, such as how the general's -daughters contrive to have Paris bonnets several days previous to the -arrival of the mail with the patterns; or a question of diplomacy, such -as whether His Excellency's private secretary will see his way to making -that proposal to the second eldest daughter of one of the Supreme Court -judges. There is no colony in the world so devoted to discussions of -this nature as the Cape, and in no part of the colony may a discussion -be carried out with more spirit than in the gardens around Government -House. - -But upon the afternoon of this garden party there was an unusual display -of colonial beauty and colonial young men--the two are never found in -conjunction--and English delicacy and Dutch _gaucherie_, for the spring -had been unusually damp, and this was the first garden party day that -was declared perfect. There were, of course, numbers of officers, the -military with their wives--such as had wives, and the naval with other -people's wives, each branch of the service grumbling at the other's luck -in this respect. And then there were sundry civil servants of exalted -rank--commissioners of newly founded districts, their wives and -daughters, and a brace of good colonial bishops also, with their -partners in their mission labours, none of whom objected to Waldteufel -or Gung'l. - -On the large lawn in front of the balcony at the Residence there was a -good deal of tennis being played, and upon the tables laid out on the -balcony there were a good many transactions in the way of brandy and -soda carried on by special commissioners and field officers, whose -prerogative it was to discuss the attitude of the belligerent Kafir -chief who, it was supposed, intended to give as much trouble as he could -without inconvenience to himself. And then from shady places all around -the avenues came the sounds of girlish laughter and the glimmer of -muslin. Behind this scene the great flat-faced, flat-roofed mountain -stood dark and bold, and through it all the band of the Bayonetteers -brayed out that inspiriting valse. - -Major Crawford was, in consequence of the importance of his mission to -the colony, pointed out to the semi-Dutch legislators, each of whom -had much to tell him on the burning boot question; and Mr. Harwood -was naturally enough, regarded with interest, for the sounds of the -'Dominant Trumpeter' go forth into all the ends of the earth. Mr. -Glaston, too, as son of the Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago, -was entitled to every token of respectful admiration, even if he had not -in the fulness of his heart allowed a few of his pictures to be hung -in one of the reception rooms. But perhaps Daireen Gerald had more eyes -fixed upon her than anyone in the gardens. - -Everyone knew that she was the daughter of Colonel Gerald who had -just been gazetted Governor-General of the new colony of the Castaway -Islands, but why she had come out to the Cape no one seemed to know -exactly. Many romances were related to account for her appearance, the -Cape Town people possessing almost unlimited resources in the way of -romance making; but as no pains were taken to bring about a coincidence -of stories, it was impossible to say who was in the right. - -She was dressed so perfectly according to Mr. Glaston's theories of -harmony that he could not refrain from congratulating her--or rather -commending her--upon her good taste, though it struck Daireen that there -was not much good taste in his commendation. He remained by her side for -some time lamenting the degradation of the colony in being shut out from -Art--the only world worth living in, as he said; then Daireen found -herself with some other people to whom she had been presented, and who -were anxious to present her to some relations. - -The girl's dress was looked at by most of the colonial young ladies, -and her figure was gazed at by all of the men, until it was generally -understood that to have made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald was a -happiness gained. - -'My dear George,' said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel Gerald when she -had contrived to draw him to her side at a secluded part of the -gardens,--'My dear George, she is far more of a success than even -I myself anticipated. Why, the darling child is the centre of all -attraction.' - -'Poor little Dolly! that is not a very dizzy point to reach at the Cape, -is it, Kate?' - -'Now don't be provoking, George. We all know well enough, of course, -that it is here the same as at any place else: the latest arrival has -the charm of novelty. But it is not