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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en commenpant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole —^' signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN ". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour 6tre reproduit en un seul clichd, 11 est filmd d partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la methode. 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 A SON OF ERIN ^ otiha^m^ no,.,.ZT ''"■ '"'"■' "^ "'^^'^'^^■' ^— - - o,.Asc;ow." [Page IT -^. \\ KIOO:^ iM . i A SON OF ERIN BY ANNIE S. SWAN (Mr«. Burnttt-Smlth) AUTHOR or "A BITTER DEBT," "A STORMY VOYAGER," "WYNDHAM'S DAUGHTER," "A VICTORY WON," " NK'ER-DO-WBEL," KTC. !9SiWA!t* I ' fVITH ILLUSTRATIONS TORONTO: WILLIAM BRIQGS 1899. TKt()37 M3I3 S4 ""^t T~!Sf *° :^"',°' "*• P"""""'"* o' C.n«l.. In the y«, on. thou«md / 'm^'.,.-y CONTENTS CItAF. I. "a blast o' januar' win' II. ROBERT BURNS FLETCHER III. A GENTLE HEART. IV. IN SUDDEN PERIL V. AN INTERESTING INTERVIEW VL A MIND OF HIS OWN . VII. THE BEGINNING . VIII. A NEW FRIEND . , IX. GOOD-BYE X. NEW SURROUNDINGS . XL SETTLING DOWN . , XII. A NOTE OF DISCORD XIIL THEIR HERO XIV. THE HEART OF THINGS XV. LADY LYNDON XVI. TERRY'S OPINION . 5 rAcc 7 '5 22 31 39 47 55 63 69 77 84 93 lOI 110 118 126 Contents ■I our. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLIi. TEMPTED . FROM OUT THE PAST WITHOUT HOPE IN COUNCIL . SMOULDERING FIRES TRAITOR AT HEART A JEALOUS HEART . A GREAT UPLIFTING W sheep's CLOTHING THE MYSTERY DEEPENS A WOMAN OF THE WORLD THE BLOW FALLS DIRE SUSPICIONS MORE LIGHT . A STRANGE STORY IN THE RANKS AT BAY STRANGE CURRENTS THE TRUE LYNDON NEMESIS . THE HARVEST OF SIN HUSBAND AND WIFE AT HIS WITS' END THE LOST LAMB THE BITTER END . BRIAN LYNDON OF BALLYMORE FAOS . 152 . 167 . 176 . 184 • 192 • 200 . 208 . 215 . 224 . 231 239 248 262 269 277 283 289 897 304 313 322 331 iCE i3 )2 7 6 4 2 D J I I A SON OF ERTN CHAPTER I "A BLAST O* JANUAR' WIN ' n |hROUGHOUT the length and breadth of Scotland, and in many a remote town and village far across the sea, wherever, indeed, Scotchmen were to be found with hearts beating warm and true to the land that bore them, the birthday of Robert Burns was being com- memorated with song and story, and all the traditions which have helped to make it the great national festival of the year. In Edinburgh a great gathering was being held, marked by the usual enthusiasm and hilarity. It was a typical gathering, representing all that was best and most patriotic in the Scottish nature. Among the many delegates and secretaries of Burns' Societies from different parts of Scotland, there was none more welcome or more in accord with the spirit of the occasion than John Fletcher of Spitalhaugh, a 8 H Son or Brin man of humble birth and position, being only a foreman in one of the great woollen mills, but a man of fine mmd, and possessing poetical gifts of no mean order ; and, moreover, a gentle, almost a Christlike soul' beloved by all who came within touch of his benign mfluence. For many fitting reasons he had been chosen above those of high birth and standing to propose « The Immortal Memory of Burns." He had done so in words which would be long remembered by those privileged to hear them. It seemed to the most discriminating among those present that never had so just and accurate an estimate of the poet's character been given, or one more humanly sympathetic. The errors and faults of his life, so largely a matter of temperament, were not glossed over, but weighed and judged by a delicate perception, an exquisite clearness, and rugged tenderness which made a powerful impres- sion on all present. They felt inclined to make much of him, and to pour unstinted praise on his achieve- ment ; but honest John Fletcher was a modest man possessing in a very high degree the reticence of his nationality, and when his task was done he slipped away before the proceedings were half over, anxious to hear the verdict which was of more account to him than the praise of lords and judges and others in high places of the earth. The little woman who had seen him rise, and acceptmg the signal, had herself slipped out to meet him at the door, clasped her two hands proudly on his arm, and looked up with adoring eyes into his face. "Hoo did I dae, Mary.?" he asked with a furtive touch of anxiety. « I was terrible nervous : the words were like to choke me." " Oh, my man, it was grand ! I was like to greet. **U Blast 0' Sanmf mw** g I did greet. An' to see you standin' up there amon^ a the gentry, an' them hingin' on your very words i I couldna believe my ain e'en. Will ye be pleased wi' me yet. John, an' the quiet life at Spitalhaugh ; for, oh, 1 think ye are a Burns yoursel' .?" He drew the hand she had slipped through his arm closer to his side, and, as they turned along the street, looked down into the sweet face with a very real tenderness. Moments of emotion were rare between that undemonstrative pair, but they understood each other, and were happy as few are in this weary world. For they were content with such things as they had and were untroubled by any soaring ambition or vague unrest. They had within their own hearts and minds perpetual wells of refreshment, and the God of their fathers was their guide and comforter by day and night It is such souls that have made Scotland honoured and ^^ru^^^' ^""^ ^^^"^ ^^' ^^' P^^^^ a"^o"g the nations. When that type of God-fearing, hard-working, self- respecting men and women shall be no more repro- duced within her borders, then she may write Ichabod upon her gates, for her glory will indeed have departed for evermore. As they turned away from the pillared doorway oi the Music Hall a great gust of icy wind blown up from the storm-tossed Forth caught them, and almost swept them off their feet. The snow lay thick on the ground, and stray flakes ot what country-folk call " a feeding storm " were driving in the wind. "Bless me. Mary, that's awfu'," said John, as he pressed his wife's slight figure closer to his side. " But Its fit, very fit It was just sic " ' A blast o* Januar' win* Blew han'sel in on Robin.'* 10 ^ Son of Erin "ley came to the unore enff-^ ^ 'P*^'' """^h "ntil *° fPend the night X MWs t^h """^ "-=^ -- had reared ten .ons and daupL ."■• * ""■''°«' "-ho Fletcher, dreamilJ; fo';", °"^'"^' Mary,- said John -"'»ofthepas,^"„d°Ltrrofr "■'" *^ ^'■-" and fast on him. « it ZsZ^' "°"'''^'^ **"■* wad row Pet Marjorie iHi "1m " ."'^ "^ *'"^ ^-e h>s study. Eh, wumman i^I ' ? "" *'' ^er to burgh streets y^, thev w JV ^^ °"'^ """^'d Edin- g°W for some oV- ^ '' ''" ^^^-^ "'■■ better thin F'etct ye^t": r saVZtr ^^^ *"*' ^"-^ Mn certain archness which gave 5 u" Tu-^'' ^"^^ -^"h a round, fresh face. ^ ^ bewitching look to her deepened ,„ her face '"""^ °'^Pride only " What I'm thinkin' i, i,^„ . "orn, John," she said present" ,'° ^"^ ''»"'« the practical side of things by a blt;t"?"'=' '° '"" ""^"^ seventy. .. What if we hae ll°, "^°'' "'*" "^"al some days ? " *** '° bide in the toon for " Oh 'f'll f etche;, ' hopeful?;. '°«^e1l "h ""''' '^"■" -'^ Mn t^enty-seven. Buf what^thlv"' "' ""' """'ber %bt f thlXXreX""^ "T ^-^-^ ••- run ■n a plaid of shepherd's ter an "^m'"'" '"'"'"^ '°"ed OS tartan. Mary pressed forward, Jgfgled 1 until ' were who V left 'ming iving fohn rreat hick 5 he r to din- han )hn 1 a ier sir le 'e il •r ] COIJ HK GUIIJ lu US, JOHN, it's A LITII.I.: HAIRN ! ' ' [Paue II. "a JSIast 0* 5ammr' min'" n and as her husband gently lifted the bundle she gave a low cry. ® ''God be guid to us, John, it's a little bairn ! " "Ay, is it?" said John, and putting back the shawl from Its head peered into its face, Mary raising herself on tiptoe so that she also might see. " A bonnie wee I bairn ; an wha wi' a mither's heart in her could leave ic oot on sic a nicht .? " His voice took a sterner tone, and he glanced sharply round as if expecting to see the woman, to whom he would not have been slow to administer a stern rebuke " D'ye see a policeman, Mary ? They're never here when they're wantit. Tak' you the bairn or I tak' a step east and west to see if I can get a gliff o' its hizzy o' a mother." ^ Mary stretched out her arms and clasped the sleep- ing infant to her breast. As she did so her husband was struck with the expression of her face, and his own heart was somewhat sore as he turned away, for he knew now, though she had never spoken it, that it was a heart-sorrow to Mary that she had no child Hearing them at the door, Jean Middlemas. who had not expected them home so early, came out to meet them. " Look here, mother," said Mary, excitedly. « Look what we have found on the step ! John has just gane up the street to look for a polj «ian." "What is't .? " asked Mrs. Middlem is, holding the candle high in her hand as Mary stepped briskly across the threshold. " It's a bairn," said Mary, with a little tender note in her voice. "A bonnie wee lamb that some hard- hearted wretch has left on your doorstep." " A bairn I " repeated Mrs. Middlemas, sharply. " I 19 a Son of jErfn dinna think you should hae brocht it in, Mary lass • maybe you'll find yourself saddled wi' it aUegitL." ' fh,-« r ' u"" t^^'f ^'"^ "° ^^""''" '^'^ Mary. And by this time she had entered the cosy little kitchen, and the shawl from the child. Mrs. Middlemas standing curiously by, regarding her with a mixture of surprise and disapproval. =>urpri!.e shJ'hlH I ^"\^,^''"'" ^^V^'d' "''"cally, feeling because she had brought up ten that she was competent to give a conclusive opinion. « A laddie, nearly twa year auld is the^^ '"''■ ?"lT!f^ ^'''''^- ^°°' ^ ^°"d«r what is the meanin o t ? At that moment th6 child opened his eyes, and seeing the bright light, and perhaps the kind, tender face bent above him, smiled, and uttered one of those mystenous sounds which were his only way of express- mg his satisfaction. "Bless him!" said Mary Fletcher, tenderly. "I dinna ken how any woman, mother to sic a bairn could leave him as she has done." "It takes a' sorts to make a world, my Woman" observed Mrs. Middlemas, wisely. "Suppose we try find the police, or get any clue to the woman that left At that moment they heard the outer door open and his feet on the little passage, where he paused to knock the snow from his boots and remove his wet overcoat Mrs. Middlemas threw open the kitchen door so that the light fell across the passage ea eri '"^^°'^ ^^ '^''^"^ '^^ anybody ? " she asked, " Not a livin' soul, mother," answered John Fletcher. **n JSIast 0* 5anuar' min'" 13 "There's nothing we can do but keep the bairn here til the morn. I daresay Mary and you between you will be able to take care o* it." "She's makin' no a bad set at it," said Mrs. Middlemas with a humorous smile, as she pointed to Mary sitting close to the cheerful fire holding the baby on her lap as if to the manner born. His gaze was very tender as it fell on the picture, and presently she looked up with a smile. ♦' Come and see the bairn, John. Isn't he a beauty ? Hes nae common bairn either; look at his claes mother ; they are the finest money can buy." " I canna understand for the life of me why it should have been left at my door," said Mrs. Middle- mas « I'm sure I've had my share o' them in my time." Its my belief she just saw John and me comin' alang, and thought that we m'ght notice the bairn and pick him up," said Mary. « We'll hae to keep him anyway until the morn. Maybe we'll hear something aboot her then." A severe cold had prevented Mrs. Middlemas from going to the Music Hall to hear her somewhat dis- tinguished son-in-law make his speech, but she was none the less proud of him, and eager to know how he had acquitted himself. "Come now," she said, "the bairn's a'richt : how did you get on, John > I've been little use all this nicht except to sit and think aboot you. Did ve make a good speech .? " "Oh, mother, if you had only heard him!" cried Mary, looking up with adoring pride into her husband's tace. I couldna believe it was our Jnhfy He held them a' that quiet ye could hae heard a pin drop when he was talking." ^ ^ '* H Son of Brtit " Wheesht, wheesht, lassie," said John « T «««i, but the truth, mother, according to Jy iLt • I ttt that whiles there is too much said in prat o'^u and sometimes too much o' blame TreLh^ ^v"'' IS to strike the middle course" ^ ' *^'"^ Mrs M^^dTel^^^^ 1' '' ^^'^ ^^^^^^ *^^ --n," said Mrs. Middlemas m tones of lively satisfaction «' TKof consoled me for no beine able to ctf t?. ^' Midd° ;as "tor f m"' *,' ■"°™'"^'" »■■" Mr. keep Mavbe th^ T ^ ."^' J"""" = =''* "'""'' '"'"" take care o^""^ ^"^ ''^ ^^"' '"' "^i™ '° ^o- to w.fes s,de, and looked down into the child's smiling " It|s a bonnie bairn," he repeated. ■■ We mieht dn waur than keep it— eh Marv > a^j . ■ . T^ °° it is, we might «• him'R^obWe Bu™'" "" "*** "'"" CHAPTER II ROBERT BURNS FLETCHER EXT morning the storm had somewhat I abated. There was no need for the Jbletchers to go home until the afternoon ^ so immediately after breakfast, John, after having carefully read the report of his ^wn speech in the mornmg paper, went forth to make some in- st"rlntl'°""'"'"^ *!:' ^'"'^ ^°""^^'"^ ^h° had so s angely come mto their keeping. He had slept well a 1 mght m the comfortable bed near the warm kitclen fire, and awakened as bright as a bee. still more to entwme himself about Mary's heart huib?nd T^/-'" '^' 'f' "' '^^- ^"*^^^^ h^^ stalwart husband striding up the street, "it may be wran^ keen th°^K J^^"'" hear naething, and that^e'll let me keep the bairn. Do you think he will >" fl, J' I -^""l??. '^°"'^^'' ^^'''^- J°hn would gie ye wellfiTf If .T'^u :^"* y' ^^^ better think ve hL u ^' '^^ '^^ ^''^" ^^""^ t° Spitalhaugh, ye hae a heavy responsibility, and, mind y yer am bairn, and ye dinna ken what kind you, its no o' a fire- ( i XS i6 U Son of £rin brand he mt^U torn oot to be. Beside* ye might hae some o' yer ain yet " "That would make no difference," said Mary, as she glanced across to the bed where the child was taking his peaceful morning sleep. " I'll certainly keep him if John will let me. Oh, mother, if you had but heard him last night. He spoke better than any o' them, and there was a something — I canna tell what, but other folks felt it, too — something just gaed to your heart. I am sometimes feared when I think how clever he is, and how little I ken." "Dinna bother your heid aboot that, lassie," said Mr= Middlemas, cheerily. " John is your ain man, ano he thinks there never was a wife like you. You ta' ' my advice — dinna set him up on a pedestal and worship him. You ken wha has said — 'Thou shalt have none other gods but Me.' " Thus reu.iked Mary held her peace, and they waited with some considerable impatience until John should return from making his inquiries at the police station. As was to be expected, he had learned nothing that could give the slightest clue; the woman who had deserted her cnild with such apparent heartlessness had disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed her, and, unless the kind people who hid found the child were willing to keep it, there was no refuge open to him except the poorhouse. "And I never will let him go there, John," said Mary, as she sto- i by the bed with her hand clasping the tender rose-leci. f ^' -ors lying outside the coverlet. " I'm sure that God , s sf^'ii; the bairn to us. Dinna say you won't let mt ! ^ep him 1 " " Oh, I won't say that," said John, good-naturedly. " I have been thinking myself that I would like to Kobert Sums fietcbec ,, keep him ; maybe he'll be a second Burns, and, any- way, we'll never miss his bite and sup. If ye like to take the bother o' him, ye can." ^ ,nH °J*' T'" *" •''■"'"'■ ""'I ">»' afternoon John and Mary Fwch=r returned to their home on Spital Water a gooj d< ,1 richer than when they had left It not forty-, ight hours before. John I'letcher was quito a person of note In the little Border town where his family had lived for many ITlt u 7*;"^ ^^°"^'^ °"Si"alIy to Haddington^ ^1. f^K « '''*''^' *^'" ^^"''^"^ '» *e employ: ment of the Bremners of Halllwell Mills, and It is not too much to say that the interests of Halliwell had Beers'"" "^ "'" '° '"' ^'^''''- - ^ '"<= h,^'"V.f'"'T'"^ "'"' ""sinte^ested persons who had read the collected poems of John Fletcher, and the bentTt'° f =, *°T!!""^ incongruous between thLt? » • ' •"""'' *i"* "'' °«"Pation. had busied themselves m t^-mg to find him some more congenial work , but John, while thanking them kindly had dec med to leave .he town of his birth, and the'^reity tale rose-eovered cottage on the banks of the Spital TnT'J^T " "^ ^"" ''°™' ""= "ad no fauft to find witn his occupation, indeed, he loved the great mdls and the rush and roar of their machinery nl, » aV *"' ""'- '"'P'""e '°'"' of his finest eves' at H»n T^ T^^ "^ "^"""^ "S^t In his own absltlwf T^'k".^"""' '° highly respected and absolutely t usted by his employers that they did not t^eat him altogether like a servant. It was a trus Z^, "!! h"'"" ^""""^ • ^°' ">°"g'' John Fletcher K.-cV-r"..' . "* ^^"'-^-man iirst. and never neglected his daily duties to follow the vagaries of his mind. 2 i8 a Son of Erfn u'"'\."'T''"^ **■'" '■'' '«'"™ from Edinburgh when Mr Bremner came down from Halliwell Hote Mr W^.' ' « ''"' "" J""" '° S" '° "is private room Mr Walter Bremner was a fine-looking man in his how^^T'' \r" °' "° ""=^" S'^'^- -d -ho knew how to turn them to the best possible advantaj frlT /.I "''' '""^"'^^ "^ ^nsiderable fortufe from his father, and a thoroughly established T^ at the mill ,!;• "' "^^u ,"""*•" '"" ""^ »«endance cem L? ' ^7";^ "^''">' "'»' * flourishing con- cern cannot alTord altogether to dispense with its head H.S relaxation was politics, and he had half promised that one day he might be induced to represenTws own burghs in Parliament. He was married ,o charming wife, and had some little Z^ZZt mad he sunshme of the fine old house standing high on the wooded slope above the town. Altogether fol^! seemed to have bestowed her highest favo^url:;' wilt"' wtorrad^''rL':ia;?rm''r '""" - ^^ happier man. "'°'^ prosperous or John Fletcher entered his master's room nothine ,„d; > r"" *"" *"" "'^'^d the most perto unde standmg, a feeling of good-fellowship and com mumty of mterest which was almost brotherly To that there was nothing incongruous in Mr Brem„« 'XZt ''-' -' '''''"' '^^ employ;erm"ly iau'n^'"h/°''u^'''™J°" «°' ''** <■"■" your great eye "and H ""'« '.'""'''^ '" ^'" P'^a^ant grey eye , and do you find it quite easy to steo from your pedestal down to the level of rLl , things?" commonplace I: . Robert Xntm jrietcbec 19 so,_but'„aroftene'/^ ""' °"=^ ■'" " "f^'™- or "Why, man, you acquitted yourself irrn^^i » -, said we co:"d"r pos rb"; iTe:r jr- -<» ^-^ HalliVell after it." '^ ° ''^^P V™ at everybody in 5^^^.^°^ tl^^f f^"'"S' and speak about nothing yefterdav bnT "'' '="'"'* an. sure Mrs. Fletcher ^ust t """" ''""'^- ' you." ' °e very proud of ^^ A somewhat comical look crossed John Fletcher's a bairn U wUh l^lZ El^^r ' " ''' "^'^ hoi^^^trred Tohf '^°rr r "^.r-'""'-'^ bonniest wee chap you ever saw." ""'"'"^- ^"' ^"^ And are you going to keep it'" askerf th- 1, owner, much interested " ""* """■ ■'Mary says so," answered John. Brem„:r ■ ' Mt'haT ^LZ^'TT ■*"'^'" -'■" "r. .,, . ^^ "^^ laiien on its fp«=>t Mr- p «"» be greatly interested to hear this l\hu"1'' wonder if she came down at once to ^ it" "'"" ' ao a Son of iBvin i I- ,h=.? u°^ '^ ""'•" '*''' J^"*"- "Can I tell Mary that she may expect her?" '^ "Well I think you may. You know how fond ZnT: " -1. ""'" '''"•"^' '""' °f """^ '"ere's some thing specially interesting about this one" f. "au- *"* 5' '^""'^^^ J°''"' ' and the way we Burns." °" "''' "'"*'• ^"'"^ "''' l"" Rob"' "Have you ? " asked Mr. Bremner. « That was a good Idea. Well, John. I hope that he'll grow up to be a comfort to you, and that he will exhibit all the poet s virtues and none of his faults " Inh7.''!llr'''1n'* ^^'P^'ing o^re much, sir," said John ; " but we'll see." hnr.*"" f ^^}r^ °"' **' ""^ J''="="'"» had brought SrV ri"'"^ "'"* '^*"' f""" Edinburgh, and that they had given it such an interesting name U made a great talk in the place, and durin| the n^ we^k or two Mary received more visitors if herqufe tie home than in the whole course of her married life. Everybody wanted to see the bairn, and very proud she was to show him. I don't believe she couW have taken more interest in him had he been her verv own ; he seemed to nestle into her heart, and to fiU up the only blank there which she had ever felt during Retcher. '"''^ """'' °' ''" ""'°" ^'"^ ^°"''' J"^' John was much amused at the whole affair. At first he did not pay much attention to the child, and rather wondered at Mary's passionate adoration for b^Lll f" "".^'^ "'' ""'^ '=""" "-"'i "-'f abou el to th""'""" ^T " "*=" *"" """' tender note even to the songs he wove a« h^ ij-^-n-H - ^u great shuttles moving to and fro in the mill. That IRoftcrt Burns fletcbcr 31 bud and. to unaccustomed ears, discordant din was the mus.c o which John Fletcher attuned his soTg in him many deep-Iymg thoughts concerning the things of this hfe and that which is to come ^ bv hJ*"" "^fl f""*. ""^PPy ''°'»^' '•"•rounded only FfetchJfor"R k"'^ '"fl-"«Mhe child Robert Burns J'ietcher, or Rob, as he was familiarly and tenderlv even in his childhood of a fine manhood graced by g fts above the common. For some time Mary wa^ haunted by the terror lest his mother should oL day tarn up and wrest her treasure from her ; but as the r rrT'to V'" ^«^>-. ^f-"-, became kss haunt „g and real to her. Other anxieties, however took it^ ^ace. While the child had muci that was t,^ble disDosi«i„ u- T'"™?'* '""P='' ^"^ » vindictive concern. They loved him too dearly to smiI him bvTJf"' TV"" '^""'^^"-^ disciplL insS^'™ by John, who had himself learned at the hands of a TZ^^^'IT"" '''*'" ">* P"«'^=' '«»ns of self theTh^idf naZe' " ~"" ''" ^^ >«'« o^ CHAPTER III A GENTLE HEART FAMILY party wa. gathered in ,he d awmg-room of Halliwell House after d.n„er on a lovely evening i„ uly tZ a magnificent^ ptprorhnrand"*'^'; """"^""^ masses of woodlanrf ^i^n, j "' ',^"<^ ^^'e. with rich and living greens of 't *''' """"""'' '""^''' twin Eildonrbelov^d ^^ Sir'w»r' 'T'"'"« '° '"^ themselves i,^ the Toft Li \^ '"■' "'""* ••'^^ '°=t night. It wal Va/m f" ^1""" ,°^»''^ ^^""-'"g treacherous month in"" norlhe^^t.^: " Z'V X at; htdToLn^""'""^' '•" '"« ^-.^- "'e and Mrs Bremner found h? ""'7"™ "'"' ^o^fo^able, She looked Tv! wmdow-seat most desirable two J::Sr: r fhr~s lii'or^r *^ '"°*'' °^ manhood and womanhood r , "S ^PP'^^'hing enjoyed a life of I,r,„,r? ^.""'>' ^'^"'"^' had .he w., put tnem to bed and close the nursery 83 ^ ■i H Gentle ibeatt ,3 door on them, knowing them to be safe till morning Of late much anxiety had been hers on account of her eldest son, who ought to have been his father's right hand and comfort now that he was weighed down by heavy Parliamentary duties which were a drain on all his energies as well as his means. Walter Bremner had lived to see all his political ambitions fulfilled, and, while he took the keen joy of a born politician and a good fighter in his Parliamentary life there were times when he doubted whether it was' after all, worth the many sacrifices it entailed. His wifes health had not of late permitted her to stand the strain of London life, and he had been for three months alone in a London Club— which to a home- loving man is a sacrifice of no mean kind. He was at home now for Easter, but was dining at the house of a neighbouring magnate; the young men of the house were in the billiard-room, and Mrs Bremner was with her daughters, Adair and Jessie. The elder had been baptised Florence Adair, but had never been called anything but Adair, sometimes Addie. The former name suited her well. She was tall and stately, with a certain reserve of manner and suggestion of hidden power which made her interesting to those skilled in the reading of character. Of all his children she was the most interesting, perhaps the dearest, in her father's eyes. The love between them was a wonderful thing, of a depth and intensity which they hardly realised. His son Laurence, upon whom he had built his ear y hopes, had bitterly disappointed him. His abilities were mediocre, and he had a lazv. sometime" his father feared a vicious, strain in him. He was a cad at heart. In his case public school training «4 B Son of jsrln which had provid^ the whe'Sf ' "" .*^ "'" gentleman. wnerewithal to make him a -ol^f i^r"i:r'tr "' ""^■■"^ "^ ™-- no his son than he set hLstlH """•'''"^^''le signs in to destroy, them He h,H ? ""'''' ""^ ''^ P°^^'We the business; to this end ht n"^^' ''"""«' •"■■» fo' ■t upon the West L. He tr.dT^'i''" '" ™*" learn it i„ all its nrac«r,l1, . ° " *** •>« ""t decision there col'i:i':lp:f\""'' '"at from his sulkiness, but obeved ^^^^}- Laurence exhibited knew. Perhaos it w»; °"',''^ '°"*''='' '* "o one did it for Z Vest ?,"'=""'%''« Walter Bremner despicable form of oridl^h" "'^',/*''°"' °^ *« most Of it in his bo;g:[,rhtteSesX%tdt^ his hope that Uurence would gCuD t„ h "f" to him, to take the respon,iE "V k^* ^""'f"' so that one day he would t!^v.?^ *"' ^''ouldere, to a little Mayfefr houJe i^ tkl" '° '^'■"' ^^''^P'' yet-to-be discovered retreat 7„ *f /"»'°"- »"d some these hopes had been d Lied to 1' '"' "'*" *" seemed to him that frL T t ** ground. It HalhVell MilS ttub!^°:^;i'„^ "' '^'"^'"'' *"'«'«> -id^^t rsorcc^tj^rm^t^ ^r"'« «— -nen as his father hTbeen Het^r^ T* '"' open, frank manner which won their confid " ""'' liking, as well as that in,i,.. -11, '=°"''dence and commanded their respect f' ^'^"''^ ^^ich bread by the -we-? ' I'- ^ "*" "'''° ««™«d his y ^y.cat o, his brow was in the eyes of a eentle tjcart 95 Laurence only a necessary part of the complex niachinery required to carry on a large organisation ; the idea that he could have any individual rights or refinement of nature he scouted when it occurred to him at all. These views, common to smaller minds before they have been wholesomely cleansed by the fire of experience, tinged his manner with a certain superciliousness which was at once felt and resented. The nineteenth-century workman resents nothing more keenly than supercilious patronage; he knows his own power and place, and requires that others shall know it too. The only thing Walter Bremner could do was to keep his son in a subordinate position as long as possible, until, indeed, the sense of years should come to him; to give him power prematurely he foresaw would only make trouble for himself and all concerned. But the time came when it was necessary that he should raise him to some more responsible position and the prospect was full of anxiety for Bremner' and added not inconsiderably to his worry and cares' He was discussing that very point with the neighbour at whose table he was dining, a man who had reared a large family, and had his full share of trouble and anxiety with them. Laurence, however, all unconscious of the care he was to his rather, played his game of billiards with his customary skill, taking great pleasure in beating his younger brother, who was too fond of his books ever to give the necessary practice to the game. " Mother." said Adair, suddenly, after she had played some pieces of music with a quiet and artistic touch which her mother greatly enjoyed, " I forgot to tell you that I heard to-day that poor Mrs. Fletcher is very i r 26 m S Son of jErfn '■" down at Rose Cottage -». v evening fs so fine, I n^ght taJi. T '^'"'^' ^^ *^« for her?" "^"^^ ^^Jk down and inquire " ^V. yes. if you like dp;,r " . readily. " I am very s;r;v '"''''''' ^^^- ^^^'""er. -nJy noticing in church l^t Sund" '""u' ' '"^ ^ ^^^ rather frail. Corrie wiJI be H r f ^ '^'' ^^^^ ^^^^ed with you." ""'^^ ^^ delighted to walk down "Oh, I don't wanf r«^ • enjoying his gam^w ,h^°LTu;e„r""''r^" ''"'■<'-' l'^'' «"="••' I sf,ali not be gone 2 - ' ''°'' '''" °' 'O. I can just put a W° IT™ **" ""^'f «« ''our She wore a gown J . *'' ""^^ "y dress." ^hort sleeves, and sufficLX'ln °'''/*';:'^ '"''"''' "'•* the full contour of W stafelv V *' "^^'^ '° 'h"- dressed well and becomlnJ. ^T' ^^""^ ^''"V bestow a great deal ofThotht T^r'"" '"" ■"'' "°' had the artistic eye and ,t '""' "P"" "• She which are essential to the well H~"'/'"'' °^ "'"ess "I don't suppose vo! ?• . '^^ """"^"' -••d Mrs. Bre™^"..^:S a^ l""" ,''"^'"''^' <"'"'" 'here are only a f;w yards of T" 'T" °" "»°d» ""t put on some thick sho« ,• ^ "'* ''>' ">« "Ver ; *'Oh yes, I shal do tw "m'' r" "'^^ ^'d-" wh.;.. we,e left on t'h V^deboa"d^ »' ''''^ '"' ^"P- „,Jerta.„ly. dear; and anything else you would evening dress, and with a sLn't^r "^"""^ her »he took her way across the n \ '"''' °" *«' ^™ the gathering shadows o;th,;^"^'/".d P'-ged into very steeply to the ed^e of T *'" "''"'^h sloped thinking chiefly of he.^LhL"'' T"' ^<''"> ^-^ ather as sl,e walked. She a Oentle ftcart 27 knew that he was very much worried about Laurence and her young heart was filled with indignation against its cause. If only she had been the eldest son there would have been no trouble in Halliwell Mills, nor any anxiety in her father's heart. There were several small houses standing near to each other on the banks of the little stream which watered the base of the hills, but among them Rose Cottage seemed to stand out in beauty, well-deserving of Its name. The garden, which had ever been one of John Fletche-^'s hobbies, was still a blaze of late spring flowers, and the roses to which it owed its name gave promise of an abundant harvest. Adair was somewhat relieved to see John himsdf standing at the door enjoying an evening pipe in a leisurely fashion which did not suggest much anxiety of mind. When he saw her at the side gate he came quickly to meet her, lifting his cap with the fine courtesy never lacking. ' « Good evening, Miss Adair," he said. " It is not often we have a visit from you so late." " Well, I heard from Mrs. Anderson this afternoon that dear Mrs. Fletcher was not well, and I thought I'd better come and see," she said, in the most pleasant tones of a singularly sweet and pleasant voice ; « but as I don't see any terrible anxiety in your face, John 1 hope that the report was exaggerated." ' "She's no very well, Miss Adair," said John, and his face shadowed slightly. "She doesna ken what it IS. but there is something. Mrs. Anderson was for her going to Edinburgh to see one of the big doctors. I doubt it will have to come to that." " «h, well, I hope that it is nothing very serious, his a lovely evening .? It is Just a joy to be alive." Isn 28 B Son or Ertn he Indeed ,t .s. M.ss Adair," answered John, i 1 fted his face to the exquisite sky, where the blena.ng of colour was such as no painter need essay to reproduce. " It's a bonnie world. Do ye ke„ whit ^I^was thinking at the door just afore I Lye come and1nh'n''R,'?':-^°^"'''"'^^^"'''' »'"t^restedly. She and John Fletcher were very close friends, and had titm both ' '°^''^"' °" '"^J"'"' ^^''^ ^"'^^^^*^d .nnT'"^ ^ T r^ *^*"'''"^ ^^^* I daresay many another has thocht before me-that everything the Creator has made, and everything He touches, is good • sTn of thl' I" °"'^ r''''' ^^ ^'^ ^^'«^^"^^« -"^ the sin of the human beings that have wandered so far from the way m which He set them." T J ' f.r^'^ P'^'P^*"' P^^^'^"' ^"d °"^y '"an is vile/ eh John?" quoted Adair, with a slight smile. « t is' in the world that human beings could avert if thev would only try." ^ •'If there were mair like you, Miss Adair, it would be a bonnier and a happier world." said John. « But now will you come in ? Mary will not thank me for haudin ye speaking oot here. She's not in her bed ft be tW T. ' ""u"'^'' '^' '^^"^^"^ ^«- Whatever It be that ails her. she's no the woman she was." He held open the cottage door for her. and she stepped into the wide, pleasant, low-ceiled kitchen Fletchersaw her she rose quickly from the -epths of the big grandfather chair where she found rest oassinJ^ sweet aft'T the lono- hn f -' a ."""/^•^'^ passing wa«« nnf .; ' u,^ '"^ ^^^y' ^'^' ^**°se toil she was not now able. iinrm iM r i ii i ii i iiniiMini ii a 6entle ibeact 29 " Eh, Miss Adair, I was just thinkin' o' ye a minit syne. How kind of you to come doon. Tak' off your cloak. My, what a braw gown ! Look, John, do ye ken what she minds me of ? " Adair laughed, and, only faintly embarrassed by their adoring and admiring glances, threw aside her cloak and hat, and, taking Mary by the arms, pushed her back into her chair. " Sit you down now, Mary, and don't talk any more nonsense. What is this Mrs. Anderson has been telling me about you } You can't be ill. We won't allow you to be ill, you are too necessary to every- body. Just think what would become of John and Robin if you were laid up." "Oh, I'll liot be laid up if I can help it, Miss Adair," said Mary. " I'm tellin' John there's not much the matter wi' me, but I'm just tired, aye tired. I suppose it must be that I'm gettin' auld." " Nonsense, Mary, you are not fifty yet. By-and- by you will get quite strong again. Mother is some- thing like you just now ; she's always complaining of being tired. I tell you what you must do ; you must get a big strong girl to do the hard work for you in the morning. Do you hear, John } " •* Ay, I hear, my dear," said John, as he sat down on the little table which stood between the two windows white as the driven snow. "I have been telling her that ; but what do you think she says } — that if I want to pit her in her grave without delay I can just get her a servant lass." Mary laughed softly, but did not demur. " I am no needin' a servant lass, Miss Adair ; I have two grown servants here in my man and Robin. When I came ben this morning at the back o' six 30 H Sou of £rtn Robin had the whole kitchen cleaned like a new pin and my breakfast on the table ! Could I get a servant lass to do b'.tter than that ? I wonder to hear ye ! " Adair opened her basket, and. taking out the bunch of luscious grapes, fed her old friend with them as if she had been a baby, kneeling on her knees by the homely hearth, careless of her dainty frock, perhaps knowmg that there was nothing to hurt it on that spotless floor. n^nZT r/ n' '^"''*' ^^'^- ^'' ^^^^cher and mother and I will go into council on your account, and al we will ask you to do will be to obey. Now. John tell nie how you thought father was looking when you' saw him to-day ? " ^ CHAPTER IV IN SUDDEN PERIL S she asked this sudden question she rose to her feet again. " Well, to tell you the truth, Miss Adair," said John, " I dinna think him looking so very weel. But there, what can you expect from anybody that has to live in London ? It's too much for him. Miss Adair. There's no man can carry on twa things almost at the very ends of the earth, as it were. I made bold to tell him that this morning." '•I quite agree with you, John. I wish that he could give up the mill ; he has been long enough at it. Now tell me honestly, do you think that my brother will ever be able to take his place .? " A curious look crossed John Fletcher's honest face. " If I was to say he would, I would be tellin' a lee, Miss Adair," he answered. " What I do think is that he will get sense by-and-by, and that maybe he will be able to acquit himself like a man yet." " But you don't see any sign of it, is that what you would say, John ? " asked Adair, quick as a needle. "Maybe my thocht was something like it. Miss Adair ; but I have seen it before — the arrogance and 31 32 a Son of Ertit With hfm several tim« if^^^^t htse'^'HTh^" always struck her, however as te,W f ''*'' ve^ strong character, and o^e v^i,^ wh^^ri""*" f perhaps be somewhat difficult t™ get '„ 17"" thing she had always admired in if- u- °"* devotion to the wom'ln wh^td Tto "» teiirS nature which displ y^ Xe two finT.""*' '" *' there could not be m^Th fmil ' characteristics "There's something in the iad. Miss Adair rt,* t canna fathom,- he said, thoughtfully • "a L^^/ determination. What he has in hVc •' ^ '"* ken. but we can partly guess and f. ^^ "'"'"' I am sitting here now thit h^-n "u*! "."*'" *' Halliwell." ^' ''*" "° ""de long in " You think he has great gifts, then > » a«w.^ a j • more and more interested %•'"'" -/^^ed Adair, 3n Su^&en peril 33 Adair. It's natures like his that either make or mar themselves. There will be no middling course for Robin — either he'll come to something great and be a world's wonder, or he'll sink lower than the low." " He must not be allowed to sink, then, John," said Adair, quickly. "What you tell me interests me inexpressibly. Tell me one thing — do you think he feels that he has not had sufficient education ? " John smiled a slow smile. "It depends upon what you mean by education. Miss Adair. Of book lare he has maybe had but a small share in his youth, but he has made up for it since. Maybe you'll no believe me that he can speak three languages besides his own. Every penny of his earnings except what he pays to his mother for his keep is spent on books and on lessons, and every spare moment is gi'en up to that alone. A man that can dae that will make his mark." "You astonish me," said Adair, and, indeed, she looked much impressed. " Then, what makes you say that you fear he might sink low ? A man who is so devoted to intellectual pursuits would never debase himself in any way." John shooie his head. " Ah, but there's a queer strain in him. Miss Adair. He belongs to no common folk ; if only I could get a clue to his birth I would maybe ken better how to deal with him." " Then you think he will not long stay here .' " said Adair. " I am sure of it. He is not putting all that know- ledge into his mind to put it out again on wool spinning," said John, with a dry smile. " But them that lives longest '11 see maist." 34 a Son of Erin to morrcv. And you are to do as you are bid, do you 43paUrt:fr-^^^^^ a.4^|Vre^-r.^^^^^^^^^^^ night. No, you must not come with me Inhr. r.. J.^^^^ °" *"'" ^^P' ^"^ ^aJked only as far as th. gate of his own g-ardpn H- i j a V . ^^ *"® ;■ M,.. Fletcher wants Sg laf ca°e oH V" 'V said, as she paused at the eat! 'Tnf u /.°5"' '^^ insist on eettintr r,ul -T ^ ' ^ "' '''"*" ''»« *<> I know of^a llfl °„ 'Tq "7"',°"' ""= '■■«'« "'-d- suit her Buf ril / ""^^y ''*'' "'''o """"W just totalk^oh^rai^Luti:"' "^ """'''' ''°™ '°--- Adii^'saM j:hrir':f:j''tr" ^^ ^°' «- ye a king might env;.™"^ ^' *' ■""" **' g«'= witl^smir" ""'' •'°'"'" '''" ^^-•'. -d 'eft him The sun had now set, and the sweet spring dusk 1 5n Su&&en peril 35 was quickly shading into darkness as Adair sped quickly along the picturesque park by the water's side. No thought of nervousness or fear troubled her, her mind being entirely occupied with the affairs of the kindly people she had just left. Although the path was lonely, she had been familiar with it all her days ; indeed, there was no road or by-way in and around the town in which Adair Bremner would not have believed herself safe. As she came near to the little green wicket-gate which stood embowered among the graceful larch trees of her father's own woods she saw the figure of a man emerge from the shadow, and stand there exactly as if waiting for her approach. She did not recognise him as any one belonging to the Haugh Cottages, and for the first time in her life an odd feeling of nervous dread stole over her, which deepened as she came nearer and saw that the man quite evidently belonged to the tramp or nomad class who infest the roadways of every town and village. For a moment she felt tempted to turn about and flee back to the friendly shelter she had just left ; she certainly wished with all her heart that she had accepted John Fletcher's offered escort. But she was naturally brave, and summoning all her courage she advanced boldly, trying to reassure herself with the thought that probably the man meant no harm, and might only be resting for a moment by the stile. She was not reassured, however, by his appearance and expression as she came within a yard or two of the stile. He was very poorly dressed, and had that famished, wolfish look only seen on the faces of the outcasts of societv. An nnl-rimmAH hf^orA ori/J unshaven face seemed to add to his ferocious ap- pearance, and it seemed to Adair, now thoroughly I i 36 B Son of iBvin Sty oldf^fht r!.'-'"-''^ °"tfrom under the jeave its light and co^parare /afl'" nd^^'^ ' '° possible. She felt inclined o^ ourbutTrlett"" «P the ba^ ch*\' "* "T" °' "'^ <=°"^g«^ farther bfdding the man a'^'T °'''l " ""^"'^"' ""-l ^hen, forward HeT„ ^ ' f"""-*™"''"?. took a step th^no onf:cf.n '^'jTnH ^""'""^ *° "^''^ »"« straight --n fr;„rof h 'r'andt fT' T.^ P"" d«mwdeH money. * '"^ ""'='' ''°''=e wal* 'te'^biraS'L;'" ■"''""^- '"" '»'°"?'' ^he ha 1, Lf^f,- -e --, .Iter d. ., a"ntr m?to^;:j°"' ^^ *^'' >««- movent " Perhaps you've got something that will H« , ,. as money," said the man. "AnythitTn tt ^i^ times will do Tusf cJ,^. ^"^^'"g »" these hard uo. just show me what vouVf» «««. feel his vile brea^hTn her cheek IheTn '"'"°^' valuable rings on her hands/X ^hetn '^l.^^f ^' vanous ..mes from her father," and which were" W 5n SuOOen peril 37 fore precious to her. A something came over her, a swift determination that she would not be thus shamelessly robbed ; so as the man laid hold of her wrist she lifted her other hand and dealt him a blow directly in the face. Looking back upon it afterwards Adair never could remember how she had presence of mind to do it. She remembered thinking that probably this would so enrage the man that he might kill her on the spot, but just at that moment she heard a hasty foot on the path, and the next moment some one had the cowardly assailant by the back of the neck In a grip of iron, and she was free. A blinding mist seemed to swim before her eyes, and she remembered no more. When she came to herself she was in her own room, and her mother's anxious face was bending over her. ^^ "Oh mother, where am I .? " she cried, tremblingly. Oh. I remember, it was Robert Fletcher who came up. Is he here?" ^ " He has been, dear," said her mother, soothingly. He brought you home, and he has also succeeded in delivering into custody the man who gave you such a terrible fright. I shall never be able to forgive myself for allowing you to go down there alone." "It was terrible," said Adair, with a shudder. « I shall never forget how I felt ; but you must not trouble about It, mother ; just think how many hundreds of times I have done the same thing. John Fletcher wanted to bring me home, and I would not allow him. Oh I shall never be able to thank his son. I wish he had not gone away. I should like to have seen him." It will be an easv matter fr» coo u;^ .,.i-*=- - - , are able for it," said Mrs. Bremner, tenderly. « I don't know what your father will say when he comes home. 38 1^1 H Son of Erin He will certainly blame me for allowing you to go out so late without one of the boys." " Oh no, he won't. It's all right now. I am so ashamed of myself for having fainted. Did poor Robert Fletcher have to carry me all the way up here .? I feel quite sorry for him." " He did not appear to find you very heavy, my dear," said Mrs. Bremner, allowing herself to smile. " Fortunately, some one else came along who could relieve him of the scoundrel who gave you such a fright, and who is by this time no doubt safely locked up." " It is quite an adventure, mother ; but not one I should care to repeat. I never shall forget how I felt ; but I know I was determined he should not have my rings without a struggle. Now I must get up. It IS quite too late, I suppose, to see Robert Fletcher to-night ; but I shall never rest until I have thanked him myself for what he has done." "Your father is not likely to forget it, my dear" said Mrs. Bremner. " I don't think you should get up, except to make ready for bed. You are quite white ; it will be a little time before you get over this terrible fright." "I am so thankful that I am safe, mother," said Adair, and there was a distinct tremor in her voice "Now I know what a dreadful thing it is to be really afraid/ ■M^i^ y.- ._- JHaLr.zgii^ M^TTiffi^BtmiBP^If^ " ."'■■■'hi^^ ^jS5*yiWfc'^fc^^ii^|NSfar^iMl^S'-"««» CHAPTER V AN INTERESTING INTERVIEW IRECTLY he went down to the mill next morning Walter Bremner sent for Robert Fletcher to come to his private room. He had been much upset by what had happened, but had said so very little about it that even his wife scarcely realised how it had affected him. Adair was the very apple of his eye, and the thought of the insult and danger to which she had been subjected within a stone's throw of the house was intolerable to him. As the door opened and young Fletcher entered, the millowner rose to his feet, and surveyed him with an intensity of interest which surprised himself. He had shown him a good deal of consideration and kindness for his fat' er's sake, but had never hitherto been personally drawn to him, and for that reason had not sought in any way to cultivate a closer acquaintance with him ; but now he looked at him keenly. The man who had saved his daughter's life must henceforth occupy a different position in his eyes. Robert Fletcher was now in his twenty-second 30 40 B Son or JErm year, but looked older. He was nnf h.r.^ the well-proportioned head. Tfth Tts b"lr'' '"' brow and features clearly defined fh ./ ' '"^"^'^ grey eyes, which had a s fghtr,^eian^^^^^^^^ '''"'''' combined to make a strfk.W "'^^^"^^°^>^ expression. had obeyed the summons to'the maste ' "o'om ""cau": he did nrdesirt^verc^rtri''''''' "■"'■* expression which Mr Rr^L "''"*'' *° •>'» observe =ifhl? u u B'^raner was quick enough to observ^ although he scarcely understood it his hand. <■ I wi'sh ?o L'de '""' """' *"""*"« scarcely trust";::;fr:?;,t..""'"'= °' '''"'*' ' -" yet" wiriTeS' 1^' '"" f '*''■*'' "°' ~"f-edly. that The '*'*^'" "'"ness which seemed to indicate that Miss B,s none thno:^eZs^L^::„4 ^ at th^ "■ '"* '^^^"- °f ~"<' «id Brfmner at the same time continuing his close studv of T' young man's face. Walter Rrer^L ? ^ ** he moreover possessed! « """ "° '^'' «"<1 enabled him to for^ , ' P^'^P''^^ ^ift which judgment ^f ThatTer.'' ZT^ZTtl!^ "'T aT nl^-t!^ ^ ]?: tHrougtt'rbiMir hrj r ^ . "° ^^ ^'e'sd the political arena he had found .t scarcely loss serviceable.' H^was ra.L' Bn 5ntcrc0ttn0 interview 4» that he had not b'=ffore observed in young Fletcher the signs of exceptional ability which he now read as easily as an open book. "You may make light of it, Fletcher," he said, quietly; "that is your modesty. But you know as well as I do that you have rendered us an incom- parable service, one which we can never forget nor repay. My daughter will thank you herself when she has opportunity ; meanwhile, I have sent for you to-day to ask if there is any way in which I can be useful to you. Believe me, there is nothing you could ask which I would not at least try to give to mark my gratitude, which is so deep, and will be so lasting that I do not care to speak about it." Bremner uttered these words with emotion, which in some subtle manner communicated itself to the young man to whom they were addressed. His face softened, and became ahnost winning in its look. The attitude of defiance which had been quite marked when he entered the room quickly disappeared, and the better self, the real man, which none saw except the two who loved him, and whom he loved because of all they had done for him, was permitted to assert itself. "Sir, you make too much of it," he said with a smile which Bremner long remembered, " and I have nothing to ask. I don't wish payment for having done my duty." "That's all very well, my man," said Bremner; " but there are some duties which resolve themselves into debts, which have to be acknowledged, and if possible repaid. I will find some means of serving you. It is just possible that when you talk with my daughter she may be able to help me. One thing I should like to ask before you go — are you satisfied with il; I f i 43 a Son of Erin your position in the mill > t* • to give you some promo J' 'l''°"i'"« ' "V-e able possible still is that oTha" ' "' "'"'* ' """'' n>ore sphere altogether'' ^ ^ ^°" """'d '"<« another en>Jl^fr"ra:rVbtd'°„f'' "T'^ ■"'o »« aware breathed in mortal ear ThV° '" "^ "^ '^^ consuming discontenrthe Lu- "T"" ""■■"'• «h= his turbulent soul «« full ^^ '"'""■""^ °f ^^ich suddS' ■'""'" ^'"' *'■"■' *"»'■ -•"• he asked. «on.7fiavelt:'h:ShT''' ""^"""^ «-™-r, in your work. Tell me^^Lt > ^°" '"""' '^"^ ""'h do; there can be no^l" 1" >'°" '^"""^ «ke to may surely believe Robert 1 ^V' '' '*''^'' """ ^o" confiden Jyo- migLt'SatVm: •■ '''"''' ''''''' "^ '>^^'"^:L^v^jt ""= ^°""^ -"- words what it is I want onl r ■ "* *° P"' 'nto here long, although TharX "V""' ''" "°' ^'°P be after." ^ "^'^ ''"°«' "hat it is I would than^:!;XnZ"Your;:rr\"'* ^°- "--^ studies you have so InifnW '"'"^ ""= "^ "" the will work so hard after hUH?' ^"^'"^"^ • » -"an who his mark, Roberf U 1 ^af'' '°' .''^ "'" "'" "ake it is more than p obable th^t ^""','fT °^ y°"' """-i. what would youC to bl .f" """' "^'P >""'• Now.' A slow smile dawned nn fk« .^ ;i am afraid youTL.Va ClrB' '^"• 'f I could only get into Parli^L !' Bremner ; but be a happy man » ^^^^^^'"ent some day I should "Do you think so?" ask-ed th^ m, ". asked the millowner, slightly an 3ntctcBtinQ interview 43 amused, and yet struck by the words. •' Well, much stranger th.ngs have happened, and in thes; days when we have Labour Members and all sorts, a man has only to display unusual power and he is sure to el me what makes you want to go into Parliament Its a harassmg hfe, although I will not deny that it has ,ts compensations. At any rate when a man has once had a taste of Parliamentaiy life he does not care to rehnqui.h it. In your case it would mean servmg a long apprenticeship ; you would need to go to London and get som-. post which would, at least brmg you m touch with politicians." As he spoke these words he observed the young mans eye kmdle, and knew that he had touched upon h.s most cherished ambition. He looked at him with increased interest, not altogether untouched by compassion because he knew that it is such keen ambitious souls who suffer most; they are nevei^ satisfied, but always striving after something beyond "I'll see what I can do." he said, kindly. "Mean- time I should like to have a little further talk with you Can you come up this evening about eight o'clock > a?wer Th' ""^' '"'l '' ''' y°"' ^"^ »^- -ott; thic / u. ^^ ''^^ ^^""^ "°*"« f^^-t^^*- talk about this grand ambition of yours." :5res"^ '^^""^^ '' -^-^y — hft duli h.