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diff --git a/old/51944-0.txt b/old/51944-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3017cb9..0000000 --- a/old/51944-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4616 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gray Eye or So, 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: A Gray Eye or So - In Three Volumes--Volume I - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51944] -Last Updated: November 15, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Author of “I Forbid The Banns,” “Dalreen,” “Sojourners Together,” - “Highways And High Seas,” Etc. - -In Three Volumes--Volume I - -Sixth Edition - -London: Hutchinson & Co., 34 Paternoster Row - - -1893 - - -[Illustration: 0007] - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO - - - - -CHAPTER I.--ON CERTAIN ABSTRACTIONS. - - -I WAS talking about woman in the abstract,” said Harold. - -The other, whose name was Edmund--his worst enemies had never -abbreviated it--smiled, lifted his eyes unto the hills as if in search -of something, frowned as if he failed to find it, smiled a cat’s-paw of -a smile--a momentary crinkle in the region of the eyes--twice his lips -parted as if he were about to speak; then he gave a laugh--the laugh of -a man who finds that for which he has been searching. - -“Woman in the abstract?” said he. “Woman in the abstract? My dear -Harold, there is no such thing as woman in the abstract. When you talk -about Woman enthusiastically, you are talking about the woman you love; -when you talk about Woman cynically, you are talking about the woman who -won’t love you.” - -“Maybe your honours never heard tell of Larry O’Leary?” said the -Third--for there was a Third, and his name was Brian; his duty was to -row the boat, and this duty he interpreted by making now and again an -elaborate pretence of rowing, which deceived no one. - -“That sounds well,” said Harold; “but do you want it to be applied? -Do you want a test case of the operation of your epigram--if it is an -epigram?” - -“A test case?” - -“Yes; I have heard you talk cynically about woman upon occasions. Does -that mean that you have been unloved by many?” - -Again the man called Edmund looked inquiringly up the purple slope of -the hill. - -“You’re a wonderful clever gentleman,” said Brian, as if communing with -himself, “a wonderful gentleman entirely! Isn’t he after casting his -eyes at the very spot where old Larry kept his still?” - -“No,” said Edmund; “I have never spoken cynically of women. To do so -would be to speak against my convictions. I have great hope of Woman.” - -“Yes; our mothers and sisters are women,” said Harold. “That makes -us hopeful of women. Now we are back in the wholesome regions of the -abstract once more, so that we have talked in a circle and are precisely -where we started, only that I have heard for the first time that you are -hopeful of Woman.” - -“That’s enough for one day,” said Edmund. - -“Quite,” said Harold. - -“You must know that in the old days the Excise police looked after the -potheen--the Royal Irish does it now,” said the Third. “Well, as I say, -in the old days there was a reward of five pounds given by the Excisemen -for the discovery of a private still. Now Larry had been a regular hero -at transforming the innocent smiling pratie into the drink that’s the -curse of the country, God bless it! But he was too wary a lad for the -police, and he rolled keg after keg down the side of Slieve Gorm. At -last the worm of his still got worn out--they do wear out after a dozen -years or so of stiff work--and people noticed that Larry was wearing out -too, just through thinking of where he’d get the three pound ten to buy -the new machinery. They tried to cheer him up, and the decent boys was -so anxious to give him heart that there wasn’t such a thing as a sober -man to be found in all the country side. But though the brave fellows -did what they could for him, it was no use. He never got within three -pound five of the three pound ten that he needed. But just as things was -at their worst, they mended. Larry was his old self again, and the word -went round that the boys might get sober by degrees. - -“Now what did our friend Larry do, if you please, but take his old -worn-out still and hide it among the heather of the hill fornenst -us--Slieve Glas is its name--and then he goes the same night to the -Excise officer, in the queer secret way. - -“‘I’m in a bad way for money, or it’s not me that would be after turning -informer,’ says he, when he had told the officer that he knew where the -still was concealed. - -“‘That’s the worst of you all,’ says the officer. ‘You’ll not inform on -principle, but only because you’re in need of money.’ - -“‘More’s the pity, sir,’ says Larry. - -“‘Where’s the still?’ says the officer. - -“‘If I bring you to it,’ says Larry, ‘it must be kept a dead secret, for -the owner is the best friend I have in the world.’ - -“‘You’re a nice chap to inform on your best friend,’ says the officer. - -“‘I’ll never be able to look at him straight in the face after, and -that’s the truth,’ says Larry. - -“Well, your honours, didn’t Larry lead the officer and a couple of the -Excisemen up the hill in the dark of the early morning, and sure enough -they came upon the old still, hid among the heather. It was captured, -and Larry got the five pound reward, and was able to buy a brand-new -still with the money, besides having thirty shillings to the good in his -pocket. After that, was it any wonder that he became one of the greatest -informers in the country? By the Powers, he made a neat thing out of -the business of leading the officers to his own stills and pocketing the -reward. He was thirty shillings to the good every time. Ah, Larry was a -boy!” - -“So I judge,” said the man called Edmund, with an unaffected laugh--he -had studied the art of being unaffected. “But you see, it was not of the -Man but of the Woman we were talking.” - -“That’s why I thought that the change would be good for your honours,” - remarked Brian. “When gentlemen that I’ve out in this boat with me, -begin to talk together in a way that has got no sense in it at all, I -know that they’re talking about a woman, and I tell them the story of -Larry O’Leary.” - -Neither the man called Edmund, nor the man called Harold, talked any -more that day upon Woman as a topic. - - - - -CHAPTER II.--ON A GREAT HOPE. - -I THINK you remarked that you had great hope of Woman,” said Harold, -the next day. The boat had drifted once again into the centre of the -same scene, and there seemed to be a likelihood of at least two of the -boat’s company drifting back to the topic of the previous afternoon. - -“Yes, you certainly admitted that you had great hope of Woman.” - -“And so I have. Woman felt, long ago; she is beginning to feel again.” - -“You don’t think that feeling is being educated out of her? I certainly -have occasional suspicions that this process is going on. Why, just -think of the Stafford girl. She can tell you at a moment’s notice -the exact difference between an atheist, an infidel, an agnostic, a -freethinker, and the Honest Doubter.” - -“She has been reading modern fiction--that’s all. No, I don’t think that -what is called education makes much difference to a woman. After all, -what does this thing called education mean? It simply means that a girl -can read all the objectionable passages of the ancient poets without the -need of a translation. I have hope of Woman because she is frequently so -intensely feminine.” - -“Maybe you never heard tell of how the Widdy MacDermott’s cabin came to -be a ruin,” said the Third. - -“Feeling and femininity will, shall I say, transform woman into our -ideal?” said Harold. - -“Transform is too strong a word,” said Edmund. “And as for our ideal, -well, every woman is the ideal of some man for a time.” - -“And that truth shows not only how lowly is the ideal of some men, but -also how unwise it is to attempt to speak of woman in the abstract. I -begin to think that what you said yesterday had a grain of truth in it, -though it was an epigram.” - -“The Widdy MacDermott--oh, the Widdy Mac-Dermott,” said the Third, as -though repeating the burden of a ballad. “They made a pome about her -in Irish, that was near as full of nonsense as if it had been in the -English. You see when Tim, her husband, went to glory he left the cow -behind him, taking thought for the need of his widdy, though she hadn’t -been a widdy when he was acquainted with her. Well, your honours, the -byre was a trifle too near the edge of the bog hole, so that when one -end fell out, there wasn’t much of the mud walls that stood. Then one -blessed morning the childer came running into the cabin to tell their -mother that the cow was sitting among the ruins of its home.” - -“A Marius of the farmyard,” remarked Edmund. - -“Likely enough, sir. Anyhow, there she sat as melancholy as if she was -a Christian. Of course, as the winter was well for’ard it wouldn’t do to -risk her life by leaving her to wander about the bogs, so they drove -her into the cabin--it was a tight fit for her, passing through the -door--she could just get in and nothing to spare; but when she was -inside it was warm and comfortable that the same cow made the cabin, -and the childer were wondering at the end of a month how they could -have been such fools as to shiver through the winter while the cow was -outside. - -“In another month some fine spring days came, and the cabin was a bit -close and stuffy with the cow inside, and the widdy herself turned the -animal’s head to the door and went to drive her out for exercise and -ventilation. But the way the beast had been fed and petted told upon -her, and by the Powers, if she didn’t stick fast in the doorway. - -“They leathered her in the cabin and they coaxed her from outside, but -it was all of no use. The craythur stood jammed in the door, while the -childer crawled in and out of the cabin among her hind legs--the fore -legs was half a cow’s length outside. That was the situation in the -middle of the day, and all the neighbours was standing round giving -advice, and calling in to the widdy herself--who, of course, was a -prisoner in the cabin--not to lose heart. - -“‘It’s not heart I’m afeard of losing--it’s the cow,’ says she. - -“Well, your honours, the evening was coming on, but no change in the -situation of affairs took place, and the people of the country-side was -getting used to the appearance of the half cow projecting beyond the -door of the cabin, and to think that maybe, after all, it was nothing -outside the ordinary course of events, when Barney M’Bratney, who does -the carpentering at the Castle, came up the road. - -“He took in the situation with the glance of the perfessional man, and -says he, ‘By the Powers, its a case of the cow or the cabin. Which would -ye rather be after losing, Widdy?’ - -“‘The cabin by all means,’ says she. - -“‘You’re right, my good woman,’ says he. ‘Come outside with you.’ - -“Well, your honours, the kindly neighbours hauled the widdy outside over -the back of the cow, and then with a crowbar Barney attacked the walls -on both sides of the door. In ten minutes the cow was free, but the -cabin was a wreck. - -“Of course his lardship built it up again stronger than it ever was, -but as he wouldn’t make the door wide enough to accommodate the cow--he -offered to build a byre for her, but that wasn’t the same--he has never -been so respected as he was before in the neighbourhood of Ballyboreen.” - -“That’s all very well as a story,” said Edmund; “but you see we were -talking on the subject of the advantages of the higher education of -woman.” - -“True for you, sir,” said Brian. “And if the Widdy MacDermott had been -born with eddication would she have let her childer to sleep with the -cow?” - -“Harold,” said Edmund, “there are many side lights upon the general -question of the advantages of culture in women.” - -“And the story of the Widdy MacDermott is one of them?” said Harold. - -“When I notice that gentlemen that come out in the boat with me begin -to talk on contentious topics, I tell them the story of how the Widdy -MacDermott’s cabin was wrecked,” said Brian. - - - - -CHAPTER III.--ON HONESTY AND THE WORKING MAN. - -DON’T you think,” remarked Edmund, the next day, as the boat drifted -under the great cliffs, and Brian was discharging with great ability -his normal duty of resting on his oars. “Don’t you think that you should -come to business without further delay?” - -“Come to business?” said Harold. - -“Yes. Two days ago you lured me out in this coracle to make a -communication to me that I judged would have some bearing upon your -future course of life. You began talking of Woman with a touch of -fervour in your voice. You assured me that you were referring only to -woman in the abstract, and when I convinced you--I trust I convinced -you--that woman in the abstract has no existence, you got frightened--as -frightened as a child would be, if the thing that it has always -regarded as a doll were to wink suddenly, suggesting that it had an -individuality, if not a distinction of its own--that it should no longer -be included among the vague generalities of rags and bran. Yesterday you -began rather more boldly. The effects of education upon the development -of woman, the probability that feeling would survive an intimate -acquaintance with Plato in the original. Why not take another onward -step today? In short, who is she?” - -Harold laughed--perhaps uneasily. - -“I’m not without ambition,” said he. - -“I know that. What form does your ambition take? A colonial judgeship, -after ten years of idleness at the bar? A success in literature that -shall compensate you for the favourable criticisms of double that -period? The ownership of the Derby winner? An American heiress, moving -in the best society in Monte Carlo? A co-respondency in brackets with a -Countess? All these are the legitimate aspirations of the modern man.” - -“Co-respondency as a career has, no doubt, much to recommend it to some -tastes,” said Harold. “It appears to me, however, that it would be easy -for an indiscreet advocate to over-estimate its practical value.” - -“You haven’t been thinking about it?” - -“You see, I haven’t yet met the countess.” - -“What, then, in heaven’s name do you hope for?” - -“Well, I would say Parliament, if I could be sure that that came within -the rather narrow restrictions which you assigned to my reply. You said -‘in heaven’s name.’” - -“Parliament! Parliament! Great Powers! is it so bad as that with you?” - -“I don’t say that it is. I may be able to get over this ambition as I’ve -got over others--the stroke oar in the Eight, for instance, the soul of -Sarasate, the heart of Miss Polly Floss of the Music Halls. Up to the -present, however, I have shown no sign of parting with the surviving -ambition of many ambitions.” - -“I don’t say that you’re a fool,” said the man called Edmund. He did not -speak until the long pause, filled up by the great moan of the Atlantic -in the distance and the hollow fitful plunge of the waters upon the -rocks of the Irish shore, had become awkwardly long. “I can’t say that -you’re a fool.” - -“That’s very good of you, old chap.” - -“No; I can’t conscientiously say that you’re a fool.” - -“Again? This is becoming cloying. If I don’t mistake, you yourself do a -little in the line I suggest.” - -“What would be wisdom--comparative wisdom--on my part, might be -idiotcy--” - -“Comparative idiotcy?” - -“Sheer idiotcy, on yours. I have several thousands a year, and I can -almost--not quite--but I affirm, almost, afford to talk honestly to the -Working man. No candidate for Parliament can quite afford to be honest -to the Working man.” - -“And the Working man returns the compliment, only he works it off on the -general public,” said Harold. - -The other man smiled pityingly upon him--the smile of the professor of -anatomy upon the student who identifies a thigh bone--the smile which -the _savant_ allows himself when brought in contact with a discerner of -the obvious. - -“No woman is quite frank in her prayers--no politician is quite honest -with the Working man.” - -“Well. I am prepared to be not quite honest with him too.” - -“You may believe yourself equal even to that; but it’s not so easy as -it sounds. There is an art in not being quite honest. However, that’s a -detail.” - -“I humbly venture so to judge it.” - -“The main thing is to get returned.” - -“The main thing is, as you say, to get the money.” - -“The money?” - -“Perhaps I should have said the woman.” - -“The woman? the money? Ah, that brings us round again in the same circle -that we traversed yesterday, and the day before. I begin to perceive.” - -“I had hope that you would--in time.” - -“I shouldn’t wonder if we heard the Banshee after dark,” said the Third. - -“You are facing things boldly, my dear Harold,” said Edmund. - -“What’s the use of doing anything else?” inquired Harold. “You know how -I am situated.” - -“I know your father.” - -“That is enough. He writes to me that he finds it impossible to continue -my allowance on its present scale. His expenses are daily increasing, he -says. I believe him.” - -“Too many people believe in him,” said Edmund. “I have never been among -them.” - -“But you can easily believe that his expenses are daily increasing.” - -“Oh, yes, I am easily credulous on that point. Does he go the length of -assigning any reason for the increase?” - -“It’s perfectly preposterous--he has no notion of the responsibilities -of fatherhood--of the propriety of its limitations so far as an exchange -of confidences is concerned. Why, if it were the other way--if I were to -write to tell him that I was in love, I would feel a trifle awkward--I -would think it almost indecent to quote poetry--Swinburne--something -about crimson mouths.” - -“I dare say; but your father--” - -“He writes to tell me that he is in love.” - -“In love?” - -“Yes, with some--well, some woman.” - -“Some woman? I wonder if I know her husband.” There was a considerable -pause. - -Brian pointed a ridiculous, hooked forefinger toward a hollow that from -beneath resembled a cave, half-way up the precipitous wall of cliffs. - -“That’s where she comes on certain nights of the year. She stands at the -entrance to that cave, and cries for her lover as she cried that night -when she came only to find his dead body,” said Brian, neutralizing the -suggested tragedy in his narrative by keeping exhibited that comical -crook in his index finger. “Ay, your honours, it’s a quare story of -pity.” Both his auditors looked first at his face, then at the crook in -his finger, and laughed. They declined to believe in the pity of it. - -“It is preposterous,” said Harold. “He writes to me that he never quite -knew before what it was to love. He knows it now, he says, and as it’s -more expensive than he ever imagined it could be, he’s reluctantly -compelled to cut down my allowance. Then it is that he begins to talk of -the crimson mouth--I fancy it’s followed by something about the passion -of the fervid South--so like my father, but like no other man in the -world. He adds that perhaps one day I may also know ‘what’tis to love.’” - -“At present, however, he insists on your looking at that form of -happiness through another man’s eyes? Your father loves, and you are to -learn--approximately--what it costs, and pay the expenses.” - -“That’s the situation of the present hour. What am I to do?” - -“Marry Helen Craven.” - -“That’s brutally frank, at any rate.” - -“You see, you’re not a working man with a vote. I can afford to be frank -with you. Of course, that question which you have asked me is the one -that was on your mind two days ago, when you began to talk about what -you called ‘woman in the abstract.’” - -“I dare say it was. We have had two stories from Brian in the meantime.” - -“My dear Harold, your case is far from being unique. Some of its -elements may present new features, but, taken as a whole, it is -commonplace. You have ambition, but you have also a father.” - -“So far I am in line with the commonplace.” - -“You cannot hope to realize your aims without money, and the only way by -which a man can acquire a large amount of money suddenly, is by a deal -on the Stock Exchange or at Monte Carlo, or by matrimony. The last is -the safest.” - -“There’s no doubt about that. But--” - -“Yes, I know what’s in your mind. I’ve read the scene between Captain -Absolute and his father in ‘The Rivals’--I read countless fictions up to -the point where the writers artlessly introduce the same scene, then I -throw away the books. With the examples we have all had of the -success of the _mariage de convenance_ and of the failure of the -_mariage d’amour_ it is absurd to find fault with the Johnsonian -dictum about marriages made by the Lord Chancellor.” - -“I suppose not,” said Harold. “Only I don’t quite see why, if Dr. -Johnson didn’t believe that marriages were made in heaven, there was any -necessity for him to run off to the other extreme.” - -“He merely said, I fancy, that a marriage arranged by the Lord -Chancellor was as likely to turn out happily as one that was--well, made -in heaven, if you insist on the phrase. Heaven, as a match-maker, has -much to learn.” - -“Then it’s settled,” said Harold, with an affectation of cynicism -that amused his friend and puzzled Brian, who had ears. “I’ll have to -sacrifice one ambition in order to secure the other.” - -“I think that you’re right,” said Edmund. “You’re not in love just -now--so much is certain.” - -“Nothing could be more certain,” acquiesced Harold, with a laugh. “And -now I suppose it is equally certain that I never shall be.” - -“Nothing of the sort. That cynicism which delights to suggest that -marriage is fatal to love, is as false as it is pointless. Let any man -keep his eyes open and he will see that marriage is the surest guarantee -that exists of the permanence of love.” - -“Just as an I O U is a guarantee--it’s a legal form. The money can be -legally demanded.” - -“You are a trifle obscure in your parallel,” remarked Edmund. - -“I merely suggested that the marriage ceremony is an I O U for the debt -which is love. Oh, this sort of beating about a question and making it -the subject of phrases can lead nowhere. Never mind. I believe that, on -the whole, the grain of advice which I have acquired out of your bushel -of talk, is good, and is destined to bear good fruit. I’ll have my -career in the world, that my father may learn ‘what’tis to love.’ My -mind is made up. Come, Brian, to the shore!” - -“Not till I tell your honour the story of the lovely young Princess -Fither,” said the boatman, assuming a sentimental expression that was -extremely comical. - -“Brian, Prince of Storytellers, let it be brief,” said Edmund. - -“It’s to his honour I’m telling this story, not to your honour, Mr. -Airey,” said Brian. “You’ve a way of wrinkling up your eyes, I notice, -when you speak that word ‘love,’ and if you don’t put your tongue in -your cheek when anyone else comes across that word accidental-like, you -put your tongue in your cheek when you’re alone, and when you think over -what has been said.” - -“Why, you’re a student of men as well as an observer of nature, O -Prince,” laughed Edmund. - -“No, I’ve only eyes and ears,” said Brian, in a deprecating tone. - -“And a certain skill in narrative,” said Harold. “What about the -beauteous Princess Fither? What dynasty did she belong to?” - -“She belonged to Cashelderg,” replied Brian. “A few stones of the ruin -may still be seen, if you’ve any imagination, on the brink of the cliff -that’s called Carrigorm--you can just perceive its shape above the cove -where his lordship’s boathouse is built.” - -“Yes; I see the cliff--just where a castle might at one time have been -built. And that’s the dynasty that she belonged to?” said Harold. - -“The same, sir. And on our side you may still see--always supposing that -you have the imagination--” - -“Of course, nothing imaginary can be seen without the aid of the -imagination.” - -“You may see the ruins of what might have been Cashel-na-Mara, where the -Macnamara held his court--Mac na Mara means Son of the Waves, you must -know.” - -“It’s a matter of notoriety,” said Edmund. - -“The Macnamaras and the Casheldergs were the deadliest of enemies, and -hardly a day passed for years--maybe centuries--without some one of the -clan getting the better of the other. Maybe that was how the surplus -population was kept down in these parts. Anyhow there was no talk, so -far as I’ve heard, of congested districts in them days. Well, sir, it -so happened that the Prince of the Macnamaras was a fine, handsome, and -brave young fellow, and the Princess Fither of Cashelderg was the most -beautiful of Irish women, and that’s saying a good deal. As luck would -have it, the young people came together. Her boat was lost in a fog one -night and drifting upon the sharp rocks beyond the headland. The cries -of the poor girl were heard on both sides of the Lough--the blessed -Lough where we’re now floating--but no one was brave enough to put out -to the rescue of the Princess--no one, did I say? Who is it that makes a -quick leap off the cliffs into the rolling waters beneath? He fights his -way, strong swimmer that he is! through the surge, and, unseen by any -eye by reason of the fog, he reaches the Princess’s boat. Her cries -cease. And a keen arises along the cliffs of Carrigorm, for her friends -think that she has been swallowed up in the cruel waves. The keen goes -on, but it’s sudden changed into a shout of joy; for a noble young -figure appears as if by magic on the cliff head, and places the precious -burden of her lovely daughter in the arms of her weeping mother, and -then vanishes.” - -“And so the feud was healed, and if they didn’t live happy, we may,” - said Edmund. - -“That’s all you know about the spirit of an ancient Irish family -quarrel,” said Brian pityingly. “No, sir. The brave deed of the young -Prince only made the quarrel the bitterer. But the young people had -fallen in love with each other, and they met in secret in that cave that -you see there just above us--the Banshee’s Cave, it’s called to this -day. The lovely Princess put off in her boat night after night, and -climbed the cliff face--there was no path in them days--to where her -lover was waiting for her in the cave. But at last some wretch unworthy -of the name of a man got to learn the secret and told it to the -Princess’s father. With half-a-dozen of the clan he lay in wait for the -young Prince in the cave, and they stabbed him in twelve places with -their daggers. And even while they were doing the murder, the song -of the Princess was heard, telling her lover that she was coming. -She climbed the face of the cliff and with a laugh ran into the -trysting-place. She stumbled over the body of her lover. Her father -stole out of the darkness of the cave and grasped her by the wrist. -Then there rang out over the waters the cry, which still sounds on some -nights from a cave--the cry of the girl when she learned the truth--the -cry of the girl as, with a superhuman effort, she released herself from -her father’s iron grasp, and sprang from the head of the cliff you see -there above, into the depths of the waters where we’re now floating.” - -There was a pause before Edmund remarked, “Your story of the -Montague-Macnamaras and the Capulet-Casheldergs is a sad one, Brian. And -you have heard the cry of the young Princess with your own ears, I dare -say?” - -“That I have, your honour. And it’s the story of the young Princess -Fither and her lover that I tell to gentlemen that put their tongues -in their cheeks when they’re alone, and thinking of the way the less -knowing ones talk of love and the heart of a woman.” - -Both Edmund and Harold began to think that perhaps the Irish boatman was -a shrewder and a more careful listener than they had given him. - - - - -CHAPTER IV.--ON FABLES. - -VERY amusing indeed was Edmund’s parody of the boatman’s -wildly-romantic story. The travesty was composed for the benefit of Miss -Craven, and the time of its communication was between the courses of the -very excellent dinner which Lord Innisfail had provided for his numerous -guests at his picturesque Castle overlooking Lough Suangorm--that -magnificent fjord on the West Coast of Ireland. Lord Innisfail was a -true Irishman. When he was away from Ireland he was ever longing to be -back in it, and when he was in Ireland he was ever trying to get away -from it. The result of his patriotism was a residence of a month in -Connaught in the autumn, and the rest of the year in Connaught Square or -Monte Carlo. He was accustomed to declare--in England--that Ireland -and the Irish were magnificent. If this was his conviction, his -self-abnegation, displayed by carefully avoiding both, except during a -month every year, was all the greater. - -And yet no one ever gave him credit for possessing the virtue of -self-abnegation. - -He declared--in England--that the Irish race was the finest on the face -of the earth, and he invariably filled his Castle with Englishmen. - -He was idolized by his Irish tenantry, and they occasionally left a few -birds for his guests to shoot on his moors during the latter days of -August. - -Lord Innisfail was a man of about fifty years of age. His wife was -forty and looked twenty-five: their daughter was eighteen and looked -twenty-four. - -Edmund Airey, who was trying to amuse Miss Craven by burlesquing the -romance of the Princess Fither, was the representative in Parlament of -an English constituency. His father had been in business--some people -said on the Stock Exchange, which would be just the opposite. He had, -however, died leaving his son a considerable fortune extremely well -invested--a fact which tended strongly against the Stock Exchange -theory. His son showed no desire to go on the turf or to live within -reach to the European gaming-table. If there was any truth in the Stock -Exchange theory, this fact tended to weaken the doctrine of heredity. - -He had never blustered on the subject of his independence of thought or -action. He had attached himself unobtrusively to the Government party -on entering Parlament, and he had never occasioned the Whips a moment’s -anxiety during the three years that had elapsed since the date of his -return. He was always found in the Government Lobby in a division, and -he was thus regarded by the Ministers as an extremely conscientious -man. This is only another way of saying that he was regarded by the -Opposition as an extremely unscrupulous man. - -His speeches were brief, but each of them contained a phrase which told -against the Opposition. He was wise enough to refrain from introducing -into any speech so doubtful an auxiliary as argument, in his attempts -to convince the Opposition that they were in the wrong. He had the good -sense to perceive early in his career that argument goes for nothing in -the House of Commons, but that trusted Governments have been turned out -of office by a phrase. This power of perception induced him to cultivate -the art of phrase-making. His dexterity in this direction had now -and again made the Opposition feel uncomfortable; and as making the -Opposition feel uncomfortable embodies the whole science of successful -party-government in England, it was generally assumed that, if the -Opposition could only be kept out of power after the General Election, -Edmund Airey would be rewarded by an Under-Secretaryship. - -He was a year or two under forty, tall, slender, and so -distinguished-looking that some people--they were not his friends--were -accustomed to say that it was impossible that he could ever attain to -political distinction. - -He assured Miss Craven that, sitting in the stern sheets of the boat, -idly rocking on the smooth swell that rolled through the Lough from the -Atlantic, was by far the most profitable way of spending two hours of -the afternoon. Miss Craven doubted if this was a fact. “Where did the -profit come in except to the boatman?” she inquired. - -Mr. Airey, who knew that Miss Craven was anxious to know if Harold had -been of the profitable boating-party, had no idea of allowing his powers -of travesty to be concealed by the account, for which the young woman -was longing, of Harold and the topics upon which he had conversed. He -assured her that it was eminently profitable for anyone interested in -comparative mythology, to be made acquainted with the Irish equivalent -to the Mantuan fable. - -“Fable!” almost shrieked Miss Craven. “Mantuan fable! Do you mean to -suggest that there never was a Romeo and Juliet?” - -“On the contrary, I mean to say that there have been several,” said Mr. -Airey. “They exist in all languages. I have come unexpectedly upon them -in India, then in Japan, afterwards they turned up, with some delicate -Maori variations, in New Zealand when I was there. I might have been -prepared for them at such a place as this You know how the modern -melodramas are made, Miss Craven?” - -“I have read somewhere, but I forget. And you sat alone in the boat -smoking, while the boatman droned out his stories?” remarked the young -woman, refusing a cold _entrée_. - -“I will tell you how the melodramas are made,” said Mr. Airey, refusing -to be led up to Harold as a topic. “The artist paints several effective -pictures of scenery and then one of the collaborateurs--the man who -can’t write, for want of the grammar, but who knows how far to go with -the public--invents the situation to work in with the scenery. Last of -all, the man who has grammar--some grammar--fills in the details of the -story.” - -“Really! How interesting! And that’s how Shakespeare wrote ‘Romeo and -Juliet’? What a fund of knowledge you have, Mr. Airey!” - -Mr. Airey, by the method of his disclaimer, laid claim to a much larger -fund than any that Miss Craven had attributed to him. - -“I only meant to suggest that traditional romance is evolved on the same -lines,” said he, when his deprecatory head-shakes had ceased. “Given the -scenic effects of ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ the romance on the lines of ‘Romeo -and Juliet’ will be forthcoming, if you only wait long enough. When you -pay a visit to any romantic glen with a torrent--an amateurish copy of -an unknown Salvator Rosa--ask for the ‘Lover’s Leap’ and it will be -shown to you.” - -“I’ll try to remember.” - -“Given, as scenic details, the ruin of a Castle on one side of -the Lough, the ruin of a Castle on the other, and the names of the -hereditary enemies, the story comes naturally--quite as naturally--not -to say overmuch about it--as the story of the melodrama follows the -sketch of the scenic effects in the theatre. The transition from -Montague to Macnamara--from Capulet to Cashelderg is easy, and there -you are.” - -“And here we are,” laughed Miss Craven. “How delightful it is to be able -to work out a legend in that way, is it not, Mr. Durdan?” and she turned -to a man sitting at her left. - -“It’s quite delightful, I’m sure,” said Mr. Durdan. “But Airey is only -adapting the creed of his party to matters of everyday life. What people -say about his party is that they make a phrase first and then look out -for a policy to hang upon it. Government by phrase is what the country -is compelled to submit to.” - -Mr. Durdan was a prominent member of the Opposition. - - - - -CHAPTER V.--ON A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY. - -MISS CRAVEN laughed and watched Mr. Airey searching for a reply beneath -the frill of a Neapolitan ice. She did not mean that he should find -one. Her aim was that he should talk about Harold Wynne. The dinner had -reached its pianissimo passages, so to speak. It was dwindling away into -the _marrons glacés_ and _fondants_ stage, so she had not much time left -to her to find out if it was indeed with his friend Edmund Airey that -Harold had disappeared every afternoon. - -Edmund Airey knew what her aim was. He was a clever man, and he -endeavoured to frustrate it. Ten minutes afterwards he was amazed to -find that he had told her all that she wanted to know, and something -over, for he had told her that Harold was at present greatly interested -in the question of the advisability of a man’s entering public life by -the perilous causeway--the phrase was Edmund Airey’s--of matrimony. - -As he chose a cigar for himself--for there was a choice even among -Lord Innisfail’s cigars--he was actually amazed to find that the girl’s -purpose had been too strong for his resolution. He actually felt as if -he had betrayed his friend to the enemy--he actually put the matter in -this way in his moment of self-reproach. - -Before his cigar was well alight, however, he had become more reasonable -in his censorship of his own weakness. An enemy? Why, the young woman -was the best friend that Harold Wynne could possibly have. She was -young--that is, young enough--she was clever--had she not got the better -of Edmund Airey?--and, best of all, she was an heiress. - -“The perilous causeway of matrimony”--that was the phrase which had come -suddenly into his mind, and, in order to introduce it, he had sent the -girl away feeling that she was cleverer than he was. - -“The perilous causeway of matrimony,” he repeated. “With a handrail of -ten thousand a year--there is safety in that.” - -He looked down the long dining-hall, glistening with silver, to where -Harold stood facing the great window, the square of which framed a dim -picture of a mountain slope, purple with heather, that had snared the -last light of the sunken sun. The sea horizon cut upon the slope not far -from its summit, and in that infinity of Western distance there was a -dash of drifting crimson. - -Harold Wynne stood watching that picture of the mountain with the -Atlantic beyond, and Edmund watched him. - -There was a good deal of conversation flying about the room. The smokers -of cigarettes talked on a topic which they would probably have called -Art. The smokers of pipes explained in a circumstantial way, that -carried suspicion with it to the ears of all listeners, their splendid -failures to secure certain big fish during the day. The smokers of -cigars talked of the Horse and the House--mostly of the Horse. There -was a rather florid judge present--he had talked himself crimson to the -appreciative woman who had sat beside him at dinner, on the subject of -the previous racing-season, and now he was talking himself purple on the -subject of the future season. He had been at Castle Innisfail for three -days, and he had steadily refused to entertain the idea of talking -on any other subject than the Horse from the standpoint of a possible -backer. - -This was the judge, who, during the hearing of a celebrated case a few -months before--a case that had involved a reference to an event known -as the City and Suburban, inquired if that was the name of a Railway -Company. Hearing that it was a race, he asked if it was a horse race or -a dog race. - -Harold remained on his feet in front of the window, and Edmund remained -watching him until the streak of crimson had dwindled to a flaming Rahab -thread. The servants entered the room with coffee, and brought out many -subtle gleams from the old oak by lighting the candles in the silver -sconces. - -Every time that the door was opened, the sound of a human voice (female) -trying, but with indifferent success, to scale the heights of a -song that had been saleable by reason of its suggestions of -passion--drawing-room passion--saleable passion--fought its way through -the tobacco smoke of the dining-hall. Hearing it fitfully, such men as -might have felt inclined to leave half-smoked cigars for the sake of the -purer atmosphere of the drawingroom, became resigned to their immediate -surroundings. - -A whisper had gone round the table while dinner was in progress, that -Miss Stafford had promised--some people said threatened--to -recite something in the course of the evening. Miss Stafford was a -highly-educated young woman. She spoke French, German, Italian -and Spanish. This is only another way of saying that she could -be uninteresting in four languages. In addition to the ordinary -disqualifications of such young women, she recited a little--mostly -poems about early childhood, involving a lisp and a pinafore. She wished -to do duty as an object lesson of the possibility of combining with an -exhaustive knowledge of mathematical formulæ, the strongest instincts of -femininity. Mathematics and motherhood were not necessarily opposed to -one another, her teachers had assured the world, through the medium -of magazine articles. Formulæ and femininity went hand in hand, they -endeavoured to prove, through the medium of Miss Stafford’s recitations; -so she acquired the imaginary lisp of early childhood, and tore a -pinafore to shreds in the course of fifteen stanzas. - -It was generally understood among men that one of these recitations -amply repaid a listener for a careful avoidance of the apartment where -it took place. - -The threat that had been whispered round the dinner-table formed an -excuse for long tarrying in front of the coffee cups and Bénédictine. - -“Boys,” at length said Lord Innisfail, endeavouring to put on an -effective Irish brogue--he thought it was only due to Ireland to put on -a month’s brogue. “Boys, we’ll face it like men. Shall it be said in the -days to come that we ran away from a lisp and a pinafore?” Then suddenly -remembering that Miss Stafford was his guest, he became grave. “Her -father was my friend,” he said. “He rode straight. What’s the matter -with the girl? If she does know all about the binomial-theorem and -German philosophy, has she not some redeeming qualities? You needn’t -tell me that there’s not some good in a young woman who commits to -memory such stuff as that--that what’s its name--the little boy that’s -run over by a ‘bus or something or other and that lisps in consequence -about his pap-pa. No, you needn’t argue with me. It’s extremely kind of -her to offer to recite, and I will stand up for her, confound her! And -if anyone wants to come round with the Judge and me to the stables while -she’s reciting, now’s the time. Will you take another glass of claret, -Wynne?” - -“No, thank you,” said Harold. “I’m off to the drawing-room.” - -He followed the men who were straggling into the great square hall where -a billiard table occupied an insignificant space. The skeleton of an -ancient Irish elk formed a rather more conspicuous object in the hall, -and was occasionally found handy for the disposal of hats, rugs, and -overcoats. - -“She is greatly interested in the Romeo and Juliet story,” remarked -Edmund, strolling up to him. - -“She--who?” asked Harold. - -“The girl--the necessary girl. The--let us say, alternative. The--the -handrail.” - -“The handrail?” - -“Yes. Oh, I forgot: you were not within hearing. There was something -said about the perilous causeway of matrimony.” - -“And that suggested the handrail idea to you? No better idea ever -occurred even to you, O man of many ideas, and of still more numerous -phrases.” - -“She is responsive--she is also clever--she is uncommonly clever--she -got the better of me.” - -“Say no more about her cleverness.” - -“I will say no more about it. A man cannot go a better way about -checking an incipient passion for a young woman than by insisting on -her cleverness. We do not take to the clever ones. Our ideal does not -include a power of repartee.” - -“Incipient passion!” - -There was a suspicion of bitterness in Harold’s voice, as he repeated -the words of his friend. - -“Incipient passion! I think we had better go into the drawing-room.” - -They went into the drawing-room. - - - - -CHAPTER VI.--ON THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. - -MISS CRAVEN was sitting on a distant sofa listening, or pretending to -listen, which is precisely the same thing, with great earnestness to the -discourse of Mr. Durdan, who, besides being an active politician, had a -theory upon the question of what Ibsen meant by his “Master Builder.” - -Harold said a few words to Miss Innisfail, who was trying to damp her -mother’s hope of getting up a dance in the hall, but Lady Innisfail -declined to be suppressed even by her daughter, and had received -promises of support for her enterprise in influential quarters. Finding -that her mother was likely to succeed, the girl hastened away to entreat -one of her friends to play a “piece” on the pianoforte. - -She knew that she might safely depend upon the person to whom she -applied for this favour, to put a stop to her mother’s negotiations. -The lady performed in the old style. Under her hands the one instrument -discharged the office of several. The volume of sound suggested that -produced by the steam orchestra of a switchback railway. - -Harold glanced across the room and perceived that, while the performer -was tearing notes by the handful and flinging them about the place--up -in the air, against the walls--while her hands were worrying the bass -notes one moment like rival terrier puppies over a bone, and at other -times tickling the treble rather too roughly to be good fun--Miss -Craven’s companion had not abandoned the hope of making himself audible -if not intelligible. He had clearly accepted the challenge thrown down -by the performer. - -Harold perceived that a man behind him had furtively unlatched one of -the windows leading to the terrace, and was escaping by that means, and -not alone. From outside came the hearty laughter of the judge telling an -open-air story to his host. People looked anxiously toward the -window. Harold shook his head as though suggesting that that sort of -interruption must be put a stop to at once, and that he was the man to -do it. - -He went resolutely out through the window. - -“‘Which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court,’” said -Edmund, in the ear of Lady Innisfail. - -He spoke too soon. The judge’s laugh rolled along like the breaking of -a tidal wave. It was plain that Harold had not gone to remonstrate with -the judge. - -He had not. He had merely strolled round the terrace to the entrance -hall. Here he picked up one of the many caps which were hanging there, -and putting it on his head, walked idly away from the castle, hearing -only the floating eulogy uttered by the judge of a certain well-known -jockey who was, he said, the kindliest and most honourable soul that had -ever pulled the favourite. - -A longing had come to him to hurry as far as he could from the Castle -and its company--they were hateful to him just at that instant. The -shocking performance of the woman at the pianoforte, the chatter of his -fellow-guests, the delicate way in which his friend Edmund Airey made -the most indelicate allusions, the _nisi prius_ jocularity of the -judge--he turned away from all with a feeling of repulsion. - -And yet Lord Innisfail’s cook was beyond reproach as an artist. - -Harold Wynne had accepted the invitation of Lady Innisfail in cold -blood. She had asked him to go to Castle Innisfail for a few weeks in -August, adding, “Helen Craven has promised to be among our party. You -like her, don’t you?” - -“Immensely,” he had replied. - -“I knew it,” she had cried, with an enthusiasm that would have shocked -her daughter. “I don’t want a discordant note at our gathering. If you -look coldly on Helen Craven I shall wish that I hadn’t asked you; but if -you look on her in--well, in the other way, we shall all be happy.” - -He knew exactly what Lady Innisfail meant to convey. It had been hinted -to him before that, as he was presumably desirous of marrying a girl -with a considerable amount of money, he could not do better than -ask Miss Craven to be his wife. He had then laughed and assured Lady -Innisfail that if their happiness depended upon the way he looked upon -Miss Craven, it would be his aim to look upon her in any way that Lady -Innisfail might suggest. - -Well, he had come to Castle Innisfail, and for a week he had given -himself up to the vastness of the Western Cliffs--of the Atlantic -waves--of the billowy mountains--of the mysterious sunsets. It was -impossible to escape from the overwhelming influence of the Atlantic in -the region of Castle Innisfail. Its sound seemed to go out to all the -ends of the earth. At the Castle there was no speech or language where -its voice was not heard. It was a sort of background of sound that -had to be arranged for by anyone desirous of expressing any thought or -emotion in that region. Even the judge had to take it into consideration -upon occasions. He never took into consideration anything less important -than an ocean. - -For a week the influence of the Atlantic had overwhelmed Harold. He had -given himself up to it. He had looked at Miss Craven neither coldly nor -in the other way--whatever it was--to which Lady Innisfail had referred -as desirable to be adopted by him. Miss Craven had simply not been in -his thoughts. Face to face with the Infinite one hesitates to give up -one’s attention to a question of an income that may be indicated by five -figures only. - -But at the end of a week, he received a letter from his father, who -was Lord Fotheringay, and this letter rang many changes upon the -five-figure-income question. The question was more than all the -Infinities to Lord Fotheringay, and he suggested as much in writing to -his son. - -“Miss Craven is all that is desirable,” the letter had said. “Of -course she is not an American; but one cannot expect everything in this -imperfect world. Her money is, I understand, well invested--not in land, -thank heaven! She is, in fact, a CERTAINTY, and certainties are becoming -rarer every day.” - -Here the letter went on to refer to some abstract questions of the opera -in Italy--it was to the opera in Italy that Lord Fotheringay w as, -for the time being, attached. The progress made by one of its -ornaments--gifted with a singularly flexible