so in Daireen's case. I can see at -once--and I am sure you will give me credit for some power of perception -in these things--that she has created a genuine impression. George, -you may depend on her receiving particular attention on all sides.' The -lady's voice lowered confidentially until her last sentence had in it -something of the tone of a revelation. - -'That will make the time pass in a rather lively way for Dolly,' said -George, pulling his long iron-grey moustache as he smiled thoughtfully, -looking into Mrs. Crawford's face. - -'Now, George, you must fully recognise the great responsibility resting -with you--I certainly feel how much devolves upon myself, being as I am, -her father's oldest friend in the colony, and having had the dear child -in my care during the voyage.' - -'Nothing could be stronger than your claims.' - -'Then is it not natural that I should feel anxious about her, George? -This is not India, you must remember.' - -'No, no,' said the colonel thoughtfully; 'it's not India.' He was trying -to grasp the exact thread of reasoning his old friend was using in her -argument. He could not at once see why the fact of Cape Town not being -situated in the Empire of Hindustan should cause one's responsible -duties to increase in severity. - -'You know what I mean, George. In India marriage is marriage, and a -certain good, no matter who is concerned in it. It is one's duty there -to get a girl married, and there is no blame to be attached to one if -everything doesn't turn out exactly as one could have wished.' - -'Ah, yes, exactly,' said the colonel, beginning to comprehend. 'But I -think you have not much to reproach yourself with, Kate; almost every -mail brought you out an instalment of the youth and beauty of home, and -I don't think that one ever missed fire--failed to go off, you know.' - -'Well, yes, I may say I was fortunate, George,' she replied, with a -smile of reflective satisfaction. 'But this is not India, George; we -must be very careful. I observed Daireen carefully on the voyage, and I -can safely say that the dear child has yet formed no attachment.' - -'Formed an attachment? You mean--oh Kate, the idea is too absurd,' said -Colonel Gerald. 'Why, she is a child--a baby.' - -'Of course all fathers think such things about their girls,' said the -lady with a pitying smile. 'They understand their boys well enough, and -take good care to make them begin to work not a day too late, but their -girls are all babies. Why, George, Daireen must be nearly twenty.' - -Colonel Gerald was thoughtful for some moments. 'So she is,' he said; -'but she is still quite a baby.' - -'Even so,' said the lady, 'a baby's tastes should be turned in the right -direction. By the way, I have been asked frequently who is this young -Mr. MacDermot who came out to you in such a peculiar fashion. People are -beginning to talk curiously about him.' - -'As people at the Cape do about everyone,' said the colonel. 'Poor -Standish might at least have escaped criticism.' - -'I scarcely think so, George, considering how he came out.' - -'Well, it was rather what people who do not understand us call an Irish -idea. Poor boy!' - -'Who is he, George?' 'The son of one of our oldest friends. The -friendship has existed between his family and mine for some hundreds of -years.' - -'Why did he come out to the Cape in that way?' - -'My dear Kate, how can I tell you everything?' said the puzzled colonel. -'You would not understand if I were to try and explain to you how -this Standish MacDermot's father is a genuine king, whose civil list -unfortunately does not provide for the travelling expenses of the -members of his family, so that the young man thought it well to set out -as he did.' 'I hope you are not imposing on me, George. Well, I must -be satisfied, I suppose. By the way, you have not yet been to the room -where Mr. Glaston's pictures are hung; we must not neglect to see them. -Mr. Glaston told me just now he thought Daireen's taste perfect.' - -'That was very kind of Mr. Glaston.' - -'If you knew him as I do, George--in fact as he is known in the most -exclusive drawing-rooms in London--you would understand how much his -commendation is worth,' said Mrs. Crawford. - -'I have no doubt of it. He must come out to us some evening to dinner. -For his father's sake I owe him some attention, if not for his remark to -you just now.' - -'I hope you may not forget to ask him,' said Mrs. Crawford. 