-.^f ^'r"^' ^°""^ '^""^ ^^'^^"Jty »n dismissing him from his mind. Something in his deep-set eye! stantly thinking about his future, and wondering how 44 a Son of jBrln he could best help him. As he was leaving .1. « to go home for lunch he m„f i "*' J. "^ ""* office out the gates on h,;rv^l" f'"^''"J"»'*''''- dinner hour. ^ ''*''' '° ""'•'^ "fter the has „o^ been soLfTo: he'd T ^'^ ^'^"="" service Rob did us last night >" ''''°''' "' *'«' letSislVdatrVtafLr k'°'^.-'^' '">'-'^ <•- but she had no fea^she saW t,H r ° "''" ''"'^''•• aboutMao.atthetim^.tdlriL:?-"-"-'^ .•t was no L-s rallrfbu^;:!, bT:'^ ^"^ "="-">'• the future. I have be^f ii ■ '*'^°'' *° her in John, and thertra t" mor'e'Tn "im^^ ""' "'°"'-"^' have thought. Hailiwel, wi^fn'o". £ Td t" ,0^-°' "' I have never thought it would, sir" saW T„K wo'uLrfiarhere^. ^^'•'' " ^^ *"- ' ^hi te aa'^^ttloTo^ttrhTaZ-r "^'P "■•■"•«"«' ■•» any idea }" *"' '"bition is .» Have you h.s mother understands him better '^ ° ""^ ' ""■"'' John"'sarth^e' SrnerwlSr? ^^^,' ■" "-"— > told him that stranger thTn^h T''"' "^"^ ' have power and ability yonder ,ohn' ^^^^'"'^- ^'"'"'^ are aware Of. /Jrhtl^ '>°t\7:i^''''' ''^ ^ kent wrfT '^^ *° ^^"V' Mr. Bremner that ,f He h? --°" "'r«<""0 he better able to lltl!.-'' .-^ h.. „vcra, t.mes spc cen to Mary about gaunl^ he office List with- fter the he said, Fletcher of the self for hersel' ; learned turally, her in Drning, of us an BntctCBtUxQ 3ntecview lat is ■ you Brest, hink lent, fiave sre's we 45 London to seek his fortune ; but unless he had some- thing to go to I would set my face ajjainst it." " I quite agree with you there, John ; but it will be an easy matter to find him something to do if he continues of the same mind. I'll see what I can make of him to-night. It's a pity I am not a Cabinet Minister, John, employing two or three private secretaries, that's just what would suit him ; but I'll see what can be done." These remarks gave John Fletcher plenty of food for thought at his work that afternoon. His neigh- bours found him even less talkative than usual, though he was not a man of many words at any time. Punctually at eight o'clock that night Robert Fletcher presented himself at Halliwell ^Touse, and was shown into the library. Thr ,renmers were people of cultivated taste, and possessed a finer library than is usually found in such houses. It was a long wide room of lofty proportions, and the walls were lined with books from ceiling to floor. The moment the door closed upon him, and he was left alone, Robert Fletcher approached the shelves. He had never in his life seen so many books gathered to- gether in one place, and his eyes had an eager, almost a hungry look as he ran them quickly along the shelves, noting the authors' names, many of whom he had long held in reverence. Never had the contrast between capital and labour— a subject to which, as may be understood, he had given much thought- seemed so marked. He saw that not only had the man of wealth every luxury within his reach, but also what was of far more importance in his eyes— fh^ power to surround himself with the great thoughts of all ages. He had in his hand an exquisite copy of 46 a Son of jerfn u^ 1 1 gazing with the reverent ev#. /^r *i. book lover, when he heaM fk^ 7^^*^^"^ eye of the entered, and it seemed to the vounjl^rn. ' "^^^ "• fi CHAPTER VI A MIND OF HIS OWN OOD evening, Mr. Fletcher, father will be down presently ; but I thought I must come and thank you for what you did for me last night. I can never forget it as long as I live." "Oh, it was nothing," he answered, stiffly, more embarrassed than when he had received her father's thanks. "I said to the master that anybody would have done the same." " It's very kind of you to put it like that ; but the service remains just as important," she said, as she laid her hand in his and looked into his face with a very sweet serious expression on her own. " I am only ashamed that I should have been so cowardly, and given you so much trouble." " It's nothing at all," he answered, almost harshly. " I wish you would say no more about it." "Well, I won't," she said, with a smile; "but it was the least I could do to speak a word of personal thanks. You were looking at the books when I cam.e in. I have heard from dear Mrs. Fletcher how fond you are of books." 47 48 H Son of JBvin I! X fi i k 11 111 f^'' 11 li-i "Yes I am," he said, and there was a hint of oain sneives. If i could only be allowed to spend all '• I am sure you would, and there's no reason wh„ you shouldn't spend as much time as you Hke heTe " ^he sa.d, quickly. "I am fond of Joks. too but of course, only in a girl's fashion. I somet mes 'think that our education is such a mistake." readtaL*^"'?" °" '"'" •" """"""''• ''''^ astonishing readmess. I mean to say," he hastened to add observmg her surftrise, "that no education i con ducted on the proper lines in the schools. Of course 11 areT:::^'' V"" '"°''"' "' '"'^™<^"*' ^^^l dirrsTteVndonT ™^' '"" ='"^™«''' '' «<-" s« She s'i^^:.^JS''"™b^:: f^z '"'°°' "°""' fin^ ^ ...u "**s""y , out 1 am sure you would find my .ather agree with you. You have read a ^eit many books, have you not.' Is there an„ !,.,« would like > " ^ ""* yo" take°th;m°ail 't ""'^ '"' -f "^ "'"■''"y- " ' ^"W ifbtX'this." "" ''*^' " ' '""• ' ^''''" "- » " I am sure you will," she answered, more and mo,, impressed, as her father had been in the mom'ng w^ the same hidden personal power which she couldC have cxplamed. She saw in him a mind abov« fte common, a spirit perhaps somewhat out of tune w^ Its surroundings, and a determination which JuS sooner or later ensure success. An interesting m^ beyond a doubt, and to those who Wn™ ^(1 "*" eminently lovable. Adair Bremner was a ttinto Md B /IDin& of bis ©wn 49 a reader herself, and it interested her inexpressibly to have speech with this young man of whom she had heard much which had already claimed her attention. While she was listening to his quietly-expressed words she did not forget, woman-like, to take some note of his personal appearance. She saw that the badly-cut, homespun suit could not altogether hide the ease and manly grace of his figure, nor did she fail to observe that his hands and feet were more gracefully fashioned than those usually found in his own walk of life. Then his manner, though quiet an ! unassuming, had little of awkwardness in it. T oting this, however, Adair forgot to take into fe: o^at her own singular gift of putting those with whom she talked completely at ease. "Do you read German.?" she asked presently. "Mr. Fletcher told me that you could talk several languages. I can lend you German books. You know I was three years at school in Weimar, and I have quite a little German library in my own room. I am reading Hegel." " You read Hegel," he exclaimed, in surprise. « He does not write women's books." Perhaps not ; but you see the lady with whom I lived in Weimar was very exceptional; she had quite a philosophical — what you would call a man's mind," she added, with a smile ; " and, fortunately for me, she took a great interest in me, and introduced me to the very best literature of her country." "I have often wished I could get some German books. They are so scarce and so dear," he said, simply ; « I have never felt that I should be justified in spending so much money on them." "I understand. Well, if you will come up another 4 s« a Son of Erfit day, perhaps some Snurdsv =rf. without taking timeV. 4t^k !^!"°°"' ^^'^ Adair, .onal proposal she was ^^kiZ 'ril "X^ ""'°"™"- treasure-house. I have a dear Ll. °" ^"^ "y up in the tower; you oughT to s e tr™ °' T' °^" I «n see the Eildons in fte ° full t ?" ^'■°"' '"'^ never allowed .o forget Sir Walt" ^i: ^' '° ^ '™ iii-st edition of his book, I ' ''*"* " "hole Wrthday. I arn s'o ;* 'ofr ThT.!' °" "^ '''^' too, which he wrote with hu u "'' ^ ""^^^ « '«tter, of Redheugh. You know t^" '""'' '° ^"- R"del and o intLtetl'rAhtt:^::,?^ -"■'"'^ -"'• 4:btke?[rki:tc"f h" "" ^"'°'^ °" *« '■•"-y eager interest, as if almost feting" ,'^" """"'S with " I am sometimes or^ I ,?m^ '° °'* * ^'^^'^ ''O'd. «id Adair. " W S . t "°' ''™ ''" *'«'« days," asmyauntknerhil'tsrehir-'r" ^" "^^'^^ !fen to his voice in'i timate ^alk ShT^"'' *° life was worth living then." ' ''° '*'"'' " But I hope you do not sav thaf .-f • I'vmg now > " said Fletcher ^, • .f " ""' ""rth patience with that cry!" ' '"""^- " ' '•»"« no mulh°!:;orth" rvfng^'tde'ef l"'h li l""'-^ '''' '^ -V and wicked gin wfr; to stV a„v°th ''', "" ""^'''^'^^ comes father. We hZ^LTu ^^ ^^- ^""«=« «on," he sa"d %Mir^.T"'' °' ^^''^P' <>'?•»- doesn't look th; wote^or her^Lr T^^'" ^"""■- fellow who attacked her iZ i. } '''"" "*° ^e • '^^ " °n« of those pests of a nDini) or bis ®wn 51 society who are an unspeakable danger to the com- munity. Of course, he will be punished ; but after his term of punishment ends we have no guarantee that he will not retuni to the same bad habits." "Did you inquire into the causes which have brought him to this ?" asked Fletcher, quietly. Struck by the words, Mr. Bremner looked keenly into the young man's face. « No, I have not. You think, perhaps, that he may have been the victim of circumstances." " He might be," said Fletcher. « I can hardly con- ceive it possible that any man would adopt such a career through sheer love of it." "I do not know that," said the millowner, thought- fully. « There is no doubt that we have among us a number of criminally-disposed persons who are the natural enemies of law and order, and always enemies to the community." "I grant that, sir; but I still hold that there are many causes— some removable— which have made him what he is. Take our prison system, for instance. Suppose that man gets three or four months' hard labour, as he most likely will, he will not come out of confinement imbued with any more kindly feelings towards the well-doing portion of his countrymen. Nay, I could almost predict that he comes out a worse man than he goes in." The young man spoke with a considerable passion which strongly impressed those who listened. "I think you had better go upstairs, Adair," he said, turning to his daughter. "Mr. Fletcher and I have several Jhings to discuss affecting his future. Tell your mother we shall come up and see her in half an hour or so." s« S Son of Erin Adair felt somewhat reluctant m i She would have liked to hear tL^ •*'""'« ">°'n- Pnson system, but her facer's , "'"'"' °" *e peremptory, and she did not dream oTh- T*' ''«'"'>' "I «e that you have Xn °f d'^obeying. to several ques.Ls wWch i" li^^??' °' '"""S"' >ng ones by-and-by " slu T„^'y '° ''^^on'e burn- closed. '■Wespoke'^'oflXic^th?''' """" *^ <'°°' 'ng that the field was ev^ open ,„ ™'"'^' ^"'''°'- you w juld be in the advanr^ L ^'"'' ' Slather that , "I should be wherever r5""''°^''''^'''''"'»" "ke'y -o be accomS-' s"dX T" "^'='' ""<» eye. « I have thought !' J^t J ''"• *■* """dling »nd I thinkthereis ag eatdl 1°" """"^ "'''J^ts •nystery is that our leSato^i '"^ '° ^ "^""^ ■ the Eremner smiled f ' ' 1° "°' ''eem to see in- experience of poLa, ifeTi'', ''■^ ^'"''«- His t";" "t is to m'lny only a game ^k^ *'"'«'" '"•™ sk.II. and sometimes mere^v foT.h ^ ^^"^"^ "''h personal ends, also that ft ^^ advancement of on both sides kctuateXthrhilT. °"'^. '^ ^^"^ ^ew d-d not choose to say so at ^ht "'°"'''' '"'the to one of his own workmen """""" """°e„t ^bout r;r%;i*::?\v- ---^ « mmute ago think the fellow wC^; t'^1'' "'"' "'O'-gh I d-ghter last nighr°ch° Z^^! ^^^''^''^ "'y he may receive, I shall Z,u . '"'^ Punishment before it expired, and ' to finH^"'"* °' ^^'"^ ^im the causes of his degradaC" " "'" "''^' y" term '■" "S -^"-Sef ,:i:' -•'' -inly o^thisi:;t::;i;rTL::^Tt--i'<'*^--« Deen tnmking a good deal a aum of ws ©wn jj about you to-day, and I think it more than probable that I can find you something to do in London. You are a lover of books ; even a librarian's post at first would be better than nothing." "A librarian's post!" repeated Fletcher. "You could not give me anything which I would appreciate more. I have yet so much to learn." "Ah, well, book knowledge is all very well and valuable m .ts place; but I don't know that it is of the highest value to the politician. A mere bookworm would never achieve success in .he House-he wanS to be made of sterner stuff. Well, we can say nothing very definite about it, of course, until I return to town I sha 1 be back ugain at Whitsuntide ; but in the meantime, if I hear of nothing at all likely existel^""' ^°" ■""'' *'"'''° ' *"" "°' '■°'g^' y^' «I am very grateful, sir; but I would not wish you to trouble yourself about me. I am not afraid for the future. I thmk I could fight my own battle" "Very well said," observed the millowner. " I don't dishke your independence; there's too little of it in these degenerate days. At the same time, unless you take advantage of all the stepping-stones available, your progress towards the goal of your ambition i., hkely to be slow. Miracles sometimes happen, but whl. T \u " " /"^ '°"S ^'^P '"™"' 'he spindng. wheel to the woolsack." Both smiled at the simile. rtlrd^tanr" ""■ ^-"'-''-"^•^.J to more "1 should like you to write me a letter at your leisure, setfng forth your qualifications, and, as far • K?^ \y°'" flesires. I may never show it ; but it might be of value all the same." 54 a Son of Ertn youZ Tht' Tan X''^'^ ' r' "'"'y '-•»" nearest to hfm r the one X •"' ^T "'"''• "« the highest Now shril ""'^''^ *" **'"«ve Bremner?" ' **" "" ^o upstairs to Mrs CHAPTER VII THE BEGINNING ANY months elapsed before Robert Fletcher heard any more about a situation in London. Sometimes he thought his employer had forgotten him in the stress of other matters claiming his attention. These were stirnng times in the political world, the early days of ItLn f^;!'.''''"' :^'"^ ^"^ ""g^^^'"& th« earnest attention of all m authority. Robert Fletcher, among his many studies, found time to make himself com- fpr^r"lf ^'1°?^^ '^*"^*^°"' ^"^ ^'' i"t»'"^ate know- ledge of the whole Irish question would have shamed many a member of the House. Sometimes John hi ! VK-^f '"'^"'"^ ^* '^^ ^^^"' '"'^"^^ sympathy he exhibited towards Ireland-it amounted almost to a passion. John himself was not without feeling for the romantic, lovable people who had within their own nature all the elements of unrest and turbulence, but It was rather the dreamy, bookish interest of the poet than of one actively interested in the struggle. "Man, Rob, ye are clean carried awa!" he said one evening to his adopted son when he had listened with patience to a more than usually bitter tirade ss 56 a Son of levin m' against those who obstinately refused t. „• ■ . to Ireland. " Hae vf n-„„ . *'"f='' '° g've justice something to be saW nn K •i'"''' "'"' 'here's aye scotiandLcht'i^t'f Zi': i,:,^^:„'. ^^ "-in reason. When do Scotch »ff • ' ' *' ""•<^'''« Parliament, tell me thaTlt-frn-^'' '""'"°" '"" «■« shoved aside, but we d nna mlt' ^'^''" ""= ''''>' ""^'^e "There's ruth 7n whaTv "' * '""^ "^oot it." so shamefully treated as thTl 'T ^•"'' ^' "" "o* blood of every fair mfnH ^ ?*" ""• " "akes the "I whiie:Th Sk y"; ft w" •"'■'' r """■"■^ ■-- Rob," said the old L i ^"^ '"«'' Wuid in ye eye.' "Tha f::a r • ^rce " r'"''" ''" "'^ '<'"'^^y Robert Burns." "' "^""' "'eVe named ye Young Rob slightly smiled .-». • .- "to the old man-f kiL y hlour ft ' ""•' '"°™™' to harbour any bitter or harT?/' . """ ""P^sible atmosphere. He was a born 1 l.""^*"' '" *" ge"«e hot to a fault Burh. ^^'^'■' ^""^ ^''^ "°°d was from the res ainfng „: J" "7^, '''''^ '° get away Spitalhaugh ; in his m^m^n" of n! '^°''' ~«''^' « ■nent an unseen hand r/r!!", J ^ '"°" ^"^ excite- voices he loved baSe him be still '°"'' '■"■"■ ''"<' *^ I shouldn't wonrfpr tu clue. I suppose," he said w.Th '/^l "°' "'^ ^"ghtest ".s rugged face ThTs tas the '°"* °f -'^«f-"ness on of his birth had ever been sn^t J *""^ ""^ -"-e^tion many strange tho'^htrhaS from r""" "'^"'' *''°"g'' through the young man's mlnf"" '""' '° '™« P-ed think^'^tZr-S^ta-r "T ''' ^ ''-' ' nicht we picked ye up_nufrfl*' "'""' ^^ «°« that -on the doorstep o' vourT' '^"''r «'°™ of humanity She'U let ye see the^ i ^ ''^ '"""^ ^' Stockbri/ • ^ "'^'"' ^ "'""» doot, if you ask he^' But tell me. are ye that anxious to prove that ye are not sib to us, Rob ? " ^ "No, oh no— how can you say that? It was a passing curiosity. No, a thousand times no ! I only r. K .r'" ^T ^''^ ^"^ blood, father. I would be a better man. John Fletcher, quietly. " Ye have ever been a dutiful son to your mother an' n,e. an' ye are the ve^ apple o' her e'e But if it be that ye leave us sun^ here are some things I would waim ye against-thU terrible excitement ye get yoursel' wrocht up to worth'talcTn' • k"'"''' '^" ""'"S' '" *- "°"d worth takin so much oot o' yersel' for." " It is only enthusiasts who win great causes » answered Rob. "There is too much fukewarle ;. Thats why so many wrongs are unrighted, why injustice walks unchallenged every day " "It may be," said the old man, with' a sigh, for he nature which it would be hard to curb. "Thev are ^ft^^ d"f *':^'""'™' '° themselves, m% daein their day's darg a-s the Lord appoints it to them; so they are happiest, and serve Him best" RnK t T "f. * "'^" *"" "'' ""n h'art," said Rob, shrewdy. .. And there must be fighters so that peaceable folk may have the peace they cf ave for '' h„J^ J, "'*, 'r ' ""'""* ^'^^•" '^'^ John, good- them this mornm' as I watched an April shower creeping owre Minnigrey. They dinna please tT- they havna the ring they used to hae. Ltil "fee' mony o the best things o> life, lad, belangs to Vouth an no to auld age." /uum, 58 S Son of Erin f!^; '!!! mi Apr.? when a I ZT. ^' °" ' '"^^'^ «ven!„g i„ a \^tX :ir."' Ror.m? ;° '"? '°"^' °^ his hand, and benf hi. , ''* *''P °f Pap*"- m which b , ught o" t aU Z """"k" "'■"' " ''""^""^ was a touches pctu"e!^^L"'l'''" ''; "" '*'«• " what on the shoul'der o^h 'u "'"aV""'"^ '?"•- look on his face on ,.,!,• u '^"""Ser, an eager, wistful mark. hL hal °" jl^'t *''^*"'='"e "g* had set its temples, and he could 17 ' *"" *•"" =">■'« «he gIasL,'whrch h^dt^o 'Tt^h^Tl'^r "'^ ""^ Whether Rob had Vv^r J '^"'" ''^'■°'-« him. did not know but he had " '"^"""« '""'^''f *« «ne cHtical g,? tw h^S red^rr f hung upon h, verdict now almost ^Telthle^^" '' said q ickly ^tkint'h" ""' "^"'" *' '•" " »« ■■ There's Voj:;etw"g':fanfwi'The'°HV' ^''^'""■"^• .hemt. should Har'X';'Jf//rw7i;;^^"* -riThi^ticf^ rfofj:rth^^ "^'-"«» r"t?m;ter;h!:rhei^:!'f^:kn^^ ye are wantin' ? " ^ ^ keepsake thoughts when you set down this h'ne-l ^°"' '"The eager spirit, victim of its own unresf?- " Maybe, lad, maybe ; I winna say." Ik XTbe XcQinniriQ 59 " Then it is mine, and I will keep it till the day of my death. There is a sad note in it I don't like. What is it that troubles you — now that mother's health is restored ? You should not be writing such sad stufif." "It's the shadow o' pairtin', my man, ar' here's the maister come to gie ye yer manhirff ortiers. I see it in his face." Both rose as Mr. Bremner came through the gate and up the narrow path between the roses. It was Easter week, and they knew he was expected at Halli- well, though they had not heard of his actual arrival. He bade them good-evening pleasantly, and, standing a moment by the summer-house door, remarked on the picturesque house and the promising appearance of the garden. "You ought to take nothing but happy and ennobling thoughts with you from this place, Robert," he said, with a keen, straight look at the young man's face. " I have heard of something which might suit you. Though it has some disadvantages, still, it is certain to be a stepping-stone." "I said ye had come to gie him his marching orders, sir," said John Fletcher, and his face was sad. "Well, Halliwcll will not keep him, John," said the master, good-humouredly. " So it behoves us to do what we can for him. Well, Robert, I suppose you have heard of Captain Byrne, late member for South Meath ? " " Yes, sir, and I saw him here last autumn when he was visiting you at Halliwell," answered Rob, and his face glowed with eaeer exnertannr " He's coming again presently, to-morrow ; in fact, he has resigned his seat, and is retiring from 6o K' B i a Son of Ertn Parliamentary Jife. I h„.„ . , the hopeless struggle. He^. 1-'"".^^" ""d of home to devote himself to !,>„ ^ ^^ ''*'='' '° ""'^ ^^h has in contemplate hi o""? h""*" ' "^^"^ "■= M reference to Ireland ^der theTc/™"' ""'' I daresay you can guess the rest 1 » '""*" '"'«• cap^;^S:^''KlS'4-;-ohelphimi„any .75.! "?'"owner nodded. one of the i"b]ect'; 0/ hfe ^slf LT' '"■"' '" ^°''' »"<» the disadvrantages of such . '°/^»you. One of enforced residence in Ireland ?orT '^''"■P "°"" •» " That would be no H^.".y "* '""* »' '«sf ' Rob, eagerly. .« i h^.t jr'"^' *° ""=" ^'■'•" «>" Ireland." ™ *'""'>'« "'anted to go to hot" a"n^ stnit hl^ vei„r" Zf" ""•" --' ""> rash to be a canny Sco?- n..f " , u"' """^ ^'''ty an' Mr. Bremner smiird'^lTam'u"/;""- ""'*'>'• '^'>-« Hober■r:rv^3^i:X:^t^rhr'^--. rm\eratiL.=--ti,,Vn --°^°^^^^^^ though exacting whe^ve^dutv^ "" " '''■'"' ""«t«^. never spared himself he w1^no^ '°""'™^- "^ "as h« high sense of dut; I W " l^T! """"^ " « to come to the decisi^* L ht^ ' *"" "" '='"''«' "m m him yet." ^^ *^" guid years' work "So he has, John, so he has Tf • that has made him res,>„ but hi •' "°' ^"'"P^^***>' iiiats the real truth; and he Ubc 35efl(nnfttg 6i prefers to quit political life altogether rather than be perpetually at loggerheads with his own party." " He's a wise man," said John, thoughtfully " It's internal strife that eats the vitals o' mony a great cause." " It is," said the millowner, with a sigh. " Things I confess, are looking black for Ireland. I shouldn't wonder if August saw a general election in the heat of It. One thing, Robert, I could not .atisfy Captain Byrne about. Are you a shorthand writer ? " "Yes, sir." ^ " I see you have equipped yourself thoroughly, and It will repay you. What Captain Byrne wants is a modest, unassuming fellow, who will not be above doing as he is bid. He could get many in England • but he has his own ideas and peculiarities, and has a contempt for the ordinary college-bred youth. He was interested at once when I told him about you, and I see no reason why you shouldn't suit each other admirably, and be of great mutual benefit " « I will do nrjy best, sir," said Rob, quietly, but with a good deal of earnestness. " I don't know how to thank you. I shall try to be worthy of your recom- mendation." "We may all live to be proud of you yet. who knows f said the millowner, genially. " Well John I was delighted to hear from Mrs. Bremner such good accounts of your wife. I haven't time to pay my respects to her to-night. I am afraid she won't thank me for enticing her son away. Tell her I'll come and make my peace with her one of these days. Good evening. Robert. I'll send a message from Halliwell When Captain Byrne comes, appointing a time for you •" wiiic up lu nalhweil and see him." " Thank you, sir," said Robert, and his face wore a 4-/\ :| ! 63 a Son of Brfn ScoXa^L't ras?;. ;:r ^t "'°"''- '^'"■" hrs well-train'ed hors: wart^h^ed '"''" ^^'^ ''""^ of the stor», .ear^ t s^e^earVS TT"^ no?^WsVathV?aid'Tdhr "•""'r""' '"~°'- '' '' '^"T^^T r?'" "-° --^^^^^^^^^^ ^" sharSy ^''li pTo'h '"' " u '■^''■" ="''' J""-" Fletcher, o.d^:fa^ire"afhV:redr *^ '°f '" ""'^oo^ thought of his blamdes S of hi-"°^''\ W"- "e what an inestimable privilege had h^.n I ! ' ,. ^^ .•nt,n.ate ..at.-o„ .,th h^ af^ .^otveTan^'J" 'Z^, CHAPTER VIII A NEW FRIEND T seemed to John and Mary Fletcher that The dull, thoughtful look, the manner, quiet h;.„ l.t- rooroseness, seemed to fall away from h^m like a garment for which he had no further us™ He became alert, eager, joyous, like one who had e«jythmg before him, who anticipated a future which would satisfy h.m completely. They did not say was in the ""h" '^T "' *°"^'' '"^ «me thougS^ was m the mmds of both, that soon the boy they ftol r ^'"^r"u'^ "» 'heir own would be cut off from them, and though he might retain them "n lovmg memory, which indeed they did not doubt 11 v., u ""'"y' """y- °'''"°«' parents, but I do not beheye that any ever felt it more keenly than SiM 7° ^'"P'^ ^o-'^ who, never having h^ an! unkno:l tr °^"' *""• """ " P--' ^- - - They did not Prudpp hJm fU^ j /•. to befall h.m, nay, they saw that it was what he 64 a Son of jErin N' needed and deserved. His emwth u.a u , stond d:"""/' f '''""'^- °" the ev:„i„rof the second day after the interview with Mr. Brfmner a message came from Halliwell asking Rob toTo uo Tf^, ^° '°°"" ^^"^ *e messenger gone however and Rob was preparing to follow him.^than a seS knock came to the cottage door. Mary openeTk ^LT "T"^ '° ^'""'^ °" the threshoU M ■ ..Z^°^ '"^'"S. Mrs. Fletcher," said Bremner "We have followed hard upon the messenger T suppose he has been here. Captain Byrne suddenly wellS R kT" ""= '° """^^ your acquaintance^ ;:« To ^^''- '° "°* ' "='- ^^ '-^ to P-ent Mary's face, sweet and comely as it had been „ '!,?°'?;?. '' J""' g««''"g ready, sir, to go up to Halhwell she said. « Please to walk in. We hae b« asma- b.ggin', sir," she added to the stranger « bu ye are kindly welcome to it" :^tri''J°Jfi^ -'-.°^ the^T^tintln-Vm^' a flew fvicnb 6s quietly making her own keen observations of the man who wanted to take her boy away. He had a somewhat stern look, and an abrupt manner of speech, which, however, were only the sheath of a truly kmd heart. His eye softened as it took in the whole aspect of the room ; ifs sweet wholesome- ness and simplicity seemed to reflect the entire character of the folk who dwelt in it. "There cannot be much wrong with a man reared in this environment, Bremner," he observed, as Mary slipped out of the room to find her husband and bid Kobin make haste. •'I thought it would please you. They are the salt of the earth here-the old folk, I mean. Don t theihlooH r"^ """" i' °"^^ "" "^^P^^^ ^°"' that their blood does not run in his veins." " Still, he has known no other influences or sur- roundings, and they should tell," observed the captain • and no further speech was rendered possible by the opening of the door. It was Robert who entered and the captain, before he spoke a word, eyed him' keenly. Rob bore the scrutiny well, though Mr. Bremner observed him grow a little pale. **I had better leave you to discuss the matter Zrf ; n^^'t" " ^" '"'^' ^'^•"^- " I daresay I shall find Mrs. Fletcher in the kitchen. Pray take your time. There is no hurry, and we shall have a fine moon to walk back by." So saying, he went out and closed the door said tL'' 'T""' yo" have ambitions, young man," said the captain, gruffly. " Come over here, and sit aown. Do you know anvthine^ about the t.j.u character, sir.^ There is nothing°ScoVch about Tt-I nothing steady or slow or sure, d'ye hear > " 5 66 H Sort ot Edn li » « not m the least discomfited by the peremptory toi^ ^ of the old gentleman's voice. "And it reveals of course, a good deal of the national cha.acter" ' "I daresay. How do your sympathies ro> I don t ask your political views, for you are not exp.-rte,! to have ar,y, d'ye hear?" <=xp'-.teu " Yes, sir I have always sympathised with Ireland ohe has not got just:, c, ^Z^L "'^"' ' ^° *' '"' "^ '■'at, and she's in a deplorable state at prese.v ■ b„t her affairs will nLr be mended so long .« ,h,., present Government Ta fclnf >■ t^'V'^ ''"' •"""'"g P-Wic life I'm tick of It— sick and ashamed. I'm going back to the conntiy to do my duty hy my tenLts^nd .hrt's a pretty tough job ■„ these times, I tell ;ou, w th this ^r^Cl"' '"^ °"'- go^d-g the^ on tomt^! ness. And Im going to write a book— a history of jny country as she is-fair and square and above board, setting down nothing in malice. It'll open *e muchlf / ^"f *T; '■"" -^ S°°'' "Shte, but not much of a scribe, and I want help. What my friend ifke fhTr^ ; '"'^ "" °'^°" "^^ interested me. I RvJl^r'" f "*°:?''"«0' and blunt terms did Captain Byrne lay bare his views to Robert Fletcher and then waited for his reply. ' 3i/j5y first duty would b= to write to your dictation, .u.jca than I did— by Gad he did !— so I told him to go ? I xp-.rte! go hoiT'c and a new JTrienB book himself. «7 hold write your toi.giie ? You look as if ^ „,„ " Yes, sir, I think I can." ' "'"' 'You'll be willing to make yourself generally use- ful, I .appose? I don-t mean by .hat that you would clean the wmdows or mow the grass. I'lUrearyou iike a gentleman so long as you behave like one/' "^ " h„f i,f '"'' ^'*' "'■■•" '"'^ ^<"''*"d •>« looked his il i' "oment-honest, manly and sincere. The capt^n thought more of him as every moment pass^! You re uncommonly like some one I have seen" he sa.d, presently. " But I can't place the resem blance, a chance one. of course. Do you know th"; m your training and environment here you have some thing wh,ch money could never buy .» ^t wul beTnt " peX^u'JhtVT^o^pr^^^^^^^^^ :Sm1„f ''-" -^ '^''- - °^ -' -^aras": " I hope not, sir. That would be a desoicable shame," sa.d Rob, and the colour flushed hisface^^wL S e caZn's'^nr'"':''' '"'"'' ^'""^ "'^ "<" --J Irfght observation, nor did he fail to read them "Well, we haven't said anything about salarv" I,. T;ha,!"r"r-. " ^"^^ ^°' ■" >'- -"«* '- would be » ^ n '° ''"^" " '° y°"' ^'•'- Perhaps it J"lnur ' *° ""* """^ '^ '^"^ -y -vices •'It'Jl*! '"tl ^'°"'''" '"'•' *« =='Pt«i". grimly bu : "rL :.''!_^" 'I'*. "-S-- I-m a p'oof ma^ nof ^Z T u""' '" '**'' ^ <=»" promise you will not get less than you have been earning. It'si„ 68 a Son of jBvUi Wicklow I live. Rathdrum is my station and Kil yoT Ts heT '' ^^" '^ ^^P'-b- before I'wtt you. Is the bargain struck, then ' " some°orhr'"'"'' "•"'' "■" ■="?""■"• °'d-fash,oned in RoZfv^t r^"' '""'''" °" ^'•^''''"g hands upon t Robert Fletcher's career had begun. ROBERT FLKTCHKR'S CAHKKR UAD HEGUN.' [Page 68. f ' CHAPTER IX GOOD-BYE HE final settlement of affairs created a still more marked change in Robert Fletcher. i" man who sees a career before hi- latent quali.ie^oA '"Ltu^f ' n "' '?^^ °"' ^" '"^ intervenerf Zl u ' ^"""^ 'he weeks which Ind 7h? , ,-" .*!" *"•"■"* »"* Captain Byrne and to all the meai.s of culture within his reach U was in the first week of September that Captain Z7lr°'",!;V'^ *"' '"^ P°^' -''^ "-> open and X iTlt a ; f 1 '° ^" "^ "' Killane'wit'hout a rived an^ k v^'^r^ """"'"^ "'''^" "^'^ ^""""ons tabk t T.- ■'"" '^"""y """ ''"■■"S round the h» passed it ','!"' M^ ■"'"'• ''°'' '^="' '"^ '^"" ='"1 men passed it silently across the table to his mother strof r 'v^" ""*'■"« °' ''■'= f»^« "^ betrayed no tTefir-t T ".'• u'^"^ ""'y ^'^^ => '■- ""« on table wthf '"m "''" '''^ "'^ '^'"^^ ^»>^" o" the table with a v sibly trembling hand. He IS for off. Mai-y" l,er i....s,_j her with , 1 : ji , ""=Danu saia, iooking at her with a kmdly and sympathetic eye, for he knew 69 70 a Son of Erin ! I that go when he might Rob'' final departure from home would be sore upon Mary, perhaps sorer than any of them could guess. ^^ "On Monday he wants me to go," said Robert. Ill need to go up to Halliwell and tell the master" " That's very hurried, isn't it ? " asked John, still keeping his tender eye on Mary, who had never spoken a word, but left her supper untouched on the plate "Hurried at the last," answered Rob; "but he said It would be the first week in September, probably." Weel your things are a' ready, my man." said Mary, and. controlling herself by an effort, she nodded brightly across the table to him, " and I dinna care wha sees them ; no a gentleman among them ever gaed oot wi' a better stock. I'se warrant when ye come back they il no be as weel worth looking at— that is to say, if ye ever come back." Rob pushed back his chair and rose hastily to his feet Perhaps for the first time he actually realised that It was a home he was leaving, a home whose love and^precious associations he had perhaps prized too " Oh, mother ! don't make it any harder for me " he said, abruptly, and strode out by the door to the garden upon which the harvest moon lay in a white flood He was not ashamed of his honest emotion ; but they had taught him that to make too much display of the inner feelings is weak and unmanly. Mary wiped her eye with the corner of her apron and looked across the table at her husband with a somewhat wan smile. J I dinna think he is glad to go, John." she salA He win- a forget us a'thegither." " No. and why should he. Mary ? " asked John, with Coot)-bse r» a sharpness merely assumed to hide a deeper feeling. " We have fathered him and mothered him, and that's something he canna aye get in this world, even for siller, Mary.'' " I dinna ken how it is, John," said Mary, as she folded her hands on her knee, while her face wore a strange, far-away look, " but I think there is something great in store for Robin, and that though he may no forget us a'thegither, yet he never will be to us the lad he has been." ^ " We cannot expect it, Mary," said John, with a sigh ; " but whatever Rob may become in the future we have been the makin' of him, and he cannot get past that. If we hadna ta'en pity on him that Burns' nicht in Edinburgh, where would he have been noo ? " " Oh, somebody else micht hae picket him up, my man," said Mary, with a quizzical smile. " That may be ; but the chances are that but for us he would have aye been a puirhoose bairn, and no wha he is the day. I have a queer feeling aboot him gaun to Ireland, Mary. I may be wrang, but I think that the Lord is leading him to his ain country, it may be to his ain folk ; but we'll see." " I hae the very same feeling, John," answered Mary, "and whatever happens, naething would surprise me." I will not linger over the last hours spent by Robert Fletcher in the poet's cottage. They were distin- guished by a quiet intensity of feeling which, though it did not find actual voice, was deeply felt by them all. It seemed as if in these hours they drew more closely together in heart than they had yet done, and when the actual moment of parting came it was full of the keenest pain. Rrb tried to tell them some^ thing of what was passing in his heart, to give voice 7« fl Son of Ertit to his gratitude, and to assure them that whatever enshnned m h.s heart, and that their goodness would never be forgotten. rl.o^jr"' "°J^^'>^'-">y man," said John, as he clapped h,m on the back at the door ; " what we want your duty wherever you may be, and that yi never forget your Maker; and mind that the door here is a^e ZT '°.r\""^u r •^^5'' "'''^"^>'" y^ "ke to set your foot on Its threshold." '^ Rob could not speak, but John— a self-contained h." rnc:'"t%r" """^^'^-''"^ -' misu„deS fnto h. . «|7 Parted-the young man to go out mto the great world, his heart throbbing with ambition and hope, the old to go back to his quiet firesT and pray that he might be kept in the right way and saved from temptation and sin. The actual parting over, although it left a deeo t^L:\ % '""' '''^'^"^^ "^San naturally ^ anticipate the future, which, if not actually roseate with promise, had still sufficient of possibility^-n Tto g.ve him the liveliest satisfaction. Then it had the unique charm of novelty. Hitherto his short journey! mgs from home had never taken him further thTn Edinburgh on the one side and Newcastle-on-Tyne on the other, where one of Mary's brothers had a large engineering business ; he had never even seen London s"uth°"Tt°" *'" r"'°" '"" ""' '^^' him so f^r went to hTI °; ^.'P'"'" ^y'"''' ■■"«™ctions he Dub in H '' ■ :^T '•" '°°^ '*" ">-" boat for Dublin. He spent the hours of passage on deck In l"s present mood sleep was far fjom his eyes, and he grudged to lose even a passing glimpse of the „ew I '-* *-=h n^f; its"L''T„d"n'^ ' '"'" ••?"' '" °""'"' ''^""'■•^hed at Its size and prosperous look. He had long thouX of Ireland as an oppressed and downtrodden countt ■n which he scarcely expected to find any IT^Z't prosperity; but so far as a cursory view served hi™ the^^capital city compared favourabl); with r„; he had Early in the afternoon he took train for the litfl» Wicklow town which was the nearest fl T ine train sped along a coast line incomoarablp f^r mo::\" : f f,,^Jr>;°L''lf'> P^-T'^ heather, seemed' was wellawa. tt' i^ wTi^ t^South^r t^S 74 H Son ot lEtin and depression chiefly reigned, he was again agreeably surprised by the rich and prosperous appearance of the country. It was only a cursory view, however, and when he alighted at the little railway station nestling in a basin of the hills watered by the romantic Avonmore he saw some signs of decay and desolation which filled him with a strange feeling of depression. The few cars awaiting the arrival of the train were poor, shabby conveyances, drawn by sorry steeds and attended by very disreputable Jehus, who presently began to wrestle with each other for the privilege of his hire. When ; at last he made his choice and started on his way he saw that the enchanting loveli- ness of the scenery deluded his eye, and created a false impression of riches and prosperity. The little town through which they passed was dirty and ill-kept ; the houses untidy and in many cases in a tumble-down state ; the few shops scarcely worthy of the name. He found his driver either morose or Ignorant, since his questions elicited no reply but a grunt. This was dis- appointing, but only caused Rob to use his own eyes with greater vigilance. The roads were hilly, and his experienced eye quickly told him that the soil was poor and badly cultivated. No rich yellow breadths of har- vest fields gladdened the vision ; here and there a few odd acres were dotted with sparse sheaves, while the potato patches gave off a somewhat dank odour suggestive of disease. The sheep and cattle looked lean and ill-fed, and the donkeys about the roadsides nibbled the short grass as if it was their only luxury. But the enchanting loveliness of the scene remained, imprinting itself indelibly on the young man's mind. J xS liiey joltSQ uown one liili and up another a new panorama opened out before his astonished eyes — giant hills, heather-clad and pine-crowned, the early tints of autumn already making a wonderful diversity of colour ; while far below a brawling river filling the air With the music of a Highland glen. Fletcher did not know then that he beheld one of the fairest and most famed of Irish pictures, the sweet Vale of Avoca which witnesses the " Meeting of the Waters," which Moore has made immortal. The gruff and reticent driver gave him no informa- tion, nor did he after a few preliminary attempts make any effort to obtain it. It was sufficient to him to drink in the incomparable beauty of the scene, and to feeJ his heart throbbing with a strange sense of nearness and kinship, something more exquisite and yet more painful than anything he had yet experienced His acquaintance with the luxurious and well-kept residences of the Scottish Borders had prepared him to find in Killane a country seat somewhat similar As they drove on, however, though they passed many large houses, they bore the evidences of lack of prosperity. Few attained to the distinction of an entrance lodge, and in many cases the gateways, if not actually broken, were weather-beaten and poor, and the avenue which they were supposed to guard over- grown with moss and weeds. And in many a noble park the cut timber lay in loads on the ground, sure sign of the fallen fortunes of the occupier. By-and-by the driver, rattling down the hill at break-neck speed, took a sharp turn and dashed through a wooden gateway which was wide open though a small ivy-covered lodge stood beside it It was, however, untenanted, and Rob observed as th^^ passed by that the windows were boarded up and that the moss-eaten gate was off the hinges at one 76 a Son ot Brln sifle, and propped up by an iron beam driven into the ground. "Is this Killane?" he asked, in surprise, which had a tinge of disappointment in it. "Yes, sor, this be Killane," answered the Jehu, shortly. " That's the house among the trees." He saw its white gleam, and immediately they came within full view of it. It was built in the common style of the district, a large, square, unpicturesque buildmg with flat windows and a pillared door. Some ivy and a yellow-rose tree still rich in bloom lent a touch of kindliness to the bare walls, and the exterior of the house was carefully kept, the lawn smooth and green, the gravel sweep free from weeds. Some one took a pride in it, but the means were lacking. The story of the family fortunes was mutely proclaimed by these outward signs which did not escape Fletcher's vision. By the time he had leaped from the car the door was thrown open, and a middle-aged man-servant appeared. Rob eyed him keenly a moment, and even with a touch of anxiety. His position in the house might be more or less determined by the servants of whose ways he was totally ignorant of; but the broad smile and the entirely respectful manner of Denis Doolan, who had been Captain Byrne's body-servant in the far-off days of his active service, and was now the trusted family factotum, entirely reassured him. " Mr. Fletcher, sor > Captain Byrne told me to make his apologies as he had to go to Wexford on county business. Miss Aileen, sor, is in the house, and will see you at once." '•All right," said Rob, but his mind was hardly relieved. Captain Byrne's daughter was certainly a more formidable person than his servant. -« CHAPTER X NEW SURROUNDINGS LETCHER stepped across the threshold into a square hall, from the centre of which a stair ascended to a small gallery which ran round three sides of the hall, and gave It a smgularly quaint look. All the woodwork was of old oak, of that singularly rich grain only obtained m the growth of peaty soil ; no stain or varnish had desecrated it, but it shone as if it had come fresh from the polishers hand. The handrail was low and plain • indeed there wa • no carving anywhere, though some of the mouldings were exquisitively fashioned. Fletcher of course, had no idea of the artistic beauty and value of the surroundings to which he was now intro- duced, but he was quite conscious of ?» sense of harmony and fitness, which remained w!<;h h/ni all the time he was sheltered by the roofiree >f Klliane. It was an old family house, rich in little now save pathos and memories, but In its dec- dear beyond expression to hose who called it home. He stood a moment while Denis Doolan paid the driver of the car. and swung the modest luggage from its precarious position 77 78 H Son ot iBtin on one side, then a light foot made a faint sound on the bare boards of the gallery, and looking up Robert beheki the figure of a young lady wearing a very English dress.—a skirt of homespun and a cambric shirt, also a sailor hat with a black ribbon and a quill A great bunch of mysterious silver ornaments, such as Rob had never before seen, jingled from her belt, and he even noted as she came swiftly down the broad shallow steps that her foot was small and her ankle exquisitely turned. Her proximity disconcerted him and he awaited her coming awkwardly. Yet in a moment, by some mystic touch known only to herself she set him at his ease. * "Mr. Fletcher, of course," she said, extending a frank hand and showing two dazzling rows of teeth in a perfectly friendly smile. « We did not know quite when to expect you, or papa would have sent to meet you. He has gone to Wexford this afternoon, but will be home at six. When Denis has shown you to your room you can join me in the drawing-room, where I am having tea all by myself" She did not appear to notice his extreme nervous- ness, which assisted him mightily, but all the time he was making a hasty toilet the fear of the impending interview haunted him. In all his anticipations of the new life upon which he now entered such a person as Miss Aileen Byrne had never entered But she was a very real personage, one from whom he could not escape, and who would doubtless expect him to talk, perhaps to amuse her. Often Rob looked back upon that first hour. His natural courtesy and con- sideration forb-.de him to keep his master's daughter waiting. In less than ten minutes Denis, waiting? patiently with imperturbable good-humour at the "Wew SurrounWngs 79 drawing-room door, ushered him in. The room was large and low-roofed, the floor of dark polished wood with a lew warm rugs here and there. A small wood fire made a pleasant glow and also a musical crackhng at the further end, where the tea-table was spread near a corner window which commanded the whole matchless Vale of Avoca. Miss Byrne was behmd the tea-tray, and had laid her hat on the couch u ,'^uri't''* ^^^ '^^^ """"y P'^"^' ^'th the fresh, healthful beauty of one who lived a wholesome outdoor hte, and was free from many of the weaknesses of her sex. She had the rich, clear colour, and the half sad half merry grey eye of her country. Rob may be forgiven if he thought her at that moment the fairest vision his eyes had ever beheld. "Come and sit down," she said, smiling again and beckoning him to a seat near her. " Papa has told me a great deal about you. Of course, I was naturally interested to know what the new member of the household was like. You see, we are few now and dependent on each other. I hope whatever you' do you will try and study my father about his book He has been dreadfully worried over it. I hope you are interested in Ireland." "I think I am," answered Fletcher, when she looked at him directly waiting for his answer. "I cannot explain what I mean exactly, but I feel as if I had come home to-day after a long exile." Aileen looked at him attentively. His manner was so very simple and sincere, and his words themselves arrested her. " Yet you are Scotch, are you not > Papa told me you were," " I suppose I am, but no one knows. Ireland is a 8o a Son of Bcin beautiful country, Miss Byrne ; it is a pity she Is torn and racked by internal strife." She gave him a lightning glance, as if seeking to know what right he had to pass his verdict, and whether anything lay behind it. "Don't let us speak about Ireland yet," she said tTent 'U^l' '" ^°" '^^^ "^^^^ ^^- - ^olt, It an F • u T- '"°"^^- """^ y°" b^^" educated at an English public school ? " At this unexpected question, which showed Rob that Captain Byrne had told his daughter little or nothing regarding his new secretary's antecedents, he forgot himself so far as to Stare at her helplessly " No " he stammered at length. « I was educated in Scotland, at an ordinary Board school and— and privately." « I am glad to hear it. The specimens of English school and University youths I have seen have not imbued me with respect for the system. My father had one of my cousins as his secretary last season in London, and it was nearly the death of him " cu ^^' ^^^ twinkled as she dropped the sugar in the "He knew everything. 1 used to ask him whether tte had a commission to run the universe. Papa ousht e"::;^th!:g r™ '''^" '""■ ' ""^ ^- "^-•^ •'"- Her glance was arch as she shot this dart at him and her eyes danced again. ' thought' ^ ^"""^ "othing," he answered as quick as J/JJ' !T^ ^° u ^'^"'^"^ ^ '^°"'^ '^y papa had made mistake number two ; but I don't think he has. VVuat nc reaiiy wants,- she added, and here her face IRew SntroanCinos 8i became grave and even anxious, "is some one who w,ll be mterested in his woric and keep him at it Tha ,s what papa lacks-application, I mean. It is a fam.Iy~I had almost said a national-failing. But any- thing, anythmg to keep him out of politics. It is "oo much for h.m I saw him being killed by inches. You see he lays thmgs to heart. You will understand me Better when you have been here a little while" '• I quite understand you now," answered' Fletcher and the m.elligent sympathy expressed on his face Anefn r' ^^"%f "^^-'^n^ «nd hope to the heart of A leen Byrne. She was passionately attached to her hl^ 17. I "=°=^ ""'P='"'°n *e had been since she had left school The exciting and perilous times tad hold of Captam Byrne's warm, impulsive nature hil^r,"; °'^'' P«--"»n,entary life Aileen watched h.m gradually wearing out; the late hours and unwholesome atmosphere, but perhaps above all the perpen.a anguish of soul and shame because so many who professea to love Ireland were really traitors to of'the'l'f If ' ''°"'^ undermined the constitution WnH . ^ . , "^ ■".*"• " "'' * "-^''^f °f "0 ordinary k.nd o AUeen when he at length yielded to her ^^hLT"? Tk "''''"' '° =■• f^th" would spend the greater part of his time. So far sh^ vas more than dI»==_-< ■^■:"- t:-,.. . *' manner "ul '" " '-/-"cners appearance M.d manner. He was not only modest and unassuming. 6 83 H Son ot lEcfn fS5 IPI fr but seemed to be quick of comprehension, and would probably be able to adapt himself readily to the circumstances. She had not been ten minutes in the room with him before she came to the conclusion that whatever his antecedents he had not been accustomed to cultivated society. There was a bluntness in his manner, he sat awkwardly upon his chair, and handled his tea-cup as if unaccustomed to it ; but these things were of small account in the eyes of Aileen Byrne so long as the more important qualities were not lacking. " We are very proud of our country, Mr. Fletcher," she said, changing the subject to one of less personal moment. "I daresay you noticed its beauty as you came along." "Yes, I did. I have bee-n reading a good deal about Wicklow, of course, t* e I knew I was coming ; but I had no idea that the e ' nery was so fine. I am sure the view from these windows could not be sur- passed." " That is my opinion exactly," she answered, brightly. " I am always glad to come back to Killane. I love every stick and stone upon it ; but, like many others, the Byrnes have fallen on evil days. I am glad even for economical reasons that my father has given up Parliamentary life ; we really could not afford to live in London even as unpretentiously as we did. We shall have an opportunity of retrenching this winter. Papa told me that you were recommended to him by Mr. Bremner, the Member for Spitalhaugh," she said pre- sently when Rob made no answer. "I like him so much. I think he is a good man, and one to whom politics is something more than a mere game. I was to have visited them with my father at Easter, but I had to go to my cousin's in Oxfordshire. You know flew Surroun^tngs 83 Miss Bremner? I think she is charming. We met in London tvo years ago. 1 am hoping that she will pay me a visit here." To all this Rob listened without confusion, but in silence, not knowing what he was expected to say. ' was quite evident, however, that she knew noth. about his relations to the Bremners. The idea of talk^ ing to her under false pretences was intolerable to Rob, and, without taking into account the fact that perhaps Captain Byrne had reasons of his own for keeping his counsel concerning his new secretary, he bluntly told her the whole truth. "I know Miss Bremner, of course, though in a different way from what you imagine. She was my master's daughter." "Oh," said Aileen, uplifting her straight brows in some slight surprise, " I did not know Mr. Bremner kept a secretary ; I thought he was only an ordinary useful member— a business man first, and a politician after." " I was not- his secretary," said Rob, bluntly. " I was employed in his mill as a common working man." " Papa did not tell me that," said Aileen. « But after all what does it matter ? It makes no difference to me whether you worked in Mr. Bremner's study or in his mill. It is refreshing to meet with somebody who can work and is not ashamed of it. I assure you It will make no difference to me." "I must apologise for troubling you with the matter at all," said Fletcher, quietly ; " but I did not like the idea of being here under false pretences." " I understand perfectly. Pray let us say no more about It," said Aileen, with a bright, frank smile. « I rather think I hear wheels on the gravel. Here comes papa. ' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) i-r y^ ^ i '^W *; -y // (?