soprano--interested him -greatly, and Harold had invariably found that in proportion to the -interest taken by his father in the exponents of certain arts--singing, -dancing, and the drama--his own allowance was reduced. He knew that his -father was not a rich man, for a peer. His income was only a trifle -over twelve thousand a year; but he also knew that only for his father’s -weaknesses, this sum should be sufficient for him to live on with some -degree of comfort. The weaknesses, however, were there, and they had to -be calculated on. Harold calculated on them; and after doing the sum in -simple subtraction with the sound of the infinite ocean around him, he -had asked his friend Edmund Airey to pass a few hours in the boat with -him. Edmund had complied for three consecutive afternoons, with the -result that, with three ridiculous stories from the Irish boatman, -Harold had acquired a certain amount of sound advice from the friend who -was in his confidence. - -He had made up his mind that, if Miss Craven would marry him, he would -endeavour to make her the wife of a distinguished man. - -That included everything, did it not? - -He felt that he might realize the brilliant future predicted for him by -his friends when he was the leader of the party of the hour at -Oxford. The theory of the party was--like everything that comes from -Oxford--eminently practical. The Regeneration of Humanity by means of -Natural Scenery was its foundation. Its advocates proved to their own -satisfaction that, in every question of morality and the still more -important question of artistic feeling, heredity was not the dominant -influence, but natural scenery. - -By the party Harold was regarded as the long-looked-for Man--what the -world wanted was a Man, they declared, and he was destined to be the -Man. - -He had travelled a good deal on leaving the University, and in a year -he had forgotten that he had ever pretended that he held any theory. A -theory he had come to believe to be the paper fortress of the Immature. -But the Man--that was a different thing. He hoped that he might yet -prove himself to be a man, so that, after all, his friends--they had -also ceased to theorize--might not have predicted in vain. - -Like many young men without experience, he believed that Parliament was -a great power. If anyone had told him that the art of gerrymandering -is greater than the art of governing, he would not have known what his -informant meant. - -His aspirations took the direction of a seat in the House of Commons. In -spite of the fact of his being the son of Lord Fotheringay, he believed -that he might make his mark in that Assembly. The well-known love of the -Voter for social purity--not necessarily in Beer--and his intolerance of -idleness--excepting, of course, when it is paid for by an employer--had, -he knew, to be counted on. Lord Fotheringay was not, he felt, the -ideal of the Working man, but he hoped he might be able to convince -the Working man--the Voter--that Lord Fotheringay’s most noted -characteristics had not descended to his son. - -From his concern on this point it will be readily understood how -striking a figure was the Voter, in his estimation. - -It is not so easy to understand how, with that ideal Voter--that stern -unbending moralist--before his eyes, he should feel that there was a -great need for him to be possessed of money before offering himself to -any constituency. The fact remained, however, that everyone to whom -he had confided his Parliamentary aspirations, had assured him at the -outset that money had to be secured before a constituency could be -reckoned on. His friend Edmund Airey had still further impressed upon -him this fact; and now he had made up his mind that his aspirations -should not be discouraged through the lack of money. - -He would ask Helen Craven that very night if she would have the goodness -to marry him. - - - - -CHAPTER VII.--ON THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOON. - -WHY the fact of his having made up his mind to ask Miss Craven who, -without being an American, still possessed many qualities which are -generally accepted as tending to married happiness, should cause him to -feel a great longing to leave Castle Innisfail, its occupants, and its -occupations behind him for evermore, it is difficult to explain on any -rational grounds. That feeling was, however, upon him, and he strode -away across the billowy moorland in the direction of the cliffs of the -fjord known as Lough Suangorm. - -The moon was at its full. It had arisen some little way up the sky -and was showering its red gold down the slopes of the two cone-shaped -mountains that guard the pass of Lamdhu; the deep glen was flooded with -moonlight--Harold could perceive in its hollows such objects as were -scarcely visible on the ordinary gray days of the West of Ireland. Then -he walked until he was on the brink of the great cliffs overhanging the -lough. From the high point on which he stood he could follow all the -curves of the lough out to the headlands at its entrance seven miles -away. Beyond those headlands the great expanse of sea was glittering -splendidly in the moonlight, though the moon had not risen high enough -to touch the restless waters at the base of the cl iffs on which he -stood. The waters were black as they struggled within their narrow -limits and were strangled in the channel. Only a white thread of surf -marked the breaking place of the waves upon the cliffs. - -He went down the little track, made among the rocks of the steep slope, -until he reached the natural cavern that bore the name of the Banshee’s -Cave. - -It was scarcely half-way up the face of the cliff. From that hollow in -the rocks the descent to the waters of the lough was sheer; but the cave -was easily accessible by a zig-zag path leading up from a small ledge of -rocks which, being protected by a reef that started up abruptly half a -dozen yards out in the narrow channel, served as a landing place for the -fishing boats, of which there were several owned in the tiny village of -Carrigorm. - -He stood at the entrance to the cavern, thinking, not upon the scene -which, according to the boatman’s story, had been enacted at the place -several hundreds--perhaps thousands (the chronology of Irish legends is -vague)--of years before, but upon his own prospects. - -“It is done,” he said, looking the opposite cliffs straight in the -face, as though they were Voters--(candidates usually look at the Voters -straight in the face the first time they address them). “It is done; -I cast it to the winds--to the seas, that are as indifferent to -man’s affairs as the winds. I must be content to live without it. The -career--that is enough!” - -What it was that he meant to cast to the indifference of the seas and -the winds was nothing more than a sentiment--a vague feeling that he -could not previously get rid of--a feeling that man’s life without -woman’s love was something incomplete and unsatisfactory. - -He had had his theory on this subject as well as on others long ago--he -had gone the length of embodying it in sonnets. - -Was it now to go the way of the other impracticable theories? - -He had cherished it for long. If it had not been dear to him he would -not have subjected himself to the restriction of the sonnet in writing -about it. He would have adopted the commonplace and facile stanza. But a -sonnet is a shrine. - -He had felt that whatever might happen to him, however disappointed he -might become with the world and the things of the world, that great and -splendid love was before him, and he felt that to realize it would be to -forget all disappointments--to forget all the pangs which the heart of -man knows when its hour of disillusion comes. - -Love was the reward of the struggle--the deep, sweet draught that -refreshes the heart of the toiler, he felt. In whatever direction -illusion may lie, love was not in that direction. - -That had been his firm belief all his life, and now he was standing at -the entrance to the cavern--the cavern that was associated with a story -of love stronger than death--and he had just assured himself that he -had flung to the seas and the winds all his hopes of that love which had -been in his dreams. - -“It is gone--it is gone!” he cried, looking down at that narrow part of -the lough where the boat had been tumbling during the afternoon. - -What had that adviser of his said? He remembered something of his -words--something about marriage being a guarantee of love. - -Harold laughed grimly as he recalled the words. He knew better. The love -that he had looked for was not such as was referred to by his friend Mr. -Airey. It was---- - -But what on earth was the good of trying to recall what it was? The -diamonds that Queen Guinevere flung into the river, made just the same -splash as common stones would have done under the same circumstances: -and the love which he had cherished was, when cast to the winds, no more -worthy of being thought precious than the many other ideas which he had -happily rid himself of in the course of his walk through the world. - -This was how he repressed the thought of his conversation with his -friend; and after a while the recollections that he wished to suppress -yielded to his methods. - -Once more the influences of the place--the spectacle of the infinite -mountains, the voice of the infinite sea--asserted themselves as they -had done during the first week of his arrival at the Castle. The story -of the legendary Prince and Princess came back to him as though it were -the embodiment of the influences of the region of romance in the midst -of which he was standing. - -What had Brian the boatman said? The beautiful girl had crossed the -narrow channel of the lough night after night and had climbed the face -of the cliffs to her lover at their dizzy trysting-place--the place -where he was now standing. - -Even while he thought upon the details, as carefully narrated by the -boatman, the moon rose high enough to send her rays sweeping over the -full length of the lough. For a quarter of an hour a single thin crag of -the Slieve Gorm mountains had stood between the moon and the narrowing -of the lough. The orb rose over the last thin peak of the crag. The -lough through all its sinuous length flashed beneath his eyes like a -Malayan crease, and in the waters just below the cliffs which a moment -before had been black, he saw a small boat being rowed by a white -figure. - -“That is the lovely Princess of the story,” said he. “She is in -white--of course they are all in white, these princesses. It’s -marvellous what a glint of moonlight can do. It throws a glamour over -the essentially commonplace, the same way that--well, that that fancy -known as love does upon occasions, otherwise the plain features of a -woman would perish from the earth and not be perpetuated. The lumpy -daughter of the village who exists simply to show what an artist was -Jean François Millet, appears down there to float through the moonlight -like the restless spirit of a princess. Is she coming to meet the spirit -of her lover at their old trysting-place? Ah, no, she is probably about -to convey a pannikin of worms for bait to one of the fishing boats.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--ON THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK. - -HAROLD WYNNE was in one of those moods which struggle for expression -through the medium of bitter phrases. He felt that he did well to be -cynical. Had he not outlived his belief in love as a necessity of life? - -He watched with some degree of interest the progress of the tiny boat -rowed by the white figure. He had tried to bring himself to believe that -the figure was that of a rough fisher-girl--the fisher-girls are not -rough, however, on that part of the coast, and he knew it, only his mood -tended to roughness. He tried to make himself believe that a coarse jest -shrieked through the moonlight to reach the ears of an appreciatively -coarse fisherman, would not be inconsistent with the appearance of that -white figure. He felt quite equal to the act of looking beneath the -glory and the glamour of the moonlight and of seeing there only the -commonplace. He was, he believed, in a mood to revel in the disillusion -of a man. - -And yet he watched the progress of the boat through the glittering -waters, without removing his eyes from it. - -The white figure in the boat was so white as to seem the centre of -the light that flashed along the ripples and silvered the faces of the -cliffs--so much was apparent to him in spite of his mood. As the boat -approached the landing-place at the ledge of rock a hundred feet below -him, he also perceived that the rower handled her oars in a scientific -way unknown to the fisher-girls; and the next thing that he noticed -was that she wore a straw hat and a blouse of a pattern that the -fisher-girls were powerless to imitate, though the skill was -easily available to the Mary Anns and the Matilda Janes who steer -(indifferently) perambulators through the London parks. He was so -interested in what he saw, that he had not sufficient presence of mind -to resume his cynical mutterings, or to inquire if it was possible -that the fashion of the year as regards sailor hats and blouses, was a -repetition of that of the period of the Princess Fither. - -He was more than interested--he was puzzled--as the boat was skilfully -run alongside the narrow landing ledge at the foot of the cliffs, and -when the girl--the figure was clearly that of a girl--landed---she wore -yachting shoes--carrying with her the boat’s painter, which she made -fast in a business-like way to one of the iron rings that had been sunk -in the face of the cliff for the mooring of the fishing boats, he was -more puzzled still. In another moment the girl was toiling up the little -zig-zag track that led to the summit of the cliffs. - -The track passed within a yard or two of the entrance to the cavern. He -thought it advisable to step hack out of the moonlight, so that the girl -should not see him. She was doubtless, he thought, on her way to the -summit of the cliffs, and she would probably be startled if he were to -appear suddenly before her eyes. He took a step or two back into the -friendly shadow of the cavern, and waited to hear her footsteps on the -track above him. - -He waited in vain. She did not take that zigzag track that led to the -cliffs above the cave. He heard her jump--it was almost a feat--from the -track by which she had ascended, on to a flat rock not a yard from the -entrance to the cavern. He shrunk still further back into the darkness, -and then there came before the entrance the most entrancing figure of a -girl that he had ever seen. - -She stood there delightfully out of breath, with the moonlight bringing -out every gracious curve in her shape. So he had seen the limelight -reveal the graces of a breathless _danseuse_, when taking her “call.” - -“My dear Prince,” said the girl, with many a gasp. “You have treated me -very badly. It’s a pull--undeniably a pull--up those rocks, and for the -third time I have kept my tryst with you, only to be disappointed.” - -She laughed, and putting a shapely foot--she was by no means careful to -conceal her stocking above the ankle--upon a stone, she quietly and in a -matter-of-fact way, tied the lace of her yachting shoe. - -The stooping was not good for her--he felt that, together with a few -other matters incidental to her situation. He waited for the long breath -he knew she would draw on straightening herself. - -It came. He hoped that her other shoe needed tying; but it did not. - -He watched her as she stood there with her back to him. She was sending -her eyes out to the Western headlands. - -“No, my Prince; on the whole I’m not disappointed,” she said. “That -picture repays me for my toil by sea and land. What a picture! But what -would it be to be here with--with--love!” - -That was all she said. - -He thought it was quite enough. - -She stood there like a statue of white marble set among the black rocks. -She was absolutely motionless for some minutes; and then the sigh that -fluttered from her lips was, he knew, a different expression altogether -from that which had come from her when she had straightened herself on -fastening her shoe. - -His father was a connoisseur in sighs; Harold did not profess to -have the same amount of knowledge on the subject, but still he knew -something. He could distinguish roughly on some points incidental to the -sigh as a medium of expression. - -After that little gasp which was not quite a gasp, she was again silent; -then she whispered, but by no means gently, the one word “Idiot!” and -in another second she had sent her voice into the still night in a wild -musical cry--such a cry as anyone gifted with that imaginative power -which Brian had declared to be so necessary for archæological research, -might attribute to the Banshee--the White Lady of Irish legends. - -She repeated the cry an octave higher and then she executed what is -technically known as a “scale” but ended with that same weird cry of the -Banshee. - -Once again she was breathless. Her blouse was turbulent just below her -throat. - -“If Brian does not cross himself until he feels more fatigue than he -would after a pretence at rowing, I’ll never play Banshee again,” said -the girl. “_Ta, ta, mon Prince; a rivederci_.” - -He watched her poise herself for the leap from the rock where she was -standing, to the track--her grace was exquisite--it suggested that of -the lithe antelope. The leap took her beyond his sight, and he did not -venture immediately to a point whence he could regain possession of her -with his eyes. But when he heard the sound of her voice singing a snatch -of song--it was actually “_L’amour est un oiseau rebelle_”--the Habanera -from “Carmen”--he judged that she had reached the second angle of the -zig-zag downward, and he took a step into the moonlight. - -There she went, lilting the song and keeping time with her feet, until -she reached the ledge where the boat was moored. She unfastened the -painter, hauled the boat close, and he heard the sound of the plunge -of the bows as she jumped on one of the beams, the force of her jump -sending the boat far from shore. - -She sat for some minutes on the beam amidship, listlessly allowing the -boat to drift away from the rocks, then she put out her hands for the -oars. Her right hand grasped one, but there was none for the left to -grasp. Harold perceived that one of the oars had disappeared. - -There was the boat twenty yards from the rock drifting away beyond the -control of the girl. - - - - -CHAPTER IX.--ON THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. - -THE girl had shown so much adroitness in the management of the little -craft previously, he felt--with deep regret--that she would be quite -equal to her present emergency. He was mistaken. She had reached the end -of her resources in navigation when she had run the boat alongside the -landing place. He saw--with great satisfaction--that with only one oar -she was helpless. - -What should he do? - -That was what he asked himself when he saw her dip her remaining oar -into the water and paddle a few strokes, making the boat describe an -awkward circle and bringing it perilously close to a jagged point of the -reef that did duty as a natural breakwater for the mooring place of the -boats. He came to the conclusion that if he allowed her to continue that -sort of paddling, she would run the boat on the reef, and he would be -morally responsible for the disaster and its consequences, whatever they -might be. He had never felt more conscientious than at that moment. - -He ran down the track to the landing ledge, but before he had reached -the latter, the girl had ceased her efforts and was staring at him, her -hands still resting on the oar. - -He had an uneasy feeling that he was scarcely so picturesquely -breathless as she had been, and this consciousness did not tend to make -him fluent as he stood upon the rocky shelf not a foot above the ridges -of the silver ripples. - -He found himself staring at her, just as she was staring at him. - -Quite a minute had passed before he found words to ask her if he could -be of any help to her. - -“I don’t know,” she replied, in a tone very different from that in which -she had spoken at the entrance to the cavern. “I don’t really know. -One of the oars must have gone overboard while the boat was moored. I -scarcely know what I am to do.” - -“I’m afraid you’re in a bad way!” said he, shaking his head. The change -in the girl’s tone was very amusing to him. She had become quite demure; -but previously, demureness had been in the background. “Yes, I’m afraid -your case is a very bad one.” - -“So bad as that?” she asked. - -“Well, perhaps not quite, but still bad enough,” said he. “What do you -want to do?” - -“To get home as soon as possible,” she replied, without the pause of a -second. - -Her tone was expressive. It conveyed to him the notion that she had just -asked if he thought that she was an idiot. What could she want to do if -not to go home? - -“In that case,” said he, “I should advise you to take the oar to the -sculling place in the centre of the stern. The boat is a stout one and -will scull well.” - -“But I don’t know how to scull,” said she, in a tone of real distress; -“and I don’t think I can begin to learn just now.” - -“There’s something in that,” said he. “If I were only aboard I could -teach you in a short time.” - -“But--” - -She had begun her reply without the delay of a second, but she did not -get beyond the one word. He felt that she did not need to do so: it was -a sentence by itself. - -“Yes,” said he, “as you say, I’m not aboard. Shall I get aboard?” - -“How could you?” she inquired, brightening up. - -“I can swim,” he replied. - -She laughed. - -“The situation is not so desperate as that,” she cried. - -He also laughed. - -They both laughed together. - -She stopped suddenly and looked up the cliffs to the Banshee’s Cave. - -Was she wondering if he had been within hearing when she had been--and -not in silence--at the entrance to the cave? - -He felt that he had never seen so beautiful a girl. Even making a -liberal allowance for that glamour of the moonlight, which he had tried -to assure himself was as deceptive as the glamour of love, she was, he -felt, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. - -He crushed down every suggestion that came to him as to the best way of -helping her out of her difficulty. It was his opportunity. - -Then she turned her eyes from the cliff and looked at him again. - -There was something imploring in her look. - -“Keep up your heart,” said he. “Whose boat is that, may I ask?” - -“It belongs to a man named Brian--Brian something or other--perhaps -O’Donal.” - -“In that case I think it almost certain that you will find a fishing -line in the locker astern--a fishing line and a tin bailer--the line -will help you out of the difficulty.” - -Before he had quite done speaking she was in the stern sheets, groping -with one hand in the little locker. - -She brought out, first, a small jar of whiskey, secondly, a small -pannikin that served a man’s purpose when he wished to drink the whiskey -in unusually small quantities, and was also handy in bailing out the -boat, and, thirdly, a fishing line-wound about a square frame. - -She held up the last-named so that Harold might see it. - -“I thought it would be there,” said he. “Now if you can only cast one -end of that line ashore, I will catch it and the boat will be alongside -the landing-place in a few minutes. Can you throw?” - -She was silent. She examined the hooks on the whale-bone cross-cast. - -He laughed again, for he perceived that she was reluctant to boast of -the possession of a skill which was denied to all womankind. - -“I’ll explain to you what you must do,” he said. “Cut away the cast of -hooks.” - -“But I have no knife.” - -“Then I’ll throw mine into the bottom of your boat. Look out.” - -Being a man, he was able to make the knife alight within reasonable -distance of the spot at which he aimed. He saw her face brighten as she -picked up the implement and, opening it, quickly cut away the cast of -hooks. - -“Now make fast the leaden sinker to the end of the fishing line, unwind -it all from the frame, and then whirl the weight round and sling it -ashore--anywhere ashore.” - -She followed his instructions implicitly, and the leaden weight fled -through the air, with the sound of a shell from a mortar. - -“Well thrown!” he cried, as it soared above his head; and it was well -thrown--so well that it carried overboard every inch of the line and the -frame to which it was attached. - -“How stupid of me!” she said. - -“Of me, you mean,” said he. “I should have told you to make it fast. -However, no harm is done. I’ll recover the weight and send it back to -you.” - -He had no trouble in effecting his purpose. He threw the weight as -gently as possible