'He is -a most remarkable young man. Of course he is envied by the less -accomplished, and you may hear contradictory reports about him. But, -believe me, he is looked upon in London as the leader of the most -fashionable--that is--the most--not most learned--no, the most artistic -set in town. Very exclusive they are, but they have done ever so much -good--designing dados, you know, and writing up the new pomegranate -cottage wall-paper.' - -'I am afraid that Mr. Glaston will find my Hutch cottage deficient in -these elements of decoration,' remarked the colonel. - -'I wanted to talk to you about him for a long time,' said Mrs. Crawford. -'Not knowing how you might regard the subject, I did not think it -well to give him too much encouragement on the voyage, George, so that -perhaps he may have thought me inclined to repel him, Daireen being in -my care; but I am sure that all may yet be well. Hush! who is it that -is laughing so loud? they are coming this way. Ah, Mr. Markham and -that little Lottie Vincent. Good gracious, how long that girl is in the -field, and how well she wears her age! Doesn't she look quite juvenile?' - -Colonel Gerald could not venture an answer before the young lady, who -was the eldest daughter of the deputy surgeon-general, tripped -up to Mrs. Crawford, and cried, clasping her four-button -strawberry-ice-coloured gloves over the elder lady's plump arm, -'Dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have come to you in despair to beg your -assistance. Promise me that you will do all you can to help me.' 'If -your case is so bad, Lottie, I suppose I must. But what am I to do?' - -'You are to make Mr. Markham promise that he will take part in our -theatricals next month. He can act--I know he can act like Irving or -Salvini or Terry or Mr. Bancroft or some of the others, and yet he will -not promise to take any part. Could anything be more cruel?' - -'Nothing, unless I were to take some part,' said Mr. Markham, laughing. - -'Hush, sir,' cried the young lady, stamping her Pinet shoe upon -the ground, and taking care in the action to show what a remarkably -well-formed foot she possessed. - -'It is cruel of you to refuse a request so offered, Mr. Markham,' said -Mrs. Crawford. 'Pray allow yourself to be made amenable to reason, and -make Miss Vincent happy for one evening.' - -'Since you put it as a matter of reason, Mrs. Crawford, there is, I -fear, no escape for me,' said Mr. Markham. - -'Didn't I talk to you about reason, sir?' cried the young lady in very -pretty mock anger. - -'You talked _about_ it,' said Markham, 'just as we walked about that -centre bed of cactus, we didn't once touch upon it, you know. You talk -very well about a subject, Miss Vincent.' - -'Was there ever such impertinence? Mrs. Crawford, isn't it dreadful? But -we have secured him for our cast, and that is enough. You will take a -dozen tickets of course, Colonel Gerald?' - -'I can confidently say the object is most worthy,' said Markham. - -'And he doesn't know what it is yet,' said Lottie. - -'That's why I can confidently recommend it.' - -'Now do give me five minutes with Colonel Gerald, like a good dear,' -cried the young lady to Mrs. Crawford! 'I must persuade him.' - -'We are going to see Mr. Glaston's pictures,' replied Mrs. Crawford. - -'How delightful! That is what I have been so anxious to do all the -afternoon: one feels so delightfully artistic, you know, talking about -pictures; and people think one knows all about them. Do let us go with -you, Mrs. Crawford. I can talk to Colonel Gerald while you go on with -Mr. Markham.' - -'You are a sad little puss,' said Mrs. Crawford, shaking her finger at -the artless and ingenuous maiden; and as she walked on with Mr. Markham -she could not help remembering how this little puss had caused herself -to be pretty hardly spoken about some ten years before at the Arradambad -station in the Himalayahs. - -How well she was wearing her age to be sure, Mrs. Crawford thought. -It is not many young ladies who, after ten years' campaigning, can -be called sad little pusses; but Miss Vincent still looked quite -juvenile--in fact, _plus Arabe qu'en Arabie_--more juvenile than a -juvenile. Everyone knew her and talked of her in various degrees of -familiarity; it was generally understood that an acquaintanceship of -twenty-four hours' duration was sufficient to entitle any field officer -to call her by the abbreviated form of her first name, while a week was -the space allowed to subalterns. - - -END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - -***** This file should be named 51936-0.txt or 51936-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/3/51936/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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