^ A /flPPLIED^ IIV14GE . Inc ■^S , 1653 East Main Street -= *- Roctiester, NY 14609 USA -=g^= Phone: 716/482-0300 -= ^J~'~ Fax: 716/288-5989 © 1993, Applied Image, Inc , All Rights Reserved " "Yes, father. Did you get all your business satisfactorily accomplished .? " " In one trip, Aileen ! No such luck in this or any other country, I fear," he said, with a grimace. " My chief indictment against my fellow-creatures is that they shilly-shally, and won't get through with busi- ness. By Gad, sir, to-day you would have thought that we had an eternity before us instead of a week or two to decide a most important matter. It's just the same in Parliamentary life. That's why I couldn't Scttnna 2>own 85 .stand it any longer; it was getting the better of me at was ,„deed. Perhaps it is that I am getting old' and have less patience than I once had; but I have never been a patient man even on active service Denis Doolan is the man that can tell you that " The nim"'^"J^''?/ ^""''^ ^'"^*^ ^' ^^ mentioned the name of his old servant, who had been with him through so many campaigns both in war and peace times. Ihere was something sunny and winning about the old captain, and he also possessed his daughter's rare gift of putting all who came within his reach entirely at their ease ; but though Fletcher felt more at home in the drawing-room of Killane than he could have believed possible, he had not a flow of small talk at his disposal and could think of nothing to say. The captaTn. however, did not misunderstand or dislike his silence perhaps because he had so much to say on all topics himsel He did not like too much talk from others especially from the young and inexperienced. While Fletcher was inwardly calling himself stupid for his ack of speech, the old man was heartily approving him for that very quality. ^ m^^'u> ^"i? u^"""" ^**^ y°" ^^^^^ °"r friends at bv InTh A^^T ^' '^'" ^^"^ ^ ^'^'^ fr°"^ them and ±^r , r"^ ^'°^ ^'' '^''' ^"^ ^^^^^ y°"r father and mother .? I repeat what I said to you the last time we met--you can never be too thankful that you .rr^^^ . /"'^ ^ '^""'^ ' everything depends on the possible to rise superior to it." '• i left them all well, sir." answered Rob. Then he added, bluntly. " I only wish I did belong to that 86 a Son ot ]6rin " Perhaps it will be just as well not to inquire too closely into it," said the old man, shrewdly. " Did I tell you that Mr. Fletcher had quite a romantic history, Aileen — that he was a foundling, and does not know anything about his ancestors ? A good thing for some of us," he added, comically, " if we knew less. Well, shall we go to the study now ? Since I took it into my head to become a literary man," he added, facetiously, " I have fitted up a den at the top of the house where you and I can work undisturbed. Perhaps you'd like to see it .? " "Yes, I should," said Fletcher, with alacrity, glad to be released, he qould not tell why, from the keen, bright glance of Aileen's eyes. He wished with all his heart as he followed the old captain upstairs that there had been no daughter of the house. He had a natural shyness of women. Mary Fletcher had often been amused at the shy way he would steal out of the house when she had any feminine visitors. The pros- pect of seeing Miss Byrne every day, and having to reply to her quick, bright speech, rather appalled him. With the old captain he felt there would be no diffi- culty whatever. He was genial and lovable, and only required a little study to make him the pleasantest and most indulgent of masters. Robert was accus- tomed to elderly people, and it came easy to him to be considerate with them, and he had no doubt in his own mind as he followed him into the pleasant study, which the captain with a great deal of pride and fun had set in order for the great work to be done there, that there his happiest hours would be spent. In this conclusion he only proved his ignorance and in- experience — a shy young man of three-and-twenty has everything to learn. The room was sparsely fur- Settling Dovipn «, nished, and, though called by courtesy a study was marked by the absence of books, although some rough shelves had been hastily run up against the wall. "There's a library downstairs, Fletcher," said the captam, in explanation. "I thought perhaps you and I might amuse ourselves in our off-times by bring- ing the books up. My daughter wouldn't mind having the library for a little snuggery of her own ; but if we haven t much to look at inside, we can always take our fill from the windows. Look there I " From the front windows could be seen the same view which enchanted the eye from the drawing-room below ; from the back it was scarcely less beautifu'— the Wicklow Hills in the blue distance, with the mysterious glory of the sunset upon them, made a picture never to be forgotten. *• I had no idea that the sceneiy c; Ireland was so fine, Fletcher observed. "Had you not? Ay, my lad, there's nothing the matter with the country ; it's the people that are in it that will never rest until they destroy it." His face became shadowed, and the red flush of indignation which never failed to rise to his cheek when his country s wrongs were under discussion, warned Rob that they were touching upon a dangerous theme. You would, no doubt, observe as you came by that our country seats do not look quite so prosperous as they do m Scotland," said the old man. with a touch of bitterness. « Some of them are starting to the timber ; but, please God, the old trees of Killane will stand all my time. I'd rather go without many a meal than see one of them felled to the ground. I have only one child to provide for, and she is of the same mind with me." 8S a Son of jErfn H M i "Have you a large estate here?" asked Fletcher with interest. "About two thousand acres. I had another place in Connemara— nothing but a bog and some hungry hills. I sold it when I entered Parliament because I wanted the money, but in selling that I did no wrong to anybody, because it was not family ground, but was left to me by a distant connection." "And is Killane cut up into small holdings?" asked Fletcher, still further encouraged by the frank replies to his questions. *• Yes ; I believe I have between twenty and thirty tenants. It's a poor business, I can assure you, but I try to make the best of it. But there, we needn't go into these particulars now ; you will have plenty of time yet to get acquainted with the whole past and present history of Killane." The kindJy welcome given to the young man that day was but the earnest of his future position in the house. It astonished no one more than himself that he became so quickly at ease and at home amid sur- roundmgs so very different from anything to which he had been accustomed. While this was no doubt chiefly due to the delightful manners of the inmates of the house, his own singular adaptiveness did the rest. He was very quiet and unobtrusive, not only doing his utmost to help the captain in his study, but also seeking to make himself helpful and serviceable in a great number of unobtrusive ways. He was the captain's constant companion indoors and out Aileen watched the gradual growth of affection be- tween them with somewhat mixed feelings. While her clear eyes were quick to discern that certainly Robert Fletcher was the right man in the right place Settling Down gg '!ZZ """' , ^ '''^^' ^""^'"^ °^ J^^'°"^y because she was no longer so necessary to her father ; perhaps also there was just a slight, scarcely-acknowledged .nchnation to hold aloof from one whose social position was so much below her own. She fought against this, and was mdeed rather surprised to find that she wM.l!° T\T"f ''"'^"'^ ^''^ ''''^ «°^'^^ prejudice which she had always affected to despise. This attitude made her quick to observe and criticise certain little breaches of good-breeding which in the very nature of things Fletcher was bound to commit A man who has been reared by a cottage fireside,* and been a unit among toiling hundreds in a great in- dustrial concern, cannot be expected to have all the usages of polite society at his fingers' ends. Of his mistakes, however, Fletcher was entirely unconscious He was a strong man in that respect, and his mind was too much engrossed by graver and more important matters to bestow much thought on the trifling amenities of everyday life. Then, though never failing m his respectful manner towards the daughter of his employer, he betrayed not the smallest interest in her nor did he ever voluntarily seek her presence or speak to her except when she addressed him. This was no part of a settled plan, but rather the natural outcome of a shy and retiring disposition, which, moreover, had a singular lack of interest in the opposite sex. Xfter the first feeling of awkwardness, which indeed had not vfrtUr*"",-''''! ^'^T^y °^er her proximity, Fletcher virtually dismissed his master's daughter from his mind, and scarcely thought of her unless when her presence compelled it. Now Aileen, a singularly handsome and attractive girl, who had never suffered through any lack of $0 a Son of j6rin admirers, secretly resented this attitude onthe part of her fathers secretary, although it is certain that she would have resented yet more fiercely any presumption on ills part. She was a very sensible girl, yet by no means above the natural vanities usually attributed 1°. kTu .^^^''*'^' ^°"^^ ^^^« b<^«" profoundly astonished had he known what an object of interest he was to Miss Byrne ; and that she watched him keenly yet so unobtrusively that he had no idea of it She noted that as the days went by the habit and tone of his former life gradually disappeared as he responded to the altered conditions under which he now dwelt Remembering the appeal Miss Byrne had made to him during their first interview, the frank confidence of which, however, was never repeated, Fletcher did his best to make the captain observe some regular mode of life, especially as regards the book for whose produc tion he held himself in a manner responsible. Every morning after breakfast they retired to the study, and on most days Rob managed to keep him there until lunch time, the afternoons being spent out of doors. Fletcher found that the old man had an enormous and unwieldy mass of material at his command, much of It interesting and of considerable value, yet requirinff a discriminating hand in its arrangement. He quickly saw that this would depend entirely upon him, since the captain had no more idea of it than a child. But It was a work such as Fletcher loved ; his close study of many hundreds of books had given him a fair idea as to their construction, and he was very happy in his work during the first few peaceful weeks of his life at Killane, until the beginning of the troublous times which were to agitate them all. One afternoon, as he and the captain came across 1. '^.. SettKito ©own 5, the park from paying a visit to one of the outlvine portions of the estate, they sa>v t»o saddleS sta^^ng at the door under the supervision of DeS ,y. y^f° ' 7™'°«." said the captain. " I recosnise hat miyas belonging to Tom Lyndon of Banymore I haven t seen Tom for ever so long, but I hear tha; hes been rather busy." The speaker's face cLded shghtly and Fletcher observed that his mouthto^k a rfrway ' ■. Ballv^' ''?"""' "' '^'^ "PProached the .r^I thinP^-LZelr'tLr ^^Tha?e ^erirotr^e.ai^-rd^-l re" oft" vL-fb V'"=^ ''" °" ^^" '™- ^^^ rest 01 us. You d better come up to the drawine-room and see the young men. Tom is the elder, bu K my favourite ; evidently they're both here." ^ ^^•-•*'" - CHAPTER XII A NOTE OF DISCORD I.ETCHER hesitated a moment— it was his nature to shrink from strangers, and he seldom entered the drawing-room when son,. • i"""^" "*■'* P''^'^"' ' ''"t °" 'his occasion prompted h.m to accept the captain's invitation When they entered the drawing-room they found Adeen entertaining her guests, and that they were vejy happy was evidenced by the merry laughter wh,ch rang through the room. She was seTted af the tea-table precisely as Fletcher had seen her on the first mght of his arrival at Killane. A young man of face stood close by her, evidently saying son.ethine which pleased her, for her eyes were sparkling hef cheeks flushed, and her whole appearance betSyfng nte^st and animation. The younger man, who waf n fact only a lad of seventeen, sat on the corner of the couch h.s bright, happy face wearing a mer^ sm,le while he listened to the gay badinage beS his brother and Miss Byrne. "^'ween ■• Hello, you young renegades," called out the cap- s' a Wote of Bt0coc5 93 tain, gaily. « where have you been all these weeks ? T was only say no- to Ail^^r. ^ «•» mese weeks ? I now y?; speak of it' 'h ''^"/T"'"'"^ "^ ""= -'• very well." How ,s Lady Lyndon ? I hope " Yes ; she intended to come with us to rf»„ i, . prevented at the last moment by a ca°,l '^^'f "'"'' person than your neighbour at Avondale ' saW " Lyndon, significantly " T , ' '^""""aie, said young Since hi; re'turS Amerrf"" ""' ""^^ ^^^" "- pu2dCf "..DovoV"''" "'" '"^ ""'="" -■"■ =« back and th»f h. ^ T "^*" '° "^^ ">" he has come look;, a? us?" '"'" '° Glendalough and never "That must be so," said Lyndon « beca i ^^re'^'ierB:;-™-"' -^ --^ "- -' '- I beg your pardon. Fletcher'' v.^ o -j make amends "Th.-o • .f ' "® ^^'^' ^"'^k to -•sting t\iJ':;Zu''Z^r,:^''j' ''r^ twinkle in his eve « M oT' '^''^' ^^'^ ^ Lyndon, ..r. xlere Lyndt"" ^'"''' P'^^'-^— Mr. Fl«cher made a distinct and rather awkward bow, 94 U Son of Cdn which Lyndon merely acknowledged by a somewhat careless nod. At that moment a strange antagonism towards each other seemed to find birth in the hearts of these two young men, an antagonism which never faltered, but gained strength as their acquaintance deepened and the tragedy of their lives unfolded. Tom Lyndon had the reputation of being a very freehanded, happy-go-lucky youth ; but with him pride of birth was carried to an almost inconceivable height. His look and manner conveyed the distinct impression that he regarded Fletcher merely as a servant in the house of Killane. and even resented his appearance in the drawing-room. Now, though the same thought in a mitigated form had more than once passed through Aileen Byrne's own mind, her innate courtesy and womanliness made her quick to see the studied rudeness of Lyndon's manner, and her face flushed in quick resentment. She turned therefore, to Fletcher with a smile such as she had not bestowed on him for many a day *' I hope you had a pleasant walk to Slieve Beg • and how did you find the Wheelans > They have never been out of hot water within the memory of man." ^ "They certainly seemed in considerable distress to-day Miss Byrne," answered Fletcher, relieved to be able to turn away from the proud and insolent Master of Ballymore. Then his eye fell upon the good- natured face of Terry, who had resumed his seat on the couch. He was struck by its expression, which tTiou ht ""''^ '^"'''^'''^^ ^""^ ^^* *""" °^ perplexed " I tell you what I think. Aileen," he said, confi- dentially as Lyndon and the captain withdrew to the a Mote of H>(8cor6 ,5 I"rrtaY ^/"ttV™'"'"^ *f "'"""' ^e unlooked-for arrival of the Squire of Avondale. "It's my firm opinion that we're all going ,o the dogs, and th" sooner the better I wanted to come over and ee ^^ • '"""=■' ^°'"^ - '^ -f"' "appeningl "What, Terry ? " asked Aileen, bending her bonnie affection on her face. She had no brothers of her own en one'" ^f f TT"' ""'"^ ^>'"''- " '^ ""^ "Td southing la^o:.'""""^ '""'"'' ''°" -^ "'^" '-" Terry glanced up rather doubtfully at Fletcher who, observing the look and feeling himself lelZ' rt^edtm: "'^"'^ •° '-- *^ '-"• "- aS "You needn't go, Mr. Fletcher. Teriy, I assure Sch''" *J".''='™ * sympathetic listed r in T Fletcher, and he is entirely at one with us. Wh^fs going to happen at Ballymore now > " J °i' r\ ^^ }"'"' ''°"' frightfully hard up we and T "f^'' "°*" »"<» Tom talking^his morning and I really believe they've got their minds made up that ome of the people have got to leave Thev noTMnl "t:",-'"^ ""' '^. ^^" - '°"S' -^ we've S nothing to live on. There's something to be said rem Tom's point of view, of course; but-but there I can't bear it. I can't indeed." ' h„„^!''^•''^'^'''' ="PP'-«=«^d feeling almost burst its bonds, his face coloured, and his eyes became sus piciously moist. Aileen stretched out her ha^d and «on'off t '"' *r ^"^ - ■•""-« expression of tenderness on her face. " Never mind, Terry. Don't worry about it, it'll 96 B Son ot jCriu \r- I all come right. I don't believe for a minute that Lady Lyndon or Tom either will ever evict anybody from Ballymore. Why, there never has been such a thing in Glendalough, or in the whole of Wicklow The times are hard with us. we know, but we'll never let them come to that pass." Terry shook his head, scarcely reassured. « I suppose the people have been for a long time on the estate ? " said Fletcher inquiringly, and his expres- sion was one of such deep and sympathetic interest that Terry turned to him almost with relief. Aileen was sweetly sympathetic always, but then, she was only a woman, and could not enter into all his feelings nor perhaps understand how he chafed against a condition of things which, as the younger brother totally depen- dent on the elder, he had no means of bettering. " Yes, they've been always there, never anywhere else ; they ve more right there than we have to Bally- more. The Rooneys, Aileen, they've been in Arragh- yanna for hundreds of years. I know Tom has them in his eye. He doesn't like Ted Rooney ; he's too mdependent, Tom says, and he's going to give him his marching orders." " But he has a bedridden mother, Terry," said Aileen m a shocked voice. « Lady Lyndon will never permit it'' As she spoke she glanced apprehensively at Tom Lyndon, who was discussing something animatedly with her father. From the expression on the latter's face she easily gathered that he was far from beine pleased. ^ " Mother will do anything to please Tom, Aileen Besides, she wants to go to Dublin for the season." The inference was obvious. Aileen sighed. At that moment the two at the further window came S note Of Discord ■ndicating some strong feel* '"' "''«'' "^^ A-shed, ojd* m:„^"^h:?i:a,t^°"£ir„ 'r,'' '° ■■'■" ^^'^ "^^ I'ke to see the black eviction „ 7 f"' ^°" »'°"'''n't Baliymore." "°" "'°''' ^^gun so near as ve;tefrCeSr.ert:iT-' ''-^'^ "^- Lyndo'^^dl^htghT: "-fT- ^«e-. said A-leen's attractive face ■^L^.""'^ "' '" '"'^d on rid of tlie Rooneys. Thev-re. K ? ,''^'"'"'''«d to be to heaven know^ hoj^ sttet Soc'";''' "^'""^^ a dangerous man to liav^ =.L . [ Societies. He's I believe, in Glendalougl™ ' *' P'''^^' '"^ "orst »id SeVtrraX'^r*''^ """ '^"^^ "« -v- he had made a mTstake ^' / '"""^diately sa^ that eye on him, which said as pla"^?v »"'"''/ ^"P^™"°"^ done that his remark was unS f ""^^ ~"'d have Captain Byrne saw L Lsole ' ^ ^u- '"" '"'P"«nent. a natural chivalry hastei^ ^ ' """^ '°°^' ^^d with "By Gad! he t^SS T"'"''^''^''*'''''- Ted Rooney was as fi"f a lad".? . '!""""'" "^en crushed out of him bv th. t f^^' ^h^ heart's life." " ">' ""« hopeless conditions of his Did^"'m'akT.h:' Ud'ir '" '^'' ^^P'«'" %™- disease...' asked Lyn'don.:urn;y.°' ^^"^ ''' "<"- No; but you exact your "due to the uttermost the bad times '"•*'• - - when Tom, and I've ^1 , ""ics vvitn our ne a'ways tried to do it. How lon*^ with our people, IS It 98 a Son of JErtn III. ii II If f since I've had any rent from the Muldoon or the Wheelans or the M'Arthys, Aileen ? " " A long time, father," answered Aileen ; « but people can't pay when they have no money in their pockets." "D'ye hear that, Tom? and Aileen hasn't had a new frock for twelve months and more. We can't go to London, because we've no money. That's how we share the bad times with our own folk." " And what do you get for it .? " asked Lyndon, with a sneer. « I could bet my hat they deny themselves nothing. All I know is, that Ted Rooney has always money to go to iDublin to attend those meetings and demonstrations which are the ruin of the country, and ought to have been put a stop to long ago by the police. ^ He spends most of his time at home in Micky Malone's, airing his imaginary wrongs, and putting more of Micky's execrable whisky into him than he can afford to pay for." "I am sorry to hear that," said the captain. "Now. I always thought that the Rooneys were a very sober, well-doing family. You know, Tom, con- tinuous misfortunes take the heart clean out of a man. Any of us can stand an occasional blow, and brace ourselves for it, as it were, but continual dropping wears away stone." "I quite agree with you," said Lyndon, quick to apply the truism to his own particular point of view, "and Rooney has worn out my patience. I am determined to get rid of him and of a few like-minded with him without delay." " And what do you expect to gain by it ? " asked the captain, quickly. "No tenants will hardly pay you any better than bad ones," a Wote of 'Biscovt> 99 I have never ceased to \lL -T . "^ "'^*' "hich ■ since ever I was o, a^' to " T° °''' ^"^""^ -=«^= these s„,all holdings ^re. he ^''''""'/'"■"^^- '"^ '"-' as the crofter system is of th. r"''m °^ ''"'""<'• J"'' If we conducted o"/ es°at« and ^'^°' ^~"^"''- E^nglish plan we'd be a sfeht hi T^ '^'^' *« of disaffection and distresf" ""^^ """ ^"'' '«« captat! hX' "YoSr "' 1°"""^"'" -'--^ '"e means of subsistence" " " *"" »" "^ "'"*out "if°h'^ytdXrrof:r ''.^■■'' ^^"<-- ^-%. encein their whorco 'oT'''u°' "'' '■''''P^"<^- would have emigratdToTr" '"^ '"'' °^ *- Tom r-eX.^d'^t^^ 'h":^ ^^ r-^' - -'.-te. had held his tongue o2 bv tit, ° "" ""'^ ''"'^ restraint upon bfmJt^^^Tl"^.!' great deal of horrible the way you talk rl "' '"'*«'' ""d -eh right to Ballymori\s we'hrv?'' Tu' ^"'^ '^ ■s nght, and I am sure thatTf tl ^^ "?'=''" you are talking about aj dgme„r:i,rfS[ ""' ""'" I am sure I hope it will " ' "P°" y""' obZ:d tLtrcot; '^'°".:ir ^ f °-- ^-''' ■■ heartedness is centred .V,' ''* Lyndon soft- t° the ignominious :nVl ^::dicrfor"'"™ ^°" ""^ say of you— 'He was nol,t,/. ' y°"' ■"«■> will " Better that thTn to \ ^' """""^ •>"' •"'^ °«n. ■ " execration as yours wiM be'Tf '"'' "'"■' ''^''' "P *° at Ballymore/ said Ter„' ^?? '^"''■^ °"' ^""'on^ Terry concerted by his brothe^rrca.^;!^ j J.° ^^^ dis- ni Nl loo a Son ot JBtin "Well, well, it seems I have pulled a hornet's nest about my ears," said Lyndon, good-humouredly, « so we will change the subject, if you please. I had almost forgotten my mother's message, Aileen, which was to ask when you were coming over to Ballymore. Can you fix a day now. so that she may have the pleasure of expecting you ' " " I can come any day," answered Aileen, " but I shall take no pleasure in the thought if I am to hear any more talk like what we have had to-day." "Come over," whispered Lyndon, as he bent over her hand at parting, "and I shall perhaps be able to convmce you ithat I am not such an unreasonable and unrighteous tyrant as you think. You know that there is nothing in the world I am more anxious about than to stand well in your esteem." CHAPTER XIII THEIR HERO spun, and a slouch hat H" " '""^^ ^°'"^- There was noth-ng in hfs 217'.°^" "''^ ''™-- or position, yet thfre wa a certa ! '? "'^ °"^" •n his carriage and « m . • ""' °^ distinction c'ear-cut, n-ehichot face'^wMr '""■" '" "'^ ?»'«- by all who came in "^ontacttfth T '"=""*"--'y ^It appt^The'^t^tr/nd*^ '"" ''°-"- "■•»■ faint smile curved for! ' T ' '""e"'"^'"? them, a ■nouth. He p^Ted just a '"' '"' ^''^'- "'°''"e shadow of a giant oafc'trie. -TT' '" ""^ ''"^-dly should get ou^t of sight :^L:f:h"^ '""■°'" "«" *«y "as no reason why he should t"^"'"^ '■'"'■ There he ha. alrMW.. Z~^- "It t*"" '° »™'''' 'hem. sinr. their own p;o^^:;"«'f*em in the grounds ^f J- perty. but a certam secrecy of motive tox I02 H Son of iBtin H \ll^ If and action was habitual to him, and was exercised even in the most trivial affairs of life. This habit had invested him with a certain mystery which made perhaps the secret and indescribable fascination of his personality. The man who babbles his thoughts and intentions to the whole world will never command the respect and interest bestowed on one who firmly keeps his counsel. For we are all curious by nature, and the man or woman who provokes our curiosity without satisfying it must always figure as an important personage in our imagination. The little party had not broken up in the drawing- room, but were still discussing the affairs of Ballymore when the new visitor was announced. Fletcher gave an involuntary start as the familiar name, announced in Denis Doolan's most in.portant voice, fell upon his ears. " Ah, how are you, Mr. Parnell > " said the captain, bustling forward in evident excitement. '-'We have just heard of you a few minutes ago from the Lyndon boys, who assured me that they had left you at Bally- more, otherwise I could not have believed it possible that you had returned." "Yes; I came back yesterday," answered Mr, Parnell, with his slow, inscrutable smile, which deepened into one of genuine pleasure as he greeted Aileen with a touch of almost brotherly affection. " I need not ask how you are," he said, as he warmly pressed her hand. "The troublous winds of adversity make no impression on these fair cheeks. I must apologise for showing myself at Ballymore first," he said then, turning with an easy grace to the captain ; " but the truth was I had a message from a kinswoman of Lady Lyndon whom I had the pleasure of meeting in V I Ubciv Dcro ,03 Boston, and I thought I had better ddiver it at once before other matters engrossed my attention. Well and what do you mean by playing such a trick on me in my absence ? " he asked, looking straight at the captam with assumed asperity. "It was my only chance," said the captain, laughing heartily ; " but you needn't say a word to me. There sits the culprit," he said, pointing to Aileen She has never liked London, and she was pleased to say that the late hours were killing me. The real truth is that we were both homesick for Killane; but there, let me introduce my secretary Mr. Robert Fletcher, who has kindly co'iisented To bury himself in the Wicklow wilds to help me to finish the work of the century." Parnell turned round and faced Fletcher, giving him at the same time a keen, incisive glance from his mysterious, inscrutable eyes, then, with a winning grace of manner and charm of expression, he extended his hand and expressed his pleasure at the meeting. The difference between this greeting and the one accorded to him by the young Squire of Ballymore was so marked that it was in the minds of all present. TTifu n^^""^ *^^^" ^ ^^^^y responsibility, Mr. Fletcher, he said, with a somewhat quizzical glance at the captain ; " but 1 am so much disappointed and concerned over his retirement fr. . the active duties of the House of Commons that I am afraid I cannot take he interest I ought in the ' work of the century'" Now. Mr. Parnell," said Aileen, in her most sprightly manner, "that is too bad of you, after the trouble I took to concoct that long and eloquent letter p'^br "it n^'""^ ^ '^' ^°'^^ ^" °"^ '^*'°"^ f°^ quitting H X04 a Son ot Erin ■ . "Our reasons," repeated the captain, with a slight laugh ; •' observe that it was a company concern. Faith, and I believe you might do worse than get a few lady members like Aileen." "Oh, it's coming, I don't doubt," said Parnell, entering for the moment into the jest. " We are within approachable distance of the twentieth century, in which our women folk, they say, are to have their full innings; but I shall not live to see it. The next decade will be the end of a good many of us." "But surely things are looking brighter," said Aileen, eagerly, "and your mission to America has been crowned with success ? " " So far as money is concerned, yes, we have done well," he answered, readily ; «• but it's a weary business, and I have often longed for the solitude of Avondale. Nothing on earth will move me without its gates for the next two months at least." " I hardly think you will be allowed such a long respite," said the captain, drily. "You have been too much missed for that. Did Lady Lyndon say anything to you about Tom's intention to evict at Ballymore > " "No, she did not," said Parnell, in surprise. 'What's the matter there? I always thought they were fairly comfortable." " They might be if they had not such big ideas," said the captain, quickly. ♦' Lady Lyndon will have her season in Dublin, and in London, too, and Tom is not a whit behind her in extravagance. These times will not permit it, as you know; but they do not feel inclined to share the hard times with their people, which, I maintain, is every Irish landlord's duty at present." UMt tKto MS .Jut" *f= "f y™"- mind, captain, the Irish question would be solved," said Parnell. "Can I speak to you elsewhere for a few minutes ? " tojlthtr!""'^' "'■'*'"'^'" *"^ 'h^y left the room "What do you think of Mr. Parnell?" asked w,th"";il h """",?' *' ""^ **^ <='°'«<'' «"d turning he h!7' «• ! "'*% "'" '™'*'"e """" the insult he had suffered at Lyndon's hands. She was very sens,„ve where the feelings of others were concerned wimngy' ""^ ^ * gentlewoman ever to hurt them "I have hardly yet recovered from my surprise at meeting h.m face to face," answered Fletcher; almost confusedly, for truth to tell the meeting had mar a great impression on him. knlw h!r"'^ "'\!^'^" ■""=' '■^^ '°'d yo" 'hat we knew hiin very well, Avondale being so near." Yes he has mentioned it. But 1 suppose I did not^reahse .t until to-day. He is a ..-an of immense intlrl''t'' " v°"' °'"'"'.°''' '' '■*'" '^'^"^ Aileen,with TT\ ■ °" "" ''''"* "S"" ' '»" he is also one of hardrt™'" n "^ f* '°™'"" °' ""'"■ ^hat, I think, is nardly so well understood." " No ; I have always heard him spoken of as auite unapproac able," said P^etcher ; 'Zt I confLs'th Ha ru'"" '° *°-^^y- I ^a" "ever forget the kindliness of his greeting to me." "Coming, as it did. after the other greeting" she said, with a quick flush. "But you must not thfnk any more about that, Mr. Fletcher Mr. Lyndon has had an English education, which I cannot help thi'nkS xe6 a Son Of lEvln if ! t is a frightful mistake. English prejudice and mis- understanding are what we have to contend against in our own country ; that is what makes it so difficult for us to get justice. When you have seen a little more of Mr. Parnell, as you are certain to do here — because he is so much at home with us — you will quickly discover that one of his outstanding characteristics is his intense, deep-rooted, and dominant hatred of the English." " Perhaps not without cause," observed Fletcher, his mind reverting to the horrors of the rebellion, of which he had so often read. " The traditions of his house have done everything to foster that hatretl. Of course you know that Wicklow was the scene of some of the worst atrocities of 1798, and some of the old servants who were alive in Mr. Parnell's boyhood have told him some of the dreadful stories of that time. He has never forgotten them, and I am sure they have coloured all his public as well as his private life." " But he is held in respect by all parties in London. I have heard Mr. Bremner say so," said Fletcher, with the most intense interest. " Yes ; because he is a gentleman, and a born leader of men. We have many good men and true among our own members ; but perhaps they do not always command respect." Fletcher smiled slightly, thinking of some of the scenes he had read of in the daily press ; but in a moment the smile passed to a graver look. "They are desperate men, I verily believe. Will you tell me, Miss Byrne, how far it is from here to Glondalough." *' To Glendalough > Why, of course, it is seven miles. I feel quite guilty to think you have been trbefr fwro ,o, already six weeks here and have not yet visited the shrine of St. Kevin. We must arranrr/ ,„ T at an early day." ^ *° "^"^ °^" She rose as she spoke, and said she must inquire whether the.r guest would not remain to dinneT Fletcher, strangely ir-presscd, and unable to banish is* mtd ''?"'"' 'r °' '"^ ^^«'" statesman from h.s mmd went out of the house, and strolled across the park to the edge of the fields, from which he could just catch a glimpse of Avondale. it was a hou e s.m,lar m appearance to KiUane, although built upon a ri^Kp'^'- '* ^"^^ ^°^'^"- « neglected Took shabby bhnds adorned the windows, and fhere we e no llTnl^Tr'""'"''' °' " "°'"-'^ presence and care. He had often seen the house before, but now ." seemed mvested by a peculiar interest, and as he meUn^H V°'""?' ""•" '■"■^'"■"S "'""e in the sombre n^elancholy house, it almost seemed as if he obtained a clue to h,s nature. He leaned his arm on the looselv bu.lt stone dyke, which was the only bounda,y between" the two estates, and he was so engrossed by hU thoughts that he was quite unconscious If an approach ng footstep, which, however, gave forth no sound on the soft, green turf. At length, however, he became mwardly conscious of the proximity of a human beir and turnmg quickly, he saw the object of hrthought^' withm a few yards of him. His face slightly reddened and, raismg h,^ hat respectfully, he was^b^ulto "Is" on. when Mr^Parnell stopped directly in front of hfm holding him by that strange, intense, inscrutable T^ which was one of the sourr^ J t.:, ^ men sources of his power over " So you have come to assist my old friend in hU hterao. venture," he said, with an oJd smile "We't io8 B Son of £rii you might vety well be less pleaantly employed. May I ask where ybQ hail from?" "I came from ScotI ind, sir," answered Fletcher without a moment's hesitation, yielding to the personal influence which this strange man never failed to exercise over those with whom he spoke face to face. " You are happy in your birthright," he observed, shortly. " I daresay you have been long enough here to feel cause for gratitude that you are not Irish born." Fletcher hesitated a moment, moved by a strange impulse to offer a full con'^dence, and yet not certain now it would be received. " You look as if you were capable of some independent th. ^ht, observed Pai*nell, still keeping his eyes keenly on the yc.ng man's changing face. " I will give you a piece of advice. Whatever your sympathies or inclmations. keep them well in hand. For the time being this is your adopted country, in which you ought IVt) "'"""^ '"^'^''^''* ^° ^°" ^^'''"^ *° ^ P"""*^^^' "No, sir ; I was reared a working man among working men. Since you are good enough to express a kmdly interest in me, I may tell you that I do not know in which couniry my actual birthright is to be found. So far as sympathy— I had almost said love —IS concerned, I think I might very well be Irish born." Parnell leaned his arm on the stone wall, and regarded him with a singularly earnest and impressive "You are young, ai.. i-Jess youth has some enthusiasm, where is it ic ' e *•< und ? You remind me of some one I have s;e ^ I spoke o5 . to Captain Byrne, but he could not help me. He is much pleased 109 at all. It must be by my own exertions." ' ine ■,( ,t statesman elevated his sira.Vhf k m some slight amusement. ^^' '"■°"'' ion;"Lftt JoX^i^s ch^^oTr •' B„r, r ^ now. ;„ What particular direction 1rJ;l':t™: "OnlvT f",'"^ *"" " '■""• "'°"^^" FleK^her answered taste the sweetsTf powt" "" ' '"""^ *'*>' ' ^'>='» pa:trrhe"ra- edr::;} ji:: Lr-^'-- -•« ihatitrv" "^^ ^^- ^ ~ic?ro::- help you at any time I shall be glad to do so w" remaps we shall meet a^ain r^ j evening." again. Good So saying he leaped the low wall anrf rr^c ^ .u w^r ^e^i tnrth!°rf '^^"^-"- Fletcher s.2^ J "by'^r^'^ff^ °" '"e ground. out or sight, then siL^i;: :z:^i^^^^ 11 1; * CHAPTER XIV THE HEART OF THINGS HE following week Captain Byrne and his daughter went for a brief visit to Dublin, and Fletcher was left, not without some work it is true, but still with considerable leisure on his hands. One fine October afternoon, immediately after his early dinner, he set out on foot to Glendalough. During the days that had passed since the visit of the Lyndons to Killane, Fletcher had found himself dwelling much in thought upon the affairs of Ballymore, and the desire to behold the place grew upon him until it would no longer be set aside. He was a very good pedestrian, and accomplished the distance in the shortest possible time. A more delightful walk could scarcely be imagined ; the day was one of the loveliest of the late autumn, the glory of the heather was not altogether dimmed, and the trees of that richly-wooded county wore all their gorgeous October dress, the dogberries blazed rich and red on every wayside bank, the blackberries hung in purple richness in every hedgerow, and there was that Indescribable and exquisite stillness in the air peculiar to the Indian summer, when it no tlbe Deart of UbinQB m seems as if nature were waiting, breathless, for the first blast of the coming winter. The longer Fletcher reuiained in Ireland the more his heart seemed knit to it. It was not the mere sympathetic interest of one susceptible to inspiring natural scenery and to the welfare of a sister country, but rather the inward and passionate devotion of a patriot. There was now no doubt in Fletcher's mind but that he was Irish born. Often he gazed at the little amulet which his adopted mother had given him the night before he left Spitalhaugh. The sight of the green shamrock enamelled upon its golden surface seemed to place the matter beyond a doubt. Such a trinket he had never seen in Scotland, and one day he had observed, with much inward tumult, a little heart of precisely the same shape and design attached to a bracelet worn by Miss Byrne on her left arm; but he never breathed his own imaginings to a living soul— they belonged to the secret and inner recesses of his being, to be revealed, perhaps, when fulness of time should justify it. He met very few pedestrians on the way, because after making sure of his direction he cut into a by-path across the fields, and so reduced the distance by more than a mile. He had often heard of the beauty of Glendalough, yet it came upon him with something of surprise, the gleaming waters of the lake nestling in the basin of the hills reflecting the clear, vivid blue of the sky, surrounded by its seven mysterious churches sacred to the shrine of the saint. He had no idea in which direction to turn for Bally- more, but held on his way to the hamlet, where doubtless, they could give him every information. In these earlier days the hotel accommodation of Glenda- I' i 112 ill m<' U l|i| m a Son ot iBvin lough was not on so pretentious a scale as now. Fletcher entered a modest, old-fashioned hostelry at the mouth of the glen, and, finding a very pleasant- spoken girl at the bar, asked the way to Ballymore. She came courteously to the door, and pointed him in a direction which would lead him out of the glen. "That is Ballymore, sor," she said, fixing her bright eyes keenly on his face. " It'll be my Lady Lyndon, or perhaps the young squoire, ye are seeking ? " " No ; I merely wish to have a look at the place," he answered, not hesitating to satisfy her curiosity. " It's a purty place enough, sor ; but toimes is bad at Ballymore, as they are wid us all, and loikely to be worse, they say. Since the young squoire came into his own he's loike to become wan o' thim hard-hearted landlords that will have their rint at any price ; but maybe you'r* a friend of Mr. Lyndon's, begging your pardon, sor ? " "Oh no, I am no friend of his. I am merely interested a little in the history oi the place. I suppose the tenants are very poor ? Do you happen to know anything of a family called Rooney > " " Why, yes, sor, I know Ted and his mother — pore craitur, she's been bed-rid these five years and more ! and Kitty Rooney; his sister. We were at school together in Glendalough ; she was here seeing me last night. May I make bould to ask whether it's a friend of the Rooneys ye are } " Fletcher smiled at her insatiable curiosity, for which, however, her winning black eyes seemed to mutely ask pardon. " No ; I never set eyes on a Rooney among them," he answered, " Only I heard that they were likely XCbe fteart of XLbinQs "3 to get into trouble over their rent. I was interested in the case, that was all." •-"ci.cea "There has been talk about evictions in Ballymore sor,' sa.d the girl, her smiling eyes becoming sudrnly clouded. " It will be the first that's been in Glenda^ lough, and some say it will be the last," she added significantly. '; It's a great disappointment, sor, that the young squoire should have come back from England with such a hard heart ; but, ach me, shure it's England that IS the rum av us all. asking your pardon, sir! if it " No i am not English," Fletcher answered re- assuringly, as he slipped a coin into her hand. " Go,^. isn^ It > "'"''' ""'^'" *"°'' ** *"" *° B»»y°>«e, Jr^^'^\^ '."i^ """^ ^''^'- ^'- The smoke from the castle will guide you. Maybe you'll give us a call again as ye go by." s <= ub a can She folded her hands above her snowy apron and faiUrwa^Ih' ""': '°'^"^"'''' -rt-y. nor'did she M to watch h,m as he made his way manfully up the steep side of the hill which was crowned by the rl °,^ !u' ''^"'°'''- A'' •"= approached tt he set rr, T T °^ ** ^""'"y ^""^^ he had yet seen ,n Ireland. It was built in the baronial style, and ,ts turret windows commanded a magnificent prospect of the whole valley of Glendalough He dear vew of ,t, and then, taking a detour, he skirted Ae_outs.de of the park, and presently came to an u^'lr T """■=" *' """fy stretched in undulatmg reaches, descending gradually to the 8 ' - ■^"■uiinrTi'iini'it 'I' ii i 114 H Son ot iBtin neighbouring valley. At that particular season of the year the landscape presented rather a desolate appear- ance, the sparse harvest was already ingathered, and the potatoes (almost a complete failure, the few which had come up being almost without exception destroyed by disease) made dark and ugly patches on an other- wise rich and beautiful scene. Standing on a ridge at the edge of the plateau, Fletcher took in the whole sweep of the Ballymore estate, and observed that it was evidently apportioned out in very small holdings. It seemed as if upon every few acres there was a little thatched homestead, with its surrounding cluster of tumble-down outbuildings. Not far from him an old man was slowly ana laboriously digging at his potato furrows, and Rob observed that as he shook each plant he also shook his head. He watched him for some little time, and then, thinking doubtless he could obtain the information he desired from him, he leaped the boundary wall and walked up the furrow to his side. " Good-day to you," he said, cheerily, and at the unaccustomed sound the old man gave a great start. "Ach, shure, it's a fright ye'll be afther givin' me, sor, axin' yer pardin ; but we're not accustomed to the loikes av you. Good-day to yez all the same." " I only want to know if you can direct me to Mrs. Rooney's house ? " " Shure, an' that I can. There it be, sor, roight afore yer face. Ye can't miss it. D'ye see where the black donkey is ? That's the beginning av his fields. Ye'll know the house by its tasty windows that Kitty is always after keepin' swate an' clean. Might I mEKc uoulu to ax whetiicr ye are any kin to Widder Rooney, dacent sowl that she is, an' sorely tried ? " ^be ibeact of Ubinge harder 'j'' rZ^^L^^l ^tl S Y't' " *- in your head." '^ "°' *" '"^l" '°ngue "No. I am not Irish," answered Fletcher -A. least, not that I am aware of Well T ^'™"- , At you from your work but will ' "" "°' ''^^P Rooney's." ' "'" "'^P °" «o Widow entrarned'^^'sHghte:" 'LT ^^'^^ "="■ -' house of the Rooney o of Zw '"''""^ ""^ l^iy yieiaea to a curiosity to behold v^hh nis own eyes the nlar^ ;« u- / ^ "cnoia with plained reaL. t tot'a L^ttrett^ Td^ i Tppeled X'^ZZn'^T'- ^''°"' '^"'•^^ «^- blue smolce fro."o„e f d of t rore%'t' "^' °' what weatherbeaten old back dS/ "T"" browsing at the edge of one of th. fl M^ Peacefully the buildings were all .r! 1- ""'''• ^'"'°"gh the thatch °of Te cott"' llTu"" '°"f''"°"' ''™ proof, the place was marked h '''''"^ ""'"'"- careful tenaLy. There were n^ """I T"'""^ "^ manure or othe'r untidresr ^be een""tt littt""^ "' yard round which the farm h,Ju } ^^ ''°"'^- was cleanly swep,'l\[rth': e';:f:/Tcr ^ ^''"='7 the testimonv of fK« ^i^ -->-d-ty^ xt^eii uure out pan.beingUh^;;/.^P7-f-.wm^^ ii6 H Son of Ertn ii| I I neat muslin curtains as white as the driven snow. The door was shut, and after a moment's hesitation Fletcher gave a slight knock. Immediately a feeble voice bade him enter, which he did. The light was comparatively dim in the little low-ceiled kitchen, and it was just a moment before the young man's eyes grew sufficiently accustomed to the gloon: to discern the solitary occupant. An old, old woman with white hair, her thin face worn by long suffering, sat in an enormous highbacked chair close to the hearth. She was not able to rise, but leaned forward, and betrayed the liveliest interest at the sight of the stranger. "Good-day, sor,'' said she, fixing him with her keen black eyes, whose brilliancy years of suffering had scarcely dimmed. '* It'll be Ted you're after ; but he's gone to Wicklow this afternoon, though why he has gone I'm shure I couldn't tell you. Kitty isn't at home either. She's gone to take some needlework to the ladies at Castle Beg, and she'll not be home afore six." " That's all right," said Fletcher, cheerily, wonder- ing much at his own presumption in intruding without any real justification upon this humble home. " May I sit down and rest } I've walked a long distance, and your hills are by no means to be despised." " I didn't think much av them, sor, when I was your age," she answered, with a slight smile, " and what would I not give to set fut on the heather agin. May I make bould to ax how far ye have come ? " " Yes ; I have come from Killane, the other side of Rathdrum. I suppose you know the place } * " Fine do I know it, sor," she answered. " If ever f--oon-nAY, .so,.,- s.m,, shf f:. IPai,rr ii6. ^be ibeHrt of ttbtnos fa- far short She 'ir^-""-^ MJss Ail.en doesn't looks in to speak a kl T '° ^""^^^^ •"« ^he I hope she il wdl ?•• ^°"^ *° P°°' B'"ddy Rooney. wee7:U tfe^iai:; "^ '"="• "■'^ ■■= '■" ^"■'"n this count;' ju^'i:"::, t^^V T^" P'— ■•" the S;^'^™^^:":ft;-- but they'll never take rlTT" """ ^"■"■•°" "-ere ; where IVe lived aH m "! °"' °' '^'" h°"«. the childer hve been born""";' h' ''^'- """^ '^""^ -" for you iook kind"a"nd°:„, „'o ^tr^rus 7"" T this very matter that T„j i, ^ ' "^ a^out consult a%e.y dacent m W bu f"' 'I '^"'''°'^' '° him for the best T^e " 'nt H "'' "'" "'" «<'"=« they do say that a' thL f^ " "'^' "'«'^^. and -c. ai, are^x;r™tVtlrho^r^r^^ •■iitliii- CHAPTER XV LADY LYNDON LETCHER remained talking some time to Widow Rooney, and when he lefe two facts were impressed upon his mind — that the lot of the Ballymore tenants was harder than most, because the side of the hill upon which all the small holdings were situated was bleak and barren, exposed to the bitter north wind, which sometimes nipped the tender shoots in their infancy ; even all the generous accompaniments of good farming could not make it a lucrative business ; as it was, hard times and generations of poor tillage had reduced the hungry acres to their feeblest capacity. The other fact borne in upon him was the extraordinary bitter- ness evidently cherished by the whole tenantry against the present Squire of Ballymore. He did not know why the matter interested him so keenly. It was not the first time he had heard of distressed tenants and hard-hearted landlords ; it was indeed the one theme which seemed to loom large before everyboay's vision ; yet the affairs of Ballymore and their probable issue haunted him strangely, and he retraced his steps across the fields to the side of the home park, his mind zi8 i vision J»e«n an accident I ac;c„ro t ^"' "^^^ ' was only tak nt . .^ u ^°" ^ "'^"'" «^^ ^o"- and " It'sa^rtht^ IZ '^°' "' ^ ^'■'•'^ °" the wing " Its ail right, said Fletcher hnf ^♦. *u """s- he felt somewhat embarrassertt ^^ '*""' "■"* difficult to satisfac ort :" ,1';°: ?' " ^""'^ ^ lands of Ballymore ■ bu^ 1? "'''P*'' °" 'he in the happ/g:Tucky :i. 'r:f T:„rL"^H "^"""""^ leaned over the t-nce hiTl^ w r ^ Lyndon, and he interested look ^^'" "^"'^ "'=^""2 q"'*^ »n you ":fng To Z "17\'T."'^ "P'^''"' - --e is at-home. I iLi sure she ' ,^'^ " ^'^ ■"°">«^ you." * '■'^ '^°"''' l^e pleased to see tall?a":',k ot'r •: ^hi' Jr""". ' "'^"^ "^'^ much of the beauti s o GentTolh"'? '^ ^° apologise for trespassing here!" ^ ' ' ""S*" '° "Oh, pray don't," said Terr^ ■ ■< m. . needed that I fcnoV of u"' fre. "° *P°'°S>' 'east it ought to be" !,„ L j country—or at shade of bitterness "If ''f'''' "'"• ^ ■"""■entary from Killane you ■ be glad'' of ! "*"1 *" '"^ ^^ just tea-time. There's „„k/ "^ °'^ ''"• """^ ''"^ mother. MybrotItTi„"Du°bf„::.Jiri'"' ""' .he captain and Miss Byrne have nof com^ backT" " 1 h'oughf s? 