into the bow of the boat, she picked it up, and -the line was in her hands as he took in the slack and hauled the boat -alongside the shelf of rock. - -It cannot have escaped notice that the system of hauling which he -adopted had the result of bringing their hands together. They scarcely -touched, however. - -“Thank you,” said she, with profound coldness, when the boat was -alongside. - -“Your case was not so desperate, after all,” he remarked, with just a -trifle less frigidity in his tone, though he now knew that she was the -most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He had talked of the glamour of -moonlight. How could he have been so ridiculous? - -“No, my case was not so very desperate,” she said. “Thank you so much.” - -Did she mean to suggest that he should now walk away? - -“I can’t go, you know, until I am satisfied that your _contretemps_ is -at an end,” said he. “My name is Wynne--Harold Wynne. I am a guest of -Lord Innisfail’s. I dare say you know him.” - -“No,” she replied. “I know nobody.” - -“Nobody?” - -“Nobody here. Of course I daily hear something about Lord Innisfail and -his guests.” - -“You know Brian--he is somebody--the historian of the region. Did you -ever hear the story of the Banshee?” - -She looked at him, but he flattered himself that his face told her -nothing of what she seemed anxious to know. - -“Yes,” she said, after a pause. “I do believe that I heard the story -of the Banshee--a princess, was she not--a sort of princess--an Irish -princess?” - -“Strictly Irish. It is said that the cry of the White Lady is sometimes -heard even on these nights among the cliffs down which the Princess -flung herself.” - -“Really?” said she, turning her eyes to the sea. “How strange!” - -“Strange? well--perhaps. But Brian declares that he has heard the cry -with his own ears. I have a friend who says, very coarsely, that if lies -were landed property Brian would be the largest holder of real estate in -the world.” - -“Your friend does not understand Brian.” There was more than a trace of -indignation in her voice. “Brian has imagination--so have all the people -about here. I must get home as soon as possible. I thank you very much -for your trouble. Goodnight.” - -“I have had no trouble. Good-night.” - -He took off his cap, and moved away--to the extent of a single step. She -was still standing in the boat. - -“By the way,” he said, as if the thought had just occurred to him; “do -you intend going overland?” - -The glamour of the moonlight failed to conceal the troubled look that -came to her eyes. He regained the step that he had taken away from her, -and remarked, “If you will be good enough to allow me, I will scull you -with the one oar to any part of the coast that you may wish to reach. It -would be a pleasure to me. I have nothing whatever to do. As a matter of -fact, I don’t see that you have any choice in the matter.” - -“I have not,” she said gravely. “I was a fool--such a fool! But--the -story of the Princess--” - -“Pray don’t make any confession to me,” said he. “If I had not heard the -story of the Princess, should I be here either?” - -“My name,” said she, “is Beatrice Avon. My father’s name you may have -heard--most people have heard his name, though I’m afraid that not so -many have read his books.” - -“But I have met your father,” said he. “If he is Julius Anthony Avon, I -met him some years ago. He breakfasted with my tutor at Oxford. I have -read all his hooks.” - -“Oh, come into the boat,” she cried with a laugh. “I feel that we have -been introduced.” - -“And so we have,” said he, stepping upon the gunwale so as to push off -the boat. “Now, where is your best landing place?” - -She pointed out to him a white cottage at the entrance to a glen on the -opposite coast of the lough, just below the ruins--they could be seen -by the imaginative eye--of the Castle of Carrigorm. The cottage was -glistening in the moonlight. - -“That is where we have been living--my father and I--for the past -month,” said she. “He is engaged on a new work--a History of Irish -Patriotism, and he has begun by compiling a biographical dictionary of -Irish Informers. He is making capital progress with it. He has already -got to the end of the seventh volume and he has very nearly reached the -letter C--oh, yes, he is making rapid progress.” - -“But why is he at this place? Is he working up the Irish legends as -well?” - -“It seems that the French landed here some time or other, and that was -the beginning of a new era of rebellions. My father is dealing with the -period, and means to have his topography strictly accurate.” - -“Yes,” said Harold, “if he carefully avoids everything that he is told -in Ireland his book may tend to accuracy.” - - - - -CHAPTER X.--ON SCIENCE AND ART. - -A BOAT being urged onwards--not very rapidly--by a single oar resting -in a hollow in the centre of the stern, and worked from side to side -by a man in evening dress, is not a sight of daily occurrence. This may -have suggested itself to the girl who was seated on the midship beam; -but if she was inclined to laugh, she succeeded in controlling her -impulses. - -He found that he was more adroit at the science of marine propulsion -than he had fancied he was. The boat was making quite too rapid progress -for his desires, across the lough. - -He asked the girl if she did not think it well that she should become -acquainted with at least the scientific principle which formed the -basis of the marine propeller. It was extremely unlikely that such -an emergency as that which had lately arisen should ever again make a -demand upon her resources, but if such were ever to present itself, it -might be well for her to be armed to overcome it. - -Yes, she said, it was extremely unlikely that she should ever again be -so foolish, and she hoped that her father would not be uneasy at her -failure to return at the hour at which she had told him to expect her. - -He stopped rocking the oar from side to side in order to assure her that -she could not possibly be delayed more than a quarter of an hour through -the loss of the oar. - -She said that she was very glad, and that she really thought that the -boat was making more rapid progress with his one oar than it had done in -the opposite direction with her two oars. - -He began to perceive that his opportunities of making her acquainted -with the science of the screw propeller were dwindling. He faced the oar -boldly, however, and he felt that he had at least succeeded in showing -her how effective was the application of a scientific law to the -achievement of his end--assuming that that end was the driving of the -boat through the waters. - -He was not a fool. He knew very well that there is nothing which so -appeals to the interest of a woman as seeing a man do something that she -cannot do. - -When, after five minutes’ work, he turned his head to steer the boat, he -found that she was watching him. - -She had previously been watching the white glistening cottage, with the -light in one window only. - -The result of his observation was extremely satisfactory to him. He -resumed his toil without a word. - -And this was how it happened that the boat made so excellent a passage -across the lough. - -It was not until the keel grated upon the sand that the girl spoke. She -made a splendid leap from the bows, and, turning, asked him if he would -care to pay a visit to her father. - -He replied that he feared that he might jeopardize the biography of some -interesting informer whose name might occur at the close of the letter -B. He hoped that he would be allowed to borrow the boat for his return -to the cliffs, and to row it back the next day to where it was at the -moment he was speaking. - -His earnest sculling of the boat had not made all thought for the morrow -impracticable. He had been reflecting through the silence, how he might -make the chance of meeting once more this girl whose face he had seen -for the first time half an hour before. - -She had already given him an absurd amount of trouble, she said. The -boat was one that she had borrowed from Brian, and Brian could easily -row it across next morning. - -But he happened to know that Brian was to be in attendance on Mr. Durdan -all the next day. Mr. Durdan had come to the West solely for the purpose -of studying the Irish question on the spot. He had, consequently, spent -all his time, deep-sea fishing. - -“So you perceive that there’s nothing for it but for me to bring back -the boat, Miss Avon,” said he. - -“You do it so well,” she said, with a tone of enthusiasm in her voice. -“I never admired anything so much--your sculling, I mean. And perhaps I -may learn something about--was it the scientific principle that you were -kind enough to offer to teach me?” - -“The scientific principle,” said he, with an uneasy feeling that the -girl had seen through his artifice to prolong the crossing of the lough. -“Yes, you certainly should know all about the scientific principle.” - -“I feel so, indeed. Good-night.” - -“Good-night,” said he, preparing to push the boat off the sand where it -had grounded. “Goodnight. By the way, it was only when we were out with -Brian in the afternoon that he told us the story of the Princess and her -lover. He added that the cry of the White Lady would probably be heard -when night came.” - -“Perhaps you may hear it yet,” said she. “Goodnight.” - -She had run up the sandy beach, before he had pushed off the boat, and -she never looked round. - -He stood with one foot on the gunwale of the boat in act to push into -deep water, thinking that perhaps she might at the last moment look -round. - -She did not. - -He caught another glimpse of her beyond the furze that crowned a ridge -of rocks. But she had her face steadfastly set toward the white cottage. - -He threw all his weight upon the oar which he was using as a pole, and -out the boat shot into the deep water. - -“Great heavens!” said Edmund Airey. “Where have you been for the past -couple of hours?” - -“Where?” repeated Miss Craven in a tone of voice that should only be -assumed when the eyes, of the speaker are sparkling. But Miss Craven’s -eyes were not sparkling. Their strong point was not in that direction. -“I’m afraid you must give an account of yourself, Mr. Wynne,” she -continued. She was standing by the side of Edmund Airey, within the -embrace of the mighty antlers of the ancient elk in the hall. The sound -of dance music was in the air, and Miss Craven’s face was flushed. - -“To give an account of myself would be to place myself on a level of -dulness with the autobiographers whose reminiscences we yawn over.” - -“Then give us a chance of yawning,” cried Miss Craven. - -“You do not need one,” said he. “Have you not been for some time by the -side of a Member of Parliament?” - -“He has been over the cliffs,” suggested the Member of Parliament. -He was looking at Harold’s shoes, which bore tokens of having been -ill-treated beyond the usual ill-treatment of shoes with bows of ribbon -above the toes. - -“Yes,” said Harold. “Over the cliffs.” - -“At the Banshee’s Cave, I’m certain,” said Miss Craven. - -“Yes, at the Banshee’s Cave.” - -“How lovely! And you saw the White Lady?” she continued. - -“Yes, I saw the White Lady.” - -“And you heard her cry at the entrance to the cave?” - -“Yes, I heard her cry at the entrance to the cave.” - -“Nonsense!” said she. - -“Utter nonsense!” said he. “I must ask Lady Innisfail to dance.” - -He crossed the hall to where Lady Innisfail was seated. She was fanning -herself and making sparkling replies to the inanities of Mr. Durdan, who -stood beside her. She had been engaged in every dance, Harold knew, from -the extra gravity of her daughter. - -“What does he mean?” Miss Craven asked of Edmund Airey in a low--almost -an anxious, tone. - -“Mean? Why, to dance with Lady Innisfail. He is a man of determination.” - -“What does he mean by that nonsense about the Banshee’s Cave?” - -“Is it nonsense?” - -“Of course it is. Does anyone suppose that the legend of the White Lady -is anything but nonsense? Didn’t you ridicule it at dinner?” - -“At dinner; oh, yes: but then you must remember that no one is -altogether discreet at dinner. That cold _entrée_--the Russian salad--” - -“A good many people are discreet neither at dinner nor after it.” - -“Our friend Harold, for instance? Oh, I have every confidence in him. -I know his mood. I have experienced it myself. I, too, have stood in a -sculpturesque attitude and attire, on a rock overhanging a deep sea, -and I have been at the point of dressing again without taking the plunge -that I meant to take.” - -“You mean that he--that he--oh, I don’t know what you mean.” - -“I mean that if he had been so fortunate as to come upon you suddenly at -the Banshee’s Cave or wherever he was to-night, he would have--well, he -would have taken the plunge.” - -He saw the girl’s face become slightly roseate in spite of the fact -of her being the most self-controlled person whom he had ever met. He -perceived that she appreciated his meaning to a shade. - -He liked that. A man who is gifted with the power of expressing his -ideas in various shades, likes to feel that his power is appreciated. -He knew that there are some people who fancy that every question is -susceptible of being answered by yea or nay. He hated such people. - -“The plunge?” said Miss Craven, with an ingenuousness that confirmed -his high estimate of her powers of appreciation. “The plunge? But the -Banshee’s Cave is a hundred feet above the water.” - -“But men have taken headers--” - -“They have,” said she, “and therefore we should finish our waltz.” - -They did finish their waltz. - - - - -CHAPTER XI.--ON HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. - -MR. DURDAN was explaining something--he usually was explaining -something. When he had been a member of the late Government his process -of explaining something was generally regarded as a fine effort at -mystification. In private his explanations were sometimes intelligible. -As Harold entered the room where a straggling breakfast was -proceeding--everything except dinner had a tendency to be straggling -at Castle Innisfail--Mr. Dur dan was explaining how Brian had been -bewildered. - -It was a profitable theme, especially for a man who fondly believed that -he had the power of reproducing what he imagined to be the Irish brogue -of the boatman. - -Harold gathered that Mr. Durdan had already had a couple of hours of -deep-sea fishing in the boat with Brian--the servants were all the -morning carrying into the dining-room plates of fish of his catching -(audibly sneered at by the fly-fishers, who considered their supreme -failures superior to the hugest successes of the deep-sea fishers). - -But the fishing was not to the point. What Mr. Durdan believed to be -very much to the point were the “begorras,” the “acushlas,” the “arrahs” - which he tried to make his auditors believe the boatman had uttered in -telling him how he had been awakened early in the night by hearing the -cry of the Banshee. - -Every phrase supposed to have been employed by the boatman was -reproduced by the narrator; and his auditors glanced meaningly at one -another. It would have required a great deal of convincing to make them -fancy for a moment that the language of Brian consisted of an -imaginary Irish exclamation preceding a purely Cockney--occasionally -Yorkshire--idiom. But the narrator continued his story, and seemed -convinced that his voice was an exact reproduction of Brian’s brogue. - -Harold thought that he would try a little of something that was not -fish--he scarcely minded what he had, provided it was not fish, he -told the servant. And as there was apparently some little-difficulty in -procuring such a comestible, Harold drank some coffee and listened -to Mr. Durdan’s story--he recommenced it for everyone who entered the -breakfast-room. - -Yes, Brian had distinctly heard the cry of the Banshee, he said; but a -greater marvel had happened, for he found one of his boats that had been -made fast on the opposite shore of the lough in the early part of the -night, moored at the landing-ledge at the base of the cliffs beneath the -Banshee’s Cave. By the aid of many a gratuitous “begorra,” Mr. Durdan -indicated the condition of perplexity in which the boatman had been -all the time he was baiting the lines. He explained that the man had -attributed to “herself”--meaning, of course, the White Lady--the removal -of the boat from the one side of the lough to the other. It was plain -that the ghost of the Princess was a good oarswoman, too, for a single -paddle only was found in the boat. It was so like a ghost, he had -confided to Mr. Durdan, to make a cruise in a way that was contrary--the -accent on the second syllable--to nature. - -“He has put another oar aboard and is now rowing the boat back to its -original quarters,” said Mr. Durdan, in conclusion. “But he declares -that, be the Powers!”--here the narrator assumed once more the hybrid -brogue--“if the boat was meddled with by ‘herself’ again he would call -the priest to bless the craft, and where would ‘herself’ be then?” - -“Where indeed?” said Lord Innisfail. - -Harold said nothing. He was aware that Edmund was looking at him -intently. Did he suspect anything, Harold wondered. - -He gave no indication of being more interested in the story than anyone -present, and no one present seemed struck with it--no one, except -perhaps, Miss Craven, who had entered the room late, and was thus -fortunate enough to obtain the general drift of what Mr. Durdan was -talking about, without having her attention diverted by his loving -repetition of the phrases of local colour. - -Miss Craven heard the story, laughed, glanced at her plate, and remarked -with some slyness that Mr. Durdan was clearly making strides -in his acquaintance with the Irish question. She then -glanced--confidentially--at Edmund Airey, and finally--rather -less confidentially--at Harold. - -He was eating of that which was not fish, and giving a good deal of -attention to it. - -Miss Craven thought he was giving quite too much attention to it. She -suspected that he knew more about the boat incident than he cared to -express, or why should he be giving so much attention to his plate? - -As for Harold himself, he was feeling that it would be something of a -gratification to him if a fatal accident were to happen to Brian. - -He inwardly called him a meddlesome fool. Why should he take it upon -him to row the boat across the lough, when he, Harold, had been looking -forward during the sleepless hours of the night, to that exercise? When -he had awakened from an early morning slumber, it was with the joyous -feeling that nothing could deprive him of that row across the lough. - -And yet he had been deprived of it, therefore he felt some regret that, -the morning being a calm one, Brian’s chances of disaster when crossing -the lough were insignificant. - -All the time that the judge was explaining in that lucid style which was -the envy of his brethren on the Bench, how impossible it would be for -the Son of Porcupine to purge himself of the contempt which was heaped -upon him owing to his unseemly behaviour at a recent race meeting--the -case of the son of so excellent a father as Porcupine turning out badly -was jeopardizing the future of Evolution as a doctrine--Harold was -trying to devise some plan that should make him independent of the -interference of the boatman. He did not insist on the plan being -legitimate or even reasonable; all that he felt was that he must cross -the lough. - -He thought of the girl whom he had seen in that atmosphere of moonlight; -and somehow he came to think of her as responsible for her exquisite -surroundings. There was nothing commonplace about her--that was what he -felt most strongly as he noticed the excellent appetites of the young -women around him. Even Miss Stafford, who hoped to be accepted as an -Intellect embodied in a mere film of flesh--she went to the extreme -length of cultivating a Brow--tickled her trout with the point of her -fork much less tenderly than the fisherman who told her the story--with -an impromptu bravura passage or two--of its capture, had done. - -But the girl whom he had seen in the moonlight--whom he was yearning to -see in the sunlight--was as refined as a star. “As refined as a star,” - he actually murmured, when he found himself with an unlighted cigar -between his fingers on that part of the terrace which afforded a fine -view of the lough--the narrow part as well--his eyes were directed to -the narrow part. “As refined as a star--a--” - -He turned himself round with a jerk. “A star?” - -His father’s letter was still in his pocket. It contained in the course -of its operatic clauses some references to a Star--a Star, who, alas! -was not refined--who, on the contrary, was expensive. - -He struck a match very viciously and lit his cigar. - -Miss Craven had just appeared on the terrace. - -He dropped his still flaming match on the hard gravel walk and put his -foot upon it. - -“A star!” - -He was very vicious. - -“She is not a particularly good talker, but she is a most fascinating -listener,” said Edmund Airey, who strolled up. - -“I have noticed so much--when you have been the talker,” said Harold. -“It is only to the brilliant talker that the fascinating listener -appeals. By the way, how does ‘fascinated listener’ sound as a phrase? -Haven’t I read somewhere that the speeches of an eminent politician were -modelled on the principle of catching birds by night? You flash a lamp -upon them and they may be captured by the score. The speeches were -compared to the lantern and the public to the birds.” - -“Gulls,” said Edmund. “My dear Harold, I did not come out here to -exchange opinions with you on the vexed question of vote-catching -or gulls--it will be time enough to do so when you have found a -constituency.” - -“Quite. And meantime I am to think of Miss Craven as a fascinating -listener? That’s what you have come to impress upon me.” - -“I mean that you should give yourself a fair chance of becoming -acquainted with her powers as a listener--I mean that you should talk to -her on an interesting topic.” - -“Would to heaven that I had your capacity of being interesting on all -topics.” - -“The dullest man on earth when talking to a woman on love as a topic, -is infinitely more interesting to her than the most brilliant man when -talking to her on any other topic.” - -“You suggest a perilous way to the dull man of becoming momentarily -interesting.” - -“Of course I know the phrase which, in spite of being the composition -of a French philosopher, is not altogether devoid of truth--yes, ‘_Qui -parle d’amour fait l’amour’_.” - -“Only that love is born, not made.” - -“Great heavens! have you learned that--that, with your father’s letter -next your heart?” - -Harold laughed. - -“Do you fancy that I have forgotten your conversation in the boat -yesterday?” said he. “Heaven on one side and the Lord Chancellor on the -other.” - -“And you have come to the conclusion that you are on the side of heaven? -You are in a perilous way.” - -“Your logic is a trifle shaky, friend. Besides, you have no right to -assume that I am on the side of heaven.” - -“There is a suggestion of indignation in your voice that gives me hope -that you are not in so evil a case as I may have suspected. Do you think -that another afternoon in the boat--” - -“Would make me on the side of the Lord Chancellor? I doubt it. But that -is not equivalent to saying that I doubt the excellence of your advice.” - -“Yesterday afternoon I flattered myself that I had given you such advice -as commended itself to you, and yet now you tell me that love is born, -not made. The man who believes that is past being advised. It is, I say, -the end of wisdom. What has happened since yesterday afternoon?” - -“Nothing has happened to shake my confidence in the soundness of your -advice,” said Harold, but not until a pause had occurred--a pause of -sufficient duration to tell his observant friend that something had -happened. - -“If nothing has happened--Miss Craven is going to sketch the Round Tower -at noon,” said Edmund--the Round Tower was some distance through the -romantic Pass of Lamdhu. - -“The Round Tower will not suffer; Miss Craven is not one of the -landscape libellers,” remarked Harold. - -Just then Miss Innisfail hurried up with a face lined with anxiety. - -Miss Innisfail was the sort of girl who always, says, “It is I.” - -“Oh, Mr. Airey,” she cried, “I have come to entreat of you to do your -best to dissuade mamma from her wild notion--the wildest she has ever -had. You may have some restraining influence upon her. She is trying to -get up an Irish jig in the hall after dinner--she has set her heart on -it.” - -“I can promise you that if Lady Innisfail asks me to be one of the -performers I shall decline,” said Edmund. - -“Oh, she has set her heart on bringing native dancers for the purpose,” - cried the girl. - -“That sounds