'fc ''''''''•' '~ot.-' gntso. VVell, are you coming .» You may 130 U Son ot Erin as well have a look at the old place. I think it's the show place of the whole glen, the house, I mean. The Lord knows there's little enough else we can be proud of." Fletched hesitated only a moment. It was not his nature to intrude himself anywhere, but his strange interest in the family and affairs of the Lyndons seemed too strong to be set aside. " You are very kind," he said. " I should like to see the outside of the house at least. I have heard what a fine place it is." " All right ; come on," said the lad, cordially. " I suppose you've been looking at our holdings, a sorry spectacle, aren't they ? Rent day falls next week. I expect we'll have lively times of it. Tom is deter- r.Jned that all who don't pay shall go. I think I'll put a bullet through myself before the day comes. It would be the easiest way out of the difficulty ; any- how, I've got nothing to look forward to. I have no profession, and the estate is burdened to that extent that I can't expect a penny from it. I can't think why I was ever born." "But can't you strike out a path for yourself.?" asked Fletcher, looking with a sudden warm interest into the lad's fine open face, which was scarcely marred by the expression of bitterness upon it. " It's easy to say strike out a path ; why, I haven't even had a university training — everything's been spent on Tom, and a nice mess he's making of it. I don't know what makes me speak out so frankly to you, but I liked you that day at Killane — somehow you seemed to understand things. What do you suppose I could do now ? Look at it squarely in the face. I am nearly eighteen years of age. I have a in his eye The n,T ""*'"''*'"> an odd twinkle out, even'Tn ZL7Z T1 [" "" """ ™""' and the natural bentTf hi ?" ''"""' depression, or .^. and evtllet 'SoS s^tf '-^^ up . ":rei ^re"che!: '''"■■"" ^"o - ^'- ^°" a ,eg and unfortunate,; '^ t lo^^Zl^TZ TT ' we have. I have an .,n,5erneads with the few -meti.es thinro" J tHut^he^'h"'^' ^'°"^ ^ to Ballymore since my father m. J '' "'^"'' *^"^" « Was .> o ?^ married my mother." oonsu^in;'i„r:r '"'"•''''" '''''^' '''^'cher, with Lyndo^n conn^^^^tu^r^th °rVcr on^B^, '^"""^ from that day I dnn'f t f " J^^llymore I-'t it a pri J-spot '""he b oTe I^ '^ T'' " ■■^• aZt ;t- thati^h i ^ "'-- - ^.S ">. fate I io^orhtes ;i&S7t'j/''- away from Ballymore " ^"^'^ ^^'^^ ab "Ltrss'S^eredt"^ '''"> ^" ■■""""«'- Fletcher was sile^ Tn, to accentuate his words. fate which h'dl'deZ"nl t-T °' ''' '""^ °' natured boy the youtef IL'",:*. "if :!P'f."^.<^' "o"'- ■nto the hands of his unworthy elderth" "°"'" There was no lack of iuxu^., no sign of hard times 122 B Son of Brin I about the house of Ballymore. The contrast between It and the plain, simple dwelling of the Byrnes was very marked. As Fletcher followed his young guide (his own heart beating tumultuously) up the noble staircase to the drawing-room, he saw upon every hand evidences of that extravagant expenditure for which the Lyndons had long earned a reputation. There was nothing shabby, second-rate, or simple. It seemed nothing less but gorgeous to his unaccustomed eyes and as he thought of the Widow Rooney sitting by her desolate hearth, consumed with anxiety and fear as to the coming events, a hot feeling of indignation, almost of shame, filled his soul. He seemed to realise for the first time how great is the power of human selfishness to add to the misery of the world. Terry, who in that brief interview in the Killane drawing-room had felt strangely drawn towards the new inmate of the captains household, and who was himself too un- sophisticated a child of nature to take into considera- tion any question of social degrees, ushered his new iriend into his mothers drawing-room without the slightest misgiving, certain, at least, she would not shame the laws of hospitality, but would give him a courteous, if not kindly, welcome. " Mother, this is Mr. Fletcher," he called out cheerily the moment they were within the door of the lofty imposing apartment where Lady Lyndon spent most of her time. " Don't make such a noise over it. Terry," a languid ^rtcheT'^''""^" "^""^ ''^°' "^"^ ^ ^"'^"^^"' ^^^^• " Why, Captain Byrne's secretary ! You know we ^Mi T ^^^ °'^^' ^^y^ th^ last day we were at is.iiiane, said Terry in rapid explanation. 1*^ Lady Lyndon rose from her sofa. She had hearH ome account of that call from her other son who had o th'eclta^: "'°" *^ ""'' P—Pt"ous 'assurance elpetntrshTruidr;Led\r -" i° '•^ mdivMual in the draWng-roorn'of t' y-- "tI^" aler ""h-'""'"""'""' '""^ °f thought had mS^^ anotner of his numerous mistakes i ^Jt t T would no, however, so far "rj hers^e^'^as^-^^'b: ItW«t of h. !'! ^"''"^ '''^'•^her with the very stiltest of bows, and bade him find a chair Qh. not a handsome or attractive-lookfng person although nes, 'f ' ^"'■"-■'dh'g fig-e, and aUa n In r,o„f ness of manner which proclaimed her hieh b T «!, hT to" Settnrt "T r '' ^ ^^^ ought to hU'died'rnJr^d^r t'facT ttf h'' visit!" the :iT '■"'>"'' '"^ '""' P'^-"- °f '"is certain dfrttness whic'h' V S "' ^^' "'"^ ^ was totally unused tolhitay^'of^erraXr t"! 'Oh, hang it, mother," said Terrv a. »,. close to her sofa to rin^ for t., «T . P*''*'' f Jurr., on me a^ef 7 ^o^' i'k:'l"t"' :il ''" fault. I only met him out on theMl't anJ'aVed Z mm 124 U Sou ot iBrfn m m i He never would have come in on his own to come in. account." In a moment, however, Fletcher's quick temper rose He had not yet acquired any of the veneer with which pohte society smoothes its ruffled feelings. He felt that he was unwelcome, and his natural impulse was to get out of the house as quickly as possible. His strong, honest face was deeply flushed as he rose to his feet. "I beg your pardon, Lady Lyndon. I have no right here. I ought not to have come. I have the honour to bid you good afternoon," he said, stiffly and in spite of ^Terry's dismayed exclamation, he walked Sf-rairrVif r^„4- -.f ^L _ ^ . walked straight out of the room. Lady Lyndon looked much annoyed. She was not accustomed to such cavalier treatment ; and, in a person of Fletcher's standing, resented it most deeply. She turned sharply on Terry as the door closed. "How dare you bring such a boor into my presence. Terry.? When will you learn what is htting and proper respect to pay to your mother " Oh, mother, I thought I was doing no harm. I thought at least you'd be civil to the chap for hospitality's sake, though he is only Captain Byrne's secretary. I must go after him and apologise." So saying Terry flung himself hotly and angrily out of the house. Lady Lyndon, angry still, walked to one of the windows, and watched them cross the park together. Fletcher's profile was towards her, and it seemed to haunt her with a vague irritating sense of familiarity. The very set of his figure, the square, broad shoulders, the long swinging gait, the well- balanced head, all strnrt h***- "Mth - -fr-T-r-- /---t.^. Now, where have I seen some one like him.?" she the po«.a. or^e. ht^ ItTd t ^e ':!'Hn':" Wicklow Hounds. She gave fS. T''" u"' ""^ covered her face with hertands- ""' "'™' """ -:he:o?:S"^ft'; ."Lrirv^^ -^ "-'^^^ outright, and making meT fSble^o,^ "^"^ <>' ">e my time." S me a teeble old woman before ..— ^s^:^^^*. :tiiiiw aiwi i titn iji T-ij . , i r. i' CHAPTER XVI TERRY'S OPINION. FELT I must come after you," said Terry ' as he linked his arm through xHchers just outside the hall door. the'br The""""' '°. "''"' '^' "'""'"g ">»""« Of the boy The momentary gloom on Fletcher's face ""y don t say any more about it," he said auicklv I ought not to have intruded on L^dy Lynd'o„ Z your mutation so frankly given tempted m^" ' "Th°se ',^"°'ri'""'^/" "yf^It/'said Terry, ruefully. Killane?" ^ ^°'"^ *° ^^^^ back to "Yes; there's no other way of ^ettino- T^.^i • there ? Besides, I like the walklitt f t fy etrntg'" rfn ^ !' 1" '' ■"" '''^'■■""■"g 'o g« dark already I do hate the autumn so, it always has a depre^ssing 136 ^err^'s Opinion 127 effect on my spirits. I don'f tn^ u . with me just now. but l2l tZ tV ''' ''^ "^"^^ all wrong, as if we were on the brink or^' ""'.^""^ almost. Do you ever havl Z '""""^ calamity " Sometimes iZ "^^§^'"'"2s like that ? " n^uch abou:The ^.^^:^J::r ^- thinking too " Weil. I beheve ther^'f ui '''^^^'^^^ FJetcher. beheve that ToT w^' I 'ar''''"^ ^'" ^^^^- ' ^-"'^ execution. If he dol soml'^- 'T ^'^ '^^^^^^^ '"^o as sure as I am tafe ; t'^w"^'^^^^ Ti^ '^^P^' be expected to submit JZ , u " '^^ P"°P^^ of their homes > I i^? Wke, ^^;^'"! ^''^'^ °"t do it ? ThAf. k^ I ^^^'^ Would you or I " . mat s how we have got to look af if t Have^you seen a„,.Hi„, of P J„e„ .jt "^ iVlo'eT^ .•n.:2;;-iU':^etTou''LdTeft'° ^"'^"^- "^ -"ed "Queer chap, isn't he?" «q;^ *i. ^ " Nobody likes h/m, though mo f 1 ^ """""S'^- him, I think, because ,hf, TT ^ "^'^ *"■« ^^^^ o[ keeps his ow; co?nse, a„^ „! ' ""'^^^'*"'' h™ ^ "e •0 anybody. If vou ^^^ .1 ^"'^' '"''"'«"' ^^ay power o J, peo'prd^nVy-o 14°-; ^.^ '^"-^ «' fact I'll never distin?uJ.h i. ,c "^ ^ ^^^'ain always giving my T t^'Tn V'' "^^^ ^ ^- manner." ^ '" 'be most guileless th.nk he wm be .he next ie^ade/ofX IW^-pa^^^^r -ppe.- Hav: ::'ar;rbrorit°'^ ^"" --^ » 128 lll^ m B Son of iBvin "Not much, certainly," said Flefrhpr «fi, astonished to find that T^y. i^'^spit^of h^ hi" scarum way, had some grasp of the situation. life thatWht'r.!;^.' ^"""^ °f going mto public lite ti^ats what Id Lite; and the first measure I'd go .„ for would be a Bill to compel Irish landlords to peop°e 1;iT "'''", r' '''"' "" '"'"-' ■■" their people Its all very well to put all tne blame on the peasants, and call them la^y good-for-nothings. ?ha?s eas. y done ; but let any of them that talk „ that st«.n come and try for a year or two to gef a rTf- T f "" ^"'^ ^^- he'" change his tune That s what I am always telling Tom ; but. although heTan't :r \'°k°/ '"°"^'' '^'"' °" his'educatton. thafsthr '" '""' ^^"'^ *"■"' °' "^ wonWperhaps thats the more correct way to put it. It's horrid, I tell you, to stand by helpless and see so many ZVr*""^ *° ''' "'^"'''"^- Now, these Rooneys -thats the.r place over there," he went on. pointing backward to the homestead with which Fletchef had already made acquaintance-- they've been in Arraghvanna over a hundred and fifty years (longer than we have been in Ballymore in a dir«t line), ye 111 V »^ '"'.""'^ °f '""'"g «'«"' °« a he be th ^ V ^°'%r " ""^ ^'*"' That can't be right, you know, Fletcher. Why, they've as much right to Arraghvanna as we have. Ted's a queer, rough diamond, but there isn't a lazy bone in a .^^H ?Y"' *""" '"'^ '""' ^-'y '• ^^' "e talks a good deal of course, and he has a hot temper Perhaps he spends rather more of his time than he ought down m Mickey Malone's tavern,' The Haro' as you come into Glendalough. I don't believe he drinks much, though. I think it's Mickey's daughter, n"; ^errs's ©pinion that's the attraction Th» .u- . "' to Ton,, but holds his h^J'IVr^^ "■°"'' "'"g' »d says quite frankly he ^on' Jeav^e"'' '^°'" ^""''"' said VSr "^'^ '" ^°" "-""'^ '-ebt considerably " iPeX^^^totthttrd"- V"'--^^ Ted's sister-sits up half th' „ Tl.""'' ^itty-thafs needlework to help^ a fellj'" ^°'"^ '''^^ ='"d fine these things, you know and oeo In ^'' ^'^^ fro™ to be harried and bad^ed r^u '"" ""2'" ""' "I quite agree wUh w' V'^ landing the matter more fun' J J''*"^"' ""d«- "But I mustn't take^u oo'^ff;" ."l"^" ^« done. g>^back'an:°s'r: r.:r^'td ri^"^" -- - they came within sight of thi' i ^ "y- P^"^ing as -■" meet again soon tJ^^ V°f ^^ ^"'l- " ^ hope over to Killane on Sunday r' nof"" ^ f" ~""'"g any day of the week, but Su '!" "^"^ '''PPJ' >>"« and blood can stand " "^^ " "'°'-« than flesh fairs of the famVwjth wLse^H ^•"''"^'^<' '" '"^ to be so closely intertwined ' "''""'"^ ■"''^ °™ was 0.eIX-^t^----o Of .,^ ^,^„,,^ ^^ entirely out of keeping'^ w"h Z^l'^^""='= ^vas „ow "•e house. The gaL w^re of l.t'"^'" '"'""^^ °f S «'^'^« °f the finest wrought iron, 9 ^ff! ill 11 ^l ffl; 130 a Son of iBvin of quaint and exquisite workmanship, and had been brought from Florence by the late squire's father, who was a man of fine taste and discernment. He had caused huge granite pillars to be hewn to support them, these were surmounted by the escutcheon of the house — a mailed hand with uplifted sword. A lodge guarded the entrance on either side, and the ivy which grows so luxuriantly in that kindly soil had clothed every available surface with its evergreen beauty, making a picture not easily surpassed. Fletcher paused in the roadway, and took a long, close survey of that imposing entrance ; its artistic beauty was pleasiog to the eye, and seemed to witness to the importance and standing of the Lyndons. Much food for thought had Fletcher received that day. He marvelled more and more at the hold which the very name of Lyndon had taken upon his imagination. Dusk was now rapidly falling, and, bethinking him- self suddenly that he had a long way before him, he walked rapidly on, and presently (having an eye for locality which seldom erred) he plunged into the dark recesses of a wood which he believed would cut a considerable distance off the road. Already the leaves lay thickly under foot, and the trees were becoming rapidly thinned. They stood before him on either side like ghostly sentinels, with their leafless arms stretched out almost appealingly to the autumnal sky. He followed the beaten path for some distance, until he suddenly emerged unexpectedly into a small green glade, so shut in by thick trees on either side that its existence often came as a surprise to those unfamiliar with the wood. The trunks of several fallen trees lay across the soft green turf in a sheltered Uerrs's ©piiUon ,31 corner, and upon this natural seat Fletcher wa«; immediately recognised as the Squire of Ballymore His companion was a girl, evidently one of the LT\">, !,\''"f '*'" '^"^ "° hat or bonnet, bu? only the red hood of her cloak, which, however, made LsXt^'r'"'"^ ^''"" '° °"^ °f 'he sweetest faces Fletcher had ever seen. He had little more than a glance at her, yet it was sufficient to imprint those delicate, clearly-cut features on his memory. The charm of her face was further deepened by the large clear grey eyes, which had in their depths that strange mingling of pathos and arch merriment which ;s the characteri.,tic of Irish eyes wherever found Their attitude and bearing towards each other left no doubt on Fletcher's mind that they were lovers. The girl saw him first, and sprang affrighted to her feet. Then Lyndon whose hands and face had been softened ■no undoubted tenderness as he urged something upon his companion, looked round in angry haste, and when he saw and recognised the intruder a deep scowl instantly brought out all that was worst in h'is ace the i'lL"' f '■''' ^^'''^" had been pursuing crossed T. nlh ' '". ""T""^ "' ^^y *™"gh the wood on the her side. He only glanced at them once, and hen kep steadily on, and though he heard Ly;don address him by name betook no notice, but, quickentg his steps, immediately disappeared within the shadow i ■: CHAPTER XVII TEMPTED SMALL, mean nature is always suspicious. Lyndon immediately jumped to the con- clusion that Fletcher had been dogging his steps— though, if he had taken a moment to reflect, he would have seen the absurdity of such a thought. Why a man who had only seen him once should take sufficient interest in him to watch his niovements was a question he did not trouble to ask himself. He had a very hot temper; and his face reddened as he shook his fist after the retreating figure -—a proceeding which filled Kitty Rooney with amusement more than anything else. " Why, whoiver is the gintleman, Misther Tom, and what has he done to you at all, at all ? " " He's watching me, confound him ! He has followed us here. What right has he on my land > I'll speak to Captain Byrne to-morrow, and have it put a stop to." " What has the captain got to do with it ? " asked Kitty, thinking her lover looked rather ridiculous in a passion for which there seemed to be but small foundation. *' That fellow's his secretary— a common fellow, but look the an,cr died o^ of Lyndonf faci sS^"' Vou may be right, Kitty ; but I doubt it u ^._^K,tty was shrewd enough to read between the " It's Miss Aileen you're afrairi av " ch^ . m j Oh, that's all nonsense, and you know ,> ir-f* .. "Sure an' they moight" said K-,'ff„ • "Nothing aisier in the lorld " ^' '""°'=*"">'- vouS;r'?' y^ydoyoutantah-semeso? Won't you believe I care for nobody but vou and .!„► r .t trw::s juJt;:;? r ^{-y^"^^'^ Vou knorhorhardMr^:: rir r^'""^- worries we have. , .ust steTn.;:;: ^^r^ ^ till the worst has blown over" ^ il m 134 a Son ot Ertn comparison — thinking of the sad fireside where her mother sat alone, the last days of her sufifering life embittered by a thousand fears ; of her brother Ted, high-souled, honest, hard-working, kept down by the sordid conditions of his life. Lyndon did not like that look. It betrayed emotions which would not speed his wooing ; and, though he had loved many a time during the last three years, somehow this appeared to be the most serious episode of them all. Yet he knew that, so far as any real or honourable issue was concerned, it was hopeless, since his mother expected and desired him to make a rich marriage, and that even Aileen Byrne would not be regarded as suitable from her particular point of view. "What are you thinking, Kitty? Some harm against me, I could swear." " No ; I was only thinking av the hard toimes," she answered, and her upper lip curled with a quite involuntary sarcasm. "Well, you mustn't. Think rather of the good times that are coming, when we shall be all in all to each other," he said, coaxingly, as he tried to draw her to his side. But she drew back, shaking her head, and her face wore quite a serious look. " I didn't come out this evenin' to hear them sort av things, Misther Tom, but to ax what's to be done about the rint. Ted got his paper from Misther Moran notice to quit at Martinmas. It came yesterday. He's gone to Wicklow to-day to see what Misther Gafifney, the lawyer, my father's cousin, has to say about it." Lyndon winced. He was not aware that his bailiff had already served the notices, or he would have before now felt the awkwardness of his position towards Kitty. There was certainly something incongruous in making trempteO .jj tion '°V ^^h' 'r'^°f\''^'""y «"«= -nder notice of evic (■on. Yet he had been in her company for half an hour a„d she had never mentioned it'untH no' He could not but marvel at her restraint of "l2^ "x 7? ,"""' ^"°"' "■^' "'^ » ""o matter of form. Ted had to get his with the rest." he sa d rather confusedly. ..Qf course, you know wouldiW thmkof puttmg the screw on^.«, people-that si you— if you care about it at all " •• Care about it ! " she repeated, looking at him with a steady slow wonder in her large, soft eyes. ■' Sh„re an .sn t .t a matter of loife or death .' Put it to your' self. How would you like it if you didn't know whX you would be allowed to sleep another night in BaUy more.- An' yet you ask if I care I I was down in Monaghan when the evictions began. I'll never forglt It as long as I live." ^ "I shouldn't like it, of course.' ne answered ■mpa .ently. ■■ But there's something to be saTd on my side, too Kitty. What am I to live on AnS you know a lot of them are lazy spendthrifts, nothing ess. But come, don't let's talk of such disagreeable She stepped behmd the felled trunks, and leaning her elbows on the topmost one, looked across thf barrier at him steadfastly. sim'Div''°"^''"°"' ":'"" ^°" "''"'^ ^"^ '°'" ^he said, smply. I came to ax you for God's sake to spare w:,?t 'core..! "' ' '"''" """= "'^"' -• ««= '■'--e *»,o«.»ii ., \ •J>mv;w. i must have tenants that 11 pay their rents ." icudnis 136 a Son of iBvin (li; " Oh, it can't be as bad as that R^c.-^^ only wan." said Kitty, shrewdly « Look at Cant"' Byrne There-s no talk av eWctions if Kmane' an" nes not so rich as you ." ^"lane, an " I wouldn't be so sure of that Kin^. tu has pleaded poverty all his days and UpayT^NrH" 'r:: ^x't """''■"'■ "'■'" ^'^ 'Sent"": tt^ witn me. 1 m at my wits' end " staild? '"'' "'■ ''°" ;° '^"'' '^'■«>'- You don't under- she drew hfrh'^lldTuttreaLr'^" ^""^^ '"' "1 don't see how I can b„t r-nf v '"^• persuade Moran to\ave Srr,l "^ , ^°'' '*^ '° n>.-nd you. I do^t 'S^StsT^e:';- ' *-f ' it onT? ""'"" '"' '■"^°'-' '° -"' months back Its only for your sake I would spare him." ^• wo:// sparHirarr:: tt r^ "f^ ■*■"' " I daresay he'd be an^A, w? . " f*** '■""•"•" like that. Kitty' I won'M.. ' y"" «"<" going in the world J you i^nly you'^riet ^° ""^""'"^ ^emptc^ 137 do for you, if only W iVj "°""'"S I wouldn't but you aWays sLZLZZ^y--'"" '" -'"" ' I ve tould ye before, MistLr T^' naught but a jest betwUl! t vTk^^"' "" '"^ meet you so often, and I've felt so ^-u """^ '° I've not dared to look Father O'R^ " ""f^^^'^"- But, God knows, IVe had onI„ P" '" *= <■««. out to meet y^u 7ike tWs ^w ,"'°"^''"" '"""n' to soften your heart, and geme"-,-""'^'" ''^ al*'' "Well, you have softel,^ •' "7 7' ''°PP^'' come by her beauty, which had „.^°" '""^' '^"■ as then, softened by the LLL T ''^^""^ ^° "re " I will do anything youask^Vr' °^ ^"^ «>"'• love." ^ ^°" ask me if only I can win your " What is that- In and prayers of all the peopTofTn""" *"' S™"*"^^ quickly. "That is whTf velnr'^""-,'-" '''tasked, them a little more time " "•"' "^ ^^ *'" give ;o pVp^X^^^^ - - a- ten Mor. ho dmg her hand, while his eye^ L, . *"'^''' =«" !"wT' ''''' ''™' "P°" her far* P''''°"*'* -embr;yo?i:mJ;Sr^l-,re°'''/^^^^ ^-- -" "Thafs all very IS Tft , V'"'' '°'^">'- as he let her hand Tl " S°^''" he answered i' -'t enough 'uZr-'l"^"''*"'^"">'' •'""' such a hold of me that I canT'., '^~^°"'™ 5°' quite ready to mak. • Ll" f^ ^°'' "P' ' am I'll promise to do e^emtS *'* '""' '^ y^" «ke. . everything you want for the people 138 a Son of I6rin m. ■ f « 1 ri Hi of Ballymore if you give yourself to me. There, now ; nothing could be fairer than that." The hot colour flushed her cheek, and she looked at him with a strange, deep-searching glance. "I'm only a poor girl," she said, slowly, "but I belong to dacent folk who would rather see me dead than going wrong. I'd rather be dead myself. So if that's your terms, Misther Tom, I thank you kindly, and I'll be going. Ballymore and the evictions must just take their chance." There was all the pride of a young queen in her gesture as she drew her skirts aside as if fearing to touch him. Lyndon had never seen her in this mood, which seemed to his disordered vision the mort bewitching of them all. " I don't mean any wrong to you, you foolish girl," he said, hastily. " Of course I mean an honourable love. I'll marry you, Kitty, by God I will, in spite oi them all!" She paused a moment against the leafless tree, once more arrested by his words, which presented a totally unexpected possibility to her mind. "Marry me!" she exclaimed, mockingly, "after what ye have just said about Lady Lyndon finding out that we have met .? Ye are trying to decaive me, Misther Tom ; but my eyes are wide open, and I know that such a thing could never be." " Yes, it could, Kitty ! " he cried, quickly, becoming more eager as Kitty's opposition waxed stronger. " It's not the first time a gentleman has married one of his dependents." " But I'm not your dependent, Misther Tom, as it happens," she said, with a proud uplifting of her head. " I am Kitty Rooney, of Arraghvanna, as good a family rich." as Uemptc^ the J.yndons, though maybe not 139 so Why, Kitty, you have the pride of a princess, and 1 hke to see it in you," he said, admiringly. " What a splendid Lady of Ballymore you would make » If only you had the dress, and all the accompaniments, you would put them all in the shade. Listen to me now, Kitty, seriously. Of course you must understand that if we were to seek to marry openly and in the ordinary way just now, when matters are so strained at home, and everything at sixes and sevens, nothing but disaster would ensue. My n.other would move heaven and earth to prevent and, even if she did not succeed, she would m«.'« board, so 1 II be bidding ye good-night ' "Wei! then, Kitty, if that's your answer vou out of Arrsghvanna," he said, significantly. "I am quite willing to give you every proof of my sincerity you ask for except a public marriage just now S would be to ruin us all." ' rosf bdbTi"h';'' *'• '^ "''"■" °' '"' P°^-'"« ^*'i°n thp .. h" niind, accentuated by the memory of Monft T '"'* "'■*""='='^ "^ her uncle-s farm a Monaghan. Lyndon, watching her changing face with hawk-hke eyes, detected a momentary wavering Tnd was quick to take advantage of it "Now, listen, Kitty," he said, coaxingly "Ifs quite a fair exchange. You become my wffe and fo your dear sake I forego my immediate daimk not on tore It's\ X^"' "" *" *^ P-P'« of Bally. more. It s a mighty sacrifice, although you don't appreciate it, and the Lord only knows hL iZ gob ' o truggle through. AH the sacrifice I ask from^you .otWnlV ° °''f""'y f^' ^ ■■•«'- while, and to say uoftmg to anybody until the whole trouble blows by^ th^n you will be the Mistress of Ballymore." m.-„/I' !'^ ^°°"^y' ^'*h°"g'' » »»sible and right- minded girl was not devoid of feminine vanity or in!;! '^ of Ba'lyn'ore, and to have such a fine young !^^ TJ°' * *"'"'""''■ '^°"''' he a triumph indeed aUhough the prudent part of her nature wh' pered to her that the risks of the undertaking as they were represented by Lyndon were very great betllt-"'- 'v' '!;' '?"'^'" *= ^''■"''- " I *hink we'd better pa,., M.sther Tom, and say no more about It. ■-J"''' 141 It isn't safe. I daresay if we have m ^ •. a yanna we'll find shelte; elsewhere' all?" k ^T^^' it will kill my mother" '^""^^'^ although I know and meet me here at the same ^ """' '' ^°" ^'^^' evening." ^ '^""^ ^"^^ on Saturday " It doesn't want any thinking over • but TMI you if you like nn <5o4. J . ' ^ * ^^ "^^Ct «i- J . " Saturday night" saM ir-*.. " Good-evenine " Anri vu "'s""^* said Kitty. another word'^he dal ted fZhl ""h"' •" "^^^ lost in the shadow of he IZ As "1 *" u'^T'"'' road she heard the heavy ti^ad of an '""''''' »he foot, and before she could get out of .h *PP™»">'"g face to face with Father O-H .^ "^^ '^^ '=«"'« parish priest of GlendllhTe"' "^f '-"^'o^^-l of stout figure, witha^etanf ^1'";""'^ "'^" heart big enough to hold a ,t w"es Vv'' '".^ * scattered parish. ' "'^ widely- he"s':rd°'rhrr;r/' z'zt'r' ""' "^ ""« '"■°o'." regarded l^^k^nlyTlTt"' 'r"^^ ""^ flock ; a devoted daugh';er whl t 'otrheH °' '" an example to others. ^''' "P «« " Yes. I have been to ( ae'io n„~ ^t work, father," she aid quiet' .^1°^ """" hurrying home. Good-ev;ni'ng to'^ou." ' ' ="" ^"^^ seentM:iy"L, ltd""" ""''" ' ''"P^" '° "- ofthegleTl coud no, '"""^" ^'■^'' »' ""e north r , ' "^ould not manage it To mr~-, - come without fail " ^"~ i o-mo.iow i Very well, father, thank you. Good-evening." end I 1^ JIti n 142 a Son of iBvin she repeated, and she hurried on, glad to be released without further questioning. A few yards further along the road Father O'Hagan met the Squire of Ballymore, and stopped to speak with him for a few minutes. It was not until after he had parted from him that the coincidence struck him with a vague sense of uneasiness. " Now, I hope the young rascal is not playing fast and loose with Kitty Rooney. He's just the living image of 'is grandfather, who made more trouble of that kind in the parish than any other man within its bounds." •'■"I1& ■i 'I CHAPTER XVIII FROM OUT THE PAST T was about seven o'cloc'c before Fletcher reached Killane, and he was then con- siderably surprised to learn that the captain and Miss Byrne had returned from Dublin H». supposed that they had come unexpectedly, since he had had no mtimation of it from any of the servants. He looked mto the study, and finding no one there he sat down to wait, and began to overlook the work he had done in the morning ; but he found it difficult to concentrate his thoughts, although the chapter he had written dealing with some of the most stirring scenes of the rebellion had interested him beyond measure in the morning. The events of the afternoon however, had turned his thoughts into a different groove, and he was specially troubled by what he had seen in the woods of Ballymore. He felt more and more certain that Lyndon was a scoundrel at heart and the desire to warn Kitty Rooney. and to get he; If possible withdrawn from his influence, pursued him with a persistency which amazed himself. He had been m the study for about an hour when Denis Doolan knocked at the door. 143 144 21 Son ot Erin " If you plase, sor, Miss Byrne would be glad if you would join her at supper. She is waiting now." " Oh, I beg her pardon, Denis. Hasn't the captain come back, too ? " "Yes, sor; but he has gone over to Avondale and I don't think he will be back till late." answered Doolan. " He asked for you when he came in ; but I don't think it was anything particular." "All right, Denis," said Fletcher, and hastily lockmg up the desk he proceeded to the dining-room. It was only three days since Aileen had left Killane and it seemed to Fletcher as he entered that the whole room was filled with her presence. He did not pause to analyse or understand the quiet glo / of pleasure which took possession of him as he saw her once more in her accustomed place. Although he had not admitted it to himself, the place had seemed empty without her, yet not a hint of these inner feelings was betrayed on his impassive face as he bade her good- evening, and hoped she had had a pleasant visit. " Oh yes, thank you ; not perhaps quite so pleasant as usual. There are too many rumours of war in the air," she said, with a slight smile, not untouched by sadness. " Papa has gone o-'^r to see Mr. Parnell, I think, on rather important business. He told us not to wait, so will you please take his place > " Fletcher seated himself at the bottom of the table without a word, and proceeded to carve the bird which Doolan set before him. In these few weeks Fletcher, apparently without effort, had made marvellous strides in deportment (if I may use that now almost obsolete word) ; that is to say. he could bear himself without awkwardness in a lady's presence, and even attend to all the little courtesies of the tab' without ifcom out tbe past ,45 making any flagrant mistakes. A quiet, unobtrusive person has alvyays the advantage over one inch'ned to make a noise in the world, and, though ignorant, does not draw attention to his shortcomings Aileen felt pleased to see him again. She thought as she poured out the coffee that his face was a smgularly pleasant one-the face of a man to be trusted. She felt towards him as one might feel towards a tried friend. " I think Dublin is in a state of great unrest." she said, casually. "We were at the castle more than once, and even there I think there is a vaeue ZTT ^t v^'°"^^ "°' ^^^P ^^'"k'"^' ^« I have often thought before, what a mistake that little mockery of a court is. It does not win anybody's respect. The only persons who really take any interest in it are those struggling for social recogni- tion. ^^ I felt out of tune with the whole life and the place. Fletcher was much struck by the shrewd observation betrayed by her remarks. " I quite agree with you," he said, readily. « I have often thought myself, that, unless there could be a real court, presided over by a Prince of the blood, here ought to be none at all. It is an insult to the Irish people. I can't imagine such a state of affairs to exist ,n Edinburgh, for instance. I a^n sure the Scottish people would never stand it, and in Ireland It is a mistake." "Everything seems to be calculated to gall and irritate us,' said Aileen, with an indescribable touch of bitterness, for indeed the shadows too evidently Cxosing m upon her unhappy country lay heavily upon her sensitive soul. "I don't know what will be the 10 146 H Son ot jErfn [iL Hi': H: if! ! end of it, but fear the worst. Denis told us you. had gone to Glendalough. I hope you enjoyed the walk." " I did. It is a most enchanting spot." " I think so, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen," she answered, readily. " Did you go as far as Ballymore .? " " Yes, I was in the house itself." " Indeed," she said, with a quick glance of surprise, " So you called ? You would not see Mr. Lyndon,' because he was in Dublin this morning." " I did not see him in the house, but I met him out of doors," said Fletcher. "I had a long talk with Mr. Terence. He is a fine boy!" " Ah, yes. It would be a happy thing for Bally- more if Terry had been born the elder brother. But there, we have no control over these things. Have you much to do this evening ? I brought some new songs from Dublin, and I can let you hear them if you like." Fletcher flushed with pleasure, and was for the moment at a loss what to say in reply. He did not always understand the moods of Aileen Byrne— one day she would speak so little that she seemed scarcely cognisant of his existence, while another she would be the frank, cordial, delightful woman she had been in the first hour of their acquaintance. " Did you see Lady Lyndon at Ballymore } " asked Aileen when they had been in the drawing-room some time, and Fletcher had listened to the new songs. At the question his face lost for a moment its pleasant and peaceful look " Yes, I saw her, Miss Byrne ; but I thought that she resented my appearance, so I left immediately." from out tbe past ,^, your own accord )--' '"'""'=<">•• "Did you call of thil^° r ^ ''r" "°' •'^"^ ^'^'""^d °f doing such a i3:'brutrp,i:rr;::?:."^^^*°'''^''°- ^ "DidyouCepottvid;*;" ^"'='="- '^'■"' ''"'--t. favour!^ of "i^e ^ t ,o ^^g; ' h 1"^ I' ^"'"^ * calling to see her." ^ Glendalough without aift'cfio'n of you"' "' ""<■ ^^""^^ -"' '"e greatest -"X^Js^.sThep^^:t":ir,r' — ■' ^ " She wa, n„f '^l "'*" Siri I have ever seen." deeming ir^ Jent nl J"""''" •^"^""='' P'^'^^-. whathe^adCnt thTwl°drrB"a,r "^' ^ '"" times he had fancied thirM ss Bvrn"'^ ''' """ personally interested in fL ^ **^ somewhat -ore.and\„ ,Tt 3\l'Z°"n^,H'r'" °' ^^"^• be better not to make any ^oub.e '.r'"' " "°"" thnkinff that if th^ p^« ^rouDJe. I came away would bVa ve ytrd ^nr'-^'^' '^'"^ ^"^"^^ °"^ ^^ „ T ./ -^ "^^° ^"^ "njust case." momenltlierthafMrT h"* ' ''°"'' '^^">' <•" « thing of the s^rt r«II \ ''."ff " "^"^ "any Mr. Moran hraeen V. H ' "'P"'" ' """"^ "''«"'= himself. Did th^wLv .-"T-*'? ""'• ^^"''°" sive.'" ' ""'" '° "e at all apprehen- "V^ry much so." answered Fletcher. "She told I4S B Son ot TBvin 111 mn lli^ii \ii 1 1 lii me that her son had gone to Wicklow to consult a lawyer in his own itcrests." "Well, I am glad to hear that, because Ted, as ?. rule, is a law to himself," said Ailcon, with much satisfaction. "And now, come, tell me what Lady Lyndon said to you ? You must not think me too curious ; but I know that she can be very disagreeable when she likes, though why she should have been disagreeable to you 1 don't exactly see." " She struck me as being a very proud and haughty woman," said Fletcher, "and, of course, in her eyes I should rank little above the position of a servant." " Oh, not quite sp bad as that," said Aileen depre- catingly. " Of course, she is very proud, you know ; she is a daughter of Lord Bantry's. They have a great domain in the south, but are very poor. I don't suppose she would have married Sir Tom at all, only that she believed him to be much richer than he actually was. He was a most charming man, and his death was an irreparable loss to Glendalough. We shall never cease to mourn him. Had he been alive, or had it been his first wife who was left a widow, matters would have been very different in Ballymore. She was a very dear friend of my mother's. I have a photograph of her here I can let you see." She unlocked a bureau in the corner and took from it an old shabby leather portfolio which she seemed to handle with tenderness. " There are some of my mother's treasures here," she explained, " some of the things she prized beyond anything. They are just as she left them. The first Lady Lyndon was her dearest friend. They were girls at school together, and were unspeakably happy that the first years of their married life were spent so near each other. Poor Lady Lyndon Mfi fvom out tbe past ,49 had only three years' happiness, however, and she died when her child was born. There she is, is i^ not a sweet face ? " * Fletcher took the old faded daguerreotype in his hand with an almost reverential touch. It represented a young, sweet, girlish face, with round, soft cheeks and gentle, lovely eyes. It was a happy fac ~ . smile seemed to lurk about the corners of the m >bile u.>uth. Fletcher felt fascinated by it, and could sea coy tak( his eyes off it. There was nothing familiar in iW- fea! ^res and yet it seemed to him as if he must have _.>en it in his dreams. "She is not so handsome as the present Lady Lyndon, you will easily see that. She was a different type of woman," observed Aileen. "Although Sir Tom married in what was thought to be most indecent haste, he never forgot his first wife or ceased to mourn her. No one really ever knew how he came to marry again so quickly. It happened after a visit he made to Lord Bantry's in the autumn after his wife died ; but he never was the same man after it." "The child died, I suppose.?" said Fletcher, still keeping his eyes fixed on' the likeness in his hand " No, he didn't— that was the strange part of it He disappeared, and his nurse with him, about six months after the present Lady Lyndon came to iiallyniore. They disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed them, and have never been heard of from that day to this. There are a good many who did not hold Lady Lyndon guiltless in that strange affair, though nothing could be proved. She asserted at the time, and has all alontr ann^ar'^'i to h-'-— - -»--- they were drowned in the lake at Glendalough ; but It was dragged from end to end, and it is certain that ISO B Son ot Brtn '■■■■ hi4 1 1 154 a Son of 36rin 'if " Gaffney says we have no power." said Ted, suddenly throwing himself back in his chair and looking his rfJ" -r^u'^" ^"'"- " "" '^y '^' ^^"d i« Lyndon's, and that if his tenants don't pay he's within his roights to evict them, and get somebody that will pay. Now what's to be done ? " ^ ^ ' "What is to be done ?" repeated Kitty, faintly, for she saw a most terrible determination in Ted's face and knew too well what was passing in his mind. "Therr are two things to be done, Kitty." he said, steadily. First, we can clare out afore the sheriff comes ; then second, we can bide in our houses and say we won't go out, and foight for our roights to the death. "But of what use would it be at all, at all .? " asked Kitty, mournfully. "You know how it was iu Monaghan when I was there. The soldiers came • and what chance would a few farmers have against them ? It was the hopelessness of the whole thing that made uncle go out quietly, because he did not want to see any bloodshed." " ^^f'^^'' y?" "'^"^ > c^^l things be their roight names," said Ted, fiercely. « I have got my moind made up on wan point, that is, if the boys are agreed If we do have to quit we'll give whoever comes to put us out a peppery welcome. We'll make it hot for them and wan day. as certain shure as I am speaking to yez, as sure as there is a God above us. I'll have my revenge on Lyndon of Ballymore" "Oh, hush Ted!" said Kitty, with a shudder. Remember who has said—' Vengeance is mine. I will repay.'" ^^^" He has forgotten us, Kitty." said Ted. sullenly. X ve ificd to ao my duty all these years. I've lived Mitbout ftope 155 a dacent, self-respectin' life, and I've kept myself Clare even av the drink, and what better am I this day than any wan av the boys that have taken their fill of enjoyment ? Not a whit. I am tired of it. It's ten years an' more since I had a bit av heartenin', and a man can't go on for ever." " I think things will improve," said Kitty, desperately. Somehow I feel sure it won't come to the worst." " You've got no grounds for your assurance, Kitty " he answered, promptly. "As shure as we're sinin' here now, if the rints are not paid up to the utterr Dst farden next wake, we'll be put out of house and home. Its the poor ould mother I'm thinkin' on. Kitty it'll be her death." ' ^' ^^ " Oh, it will," cried Kitty, in a great burst of sorrow. I see It m her face every day ; she'll never recover it." Its these things that have sint the iron into me sowl, said Ted. "There's to be a meeting at 'The Harp to-morrow evening to consider what's to be done so there's no use saying much about it till then though I could almost swear that there's hardly a boy among them will submit tamely to be turned out like brute beasts to the fields. If there's to be evictions on Ballymore they'll be lively evictions. Kitty Roonev • something that'll be a world's wonder." ' "Oh, Ted, ye'll gain nothin' by that, but only the gaol maybe If we must leave Arraghvanna, then we must! Wed best go quietly. Down in Wicklow or even in Dublin, you could get somethin' to do— drivin' a car, if nothin' else -" "I'll niver droive a car in Dublin or Wicklow stra es, Kitty Rooney. If I can't droive me own „a^ 1 11 let thim alone," answered Ted, sullenly. « I saw Pat Finnigan as I came by ' The Harp,' an* he sez '■sssKmnmus!: ■ '56 a ^on of iBvin 'it' ~f that if only we put a bould front on U- h^ ^u- i moight bate the evicters back" ''''"^^ ^" a Lf '^^ °"^.'°"'' ^'"^ "^^^•^ '^« "^^^t day with a iot more soldiers or police- TeH" ..;a i,. shrewdly, .^and we'd be Irst' oILntfo^^'K' wonder you would pay any attention to „tt P,; F.nn.gan would say. Everybody know. he>s a ,= you Ted I doni think anybody could bLme th. squo.re .f he put Pat out of iiathlow. I am shu„ Vd have sent him about his busin.;.; i. „, aeo ••But though Pat Finniga,, ,.^^Tdrop Kittv hat doesn't affect the q„esho-, at all at all 1^' ^nd P.t ses we could get help from Wexford and h^ fcnows »me chaps that would come out from Dublta if we'd but say the word." °''" " Oh, I Wnow." said Kitty, with a shiver " T suppose he manes thim Invincibles that heralwavs talkm' about, a lot av cut-throats I r»li M- ^^ nothing else." '*" *>m, an' by"Kittrl'r""'"'f "^™" *«>"«» ">emselves by, Kitty, as long as they are brave boys an' not af a.d of a ..edcoat or a peeler's baton. FaUh an' I'd ra her o.ke it meself. We could make a rcgu Lr Siege of Derry up here, and it would give some ff 1 le^ ^em^^ "' "'' "^ '" °" "-■^^ ^W Z slee^^at' m"lV"t'''J''"^ P^"''- ^he could not Sleep that night. She knew that the very worst side of her brother's nature was roused, and shTgreaUv over him. Now. while there were m . deceit --.-i working men such as Ted Rooney"on the Sy^t" d ^ we TKIlitbout Ibope 157 estate, there were others like Pat Finnigan— lazy drunken ndcontents-who did nothing but stir up s^nfe, and t>y to incite their neighbours to rebellio,!^ No man could have blamed any landlord who tried to nd his estate of such dangerous loafers. Kitty had long been accustomed to listen to the empty ravings of l^t aiid those like-minded with him. They were devoid of any sense of justice or right, and were brelth':" 'r '""' '" '^^ ^"' ""'''' -^'^ ''^ -^ the land Ted dressed himself and went off immedi- ately after breakfast, not saying what were his in- tentions. Kitty had no manner of doubt but that he had gone to organise the meeting to be held in the evening, and as she went about her household duties her heart was heavy within her with the sense of approaching evil. Her mother was veiy ill that day- too 111 either to rise or to express much interest in the probable course of events. Kitty felt almost reheved that it was so, because she felt Wf it would InAl u ',° ^^"^ '^^ °^^ ^°"^^"'« questionings, and had she known what was in the wind she would excTtement.'"^ ^"''"^^ "^ '"'° ' ^'"^'^°"^ ^^^^^ °f Ted did not come in for dinner, and after she had made everything straight and tidy for the afternoon, and saw that her mother had fallen into a sound sleep pu ttmg the key .in her pocket. She wished to pay a little visit on her own account, which would mf 4e "" Vr^ *j?.S ^^^^§^»^^^""a longer than half an~hour. Father O Hagan lived alone with his old house- 158 a Son ot Erin keeper in a small unpretentious house within a stone's throw of the church in which he had ministered so long. Kitty knew the father dined at two o'clock and as it was then only half-past the hour she hoped to find him at home. She was not disappointed. " I houp your poor mother is no worse, Kitty," said the housekeeper as she admitted her. ^ " She is not much better, Bridget," answered Kitty but It's not that I want to see his riverence about' Just tell him, if ye plase, that I won't keep him a minute, and that it's important." "That I will, darlint." said Bridget obligingly, and left Kitty standing in the little hall while she took the message to her masten. " Plase to walk in," she said when she came back and Kitty entered the dining-room, already feeling a sense of relief at the thought that she would soon shift the responsibility to abler shoulders than her own father O'Hagan had just finished his frugal meal, and was sitting back in his high oak chair enjoying the half-hour's rest which was the only indulgence he permitted himself in his long and busy day. "Well, my daughter, what can I do for you ?" he said kindly. " I hope your mother does not require my services." ^ " Oh no, thank you, father, I left her asleep. It's sonriething else I want to spake to ye about. Do ye really think that the squoire will carry out the evictions next wake ? " The kindly face of Father O'Hagan instantly became clouded " I am afraid there can be no doubt about It. I have done my best, my child ; but Mr. Lyndon will not listen to me. and her ladyship is still more inexorable. What have you to say about it ? » CHAPTER XX IN COUNCIL ITTY hesitated only a moment, scarcely knowmg how to unburden her soul of the load which lay upon it. Father T.^ " ^^^ ^T ^'^ ^" '" ^ ^^^"ble way, a se„s,ble course. All I have heard about Mr H„^h Oaffn^has convinced me that he wouW only advie Ted for h,s good. Well, what was the result /- Oh, Uncle Hugh said there was nothing Ted could ut rfhrei: ° He'f ""■ ■\*^- ^^""''"^ -"^ ™ should have nobody to work for m " gu ycc agam to Ballymore and try if I 159 i6o a Son ot Erin If"' 1 kJ i 1^ can touch their hearts to the distress of th* people. I think myself it is a cruel shame that you, who have been in Arraghvanna so long, should even be threatened with such a thing. But there, these are hard and bitter times in which we live, and many things happen which we cannot understand." "But I came to tell you something more, father" said Kitty, quickly. " Ted is in a terrible way, as I told you ; but he is not so bad as some of them, and there's to be a meeting t;j-night in • The Harp.' When I tell you that Pat Fnnigan is at the bottom of it, and that he has been talking and talking— oh, you know how he talks, your riverence— he has even said that he could bring men from Wexlbrd and from Dublin to help to fight the evicters. Oh, if only this meeting could be stopped I am shure it would be better for us all." At this information Father O'Hagan betrayed the liveliest interest. " I am very much obliged to you for coming and telling me this, Kitty. I was afraid of something of the sort. I saw Pat this morning drive off in hi' car just after breakfast, and I thought ^re v. iS too i. uch alertness and energy about him altogether. I said to myself that he was up to no good ; b"; *hough I have been about the glen all the morning, I have never heard a hint or a whisper of such a thing. Have yoi any idea what hour the meeting is to be held .? " " No ; only I know it's to be to-night a ' T' e Harp,' unless they've chanr^ed their plans. Cor d y^a go, father ? I am shure that if you were there you would keep Pat a;va those loike him from leading away dacent boys. As I said to Ted last night, he'll eain nothing by joining himself to Pat Finnigan and his Tot." .^n Council jg, "Faith, you are right there Kitf^r" - -j r^ . O'Hagan. fi.led with admiratrn' for h ' ''^'' good sense « I h;,H n^ !» ^^'^ courage and broad a„Tse„s/b. li.": ;f ^h^" '^^'I'f "^"^ ^ be there, and I a. ve/n,u ^obliged to Cr^ giving me the infonnation " ^ 5^°" '°' ril'b?go"n<.';om;''Trej: kindly," said Kitty, "then f-^1 • • . ^ ^^" ^y mother asleeo anH tmi J^Uisier .„ my mi„a „o. that ye icno. w1^r?„' 4e anxious gM his blessing. alioweVheH; de^arf'"' ""' The Harp of Erin." the little hostelX under the Norrrn "^fi^pt^orettef • ^-''" ^t^'thtLtre: ",„|!r ::'rr° "■'^'-' ^-^ whom business or pleasu ! Ih, T T"^ '"^^"^'•^ Sd h^rn-V^- Ma,r ::hfrasr!,i5 Nora was his only child, and in these hi d ^l Tu H f3t^>Ar'o k 1 ^ °' *"® '■^^^ amount of her .0 sfand in^teTar^oI^ '' The^ HaToTtn -?C mommg to night dispensing her father's warls toT II '!!• l63 a Son of £rin IP if ill II HI herself, and never allowed a rude or light word to be spoken in her presence. About eight o'clock, after the moo- had gone down any one watching with an object in view might have seen a good many men arriving singly, or in twos and threes, at " The Harp " and slinking through the wicket at the side make for the meeting-room in the garden Father O'Hagan, who had had an evening engagement in a neighbouring parish, did not get back to Wendalough until nearly nine o'clock. It was his habit to walk everywhere, not even keeping a pony for his own use. Every penny of his modest stipend except what was necessary to supply his simple needs! was spent upon the poor in his parish, and the number of the necessitous seemed to increase year by year. On this night, however. Father O'Hagan had borrowed a pony from his brother in the neighbouring parish, and rode with considerable speed back to Glendalough. Outside " The Harp " he alighted, and giving the pony in charge of one of the lads who were always to be found hanging about the door of the tavern he bade him take it up to the manse stable for the night ; then he stepped into the bar where Nora, serene, smiling, unconscious as usual, was sitting industriously at her knitting. "Oh, your riverence," she said, dropping him a little curtsey. « we don't often see you of an evening Perhaps you have come a long way. Can I get you something?" • ^ "No. nothing, thank you, Nora. I am come on a different errand. There's a meeting behind to-night isn t there ? » he asked, bluntly. Nora flushed guiltily.' and for the moment scarcely knew how to answer] because she had strict injunctions from her father to Sn Counca ,53 she" Xts'iJS;' trS Vou. Hvcnce, knew av it" "' *^'"'^ any one there was no use keen.W k , answered, seeing w»s here just thL minu/e ^, back anything. "Father Wicklow had not arrived?. ^"^ '""'■ "'^"'"y f'"™ the^blck^SS tte°trd:n''rH"."^ ''r^'' "'™"^'' a Wicklow man. one o? the H . / ^'Carthy was Ine windows of thf» ,-«« darkened, and the door was 2,^^^ J"'''='°"'''y O'Hagan. however, did not le itat = ^ "'• ^''"'" knock at the door He "^^''ate a moment, or even «>ft hand, and fi„din/h!n, r''' '.'' ^°^''"- "'"'h ^ which .he^•nnt dot^wa 7so shut h'''"'' ■""' "P°" moment as some one wls^am gt ^thtrTl^d f" ^ In a moment he recognised ft J I, • ™"^^- Fmnigan. and it interested hfm T- ^'°"g'"g «° Pat to that worthy's prerta^onT^e'^carTt' .'any ^Z 'Z^'""^ ^'^^^ He teidr .agS indeed^ ! weap'n'which FatCoi" ''°^"f"" '« endure more than once ^'" ''*'^ ''^'' '° «A« irsi~r i:!" g^^td'r "-h ^^ ^^^'■"^' » oe ground to powder under the ((?"■*»" * I'M ( (I 164 B Son ot Erin m- heel av Lyndon av Ballymore, or are we freemen, who have as good a roight to live as him ? That's the quistion we have to settle to-night — at least wan av thim. Another is whether we're goin' to sit down calmly and let our homes be pulled about our ears, as they're doin' ivery day in Monaghan an' Kerry an* Connemara ? By the Howly Virgin, * No ' say I ! " " No ! no ! " his audience cried in chorus, and there was a unanimous waving of stout blackthorn sticks in the air. Father O'Hagan lost the next few words, for that moment the outer door opened, and a man whom he recognised as Dan McCarthy, from Wicklow, pushed his way in. The priest gave him a civil good- evening, noting at ' the same time the look of surprised chagrin on his face ; then, pushing open the inner door, they entered together. A cheer was raised at sight of M'Carthy, for whom they were anxiously waiting.;. They did not, however, look so well pleased to see Father O'Hagan, though they had too much respect for him to show it. Pat Finnigan, who stood on the little platform, and was getting waimed to his subject, so that his shock of red hair was pushed in all directions, looked distinctly crestfallen at sight of the priest, and stopped short in his harangue. "Go on, Patrick," said Father O'Hagan, good- naturedly. " When I heard of this meeting I thought it my duty to put in an appearance, though I have done so at great personal inconvenience. But the matters you have met to discuss affect the welfare of the whole glen, and I think you will admit that I am second to none in my solicitude for that." " Yes, yes, yer riverence," they cried more cordially, for not a man among them could deny him that 5n Council 165 interest m face of half a lifetime of :.nselfish labour in their midst. Father O'Hagan glanced over the score or so of men present, and at last descried Ted Rooney sitting on a bench in the background with his arms folded across his chest, and his face weanng the look of gloom which had become almost habitual to it during the last year or two. Encouraged by the applause of his audience, and perhaps goaded on by a little bravado to show Father O'Hagan that he stood in no awe of him, Pat Finnigan continued his harangue. " I will not be namin' no names, boys," he went on "but ivirybody knows thim as has toiled early and late m their hungry places, how they've built the out-houses, an' put new roofs on thim, an' kept thim m repair, and put in manure, an' done ivirythine the landlord should do—but won't. An ivirybody knows thim that has paid their rint honestly whin they had it ; ay, often denying thimselves an' wife an' children mate and dhrink so that that debt should be paid. An' all what for .? Only that the landlord may have more money in his pocket to spind, finer clothes to wear, an' a softer bed to lie on. All that's been goin' on for years, an' nobody here can deny a word av what I'm saying'," here he glanced rather defiantly at Father O'Hagan— "an' now, instead o' bein grateful to thim as has done all this for land as IS not their own, or tratin' them wi' common dacency, what's goin' to happen.? Because some av US have come to the bottom av our pockets, an' have no^ more gold to hand over to thim horse-leeches, were to be turned out like beasts to the field Is rhac roight, or just, or Christian, your riverence ? Ihats what weve met togither to-night to discuss." lb :fi ' i ■ ■■ i ^ *■■ M !- !« ■ij f 3 hi H>: i66 a Son of Erin Pat glanced round triumphantly as he finished his peroration, as if challenging any one to contradict or deny what he had said. But nobody did. "Mister McCarthy has come all the way from Wicklow to sympathise wid us, boys," said Pat, who appeared to be the spokesman-in-chief of the assembly. « Will he come up now an' let us hear the welcome sound av his voice > " McCarthy glanced expressively at Father O'Hagan before mounting to the platform. He was bitterly disapppointed at seeing him there. The priest of Glendalough was well-known throughout Wicklow for the moderation and catholicity of his views. Justice to all men was his , motto, and though the larger share of his sympathies were undoubtedly with the poorer members of his flock, he would not join in the general condemnation of landlords simply because they happened to be landlords. Nay, he endeavoured to give every man his due. "I see friend M'Carthy is not at all sure of me," he said, with a good-humoured smile. "But if he has reason and justice on his side he should not fear the face of man." CHAPTER XXI SMOULDERING FIRES *CARTHY was a man of education, and had sat for some time as member for one of the smaller constituencies of the South. 1-r 1- J , ^"t the notorious immorality of his private life had fed to his defeat, and he had never obtained another seat. It was a bitter disappointment to him and he revenged himself by hatching as much trouble as possible behind the scenes. Towards Parnell he cherished a mortal hatred, and at the time of which we presently write was doing everything in his power to undermine his influence with the Irish party. Father O Hagan knew him well by repute, but now met him Vu !''l *'"'^- "^ ''"^"^ something of his methods, and had often read reports of his fiery speeches made at the Land League meetings. He was therefore quite prepared for what he was to hear. " Gertlemen," said Mr. McCarthy, *" I have much pleasure m coming here to-night to say a few words at a meetng which is not convened a minute too soon. Ihe sane sort of meetings are being held all over our ^^, -„....„..^- — „, xytvne, in iViayu, in Galway— not a ounty has escaped the terrible devastating touch 167 168 B Son of £rin I of our tormentors and our tyrants. I am, as you know, a native of Wicklow, and am familiar with beautiful Glendalough, which was once the garden of Ireland, breathing nothing but peace and plenty and smiling contentment. That was in happier days, which we dare only recall now to contrast with the sordid and awful misery of present times. Gentle- ■aen, I say we have been patient, resigned, oppressed too long; and, if I understand the object of this meeting at all, it is to make a protest against bygone apathy, and an earnest of more courageous and manly conduct in future. Gentlemen, the word slave is one calculated to stir the blood of every freeborn man and woman. It is associated with indignity and shame and degradation, yet I say here, as I have said else- where, ay, as you know, even on the floor of the English House of Common— so called by conrtesy a chamber of justice, yet where justice and honour have long since hidden their diminished heads— I jay here, that in this year of grace eighteen hundred and seventy- nine, the Irish nation are a nation of slaves, ground under the heel of the English oppressor, and of Irish- men who are English at heart, and therefore triitors to the land of their birth. Take the estate of Balymore, for instance, the tenantry on which are fully represented here. In old Sir Tom's time— I see, gentleman, you remember Sir Tom kindly, and it will harm no one if we give a cheer for his memory." Here he paused, and the cheer was heartily given. Father O'Hagan sat still, no longer wondering at the rugged power this dissolute orator exercised ovei those whom he addressed. He was without doubt a sudent of human nature, and had been quick to discern the relaxed faces and the softening eyes at mention of Sir SmouI^crfnQ mvcs 169 Tom Lyndon, so he played upon their feelings, and won more earnest attention to his next words. Had old Sir Tom Lyndon been alive now I will concede that this meeting would never have been hdd prr; hiioe" f" fT ^^'^ --"^-tion in "; power to his people, and cheerfully suffered with them His son, however, is of a different breed. You all know Uare and get the Bantiy character first hand. Then he has ..en educated in England, and is English !n every act.on of his life-I had almost said eve^ry fib e of his being. He has had a long minority, and he ! richer, I have no doubt, than any landLd in the r?hL: "I'^'T- /^' '•^ ""' ^'"'- - co-Id at on to those whom hard times and famine and potato their all. His agent and mouthpiece, Moran makes no bones about his terms. ■ Pay or quit ' is S motto I have been informed that during thh week noti«s to quit have been served on no less than seven tenants o„ he Ballymore estate." Here he named them in tur^ from a s^all slip of paper in his hand. « I have not yet heard particulars of all these cases, gen.lemJ C ]:Zrlr''Z' *^' ^" ^^ '>one;t'hard-w:rki- g had ^' o, ^r P*^ ^ '■"''■ '•^"' cheerfully if they had ,t. Ol the case of Mr. Edward Roonev o^ Arraghvanna. I do happen to know somethin'L I quit has n. ""T 'T'"'""^ ""'"S 'h»" this notice to coltrv The P™ "°r " '"^ "'"^'« ^'-'-'^ "f 'W^ vearf; A if°°"'^' '''™ ''''" ^ *"''^^'Cd »nd fifty yea s m Arraghvanna, and more thrift- sober hard aT ::^ "aTi-.-i:' -^ f-"''- «'■ Koo^Vt; 3..a inuiui iiiocher, alao a fatherless sktor depending on him. What is to become of tS. when '"••'nHmfrnmUl'mm 170 a Son ot Erin ™pH ■ they are turned out of the house which is theirs by every right of justice ? Die by the roadside if they like— what cares my Lord of Lyndon, so long as he has good money in his pocket to pay for his pleasures. Gentlemen, I have also been informed that it is his intention, aided and abetted by that traitor, Timothy Moran, to apportion his estate after the English plan — in large holdings — perhaps, who knows, to English- men. Gentlemen, are you going to sit down quietV and let these things be ? " '• No, no," they cried, with a tremendous cheer, and ihe blackthorn sticks were brought into requisition again. " The time has come for action. We are not lovers of war for its own sake ; but there comes a time when peace is synonymous with shame. Gentlemen, I hold that the time has come for the oppressed sons of the land to rise against the English rule ; and also against those of her own blood who are traitors to her, and who oppress her to the very dust. You don't need me to tell you that this conviction has been growing steadily all through Ireland, and that good men and true, driven mad by their wrongs, are steadily preparing themselves for conflict. If necessary, these men will come to the help of Wicklow and of Glendalough, so that a blow may be struck for liberty, and justice, and right. If these wicked and horrible evictions be carried oat on Ballymore, we shall not sit quietly by without striking a blow in self-defence. I- " At this moment Father O'Hagan rose hurriedly from his seat, and pushed his way through the excited throng. He was evidently labouring under strong excitement himself; he pushed McCarthy aside with one sweep of his hand, and faced the meeting. He SmouI^crft1a iPtrcs 171 was very pale ; but his eyes, which had so long beamed with good W.11 upon Glendalough and its people, were blazing with righteous anger. ^ f , " Don't listen to him, friends-sedition and poison drop from his tongue. I am an old man. I have gone in and out an-.ong you for over forty years sharing ,n your joys and sympathising with your griefs' I have seen the night closing in upon your homes- but all hope IS not extinguished yet. If you act upon the wicked advice given you by this man, who, believe me, has no end to serve by it but his own, you will IT IrT !,'^ ^'l' ^^y °' y°"^ ''^'' Hitherto the folks of Glendalough have been God-fearing and law- abiding, setting an example to a whole county. Do not I implore you, break that godly record-do not put yourselves in the power of the police. The arm of the law ,s like a vice, and the man who has been in prison IS never the same man again. Therefore, I say listen to him no more, but rather to me, who have your best interests at heart. These hard times will Wow over; the Lord will not forget those who keep Hs law, and you can well leave your oppressors to Him who has said—' Vengeance is mine » ' " He paused overcome by his emotion, which com- municated itself to the whole meeting. He had a great power over them by reason of his long and faifhfu ministry in their midst. Somehow the heart seemed to be taken out of the meeting, and McCarthy saw that his inflammatory speech had been robbed of its intended effect. The meeting slowly dispersed, and after speaking privately, but not less impressively to one or two of the chief farmers Father O'Hagan went ;""""->^,;" '"•= ""^nse. he had some hope that his words would not be without effect ; but no sooner was tja a Son of jEtin he at a safe distance from " The Harp of Erin " than the meeting was quickly reorganised, and his wise advice was forgotten. About midnight Ted Rooney returned to Arraghvanna. Kitty, filled with a consum- ing anxiety, had not undressed, but merely thrown herself on the top of the bed, where she snatched some fitful sleep until she heard her brother's foot on the threshold. Then she hastily entered the little kitchen She saw at once that he was not only much excited but had drunk more than was good for him. It was well for Ted Rooney that he had hitherto kept him- self a sober man, because his nervous excitable tem- perament was such as drink influences beyond all bounds. "Ye are very late, ted; it's afther twelve," said Kitty, reprovingly. " Shure, an' what if it be afther wan, asthore. so we get everything sittled up and the plan av cam- paign arranged," he inquired with bantering bravado Kitty shuddered at the words, which she recognised as a stock phrase among the agitators, from whose ranks she had tried so hard to keep her brother during the last few years. " What was the matin' about, Ted ? Sit ye down an tell me iviry mortal thing. I'm dyin' to hear it all." "I can't do that, Kitty, for we're pledged to secrecy," said Ted. « But when Moran an' the peelers come to evict, they'll find something they didn't reckon for." « »'r7°"'" ^'" ""^^ '^^^' ^"^ "^°*^«^ too." said Kitty. Whats the use av tryin' to fight thim. They've only got to send to Wicklow for the soldiers, an' it's an up vvlu US. Smoul&ering Sites ,,3 ul'^f- !"'• """'" '""•" '*'" T=d. with the maudlia ^ lead ""°"=''*'°"' -^ Kitty's heart grew as hea"; " Perhaps something '11 happen yet to sthop thim- the evictions, I mane," she said, desperately. " I can't belave it'll all happen." ^ *" ' " It will, honey. Moran has got his orders, an' as shure as we are livin' now, next Wednesday v^eTrbe put out of Arraghvan„a-at least if they can : that's to be seen yet, Kitty." ^ ' " "Well, I'm going to bed, Ted," said Kitty shivering again. "Mother's been very poorlv aH evenin'. If she's no better to-morrow you'lhave to about nine o'clock she looked loike death " ^ Ted, however, was too much muddled with drink ?ult wLT?"^ '™"'? "^'"^ ^™"'"g tocompreh nd fully what she was saying; and he only looked at her stupidly as she bade him good-night and went to Ld „,.! . '™"'"^ *' "'" d^'-'^^ing Kitty stole out and made her way to the little dell in the Ballymore rtird'^'^^e;': H^' '''' "^^' ^^--' "™- -^ IJ ■ u i'*'' ^°"^ '° Rathdrum to another meeting m the Avon inn ; her mother, who slep tso mu h „o„, appeared to be quiet for the night, and ve?iittlf : ''r-^°»\='«ke to play. She betrayed wa at tl/ / . '''' "u *""'" "^'""'- Lyndon was at the trysting-tree before her, and to his rn-^rifatrmfn:. ''' "^ '''--' -^ '°-^ paiy°"..T'^''' ?'"•""?• °'- '^ " °nly I who am im- h™;"Le.»" "''"■ " ' ^^^^ " "^^^ *«- -'«'"g H iM 't 174 a Son of Erin i wSm " I come when I can," she answered, enigmatically, and she leaned against the fallen trunks, keeping them, however, between her lover and herself. •' Well, what is the decision ? " he asked, eagerly. " I hear there was a meeting in ' The Harp ' last night, and all sorts of rumours are abroad. Have you any news to give me ? " " None," answered Kitty, and her sweet lips shut firmly. " Then are there to be evictions or not ? — that's the question we, or rather you, have got to settle to-night, Kitty." " You won't stop them without — without — I go wid you ? " she said, falteringjy. • He shook his head. " I can't. Father O'Hagan was ?^ promised to think over it. I did thing depended on you. If you me — it's nothing less I'm asking you, Kitty — I can tell his reverence his good counsels have prevailed ; then there will be no suspicion. I don't think any- body has ever seen us together, except that fellow Fletcher — confound him ! — but I don't think he'll say anything " " It won't matter after — after — I'm away," said Kitty. " But, oh, it's me poor ould mother ! It'll be the death av her entirely ! " " Not a bit of it. Just think of her joy and pride in you when you come back the Lady of Ballymore.' Kitty shook ^er head. She was too full of fore- bodings to be dazzled by the prospect. " If — if I promise to go wid you, and marry you, you'll stop the evictions for sure ? " she said, fixino^ her eyes keenly on his face. me to-day, and I I tall him every- rcmise to marry Smoult)erina Jfircs »7S " What do you take me for, Kitty ? I'm not an out-and-out scoundrel, though I may have my faults. I'll promise you — swear it to you, if you like — that if you come to me, not a man of them will go out. I'll simply tell Moran Father O'llagan has persuaded me to leave matters alone for a time and give them another chance. I'm going to Scotland on Tuesday, Kitty. I've got some bowels of compassion left, and I couldn't fancy the idea of stopping to see the evictions, though they'd be carried out faithfully This visit happens very opportunely. You must folio / me there, Kitty ; or, better still, go before me. You must leave on Monday, and go to Glasgow by ti>e night boat. I'll meet you there next day." IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 ,1 i" I I.I 12.5 1£ 136 Li U 2.2 2£ 1.8 // p> c^

^» ^3 ^ > "> .)^ c^^ ^»'.<. <" ^<^/ w/ o / 11.25 III 1.4 1.6 — ISOmi /APPLIED A IIVMGE . Inc ^ss 1653 East Main Street .^= L Rochester, NY 14609 USA .^S v= Phone: 716/482-0300 .=r-^= Fax: 716/280 5989 1993. Applied Image, Inc., All Rights Reserved i\ i\' a>^ '^ wMfc, If , I: CHAPTER XXII m^ t TRAITOR AT HEART HE Ballymore tenantry had received notice that on Wednesday of the following week those who had paid no attention to the earlier notice about the rent would be forcibly ejected from their holdings. Sunday was a day of subdued but distinctly-felt excitement throughout the whole glen. The atten- dance at the morning mass was much less than usual ; they had other things to occupy their attention, and, besides, all knew that Father O'Hagan would not approve of the share they intended to take in the exciting events of the forthcoming day. The whole of the castle folk were in the Ballymore pew at morning mass, and when it was over Lyndon pur- posely waited behind in order tc speak to Father O'Hagan. Lady Lyndon, who did not really believe that her son had yielded to the priest's softer counsels, fully expected that the original programme would be adhered to. She had laughed at the idea of her son going off to Scotland to escape actual participation in the evictions, about which she had no qualms what- 176 traitor at tbeart 177 soever. She belonged to that particular type of the aristocracy which regards the common people as existmg merely for their use and benefit, and not as human bemgs with rights of their own, and the capacity for suffering. ® As Father O'Hagan bade the young squire good- morning he anxiously scanned his face, as if seeking to gather some hope there for the unhappy people of whom his heart and thoughts were full. " ^^"» I h^Pe you have given heed* to my counsels Mr. Lyndon.^" he said, earnestly. «I have nevl; ceased to pray that you would." At this question Lyndon assumed a becoming gravity, and answered at once. « I have thought of little else, I assure you, father since I saw you on Friday, and I have come to the conclusion that in the meantime I will not press the evictions. *^ " Thank God, thank God ! You will never repret It, my young friend," said the priest in tones of un- speakable relief. '« I felt sure that when you realll gave the matter serious consideration you would hesitate before destroying all the traditions of your house. There has always been good fueling existing ^aTer,/ '"Tr'^^^ P^°P^^- ^"your^mened fathers lifetime I don't think there was a murmur from one end of the glen to the other." "Ah, but, father, times were different then I question very much if my father had lived to 'par- ticipate in these evil days whether he would not ftave taken precisely the same course. But I have med Moran to tell them that another sL muuths grace will be given them to pay up arrears and m the meantime I must think whether something 12 178 H Son ot £cin li iUli It lit cannot be done to better the condition of things so that all parties may have a chance." Father O'Hagan could scarcely believe his ears. He had never heard such moderate words from Tom Lyndon, and he inwardly wondered what good genius had been at work within him to bring about such a happy change. He was too much relieved, however, to seek to inquire too closely into it ; the fact was sufficient for him, and he could not repress his lively feelings of joy and satisfaction. "I trust that there will be no delay in communi- cating the good news to the people, who are expecting something very different," he said. "From what I have been able to gather, although a good deal has been kept secret from me, there was not the least intention of giving in without a struggle. I have heard from private sources that quite a large body of men were coming up from Wicklow, and also some of the Invincibles, I believe, from Dublin." " I daresay it would have been a very hot struggle," observed Lyndon, carelessly. " But, of course, Moran had taken every precaution, and there would be a strong contingency of the Wicklow constabulary, and the military would be within call if necessary ; but in the meantime Glendalough will be saved such lively proceedings. I had arranged to go to Scot- land to my uncle in Argyllshire to-morrow to escape the whole affair. I don't suppose you ever gave me credit for as much feeling, did you, father .? I think that I shall still go on Tuesday or Wednesday. There is nothing doing here just now, and I may as well go until the whole affair blows over." "That is as you please, Mr. Lyndon," answered the priest ; " but when the good news spreads through traitor at ftcart ^^^ Glendalough you will be a welcome ..Vhf . will make. If onlv fKof , . *"^ people priest, sadly « But iThinl .i" *"'" '^"y" '"<^ '^e wi.l be ti>e^.Je"t',atr hriS^p^ t""' "^ seen." ^"^" P^^^ty has ever Good day "^jo you fafht f IT "' ""'"-"'°''"**''- re™ar..irh:^t: i "el.f ^h^L T °^ '"' a gfbe, or was onlv an K 1 ^^'' '* ^^^"tained He w.. hore".'u" ttr^^ r rhrsul:^^"'""- and Lyndo„-stam'o„tb;th?Z'b\'**^" ''°"'=- iunch^ He round his ItiXt™ ofj:;' ""^ ^- 3her.:rr;,r^^f:iru':j::^r°^^^^^^ ~rrrt^yraf"'°---^^^^^^^ from carrying out r".-f ^°'"^ '° *■"''"''" ^oran given him ^" 'nstrucfons you have already "Thafs about it, mother," answered Tom, in- iff iij' i8o a Son of Brin i;, I differently. "I have taken a second thought, and, after all, surely a man is entitled to change his mind." Lady Lyndon made a gesture of impatient dissent. "You are childish, Tom, after having gone so far. It is weak and cowardly to draw back at the last moment. You have destroyed your own position, and you never will have such a chance." " Perhaps not, but I daresay we shall struggle through," he said, in the same indifferent manner, which was extremely galling to her. " After all, it's deuced hard on the poor beggars. It is all very well to talk of evictions in the abstract, but when it comes to the actual fact it makes a man sit up. I am not going to do it in the meantime, anyhow. I have given them a fright which will perhaps improve the situation from my point of view." " You are not fit to have the power, boy," said his mother, sourly. "I only wish it was in my hands instead of yours. I shouldn't show myself such a weakling." ♦* I know that, mother," he said, good-humouredly, and withdrew^ leaving her to her own bitter and angry reflections. Next day it was known throughout the length and breadth of Glendalough that the threatened evictions would not take place. By this time they had got themselves worked up to such a pitch of excitement that the announcement fell like a damper upon certain of the more warlike spirits, especially those who were not anticipating eviction themselves, but were only going to view the lively proceedings from afar. When Ted Rooney first heard the news he could not believe it, and quite early on Monday he drove his old car into Rathdrum to make personal inquires at the Vmltot at Deart .g, agent's office. When !,» «x o'clock in the eve„,d .,■'" "" ''°""' "•""" '°ok than ft had donTfo. I? ""'' " "^PP'" mother, who had recoveL f l^ * "^^J'' "'s haJ caused so much ant"^ 7"' f' ^"^ """ '^Wch able to sit up Tt the t- ch»"/ 'T "'''' ^'^ ^'^ain that she would be allowed M J^"*"' "''^ ** """P" home had made her feel bfttlr f,T,T "?" ''" ''^' "'^ dissatisfied with the sta„ ' ^ '''^- S''^ '^^ Kitty's demeanour She f L" '"'' ""^''^ ""'^'^d hold duties as usual vet * ^"T *'""" •>" house- She had been entS ntl -T'^ """"""? » «">■•<). plan some ^ayTtuTT'^ "'"' ''"^^'f' "Ting to natural manner Sh"td '•""'" '^"^ "'°'"- *" a the Ballymore woods onSund" "'" ^"^ L^'"'°" ■•" said that if she got ckar ^ ''Z™"'"^' ^""^ ^e had Tuesday, it would be «Le^ T ^'^"'"^'o-gh °n intend to leave Ballymore untitw !, ' ^ ''* ^'^ "«' even Thursday, of Z:,^^^^^^' ^r"""^ the idea of slippfng awav L ,^^ ^''™"'' f™™ did she shrink from SJ %? ™'P"'' ^«" '""'ther yet something musT be done" IT '" ="""* "' «"'' thorny path into which poor Kittv rT ' f ^"^^ ^"^ fd she was almost distrL.ht fW 7 ''*'' '"'^J'^''' devise some natural means „f? /' ^^y "y'"^ to Circumstances stran~i" f! T^™ ^rraghvanna. o'clock in the afteS Ih„"1 ''"• ^'»'" «-« Erin » broueht u„ 1^ , °^ ''°"' " The Harp of *- by thf If^e^orp :rn ^T. ''' '''"'^'^ Ted, save one for Kittv »i"^ ^^^ """^ »» for When she opened it ft e^^^^^^ T' u""" """^^^an. opened up for her in a ^n^f tV'^' '"^ ^^ ^^' dow hastily per'usinrthe h T '.'^°°^ '" *^^ ^»n- ^ "^ *^^ ^^d^y written lines, « this is -jri' 1S2 a Son ot levin Ui. bad news from Monaghan. This is a letter from me cousin, Dan. Poor Uncle Timothy is very ill, near death's door, he says, and my aunt would like if I could go down for a day or two. Dan is to be in Dublin to-morrow, and he says if I could meet him there he would take me with him. and that if I don't go he will know that you are too ill to be left." " '^^"> shure, and you can be goin', darlint," said Mrs. Rooney, at once. " I am so much better to-day that I think by to-morrow I shall be up and about again." " I hardly think that, mother ; but you are so much better that I might run down for a day or two perhaps. We'll see what Ted says when he comes home. " It'll be all right, Kitty, me jewel," said Mrs Rooney, cheerfully, « Now that there'll be no evictions Its made a new woman av me, entoirely. I shouldn't wonder now if I was able to get about with the best av ye. But I wish that Ted would come back and tell us for certain." At that very moment his shadow darkened the doorway, and Kitty gathered at once from his face that all was well. "It's all right, mother," he called out. "I've been to Moran, and there'll be no evictions. I can see that he's sore disappointed, and is braithing out anger agin Father O'Hagan. It's his riverence we've got to thank for it all, mother!" "I thought as much, my son," answered Mrs. Rooney. "May the Holy Virgin send him a swate reward, and God rest his sowl for iver and iver " "What's that you are busy about, Kitty.?*" called Zvaitov at "tocatt '83 .ust been wondering whether I col be .pared" H^tlZ'^'Vl^ ^^' ^acesca:?er;.onded. kindred in MonaJZ ^''f '"''"'"'""'"'« >"■«• his moment were 0? .'o"' Z'J" °"" *'^^'« «' ">at excluded eveo-thVng else '""""""" "«" «"«/ and I daresay Mar^ O'Nem wout r'^T- '"""^ = every day." ^""'"^ '°°'f "1 to her should proceed^'to Dublin '^ ''^ "° *°«e, Kitty -^^Vt-**!* ill mm CHAPTER XXIII A JEALOUr HEART N Tuesday afternoon, of a set purpose, Tom Lyndon showed himself at Killane. He arrived about five o'clock in the afternoon, and was received by Aileen in the drawing- room alone. Both good and ill news travel quickly in country places, therefore it was not surprising that the Byrnes were already in possession of all the facts relatmg to the abandoned evictions at Ballymore. Aileen had received many visits from the excited and indignant Terry, and had done her utmost to soothe and quiet the boy's bursting heart. She blamed Tom a good deal, but in her heart of hearts believed that the person who was at the bottom of the whole unhappy business was Lady Lyndon herself. " How do you do, Tom .? " she said cordially. " I didn't think that after this week I should ever see you in this room." "Now, why, Aileen?" he asked, with affected concern. " Oh, well, you know what I told you— that if you had carried out these abominable evictions you would never have been received on a friendly footing here a Sealons tjcart ,gg again. My father had his mind made up on that pent, ,nd even if he hadn't, I should have declined al further acquaintance with you " aecnned all said^he^vTunr" "" '"y^'^^ ■■" y°"^ punishments," self-contained always; a restful and Sant com' pamon no doubt, but lacking in that vanl; which t Now K ttf =°""°'-™- - - woman's cWef charm ^ne fl^h of her" "''•"" °' ^""'"'"^ «"'' ''°™. »nd arnfpupb;anre%-.ranrs:^d^h^° ^^^ =Vrhtin^^™rane^e;rnCrS =ng-rC^:s;-i"ir-E she was of his own order, and could always b"' trust:d to act and almost to speak exactly as migh' be eTO "I am not harsh at all, Tom, and you know it" she answered. .- 1 have never concealed my ^Js on TJ '"I °1 ** '"="°"^- I «"•""< theyZToTribl cruel, wcked, and that those who permit them on he,r estates will be punished for it, as su e as The^e IS a righteous God above us." May?askThn^°"f '''.''""" melodramatic, Aileen. iviay 1 ask who informed you that T},aH,u__r my real intention ? " ^ auuiiaoned 1 86 a Son or Edit " Mr. Fletche- brought us the news yesterday He was walking in the neighbourhood of Glendalough about"?' ^''"'^ '"''''"'"' "'° ^'' ^'"^P'y --J°yed' blade* "'''"*'°" ""^ Fletcher's name Lyndon's brow grew "That fellow Fletcher is always prowling about Glendalough and other places where he has no right to be. Surely your father does not provide him with sufficient work. I think he's a confoundedly meddle- some fellow. At this unexpected and quite uncalled-for outburst Aileen looked up in mild surprise. "To hear you one would think you had some personal animus against Mr. Fletcher, yet I think you have only met him once here, have you not > " .u"7,f ' ^1"* *' "^^^ °"^^ *°° °^'e"- I don't like the fellow ; he's too presuming. You don't keep him in his proper place, that's what's the matter with nim. " yo"';;® quite mistaken/' she said, with a distinct touch of hauteur. •• Mr. Fletcher is a gentleman, and one who will never presume upon any position ; and I will say even more than that— it would be impossible to have a more delightful inmate of a household than he IS My father is constantly congratulating himself upon his good fortune in having met him." " Indeed ! He is fortunate in having wormed him- self into your confidence so quickly, but I am not surprised. Pray, what are his duties here > I don't think I've ever heard them defined." Aileen hesitated a moment. She had known Tom Lyndon all her life, and there had always been a good deal o. familiarity between the two families, but she s ti n ni fli a« sa a Jealous fceart ,87 regarded his remarks as offensive and impertinent, and why he should have conceived such a strong dislike towards a man of whom he had so little knowledge Tom, she said w.th dignity. "You were told when b^ok It ,;' »' "" '° ""^'P ""y '=""- "> -"« h" Tn h. II ^ "^ °" ^P'«"<«d'y. and though I used hoi . ,?u" * f™'P"' °f ereat success for the book. It W.1I be published in March, and I am sure if It does make the success I for one expect, it will father' '" " """'' '° ""'■ ^'^'"•"'^ ''^'" - 'o^" T Zlll * ^!,"\ °'" P'**'*"' partnership, then," said Lyndon, and the sneer did not leave his face. "I heard from Ter^- that he had been over more than once at Avondale. What does he go there for" " Why, because Mr. Parnell asks him, of course" said A,leen shortly. "He thinks very highly of his abiht.es, and he has written some political articles which have attracted a good deal of aften on ca„ assure you Mr. Parnell thinks that Mr. Fie ihe w 11 make his mark some day." "Well I'm sure it's of no consequence to me at all " tunity of g,v,ng him a good kicking. It would relieve my mind and do him a lot of good » nof"^''"i°'"^'V?'*^°" "'•" '" n^y drawing-room and flushed ^'^;'''^i:^ T"' "'^••"^' '- ^-' as I don't findTur comXa^cu^ar ^ "^^' said Well I am quite willing to apologise ie if I have anything to offend you, AifeenT hTL^ ,^4^;' i88 a Son ot Brfn ifii ' I don't want to do that ; but it just sickens me to see an upstart like that on such intimate terms here. I assure you he is playing his cards well ; but let us dismiss this disagreeable subject. I thought you'd be pleased to hear that I had laid your counsels and those of Father O'Hagan to heart, and it's rather dis- appomting to a fellow, especially when he has sacrificed as much as I have done, to be received like this." At this Aileen stared at him in simple amazement. " Well, that is good," she said. " I never heard a more Irish speech than that. Pray, who introduced the disagreeable subject by being as disagreeable as possible ? But there, I forgive you, only don't let me hear any remarks of that kind again. Now let's sit down comfortably and discuss the matter. What does Lady Lyndon say about this sudden change in your plans ? " "Oh, my mother is furious, simply fuiious. In fact she's making it so hot for me that I am going to accept that invitation to the M'Neills I told you I had refused, I am going to Glasgow on Thursday so I really came to say good-bye to-day." " Are you to stay away long ? " " No ; only a few days. I expect to be back early next week." ^ " And you have really made up your mind to leave t.^e people alone until better times come, Tom .?" said Aileen, with an expression of satisfaction on her face. " I am quite sure you will never regret it." Lyndon winced, and slightly turned his head away. Knowing himself a traitor at heart, he felt a passing sense of shame at the praise he so ill deserved. "I am not at all sure what I shall do in the a Jealous ibeart :kens me rms here, •ut let us you'd be isels and ither dis- sacrificed is." jement. heard a troduced ;able as lon't let ow let's What lange in )us. In foing to I you I lursday, ;k early o leave .?" said er face. head i felt a so ill in the 189 future," he answered, rather brusquely ; « but mean- time at least I will let them alone. But, mind you, I don't believe I am acting wisely." "You are showing the quality of mercy, anyhow, to those who are suffering through no fault of their own," she replied, earnestly, « and Terry at least will be overjoyed." " Terry's very soft-hearted ; he ought to have been a girl," answered Lyndon, carelessly. « It is a good thing for himself and the family interests that he i- the younger son. Well, I must go. Good-bye, Aileen; try and not think so hardly of me in future." "I shall never think hardly of you again, Tom," she replied, with much cordiality ; and on such good terms they parted. As he rode slowly down the avenue he met Fletcher full in the face; but only stared at him with that insolent haughtiness he knew so well how to assume, and passed on without the slightest recognition. This' however, did not trouble Fletcher in the least. He had no desire to obtain even a friendly recognition from Lyndon of Ballymore, whom he distrusted and despised ; but each chance meeting seemed to deepen the strange antagonism between them. After he had gone about half a mile on his way Lyndon, evidently taking a second thought, turned his horse's head again, and rode quickly back, passing the gate of Killane, and cantered on briskly to Avondale. He was not certain whether the leader of the Irish party was then at home. He had heard that he was expecting a party for the shooting at a small lodge some miles distant ; he was agreeably surprised there- fore to meet Mr. Parnell a few yards from the house. IQO a Son of Edn til s •is . ill.- 1 II He was walking alone, and appeared, as usual deenlv unversed in tl>ought He greeted £yndon id X but wuhout marked pleasure, and asked l,im to put 1' his hoise and stay for an hour. '" put up " I can't do tliat ; my mother is expecting me I have been to Kil.ane and thought I would^aTand Cork I rr T" ^^'" """ 8'^" demonstration at Cork I scarcely expected to find you alone " i-amell. O Connor and Shaw are here : but thev have gone to Glendalough this afternoon. It ,^ qute possible they may call at Ballymore. ^ nnf'f ' '"'l" ' "?'' ''"'y ''°'"<'' I should be sorry not to see them, although my mother will be delighted to receive them. I suppose you have heard hat I have taken a second thought about my evictions " ,™,.? ^''' '*'" ^^'■"'"' ^ 'f 't «'"« a matter of small moment "I think in the meantime youare wise, and ,t is possible that even the threat mav ■mprove the situation. It will at least prove to you which are the well-doing among your te';,ants. D^d you siy you were going to Killane .' " "No, I have been there ; but is it anything I can do for you it is on my way ? I can easiCd! l^Z the house if you wanted a message sent " rZ?^' "'*"'''• ' °"''' *'*"'«<' '° s« Fletcher, the captains secretary. I can easily send, or perhaps stroll over myself later on." peraaps "Do you find anything in that fellow.? "he asked with apparent indifference, and yet he was himself . Anything ,n him .' Well, if you want a frank opinion, I think he's one of the comine mer!^^ ,nsl^-- Pamell with unwonted frankness. " Ryder MuUins il, deeply cordially, put up me. I call and ation at nswered ut they is quite a Sealous ttcavt 191 has just resigned his seat in Tyrone, and I want young Fletcher to contest it. Well, if you won't stay. /^ bid you good-afternoon. Give Lady Lyndon mv ytt "HTh'T* "°"'^ ^'^^ ^°^^ ^-"- o^f be hoped matters will improve before his politUl opmions are developed, or he will give us lively'tim s e sorry flighted that I I?" itter of ou are t may to you Did I can up to ir, the Jrhaps asked imself )ly. frank vered ullins H CHAPTER XXIV A GREAT UPLIFTING BOUT eight o'cldck that evening a messenger summoned Fletcher from Killane to Avon- dale. He felt some natural curiosity, and even an inward trepidation, over the probable reason for the summons, but no suspicion of what was about to occur entered Fletcher's mind. During the last few weeks he had been once or twice at Avondale, and had spoken with the leader of the party several times out of doors. During these interviews he had been distinctly conscious more than once that he had been drawn out to speak at some length on the question of absorbing interest to them both. Fletcher was naturally reticent by nature, but, so strong was the influence of the leader's mind upon him, that he had spoken with a frankness which sur- prised no one more than himself. Parnell, therefore, knew what were his political views, and also thoroughly understood his grasp of the burning questions of the hour. Fletcher was a man of original mind, capable of reasoning to the end every question to which he gave his attention ; then he would form his own 19a a 6reat mmttinQ 193 judgment, which he would not readily set aside All hese characteristics Mr. Parnell had oLerved and htd S ^12 ''^^ °P''"^*°" °^ ^^^ ^-"^- -n's capa Diiities. Affairs were even th^n ;« « J^ ^ d.«o„. and none knew bt^teftha " t e'S Vthe" Insh party himself the overwhelming importance of having attached to him a body of men who,. ^ TESTS' 's-r-SrJfE him e^ Sa\nH ""' ^ '^"°" ^"ich surprised nimselt. Perhaps there was in his own nature some thmg not dissimilar. Whatever the reason T'" certa , that even in these early days. Fietcherr^c ved ttedtowfL^-r-- "' - ----::: surrounding was iSive'o'TLTaLeTfll.Irn^ rX'of s^inXt- ^- "°' ">- ^ --° - 13 ¥" 194 H Son ot £rin Iflfl delicacy, even fragility, pt his whole appearance struck Fletcher painfully. " Good evening," he said courteously. " I hope it was quite convenient for you to leave our good friend the captain ? It is rather an important matter I wish to discuss with you. Pray sit down." Fletcher obeyed. jtl«? was conscious of a growing nervousness, and felt the approach of some crisis in his life. " You will be surprised at what I am going to say," said Parnell, quickly. " But I have given the matter considerable thought, and I think I am taking a step the wisdom of which fu^ture events will prove. Will you stand for Tyrone ? " Fletcher stared stupidly before him, scarcely able to believe his ears. He had only been a few months in Ireland, and though he yielded to none in his passionate devotion to her interests (the devotion which a patriot feels for the country of his birth and his love), he had scarcely expected to be called upon, even at a very distant date, to give that i.iterest any public voice. " Sir, I — I scarcely understand," he faltered. " Do you mean — are you asking me to offer myself as a Parliamentary candidate for Tyrone > " "That is precisely what I do mean," answered Parnell, with his slight but always sweet and winning smile. " Of course you know that Ryder Mullins has resigned. I never expected to be relieved of his obnoxious connection so soon. It seems he is going to marry a rich American, and adopt her nationality ; so much the better for the nationality he has dis- graced," he added, with a sarcastic and meaning in- flection in his voice. " It is imperative at this moment a Oceat raplifting '95 that the new adherents of the party should be men about whom we can have no doubt. I have confideTce m you, and if you are still of the mind youTerr „ r Tu'''. *""' J""" "" ^ nominated I, w'l be a ough battle, but I really do not know whtt the Gladstoman power there. We shall have to find out " his fa f Citf h.f r H ""p""^"'- ^"^ «-">' '--o ms lace with his hand. Pamell leaned back in his torher-he"'' "*■*, 'J' f ''^ ""^""^ fingers meting together, he regarded the young man keenW ,„S waited with the utmost patience untirhe shouB^'make some remark. He did not dislike the evident eiTeTof the announcement upon him. A keen student of men and things, the leader of the Irish party well knew and TZT ru '"'-P^'™^^ -^ often wal^ Band in hand. The man of parts is usually modest up. His face was pale, but it wore a fine look of resolve, even of pride, which added some digni y to a personality by no means to be despised. ^ ready '^n' whTh T'"'*''' *'''' ''"'' ' ^^^' •"> "ords ready in which to express what I feel ; but surelv you do not quite understand my position. I Zl Tm^t T- ."'"^ ™' ^"*^'y °" 'he salary paid nd that^of :r'" f'r- ^'"""S" y°" •'■•"dness, ingly^'r-brgo"!""" '""^'" ^^^ ^--.-ou.ag- owl'H^elihl'c^*,!: '"• "''"^''" ^ ■"='- -"o "« h- own livelihood to earn enter Parliament ? " The leader leaned back in hi« rhai- and la .rf, .1 SrtugL"' ^"-'-"^ -' were'f^lf ollS 196 H Son ot Erin " There speaks youth and inexperience," he answered. " Don't you know that quite the half of those who enter the House do so either to make a living or to improve the living they have got ? " he asked, with one of his caustic touches. " The question of money matters nothing. The expense of the election will be borne by the party. An unattached young man can live very cheaply in London. You would be surprised if you knew at what very little cost I have lived there during the last two or three years ; and as a member of the House you would of course be able to command a much higher price foi anything you might find leisure to write." Again Fletcher was silent, overwhelmed indeed by the prospect. It is not given to many to reach the goal of their ambition so quickly, and with so little personal effort. " If you think I am fit," he said at length, " I am ready." " I thought so," answered Parnell, in tones of some satisfaction. "As I have already told you, I have given the matter all the consideration it requires, and the difficulties, such as they are, can be easily sur- mounted. You had better stay until O'Connor and Shaw come back from Glendalough, then we can make all the arrangements for the contest, at least as far as they can be made until you have paid a visit to the constituency. I expected them back before now. They must have accepted Lady Lyndon's invitation to dinner, I think." "Does Captain Byrne know anything about this, sir ? " asked Fletcher. " He will not be unduly surprised. I told him some time ago I should find you a seat. By the bye, do you a Great mmttim answered, hose who ring or to ked, with of money ction will mng man would be St I have i ; and as e be able hing you ndeed by reach the so little b, « I am of some , I have lires, and isily sur- inor and we can least as I visit to ore now. tation to Dut this, im some , do you 197 Byrne toW me there .s some mystery attached to it " I know nothmg," answered Fletcher, "exceDt that I was deserted in the streets of Edinburgh el he by my mother or the woman in whose charge lias Ift " And you have no clue at all > I„ novels there s generany a mysterious birth-mark or relic ofsome sort wh,ch proves the identity. I am sure yL'Zl ■'Nn\uT ""l°J f* ^'''••" =»'■'' F'^"^''«^ fervently No al en could feel as I feel towards Ireland." "^^ chooses to t»v .• "'^ "'y' " "'^" ■'= ""»' he cnooses to make himself, and sometimes the demorahsafon of our old aristocracy seems": com dimocra:;.""" '°"^^ '"' ""= '"•<"»?" °f «>e new Fletcher sat silent, much impressed. He had often heard .t affirmed by those who, for public or bTnge/r; Te t'"'^' ""^ ="^"^^ "-' *'t he oelonged to the tryannous aristocracy ; that he was TT\:. u " "^ "^'y <:omfortabIe at Killane I ■I h ' ""• u'"'"'' '"'^'"S off to a new ub ;ct ., i Tl "^"^ ^''" happier in my life." ' And how does the book get on > " to f rLl"TKTP''"'°"- ' "^P^ 'hat I shall be ,ble to fi^msh .t before any active duty would be required 1 98 a Son of Brtn " Oh yes, you must finish it. There is plenty of time between this and the beginning of January. There can be no doubt that we shall have the session opened immediately after Christmas ; but that is two months hence. I hope that you have not found the captain's daughter the greatest attraction at Killane .? " A smile played about Parnell's mouth ; but at the same time his shrewd eyes never for a moment left the face of the young man opposite to him. He attached more importance to the question than Fletcher dreamed. " Miss Byrne has been more than kind to me, sir," he answered. « I have not presumed upon my position in the house, nor indeed have I ever had the least temptation thereto." " That's well," said the leader, with satisfaction in his voice. «I can tell you from observation rather than from experience that it is that kind of influence that plays the devil with a man's public life. You will be wise if you keep yourself unaffected as you are now. You will save yourself a good deal of heartache perhaps, and be able to reserve your strength for other things." Years after, when the final act of the tragedy of this strange life had been played, Fletcher recalled these words in painful and almost mocking memory. Their talk then drifted into more private matters connected with the immediate interests of the party, and after sitting for another hour, waiting in vajn for the return of the two guests at Avondale, Fletcher rose ^o go. As he did so he took his pocket-book out, and from the inner flap removed the little amulet which he had carried there since it was put into his hands by the only mother he bad ever known. a ereat Taplifttng 199 " You asked me a little time ago whether I had any clue or relic relating to the past. This was given to me by my adopted mother when I came here." "Indeed," said Parnell, and, extending his hand, laid the trinket flat on his palm. "This is very odd," he said. "I seem to be familiar with this little trinket. Would you care to entrust it to me ? I know a man in Dublin who is an adept at this sort of thing. I have no doubt that through this you might be able to unravel the mystery of your birth." sir. CHAPTER XXV IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING LL Lyndon's actions during the three first days of that week were carefully studied, at. he showed himself as much as possible K u ^ T ^lendalough and the immediate neigh- bourhood. As he rode back from Avondale that evemng he made a detour from "The Harp of Erin " and skirting the bar, .n fields of Arraghvanna he actually rode nght into the farmyard and stopped at the cottage door. -Holy Mother! " exclaimed Mary O'Neill, who had ^In °« V V" P^'P"'" '^' """"^'"^ meal for the little ^^ Inldt"^^"^^^^ ''' °^" -'' -^ ''^ --'"^ . "-?l\ ^ ""u^' ^°' ^""' ^^"y^" ^"^d Mrs. Rooney excitedly. « Now, where's Ted ; he's never to be seen when he's wanted > When the squoire comes in just slip out, will ye, and see if ye can find him about the "All roight, honey, just k -o quiet, and I'll do everything that's roight," said y^,. " "« i ii clo air; and by the time the squi given his smart knock at urtr vith in important 'lad alight? 