serious,” said Edmund. “Native dances are usually very -terrible visitations. I saw one at Samoa.” - -“I knew it--yes, I suspected as much,” murmured the girl, shaking her -head. “Oh, we must put a stop to it. You will help me, Mr. Airey?” - -“I am always on the side of law and order,” said Mr. Airey. “A mother is -a great responsibility, Miss Innisfail.” - -Miss Innisfail smiled sadly, shook her head again, and fled to find -another supporter against the latest frivolity of her mother. - -When Edmund turned about from watching her, he saw that his friend -Harold Wynne had gone off with some of the yachtsmen--for every day -a yachting party as well as deep-sea-fishing, and salmon-fishing -parties--shooting parties and even archæological parties were in the -habit of setting-out from Castle Innisfail. - -Was it possible that Harold intended spending the day aboard the cutter, -Edmund asked himself. - -Harold’s mood of the previous evening had been quite intelligible -to him--he had confessed to Miss Craven that he understood and even -sympathized with him. He was the man who was putting off the plunge as -long as possible, he felt. - -But he knew that that attitude, if prolonged, not only becomes -ridiculous, but positively verges on the indecent. It is one thing to -pause for a minute on the brink of the deep water, and quite another to -remain shivering on the rock for half a day. - -Harold Wynne wanted money in order to realize a legitimate ambition. But -it so happened that he could not obtain that money unless by marrying -Miss Craven--that was the situation of the moment. But instead of -asking Miss Craven if she would have the goodness to marry him, he was -wandering about the coast in an aimless way. - -Lady Innisfail was the most finished artist in matchmaking that Edmund -had ever met. So finished an artist was she that no one had ever -ventured to suggest that she was a match-maker. As a matter of fact, her -reputation lay in just the opposite direction. She was generally looked -upon as a marrer of matches. This was how she had achieved some of -her most brilliant successes. She was herself so fascinating that she -attracted the nicest men to her side; but, somehow, instead of making -love to her as they meant to do, they found themselves making love to -the nice girls with whom she surrounded herself. When running upon the -love-making track with her, she switched them on, so to speak, to the -nice eligible girls, and they became engaged before they quite knew what -had happened. - -This was her art, Edmund knew, and he appreciated it as it deserved. - -She appreciated him as he deserved, he also acknowledged; for she had -never tried to switch him on to any of her girls. By never making love -to her he had proved himself to be no fit subject for the exercise of -her art. - -If a man truly loves a woman he will marry anyone whom she asks him to -marry. - -This, he knew, was the precept that Lady Innisfail inculcated upon the -young men--they were mostly very young men--who assured her that they -adored her. It rarely failed to bring them to their senses, she had -admitted to Edmund in the course of a confidential lapse. - -By bringing them to their senses she meant inducing them to ask the -right girls to marry them. - -Edmund felt that it was rather a pity that his friend Harold had never -adored Lady Innisfail. Harold had always liked her too well to make love -to her. This was rather a pity, Edmund felt. It practically disarmed -Lady Innisfail, otherwise she would have taken care that he made -straightforward love to Miss Craven. - -As for Harold, he strolled off with the yachtsmen, giving them to -understand that he intended sailing with them. The cutter was at her -moorings in the lough about a mile from the Castle, and there was a -narrow natural dock between the cliffs into which the dingey ran to -carry the party out to the yacht. - -It was at this point that Harold separated himself from the -yachtsmen--not without some mutterings on their part and the delivery of -a few reproaches with a fresh maritime flavour about them. - -“What was he up to at all?” they asked of one another. - -He could scarcely have told these earnest inquirers what he was up to. -But his mood would have been quite intelligible to them had they known -that he had, within the past half hour made up his mind to let nothing -interfere with his asking Helen Craven if she would be good enough to -marry him. - - - - -CHAPTER XII.--ON THE MYSTERY OF MAN. - -HE meant to ask her at night. He had felt convinced, on returning after -his adventure in his dinner dress, that nothing could induce him to -think of Miss Craven as a possible wife. While sitting at breakfast, -he had felt even more confident on this point; and yet now his mind was -made up to ask her to marry him. - -It must be admitted that his mood was a singular one, especially as, -with his mind full of his resolution to ask Miss Craven to marry him, -he was wandering around the rugged coastway, wondering by what means he -could bring himself by the side of the girl with whom he had crossed the -lough on the previous night. - -His mood will be intelligible to such persons as have had friends who -occasionally have found it necessary to their well-being to become -teetotallers. It is well known that the fascination of the prospect of -teetotalism is so great for such persons that the very thought of it -compels them to rush off in the opposite direction. They indulge in an -outburst of imbibing that makes even their best friends stand aghast, -and then they ‘take the pledge’ with the cheerfulness of a child. - -Harold Wynne felt inclined to allow his feelings an outburst, previous -to entering upon a condition in which he meant his feelings to be kept -in subjection. - -To engage himself to marry Miss Craven was, he believed, equivalent -to taking the pledge of the teetotaller so far as his feelings were -concerned. - -Meantime, however, he remained unpledged and with an unbounded sense of -freedom. - -And this was why he laughed loud and long when he saw in the course of -his stroll around the cliffs, a small oar jammed in a crevice of the -rocks a hundred feet below where he was walking. - -He laughed again when he had gone--not so cautiously as he might have -done--down to the crevice and released the oar. - -It was, he knew, the one that had gone adrift from the boat the previous -night. - -He climbed the cliff to the Banshee’s Cave and deposited the piece of -timber in the recesses of that place. Then he lay down on the coarse -herbage at the summit of the cliff until it was time to drift to the -Castle for lunch. Life at the Castle involved a good deal of drifting. -The guests drifted out in many directions after breakfast and -occasionally drifted back to lunch, after which they drifted about until -the dinner hour. - -While taking lunch he was in such good spirits as made Lady Innisfail -almost hopeless of him. - -Edmund Airey had told her the previous night that Harold intended asking -Miss Craven to marry him. Now, however, perceiving how excellent were -his spirits, she looked reproachfully across the table at Edmund. - -She was mutely asking him--and he knew it--how it was possible to -reconcile Harold’s good spirits with his resolution to ask Helen Craven -to marry him? She knew--and so did Edmund--that high spirits and the -Resolution are rarely found in association. - -An hour after lunch the girl with the Brow entreated Harold’s critical -opinion on the subject of a gesture in the delivery of a certain poem, -and the discussion of the whole question occupied another hour. The -afternoon was thus pretty far advanced before he found himself seated -alone in the boat which had been at the disposal of himself and Edmund -during the two previous afternoons. The oar that he had picked up was -lying at his feet along the timbers of the boat. - -The sun was within an hour of setting when Brian appeared at the Castle -bearing a letter for Lady Innisfail. It had been entrusted to him for -delivery to her ladyship by Mr. Wynne, he said. Where was Mr. Wynne? -That Brian would not take upon him to say; only he was at the opposite -side of the lough. Maybe he was with Father Conn, who was the best -of good company, or it wasn’t a bit unlikely that it was the District -Inspector of the Constabulary he was with. Anyhow it was sure that the -gentleman had took a great fancy to the queer places along the coast, -for hadn’t he been to the thrubble to give a look in at the Banshee’s -Cave, the previous night, just because he was sthruck with admiration of -the story of the Princess that he, Brian, had told him and Mr. Airey in -the boat? - -The letter that Lady Innisfail received and glanced at while drinking -tea on one of the garden seats outside the Castle, begged her ladyship -to pardon the writer’s not appearing at dinner that night, the fact -being that he had unexpectedly found an old friend who had taken -possession of him. - -“It was very nice of him to write, wasn’t it, my dear?” Lady Innisfail -remarked to her friend Miss Craven, who was filtering a novel by a -popular French author for the benefit of Lady Innisfail. “It was very -nice of him to write. Of course that about the friend is rubbish. The -charm of this neighbourhood is that no old friend ever turns up.” - -“You don’t think that--that--perhaps--” suggested Miss Craven with the -infinite delicacy of one who has been employed in the filtration of Paul -Bourget. - -“Not at all--not at all,” said Lady Innisfail, shaking her head. “If it -was his father it would be quite another matter.” - -“Oh!” - -“Lord Fotheringay is too great a responsibility even for me, and I don’t -as a rule shirk such things,” said Lady Innisfail. “But Harold is--well, -I’ll let you into a secret, though it is against myself: he has never -made love even to me.” - -“That is inexcusable,” remarked Miss Craven, with a little movement -of the eyebrows. She did not altogether appreciate Lady Innisfail’s -systems. She had not a sufficient knowledge of dynamics and the -transference of energy to be able to understand the beauty of the -“switch” principle. “But if he is not with a friend--or--or--the -other--” - -“The enemy--our enemy?” - -“Where can he be--where can he have been?” - -“Heaven knows! There are some things that are too wonderful for me. I -fancied long ago that I knew Man. My dear Helen, I was a fool. Man is -a mystery. What could that boy mean by going to the Banshee’s Cave last -night, when he might have been dancing with me--or you?” - -“Romance?” - -“Romance and rubbish mean the same thing to such men as Harold Wynne, -Helen--you should know so much,” said Lady Innisfail. “That is, of -course, romance in the abstract. The flutter of a human white frock -would produce more impression on a man than a whole army of Banshees.” - -“And yet the boatman said that Mr. Wynne had spent some time last -night at the Cave,” said Miss Craven. “Was there a white dress in the -question, do you fancy?” - -Lady Innisfail turned her large and luminous eyes upon her companion. -So she was accustomed to turn those orbs upon such young men as declared -that they adored her. The movement was supposed to be indicative of -infinite surprise, with abundant sympathy, and a trace of pity. - -Helen Craven met the luminous gaze with a smile, that broadened as she -murmured, “Dearest Lilian, we are quite alone. It is extremely unlikely -that your expression can be noticed by any of the men. It is practically -wasted.” - -“It is the natural and reasonable expression of the surprise I feel at -the wisdom of the--the--” - -“Serpent?” - -“Not quite. Let us say, the young matron, lurking beneath the -harmlessness of the--the--let us say the _ingenue_. A white dress! Pray -go on with ‘_Un Cour de Femme’._” - -Miss Craven picked up the novel which had been on the ground, flattened -out in a position of oriental prostration and humility before the wisdom -of the women. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII.--ON THE ART OF COLOURING. - -THE people of the village of Ballycruiskeen showed themselves quite -ready to enter into the plans of their pastor in the profitable -enterprise of making entertainment for Lady Innisfail and her guests. -The good pastor had both enterprise and imagination. Lady Innisfail had -told him confidentially that day that she wished to impress her English -visitors with the local colour of the region round about. Local colour -was a phrase that she was as fond of as if she had been an art critic; -but it so happened that the pastor had never heard the phrase before; -he promptly assured her, however, that he sympathized most heartily with -her ladyship’s aspirations in this direction. Yes, it was absolutely -necessary that they should be impressed with the local colour, and if, -with this impression, there came an appreciation of the requirements of -the chapel in the way of a new roof, it would please him greatly. - -The roof would certainly be put on before the winter, even if the work -had to be carried out at the expense of his Lordship, Lady Innisfail -said with enthusiasm; and if Father Constantine could only get up a wake -or a dance or some other festivity for the visitors, just to show them -how picturesque and sincere were the Irish race in the West, she would -take care that the work on the roof was begun without delay. - -Father Constantine--he hardly knew himself by that name, having -invariably been called Father Conn by his flock--began to have a -comprehensive knowledge of what was meant by the phrase “local colour.” - Did her ladyship insist on a wake, he inquired. - -Her ladyship said she had no foolish prejudices in the matter. She was -quite willing to leave the whole question of the entertainment in the -hands of his reverence. He knew the people best and he would be able to -say in what direction their abilities could be exhibited to the greatest -advantage. She had always had an idea, she confessed, that it was at -a wake they shone; but, of course, if Father Constantine thought -differently she would make no objection, but she would dearly like a -wake. - -The priest did not even smile for more than a minute; but he could not -keep that twinkle out of his eyes even if the chapel walls in addition -to the roof depended on his self-control. - -He assured her ladyship that she was perfectly right in her ideas. He -agreed with her that the wake was the one festivity that was calculated -to bring into prominence the varied talents of his flock. But the -unfortunate thing about it was its variableness. A wake was something -that could not be arranged for beforehand--at least not without -involving a certain liability to criminal prosecution. The elements of -a wake were simple enough, to be sure, but simple and all as they were, -they were not always forthcoming. - -Lady Innisfail thought this very provoking. Of course, expense was no -consideration--she hoped that the pastor understood so much. She hoped -he understood that if he could arrange for a wake that night she would -bear the expense. - -The priest shook his head. - -Well, then, if a wake was absolutely out of the question--she didn’t see -why it should be, but, of course, he knew best--why should he not get up -an eviction? She thought that on the whole the guests had latterly heard -more about Irish evictions than Irish wakes. There was plenty of local -colour in an eviction, and so far as she could gather from the -pictures she had seen in the illustrated papers, it was extremely -picturesque--yes, when the girls were barefooted, and when there was -active resistance. Hadn’t she heard something about boiling water? - -The twinkle had left the priest’s eyes as she prattled away. He had an -impulse to tell her that it was the class to which her ladyship belonged -and not that to which he belonged, who had most practice in that form of -entertainment known as the eviction. But thinking of the chapel roof, he -restrained himself. After all, Lord Innisfail had never evicted a family -on his Irish estate. He had evicted several families on his English -property, however; but no one ever makes a fuss about English evictions. -If people fail to pay their rent in England they know that they must go. -They have not the imagination of the Irish. - -“I’ll tell your ladyship what it is,” said Father Conn, before she had -quite come to the end of her prattle: “if the ladies and gentlemen who -have the honour to be your ladyship’s guests will take the trouble to -walk or drive round the coast to the Curragh of Lamdhu after supper--I -mean dinner--to-night, I’ll get up a celebration of the Cruiskeen for -you all.” - -“How delightful!” exclaimed her ladyship. “And what might a celebration -of the Cruiskeen be?” - -It was at this point that the imagination of the good father came to his -assistance. He explained, with a volubility that comes to the Celt -only when he is romancing, that the celebration of the Cruiskeen was -a prehistoric rite associated with the village of Ballycruiskeen. -Cruiskeen was, as perhaps her ladyship had heard, the Irish for a vessel -known to common people as a jug--it was, he explained, a useful vessel -for drinking out of--when it held a sufficient quantity. - -Of course Lady Innisfail had heard of a jug--she had even heard of a -song called “The Cruiskeen Lawn”--did that mean some sort of jug? - -It meant the little full jug, his reverence assured her. Anyhow, the -celebration of the Cruiskeen of Ballycruiskeen had taken place -for hundreds--most likely thousands--of years at the Curragh of -Lamdhu--Lamdhu meaning the Black Hand--and it was perhaps the most -interesting of Irish customs. Was it more interesting than a wake? Why, -a wake couldn’t hold a candle to a Cruiskeen, and the display of candles -was, as probably her ladyship knew, a distinctive feature of a wake. - -Father Conn, finding how much imaginary archæology Lady Innisfail would -stand without a protest, then allowed his imagination to revel in -the details of harpers--who were much more genteel than fiddlers, he -thought, though his flock preferred the fiddle--of native dances and -of the recitals of genuine Irish poems--probably prehistoric. All these -were associated with a Cruiskeen, he declared, and a Cruiskeen her -ladyship and her ladyship’s guests should have that night, if there was -any public spirit left in Ballycruiskeen, and he rather thought that -there was a good deal still left, thank God! - -Lady Innisfail was delighted. Local colour! Why, this entertainment was -a regular Winsor and Newton Cabinet. - -It included everything that people in England were accustomed to -associate with the Irish, and this was just what the guests would -relish. It was infinitely more promising than the simple national dance -for which she had been trying to arrange. - -She shook Father Conn heartily by the hand, but stared at him when he -made some remark about the chapel roof--she had already forgotten all -about the roof. - -The priest had not. - -“God forgive me for my romancing!” he murmured, when her ladyship had -departed and he stood wiping his forehead. “God forgive me! If it wasn’t -for the sake of the slate or two, the ne’er a word but the blessed truth -would have been forced from me. A Cruiskeen! How was it that the notion -seized me at all?” - -He hurried off to an ingenious friend and confidential adviser of his, -whose name was O’Flaherty, and who did a little in the horse-dealing -line--a profession that tends to develop the ingenuity of those -associated with it either as buyers or sellers--and Mr. O’Flaherty, -after hearing Father Conn’s story, sat down on the side of one of the -ditches, which are such a distinctive feature of Ballycruiskeen and the -neighbourhood, and roared with laughter. - -“Ye’ve done it this time, and no mistake, Father Conn,” he cried, when -he had partially recovered from his hilarity. “I always said you’d do it -some day, and ye’ve done it now. A Cruiskeen! Mother of Moses! A -Cruiskeen! Oh, but it’s yourself has the quare head, Father Conn!” - -“Give over your fun, and tell us what’s to be done--that’s what you’re -to do if there’s any good in you at all,” said the priest. - -“Oh, by my soul, ye’ll have to carry out the enterprise in your own way, -my brave Father Conn,” said Mr. O’Flaherty. “A Cruiskeen! A----” - -“Phinny O’Flaherty,” said the priest solemnly, “if ye don’t want to have -the curse of the Holy Church flung at that red head of yours, ye’ll rise -and put me on the way of getting up at least a jig or two on the Curragh -this night.” - -After due consideration Mr. O’Flaherty came to the conclusion that it -would be unwise on his part to put in motion the terrible machinery -of the Papal Interdict--if the forces of the Vatican were to be -concentrated upon him he might never again be able to dispose of a -“roarer” as merely a “whistler” to someone whose suspicions were -susceptible of being lulled by a brogue. Mr. Phineas O’Flaherty -consequently assured Father Conn that he would help his reverence, even -if the act should jeopardize his prospects of future happiness in -another world. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV.--ON AN IRISH DANCE. - -LADY INNISFAIL’S guests--especially those who had been wandering over -the mountains with guns all day--found her rather too indefatigable -in her search for new methods of entertaining them. The notion of an -after-dinner stroll of a few miles to the village of Ballycruiskeen -for the sake of witnessing an entertainment, the details of which Lady -Innisfail was unable to do more than suggest, and the attractions of -which were rather more than doubtful, was not largely relished at the -Castle. - -Lord Innisfail announced his intention of remaining where he had dined; -but he was one of the few men who could afford to brave Lady Innisfail’s -disdain and to decline to be chilled by her cold glances. The other men -who did not want to be entertained on the principles formulated by Lady -Innisfail, meanly kept out of her way after dinner. They hoped that they -might have a chance of declaring solemnly afterwards, that they had been -anxious to go, but had waited in vain for information as to the hour of -departure, the costume to be worn, and the password--if a password were -needed--to admit them to the historic rites of the Cruiskeen. - -One of the women declined to go, on the ground that, so far as she could -gather, the rite was not evangelical. Her views were evangelical. - -One of the men--he was an Orangeman from Ulster--boldly refused to -attend what was so plainly a device planned by the Jesuits for the -capture of the souls--he assumed that they had souls--of the Innisfail -family and their guests. - -Miss Craven professed so ardently to be looking forward to the -entertainment, that Mr. Airey, with his accustomed observance of the -distribution of high lights in demeanour as well as in conversation. -felt certain that she meant to stay at the Castle. - -His accuracy of observation was proved when the party were ready to -set out for Ballycruiskeen. MIss Craven’s maid earned that lady’s -affectionate regards to her hostess; she had been foolish enough to sit -in the sun during the afternoon with that fascinating novel, and as she -feared it would, her indiscretion had given her a headache accompanied -by dizziness. She would thus be unable to go with the general party -to the village, but if she possibly could, she would follow them in an -hour--perhaps less. - -Edmund Airey smiled the smile of the prophet who lives to see his -prediction realized--most of the prophets died violent deaths before -they could have that gratification. - -“Yes, it was undoubtedly an indiscretion,” he murmured. - -“Sitting in the sun?” said Lady Innisfail. - -“Reading Paul Bourget,” said he. - -“Of course,” said Lady Innisfail. “Talking of indiscretions, has anyone -seen--ah, never mind.” - -“It is quite possible that the old friend whom you say he wrote about, -may be a person of primitive habits--he may be inclined to retire -early,” said Mr. Airey. - -Lady Innisfail gave a little puzzled glance at him--the puzzled -expression vanished in a moment, however, before the ingenuousness of -his smile. - -“What a fool I am becoming!” she whispered. “I really never thought of -that.” - -“That was because you never turned your attention properly to the -mystery of the headache,” said he. - -Then they set off in the early moonlight for their walk along the cliff -path that, in the course of a mile or so, trended downward and through -the Pass of Lamdhu, with its dark pines growing half-way up the slope on -one side. The lower branches of the trees stretched fantastic arms over -the heads of the party walking on the road through the Pass. In -the moonlight these fantastic arms seemed draped. The trees seemed -attitudinizing to one another in a strange pantomime of their own. - -The village of Ballycruiskeen lay just beyond the romantic defile, -so that occasionally the inhabitants