1 and ^e door, she had aoo 5n Sbecp'6 Clotblna jo, managed to sweep in the hearth, and whisk every possible speck of dust from the mantelshelf and the shinmg oak chairs. " Good evening, Mrs. Rooney." Lyndon called out m a loud cheerful voice. '• I was passing up your way and thought I would look in. Is Ted at home ? " Ves, sor. hegfrm' your pardon that I'm not able to rise to make me a.-tsey." said Mrs. Rooney. « Shure an Its a welcome sight ye are now that all thethrouble we feared has gone by like a drame." " Second thoughts are always best, aren't they, Mrs Rooney?" said Lyndon, as he leaned easily Against U.e cresscr and surveyed the bright and spotless kitchen in eresting to him because it had so long sheltered Kitty, who, alas ! had now left it for ever It showed a singular callousness that he could stand at his ease there knowing that in a few hours or days at mos the shadow of desperate anxiety concerning Kitty must fall upon the little household. " \ ^^s J""f thinking as I rode across the fields that he place looked hungry enough. I am not a grea oMe'eding '' ' ""' '' "' " '' ''' ^^"' "^"^^^ ^ ''' bef^f' "\r ^"' '' ^°'''" '"''^ '^^ °^^ ^^dy. rocking b; elf rather mournfully on her chair. " Faiding :i!;;^;tYit^ '^^^ -- '-^^^ '- '-'' -^ "^- ' "Oh, but times will mend again," said Lyndon. « I think we must get up a conference to consider the depression, and see whether we cannot fall on some 7ulZ7J'' ' '" ""^ ^° ''' ^°" ^^"^ -"fi-d to "Oh, but I am murh better *^^ — '- ' -. said Mrs. Rooney, "and Kitty has gone into 202 a Son of Erin i ' Monaghan to her poor uncle Tim, who has had a stroke, God be good to him. Her cousin Dan was to mate her in Dublin yesterday and take her down." "And I suppose the good woman I saw when I came in is looking after things until she returns ? " he observed, carelessly. "That's just it, sor ; she's gone to try and find Ted. There they are." Ted, it must be told, came with some unwillingness, not at all sure what this unexpected and unusual visit might portend. The young squire had never taken much personal interest in his tenantry, all his dealings with them having been conducted through the medium of his agent' Still there was sufficient gratitude in his mind for the respite which had been granted to them to make him wish at least to meet his landlord half-way. " Evenin', squoire," he said, respectfully enough, and Lyndon returned the salutation cordially. " Your mother has been thanking me because she is still at her own fireside, Rooney," he observed, " but I ought to have said she should thank Father O'Hagan. I suppose I had not really seriously thought of the real consequences until he laid them before me. I have also been saying to your mother that I think we must get up a conference of some sort, so that we may arrive at a better understanding of the grievances, and see whether we cannot redress them." Ted could scarcely believe his own ears. This was an attitude so entirely unexpected that for the moment he could do nothing but stare at the young squire in astonishment. It was an attitude likely to fill a reasonable man with hope and satisfaction, Ted was and had been all along entirely reasonable, doing Bn Sbccp*s Clotbing 203 his utmost to fight against circumstances the most adverse, and making the best of every possible oppor- tunity, nor had he ever asked anytning exorbitant or impossible. His face grew brighter than it had been for many a day, and he blamed himself inwardly for the many harsh things he had said about the young squire. ^ » "If that could be done, sor,» he answered, "it would help things a lot. It's not so much money as toime we want, and, whatever Mr. Moran may have tould ye here s not a man on Ballymore but would pay his rhit like a brick if he had it." "Well, well, the thing is past in the meantime. I passed my word to Moran, you see, and I had to make some show. You won't hear anything more about the evictions, I promise you, for a long time, and I'll give orders at Rathdrum to-morrow for Michael M Ghee to come up and put a new roof on that cow- house of yours. I'll take a turn with you round the place If you like, and see what's wanting to be done" irr'\ f '^^'^^ '^"P'^'y ^^^""'^ l^«n^. wondering whether he heard aright, while tears of silent joy and thankfulness rolled down his mother's cheeks fnrJnZ Tf .^"^^"^^"^ '^^ ^wo young m;n, whom fortune had treated so differently, spent among the miserable outhouses of Arraghvanna. To do Tom Lyndon justice, he was rather shocked to find the place in such a wretched, tumbledown condition M vf ?Tl °'^''f.°^ ^'' '^"''' ^^ *^^d ^"ffered himself to be led by a self-seeking bailiff, who to serve his own ends wished to keep the tenantry under his thumb and who constantly assured him that he hnd d-ne everything that could in reason and "jus"tice ^be expected from him. For the first time he found him- ill 204 a Son of iBvin , I i i; ■ ! l Ir ml' self face to face with the actual facts of the case »nH although the object which had brought hm to Arraghvanna was a base one, he forgot it for tl!^ moment in his newly-born in erest Tthe Latter 1 ttutht' tV*"'° ''"^'y ^'™" one ime item fnln.! r J 1 "'*' *"'*"•' ^""^ g™«fi«d, and in the soui e : .h ' "'"' '"P'*'"^" '''^'^'"S to the young squire with a minuteness and intelligence which lef! Lyndon no loophole of escape. It showed him two ndfr\h!:r'v %""'• =""'°'' ""P"-"'^' ""^tion! under which his tenants lived, and his own failure to fulfil the obligations his position entailed upon hta Lyndon even forgot that it was Kitty's brother To whom he was speaking, and for the firs? time felt an active personal interest in his own affairs. I m very much obliged to you, Rooney," he said as h« walked round to the front of the cottage to for the trouble you have taken to explain everything the methods of Mr. Moran. I shall not be saying too a grtaf dt ''" 'T"""' "" "-^^ ""^^ "Pon "^himself knfwn that rt""' "•' '"" '^"'""'^- «"d had I Ishrid»t> ?l' """ '" '"'^ " bad way with you I shcnnd at least have tried to redress them long ago. It isnt too late to mend, however, and I shall to :;rj':;3'- "°"" ^'^-'---ions whth'wm At that moment all that was best in youne Lvndon «^nk. he turner:::; L':riyr:t:rimerwft"^ misgiving and remorse ; for whatever he mi.ht d^ o b=«er tne outward condition of the Rooneyl, he was Bn Sbeep's Clotbim 205 about to deal them a more terrible blow than any that had yet overtaken them. He felt like a traitor as he castle a^d" ''"'r ''' '''' ^'"''^^ *°"^^^^ ^- °-n Kfttv\nH A 'I "'°'"""* ^'^' ^^'^P^^d t° recall Kttyand send her down to Monaghan, so that none might know what had been in contemplation. He came o a fiye-barred gate presently, which made an obstacle m h.s path and. as it was padlocked, he had to take It at a gallop, but his finely-bred mare was equal to ,t, and took it as easily as if it had been a Next day Lyndon again showed himself at Glendalough and Rathdrum, and after having given instructions to the village carpenter to go up to Arraghvanna, and do whatever he was bid by Ted Rooney he turned into the little office where Mr Justm Moran conducted the whole business of Ballv- more to his own satisfaction and the extreme dissatis- h?iJT ^^/^^^-ybody else. He was a little, stout, bald-headed man, with a shrewd, hard face and an odd •squeaky voice, out of all proportion to his appearance.' He was much disgusted with the sudden change affairs had taken. There was nothing he would have enjoyed more than the evictions he had so frequently urged at Ballymore. He was not beloved in the district, and he had many old scores against the tenants which the evictions would have given him an opportunity to wipe out. During the last forty-eight hours he had puzzled himself incessantly to find some explanation for this sudden change in Lyndon's plans of Father O'Hagan had reallv prm.=,nH but - 'n he had not been able to find the slightest clue to what was to him a mystery. ao6 Z> Son Of £rin im :, *: " Good morning, Moran," Lyndon observed as he stepped into tl,e office and thre,. his ri^^switeh and gloves on the table. •■ I am going away for Td^ or hvo as you Icnow, to Scotland. I should have gone yesterday, but, as it happens, I had some other mafters to attend to, and since I changed my mind about"he tTon r "*'' ""'" ^"""=""2 "P a little informa! tmn on my own account. I was at Arraghvanna for ZuZ^^ "'"''■ '''y- ^-"' *- P'- '="" an inil'L" *•'"■■ '*'^ " *^'"'*'" '*'■* ^f"'*" ™th an air of bald head perplexedly. "In fact I've said all 5one that ,l^s more than time^ some one who really under? stood farmmg and had a Uttle money at their back and" t ^' *^' ?.''"' '°' "■' S""" '-". Mr. London and ,t wants looking after as eveo^ place does and '"X^f-T ''°'=' '°°' ^°' *« "atteTof that" ,„„ T VtI, ''"°"' **' ' ^oxght it was a hungry buddings are s.mply disgraceful. Why, if we have a Of tri.^^'" "-- "^ ""'^ - -^-p > -'-t ^- " Oh nonsense I Irish cattle are not so delicate in he.r chests." observed Moran, facetiously. "Now J could take my affidavit Rooney's been fitting it on toym- an ZTv:- '"" "' *"'' ^ ^ '*"' "'* ''''" f°' ov« "I thought as much. If 1 had been there I onTour ?en' 'T T' ''''■ ' '"PP°- "« -^^^ fr^ll L?"^ '"'°»'^7hat? I hope you'll excuse my fre^om s.r. but I don't want to see you got the rved as he Jing-switch f for a day have gone ler matters about the B informa- livanna for :e is in an an air of roking his all along lly under- heir back . Lyndon, does, and I a hungry the out- B have a )east free ilicate in 'Now, I » to you." for over 5n Sbecp's Clotbing 207 « I don't want any more of your gratuitous remarks. Moran, observed Lyndon, with a touch of hauteur which none knew better how to assume. "What youve got to do this morning is to listen to me make no remarks, but see that my orders are put into execution without delay.'* there I worked •romised :use my got the CHAPTER XXVI 'I' 1.1 m ^' U'l f! ^1] THE MYSTERY DEEPENS EXT day it was through the whole length and breadth >of Glendalough that a mighty change had taken place in the attitude of the Squire of Ballymore towards the tenantry, against whom he had been prepared only a a few days before to carry out his extremest threats. W.r^^TV^\''"'P'°^""'""'^ ^'Sun upon the homestead of Arraghvanna, but all who required any similar repairs on their steadings were bidden leave their requirements in writing at the estate office in Rathdrum, when they would be attended to in due course. Before Lyndon left on his projected visit he said nothing whatever to his mother about what he had done, nor to Terry ; but that youth was not long in discovering what was in the wind. Out the ^°?u "^. il^' ^'' ^'°'^^''" departure, with his gun in the fields, as usual, as he skirted the out-lyin? portion of Arraghvanna he caught the gleam of new wood, and a general air of bustle about the place. Depositing his gun in the hedge he vaulted the low stone wall and took the intervening dreary black patch 01 potato land at a run. ^ 808 Ubc {fb^BtcK^ Deepens )le length a mighty ttitude of ards the i only a t threats, pon the lired any en leave oflfice in ' in due ed visit ut what was not Out the his gun ut-lying of new place. :he low k patch " No sJ" '?''%"" ' "*™ y°" "ad a windfall ?" •iNO, sor, answered Ted frlanrinrr ;« *i. ,. of the cowhouse, the broken rooT o( '"^.^r""" being deftly and substanjly "epaTred bv th. f 7^ Mr. Michael M'Ghee « If-; ,J""'^'^ .''^ '^e hand of he said, with^'a^'tinlde' tT'^rl^'^iT^' Father O'Hagan we've got to tha^f for U 7' v^ if;?t;^::d:fThi::-^----''-^^^^^ Why, I never heard anything about it" saM Terry, completely bewildered alft^ u r Ted «L5'k'"'"\'- *" *' '""''■ M- Terry," said be to pay me%rnf ' if , "^ '"'"' '° "'^ ''^"^ I'" boys ar^ o'f le ^e j;ind'':^d"Lr^''-- '"' ^"' '"«= eyel^^^re^ltt'^e^.^' T' •'"'^'^ "«-- ^is passing weaTnlss a^d T ^ ''"' "=''^"«* °f his It was noHUif ^f ' ^^ "^^ "»* have been sho2 ,n r" '° •"■' J-oung manhood that he Should so warmly sympathise with men liJ T.I doThiw^sUr r °"'^ """"^ hTan;- J mattL'Tn 7hi^ tht"? ,'r-has come to look at a!i the same" si,? t' ^' ' '^°"'' ""derstand it be wo^'t regret i" '^"'^* '""'"^- "^« I'™ ^u- 14 aio ti H Son ot iBtin ; I .' >■ It'' I That he won t. sor," said Ted, with great earnest- ness « As I said, I'll pay my rint somehow, if I should have to go in the town for the winter and earn it, just to show the squoire that I'm a man of me word." Terry smiled, and, stepping forward, examined with great mterest the plan of repairs. Then he walked home to lunch, pondering the thing in his mind. He could not understand it, and mingling with his undoubted satisfaction there was a vague feeling of uneasmess lest all was not right. And yet what could be wrong, or what more natural than that, having had his sympathies awakened by the good priest Toni should take some > steps to redress the sad state of affairs existing on Ballymore ? But what astonished lerry most of all was that Tom should actually have sympathies to arouse. Terry had not hitherto believed him to be possessed of any. He found his mother waiting on him, and, as usual, he plunged into the subject nearest his heart without a moment's hesitation "Mother," he cried, excitedly, the moment he was within the dining-room door, -just guess what has happened .? I don't suppose Tom has told you any- thing about it." ^ ^ "About what.?" asked his mother, languidly. You re so boisterous; you're just like a hurricane coming into a room." " I beg your pardon," said Terry at once, « and 1 ought to have washed my hands. I'll do so in a a minute when I've told you my news. Did you know that Tom had given orders for all sorts of improvements and repairs to be done at Arraghvanna and on Finnigan's place, and goodness knows wher^ else,?" "~ ^be misstctis deepens 211 Lady Lyndon stared at him », i i , " What r=>M I '"^ helplessly. -^^7o:i7j2s^,tlr''°''' ^^'^^ Who and they have even fa^ed 71 V "^ "P'"'"- P^haps in the spring Did Tnfn^ " "''^ °"«' about it > " ^ ^ ""^ ^°"' 'e'l you anything e^?r;hthT^:rr^a:ro ir'^"--'' - subject. " I suDDose h^A-l " '"^"'^ °" the hardly believe Tyet Are v"' '"^' ""' ' "" mistake?" ^ ^'^ y"" sure there's no " Why, certain. Didn't I M] ,.„ t with my own eyes on th! r ^ ' '^'^ *^'Ghee ■nust say it's aboTt the last thr, " ^^"^''^nna > I from Tom. Surely Fat, J, O^H "°"" """^^ ^''P^'^" talking to him agdn T tSn^'^'n ""'^">'"'« been lunch and see." ""^ ^" g° down after the''iir o^^lleTfalttS'tf^d "'= ""'"'--'' find out from Moran what Tslh! 'P'"' " ' ""*s' and if possible put a Itoo tn "'\'"/»"""g of all this, oxtravagance." "^ *° '""='' f^'ghtful folly and his'otrs^sVrTerrr^vifh ^f"' '" '"""' "^ '^f' o'd Tom. I wish h7U,e he e /";r f" " ^""^ a jig round him." '° "'^ ^ ^uld dance "Go away and make yourself fif f„ ., -a. X-yndon orde/^the 'rt:!? ::^.-- 11* '■'^iff aza a Son ot Edit iiiili gave the order to drive to Rathdrum, which she reached about four o'clock in the afternoon. She found ?/Ioran in the office up to the eyes in business. He was surprised at receiving a visit from Lady Lyndon, but not displeased. He had frequently wondered how she regarded the new order of things. He did not long remain in doubt. " Send your young man out, Moran," she said, with a glance at the clerk, and the mom(nt they were left alone she broke out. « Now, what in Heaven's name is the meaning of all this .? " she cried, shrilly. "Has my son suddenly gone mad, and are you aiding and abetting him in this outrageous folly?" Moran shook his head. " I know as much or as little as your ladyship," replied Moran, shrugging his shoulders. " There's a mystery in it, that's all." " I should think there is. Surely you know some- thing, since Mr. Lyndon has spoken on the subject to you. He never mentioned it to me," she said, irritably. "My lady, all I know is that Mr. Lyndon came here yesterday and gave me some orders that nearly knocked the wind out of my body, begging your ladyship's pardon. And when I tried to reason with him in his own interests he told me to shut up, neither more nor less." "I can't understand this strange influence Father O'Hagan has acquired over him all of a sudden. Can you ? " "No, my lady, I can't; and what's more, I don't believe Father O'Hagan has had anything to do xvhh it, though he's getting the credit of it all over Wick- low. In Glendalough they're making a little tin pnd of him and nothing else." ^be /BBstets ©eepeits agent's words. "And if^t tZ°\ ^'"^' "^ '"« account for it? It wa, ^.,1- V ,' "^ *"■* *e to with Father O'Ha^n last f1"'^ f" "^ "^'^ " '^'k his plans." ° " ^"''^J' 'hat he changed all woZri;. it.l7tdy7 °"" ''P'"'"" '^ 'hat there's a " VVhat woman ? " .!li*» od j her eye. po.s.-ively flashed ' ""'^^ ^^^^''Pness, and " Miss AiJeen Bvrnp t *u- i -vrong," said the agent leL.,'"^ ' t"" ' ""^^ >«= note the effect of hfs haj^e^^rk''' ''"'"°"' '^« '° "4htTX." ."i :t^::: rr^'^ ''^'" ^^« -•". me. Moran Do a mt ein th "''• ^"'^^ "^'™ '<> as possible till Mr LvnH " """"■ °^ ^''P^nditure to disobey the ortrs^ "ee" hiri. °° "°' ^PP^' do you understand ! " ^* """^ '' "° hurry, but'the'^rhou'set A^'^K "''" "^ "° """"« huro^ • tell me. in to Tay' ■■ """"""^ "'" "« «"-hed, they' nieS.loZhtV„°st'rr '"^'"'^"°- ■•" 'he '«s outlay, which we c^anmaffn H°"'i° ''"" ""'^ "»- if the place had teen cl "red / ,"°T "'"''' ''^"^^ 'azy. presuming good-f !rthingV'%"''f T' "^ disappointed. As I ,a,vi " "S^- ' «"> bitterly have such a chance again" "^ '°"' '"' """ "e^er «itl'a.?ty S ;^L7;, '^"^^^"'-P. and I wish What's the use of sayi„Xti7w::rAj::i,*''!,"' he. I think it fan u^i":' 1 ''''' *''=" '' should an unjust law that takes the at4 B Son ot Bctii \m power from a woman of experience and gives It fo •, I^e thirty." '' "' """ "' f°' P"'^" ""'" 'hey I Z„T'J!%*/''''^ ""'"} ^°"' ^^y^'P ■• h"' I must say Llr? K • ^y"'^""^'^ pretty shrewd and deter! nnned for h,s age ; and I say again I can't make out what has changed him," said Moran, and he showed i-ady Lyndon obsequiously to her carriage "Tell him to drive to Killane." shr said: and eanmg back in the carriage she gave herself up to thought. The idea of Aileen Byrne as a possib e daughter-in-law had more than once occurred to her •hough it had never given her any pleasure She had no active dislike to the girl, but there was neither sym pathy nor mtimacy between them. The disparity in the,r ch-racters and natures forbade it. Although nothmg could be actually said against the maVriage ^t was not the brilliant alliance of which Lady Lrdon had dreamed Her son was veo- handsome, a'^d, Wng so closely related to the once powerful Bantry fami"y m,ghtcla™ a r.ght to mate with one in ^ highe; ,. "J^?'V\"°*^ *"*" ^"y """""y" she said to herseir as she looked out when they passed through the a«c' way at Killane. " They are beggars, like Srse.veP CHAPTER XXVII A WOMAN OF THK WORLD "There you did me an injustice Ai]^^n . k -j A«ee„ .Whed:l„"at,ottn;S ^ '^ ^*""'- ierry and I are old sweethenrf/ t o^ t , eX ■■KTcomI"^ "V"' -P"-<» aL„ /• is.n c It a cold afternoon ? We arf» cp^;««. 4. have a severe winter I think tu ^ ^ *^ score oi robins on the lawn Th^'s '' ""''" ^"^'" * omJnn„e .:^^ » ^ ^^"^^ *^'s morning— alwavs an "Ves, it is cold. I have been i„ Raftdrum, Aileen "5 . * 2l6 a Son ot JSrin m. t' f " repeated Aileen, in surprise. I never heard of it until this moment. But, of course, I am glad. Knowing my views, you will not expect me to say anything else." "Then you have had no hand in persuading him "What can you me^n. Lady Lyndon.? I have only twice expressed my views to Tom on the subject —once long before the evictions were even talked of, and once after he stopped them— on Tuesday afternoon m fact— and he did not say a word about any repairs." "Then it remains as great a mystery as ever!" exclaimed Lady Lyndon, helplessly. « He seems to be bewitched." " Dear Lady Lyndon, don't look doleful. Whatever has brought about the change, believe me, neither Tom nor you will ever regret it. And see how happy Terry will be ! The former state of things was eating into his heart." " Oh, I don't take much notice of Terry," replied his mother, lightly. « But I should like to know what's at the bottom of all this. I made sure I should find a clue here, and I must say I feel rather glad to find you innocent." ^ "Denis, tell the gentlemen Lady Lyndon is here," said Aileen. as the butler sf^t *y^^ tp-* ♦^-a- w-,r-__ u_' My father and Mr. Fletcher are working what they a momm of tbe TDmorl& 217 call double tides in the study in view of the election Of course you have heard the news ? '■ ;• What news ? " asked Lady Lyndon, quickly. Why, Mr. Parnell has asked Mr. Fletcher to stand the" mon' ' ">, K,"^^ ^r'^""'' '■'^"'^ ''"" ^ =he uttered the monosyllable only partly expressed her feelings l^^^rrr"""- ^"- -h e^oyed tfe "You are as surprised as I think Tom Will be. Why IS It that you have all, except Terry^, such a prejudice against papa's inofifensive secretary ? " P'^^Juaice "You are mistaken, Aileen. How is it possible to entertain a prejudice against a person one does not recogn.se ? asked Lady Lyndon, loftily. •« I confess I am surprised What on earth can Mr' Parnell meTn ' raismg the tone of Insh politics, and that he would mSent" ''''" '^''^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^-^ expttl^ moS' ^"""^^"^^"^ P^^^^^ --^ Aileen's "Some of us think he does dignify the party ; and in this case, at least, papa believes he could not have made a better choice." " It is just possible the constituency he proposes to Lvndo ""Vf' ^ ''^"^"^ view,'' observed Tady Lyndon, with dry sarcasm. "After Cork I rather think they'll receive their haf M """''f/l""" °P^" "■"'• There is no doub that Mr. Parnell has more than fulfill^H » e--n- " tion, and that he fills his position Hke'a^kinV'n'ai'd A.Ieen. with the earnestness of one who fek deepij i.fi; '> { J .. I K ml iMli 2l8 a Son of JBvin what she was saying. Indeed the expression of her face and the extraordinarily eloquent look in her eyes raised in Lady Lyndon's mind an odd suspicion, of which she found it difficult to rid herself. Although Parnell was many years older than Aileen Byrne, he was still a man in his prime, and his personal qualities were exactly such as would appeal to a warm, impul- sive nature like Aileen Byrne's. Could it be possible that there was anything between them, or that Aileen had given her love unasked .? Dismissing this interest- ing problem to be considered at her leisure, Lady Lyndon made anoi.ier remark which caused Aileen's cheek to flush angrily. " Well, I suppose the fellow will be so much flattered that he will be insufferable, where before he was merely objectionable." "Oh, Lady Lyndon, you are harsh. But, hush! here they come. May I beg you to conceal your feel- ings, or at least respect mine. It cannot but be painful to me and to my father to see our guest uncourteouslv . treated." ^ " Your dependent, you mean, Aileen. But don't be afraid. These are levelling days, and I shall bear in mind that I am talking to the possible member for Tyrone, and, who knows, perhaps the future leader of the Irish party." Aileen looked nervous and embarrassed as her father and Fletcher entered. On more than one occasion she had witnessed an exhibition of Lady Lyndon's haughty and overbearing demeanour, and feared a repetition of it. In this, however, she was agreeably disappointed, After shaking hands with Captain Byrne, Lady Lyndon gree^e^. r^etcher with an urbane cordiality which surprised no one more than the young man himself. B Moman of tbe movlt> 219 He did not respond to it very heartily, and Afleen inwardly admired the distant gravity of his salutation. He immediately attached himself to the tea-table, and left the captain to entertain Lady Lyndon. But of this she by no means approved. Again she felt puzzled, almost irritated, by the strange sense of familiarity caused by his appearance. She had seen him only a few times— each look at his face deepened the impression. It was one with which she had long been familiar. The very trick of his expression troubled her, and once, as she saw him place his hand behind his back and bend towards Aileen as she spoke, an icy something seemed to clutch at her heart, and the fine colour for which she was renowned visibly paled It was as if the spectre of the past haunted and mocked at her. She turned to the captain with a ghastly smile. "^ "Your younj- protege may thank the lucky star which guided him to Killane," she said, indicating Fletcher with a glance. "Aileen has been telling me of the distinction Mr. Parnell proposes to confer on him. Is it not a little premature > " "No. I assure you. Lady Lyndon. Fletcher's an extraordinary fellow. He's a genius. You will admit I have had the best opportunity of judging during the last few months," replied the captain, confidentially, and with undoubted enthusiasm. « Wait till my book comes out. It bears the mark of his masterly touch all through. I tell him his name ought to be on the title-page with mine. I have only supplied the skeleton ; he has clothed it. Lady Lyndon, in language which will compare with the finest in an.r j|fo..j.,.« You should hear Mr. Parnell on it. I gave him^ some of the early sheets to read, and that made him desire JE 220 §m' a Son ot jSvin further acquaintance with Fletcher ; but he was un- doubtedly drawn to him, from the first." "Indeed, very interesting," said Lady Lyndon, and puttmg up her lorgnette, she deliberately surveyed Metcher attentively. But he never once turned his eyes m her direction. Presently, however, she raised her voice. " Mr. Fletcher, may I be permitted to congratulate you ? Come here, and tell me how it is you have managed to make yourself necessary to one of the most unapproachable of men ? " Fletcher looked at her steadily, feeling the same sense of antagonism towards her as he had often felt towards her son. •' Go and talk to her," whispered Aileen. " She is very sarcastic, but I think you are her match." Fletcher crossed the room. Lady Lyndon kept her lorgne>-tc to her eyes, thus accentuating her somewhat supercUious look. " What is it you wish me to say, Lady Lyndon ? " he asked, courteously. " I want you to tell me how you have conquered Mr I'arnell ? He does not make friends readily, and he is a very proud man. Doubtless you have brought strong family mfluence to bear on him." Captain Byrne, laughing silently, went to Aileen's side to have his cup refilled. "Madam, I have no family, replied Fletcher, quie ly, except an adopted father and mother in Scotland, who out of their charity took me from the gutter, where some one responsible for my care had left me—that is all there is to tell." "Where did this hannpn ? " .^h^ od-^j i— ., ciliously, and with deepening interest. H Moman ot tbe movltf 221 " In the city of Edinburgh." " Edinburgh." she repeated, musingly, and with an odd sense of relief. " Have you no further clue to your real birth ? " " None ; nor do I seek it. I am fortunate in the parental care these Christian people bestowed on me. I want no other." " Are they in poor circumstances ? " " They are poor working people, madam." " They have brought you up well ; but if you go on as you have begun you will be able to repay them." "Lady Lyndon, there are debts in this world it is impossible to pay— my debt to my parents is of that number. There is nothing I could give them which they do not possess. I could not make them richer by a hairsbreadth, except, pe.haps, by my gratitude and love, which, I pray God, will never fail them." He spoke from the fulness and passion of his heart, and his words made a strong impression on all who heard them. Aileen hurriedly wiped the moisture from her eyes. Each one in the room was conscious of the personal power of the man who uttered them. Lady Lyndon shrugged her shoulders as she rose. " You are very odd. I suppose that is why you have interested Mr. Parnell. Well, you are about to be launched on the tempetuous sea of Irish politics. It has wrecked many a promising barque. Take care of yours, if only for the sake of the good people of whom you have told me. Well, Aileen, I must go. When are you coming to Ballymore to behold our transformation scene .? " Aileen snn'led. "I should like to come soon. When does Tom return ? " 323 a Son of Brfn 1, ^r n Mr: i . I' * 't iffi: ■ !m" II It > I ' I ( Not later than Tuesday. It is a duty visit he is paying. The M'Neillsare a sour lot. given up to psalm singing and other forms of godliness not approved by Master Tom. Shall I tell him you will postpone your visit till his return ? Such a message would undoubtedly hasten it." "You can tell him anything you like," Aileen answered with a merry laugh, and the smile lingered in her eyes after Lady Lyndon had left the room with her father. " How well you spoke to her, Mr. Fletcher," she said when the door was closed. "She isn't always so disagreeable, but she has been much annoyed because the evictions have^been stopped." "I thought so. But I cannot imagine Lady Lyndon to be a pleasant person in any mood," answered Hetcher, making a directly personal remark for the first time in Aileen's recollection. Lady Lyndon's carriage had to pass the gate of Avondale on her way home, and when she came within sight of It she looked out, half-inclined to go up to the house. But already the early winter darkness was closing m, and she was by no means sure of finding the master at home. On the brow of the hill she met one of the station cars bringing a solitary passenger, when she immediately recognised. She drew the cord, and the carriage came to a standstill. Only then recognising her as she put her head out of the window Mr. Parnell leaped from the car, paid the driver and sent him away. ' " Lady Lyndon, how do you do .? I hope you have not been calling at my deserted house > " " Not to-day ; onlv at Killane. Hnw ar« vou ~r-i Why do you never come to see me at Ballymore ? I a Moman of tbe movlt> 223 kept those two uninteresting guests of yours the other night in the hope that you would come in search of them." " I had something else to do, and I am sorry you found them uninteresting," he said, and while he was speakmg he kept his eyes steadily on her face. If only she could have read his thoughts ! " Where have you come from ; and why don't you ride m a proper conveyance ? The leader of the Irish party should not journey so shabbily." "He journeys according to his means," answered Parnell, with his faintly melancholy smile. " I have been in Dublin on a purely personal matter. Will you excuse me if I ask you a question regarding an almost forgotten episode of the past .? " Certainly ; ask anything you please ? " she answered, hurriedly, conscious of a growing nervousness. "Did you never find any clue about the poor little chap who disappeared so mysteriously from Ballymore so long ago ? " " What can you mean by asking such a question > " she said, shrilly. « Of course it was known that he was drowned in Glendalough." " Was the body ever found ? " " No ; but there was no doubt whatever. The nurse disappeared, too. But tell me why you have raked that hideous memory up just now ? I have been trying for five-and-tv/enty years to forget it." "I am sorry. I meant no ill. I shall not offend again, he answered, and scan his face as she might and did its sphinx-like gravity revealed nothing to her But when he bade her his suave good-bve she sank back trembling among her cushions, oppressed by a vague 3ense of approaching evil, Jhi^A CHAPTER XXVIII If III* THE BLOW FALLS EVERAL days passed, and though no letter came from Monaghan, neither Mrs Rooney nor Ted felt greatly alarmed.' ^ They had half expected a line on her arrival to say how she had found her uncle ; but the absence of any news they accepted as a hopeful sign, and fully expected that Kitty would return any day to give them full particulars in person. When She left It had been on the understanding that a week would be the limit of her visit, even for that time she could ill be spared from Arraghvanna ; but the strange and unexpected turn affairs had taken had infused new life into everybody, not only at Arraghvanna, but over the whole estate. Ted went smging about his work, delighted to see his tumble- down place growing trim and taut under the capable hands of Michael M'Ghee. He felt as if he had re- ceived a new lease of life, and all that was best and brightest in the young man's nature came to the If %.r '^ "'°^^^' ^^^ "°* b~en so well for years Mary O Neill came in with unfailing regularity to do ah the hard work of the house ; but Mrs; Rooney was 334 li, ■*, trbe Slow falls „j fht^ l„"'°'ht°''.' ''°"'>'»"d do ''g'eat many little Amgs m which she took the greatest possible pride S..e y«s constantly thinking of the surprise it wodd be iratact" """'"' ^"^-^ » -'™'^ -•>- =>■- l™-17 ?"i' "f''* " °"' "''>' '^'"y ••== never sent a St' ^f 4: T '"'"^ ""• ' ""P^ everything's right If there be no word from her to-morrow ve must w„e and say that I am gettin' a bit anxious" ' about, mother," answered Ted, carelessly. " Ye know Im not thmkmg there can be any bad news or we won d have heard. VU go down presently a„^. :eeTf there s been any letters left at ■ The Harp ' " ,„ ?/*7 t'u """' "" *" "^■'l^- °n'y 'he ploughing to do, and all the winter before him to do it in, so thaf Ted was not overdriven at all in these dlys bu to Michael M'Ghee w.th the repairs. About ten o'clock he cut across the fields to "The Harp " for the letters which were always left there instead of being S Wsi^to "t: °;:,"^'"? '■°'^-'^"='"''- ^ed paid many v«v much !f m'T "'l'""'^'' "^ "'^ "°' ""^-ne very much of Mickey Malone's whisky. Mickey amta". ''""^ ''*"^'"" '^^ «><= attractiorand among her many admirers there «as none of Uom tL r! %"'°'' ""ghlythan Ted Rooney ; but he" fa her had often warned her that he would never gi^e tpZTin n° '" ""r"^ ' "■='" ™'-^ he could to t!^ r?^ """'°"- ■^''^^^ "ews were known to Ted, and hitherto his pride had kept him from the heart to do so. Now. however, it seemed to him 15 m 236 H Son of jSvin ml that everything had changed. Once more hope had spread her joyous wings across the horizon of his life and he had even anticipated a possible and glorious day upon which he should be able to tell Nora what ZVH ^l\}''^''''^'^^^' fear of being turned away Irom her father s door. ^ " Good morning, Ted," said Nora, fresh as a daisy as usual, as she stepped briskly from the little parlour at the back. « I was just going to luk for a spalpeen to send up to Arraghvanna wid yer letters. There's only three, but wan, I think, looks loike bad news. " "From Monaghan.?" said Ted, eagerly, as he stretched out his hand Tor the broad blak-edged envelope. "s*-" " Yes Monaghan. I was curious enough to read the postmark Ted, knowing Kitty was there, and why she had gone. ^ "Poor Uncle Tim must be no more," said Ted soberly as he broke the seal. Nora stood sympal thetically by and watched him while he read the letter, which appeared to be very short. She saw a gradual and curious change come upon Ted's face, as he stood with the letter in his hand helplessly staring at it< •'What's the matter. Ted.?" she asked, moving to his side and glancing over his shoulder. " Is it worse news even than you expected .? " ^^ "It's just what I expected. Nora." he said hoarsely : but there s something here I don't understand. Read it, Nora, and tell me what it manes at all at all" Nora took the letter, and ran her bright eyes over it. fh..u\ 'v. "■^' ^'' f^^h^^^^- yesterday, and that he hopes Kitty can come because his mother is r i^i 2 hope had of his life, nd glorious Nora what irned away as a daisy, tie parlour a spalpeen s. There's loike bad ly, as he lack-edged h to read i, and why said Tedi d sympa- read the >he saw a 's face, as •ly staring noving to • it worse hoarsely ; d. Read ill." is over it. rday, and Ti other is ^^ 'what's rilK MATTM< f /'rt;T 226, m u w sf 4 cc Zbc Blow jfaUs way. Why, Kitty is there, isn't 227 in such a sad she } " HblmtL'T""^ '^"'- '"''P'""'-"- " Sh« went away rntTr sh^cinTharerr ■■" ^"''"- ""' ^-" .h:u?isTpei;,tr''.-H:s:"'r'"r' ^°"' '" to hear =„hT, '^^ '''^^ ''"'J' '•»^« expected have taken a turn fcT'' '"" '"" n,o.he/„,ust it mean Ted ' L v "'°"'- ^''y' "'""«^" <="" KitTy." Son.eth.ng must have happened to ^^ Ted stood quite still, and his face became white and " Something has happened to her. I daren't take th.s letter home and show it to mother No a I must ry and find out something first. Do you tiinl^^ 'Zrlo V°"" 'r" ""= * P°"y «° ride'^tnto h' goof hot." " '' ^'''''"'"" '' -"'^ -- •"« a " Why, yes, I'll lend you one Ted Fr.fh« • to Wicklow but I know he'd be^he vejtrto'r yo could have it. What can have happYed to p"^ K.tty? A whole week! Oh, Ted, it's terrible." Its worse than terrible," saiJ Ted anH m„ never forgot the look on h.'s face. M?ckey Matn" LTf "7 ^°^ ^°"' '^''^' »"d in little Irf tan dr m'"from" l^^T '" '"^ '^'^^'^P" <"«- « R^h- drum, from wh.ch he sent a message with a ore nZ reply to Monaghan. V/hat he suflred „ the^t'ervl^ kniw \::''''j°' '"^ '^"■™ -"--ge no :: ;;: sho^' JaV "^fr^ """^ unexpectedness of the shock, and the awful mystery surrounding fhe -Zt "na.r, seemed to knock the soirit nnf „f °.,- "ji" could do nothing but tremble rd^r.-fcfn'S' tfcj fiiii 228 H Son of l£tin urn !(' '!» •'■ WPl' like a child. Within the hour a message came back from Dan — " Kitty never been seen or heard of." What to do next Ted could not imagine. He was able to cope with the ordinary affairs of life, but this strange and terrible catastrophe, which had so many elements of mystery in it, seemed to knock his usual self-reliance away from him, and he felt as helpless as a child. Father O'Hagan was the first person that occurred to him. He was always ready to help in any emergency or trouble, and no doubt would be able to give him some advice. He got back to Glendalough just after one o'clock, and leaving the pony at " The Harp " strode up the village to the manse gate. Father O'Hagan had just come in for his modest mid-day meal, and at sight of Ted's pale, set face, he knew that something terrible must have happened. In a very few words Ted put him in possession of the facts he knew. The good father's face grew grave as he listened. " This is a terrible story, Ted, and how to get at the bottom of it I know not, but something must be done. Now, the first thing I want to know is, had your sister any lover, or was she in the habit of meet- ing any one outside .? " " No, sir ; she didn't hold with swateheartin'. Many a loikely chap has sought her ; but she would have none av thim. No, whativer has happened to Kitty, your reverence, it isn't that." Father O'Hagan stood silent a moment, and there flashed upon his memory the night that he had met Kitty and young Lyndon, not together, certainly, but suspiciously near the same spot. He did not think it wise, however, at this early stage of affairs to mention his suspicion to Ted. He knew his hot and impulsive Zbc Blow jfalls 229 temper, and it was a matter which required great delicacy and care in handh'ng, in order that the girl's reputation might not suffer in any way. •• How did your sister seem when she left home, can you remember ? " " Yes, your reverence, she was all roight. I drove her to Rathdrum station myself ; she cried a bit when she said good-bye, and I taised her about it, but that was all." " How is it that you have not been alarmed before, especially when she has not written ? " "Well, you see, sor, we are not a wroiting folk, and me mother and meself just thought that no news was good news, and that Kitty would be steppin' in any day to tell us all about it. She's often been at Monaghan a whole week and never written a word." Father O'Hagan stared rather helplessly before him. Eleven days since Kitty had disappeared ! What might not have happened in those eleven days ? " Well, the only thing we can do, Ted, and what we must do, is to put the police on her track. Give me every particular— the train she went by, where she expected to be met in Dublin, all you can think of— - and I'll go in myself to Dublin by the three o'clock train and see the Superintendent of Police." " I must go wid yer honour. I can't stop at home doin' nothing," said Ted, desperately. "But, my dear lad, there's your mother to con- sider. I think it will be wise to say nothing to her just at present, at least until we are certain that Kitty is really lost. Are there no other friends she could have pone to visit ? " Ted shook his head. " No. It's my opinion she's been murthered. Father 830 a Son of Brin ; l: J: O'Hagan," he answered, jumping to the most desperate conclusion at once. " I don't think there is any likelihood of that, Ted. In the first place I don't suppose your sister had an enemy in the world, and in the second place she was not carrying anything with her that could make it worth any person's while to kill her for what she had. I should dismiss that idea from my mind if I were you. But there, all the talking in the world won't mend matters or help us out. What we've got to do is act. You go quietly back to Arraghvanna, and hold your tongue, if you can, before your mother until I come back. I shall be very late, of course, but Fll come up to Arraghvanna before I go home." " I could come and meet you, sor, if you are coming by the last train," said Ted. "My mother wouldn't take any notice of that, because, you see, I am often at * The Harp ' av an evenin'." " Very well, you could do that, perhaps. It would arouse your mother's suspicions less if I were not to make an untimely visit to the house." So the matter was settled. The good priest, who grudged no labour or trouble for his parishioners,' and, besides, being keenly anxious concerning Kitty, who was one of the flowers of his flock, departed to the capital by the afternoon train. Ted went back to Arraghvanna, and, dodging his mother's questions as best he could, spent the whole afternoon out of doors. Ik- -if CHAPTER XXIX DIRE SUSPICIONS JATHER O'HAGAN .uJd not get rid of the fact that Kitf . .oney and the squire had disappeared from Glendalough simul- m«t.7r»r- !f"'°"''>^' ^"d ^e firmly resolved to make it his business on the morrow to discover the movements and present whereabouts of Tom Lyndon • but of course, as yet not a hint of these suspicions must be breathed to Ted. They had rather a melan- choly drive along the frostbound roads under the HnT T7u^^- ^l'^ ^''" disinclined for conversa- t.on-Ted because his mind was full of a thousand vague alarms, and the priest because he feared the worst was yet to come. It was late, of course, when Ted reached Arraghvanna, and he let himself quietly mto the house, much relieved when his mother did not summon him to her bedside to ask where he K^v V"u ' u ''''"''''' ^'' ^"^^^'^^3^ concerning told. He did not know how to set her aside, and he feared that the shock in her weak state of health wouM be a serious one. Father O'Hagan rose early next morning, and, 831 : (•. . > 232 Mi- a Son of Erin having dressed and breakfasted with a somewhat heavy heart, he proceeded to Ballym le. His errand was a difficult one ; but in his long experience as guide, philosopher, and friend to the people of Glendalough' he had learned to tread lightly over difficult ground,* and to handle delicate subjects with a touch peculiarly his own. It was about ten o'clock when he passed through the great gates of Ballymore. The gatekeeper came out curtseying as usual, surprised to see his reverence so early on the read. The priest turned aside a moment to inquire for her well-being and that of her small family, and he obtained from her a piece of unexpected information, i " If you be going up to the castle, your riverence, the young squire is home. He came home last night by the mail, and druv all the way from Wicklow, because the train did not stop at Rathdrum." " Are you sure of this, Kathy ? " he asked, almost unable to believe his own ears. "Why, shure, yes, your riverence. Didn't I have to get up in the middle of the night and open the gates ? and sore frightened I was, too, having had no notice." " He was alone, I suppose ? " said Father O'Hagan, involuntarily. ** No, your riverence. There was a young gentle- man wid him, one of his honour's cousins from Scotland come back wid him on a visit. They're going to hunt this morning I heard them say, and there's enough of noise at the kennels. Don't you hear them .? " The deep baying of the dogs filled the stillness of the morning. Father O'Hagan listened to it a moment in silence. While in a sense the gatekeeper's words Birc Sttspicfona 233 filled him with relief, it deepened the mystery of Kitty Rooneys disappearance, and made it appear more difficult, if not indeed impossible, of solution It was now eleven days since Kitty had left ; nine, he knew, smce Lyndon had followed. The fact that he had come back accompanied by one of his Scotch cousins, seemed to make his participation in Kitty's flight entirely out of the question. What, then, was to be done .? What had become of the sweet girl who had made the sunshine of Arraghvanna, and was beloved in Glendalough, from one end to the other > His face wore such a troubled look that involuntarily the gate- keeper put the question to him,— " Shure, and your riverence looks sorrowful. Mav 1 make bould to ax what is the trouble > " ^^ " I can't tell it to you to-day, Kathy," he answered. It may pass but in the meantime I am very anxious and perplexed as well ; in fact, I don't know where to nnf' ^r^^! ^ff ' ^^^^ "^^''^"^^ ; t."t shure, have you wH ?^^" '°"-^ "^ y°"^«^^f ^vhen things has been hard wid us, that our extremity is God's opportunity?" At hearing one of his favourite counsels thus neatly applied to his own case. Father O'Hagan could not torbear a smile. "Thank you. Kathy. not only for having remem- bered my words, but for having spoken them to me ma moment of need. I shall remember them. Good ZnLT' . ?"" '^"''^ ^' "'^^"S *^ ^°""d^ this morning I need not go up and see him ; my business Lull wait. Leaving the gates of Ballymore, Father 0'H..«n struck across the fields to Arraghvanna. He" felt more thankful as he walked thai although Ldy m 234 U Son of iSdn tempted, he had not communicated his suspicion of Lyndon to Ted Rooney, and he somewhat rebuked himself for having been so ready to think evil of the young man, who apparently was less culpable in many respects than even he had thought. So the good priest read himself a fresh lesson in charity that winter morning, and inwardly prayed that he might be kept from the sin of harsh judgment. He had not been at Arraghvanna since the improvements had been made, and he was surprised as he approached the homestead to see its trim and prosperous look. He felt rebuked again, remembering at whose instigation these repairs had been carried out. Lyndon was not and never had been, a favourite of Father O'Hagan's, and perhaps he had been prejudiced against him, and too ready to attribute evil to him. These thoughts brought him in a very penitent mood to the cottage door, at which he knocked, and was immediately bidden come in by Ted. The moment he entered he saw from the appearance and attitude of poor Mrs. Rooney that Ted had communicated part at least of the bad news to her. She was rocking herself to and fro in her chair piteously, and refusing to be com- forted. Ted, whose face was pale, and bore traces of the sleepless night he hrd passed, looked much relieved at sight of Father O'Hagan. " Good-morning, your riverence. I have just been telling my poor mother that Kitty has never got to Monaghan. It's hard on her, but I'm bidding her try and not despair. We may hear of her yet. I was thinking all night long of it, father, and perhaps, who knows, she may have been taken ill in the streets, and been i-,1.^ ecu latic n to some of th — nOa pitals it I thought of that, Ted, in fact I went to the h Dire Suspicions 335 Rotunda on my way to the train and inquired, and there was no one there bearing the least resemblance to your sister; but to-day the whole length and breadth of the city will be scoured by the police." At mention of the police Widow Rooney rocked herself to and fro again, and wailed more loudly. " Oh, my poor darlint ! Why did I ever let you go.? It's kilt and murthered she is, and we'll niver see her purty face any more. Ob, Father O'Hagan, it's shurely a wicked woman I must have been all me days to have so many sorrows heaped on me." *^ Father O'Hagan drew nearer to the distracted mother, and tried tu comfort her, but it was a futile task. She was like Rachel mourning for her child refusing to be comforted. ' Throughout the day the news gradually spread in Glendalough that something had happened to Kitty Rooney, that she had never reached Monaghan, and that no one knew where she was, or what had become of her. That day there was a meet of the Wicklow hounds on an adjoining estate to Ballymore, and Lyndon was riding with the best of them. Late in the afternoon the huntsmen, with the hounds in full cry, swept over the cross roads at " The Harp of Erin " raising the usual excitement among the loun^^ers at that favourite corner. ** Father O'Hagan's anxiety concerning Kitty was almost as great as that of her mother and brother He could not rest, and about four o'clock in the after- noon he borrowed the accommodating Mickey Malone's pony, and rode into Rathdrum to tele^raoh to th^ police asking whether any clue had been found. In the interval which must elapse before the reply was hi I !