failed to hear the sound of the -Atlantic hoarsely roaring as it was being strangled in the narrow part -of the lough. They were therefore sometimes merry with a merriment -impossible to dwellers nearer the coast. - -It did not appear to their visitors that this was one of their merry -nights. The natives were commanded by their good priest to be merry for -“the quality,” under penalties with which they were well acquainted. But -merriment under a penalty is no more successful than the smile which is -manufactured in a photographer’s studio. - -Father Conn made the mistake of insisting on all the members of his -flock washing their faces. They had washed all the picturesqueness out -of them, Mr. Airey suggested. - -The Curragh of Ballycruiskeen was a somewhat wild moorland that -became demoralized into a bog at one extremity. There was, however, a -sufficiently settled portion to form a dancing green, and at one side -of this patch the shocking incongruity of chairs--of a certain sort--and -even a sofa--it was somewhat less certain--met the eyes of the visitors. - -“Mind this, ye divils,” the priest was saying in an affectionate way to -the members of his flock, as the party from the Castle approached. “Mind -this, it’s dancing a new roof on the chapel that ye are. Every step ye -take means a slate, so it does.” - -This was clearly the peroration of the pastor’s speech. - -The speech of Mr. Phineas O’Flaherty, who was a sort of unceremonious -master of the ceremonies, had been previously delivered, fortunately -when the guests were out of hearing. - -At first the entertainment seemed to be a very mournful one. It was -too like examination day at a village school to convey an idea of -spontaneous mirth. The “quality” sat severely on the incongruous -chairs--no one was brave enough to try the sofa--and some of the -“quality” used double eye-glasses with handles, for the better inspection -of the performers. This was chilling to the performers. - -In spite of the efforts of Father Conn and his stage manager, Mr. -O’Flaherty, the members of the cast for the entertainment assumed a -huddled appearance that did themselves great injustice. They declined to -group themselves effectively, but suggested to Mr. Durdan--who was -not silent on the subject--one of the illustrations to Foxe’s Book of -Martyrs--a scene in which about a score of persons about to be martyred -are shown to be awaiting, with an aspect of cheerful resignation that -deceived no one, their “turn” at the hands of the executioner. - -The merry Irish jig had a depressing effect at first. The priest was -well-meaning, but he had not the soul of an artist. When a man has -devoted all his spare moments for several years to the repression of -unseemly mirth, he is unwise to undertake, at a moment’s notice, the -duties of stimulating such mirth. Under the priest’s eye the jig was -robbed of its jiguity, so to speak. It was the jig of the dancing class. - -Mr. O’Flaherty threatened to scandalize Father Conn by a few -exclamations about the display of fetlocks--the priest had so little -experience of the “quality” that he fancied a suggestion of slang -would be offensive to their ears. He did not know that the hero of the -“quality” in England is the costermonger, and that a few years ago the -hero was the cowboy. But Edmund Airey, perceiving with his accustomed -shrewdness, how matters stood, managed to draw the priest away from -the halfhearted exponents of the dance, and so questioned him on the -statistics of the parish--for Father Conn was as hospitable with his -statistics as he was with his whiskey punch upon occasions--that half an -hour had passed before they returned together to the scene of the dance, -the priest with a five-pound note of Mr. Airey’s pressed against his -heart. - -“Murder alive! what’s this at all at all?” cried Father Conn, becoming -aware of the utterance of whoop after whoop by the dancers. - -“It’s the jig they’re dancin’ at last, an’ more power to thim!” cried -Phineas O’Flaherty, clapping his hands and giving an encouraging whoop -or two. - -He was right. The half dozen couples artistically dishevelled, and -rapidly losing the baleful recollections of having been recently tidied -up to meet the “quality”--rapidly losing every recollection of the -critical gaze of the “quality”--of the power of speech possessed by -the priest--of everything, clerical and lay, except the strains of the -fiddle which occupied an intermediate position between things lay and -clerical, being wholly demoniac--these half dozen couples were dancing -the jig with a breadth and feeling that suggested the youth of the world -and the reign of Bacchus. - -Black hair flowing in heavy flakes over shoulders unevenly bare--shapely -arms flung over heads in an attitude of supreme self-abandonment--a -passionate advance, a fervent retreat, then an exchange of musical cries -like wild gasps for breath, and ever, ever, ever the demoniac music of -the fiddle, and ever, ever, ever the flashing and flying from the ground -like the feet of the winged Hermes--flashing and flashing with the -moonlight over all, and the fantastic arms of the hill-side pines -stretched out like the fringed arms of a grotesque Pierrot--this was the -scene to which the priest returned with Edmund Airey. - -He threw up his hands and was about to rush upon the half-frenzied -dancers, when Edmund grasped him by the arm, and pointed mutely to the -attitude of the “quality.” - -Lady Innisfail and her friends were no longer sitting frigidly on their -chairs--the double eye-glasses were dropped, and those who had held them -were actually joining in the whoops of the dancers. Her ladyship was -actually clapping her hands in the style of encouragement adopted by Mr. -O’Flaherty. - -The priest stood in the attitude in which he had been arrested by the -artful Edmund Airey. His eyes and his mouth were open, and his right -hand was pressed against the five-pound note that he had just received. -There was a good deal of slate-purchasing potentialities in a five-pound -note. If her ladyship and her guests were shocked--as the priest, -never having heard of the skirt dance and its popularity in the -drawing-room--believed they should be, they were not displaying -their indignation in a usual way. They were almost as excited as the -performers. - -Father Conn seated himself without a word of protest, in one of the -chairs vacated by the Castle party. He felt that if her ladyship liked -that form of entertainment, the chapel roof was safe. The amount of -injury that would be done to the Foul Fiend by the complete re-roofing -of the chapel should certainly be sufficient to counteract whatever sin -might be involved in the wild orgy that was being carried on beneath the -light of the moon. This was the consolation that the priest had as he -heard whoop after whoop coming from the dancers. - -Six couples remained on the green dancing-space. The fiddler was a -wizened, deformed man with small gleaming eyes. He stood on a stool and -kept time with one foot. He increased the time of the dance so gradually -as to lead the dancers imperceptibly on until, without being aware of -it, they had reached a frenzied pitch that could not be maintained for -many minutes. But still the six couples continued wildly dancing, the -moonlight striking them aslant and sending six black quivering shadows -far over the ground. Suddenly a man dropped out of the line and lay -gasping on the grass. Then a girl flung herself with a cry into the arms -of a woman who was standing among the onlookers. Faster still and faster -went the grotesquely long arms of the dwarf fiddler--his shadow cast by -the moonlight was full of horrible suggestions--and every now and again -a falsetto whoop came from him, his teeth suddenly gleaming as his lips -parted in uttering the cry. - -The two couples, who now remained facing one another, changing feet with -a rapidity that caused them to appear constantly off the ground, were -encouraged by the shouts and applause of their friends. The air was full -of cries, in which the spectators from the Castle joined. Faster still -the demoniac music went, every strident note being clearly heard above -the shouts. But when one of the two couples staggered wildly and fell -with outstretched arms upon the grass, the shriek of the fiddle sounded -but faintly above the cries. - -The priest could restrain himself no longer. He sprang to his feet -and kicked the stool from under the fiddler, sending the misshapen man -sprawling in one direction and his instrument with an unearthly shriek -in another. - -Silence followed that shriek. It lasted but a few seconds, however. -The figure of a man--a stranger--appeared running across the open space -between the village and the Curragh, where the dance was being held. - -He held up his right hand in so significant a way, that the priest’s -foot was arrested in the act of implanting another kick upon the -stool, and the fiddler sat up on the ground and forgot to look for his -instrument through surprise at the apparition. - -“It’s dancin’ at the brink of the grave, ye are,” gasped the man, as he -approached the group that had become suddenly congested in anticipation -of the priest’s wrath. - -“Why, it’s only Brian the boatman, after all,” said Lady Innisfail. -“Great heavens! I had such a curious thought as he appeared. Oh, that -dancing! He did not seem to be a man.” - -“This is no doubt part of the prehistoric rite,” said Mr. Airey. - -“How simply lovely!” cried Miss Stafford. - -“In God’s name, man, tell us what you mean,” said the priest. - -“It’s herself,” gasped Brian. “It’s the one that’s nameless. Her wail is -heard over all the lough--I heard it with my ears and hurried here for -your reverence. Don’t we know that she never cries except for a death?” - -“He means the Banshee,” said Lady Innisfail. - -“The people, I’ve heard, think it unlucky to utter her name.” - -“So lovely! Just like savages!” said Miss Stafford. - -“I dare say the whole thing is only part of the ceremony of the -Cruiskeen,” said Mr. Durdan. - -“Brian O’Donal,” said the priest; “have you come here to try and terrify -the country side with your romancin’?” - -“By the sacred Powers, your reverence, I heard the cry of her myself, -as I came by the bend of the lough. If it’s not the truth that I’m after -speaking, may I be the one that she’s come for.” - -“Doesn’t he play the part splendidly?” said Lady Innisfail. “I’d -almost think that he was in earnest. Look how the people are crossing -themselves.” - -Miss Stafford looked at them through her double eye-glasses with the -long handle. - -“How lovely!” she murmured. “The Cruiskeen is the Oberammergau of -Connaught.” - -Edmund Airey laughed. - -“God forgive us all for this night!” said the priest. “Sure, didn’t I -think that the good that would come of getting on the chapel roof would -cover the shame of this night! Go to your cabins, my children. You -were not to blame. It was me and me only. My Lady”--he turned to the -Innisfail party--“this entertainment is over. God knows I meant it for -the best.” - -“But we haven’t yet heard the harper,” cried Lady Innisfail. - -“And the native bards,” said Miss Stafford. “I should so much like to -hear a bard. I might even recite a native poem under his tuition.” - -Miss Stafford saw a great future for native Irish poetry in English -drawing-rooms. It might be the success of a season. - -“The entertainment’s over,” said the priest. - -“It’s that romancer Brian, that’s done it all,” cried Phineas -O’Flaherty. - -“Mr. O’Flaherty, if it’s not the truth may I--oh, didn’t I hear her -voice, like the wail of a girl in distress?” cried Brian. - -“Like what?” said Mr. Airey. - -“Oh, you don’t believe anything--we all know that, sir,” said Brian. - -“A girl in distress--I believe in that, at any rate,” said Edmund. - -“Now!” said Miss Stafford, “don’t you think that I might recite -something to these poor people?” She turned to Lady Innisfail. “Poor -people! They may never have heard a real recitation--‘The Dove Cote,’ -‘Peter’s Blue Bell’--something simple.” - -There was a movement among her group. - -“The sooner we get back to the Castle the better it will be for all of -us,” said Lady Innisfail. “Yes, Father Constantine, we distinctly looked -for a native bard, and we are greatly disappointed. Who ever heard of a -genuine Cruiskeen without a native bard? Why, the thing’s absurd!” - -“A Connaught Oberammergau without a native bard! _Oh, Padre mio--Padre -mio!_” said Miss Stafford, daintily shaking her double eye-glasses at -the priest. - -“My lady,” said he, “you heard what the man said. How would it be -possible for us to continue this scene while that warning voice is in -the air?” - -“If you give us a chance of hearing the warning voice, we’ll forgive you -everything, and say that the Cruiskeen is a great success,” cried Lady -Innisfail. - -“If your ladyship takes the short way to the bend of the lough you may -still hear her,” said Brian. - -“God forbid,” said the priest. - -“Take us there, and if we hear her, I’ll give you half a sovereign,” - cried her ladyship, enthusiastically. - -“If harm comes of it don’t blame me,” said Brian. “Step out this way, my -lady.” - -“We may still be repaid for our trouble in coming so far,” said one of -the party. “If we do actually hear the Banshee, I, for one, will feel -more than satisfied.” - -Miss Stafford, as she hurried away with the party led by Brian, wondered -if it might not be possible to find a market for a Banshee’s cry in a -London drawing-room. A new emotion was, she understood, eagerly awaited. -The serpentine dance and the costermonger’s lyre had waned. It was -extremely unlikely that they should survive another season. If she were -to be first in the field with the Banshee’s cry, introduced with a few -dainty steps of the jig incidental to a poem with a refrain of “Asthore” - or “Mavourneen,” she might yet make a name for herself. - - - - -CHAPTER XV.--ON THE SHRIEK. - -IN a space of time that was very brief, owing to the resolution with -which Lady Innisfail declined to accept the suggestion of short cuts -by Brian, the whole party found themselves standing breathless at the -beginning of the line of cliffs. A mist saturated with moonlight had -drifted into the lough from the Atlantic. It billowed below their eyes -along the surface of the water, and crawled along the seared faces of -the cliffs, but no cold fingers of the many-fingered mist clasped the -higher ridges. The sound of the crashing of the unseen waves about the -bases of the cliffs filled the air, but there was no other sound. - -“Impostor!” said Edmund Airy, turning upon Brian. “You heard no White -Lady to-night. You have jeopardized our physical and your spiritual -health by your falsehood.” - -“You shall get no half sovereign from me,” said Lady Innisfail. - -“Is it me that’s accountable for her coming and going?” cried Brian, -with as much indignation as he could afford. Even an Irishman cannot -afford the luxury of being indignant with people who are in the habit -of paying him well, and an Irishman is ready to sacrifice much to -sentiment. “It’s glad we should all be this night not to hear the voice -of herself.” - -Lady Innisfail looked at him. She could afford to be indignant, and -she meant to express her indignation; but when it came to the point she -found that it was too profound to be susceptible of expression. - -“Oh, come away,” she said, after looking severely at Brian for nearly a -minute. - -“Dear Lady Innisfail,” said Mr. Durdan, “I know that you feel indignant, -fancying that we have been disappointed. Pray do not let such an idea -have weight with you for a moment.” - -“Oh, no, no,” said Miss Stafford, who liked speaking in public quite -as well as Mr. Durdan. “Oh, no, no; you have done your best, dear Lady -Innisfail. The dance was lovely; and though, of course, we should have -liked to hear a native bard or two, as well as the Banshee--” - -“Yet bards and Banshees we know to be beyond human control,” said Mr. -Airey. - -“We know that if it rested with you, we should hear the Banshee every -night,” said Mr. Durdan. - -“Yes, we all know your kindness of heart, dear Lady Innisfail,” resumed -Miss Stafford. - -“Indeed you should hear it, and the bard as well,” cried Lady Innisfail. -“But as Mr. Airey says--and he knows all about bard and Banshees and -such like things Great heaven! We are not disappointed after all, thank -heaven!” - -Lady Innisfail’s exclamation was uttered after there floated to the -cliffs where she and her friends were standing, from the rolling white -mist that lay below, the sound of a long wail. It was repeated, only -fainter, when she had uttered her thanksgiving, and it was followed by a -more robust shout. - -“Isn’t it lovely?” whispered Lady Innisfail. - -“I don’t like it,” said Miss Stafford, with a shudder. “Let us go -away--oh, let us go away at once.” - -Miss Stafford liked simulated horrors only. The uncanny in verse was -dear to her; but when, for the first time, she was brought face to face -with what would have formed the subject of a thrilling romance with a -suggestion of the supernatural, she shuddered. - -“Hush,” said Lady Innisfail; “if we remain quiet we may hear it again.” - -“I don’t want to hear it again,” cried Miss Stafford. “Look at the man. -He knows all about it. He is one of the natives.” - -She pointed to Brian, who was on his knees on the rock muttering -petitions for the protection of all the party. - -He knew, however, that his half sovereign was safe, whatever might -happen. Miss Stafford’s remark was reasonable. Brian should know all -about the Banshee and its potentialities of mischief. - -“Get up, you fool!” said Edmund Airey, catching the native by the -shoulder. “Don’t you know as well as I do that a boat with someone -aboard is adrift in the mist?” - -“Oh, I know that you don’t believe in anything.” said Brian. - -“I believe in your unlimited laziness and superstition,” said Edmund. -“I’m very sorry, my dear Lady Innisfail, to interfere with your -entertainment, but it’s perfectly clear to me that someone is in -distress at the foot of the cliffs.” - -“How can you be so horrid--so commonplace?” said Lady Innisfail. - -“He is one of the modern iconoclasts,” said another of the group. -“He would fling down our most cherished beliefs. He told me that he -considered Madame Blavatsky a swindler.” - -“Dear Mr. Airey,” said Miss Stafford, who was becoming less timid as the -wail from the sea had not been repeated. “Dear Mr. Airey, let us entreat -of you to leave us our Banshee whatever you may take from us.” - -“There are some things in heaven and earth that refuse to be governed by -a phrase,” sneered Mr. Durdan. - -“Mules and the members of the Opposition are among them,” said Edmund, -preparing to descend the cliffs by the zig-zag track. - -He had scarcely disappeared in the mist when there was a shriek from -Miss Stafford, and pointing down the track with a gesture, which for -expressiveness, she had never surpassed in the most powerful of her -recitations, she flung herself into Lady Innisfail’s arms. - -“Great heavens!” cried Lady Innisfail. “It is the White Lady herself’!” - -“We’re all lost, and the half sovereign’s nothing here or there,” said -Brian, in a tone of complete resignation. - -Out of the mist there seemed to float a white figure of a girl. She -stood for some moments with the faint mist around her, and while the -group on the cliff watched her--some of them found it necessary to cling -together--another white figure floated through the mist to the side of -the first, and then came another figure--that of a man--only he did not -float. - -“I wish you would not cling quite so close to me, my dear; I can’t see -anything of what’s going on,” said Lady Innisfail to Miss Stafford, -whose head was certainly an inconvenience to Lady Innisfail. - -With a sudden, determined movement she shifted the head from her bosom -to her shoulder, and the instant that this feat was accomplished she -cried out, “Helen Craven!” - -“Helen Craven?” said Miss Stafford, recovering the use of her head in a -moment. - -“Yes, it’s Helen Craven or her ghost that’s standing there,” said Lady -Innisfail. - -“And Harold Wynne is with her. Are you there, Wynne?” sang out Mr. -Durdan. - -“Hallo?” came the voice of Harold from below. “Who is there?” - -“Why, we’re all here,” cried Edmund, emerging from the mist at his side. -“How on earth did you get here?--and Miss Craven--and--he looked at the -third figure--he had never seen the third figure before. - -“Oh, it’s a long story,” laughed Harold. “Will you give a hand to Miss -Craven?” - -Mr. Airey said it would please him greatly to do so, and by his kindly -aid Miss Craven was, in the course of a few minutes, placed by the side -of Lady Innisfail. - -She took the place just vacated by Miss Stafford on Lady Innisfail’s -bosom, and was even more embarrassing to Lady Innisfail than the other -had been. Helen Craven was heavier, to start with. - -But it was rather by reason of her earnest desire to see the strange -face, that Lady Innisfail found Helen’s head greatly in her way. - -“Lady Innisfail, when Miss Craven is quite finished with you, I shall -present to you Miss Avon,” said Harold. - -“I should be delighted,” said Lady Innisfail. “Dearest Helen, can you -not spare me for a moment?” - -Helen raised her head. - -It was then that everyone perceived how great was the devastation done -by the mist to the graceful little curled fringes of her forehead. -Her hair was lank, showing that she had as massive a brow as Miss -Stafford’s, if she wished to display it. - -“It is a great pleasure to me to meet you, Miss Avon; I’m sure that I -have often heard of you from Mr. Wynne and--oh, yes, many other people,” - said Lady Innisfail. “But just now--well, you can understand that we are -all bewildered.” - -“Yes, we are all bewildered,” said Miss Avon. “You see, we heard the cry -of the White Lady--” - -“Of course,” said Harold; “we heard it too. The White Lady was Miss -Craven. She was in one of the boats, and the mist coming on so suddenly, -she could not find her way back to the landing place. Luckily we were -able to take her boat in tow before it got knocked to pieces. I hope -Miss Craven did not over-exert herself.” - -“I hope not,” said Lady Innisfail. “What on earth induced you to go out -in a boat alone, Helen--and suffering from so severe a headache into the -bargain?” - -“I felt confident that the cool air would do me good,” said Miss Craven. -somewhat dolefully. - -Lady Innisfail looked at her in silence for some moments, then she -laughed. - -No one else seemed to perceive any reason for laughter. - -Lady Innisfail then turned her eyes upon Miss Avon. The result of her -observation was precisely the same as the result of Harold’s first sight -of that face had been. Lady Innisfail felt that she had never seen so -beautiful a girl. - -Then Lady Innisfail laughed again. - -Finally she looked at Harold and laughed for the third time. The space -of a minute nearly was occupied by her observations and her laughter. - -“I think that on the whole we should hasten on to the Castle,” said she -at length. “Miss Craven is pretty certain to be fatigued--we are, at -any rate. Of course you will come with us, Miss Avon.” - -The group on the cliff ceased to be a group when she had spoken; but -Miss Avon did not move with the others. Harold also remained by her -side. - -“I don’t know what I should do,” said Miss Avon. “The boat is at the -foot of the cliff.” - -“It would be impossible for you to find your course so long as the mist -continues,” said Harold. “Miss Avon and her father--he is an old friend -of mine--we breakfasted together at my college--are living in the White -House--you may have heard its name--on the opposite shore--only a mile -by sea, but six by land,” he added, turning to Lady Innisfail. - -“Returning to-night is out of the question,” said Lady Innisfail. “You -must come with us to the Castle for to-night. I shall explain all to -your father to-morrow, if any explanation is needed.” Miss Avon shook -her head, and murmured a recognition of Lady Innisfail’s kindness. - -“There is Brian,” said Harold. “He will confront your father in the -morning with the whole story.” - -“Yes, with the whole story,” said Lady Innisfail, with an amusing -emphasis on the words. “I already owe Brian half a sovereign.” - -“Oh, Brian will carry the message all for love,” cried the girl. - -Lady Innisfail did her best to imitate the captivating freshness of the -girl’s words. - -“All for love--all for love!” she cried. - -Harold smiled. He remembered having had brought under his notice a toy -nightingale that imitated the song of the nightingale so closely that -the Jew dealer, who wanted to sell the thing, declared that no one on -earth could tell the difference between the two. - -The volubility of Brian in declaring that he would do anything out of -love for Miss Avon was amazing. He went down the cliff face to bring the -boats round to the regular moorings, promising to be at the Castle in -half an hour to receive Miss Avon’s letter to be put into her father’s -hand at his hour of rising. - -By the time Miss Avon and Harold had walked to the Castle with Lady -Innisfail, they had acquainted her with a few of the incidents of the -evening--how they also had been caught by the mist while in their boat, -and had with considerable trouble succeeded in reaching the craft in -which Miss Craven was helplessly drifting. They had heard Miss Craven’s -cry for help, they said, and Harold had replied to it. But still they -had some trouble picking up her boat. - -Lady Innisfail heard all the story, and ventured to assert that all was -well that ended well. - -“And this is the end,” she cried, as she pointed to the shining hall -seen through the open doors. - -“Yes, this is the end of all--a pleasant end to the story,” said the -girl. - -Harold followed them as they entered. - -He wondered if this was the end of the story, or only the beginning. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI.--ON THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER. - -IT was said by some people that the judge, during his vacation, had -solved the problem set by the philosopher to his horse. He had learned -to live on a straw a day, only there was something perpetually at the -end of his straw--something with a preposterous American name in a -tumbler to match. - -He had the tumbler and the straw on a small table by his side while he -watched, with great unsteadiness, the strokes of the billiard players. - -From an hour after dinner he was in a condition of perpetual dozing. -This was his condition also from an hour after the opening of a case in -court, which required the closest attention to enable even the most -delicately appreciative mind to grasp even its simplest elements. - -He had, he said, been the most widely awake of counsel for thirty years, -so that he rather thought he was entitled to a few years dozing as a -judge. - -Other people--they were his admirers--said that his dozing represented -an alertness far beyond that of the most conscientiously wakeful and -watchful of the judicial establishment in England. - -It is easy to resemble Homer--in nodding--and in this special Homeric -quality the judge excelled; but it was generally understood that it -would not be wise to count upon his nodding himself into a condition of -unobservance. He had already delivered judgment on the character of the -fine cannons of one of the players in the hall, and upon the hazards of -the other. He had declined to mark the game, however, and he had -thereby shown his knowledge of human nature. There had already been -four disputes as to the accuracy of the marking. (It was being done by a -younger man). - -“How can a man expect to make his favourite break after some hours on -a diabolical Irish jaunting car?” one of the players was asking, as he -bent over the table. - -The words were uttered at the moment of Harold’s entrance, close behind -Lady Innisfail and Miss Avon. - -Hearing the words he stood motionless before he had taken half-a-dozen -steps into the hall. - -Lady Innisfail also stopped at the same instant, and looked over her -shoulder at Harold. - -Through the silence there came the little click of the billiard balls. - -The speaker gave the instinctive twist of the practised billiard player -toward the pocket that he wished the ball to approach. Then he took a -breath and straightened himself in a way that would have made any close -observer aware of the fact that he was no longer a young man. - -There was, however, more than a suggestion of juvenility in his manner -of greeting Lady Innisfail. He was as effusive as is consistent with the -modern spirit of indifference to the claims of hostesses and all other -persons. - -He was not so effusive when he turned to Harold; but that was only to be -expected, because Harold was his son. - -“No, my boy,” said Lord Fotheringay, “I didn’t fancy that you would -expect to see me here to-night--I feel surprised to find myself here. It -seems like a dream to me--a charming dream-vista with Lady Innisfail at -the end of the vista. Innisfail always ruins his chances of winning a -game by attempting a screw back into the pocket. He leaves everything -on. You’ll see what my game is now.” - -He chalked his cue and bent over the table once more. - -Harold watched him make the stroke. “You’ll see what my game is,” said -Lord Fotheringay, as he settled himself down to a long break. - -Harold questioned it greatly. His father’s games were rarely -transparent. - -“What on earth can have brought him?--oh, he takes one’s breath away,” - whispered Lady Innisfail to Harold, with a pretty fair imitation of a -smile lingering about some parts of her face. - -Harold shook his head. There was not even the imitation of a smile about -his face. - -Lady Innisfail gave a laugh, and turned quickly to Miss Avon. - -“My husband will be delighted to meet you, my dear,” said she. “He is -certain to know your father.” - -Harold watched Lord Innisfail shaking hands with Miss Avon at the -side of the billiard table, while his father bent down to make another -stroke. When the stroke was played he saw his father straighten himself -and look toward Miss Avon. - -The look was a long one and an interested one. Then the girl disappeared -with Lady Innisfail, and the look that Lord Fotheringay cast at his son -was a short one, but it was quite as intelligible to that soft as the -long look at Miss Avon had been to him. - -Harold went slowly and in a singularly contemplative mood to his -bedroom, whence he emerged in a space, wearing a smoking-jacket and -carrying a pipe and tobacco pouch. - -The smoking-jackets that glowed through the hall towards the last hour -of the day at Castle Innisfail were a dream of beauty. - -Lady Innisfail had given orders to have a variety of sandwiches and -other delicacies brought to the hall for those of her guests who had -attended the festivities at Ballycruiskeen; and when Harold found his -way downstairs, he perceived in a moment that only a few of the feeble -ones of the house-party--the fishermen who had touches of rheumatism and -the young women who cherished their complexions--were absent from the -hall. - -He also noticed that his father was seated by the side of Beatrice Avon -and that he was succeeding in making himself interesting to her. - -He knew that his father generally succeeded in making himself -interesting to women. - -In another part of the hall Lady Innisfail was succeeding in making -herself interesting to some of the men. She also was accustomed to -meet with success in this direction. She was describing to such as -had contrived to escape the walk to Ballycruiskeen, the inexhaustibly -romantic charm of the scene on the Curragh while the natives were -dancing, and the descriptions certainly were not deficient in colour. - -The men listened to her with such an aspect of being enthralled, she -felt certain that they were full of regret that they had failed to -witness the dance. It so happened, however, that the result of her -account of the scene was to lead those of her audience who had remained -at the Castle, to congratulate themselves upon a lucky escape. - -And all this time, Harold noticed that his father was making himself -interesting to Beatrice Avon. - -The best way for any man to make himself interesting to a woman is to -show himself interested in her. He knew that his father was well aware -of this fact, and that he was getting Beatrice Avon to tell him all -about herself. - -But when Lady Innisfail reached the final situation in her dramatic -account of the dance, and hurried her listeners to the brink of the -cliff--when she reproduced in a soprano that was still vibratory, the -cry that had sounded through the mist--when she pointed to Miss Avon -in telling of the white figure that had emerged from the mist--(Lady -Innisfail did not think it necessary to allude to Helen Craven, who had -gone to bed)--the auditors’ interest was real and not simulated. They -looked at the white figure as Lady Innisfail pointed to her, and their -interest was genuine. - -They could at least appreciate this element of the evening’s -entertainment, and as they glanced at Harold, who was eating a number of -sandwiches in a self-satisfied way, they thought that they might -safely assume that he was the luckiest of the _dramatis personae_ of the -comedy--or was it a tragedy?--described by Lady Innisfail. - -And all this time Harold was noticing that his father, by increasing -his interest in Beatrice, was making himself additionally interesting to -her. - -But the judge had also--at the intervals between his Homeric nods--been -noticing the living things around him. He put aside his glass and its -straw--he had been toying with it all the evening, though the liquid -that mounted by capillary attraction up the tube was something noisome, -without a trace of alcohol--and seated himself on the other side of the -girl. - -He assured her that he had known her father. Lord Fotheringay did not -believe him; but this was not to the point, and he knew it. What was to -the point was the fact that the judge understood the elements of the art -of interesting a girl almost as fully as Lord Fotheringay did, without -having quite made it the serious business of his life. The result was -that Miss Avon was soon telling the judge all about herself--this -was what the judge professed to be the most anxious to hear--and Lord -Fotheringay lit a cigar. - -He felt somewhat bitterly on the subject of the judge’s intrusion. But -the feeling did not last for long. He reflected upon the circumstance -that Miss Avon could never have heard that he himself was a very wicked -man. - -He knew that the interest that attaches to a man with a reputation for -being very wicked is such as need fear no rival. He felt that should his -power to interest a young woman ever be jeopardized, he could still fall -back upon his bad character and be certain to attract her. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII.--ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. - -OF course,” said Lady Innisfail to Edmund Airey the next day. “Of -course, if Harold alone had rescued Helen from her danger last night, -all would have been well. You know as well as I do that when a man -rescues a young woman from a position of great danger, he can scarcely -do less than ask her to marry him.” - -“Of course,” replied Edmund. “I really can’t see how, if he has any -dramatic appreciation whatever, he could avoid asking her to marry him.” - -“It is beyond a question,” said Lady Innisfail. “So that if Harold had -been alone in the boat all would have been well. The fact of Miss Avon’s -being also in the boat must, however, be faced. It complicates matters -exceedingly.” - -Edmund shook his head gravely. - -“I knew that you would see the force of it,” resumed Lady Innisfail. -“And then there is his father--his father must be taken into account.” - -“It might be as well, though I know that Lord Fotheringay’s views are -the same as yours.” - -“I am sure that they are; but why, then, does he come here to sit by the -side of the other girl and interest her as he did last evening?” - -“Lord Fotheringay can never be otherwise than interesting, even to -people who do not know how entirely devoid of scruple he is.” - -“Of course I know all that; but why should he come here and sit beside -so very pretty a girl as this Miss Avon?” - -“There is no accounting for tastes, Lady Innisfail. - -“You are very stupid, Mr. Airey. What I mean is, why should Lord -Fotheringay behave in such a way as must force his son’s attention to be -turned in a direction that--that--in short, it should not be turned in? -Heaven knows that I want to do the best for Harold--I like him so well -that I could almost wish him to remain unmarried. But you know as well -as I do, that it is absolutely necessary for him to marry a girl with a -considerable amount of money.” - -“That is as certain as anything can be. I gave him the best advice in -my power on this subject, and he announced his intention of asking Miss -Craven to marry him.” - -“But instead of asking her he strolled round the coast to that wretched -cave, and there met, by accident, the other girl--oh, these other girls -are always appearing on the scene at the wrong moment.” - -“The world would go on beautifully if it were not for the Other Girl.” - said Edmund. “If you think of it, there is not an event in history that -has not turned upon the opportune or inopportune appearance of the Other -Girl. Nothing worth speaking of has taken place, unless by the agency of -the Other Girl.” - -“And yet Lord Fotheringay comes here and sits by the side of this -charming girl, and his son watches him making himself interesting to her -as, alas! he can do but too easily. Mr. Airey, I should not be surprised -if Harold were to ask Miss Avon to-day to marry him--I should not, -indeed.” - -“Oh, I think you take too pessimistic a view of the matter altogether, -Lady Innisfail. Anyhow, I don’t see that we can do more than we have -already done. I think I should feel greatly inclined to let Providence -and Lord Fotheringay fight out the matter between them.” - -“Like the archangel and the Other over the body of Moses?” - -“Well, something like that.” - -“No, Mr. Airey; I don’t believe in Providence as a match-maker.” - -Mr. Airey gave a laugh. He wondered if it was possible that Harold -had mentioned to her that he, Edmund, had expressed the belief that -Providence as a match-maker had much to learn. - -“I don’t see how we can interfere,” said he. “I like Harold Wynne -greatly. He means to do something in the world, and I believe he will -do it. He affords a convincing example of the collapse of heredity as a -principle. I like him if only for that.” - -Lady Innisfail looked at him in silence for a few moments. - -“Yes,” she said, slowly. “Harold does seem to differ greatly from his -father. I wonder if it is the decree of Providence that has kept him -without money.” - -“Do you suggest that the absence of money--?” - -“No, no; I suggest nothing. If a man must be wicked he’ll be wicked -without money almost as readily as with it. Only I wonder, if Harold had -come in for the title and the property--such as it was--at the same age -as his father was when he inherited all, would he be so ready as you say -he is to do useful work on the side of the government of his country?” - -“That is a question for the philosophers,” said Edmund. - -In this unsatisfactory way the conversation between Lady Innisfail and -Mr. Airey on the morning after Lord Fotheringay’s arrival at the Castle, -came to an end. No conversation that ends in referring the question -under consideration to the philosophers, can by any possibility be -thought satisfactory. But the conversation could not well be continued -when Miss Craven, by the side of Miss Avon, was seen to be approaching. - -Edmund Airey turned his eyes upon the two girls, then they rested upon -the face of Beatrice. - -As she came closer his glance rested upon the eyes of Beatrice. The -result of his observation was to convince him that he had never before -seen such beautiful eyes. - -They were certainly gray; and they were as full of expression as gray -eyes can be. They were large, and to look into them seemed like looking -into the transparent depths of an unfathomed sea--into the transparent -heights of an inexhaustible heaven. - -A glimpse of heaven suggests the bliss of the beatified. A glimpse of -the ocean suggests shipwreck. - -He knew this perfectly well as he looked at her eyes; but only for an -instant did it occur to him that they conveyed some message to him. - -Before he had time to think whether the message promised the bliss of -the dwellers in the highest heaven, or the disaster of those who go down -into the depths of the deepest sea, he was inquiring from Helen Craven -if the chill of which she had complained on the previous night, had -developed into a cold. - -Miss Craven assured him that, so far from experiencing any ill effects -from her adventure, she had never felt better in all her life. - -“But had it not been for Miss Avon’s hearing my cries of despair, -goodness knows where I should have been in another ten minutes,” she -added, putting her arm round Miss Avon’s waist, and looking, as Edmund -had done, into the mysterious depths of Miss Avon’s gray eyes. - -“Nonsense!” said Miss Avon. “To tell you the plain truth, I did not hear -your cries. It was Mr. Wynne who said he heard the White Lady wailing -for her lover.” - -“How could he translate the cry so accurately?” said Edmund. “Do you -suppose that he had heard the Banshee’s cry at the same place?” - -He kept his eyes upon Miss Avon’s face, and he saw in a moment that she -was wondering how much he knew of the movements of Harold Wynne during -the previous two nights. - -Helen Craven looked at him also pretty narrowly. She was wondering if he -had told anyone that he had suggested to her the possibility of Harold’s -being in the neighbourhood of the Banshee’s Cave during the previous -evening. - -Both girls laughed in another moment, and then Edmund Airey laughed -also--in a sort of way. Lady Innisfail was the last to join in the -laugh. But what she laughed at was the way in which Edmund had laughed. - -And while this group of four were upon the northern terrace, Harold was -seated the side of his father on one of the chairs that faced the south. -Lord Fotheringay was partial to a southern aspect. His life might be -said to be a life of southern aspects. He meant that it should never be -out of the sun, not because some of the incidents that seemed to him to -make life worth preserving were such as could best stand the searching -light of the sun, but simply because his was the nature of the -butterfly. He was a butterfly of fifty-seven--a butterfly that found it -necessary to touch up with artificial powders the ravages of years upon -the delicate, downy bloom of youth--a butterfly whose wings had now and -again been singed by contact with a harmful flame--whose still shapely -body was now and again bent with rheumatism. Surely the rheumatic -butterfly is the most wretched of insects! - -He had fluttered away from a fresh singeing, he was assuring his son. -Yes, he had scarcely strength left in his wings to carry him out of the -sphere of influence of the flame. He had, he said in a mournful tone, -been very badly treated. She had treated him very badly. The Italian -nature was essentially false--he might have known it--and when an -Italian nature is developed with a high soprano, very shrill in its -upper register, the result was--well, the result was that the flame had -singed the wings of the elderly insect who was Harold’s father. - -“Talk of money!” he cried, with so sudden an expression of emotion that -a few caked scraps of sickly, roseate powder fluttered from the -crinkled lines of his forehead--Talk of money! It was not a matter of -hundreds--he was quite prepared for that--but when the bill ran up to -thousands--thousands--thousands--oh, the whole affair was sickening. -(Harold cordially agreed with him, though he did not express himself to -this effect). Was it not enough to shake one’s confidence in woman--in -human nature--in human art (operatic)--in the world? - -Yes, it was the Husband. - -The Husband, Lord Fotheringay was disposed to regard in pretty much -the same light as Mr. Airey regarded the Other Girl. The Husband was not -exactly the obstacle, but the inconvenience. He had a habit of turning -up, and it appeared that in the latest of Lord Fotheringay’s experiences -his turning up had been more than usually inopportune. - -“That is why I followed so close upon the heels of my letter to you,” - said the father. “The crash came in a moment--it was literally a -crash too, now that I think upon it, for that hot-blooded ruffian, her -husband, caught one corner of the table cloth--we were at supper--and -swept everything that was on the table into a corner of the room. Yes, -the bill is in my portmanteau. And she took his part. Heavens above! -She actually took his part. I was the scoundrel--_briccone!_--the coarse -Italian is still ringing in my ears. It was anything but a charming -duetto. He sang a basso--her upper register was terribly shrill--I had -never heard it more so. Artistically the scene was a failure; but I had -to run for all that. Humiliating, is it not, to be overcome by something -that would, if subjected to the recognized canons of criticism, be -pronounced a failure? And he swore that he would follow me and have my -life. Enough. You got my letter. Fortune is on your side, my boy. You -saved her life last night.” - -“Whose life did I save?” asked the son. “Whose life? Heavens above! Have -you been saving more than one life?” - -“Not more than one--a good deal less than one. Don’t let us get into -a sentimental strain, pater. You are the chartered--ah, the chartered -sentimentalist of the family. Don’t try and drag me into your strain. -I’m not old enough. A man cannot pose as a sentimentalist nowadays until -he is approaching sixty.” - -“Really? Then I shall have to pause for a year or two still. Let us put -that question aside for a moment. Should I be exceeding my privileges -if I were to tell you that I am ruined?--Financially ruined, I mean, -of course; thank heaven, I am physically as strong as I was--ah, three -years ago.” - -“You said something about my allowance, I think.” - -“If I did not I failed in my duty as a father, and I don’t often do -that, my boy--thank God, I don’t often do that.” - -“No,” said Harold. “If the whole duty of a father is comprised in -acquainting his son with the various reductions that he says he finds -it necessary to make in his allowance, you are the most exemplary of -fathers, pater.” - -“There is a suspicion of sarcasm--or what is worse, epigram in that -phrase,” said the father. “Never mind, you cannot epigram away the stern -fact that I have now barely a sufficient income to keep body and soul -together. I wish you could.” - -“So do I,” said Harold. “But yours is a _ménage à trois_. It is not -merely body and soul with your but body, soul, and sentiment--it is the -third element that is the expensive one.” - -“I dare say you are right. Anyhow, I grieve for your position, my boy. -If it had pleased Heaven to make me a rich man, I would see that your -allowance was a handsome one.” - -“But since it has pleased the other Power to make you a poor one--” - -“You must marry Miss Craven--that’s the end of the whole matter, and an -end that most people would be disposed to regard as a very happy one, -too. She is a virtuous young woman, and what is better, she dresses -extremely well. What is best of all, she has several thousands a year.” - -There was a suggestion of the eighteenth century phraseology in Lord -Fotheringay’s speech, that made him seem at least a hundred years old. -Surely people did not turn up their eyes and talk of virtue since the -eighteenth century, Harold thought. The word had gone out. There was -no more need for it. The quality is taken for granted in the nineteenth -century. - -“You are a trifle over-vehement,” said he. - -“Have I ever refused to ask Miss Craven to marry me?” - -“Have you ever asked her--that’s the matter before us?” - -“Never. But what does that mean? Why, simply that I have before me -instead of behind me a most interesting quarter of an hour--I suppose -a penniless man can ask a wealthy woman inside a quarter of an hour, to -marry him. The proposition doesn’t take longer in such a case than an -honourable one would.” - -“You are speaking in a way that is not becoming in a son addressing his -father,” said Lord Fotheringay. “You almost make me ashamed of you.” - -“You have had no reason to be ashamed of me yet,” said Harold. “So long -as I refrain from doing what you command me to do, I give you no cause -to be ashamed of me.” - -“That is a pretty thing for a son to say,” cried the father, -indignantly. - -“For heaven’s sake don’t let us begin a family broil under the windows -of a house where we are guests,” said the son, rising quickly from the -chair. “We are on the border of a genuine family bickering. For God’s -sake let us stop in time.” - -“I did not come here to bicker,” said the father. “Heavens above! Am -I not entitled to some show of gratitude at least for having come more -than a thousand miles--a hundred of them in an Irish train and ten of -them on an Irish jolting car--simply to see that you are comfortably -settled for life?” - -“Yes,” said the son, “I suppose I should feel grateful to you for coming -so far to tell me that you are ruined and that I am a partner in your -ruin.” He had not seated himself, and now he turned his back upon his -father and walked round to the west side of the Castle where some of -the girls were strolling. They were waiting to see how the day would -develop--if they should put on oilskins and sou’westers or gauzes -and gossamer--the weather on the confines of the ocean knows only the -extremes of winter or summer. - -The furthest of the watchers were, he perceived, Edmund Airey and Miss -Avon. He walked toward them, and pronounced in a somewhat irresponsible -way an opinion upon the weather. - -Before the topic had been adequately discussed, Mr. Durdan and another -man came up to remind Mr. Airey that he had given them his word to be of -their party in the fishing boat, where they were accustomed to study the -Irish question for some hours daily. - -Mr. Airey protested that his promise had been wholly a conditional one. -It had not been made on the assumption that the lough should be moaning -like a Wagnerian trombone, and it could not be denied that such notes -were being produced by the great rollers beneath the influence of a -westerly wind. - -Harold gave a little shrug to suggest to Beatrice that the matter was -not one that concerned her or himself in the least, and that it might -be as well if Mr. Airey and his friends were left to discuss it by -themselves. - -The shrug scarcely suggested all that he meant it to suggest, but in -the course of a minute he was by the side of the girl a dozen yards away -from the three men. - -“I wonder if you chanced to tell Mr. Airey of the queer way you and I -met,” she said in a moment. - -“How could I have told any human being of that incident?” he cried. “Why -do you ask me such a question?” - -“He knows all about it--so much is certain,” said she. “Oh, yes, he gave -me to understand so much--not with brutal directness, of course.” - -“No, I should say not--brutal directness is not in his line,” said -Harold. - -“But the result is just the same as if he had been as direct as--as a -girl.” - -“As a girl?” - -“Yes. He said something about Miss Craven’s voice having suggested -something supernatural to Brian, and then he asked me all at once if -there had been any mist on the previous evening when I had rowed across -the lough. Now I should like to know how he guessed that I had crossed -the lough on the previous night.” - -“He is clever--diabolically clever,” said Harold after a pause. “He was -with Miss Craven in the hall--they had been dancing--when I returned--I -noticed the way he looked at me. Was there anything in my face to tell -him that--that I had met you?” - -She looked at his face and laughed. - -“Your face,” she said. “Your face--what could there have been apparent -on your face for Mr. Airey to read?” - -“What--what?” his voice was low. He was now looking into her gray eyes. -“What was there upon my face? I cannot tell. Was it a sense of doom? God -knows. Now that I look upon your face--even now I cannot tell whether I -feel the peace of God which passes understanding, or the doom of those -who go down to the sea and are lost.” - -“I do not like to hear you speak in that way,” said she. “It would be -better for me to die than to mean anything except what is peaceful and -comforting to all of God’s creatures.” - -“It would be better for you to die,” said he. He took his eyes away from -hers. They stood side by side in silence for some moments, before he -turned suddenly to her and said in quite a different strain. “I shall -row you across the lough when you are ready. Will you go after lunch?” - -“I don’t think that I shall be going quite so soon,” said she. “The fact -is that Lady Innisfail was good enough to send Brian with another letter -to my father--a letter from herself, asking my father to come to the -Castle for a day or two, but, whether he comes or not, to allow me to -remain for some days.” - -Again some moments passed before Harold spoke. - -“I want you to promise to let me know where you go when you leave -Ireland,” said he. “I don’t want to lose sight of you. The world is -large. I wandered about in it for nearly thirty years before meeting -you.” - -She was silent. It seemed as if she was considering whether or not his -last sentence should be regarded as a positive proof of the magnitude of -the world. - -She appeared to come to the conclusion that it would be unwise to -discuss the question--after all, it was only a question of statistics. - -“If you wish it,” said she, “I shall let you know our next -halting-place. I fancy that my poor father is less enthusiastic than he -was some years ago on the subject of Irish patriotism. At any rate, I -think that he has worked out all the battles fought in this region.” - -“Only let me know where you go,” said he. “I do not want to lose sight -of you. What did you say just now--peace and comfort to God’s creatures? -No, I do not want to lose sight of you.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII.--ON THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST. - -THE people--Edmund Airey was one of them--who were accustomed to point -to Harold Wynne as an example of the insecurity of formulating any -definite theory of heredity, had no chance of being made aware of the -nature of the conversations in which he had taken part, or they might -not have been quite so ready to question the truth of that theory. - -His father had made it plain to him, both by letter and word of mouth, -that the proper course for him to pursue was one that involved asking -Helen Craven to marry him--the adoption of any other course, even a -prosaic one, would practically mean ruin to him; and yet he had gone -straight from the side of his father, not to the side of Miss Craven, -but to the side of Miss Avon. And not only had he done this, but he had -looked into the gray eyes of Beatrice when he should have been gazing -with ardour--or simulated ardour--into the rather lustreless orbs of -Helen. - -To do precisely the thing which he ought not to have done was certainly -a trait which he had inherited from his father. - -But he had not merely looked into the eyes of the one girl when he -should have been looking into those of the other girl, he had spoken -into her ears such words as would, if spoken into the ears of the other -girl, have made her happy. The chances were that the words which he -had spoken would lead to unhappiness. To speak such words had been -his father’s weakness all his life, so that it seemed that Harold had -inherited this weakness also. - -Perhaps for a moment or two, after Edmund Airey had sauntered up, having -got the better of the argument with Mr. Durdan--he flattered -himself that he had invariably got the better of him in the House of -Commons--Harold felt that he was as rebellious against the excellent -counsels of his father as his father had ever been against the excellent -precepts which society has laid down for its own protection. He knew -that the circumstance of his father’s having never accepted the good -advice which had been offered to him as freely as advice, good and bad, -is usually offered to people who are almost certain not to follow it, -did not diminish from the wisdom of the course which his father had -urged upon him to pursue. He had acknowledged to Edmund Airey some days -before, that the substance of the advice was good, and had expressed his -intention of following it--nay, he felt even when he had walked straight -from his father’s side to indulge in that earnest look into the eyes of -Beatrice, that it was almost inevitable that he should take the advice -of his father; for however distasteful it may be, the advice of a father -is sometimes acted on by a son. But still the act of rebellion had been -pleasant to him--as pleasant to him as his father’s acts of the same -character had been to his father. - -And all this time Helen Craven was making her usual elaborate -preparations for finishing her sketch of some local scene, and everyone -knew that she could not seek that scene unless accompanied by someone to -carry her umbrella and stool. - -Lord Fotheringay perceived this in a moment from his seat facing -the south. He saw that Providence was on the side of art, so to -speak--assuming that a water-colour sketch of a natural landscape by an -amateur is art, and assuming that Providence meant simply an opportunity -for his son to ask Miss Craven to marry him. - -Lord Fotheringay saw how Miss Craven lingered with her colour-box in one -hand and her stool in the other. What was she waiting for? He did not -venture to think that she was waiting for Harold to saunter up and take -possession of her apparatus, but he felt certain that if Harold were to -saunter up, Miss Craven’s eyes would brighten--so far as such eyes as -hers could brighten. His teeth met with a snap that threatened the gold -springs when he saw some other man stroll up and express the hope that -Miss Craven would permit him to carry her stool and umbrella, for her -sketching umbrella was brought from the hall by a servant. - -Lord Fotheringay’s indignation against his son was great afterwards. He -made an excellent attempt to express to Edmund Airey what he felt on -the subject of Harold’s conduct, and Edmund shook his head most -sympathetically. - -What was to be done, Lord Fotheringay inquired. What was to be done in -order to make Harold act in accordance with the dictates not merely of -prudence but of necessity as well? - -Mr. Airey could not see that any positive action could be taken in order -to compel Harold to adopt the course which every sensible person would -admit was the right course--in fact the only course open to him under -the circumstances. He added that only two days ago Harold had admitted -that he meant to ask Miss Craven to marry him. - -“Heavens above!” cried Lord Fotheringay. “He never admitted so much to -me. Then what has occurred to change him within a few days?” - -“In such a case as this it is as well not to ask _what_ but _who_,” - remarked Edmund. - -Lord Fotheringay looked at him eagerly. “Who--who--you don’t mean -another girl?” - -“Why should I not mean another girl?” said Edmund. “You may have some -elementary acquaintance with woman, Lord Fotheringay.” - -“I have--yes, elementary,” admitted Lord Fotheringay. - -“Then surely you must have perceived that a man’s attention is turned -away from one woman only by the appearance of another woman,” said -Edmund. - -“You mean that--by heavens, that notion occurred to me the moment that I -saw her. She is a lovely creature, Airey.” - -“‘A gray eye or so!’ said Airey.” - -“A gray eye or so!” cried Lord Fotheringay, who had not given sufficient -attention to the works of Shakespeare to recognize a quotation. “A -gray--Oh, you were always a cold-blooded fellow. Such eyes, Airey, are -so uncommon as--ah, the eyes are not to the point. They only lend colour -to your belief that she is the other girl. Yes, that notion occurred to -me the moment she entered the hall.” - -“I believe that but for her inopportune appearance Harold would now be -engaged to Miss Craven,” said Edmund. - -“There’s not the shadow of a doubt about the matter,” cried Lord -Fotheringay--both men seemed to regard Miss Craven’s acquiescence in -the scheme which they had in their minds, as outside the discussion -altogether. “Now what on earth did Lady Innisfail mean by asking a -girl with such eyes to stay here? A girl with such eyes has no business -appearing among people like us who have to settle our mundane affairs to -the best advantage. Those eyes are a disturbing influence, Airey. They -should never be seen while matters are in an unsettled condition. And -Lady Innisfail professes to be Harold’s friend.” - -“And so she is,” said Edmund. “But the delight that Lady Innisfail -finds in capturing a strange face--especially when that face is -beautiful--overcomes all other considerations with her. That is why, -although anxious--she was anxious yesterday, though that is not saying -she is anxious today--to hear of Harold’s proposing to Miss Craven, yet -she is much more anxious to see the effect produced by the appearance of -Miss Avon among her guests.” - -“And this is a Christian country!” said Lord Fotheringay solemnly, after -a pause of considerable duration. - -“Nominally,” said Mr. Airey, - -“What is society coming to, Airey, when a woman occupying the position -of Lady Innisfail, does not hesitate to throw all considerations of -friendship to the winds solely for the sake of a momentary sensation?” - -Lord Fotheringay was now so solemn that his words and his method of -delivering them suggested the earnestness of an evangelist--zeal is -always expected from an evangelist, though unbecoming in an ordained -clergyman. He held one finger out and raised it and lowered it with the -inflections of his voice with the skill of a professional moralist. - -He had scarcely spoken before Miss Avon, by the side of the judge and -Miss Innisfail, appeared on the terrace. - -The judge--he said he had known her father--was beaming on her. -Professing to know her father he probably considered sufficient -justification for beaming on her. - -Lord Fotheringay and his companion watched the girl in silence until she -and her companions had descended to the path leading to the cliffs. - -“Airey,” said Lord Fotheringay at length. “Airey, that boy of mine must -be prevented from making a fool of himself--he must be prevented from -making a fool of that girl. I would not like to see such a girl as -that--I think you said you noticed her eyes--made a fool of.” - -“It would be very sad,” said Edmund. “But what means do you propose to -adopt to prevent the increase by two of the many fools already in the -world?” - -“I mean to marry the girl myself,” cried Lord Fotheringay, rising to his -feet--not without some little difficulty, for rheumatism had for years -been his greatest enemy. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX.--ON MODERN SOCIETY. - -EDMUND AIREY had the most perfect command of his features under all -circumstances. While the members of the Front Opposition Benches were -endeavouring to sneer him into their lobby, upon the occasion of a -division on some question on which it was rumoured he differed from -the Government, he never moved a muscle. The flaunts and gibes may -have stung him, but he had never yet given an indication of feeling -the sting; so that if Lord Fotheringay looked for any of those twitches -about the corners of Mr. Airey’s mouth, which the sudden announcement -of his determination would possibly have brought around the mouth of -an ordinary man, he must have had little experience of his companion’s -powers. - -But that Lord Fotheringay felt on the whole greatly flattered by the -impassiveness of Edmund Airey’s face after his announcement, Edmund -Airey did not for a moment doubt. When a man of fifty-seven gravely -announces his intention to another man of marrying a girl of, perhaps, -twenty, and with eyes of remarkable lustre, and when the man takes such -an announcement as the merest matter of course, the man who makes it has -some reason for feeling flattered. - -The chances are, however, that he succeeds in proving to his own -satisfaction that he has no reason for feeling flattered; for the man -of fifty-seven who is fool enough to entertain the notion of marrying a -girl of twenty with lustrous eyes, is certainly fool enough to believe -that the announcement of his intention in this respect is in no way out -of the common. - -Thus, when, after a glance concentrated upon the corners of Edmund -Airey’s mouth, Lord Fotheringay resumed his seat and began to give -serious reasons for taking the step that he had declared himself ready -to take--reasons beyond the mere natural desire to prevent Miss Avon -from being made a fool of--he gave no indication of feeling in the least -flattered by the impassiveness of the face of his companion. - -Yes, he explained to Mr. Airey, he had been so badly treated by the -world that he had almost made up his mind to retire from the world--the -exact words in which he expressed that resolution were “to let the world -go to the devil in its own way.” - -Now, as the belief was general that Lord Fotheringay’s presence in the -world had materially accelerated its speed in the direction which he -had indicated, the announcement of his intention to allow it to proceed -without his assistance was not absurd. - -Yes, he had been badly treated by the world, he said. The world was very -wicked. He felt sad when he thought of the vast amount of wickedness -there was in the world, and the small amount of it that he had already -enjoyed. To be sure, it could not be said that he had quite lived the -life of the ideal anchorite: he admitted--and smacked his lips as he did -so--that he had now and again had a good time (Mr. Airey did not assume -that the word “good” was to be accepted in its Sunday-school sense) -but on the whole the result was disappointing. - -“As saith the Preacher,” remarked Mr. Airey, when Lord Fotheringay -paused and shook his head so that another little scrap of caked powder -escaped from the depths of one of the wrinkles of his forehead. - -“The Preacher--what Preacher?” he asked. - -“The Preacher who cried _Vanitas Vanitatum_,” said Edmund. - -“He had gone on a tour with an Italian opera company,” said Lord -Fotheringay, “and he had fallen foul of the basso. Airey, my boy, -whatever you do, steer clear of a prima donna with a high soprano. It -means thousands--thousands, and a precipitate flight at the last. You -needn’t try a gift of paste--the finest productions of the Ormuz -Gem Company--‘a Tiara for Thirty Shillings’--you know their -advertisement--no, I’ve tried that. It was no use. The real thing -she would have--Heavens above! Two thousand pounds for a trinket, and -nothing to show for it, but a smashing of supper plates and a hurried -flight. Ah, Airey, is it any wonder that I should make up my mind -to live a quiet life with--I quite forget who was in my mind when I -commenced this interesting conversation?” - -“It makes no difference,” said Mr. Airey. “The principle is precisely -the same. There is Miss Innisfail looking for someone, I must go to -her.” - -“A desperately proper girl,” said Lord Fotheringay. “As desperately -proper as if she had once been desperately naughty. These proper girls -know a vast deal. She scarcely speaks to me. Yes, she must know a lot.” - -His remarks were lost upon Mr. Airey, for he had politely hurried to -Miss Innisfail and was asking her if he could be of any assistance to -her. But when Miss Innisfail replied that she was merely waiting for -Brian, the boatman, who should have returned long ago from the other -side of the lough, Mr. Airey did not return to Lord Fotheringay. - -He had had enough of Lord Fotheringay for one afternoon, and he hoped -that Lord Fotheringay would understand so much. He had long ago ceased -to be amusing. As an addition to the house-party at the Castle he was -unprofitable. He knew that Lady Innisfail was of this opinion, and he -was well aware also that Lady Innisfail had not given him more than a -general and very vague invitation to the Castle. He had simply come to -the Castle in order to avoid the possibly disagreeable consequences of -buying some thousands of pounds’ worth of diamonds--perhaps it would be -more correct to say, diamonds costing some thousands of pounds, leaving -worth out of the question--for a woman with a husband. - -Airey knew that the philosophy of Lord Fotheringay was the philosophy of -the maker of omelettes. No one has yet solved the problem of how to make -omelettes without breaking eggs. Lord Fotheringay had broken a good many -eggs in his day, and occasionally the result was that his share of the -transaction was not the omelette but the broken shells. Occasionally, -too, Edmund Airey was well aware, Lord Fotheringay had suffered more -inconvenience than was involved in the mere fact of his being deprived -of the comestible. His latest adventure. Airey thought, might be -included among such experiences. He had fled to the brink of the ocean -in order to avoid the vengeance of the Husband. “Here the pursuer can -pursue no more,” was the line that was in Edmund Airey’s mind as he -listened to the fragmentary account of the latest _contretemps_ of the -rheumatic butterfly. - -Yes, he had had quite enough of Lord Fotheringay’s company. The -announcement of his intention to marry Miss Avon had not made him more -interesting in the eyes of Edmund Airey, though it might have done so -in other people’s eyes--for a man who makes himself supremely ridiculous -makes himself supremely interesting as well, in certain circles. - -The announcement made by Lord Fotheringay had caused him to seem -ridiculous, though of course Edmund had made no sign to this effect: -had he made any sign he would not have heard the particulars of Lord -Fotheringay’s latest fiasco, and he was desirous of learning those -particulars. Having become acquainted with them, however, he found that -he had had quite enough of his company. - -But in the course of the afternoon Mr. Airey perceived that, though -in his eyes there was something ridiculous in the notion of Lord -Fotheringay’s expression of a determination to marry Beatrice Avon, the -idea might not seem quite so ridiculous to other people--Miss Avon’s -father, for instance. - -In another moment he had come to the conclusion that the idea might not -seem altogether absurd to Miss Avon herself. - -Young women of twenty--even when they have been endowed by heaven with -lustrous eyes (assuming that the lustre of a young woman’s eyes is -a gift from heaven, and not acquired to work the purposes of a very -different power)--have been known to entertain without repugnance -the idea of marrying impecunious peers of fifty-seven; and upon this -circumstance Edmund pondered. - -Standing on the brink of a cliff at the base of which the great rollers -were crouching like huge white-maned lions, Mr. Airey reflected as he -had never previously done, upon the debased condition of modern society, -in which such incidents are of constant occurrence. But, however -deplorable such incidents are, he knew perfectly well that there never -had existed a society in the world where they had not been quite as -frequent as they are in modern society in England. - -Yes, it was quite as likely as not that Lord Fotheringay would be able -to carry out the intention which he had announced to his confidant of -the moment. - -But when Mr. Airey thought of the lustrous eyes of Beatrice Avon, -recalling the next moment the rheumatic movements of Lord Fotheringay -and the falling of the scrap of caked powder from his forehead, he felt -quixotic enough to be equal to the attempt to prevent the realization of -Lord Fotheringay’s intention. - -It was then that the thought occurred to him--Why should not Harold, who -was clearly ready to fall in love with the liquid eyes of Beatrice Avon, -ask her to marry him instead of his father? - -The result of his consideration of this question was to convince -him that such an occurrence as it suggested should be averted at all -hazards. - -Only the worst enemy that Harold Wynne could have--the worst enemy that -the girl could have--would like to see them married. - -It would be different if the hot-blooded Italian husband were to pursue -the enemy of his household to the brink of the Atlantic cliffs and then -push him over the cliffs into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. But the -hot-blooded Italian was not yet in sight, and Edmund knew very well that -so long as Lord Fotheringay lived, Harold was dependent on him for his -daily bread. - -If Harold were to marry Miss Avon, it would lie in his father’s power -to make him a pauper, or, worse, the professional director with the -honorary prefix of “Honourable” to his name, dear to the company -promoter. - -On the death of Lord Fotheringay Harold would inherit whatever property -still remained out of the hands of the mortgagees; but Edmund was well -aware of the longevity of that species of butterfly which is susceptible -of rheumatic attacks; so that for, perhaps, fifteen years Harold might -remain dependent upon the good-will of his father for his daily bread. - -It thus appeared to Mr. Airey that the problem of how to frustrate the -intentions of Lord Fotheringay, was not an easy one to solve. - -He knew the world too well to entertain for a moment the possibility of -defeating Lord Fotheringay’s avowed purpose by informing either the girl -or her father of the evil reputation of Lord Fotheringay. The evil deeds -of a duke have occasionally permitted his wife to obtain a divorce; but -they have never prevented him from obtaining another wife. - -All this Mr. Edmund Airey knew, having lived in the world and observed -the ways of its inhabitants for several years. - - -END OF VOLUME I. - - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s A Gray Eye or So, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - -***** This file should be named 51944-0.txt or 51944-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/4/51944/ - -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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