^ Vr 336 B Son of JEvin received he rode up to Killane, only to find that there was no one at home but the captain's secretary. " I will speak to him for a moment if he can spare the time," he said to Denis Doolan, and in a few minutes was joined by Fletcher. They had met several times at Killane and elsewhere, and Father O'Hagan had formed the highest opinion of Fletcher's gifts and character. " I must apologise for disturbing you at your work," said the priest, as they shook hands ; " but I am in great trouble about a family in my parish, and while I wa3 waiting a telegraph message from Dublin I thought I might as well walk up here." " Captain Byrne and his daughter will be sorry not to have seen you," answered Fletcher. "They went to the meet at Derrybawn this morning, and have not yet returned." "Oh yes; I might have thought of that. However, it does not matter very much. You know the Rooneys, of Arraghvanna, don't you ? At least you have heard of them > " " Yes ; I have been in their house," said Fletcher, with interest. "They were in great trouble then about the threatened evictions, but I understood from Miss Byrne that all that was over, and that Mr. Lyndon had even gone the lengta of making some improvements on the place. " All that is quite true ; the trouble has nothing to do with agrarian matters," answered Father O'Hagan. "Less than a fortnight ago the only daughter, one of the best little girls in my parish, went off to visit her uncle in Monaghan who was supposed to be dying. She has never written, but it did not raise any anxiety until quite recently in the minds of that there ary. ; can spare in a few had met nd Father ' Fletcher's at your ids ; •' but parish, and Dm Dubh'n sorry not rhey went 1 have not However, ^now the least you I Fletcher, uble then tood from that Mr. :ing some s nothing i Father the only rish, went supposed t did not minds of Mtc Suspicions 237 her mother and brother, because it appears she has often spent a week and more from home without writmg at all ; but yesterday morning a letter came from Monaghan, announcing the uncle's death, and they liarned from it that Kitty had never arrived." Fletcher started. " Never arrived ! What can have become of her ? " "That's exactly what I have been trying to find out I went to Dublin yesterday, and put the matter m the hands of the police, but I must say I am not very sanguine of success. I am waiting now to hear whether any clue has been found. I don't suppose for a moment that you can help me ; but you know how one feels in a matter of this kind— it seems less overwhelming when it is shared with another." Fletcher hesitated a moment, while there rose up vividly before his mind what he had seen in the woods of Ballymorc on the night of his first visit to Glendalough. He looked at the priest, and the priest looked at him. "You have something to tell me, I think," said Father O'Hagan gently. " I have, but whether it is a clue or not is another matter," said Fletcher. "One night a good many weeks ago as I walked back from Glendalough I came upon Kitty Rooney in the woods of Ballymore in close talk with Mr. Lyndon. They looked like- well, like lovers ; and I think you might do worse than ask him whether he knows anything about her." Father O'Hagan groaned. It was terrible to have his old suspicion not only reawakened but confirmed " I thought of that, and indeed this mornincr' i went up to Ballymore for the express purpose"* of questioning his mother about his actions during the 238 H Son ot iSdii past week. You know, or perhaps you may not have heard, that he has been absent on a visit to his relations in Scotland. It is only nine days since he left, eleven days since Kitty disappeared ; yet he came home last night accompanied by one of his Scotch cousins. I do not see how we can connect them at all in this matter." Fletcher hesitated a moment before he spoke again. " It is a terrible charge to bring against a man, Father O'Hagan," he admitted, frankly, "but as I stand before you this moment I have not the slightest doubt in my mind that the only person who could throw any light upon this mystery is Lyndon of Ballymore." , < iiSi '• CHAPTER XXX MORE LIGHT MILE these stirring events were happening in Ireland, life flowed on in gentle, even tenor as before in the rose-covered cottage on the banks of the Spital Water. After Robert's departure it seemed to John and Mary Fletcher that they drew together more closely, their common love and common sense of loneliness making a new bond between them. They only knew after he had gone how much he had been to them. Perhaps of the two Mary missed him more. He had always been a dutiful and obedient boy since understanding what duty and obedience meant, but of late years he had endeared himself to her by a thousand tender and thoughtful ways. She missed him at every turn. He had always been at hand to save her failing strength • he had done the little services which generally fall to a daughter's share ; how necessary he had been to her existence Mary only realised now that he had left them never to come back. They both knew that while he would without doubt hold them in loving memory, and It might be revisit the old home, the life that had been and which they had so sweetly and kindly shared 839 340 B Son ot Erin together, could never be renewed. He had gone out into the great world to make or mar his fortune, while they remained in the sa anchorage which they should never leave until they set out on the last lonely voyage. There was some sadness in the thought, and even to each other they had never given it voice ; but their pride and joy and hope in him was wonderful. Since the day he had taken up his abode at Killane he had written two letters to them every week, giving them such minute and graphic descriptions of his life that they could follow him through every turn of every day. They saw Killane, the grey, old house among the trees, and felt as friends towards all its inmates. They knew the Lyndons by name, and Father O'Hagan, and even old Moran, of Rathdrum, and had waited breathlessly to hear of the result of the evictions. Nor was Mr. Parnell forgotten. It seemed the most wonderful thing of all to them that in so short a time Robin should have made friends with so great a man. After that it seemed as if nothing could further take them by surprise. It must not be thought, however, that Fletcher wrote in boastful spirit. Tall talk of any kind was impossible to him. He simply related events as they happened, described things as they were with a vivid clearness which seemed to photograph them on the minds of those who read his descriptions. He wrote also out of the fulness of his heart because he loved the recipients, and had not the temptation to send the care- less, hurried epistles which would have betrayed the fact that he found the duty irksome. Very often the Irish letters came by the evening then they had leisure to read, and ponder, and enjoy /Bore Xlobt ,^, them Sometimes John would read the letter over first h,mself, then aloud to his wife, then they read ! nafho,"' T r '" '°'"='"'"^' '"" " ^»' unconsciou pathos Tuesday evening the letter never failed; it was delivered at the door about eight o'clock, and long before Jamie Sanderson could possibly have reached the Haugh John would be at the door nr pacing the garden paths, restlessly looking for the flash of Jamie's lantern. By that time Mary ,CMld have all the tea-things cleared, the spotless h. a.'h swept in again, the fire burning cheerily, and lotr, slippers on the fender end. The Book, ready dr hi evening lesson, would be in its place on The little round table beside the lamp, and she herself wai „g wi h a secret tremor for the next news of her boy A richt Mary," John called at the open door. " Here s the letter. Are ye ready .' » his hand, and, sitting down on the arm of his bie chair, opened ,t carefully with his penknife. r.,H r'^ 7°" "'• ^"y" •>" "'=''■ before he had read many imes. "What d'ye think has happened noo? Hesgaun into Parliament." J,t''Tf^- ^°^" ' ^''' "°- I''" ^ > joke. Gie me the letter see, and let me read it for mysel'. It's a mistake ye're makin- this time." r . us -Lis^ntome? '"'' "°'"''"'" ""'"""='' J"""- ^™"y- Map, put on her spectacles, and never took her word Tr.^" '"^""'^ """' """"^ he read word for word of the wonderful news. It was not so Ion? a letter as usual, but gave the plain facts of 'he °al cludTh i'n-'*'* i"''™'" »' A™"d»'«- »"d 'in- cluded by teUing them he was going to begin his I6 ir ■? 343 H Son of jBrfn campaign at Tyrone at the beginning of the following week. "Weel, that's maist wonderfu', Mary," said John, as he took off his spectacles and wiped the moisture of excitement from them. " To think o' Rob makin' political speeches in the very thick o' an election. Eh, what wad I no gie to hear him ? " " I wad greet just as I grat that nicht in the Music Hall when you spoke, John. Eh, d'ye mind that nicht, an' hoo we fand him at granny's door among the snaw > " " Fine I mind it, Mary ; but I maun read it again. " Eh, I hope the Lord will guide his feet an' gie him sense." » "He's no glaiket, John," said Mary, proudly. " An' he has mair sense than mony a man thrice his age." " Ay, but the fu' cup is ill to calrry, an' he's but young," said John, shaking his head. "I think I maun go up to Halliwell the nicht, and tell the maister the news. I canna wait till the morn." Mary smiled indulgently, not ill-pleased at the thought. Then they went over the letter again, conning every sentence, weighing every detail. "Mr. Parnell maun think a terrible heap o' him, John ; but, oh, I wish it was in Scotland, instead o' Ireland. It's sic a wild place. Ye never ken what'll happen there next," said Mary, with a sigh. " It's a fine place for a young man to buckle on his spurs — an' win them, lass," said John, as he went to the press to take down his overcoat. "Ye'll no bide, John }" she said, as she went with him to the door. "Ye'll only tell the maister an' come awa'. It's very eerie sittin' here alf r«e." /»ore ZiQbt ,43 if"ohi^'' f'fl: '^*'y' *"' y" 1^™ "'hat gangs before he pa r •■ ?l'bet' w^ 'i^ "^^"^ ^^ '-^ ^''PP^'' to ine patn. 1 1\ be back inside an hour." Mao' put the bolt in the door, and went back to the cosy hearth, where she sat down dreamily loo much hat; 1;^ !:'^' '"^ ■'"'"'"^ 'y-^ inviting ; to her hand. She had not long been alone when a low hesi' rl^ m" ,T T ^ * "^'ghbour's visit. Since her long Illness Mary had been a prey to nervousness and she hesitated whether to open the door. But wS tSe un"didth:ror-'" '''' "''-' '■--'^-x^ -«"A andTu'' *r'" "'" '^^'^^ '■" a =«^Pinous voice and holdmg the door open far enough to see that 1 woman stood on the step. * " I'm a stranger, Mrs. Fletcher, but I want to see fi,=t. '^«,u ""'.h^'tate, though her heart beat a little fas er. When the light from the lamp fell across "! httle passage she saw that the late visitant was » d~d a°nd thit "h :f' -p«'»'>'>'-: Th,; ■'Cote ^ i ^f """''"^ ^"^P'"'""" about her Come in, she said, cordially enough, " though T dinna ken ye. nor what ye can hae to say to me ° '' ' ■ -ur^ •"' , " P''='™">'- ■^°" are alone. I saw y^at husoand leave the house " At this odd remark Mary turned sharply round Perhaps after all it was some thief who had waS MlH' 244 H Son of JEdn her chance, but another glance at the woman's face reassured her. " Tell me your business quickly," she said. " I dinna like the way ye have come." •' I have come to speak to you about the boy you have reared as your own, whom you call Robert Fletcher.'' Mary began to tremble violently, and the old fear which used to visit her in the days of his babyhood clutched at her heart again. Had she then come after all these years to take him away .? " What aboot him ? " she asked, fiercely. '' Are you — are you the hizzie that left him > " The words forced themselves from her without any will of hers. She was dumbfoundered that they were received with a nod. " I am." "Are you— are you his mither.?" asked Mary then, and there was agony in her voice. To his mother she would have to give him up, but to none else. « No— I am bad, but not so bad as that. Had he been mine I would have kept him," answered the strange woman, as she threw back her veil and revealed her haggard face, which bore traces of much sorrow " I don't ask where he is. because I know I have watched him from afar all these >oars, and I know he is in Ireland now— within a stone's throw of his father's house. The very finger of fate, Nemesis Itself, has led him there, and the plotting of a lifetime has been overthrown." Mary sank almost fainting into her chair. " To UIb fr^i-U 1;.— » >l -1 ^^ ii^o .cxiiici anvc ; sne managed to gasp. " No, dead many years ; but let us go back and Lyndon of B^C^:" ^°" '"™«»"«^ "><= "a-e o^f thJi/SuSret^hrjU'ilr ^O^"' f-'-'y. and real name is Brian Lyndon" "" Ma^y^ 1:^;^;:.^ "" "^ »« -ay or stolen f " a.ked mother amVes f Be«, . "'" '"'''" ** «""d child might "cupy^'it t\:M-'' * • '""'^ ""^ maid to the first I ,rf„ r ^ ^ question. I was I took ca e of he cWld 7 °"'. ""' "''™ *^ ^ied Whole story, /"^^e: y. C" ^ "fonf ""f *■«> yourse! When the new wife found .h/ " ^°' a child of her own she clll t J*' e'^pecting the little one which amo„„?.^rf ' "^''^'^^ ^^ainst obliged to hide U trs" t1 anfhe ' "" ^"^ '^"^ it I was in her ?j ' "* "**'*'' guessed Te ITpan^ESf :---° -- nX^d^7l"-?~:^"-/d[: get rid Of hirrlaTSI.^^T.re-^^^nH" ariTd' Zou::-:^T""-' '■>" -%"-". S had never seen th" km" """^ "'^" °"«- »« she care r <- V "' "^ ''"«»' 'hat it was !„ ™.. "-are. i Kucw all about vou l«.f<^i-» i '•' "hen I laid hi™ down wh^^r^ ^S^^/r n^'c;:^^ Irlil 246 a Son ot iBtin to him, because I believed that you would take him and care for him. If he had been put in the work- house I should have taken him cut." Mary Fletcher sat still, trembling in every limb. What the strange, black-browed woman called the finger of fate she acknowledged to be the hand of Providence leading Robin back to his own folk. The wonder of it all held her in thrall ; she had no desire to speak a word. The idea of seeking to cast a doubt on vhat had just been told her did not once suggest itself to her mind. It was wonderful, yet natural, and as easy to follow and understand as a simple story book. " You say nothing," observed the stranger at length, struck by her silence, " but I see that you believe." "Oh yes, I believe, it is very plain and easy. That Lady Lyndon must be a wicked woman, and you, too," she said, with a sudden flash in her eyes — "to have robbed an innocent bairn o' a' that richtly belonged to him. Woman, how could ye do it.?" The woman shrugged her shoulders. " I was paid, it mattered little to me ; but I was fond of the child, and I have never lost sight of him. I have come here to see him play in this very garden ; once I sat in your big barn of a church on the hill outside, and saw him sit in the pew with you. I knew he was cared for, and unless I am mistaken he has not so ill repaid that care." At that Mary's eyes filled. " He has been a guid son to me and my man, an' I dinna believe that this will mak ony difference to him. He is bound to be a great man. We've had news the night that he's to be a Member o' Parliament. /IBore XiQbt 247 What think ye o' that for a lad that has done his day's darg in the HaHiwell Mill ? " " I am not surprised. He was bound to be clever his father was a splendid man before him. The only regret I ever had about the business was on Sir Tom's account." At that moment Mary heard her husband's foot on the gravel outside. Next moment he stepped into the kitchen, looking inordinately surprised to behold a strange lady in such close and intimate conversation with his wife. ; I 1 CHAPTER XXXI A STRANGE SIORV FEW moments sufficeJ to put John Fletcher in possession oi the facts the strange lady,! who gave her name as Therese Maxwell, had come to relate. While she was speaking he kept his keen eyes fixed on her face, and though her tale seemed somewhat improbable, he did not for a rrioment doubt its truth. Perhaps he was less surprised than Mary had been. It had long been borne in upon his mind, especially since their adopted son had grown to manhood, that he must have been born in a family of some distinction. The quick development of his powers, and the extraordinary facility with which he had accommodated himself to the altered conditions of his life, had still further con- vinced John of the correctness of his own views. His face, however, was rather stern as he listened to the v'oman's words. He had small sympathy with evil- doing wilfully done, and to steal a child frrm its parents and its home, for whatever object, seemed to him a crime so enormous that it could scarcely be forgiven. He was aware, however, that :r. the woman vefore him he only saw the tool of anotl and prob- 248 a Stranae Stor^ 249 ably I stronger, nind, and he proceeded to cross- exsmiiie her in i manner which filled Mary with surprise and adn- ration. "Supposing your story to be true, mistress," he said deliberately. -" I am not saying I dinna believe it :' but wT'ere is your proof?" Therese Maxwell smiled. ''The proof! I am the proof. All I have got to do is to go to Ballymore and face Lady Lyndon liiere is nothing else needed." " ^f^^ ]^^^y ^^y^^^on think you have kept him all this time.?" asked John. " No, she thinks he is dead. I told her so after I saw him safely established here." At this Mary, to whom truth was as the breath of life raised her hands in horror. John's eyes were not without their indignant flash, and he took a step back- ward from the woman, as if there was contamination in her presence. " I suppose ye did that for your ain ends, an' it's an account ye will hae to settle wi' your Maker." " Exactly," said Therese, with a grave nod. " I'm trying to make some reparation now before it is too late. When I took the child away from Ballymore Lady Lyndon gave me five hundred pounds. She was to give me another five hundred pounds if I told her the child was dead." " Oh, the Jezebel ! " cried Mary, unable to restrain her wrath. « It's a wonder a fire from heaven hasna bur ,t her up long ago." Tl ' ese Maxwell smiled. The simple goodness of tft :-. people in contrast with the darker sfd** of Uf- v^Ki which she had so much acquaintance seemed u?most inconceivable. 25© B Son of Brin •'Lady Lyndon is a person without a conscience," she answered. " Of course, the offering of the second sum was a distinct bribe to me. I was to get rid of the child no matter how, no questions would be asked ; but I had some bowels of compassion, and I congratulate myself on having done well by the child. He was much happier in this peaceful home than he would have been in Ballymore, at least until he was able to fight his own battles." " That does not alter your sin, my woman," said John, sternly, " and if there's a law in the land ye shall be punished for it." "Oh, I think not," she answered, calmly. «I did not come here to discuss anything of that sort ; but I think now that the yoiing man's career is beginning it is as well that it should be known who he is, and I am quite prepared to face the consequences, although I do not think there is any chance of punishment such as you suggest. Matters stand like this with me," she said in the same calm, deliberate way. " While I had the child in my care, as I told your wife, I received an offer oi marriage from a good man, one of your own countrymen. He was in some difficulties at the time, and the money was useful. He knew that I was taking care of the child, but believed him to be the son of my widowed sister, and, of course, he asked no questions when I told him that the child had been taken back to his own people. We were married, we were happy and prospered greatly. I am in comfortable circumstances ; I can pay back Lady Lyndon the thousand pounds she paid me, although I earned it well." " It is a marvel to me that ye have been permitted to live, woman," said John Fletcher with a kind of a Stranoe Stor? asi stern sadness. "Truly the wicked flourish like a green bay tree." "That is so," said Therese, amiably; "but I sup- pose everything will be made even by-and-by. Well I have at least done my duty so far that I have come here to you first, and I am prepared to go to Ireland with you on any day that you may appoint in order that this wrong may be righted at last. I think upon the whole I shall rather enjoy the confusion of Lady Lyndon, and even this will only be a blow to her am- feeHn ^""^ ^^' ^"^^' ^^^ '" ''""^^P^^^® ^^ ^"^ deeper In these few merciless words did the woman who had been a dependent under Lady Lyndon's roof draw her character to the life. Maiy shuddered to think that such people were permitted to cumber the ground. She looked helplessly at John, but found great strength and comfort in his calm, undisturbed face ^^ " Do you hear, Mary .? " he said, turning to her. Kobin has often spoken about the trip we are to take to Ireland in the summer. It's only hurrying it forward a little." J' S ^^^ " Will ye go to Ireland, then, John ? " asked Mary dumfounded at the course of events. " Yes, of course," he answered. " The sooner this wrong is put right the better. When can you make it convenient to go, mistress ? " he added, turning to the stranger. "^ "Oh, I am at your service any day," she answered, iightly. « I am a woman of leisure and means, but I think It well that there should not be much delay because when the whole truth is know., about our young politician it will cause him to « nter upon his new career with great /c/af." 25a a Son ot Erin Mary only partially understood! . lis ioeoch, but John saw the point of it at once. " It's late," he said, as the clock struck ten, at the same time he glanced towards his wife, " Could we — could we gie her a bed, Mary ? " " We could, but I will not," answered Mary, quite calmly. " The woman that has been so wicked shall never sleep under my roof." "Now, Mary," said Jc.'sn, reprovingly, "that's not the Christian spirit." " Yes it is," answered "'' lary, with unusual spirit. " We are bidden not quench the smoking flax nor crush the bruised reed." " But this woman , is not sorry for what she has done ; she glories in it. She shall not sleep in this house." Therese Maxwell faintly smiled. " Your wife is right. I am not fit to sleep under her roof, and even if she were to ask me I would not. I have some sense of the fitness of things. But I, ton, loved the child. I love him yet, and whether she may believe it or not, I was kind to him when I had h n, and he loved me, too." At this Mary's heart melted, and her tears fell. " Oh, I dinna ken what to do," she cr'f "' , " I would not be too hard on anybody, but it was a terrible wicked thing to do ; and his father — it must have broken his heart." At this the stranger hurriedly drew down h* v^" The memory and thought o( Sir Tora Lyndo w had ever been so ^ood and generous a master to her, had followed her like a spectre through the years, lOLUXLTiiig tiiCLity cL vrar^iixg iltJuXy citiu xlc&UiiLxsig clxx ^x\^i dreams. |i^ ; spe.ch, but ten, at the " Could we Mary, 4uite ricked shall "that's not spirit, ng flax nor lat she has leep in this sleep under would not. But I, ton, ler she may I had him, •s fell. " I would s a terrible must have vn he ve^' yndoi Wi ister to her, the years, ting all her a strange Storg 253 " I have taken a she turned to go. room at the hotel," she said, as I will see you in the morning, and then we can make arrangements. Good-night Mrs. Fletcher. I don't blame you for what you have said, only I would ask you to remember that it is easy to be good when no temptation to evil is offered" With these words, which gave Mary considerable food for reflection, the strange woman left the house John put on his hat, and walked with her along thr lonely path by the Spital Water, and only left her when they came within sight of the hotel in the High Street where she was to stay the night. There was little sleep that night for' John and Mary Fletcher. They sat far into the morning talking of all that had ...ippened, and of the still more wonderful things which were likely happen after this great revelation should be made lo the boy they had reared and loved as their own. "She said it was the Fnger r- fate, John," said Mary, as they rose at last, feeling need of a few hours' rest. « It's nothing but the hand o' God I canna get owre the thought that he should have been so wonderfully le.: away to Ireland." "It is indeed wonderful, Mary," answered John (ireamily, " and how his heart has been filled with indignption at the way that the hard-working, decent folk on the estate hae been treated. Something telt him they were h-s ain folk, but he didna understand I hae .lae pity for the young man that will be put out when the story is kent ; he isna fit to fill the position he IS ih. ' " It will be a terrible business/' said Msltv. with n Shiver. « I would fain stc . at hame to be oot of italf and yet something makes me want to go." 254 H Son ot Erin "Of course, you'll need to gang, Mary," said John, decidedly. " Ye'll get strength, woman , dinna trouble yoursel' about that." " Will ye tell Mr. Bremner ? " asked Mary, eagerly. " No, not yet. I'll just ask if I can get awa' for a week. I'll tell him we're goir g to Ireland, of course ; but until the whole thing is settled I dinna think that we have any right to tell the story to onybody." To this Mary quite agreed, and they went off to bed, but she at least could not sleep, her mind was in a whirl of excitement. Her quiet days on the banks of the Spital Water had not prepared her for such strange developments as these,, but at length some calmness came to her, and she was able to leave the whole matter, as she had left all the affairs both great and small all her life, in the hands of One who takes care of His creatures, and who maketh all things work to- gether for good to those that trust in Him. CHAPTER XXXII IN THE RANKS R. PARNELL had received a piece of infor- mation in Dublin intimately concerning Fletcher's future. It was his nature to satisfy himself without delay concerning any matter which claimed his interest and attention but, satisfied himself, he never was in any haste to communicate the result to others, even though thev were scarcely less interested. For two weeks he kept to himself information of the utmost importance To Fletcher ; it was a habit of mind which marked his private as well as his public life. For some reason he had conceived a strong personal liking to the obscure young man, and perhaps in the light of his warm interest exaggerated his character and attainments. 10 say that Fletcher warmly reciprocated the kindly leeling shown towards him by the leader of the Irish party but feebly describes his mental attitude. Parnell was indeed at that time eminently calculated to win regard. He was in the zenith of his power and popularity. Handsomp u/inn.-nrr w.^ux.. • ..„ . , he swayed the multitude as he willed. Perhaps his very reserve, which, even in the flush of victory or the 255 ... f 256 H Son of JBvin mad excitement of party politics, he never wholly laid aside, was the secret of his greatest power. Men felt that there was something behind, a reserve of power ; that the inner man had been reached by very few. Perhaps at Killane he unbent himself more than any- where. There he was at home. The captain's large, un- affected, honest heart, troubled by no doubts, was like a stronghold to the harassed politician, even then oppressed by the futility of the struggle and the grow- ing dread of ultimate defeat. In the presence of Aileen Byrne he became genial, tender, gentle in thought and expression. Often Fletcher wondered whether there was any warmer feeling than friendship between them. Of Aileen he had scarcely any doubt. She worshipped him ; but whether it was the ardent passion of a patriotic heart towards one in whom she beheld her country's salvation, or the love of a woman for the man whose wife it is her hope to become, Fletcher could not guess. Of Parnell's feelings he was equally uncertain, but there came a day when he was no longer left in doubt. Two days after his talk with Father O'Hagan he visited the constituency for which he had been asked to stand, and during the next few weeks had. no room in his mind for anything except the immediate events relating to it. He met with a good deal of opposition, which, however, his modest and manly bearing did something to modify. As a speaker he was not at that time a conspicuous success. The most that could be said of him was that he acquitted himself creditably. His utterances were moderate, yet tinged by a passionate though quietly ex*^ressed devotion to the countr^^ which made itself felt. The cry that he was an upstart and an alien Einces were rnafie it5?elf id an alien Bn tbe iRanfta a^y died down before a week was nut on^ u- began to command respecT Rn ' f u ""^^^""« for your own sake you were defeated/' ' " "' '"'" upon'llLt^I'f r Z '"'H^r'/f ^''/--> first time the sweZotrla-^f ^^"^"^ '^'' ""e being conquered ""'" "" *« '='>''g"" "f Parnell smiled his inscrutable smile. I might explain, but it would take some time" h» answered, amiably. -Experience wil, te^ach C^htt ^pp-z :rw-e°hair'„T^ cr details of the contest-4o not touch me f' """^ stand outside of them PerhL r ■ , ^^'"" *° some^ther quality ^Sch o^^ ^me,! ^e s^''^'''^' " powe^'^'p^rpieTT '"'• !'■'• ^°" "-« » '-"ble previ^'us Zn g.^lTe^a:1f "/ '."^f ^""^ °' '"^ the result of the pr!rw;s^own /LT "■"'"' *'^'" gathered under the Sows of " th. T ?^ T'"'^'' execr»tm„o af p....,, "?°"" °'^.*''=" hotel shoutine self at fh^ .^j"'"='' ^"'' ""nse;.; he had showed him^ self at the wmdo^. pale certainly, but unmoved and 17 asS H Son ot ]6ttn smiling, and thanked them for their courtesy. Some- thing in his immense self-control seemed to lay a hush on their fervid spirits, and sent them away cursing, but quiet, feeling the edge in some strange way taken off their victory. Fletcher never forgot it. It was one of the examples of the man's strange power which remained in his mind for years. It showed the terrible and pitiless side of his nature in sharp contrast to the kind, encouraging, always interested demeanour towards the young candidate who had come forward at his bidding. " Tell me, has your first taste of the fighting sickened and discouraged you, or the reverse ? Would you go through a similar experience again for the cause } " " Any day, sir, at your bidding." " It is something to have won such personal devo- tion," observed Parnell, with a slight tinge of melan- choly. " I may yet stand in need of it, if indeed I do not now. You have done well. The man who fights a losing game with a brave heart will not fail in any emergency. I believe you have a future before you." These unexpected words of praise fell like balm on a heart still smarting under defeat. Fletcher coloured, and was for the moment unable to speak. " Captain Byrne will not be ill pleaiied at the result, which will enable him to finish his book at leisure," said Parnell, easily turning the conversation into a slightly less personal groove. " Are you still indifferent to the undoubted charm of his daughter ? " Fletcher looked at him in surprise ; his own secret thoughts having in no way prepared him for such words. 5n tbe tRanUB ^59 to 2z:l:^;t.^^ ' -- -"- yo" ^po-^e charming sex I Til '''^'^P' '='^*'' °f her clamouring as the Tvr.n ''°"' °f'™ 'W neglect it. know not that " ^ '"°'' ''"^ '^^' "'ght. for they to Avondale and you ^o L \ F^"^ '° ^^^ back at the station, and for the n^tVl^; !^ P""''^'' of Avondale shut himself up.n strict '',' "'' ^'""^^ lonely house, refusing to see cal " ' ' '°" '" ^'" whatever. Even th»l, . * °" *"y pretext Fletcher feturnld Z^kI"""' f'"''" ^''"""-'ce. His friends there of cours^ i^' .^"?'^ disappointed, the election, and IZ'^t-'.^' ''"- "^^ -"'t of that train, was on the lockout in 'tL''"'";""' "''" ">' a word of sympathy and cond^knce '"' '° °''^^ ''™ a6o a Son of JCrtn if! " Well, if you haven't come back with flying colours, you have fought well. I heard of you, besides what I read in the newspapers." " It was a hard fight," answered Fletcher. " I ought to have written more frequently, but there seemed to be never a moment to spare." ** Oh, don't apologise. Don't I know what election- eering is ? Haven't I been at it all my life, and glad to leave it to you young fellows > But where's the chief ? Didn't he come out with you ? " " Yes, he's gone home. He's very tired. What a man he is. Captain Byrne. I have lived with him intimately for the last ten days, and I have never even heard of anything to eqiial his endurance, his patience, his splendid courage." The enthusiasm with which Fletcher spoke caused a slightly sad smile to dawn on the captain's face. He was old, and had lived through many illusions. He did not doubt the existence of patriotism, nor hold, as some did, that chivalry and honour and political in- tegrity were dead ; only experience had taught him to expect nothing, and to look at things through the level eyes of plain common sense. "I like to hear you, lad — it takes me back forty years. I like you better for your faith and for your hero-worship. You're the stuff that heroes are made of. It's enthusiasm that takes the forlorn hope. Well, well, come in to luncheon, and let's hear all Eibout it, Aileen will be disappointed the leader has not come with you." Aileen welcomed them at the door. Fletcher thought he had never seen a fairer picture than she made in her neat-fitting gown of Donegal tweed, with linen collar and cuffs, the masses of her bright hair ing colours, des what I . " I ought e seemed to at election- fe, and glad where's the 1 What a i with him never even lis patience, ke caused a ce. He was s. He did or hold, as political in- taught him through the back forty md for your ;s are made lope. Well, all about it, ,s not come .-|n. She J5. zz^^:^ ='- -^^ she sL. Baii° "1 h, ^'° ^^'''""^ as I expected," last election. Is ifnoTa &L k' •""™''' '■'■°"' ">^ enjoyed it al,, as the^Lvke d^oesTtn ~T "''" '°'' the excitement pall ?» ' ""' ™''°'» '"^''es are" at"*: tTbL"'' ^H Tht I"?-' ^' '^='^' ""«' ^ that Mr. Fletcher has had a LT-'*'"" " °°"'' '•°'g«' substantial meal." ^ '"""'^y- »"<» "ants a Fletcher re than she tweed, with bright hair CHAPTER XXXIII AT BAY ' 1 I^^Hiu < 1 fi ♦ Si LETCHER Had given many thoughts to the disappearance of Kitty Rooney even while his mind was full of his own affairs, and one of the first questions he asked on his return was whether anything had been heard of her ; but Kitty had disappeared as completely as the little heir of Ballymore himself had disappeared five-and-twenty years before. The first afternoon he was at leisure after his return Fletcher took a walk to Glendalough to call upon Father O'Hagan. It was a fine hard winter day, one on which it was a genuine pleasure to be abroad. The sun shone brilliantly in a cloudless sky, and the roads, held with a grip of iron, gave pleasant and easy footing. The slight depression caused by his defeat at Tyrone had almost entirely disappeared from Fletcher's mind. His joy at being back in the place where he felt so much at home, and where he was so truly welcome, v/as greater than he knew. He arrived at the Manse of Glendalough about four o'clock in the afteiiioon, only to find that Father 36s at 3Bag 263 O'Hagan was not at home, nor could his housekeeoer ot h,s return. Loth to go back without hearing some A.a,hva„„a, sure of fin^in^hrpoor .0^ a T^ and perhaps Ted also. When he arrived atT; cottage door and gave a gentle knock "LLJa feeble vo.ce bade him come in. He fou^d the WMow Rooney alone, propped up in her big easychair bv the 3,de of the fire, her hands listlessly fdd^ o^ her lap, and her whole demeanour indica«ng the quies inTrn KkT'"' ^°"°"- The latest' bwTd' :te:fedTer"dr^rl-:l1,^r "--« "Troth and it's a sad house ye come to sor"she sa,d as she extended her hand In greeting ° Wave rrragra„n\%^ '^"""^ "^"""^ '^^ ^^ --^ and'l:d rbeerarKlLtl sto:LT '"" ''"' -press my ,, J^y/u t ote^rbutTw 'errnelTast 'niglr^ ^" '"^ ^ ^-"'^■'*- -<« oni; in theTLubJ'nf^""'^ '""/"■ =°^' '" '"'«= ^" '""t^e^t saiZFtfLrll"^.^.^. T"'''^'^-" y"" "'""'>" , „,3.,,,^..^„^j^jj,^j| ■' Thev could nnf tdl me very much about poor Kitty at KilUntbu" J »64 U Son of Erin i understood them to say that nothing has ever been heard of her." The poor mother wrung her hands, and rocked her- self to and fro in the peculiarly despairing manner of her class. "Nothing. She's at the bottom av the sea, I belaive, or else the Evil One has run away wid her. The police have been doing everything they can, every wan says. But what good is the police > They've never done anybody any good that I ever heard av, although they're always at hand when nobody wants them." Fletcher scarcely smije(f at this scathing criticism. His own mind was full of suspicion, which indeed in this case almost amounted to certainty, yet he dared not communicate these suspicions to poor Kitty's relatives. There was no doubt in his own mind that Lyndon, and Lyndon alone, could throw any light on the girl's mysterious disappearance ; but until he had further proof he dared not open his mouth. He resolved, however, to set to work quietly, and learn step by step what had been Lyndon's movements from the day he had left Ballymore until his return. " If the poor child had had a swateheart or even an enemy," moaned the unhappy mother ; ♦' but there's nothing to help us out. It's just as if she had been spirited away, and a better daughter never lived. Oh, Kitty, me purty dariint, to think I'll never see ye more." The tears rained down her worn cheeks, and Fletcher, whose feelings though well under control were quick and fine, felt a lump in his throat. " What does your son think about it .? " «« Tiling oKxM,*- •> ! " — . t.^J «*_£, r> . * .i.ij.r «i^^-«s. it I icpcaicu iviis. xvooney, vaguely, "Oh- Ted's not the man he was. The throubles he at m^ 265 has had, poor boy, since his father died, have taken o!n '1:: tr °"' ^i '''"^- "^ ^- ^"^^^ doing his bit av work to drown his care, but he neither eats nor sleeps as he ought" " Poor fellow ! " said Fletcher, sympathetically. " Is h!. K f "" '"^ • ^^^ everything been done that can be done ? " he asked, as he rose to go. Shure, and I think so," answered the Widow an°rr\"^?/?'""^' "^' ''''' ^'« "verence says so and he should know." ^ * " It seems incredible thaf a ««« like Kitfv «^,^.,u 3i- ^"® y°""g^ Ionian Ike Kitty should disappear so mysteriously. This is the second tragedy of the kind in Glendalough I suppose you can recall the time when the heir dis appeared from Ballymore .? " " That I can," said the widow, her thoughts for he moment diverted from her own terrible ^so^w That was a cruel thing. It killed Sir Tom-God her elf\rd H ^'"' "" ^°"^ ^^^^ '^'^ ^^ ^ herself had done away wid him. God forgive me for saying ,t, but I was one that believed it." She IS not a favourite evidently in Glendalour^h " observed Fletcher. "Yet I don't see how she could ommit such a crime and escape detection. We don" live in the Middle Ages. Mrs. Rooney." Mrs. Rooney shook her head sor" and 'iv.^ ''"'"'^ '°"^ ^'"' '■" *■■' '^^^■y world, know h,. T -""r^" ''""" *'"S. Wan thing L; 77 ,**y '" ''«'' P'^^s "n do a heap thai poor folk wouldn't even dare think about. But Ttl aead. The old woman spoke with a ™-..~.r... mind. As he slowly crossed the field, in the direction 366 ' ; I i! -:■ B Son of JErin of Ballymore he could not help dwelling on her words, which were full of wisdom and truth. He felt moved to look once more upon the outside of the old house of Ballymore, but he had not been made welcome there on the occasion of his last visit, and no temptation to enter the house came to him ; he merely skirted the outer rim of the park, from which, however, through the now leafless trees he could obtain occasional and picturesque glimpses of the fine old building. He had no desire whatever to meet any of the Lyndons, even Terry. Some day, he believed, he would have a reckoning with the elder brother, but the time was not ripe for it yet, and even should he meet him now, he had no excuse f6r approaching even indirectly the subject of Kitty Rooney's disappearance. But though we may reason out a certain 'ourse for ourselves, it is not always easy to adhere t > ^" As he crossed the last hdd which separated the lands of Ballymore from the road he suddenly met Lyndon full in the face. He was out with a shooting party; but at that moment happened to be alone. He was in a very ill mood, already regretting what he had done. It was but little satisfaction to know that the girl he loved belonged to him, and was now completely in his power, since she was hundreds of miles away. At the sight of Fletcher Lyndon's brow grew black. He was in a mood to welcome a quarrel with anybody, and all his deeply-rooted and somewhat inexplicable vindictiveness against this man, of whom he actually knew so little, leaped to the surface. Fletcher was about to pass on with a distant recognition, when Lyndon, planting his gun between his feet, stood directly in front of him and forced him to stop. g on her words, He felt moved the old house 3 welcome there ) temptation to ely skirted the vvever, through occasional and ding. He had Lyndons, even would have a the time was meet him now, 1 indirectly the . But though 3r ourselves, it separated the suddenly met vith a shooting 1 to be alone. Jgretting what ction to know him, and was was hundreds cher Lyndon's »d to welcome deeply-rooted ss against this :tle, leaped to iss on with a nting his gun IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) V «p /. ^> V Oy^ A ARRUBD^ IIVMGE . Inc .^ar 1653 East Main Street .^g *- Rochester, NY 14609 USA ■=r^ Phone: 716/482-0300 .^=r-.S= Fax: 716/288-5989 © 1993. Applied Image, Inc , All Rights Reserved /- ^ M- ' I m it DlJ YCif KNOW I HAT IIIIS IS IHUAIK I'KOI IK lY {I'agC 2b7. at Xa^ 267 " Now, what the devil are you doing prowling round here ? This is the second time I have caught you. Do you know that this is private property ? " Fletcher slightly smiled, as he replied, quietly,— '•I must apologise for trespassing. I was merely taking a short cut to the road, and at this season of the year I did not think the fields would suffer." "That's not the point," cried Lyndon, angrily. " You know that you are trespassing here, and you've pt some motive for it. I suppose you've been sneak- mg round my tenants at Arraghvanna .? " " I have been to Arraghvanna, certainly, answered Fletcher. "Your tenants are not your slaves, Mr. Lyndon ; they are at liberty to receive what visitors they choose." "I shall tell them that if they can't shut their doors against such sneaks as you, I'll shut the door on them." " Yes > Say that to Ted Rocney ; the result would be mteresting," said Fletcher, with slight sarcasm in his voice. At this Lyndon's fury broke loose. "I've a jolly good mind to put a bullet through your impudent hide I " he cried, almost choking with passion. " You think because you have had the good fortune to get a place in a gentleman's house, and by some tricks known only to yourself wormed yourself into Parnell's favour, that you are going to lord it over everybody. I'll give you a piece of advice, sir. You mmd your own business, or one fine day you'll wish you had." Fletcher stood still a moment eyeing him steadily. If only he could penetrate below the suiface and read all that was passing in Lyndon's heart how cas course would be ! oy Alio i^m M • a68 H Son ot Erin " I am not going to stand here bandying words with you," Lyndon said. Then imagining that because Fletcher was silent he was in a manner cowed he con- tinued : " You see that fence ; put yourself outside of it as fast as you can, and the next time I catch you trespassing on my land I'll set the dogs after you." " Will you ? " asked Fletcher, quietly. Then sud- denly fixing him with his eyes, which had a strange, compelling glance in them, he added deliberately " What have you done with Kitty Rooney ? " ■ , ■ I 7 i - ■■■ , i ! "■ ■ i -,' i f'i : r^n I • f - CHAPTER XXXIV STRANGE CURRENTS |YND0N was not entirely taken by surprise. Some intuition had told him all along that Fletcher surpected him, and that through him Nemesis would follow upon the heels of his ill-doing. His face grew a shade paler, and his hands clutched the barrel of the gun witi* a firmer grip, but, brought to bay, he had sufficient courage to ''ow a bravft and defiant front. " I thought that's what you had in your head. Pray, do you think tiiat because you happened to see me speaking a word to her in passing one night that I have spirited her away ? " " I think that you are the only man in Glendalough that could throw any light upon this unhappy busi- ness," said Fletcher, steadily. "Why I have come to this conclusion is my affair, not yours, but I give you fair warning, I will unearth this mystery, and track it out to its bitter end if it should take me twenty years." You can try," said Lyndon, with a sneer ; " but It'll take a cleverer man than you to bring that par- ticular matter home to me= Supposing for a moment that there was any truth in your suggestion — do you 869 j: V. 370 H Son ot £rm think I would make such a fool of myself? I could have had the girl here for the asking, and nobody would have been any the wiser. Why should I take the trouble to entice her away ? " "You lie, and you know it," answered Fletcher steadily. " Kitty Rooney was a decent, self-respecting, and honest girl, and you have lured her away from' her home under false pretences. Of that I am quite certain. I can only assure you again that, as you have made that poor girl and her whole family suffer, so your sin shall be brought home to you. You shall not escape." Fletcher, who had now not the slightest doubt of Lyndon's complicity in the affair, strode on towards the fence which Lyndon had indicated, and vaulting lightly into the road pursued his way towards Killane. Lyndon stood a moment looking after him, and as he fingered the trigger of his gun there was murder in his heart. When Fletcher finally disappeared he wiped the damp perspiration from his brow, and took his way across the fields. A sudden impulse drew his feet towards Arraghvanna. He knew that at that hour he would not be likely to encounter Ted, for whom he was indeed as yet not prepared. By making a visit of condolence to the bereaved mother he might make an ally of her, and help to allay the suspicions which he felt were gradually being disseminated throughout the whole glen. The widow was sitting as Fletcher had left her, and looked up with melancholy pleasure in her eyes when the young squire entered. As yet no one had ever breathed either to Ted or his mother the breath of their suspicions regarding Kitty and the squire, She therefore welcomed him effusively, and blessed strange Currents 271 him for all his kindness in the matter of the re- pairs* "Shure and we thought the sun had riz on Arraeh- IT « w '°"^ '""'"■•" '^^ ^^'W' '" her quaint manner. "Aye are bora to trouble, the Book says this— oh, this IS the worst av all." " What is the general opinion about poor Kitty's utmost self-possession, ahd at the same time leaning easily against the spotless wooden table which stoof between the two windows. His whole manner a^ appearance were careless, indicating only the natural th"e .r&f ol' H-"'r' ' ""'"'^y "- -•^'>« '"e ^» tne trouble of his dependents. Widow Rooney shook her head "Mv"owr^r f^ "'1. '°"' "^ "^'"S^- »'•" ''he said. My own belief is that Kitty must have got out n , ' T 1, ^'■'='^'°'^' "' ^'^y- " ^°«>e of them .•^tiV ."*"'*'' '"*° "•* "^^ She may have bee^ „ h. t' T- °"' °f "^ °"" ='^'ers went quare in her head wance, and did that very thing." Did she, though.'" asked Lyndon, with a very deep interest. •■ Then I should think it was more thaT ' Th J V?T '■"" '" '■"'""'^^> I'^'e »'ways heard." «M iS „^ *' ^"^ '^'^ '° Ted again and again," "butt' °;T' "'''"^ ''^"^'f '° -<^ f™ 4in; but he won't listen. He says that Kitty wis as sound as a bell, and that she never went to doM roth"";. l^'V'''' ''"'" '» -"^ »"e evirman r^A I f * .1^" '°'"^' "'*'" 'he reach av Ted. then God help him, for his last hour will have come." (I p' rfr ;},)« • 79 H Son or Bdit At these words, spoken with the utmost deliberation, a sh'ght tremor crossed Lyndon's face. In his mad passion he had forgotten that he would have some- body to reckon with besides Kitty. Truly he had surrounded himself by a network of sin, from the consequences of which it would be difficult to escape. "But perhaps things will be explained before it comes to such a deadly pass," he said, as he rose to go. "The place is looking very nice. M'Ghee has done the repairs well." " Oh yes, the place is all right ; but things being as they are, and this dreadful throuble come on us, we can't take the comfort ip it we ought. Ted's not the man he was. I have just had a visit from that kind gentleman that lives at Killane, and I was telling him that Ted neither eats nor sleeps, and he's wearing himself to a shadow. Of course, Kitty and him were very thick ; they've never had a word that I remember since they were born." " I am sorry for you, Mrs. Rooney," said Lyndon, as he turned to go. " But don't let your spirits get too low. I feel sure you will hear of Kitty again." "Thank ye, sor. I'll tell Ted what ye say; an' good day to ye, an' may the Holy Virgin kape ye from all evil." Lyndon hasily withdrew. He was still young, and not sufficiently hardened in wickedness to be able to listen unmoved to the old woman's blessing. It haunted him much more persistently than the measured threat uttered by Fletcher. From that day Lyndon was a miserable man. Fletcher had sufficient to occupy his thoughts as he covered the ground between Glendalough and Killane. He was amazed at the strength and violence of Stranoe Currents ,,j Pi cable f„d"n-° '°"''"" ''™^^'^ *''^» " *=" ■■»'=''- r!ln H ^ '* unreasonable; but it was of no hirt .„."%"''J-"°"' *'''°'"'«'y convinced that Lyndon had enhced K,tty Rooney from her home, and hb m.nd was full of schemes for her discovery and of S7 '\'" '""""'■ ^' ""^ '»■"« withllT sight evL W T? ^^''" '° "''°'" ^' 6"™ " hearty good ? T.J''* '"°°" "*= ""'^ high in the heavens and sheddmg its full radiance over all the peaS o dt?"'' J^' "^^' "" ^° ''"■e"' 'hat it was possible to discern thmgs at a great distance. Father CVHagan instantly called to his driver to stop, and Fletcher stepped on to the roadway i'letcher sho'okln'd" ''*' °" *' "*"• '''''"" "' -•<'' - he "Not so very late. I've been at Bray, at the funeral of my old college friend. Pells Mahon U ha. made an old man of me," said the pries^adly ■ There is nothing like memories for bringing a man to the actual facts of life. I am sixty Ive I kel It to-day for the first time." ^ ' '; But you don't look i(i and nobody would ever Thrhome^' W- -d "'■' '"^'^•'"' ^""°^' affec^onatd" The homely kindness and exquisite simplicity of the good old priest's character and life had upset all Ind ^™'^\""P'''""=d Pf J«dices against the Church and creed he represented. It had done him good by nd hf str fi •*'" r *^ ^'^ -'i *h^= -hie of eve^tei '"^ '° "' '°""' """^ *^ "-"« Weli^Ihr T *°° *''""''"^' '"^" y™"g Mend. Well. I have not seen you since your campaign. Of, I8 — 1 , ■ s { •74 B Son ot iBtin Iff P^ ; ■ course, you don't expect me, being on the enemy's side, to condole with you. If we had lost Tyrone, I should have been in the dumps indeed." Fletcher smiled and said nothing. He had no temptation to a political discussion with Father O'Hagan. " I've been in Glendalough, at Arraghvanna, in fact, and I saw Mrs. Rooney. What do fou think about Kitty's strange disappearance, Father O'Hagan ? " The priest slid from the car, and putting his hand through Fletcher's arm drew him a little aside in the roadway. " I have many thoughts, Mr. Fletcher, and the last talk we had on this very matter often recurs pain- fully to my mind. Are you of the same opinion still ? " "I am. I met Lyndon to-day, and taxed him with it." " You did I " exclaimed the priest, looking at him with mingled surprise and admiration. He had often felt tempted himself during the last fortnight to put a straight question to Brian Lyndon ; but had hesitated, partly because his charitable mind urged him to give the young man the benefit of the doubt, and partly because Ballymore was the great house of his parish, and he did not wish to offend it without serious cause. " And what — what did he say .? " he asked, almost tremblingly. " Oh, denied it ; but it was the denial of a coward and a braggart," replied Fletcher. " I told him I should not rest until I had cleared up the whole mystery." " If you can do this, Mr. Fletcher, you will earn the strange CurrentB taxed him isked, almost will earn the 875 gratitude, not only of a family, but of a whole parish L nM '^ '" ""^ ^.'^'' '° ^° '' ' ^"' I ^"^ <^'d, and the old do not take the initiative successfully. But :o"LanJ.-'"' "-^^^^^^^^^ ' ^^" ^^- ^- -y " I shall think of my plan. I hear that Captain ^T *,"^,»^;,\^^"ghter are going to Scotland soon tnen l shall have more leisure" ^hiyj^'^'-I'lu ^''"'" ^^q"'«>''°"*« your services ehe where, said the priest with a significant smile. 1 recisely ! " An answering smile touched Fletcher's hps and after a few more words, chiefly relating to the affair in which they were both interested, They bade each other good-night. As Fletcher pursued his solitao^ way he was conscious of a more over- powering feeling of home-sickness than any he had yet experienced Perhaps some natural and pious touch n the good old priest had reminded him strongly of hat other good old man whom he loved with a son's love. His mother's face— sweet, patient, heart-satisfying -rose up before him, and he longed as he had never yet longed tor her actual presence. If there i e such a thmg in this complex life of ours as communion of spirits, It IS certain that at that moment Fletcher felt an incomprehensible nearness to those who, though Whe„"'I '' "°'i; r? ""'"""^ "^^^ ^'"^ '" the flesh. When he reached Killane a car which had been driven from the same train as that by which Father D^nf/ n f """"T .''°°^ ^"^°'" '^^ d«°^ '• ^"d when exceed lo°ot" ''"'"^' '^" '^ ^°^^ ^ ^^^^-^^3^ Scotland, he said, confidentially. « They're in the library now wid the captain." 276 H Son ot Erin w ' ■'^ Fletcher looked inordinately amazed at this announcenoent, and without pausing to question Denis further strode towards the library. Before, however, he reached the door it was opened from within, and Aileen stepped out. The colour was high in her cheeks, and her eyes shone with conspicuous brightness. " Oh, you have come back ; I am so glad," she said, excitedly. " Has Denis told you who is here ? " " He says some friends of mine have come from Scotland. Who is it?" " Your father and mother," she answered, " and a strange lady with them. They have come on a matter of great importance to you ; they are now telling my father something of the story. A more wonderful thing I have never heard." He passed her by, and strode through the half-open door, she following. At that moment he took no thought of her significant words. His one desire was to look upon the faces he loved, to clasp those true hands once more, and feel that he was not solitary upon the face of the earth. When Mary Fletcher saw him come in, and read aright that indescribable yearning on his face, she ran to him, and, forgetful of the strange eyes upon her, threw her arms about his neck. Then John came forward also, and, still holding his mother in a tender clasp, Fletcher gripped the old man's hand fervently. The one thought precious and soul-satisfying was that the child of their love had not forgotten or grown cold to them — nay, that time and change of circumstances had but served to knit his heart more closely to them in the qond of an affection which death alone would break. CHAPTER XXXV ^^■w r THE TRUE LYNDON [UCH supreme moments happen but seldom m a lifetime, and th»y are never much prolonged, the tension is too great ; they I,- K u*.™ ""'" *"'°"S the exceptional episodes wh,ch owe their very preciousness to their rarity. Of WW t° "^''r* **' *°'"'"'"e «ene the one upon whom It made the greatest impression was Therese Melvdle, also it stirred in her a vague envy; such love might have been hers had she not entrusted the child to the.r hands. Yet she did not regret it. Althoueh aturT^.Y^"' " ^°""l °' *' P^°P'«> ^he had 3 natural grfts, among others an astonishing power of d,scr,m,nat,on where character was concerned. She mtJ° '"f '". •■" "'""""' °f J°hn and Mary Fletcher, and anxious to atone so far as lay in h« power for the great wrong she had done to the chM she had placed him within reach of such fostering parental mfluences as are vouchsafed to very few Fie Cher looked with careless surprise at the tall^figu^' m Its neavy monminfT wot"? —Jr. *= i & '- „of o« u J" ----■'••&> vvondciing at her presence, and yet so absorbed in the joy of the moment that he could 377 ill' ?.'f''' ' i n « I, ' 1 f 1 H itt 11 I i i ■ ? 1 :•- 278 H Son ot £tin not connect her in ariy way with his past, present, or future. '• Oh, Robin, my man, but it is a joyful thing to see ye agen," said Mary, tremblingly, still keeping her gentle, clinging touch on his arm, in this giving expression to the fear that had never left her during the last days — that the great and wonderful news they had to tell would be the means of taking him from her for ever. " And looking so well, an' everybody speaking so kindly and praisingly o' ye," she added, with a glance at the captain and his daughter. "And to think o' the news we bring — it's just a miracle, nothing less." At this Fletcher looked round inquiringly, conscious of his own growing excitement, and feeling that some great crisis in his life was at hand. " Tell him, John," said Mary, feverishly, " tell him quick ; ye will tell it best." Thus admonished John began his tale. As it was gradually unfolded the varying emotions of Fletcher's soul were visible on his face. Once or twice he passed his hand across his brow in a somewhat dazed manner, as though he found it difficult to comprehend and realise what was being told him. " There never has been a mair wonderful story written or heard tell o', my lad," said John. " To think that you should hae been guided to this place, almost to the very gate o' your ain father's hoose ! " " Where is it } " inquired Fletcher, excitedly. "Which is it?" "Hae ye no' guessed.?" said John, quietly. "I would hae thocht now that ye were so clever ye would hae put two and two together already. Ye are Robert Fletcher no longer, not even Robbie Burns, as we ca'd i 1.- :, present, or trbe Urue %vnt>on 279 ye in oor pride that Januar' nicht, but your real name is Brian Lyndon. Man, do ye no see it ? Ye are the lost heir of Ballymore." At that intense moment all eyes were fixed upon Fletcher's face. He became suddenly and deadly pale his features worked, and the veins seemed to stand out hko cords on his broad, square brow. In a flash of deep intuition it all came home to him ; his unex- plained and yearning love for Ireland ; his strange and ever-deepening interest in the affairs of Ballym- - • the stirrings of heart of which he had been conscious when he stood before its old gateway and tried to make out the signification of its coat-of-arms ; all became clear as noonday to him, and there seemed scarcely need for a single question. " And this, I suppose," he said, turning his eyes for the first time on the face of Therese Melville, « this IS the woman who has had the secret all these years." " Ay," said John, « and she has repented before it is too late. You will not be owre hard upon her, Robin. She did ye an ill turn, but we canna blame her." The tender significance of these words awakened a quick response in Fletcher's heart. " Nor can I," he answered at once, and his arm tightened about the slender, drooping figure at his side, since if she had not done the ill turn you speak of I should never have known the joy ot a parent's love which you have bestowed on me so lavishly." "Oh, my laddie, my ain, ain son," cried Mary her heart relieved of its last misgiving, certain now that never, never would Rob disown them or be estranged from them even for a moment A sob disturbed the stillness ; It broke from Aileen, and, opening the door hastily, she left the room. Therese Melville stepped jl ?* hi I- 'if' f II J 'J HI ' I m^ 280 H Son of lErin forward to the table, and looking Fletcher full in the face spoke steadily, though in a low voice, — "I will not ask you to forgive me. I have no right to your forgiveness," she said. " The only comfort I have in looking back upon these years is the knowledge that you have not suffered at all, nay, that you have been surrounded, as you have said, by a wealth of love which would have been bitterly denied you at Ballymore. But I have robbed you of your birthright, all the same, for all these years. It is not too late, however, to reclaim it ; and I am here at no small risk to myself (since you can punish me if you will) to furnish all the proof that is required. Bring me face to face with Lady Lyndon, and you will ask no more." " I do not for a moment doubt what has been told me, madam," said Fletcher, with gentleness. "Nor have I any wish to blame you ; you were tempted, no doubt, and you fell. None of us are exempt from temptation and its consequences. I have suffered iittle, if at all. You have in reality done more harm to those who up till now have imagined themselves in an assured position which nothing could shake." He had Tom Lyndon in his mind as he spoke, his own half-brother, sons of the same father. The thought thrilled him, and yet filled him with a vague shrinking, because as far as the dreadful word hatred had a meaning to him he knew that he had hated his brother in his heart, and that his one desire had been to pursue him with relentless persistence in order that he might be made to suffer for the sin which had brought so much suffering upon innocent heads. At that m.oment the captain intervened. " It is plain that nothing can be done to-night, and er full in the XCbe xrrue Xl?n^on aSi you must all stay here. There is no help for it. and there is room enough and to spare in the house. I daresay my daughter has gone to arrange matters no^v. m the mornmg we can meet and talk over things with a more impartial mind. Meanwhile I think it would be well to telegraph to Wicklow to Mr. O'Grady. who is the family lawyer and adviser of the Lyndons. to come up here the first thing in the morning. Every- thing must be done decently and in order, so that our young friend may come to his own in a legal and dignified manner." ^ The wisdom of this advice instantly came home to the minds of all present. A look of quiet satisfaction came upon John Fletcher's face, and Robert himself ooked relieved It was a great thing for him in that critical and exciting moment, when temptation to rashness of speech and behaviour was natural and excusable, to have at his elbow the shrewd, practical common sense of Captain Byrne, who was a man of the world, and had a long and practical experience of " I will not intrude here." said Therese Melville as she drew her cloak about her throat. « I have no claim to your hospitality. Captain Byrne, nor to the consideration of any friend of Mr. Brian Lyndon " Fletcher heard the sound of the name, but did not apply it to himself until he noticed a faint, tremulous smile on his mother's lips. Then his own face hotly flushed and he turned aside to conquer the emotion he could not altogether control. At that moment Aileen, composed and cheerful, returned to the library and was at once appealed to by her father. " You can accommodate all the unexpected guests Aileen, I suppose .? " he said, brusquely. « Thi... lady 'it ¥ i m 283 21 Son ot lErin talks of leaving Killaine, but it is very late, and a long distance to the Station Hotel at Rathdrum." "Why, certainly," said Aileen, quickly. "I have already given orders for the rooms to be prepared ? Perhaps Mrs. Melville would like to go upstairs now. There is a fire, and some refreshments will be brought to you at once." Therese Melville bowed, and at once withdrew. She had no part nor lot with the united and happy hearts left in the library. She needed their pity, for she was a solitary and desolate creature upon whom the sin of her youth had lain with a heavy hand for many years. Aileen was quietly attentive, but scarcely cordial to her. It was not, of course, the difference of social position which gave a certain hauteur to her manner, but rather an inward indignation which the thought of the wrong done to the real heir of Ballymore made it difficult for her to be her usual kind and gentle self In the woman's presence she did her utmost, however, seeing to her comfort in every possible way, and then left her with a kind good-night, and begging her to ring her bell for anything she required. She was conscious of a distinct sense of relief, however, when the door was shut between them, and she sped back again to the library. " Now, will you come with me, dear Mrs. Fletcher ? " she said, linking her arm affectionately through hers, while Robert looked on, not so much astonished as he might have been perhaps, because, after all, true hearts will respond to each other in any circumstances all the world over, and there are few barriers which the true gentlehood, with its hallmark of simple manners and sincere words, will not break down. e, and a long CHAPTER XXXVI NEMESIS ADY LYNDON had observed that her elder son had not been quite himself since his return from Scotland. He had always been a high-spirited and cheerful youth, not subject to the moods of the more sensitive Terry. It was a new thing entirely for Tom to sit silent through a meal or to appear a prey to melancholy, yet such was the condition of affairs all the time his cousin Harry M'Neill was at Ballymore. "You seem awfully down on your luck, Tom," he said the morning before his own departure. "I think you'd better come back with me to-morrow and finish your visit. I'd a letter from Duncan this morning, and he's got the new yacht down from the Clyde anchored in Loch Moira. Wouldn't you just like to see her ? " The sea was a passion with Tom Lyndon, but Ballymore being an inland estate he had never had the opportunity, nor indeed the means, to go in for yachting. i3ut the old castle of the M'Neills, on the island of Glen Moira, was only accessible by boat, 383 II »f I ■ lilii 284 H Son ot lEvin and the whole family were as much at home on sea as on shore. " He says it's a stunner," pursued Harry, seeing the impression he had made. " Don't you think. Aunt Emily, Tom should come back with me, and Terry, too, if you could spare them both ? " " I hardly think it would be advisable at this season of the year," answered Lady Lyndon, at the same time she kept her eyes attentively fixed on the face of her elder son. During the past few days she had been conscious of a vague uneasiness concerning him, although she could not have put it into words. " Well, but. Aunt Ertiily, just think what an apology for a visit it was to come all the way to Moira and stay three days. We were all jolly wild, I can tell you." " Shut up, Harry ! " said Lyndon, with extraordinary asperity. '• What's the use of exaggerating, you know I was longer than three days." "No, you weren't," answered the ^oy, promptly. " You came only on Tuesday morning, and we came back here on Friday." "Oh, well, if you're so bent on the visit being finished, I'll go back with you," said Tom ; but he kept his eyes on his plate, and was careful to avoid his mother's gaze. She was much surprised, and had her own thoughts, though she said nothing at the moment. She did not, however, dismiss the subject from her mind. As the young men were preparing to go out as usual with their guns she had an opportunity for a private word with Tom. " I don't want to pry into your private affairs, Tom," she said, " because I am not one who believes that a young man should be tied to his mother's apron string Vlemesid home on sea •y, seeing the think, Aunt f, and Terry, It this season he same time B face of her he had been :erning him, words, it an apology ) Moira and it I can tell ;xtraordinary ig, you know y, promptly. Lnd we came visit being om ; but he ful to avoid led, and had tiing at the the subject preparing to opportunity ffairs, Tom," Sieves that a apron string 285 all his days ; at the same time I would like to know what you were doing during the week after you left nere, and before you got to Moira ? " Tom kept his eyes fixed on the nozzle of his gun and his mouth was hard set. At last he looked up' and said, quietly, — ^' affair." ^"^ "°* ^°'"^ *° *'" y°"' "^°*^"' ' '*'« "^y inJ'/h"'* r'i?l°" ^'^^'" ^'' "^°*^"'' ""^^^»-^d> ^ot betray- ing the slightest annoyance. "You are quite capable of looking after yourself, only take care not to ^et yourse f into any serious scrape. It is not so easy to get out again." ^ ^° Lyndon had already proved that, and for the more" ^^""^^^^ *° ""^^^ ^ confidante of his " May I ask you one question, Tom .? It is not a matter of very much moment to me ; but. still for ^in^>^ ^^"^^ "'^ '^ -'^'^y -y ----ty on a courSL'" ''"'^'^ but his tone was not en- asM "" ^°" ^"""^ anything about Kitty Rooney ?" she h.lf V!ir^ '"°"''"^* ^"^ ^'^""'^ ^^ ^°"Jd answer, the hall bell rang a tremendous peal. Lady Lyidon stepped to the projecting window u che "gunroom which was in one of the gables of the house but' whole ^rt.''' '""°"' '^'^' <=o"^n^anded a view of the .nH v' ^ '^'"'^' ^"" ""^ P"°P^^' '^o'"- Captain Byrne and his secretary, and Mr. C'Grady, and Goodness knows who also~a perfect army of Liegers? Wh^ on earth can it mean ? They're asking for me, Tom if t; 1 . ! . i. ■r a86 H Son of £rin p! •, . \ but I hear O'Grady asking if you're at home, too. Now, what on earth does this mean ? " She was a bold, brave woman, but she also grew pale and felt the bondage of a slavish fear. Mother and son had grievously sinned, and the hour of retri- bution was at hand. The butler, looking much per- plexed, presently came to tell them of the company which had assembled in the drawing-room. " It's a crowd of people, me lady," he said, with a distinct note of wonder in his voice, " and they want to see your ladyship and the squoire ai once." " There is nothing for it, Tom ; we must go. What- ever it is we've got to face it now. You take the cue from me. You may trust me to do the best possible in all circumstances." With these enigmatical words which Tom, harassed by the burden of his own fears scarcely understood, the mother and son crossed the hall together to the drawing-room door. Within the room they found assembled a party of six persons, only three of whom Lady Lyndon recognised. She seemed to draw herself to her full height as she swept into the room, leaving Tom to close the door behind her. Her haughty face wore a look of determination and deflance, and she scarcely returned the grave salutations bestowed upon her by Captain Byrne and Mr. O'Grady. " To what do we attribute the honour of this invasion as I must call it ? " she asked, with a slight smile. At that moment, however, the tall figure in mourning standing in the furthest window, a figure which Lady Lyndon had neither observed nor recog- nised, turned slowly and put back the heavy widow's veil of crape which enveloped her face. Then a ghastly and awful change came upon Lady Lyndon's face, and she almost gasped for breath. Kemesis 287 " I see from your ladyship's expression," said Mr. O'Grady, with cold politeness, " that an explanation of our ' invasion; as your ladyship has called it, is hardly necessary Here stands Therese Melville, who at your instigation stole your step-son, Brian Lyndon. These are the Christian people who have been parents to him for over twenty years, and here," he said, turning to Fletcher, "stands Brian Lyndon himself, rightful Squire of Ballymore." A dead silence followed upon these measured words. Lady Lyndon stood absolutely still, without a tremor on her set face or a single indication of emotion. It was far otherwise with her son. At this announcement which, if it were true, robbed him of his name and place, he turned upon her with a look which none present ever forgot. " In God's name, mother, is this uue > Is it that fellow there, whom I have hated with a hatred I could not understand .? Is it true that he, and not I, is the master of this place ? " "Softly, softly, Tom," said his mother, with a strange smile. " These good people have to prove their point. Therese told me the child was dead many years ago, and gave me such proofs as I thought necessary. For her own ends, doubtless because she has been well paid for rt, she has agreed to give this ambitious young man and those in league with him the benefit of her services. The proof, Mr. O'Grady ! " she said, turning swiftly to the lawyer. "With these people I have nothing to do. I will not speak to them, nor will I listen to a word they have to say. With you alone shall I deal ; and I give you warning that I will contest this claim to the uttermost for mv son's sake and my own fair name." Ill 980 H Son ot £rfn A pitying smile touched for a moment the grey- headed lawyer's lips. He had been the trusted friend and adviser of the late Sir Tom Lyndon, and for his sake had never relaxed his interest in the old place, though he had but little in common with those in authority over it. " The proof will not be lacking, Lady Lyndon," he said, somewhat sadly. " It is hardly likely that I should be taken in with a story which will not bear investigation. But before we enter upon the smallest detail I would only beg you to look for a moment at Mr. Brian Lyndon. I. think that you will agree with me no other proof is needed." Brian stood on the hearthrug directly below the portrait of his father in his hunting garb. Captain Byrne gave an exclamation of surprise, marvelling that never until this moment had the likeness struck him. As Mr. O'Grady had said, there was no other proof needed, his identity was practically established there and then. Tom Lyndon gnashed his teeth, and swearing a dreadful oath flung himself out of the room. It the grey- usted friend and for his s old place, ith those in Lyndon," he kely that I ill not bear the smallest moment at I agree with below the b. Captain marvelling mess struck as no other established is teeth, and out of the CHAPTER XXXVII THE HARVEST OF SIN HAT Strange interview lasted half an hour longer, and with such consummate skill and effrontery had Lady Lyndon borne herself throughout that, when they left, the simpler minds among them felt somewhat confused and were inclined to believe that it would be impossible for Brian Lyndon to establish his claim to Ballymore. "So far as I am concerned," he said, as the carriage rolled slowly down the long avenue, " they are welcome to remain where they are. I have no desire to take possession of the place. It is enough if my title and claim are established; only," he added significantly, « there will have to be a change in the relations between landlord and tenant." At these words Captain Byrne and the lawyer ex- changed glances which Brian could not misunderstand " The first thing to be done, anyhow, is to establish your claim, my boy," observed the captain. "What a woman Lady Lyndon is I Did you ever see such effrontery, Mr. O'Grady ? " "I have known her kdyship for a great many 2S9 19 i 1 190 21 Son or Erin it.:.; years, Captain flyrne ' answered the lawyer, quietly, " and I am no stranger i ) her capabilities." While they were thus quietly discussing the extra- ordinary turn in the affairs of Ballymore, Lady Lyndon, left alone, gave way for a moment to the terrible reaction bound to follow upon such an exciting hour. The moment the door closed upon her she sank into a chair breathing heavily. Her face lost its proud, defiant look, and expressed only the anguish and despair of her soul. If there was one being on earth she loved it was her son Tom. He was the very counterpart of herself, and the thought that he was H' ,y prir*ically homeless and nameless seemed to burn like a hut iron into her soul. She had not failed to observe the terrible expression on his face as he hastened from the room, and though she knew that she would not be a welcome sight to him, she felt moved to know and to hear the worst. It was impera- tive, besides, that they should consult together with- out delay in order to decide upon their course cf action. She rose at length, and, wiping the cold perspiration from her brow, proceeded to the dining- room, where she took from the sideboard a small glass of brandy, which brought the colour back to her pale cheeks, and infused a new courage into her heart. Then she went in search of her son. In the lower rooms he was nowhere to be found ; evidently he had not joined the shooting party, be- cause she found his ^'ta where he had dropped it. For a moment the fear : r^k ber lest he had done some harm to himself, lu . ih? v.as able to dismiss it almost as quickly as it cjics. She kn-^i- her son well, and believed him to be too thoroughly a coward at heart to lay hands on himself. It occurred to her as yei, quietly, J the extra- more, Lady tient to the an exciting •on her she face lost its :he anguish le being on vas the very hat he was Tied to burn tot failed to face as he knew that im, she felt was impera- [ether with- r course of g the cold the dining- rd a small back to her o he I heart. be found ; party, be- dropped it. i had done ) dismiss it er son well, coward at :d to her as fo'orTh^H''"'''tr»!" '^' '"'^^'^ °^ *he gun-room floc^ that he might have gone to a little quaint room Lfs\TT ^'^' '-''''' "^'^^ "- "-d some- times as a smr.k,ng-ro .,T>, and had always been a L1!h^ c:'"^ ""'"^'"^ ''^''' ^'th feet which somewhat h!n she r/t' "°' ^''' ^'""" ^"^ unscrupulous than she had been twenty years before, but her physical strength was less. She felt the effects of the esfabTeir? 't' '?' ,""' ^^'^P^' °" ^^^^ -- " wTh K K . ' *^' '°°^ °^ "^"^°^' ^'"dictive hatred room ' '°" ^'''^'^ '^'^ ^^^" '^' ^"t^r^d the fixe^'oTth?"'!!'"^ °'/^" window-seat, with his eyes fixed on the rolling uplands of the fair domain which III ": be"':r'H-- \''''''' ^'^ ^^"^^^' ^- Lyn'o was to be pitied ,n that most bitter hour. He was young but during the years of his short life he had made few friends and many enemies. Being without nrr^'' '\ ''"' ""'' P°^'^^- ^- desperate taking the precaution to turn the key ; then she ao proached the window. She had a hark task befofe" her. and she knew it ',vell. 'Vi^ook ut me, Tom," she said, with a touch agitatbn"''"r: "''^\°?^^ '^^^^^^^ ^- '--' agitation. Look up, and let us talk this dreadful tharr^n""- V' °"'>^ ^^ '^^-^ -""-^ togett that anything can be done." B="'cr He turned his head sullenly. mend^Iv*h,'*"''"^ '".*'" '"°'^'^ ""' "^'■*'"- «>»ke nor Talt "V!"?"'^':^- "I --•• y-'d go and leave m; hat'the^i^rofi::;"""^"' ""^ '"°^'- '° '"^'^« I ' ag2 U Son ot Brin t:i» These were cruel words, but Lady Lyndon scarcely winced under them. She was prepared for them, and able to make every allowance for anything he might say. " I know how you feel," she said ; " but before you blame me too much you might take into consideration for a moment for whose sake it was done. It was not for my own sake ; I had nothing to lose nor gain, remember that." " Then it is true ? " he said, in the same sullen voice. " I had hoped that perhaps it might be a trumped-up story." " We are going to , treat it as such," said his mother. " It is that I have come to talk about, and not to listen to any useless recriminations. If you will help me I'll fight the case out to the bitter end, and deny everything ; but of course unless I have your co-operation I can do nothing." " Where is the good ? " he asked, almost savagely. '• It would only be a losing game from the beginning, besides dragging the whole story through the public prints. I don't think that anything would be gained by it, but much lost." " And will you walk out quietly, then, and allow that insufferable upstart to usurp your place > " she asked, shutting her lips with something almost like a snarl. " There is nothing else I can do, and you know it," he answered. " I wish to heavens you had dronped me in the Lough, or over these battlements, before you brought me to this. What am I to do ? " he asked, turning upon her fiercely. " I have no occupation, I have no talents, no profession, whereby I can earn my living. We need not expect anything from him. I shall have to beg or starve." don scarcely d for them, anything he : before you :onsideration •ne. It was )se nor gain, sullen voice, trumped-up 1," said his : about, and •ns. If you ; bitter end, iless I have )st savagely. 5 beginning, the public d be gained d allow that " she asked, e a snarl, ou know it," lad dronped , before you " he asked, ccupation, I an earn my )m him. I XTbe fbavvcst of Sfn 293 "No, no. Tom," said his mother, with a half ^stT:LT'. "k/'^" '^^^ ^ ioin'ture V. the thing Vory^^^^^ '°"'' ^°"^ ^^^"^^^^^^ -" <^o some- "Bantry!" exclaimed Tom, with a slight sneer He hates me like poison ; he'll do noth 1^^ r^oice over my discomfiture, and tell me to go^ and safisf^cdo7l """^- '' ^'^ '°^^^'^^- T^-t's % 2t HetT^' ^'°T' ^°"' ^ '^^^^ ^^' ^'^"^ Lord Bantry. He may do somethmg for Ter^., but never for me." ^ K-.r^c.^^"''°" "^^^ ^"^"*' and her thoughts were bitter She knew that Tom dM not exaggefate For Brr;Td'"'^^ "T '^^ '^''^'^ thf 'o^E J: Bantry, had conceived an unaccountable dislike to his elder grandson, for whom, with the g uff out^ Td ::d" A .h V"^' '^ '^' frequently pfedL; a bad end At that moment life seemed bitter almost impossible, to the proud woman's heart morrtwTshe'^°"/"^ ^° f' ^°^^^ "^^^ «ariy to- morrow ? she said, presently. « It will be as well I think, If you go out of the way for a few davs • aMp.c! until matters shape themselves a little" ^ ' h.'J Tu ?u'"f *°'^^>''" '^'^ Tom, flinging up his head with the first display of energy or fnte^rest"^ "I sha n t stay another hour in this house to be trampled on by that sneak at Killane. I wish I La . bullet through him the other day'asTL'in'c^r ' mothli: TpriL ""' ""'^ "^'^ ''"^ •'" -^^^ ^- •; Yes, more than once. I can't stand the fellow • he IS too beastly meddling, and there is one th^g ^^^ the world T am n^*-tsir i-f —-.-u '^ ' ""ug in ci,« — °^' ixiother — It IS that he won't 11 ! 294 B Son ot iBvin M il ■ > " I don't propose to give in so easily, Tom," said his mother. "As O'Grady has gone over without a word to the enemy's side, I shall have to get some one else to take up our case. Understand, I shall not deny having tried to get rid of the child ; what I will deny and fight to the bitter end is the pretence that he is still alive, and that that fellow is he." Tom looked at his mother for a moment, secretly admiring her courage, although he knew it was a forlorn hope. " You'd be a fool, I think," he said, " to take up any such position. I tell you it won't hold water. I don't believe you'd even get a lawyer to act on your behalf. Believe me, mother, it will be far better just to go out quietly without any fuss ; it will pay us much better in the end. I am going to clear out, any- how, and I question whether Ballymore will ever see me again." " But what can you do, Tom } " his mother asked, anxiously. " As you have said only a moment ago, you have no resources." " I shall have to make them, then," was his sour retort. " Anyhow, I'm going, and this very day." " Where ? " " Oh, I don't know. Don't ask me any questions. Leave me alone. You've ruined me, and destroyed my whole life. Leave me alone ! " So this was Emily Lyndon's reward for the crime she had committed for the sake of her unborn son. The sharp anguish of her soul was such that she could have cried to him for mercy, but she sat silent, stricken dumb by the despair which seemed to be closing her in on every side. "I forgive you, Tom," she said, in an unusually Tom," said r without a Bt some one I shall not what I will etence that !nt, secretly ' it was a to take up d water. I ict on your better just ;ill pay us ar out, any- ill ever see >ther asked, oment ago, as his sour r day." r questions, jstroyed my r the crime unborn son. t she could sat silent, ;med to be 1 unusually Zbc Darrest of Sin 29$ gentle voice. « Of course, I know that it is a terrible thing for you ; still, you are young—your life is all before you. We have still some influence— if not through your grandfather, in other quarters. It may be possible to get you a good appointment at home or abroad." "Abroad it must be," said Tom, sullenly. "I will not stay here to be the laughing-stock and the Jibe of the whole country, and to see that upstart usurping my i lace." " Promise at least to wait until to-morrow ? " she said, entreatingly, « and go away quietly and naturally with Harry. There is no use giving people undue occasion for talk." He smiled somewhat bitterly. " You will try to keep up appearances to the last, mother," he answered, but gave her no promise good or bad. So little heed did he pay to her wishes that he was a passenger by the night boat from Dublin to Glasgow, where he arrived in the chill grey dawn of the winter morning to find the city enveloped in an impenetrable yellow fog, through which the rain fell with pitiless steadiness. Nothing more dreary could be imagined than that cab drive in the early morning to the obscure street on the South Side where Tom Lyndon had hidden the Pride of Arraghvanna. Kitty Rooney had given up much for those she loved, but she had only realised the stupendous magnitude of her sacrifice when she found herself alone in that dismal city where throughout the long winter days she never caught a gleam of the sun, or ^ „ Dr^a^i ^i x.cah, puriiying air. Sometimes the poor caged bird grew desperate, beating its wings against its prison walls, and felt inclined to brave all i age H Son of iBvin consequences and fly back to the sweet air of its mountain home. Accustomed all her life to early hours, Kitty was unable to sleep long in the morning, and was always astir before seven o'clock. She was therefore dressed and sitting down to her simple breakfast in the dingy little sitting-room when Lyndon's cab rattled noisily up to the door. < i air of its ife to early- lie morning, :. She was her simple com when "she Sl'KANCi UP Wnil A LKV Ol' JllNCl.KU JOY ANU Af'I'HKHENSION. [J\l£C 297. PHEHENSION. [/-".I^'f 297. CHAPTER XXXVIII HUSBAND AND WIFE HEN she saw him she sprang up with a cry of mingled joy and apprehension. She did not love him with her whole heart, but — . ^"^ ^^^ h's wife, and she had given ud everythmg for him. She saw that he looked Vagga^J and worn as if he had passed a sleepless night and the thought that he might be in trouble awaken;d in her hear a rush of tenderness towards him warmer han anything she had yet felt for him. He was still ufficiently in love with her to forget for a momen in the joy of meeting tne desperate errand upon which he had come He clasped her to his heart! assuring her again and again of his unaltered affection warning J^'^^^'^" T". '°"'' '° '°°"' ^"^ ^^*^°"t any warnng.? she asked, anxiously. "You said when you left me that it might be a month before you could come again." "ciurc you " I expected that it would be a month dearest suspSon/' ''' ^"^^ ^^^^'^^^^^^^^ -^ -^^-t At the word suspicion she winced. The idea of a 297 298 B Son ot Erin :, s hidden and secret marriage, and the whole mystery surrounding her present life, was hateful to the frank and open soul of Kitty Rooney, and she only endured it because of the benefit it had conferred upon those she loved better than anything on earth. " Tell me how they are, my mother and Ted ? " she said, feverishly. " Have you seen them, and oh ! what are they saying about me? What do they think?" Wholly absorbed with his own troubles Lyndon for the moment felt inclined to resent her anxious solici- tude for those to whose ^ cruel anxiety he had given but little thought "Oh, they are all right. It is not long since they discovered that you had never been to Monaghan. Of course, they are a bit anxious, and think of all sorts of things. I saw your mother the other day. What do you think is her fear ? " Kitty clasped her hands, but she could not form a question. The matter was too serious and terrible to her to be treated lightly. " She thinks that you have followed the example of some ancestress. I forget precisely what relation she was. I mean the lady who walked over the Brow Head at Bray and put an end to herself." At this Kitty laughed hysterically, but her eyes were full of tears. " It will be all right by-and-by," he said, soothingly. " They'll soon know the right way of it. The secret will have to come out sooner than I expected, or indeed intended. I have come to tell you, Kitty, what a fearful calamity has happened to me. I am no longer Squire of Ballymore." " What can ye mane ? " asked Kitty, with round, ole mystery to the frank mly endured upon those Ted?" she I, and oh ! it do they Lyndon for xious solici- id given but J since they aghan. Of all sorts of What do not form a , terrible to example of relation she T the Brow Jt her eyes , soothingly. The secret :d, or indeed tty, what a 1 no longer with round, t)usban& anb muc 299 wondering eyes. « Tell me quickly, or are you only playing a bit joke off on me >" "No; I only wish it was a joke." said Lyndon, gloomily. I don't need to ask whether you know the old story about the child, my half-brother, who disappeared from Ballymore before I was born." "Yes, I have heard av him often and often," said Kitty, and then waited for him to tell her the rest not caring to repeat what had often been the common talk of the parish, which had never scrupled to blame Lady Lyndon for that strange mystery. "Well, he's turned up," said Lyndon, with the same gloomy grimness, " and there's nothing left to me but to walk out as gracefully and with as little fuss as possible." Kitty sat aghast, scarcely able to comprehend the full meaning of his words. " And where has he been all these years ? " she managed to ask at last. « It was thought that he was drowned in the Lough." " Well he wasn't. I may as well make a clean breast of ,t to you, Kitty, and tell you the whole story. My mother paid his nurse to get him out of the way It was a mistake, of course, and I wonder that such a clever woman as my mother could ever have made it. It is only in novels that these things ever turn out successfully. A secret can only be kept by one person, Kitty, not by two or three." " And he has come back, did you say ? " " Yes ; I don't think that I should have minded so much if It had been anybody but the person it is You know that sneak of a fellow that is Captain Byrne's secretary at KiUane. You do know him, because hes been at A.rraghvanna more than once; that's the 300 a Son of JErln I ■ W!' man who has ruined me, and in whose favour I have go, to resign." Kitty sat silent, overwhelmed indeed with her sur- prise at this strange story. "I never saw him," she said, at length. "I was out at Father O'Hagan's the day he called at Arragh- vanna. He only spoke to mother." " But you have seen him," corrected Lyndon. " It was he who passed us that night in the Ballymore Woods. Don't you remember .? " " Oh yes, I do," said Kitty, and shivered slightly as the memory of it s\yept over her. It struck Lyndon all of a sudden that stie had received the information very calmly an'd indifferently, and that the warm, loving sympathy which he had expected, and which he told himself he had a right to expect, was not forthcoming. "You don't look very sorry for me, Kitty," he said, in rather an aggrieved tone. "Perhaps you don't realise what it all means. It means that that fellow is Squire of Ballymore, that he will live there, and that I shall have to turn out and get my living as best I may." " Ballymore is a very big house, Tom," said Kitty, innocently. "Would there not be room for all? Mother said that he was such a kind gentleman, I'm shure he wouldn't moind." At this guileless suggestion Lyndon laughed bitterly. " You don't know what you are talking about, Kitty, and perhaps 1 ought not to expect that you hould ; but what I want to know is what I am going to do with you. I shall have no means ; I have never been taught to work. I shall have to go abroad to seek my fortune." ■fcusbant) an& Witc ivour I have rith her sur- th. "I was i at Arragh- yndon. " It e Ballymore ered slightly ruck Lyndon information : the warm, , and which ct, was not Kitty," he 'erhaps you ns that that 11 live there, et my living ' said Kitty, m for all ? itleman, I'm jhed bitterly, ibout, Kitty, >^ou hould ; joing to do never been 3ad to seek Kitty sat still, looki 301 her hl.,rr««' • J ' .T" ^ through the narrow, blurrea window w.th a strange far-off look on her face. She was thmkmg that her sacrifice had been in va.n that she had given herself to a man for whom she had no real love, only to find too late thaTth^ destmies of those she loved were lifted clean out of h.s hands or hers. She had occupied most of her lonely hours m looking into the future picturing herself as the Lady of Ballymore dispensing good ^ ft! wKh a royal hand to those who had been opp^reLed so long; and now these dreams were all shatS not even the smallest or least ambitious of th m couS have any ulfilment A despair almost as blTnk and overwhelmmg as Lyndon's own seemed to settle down upon her soul shutting out all else. She did not even give a thought to the deprivations of which Lyndon matters of more serious moment. To her it was not and never could be any hardship to work, nor could she whh hl^r"! "'" "''' '''' ^" ^^^-^ ^-> blessed with health and strength and mental capacity could be an object for much pity. So they sa"^' sHeit regarding each other, as far apart in heart and T„ purpose as if the Poles had separated them, V" were husband and wife, at least so Kitty believed though Lyndon himself thought otherwise."^ He dfd not seek to break the silence, his own thoughfs we e of a very peculiar and conflicting nature At thl! moment the greater calamity seemed to fade tn some absorbed by thoughts of the girl sitting so ouietlv opposite to him. What was he to do with her ^ til was the first to break the silence ^' " What for would you be going away to a foreign 3oa H Son ot Erin country, Tom ? " she asked. " Shure, there's plenty av work in Ireland or in Scotland. It won't take nauch to kape us, and I can work myself. I have been used to it all my days." Lyndon faintly smiled. Kitty spoke in good faith ; but the unconscious irony of her speech created in him a grim amusement. It was a comedy they were enacting, a comedy which at any moment might be turned to tragedy. He had but to toll her the actual facts of their relation to each other to raise the tempest in her undisciplined soul. But he would not be premature ; he must wait until things were matured a little, until events Svere developed. Meantime it was pleasant and comforting to be at her side, once more to hear the sweet music of her voice, and see the slow wonder gather in her beautiful grey eyes. " What are you thinking, Kitty ? " he asked presently, observing the concentration of her look. " I was just thinking that there'd be no more word of evictions in Glendalough," she said. " Mother said Mr. Fletcher was all agin' them." " Well, we'll see. It is very easy to talk righteously about what another man ought to do with his property ; it's a very different matter when it comes to one's own. For me, I don't care a hang what becomes of Glendalough, or how he manages the place, so long as I am not there to see, and I only hope I won't come across him, or I'll put a bullet through him as sure as I'm saying it now." " Oh, Tom, you wouldn't" cried Kitty, in distress. " It isn't his fault, poor gentleman ; and, besides, look how hard it has been for him all these years when he ought to have been at Ballymore. What are thc}- going to do to her ladyship for it ? " there's plenty It won't take I have been in good faith ; :h created in 2dy they were ent might be her the actual to raise the he would not were matured Meantime it ler side, once oice, and see rey eyes, ked presently, no more word 1 " Mother Ik righteously do with his hen it comes a hang what manages the :e, and I only put a bullet >t ^ in distress. besides, look ^ears when he 'hat are thc}- l)U0ban& anb Mite 303 "I don't know ; nothing, I expect. I am sick of the whole th.ng, and I've a good mind to take a passage for you and me to America, and never look on the place again." Kitty shook her head. " I won't go to America," she answered, quietly ' But why, Kitty ? " he asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. « It can't matter to you where you go now ; besides, a wife has to follow her husband Isnt that the reading of Scripture?" Kitty made no reply for a few moments, then she put another and quite unexpected question. " I have been thinking that now it can't matter how soon I go back. If I am not to be the Lady of Bally- more, but only a poor man's wife as you say I can go back now to Arraghvanna to mother and led There is no use for you to spend money kaping me here, it would be better to save it." "Are you, then, so anxious to go back?" said i^yndon, jealously. -; I must go soon," she said, quietly, but with a depth of feeling there was no mistaking. « If you hadn't come to-day I think I should have gone. I could not wait another day. " But listen Kitty ; you can't go back yet, it would be madness to let the secret out so soon. You must wait at least until I have made some plans, until we know what IS going to happen. I am disappointed," he said assuming an aggrieved look and tone. "I came expecting to be comforted and cheered, only to find you grumbling and discontented." nj i mR^-^^j^i a VM^W'' 'i' [yif^jiK'* S^jSS^^*'^ CHAPTER XXXIX AT HIS WITS' END YNDON ioon tired of staying in Glasgow beside Kitty. It had been a relief to escape from Ballymore in the first shock of the unwelcome revelation regarding Fletcher's real parentage, but very soon he found himself longing to get back to learn all that had transpired during his absence. He gave a good deal of thought to the ultimate fate of Kitty Rooney, but supposed that sooner or later she would go back to Arraghvanna. He intended to take care, however, that he got himself clean out of the country be- fore that happened. He had quite decided to go abroad, nor had he any intention of taking Kitty with him, although he continually spoke as if it were a settled matter that they should go abroad together. Had he been gifted with even ordinary powers of observation he might have taken alarm from Kitty's very quiescence. She listened to what he had to say on the subject, but seldom made any remark on her own account. Lyndon imagined her to be indifferent, or at least only too willing to follow in any arrange- ment he might make ; but it was far otherwise. Kitty 304 at bi0 Mils' EnO 3^. was no fool, neither was she ono of those olastic ,n,i tiXTtf"." natures that leave their ^elts en' h ely .„ the hands of others. She had left Ireland w.th Lyndon for no other reason than to avert the ouTh and :T"°^\ "' '"^ ^™''°- ^^^ «-d- home whlh ""='"■%''" "°'h"'^ continuance in the teotion nf , "*" '1^'" *° ^"' •»" *= had no in- laT A. T'"? ^" '"'''' f"' «™^ °n •>«' native and. Already a longing desire for her old home and .m°:: :eLe7t' 's " """■"'^ =° ^'™"^ "•^' '■' »- It to Ljndon. He was not, and never had been svm pathetic where her family was concerned ;„";»"» »w that he was jealous of her affection for' them! and names K^t^'^ «""«'aged her to mention their come con^H^ ";° ""■* P"''" '° P'"' »» ""wel- come confidence; she therefore held her tongue Lyndon did not know how unwise he had been In to own mterests ; he had made the profound mistake of .mag.„,„g that because Kitty was a%irl of thf people btdiSfn ZIJT ''""" -' "- -™P'«' '- .tZrtott'L'ornrofg^Ljr-'" -'- ^^^^-^ t« "n17 '°°"* ^"""S ' ' »" J"^' taking a run back to Ballymore to see what has happened and whaHs without fa.1, and tell you everything, also my plfns for the future It is possible that i I deSde ha we go to America we will sail from here but n wnte and tell you everything, and if pos^ble a a I II come next week." or 1.^' ^'^^i "°f ''^' ^"' "^^^ "° comment, good or bad, on what he said. Lyndon was too much 20 ) ! 3o6 a Son ot Erin -:l: h occupied with other thoughts to take particular notice of her silence, besides, he had become accustomed to it, and had often said to himself that Kitty had left all her spirit, and with it a good deal of her charm, in Glendalough. He did not believe for a moment that she would take any desperate or extreme step without consulting him. So far he had not had a bit of trouble with her. She had been amenable to every suggestion he had made, especially regarding the need for keeping their marriage secret. He was too superficial hiinself to divine that there was the smouldering fire of a volcano under that calm exterior, ready at any moment to burst into flame. So he took himself away with a comparatively light heart from Glasgow. He had taken the trouble, however, to make sure that she could not possibly follow him by the very simple precaution of not leaving her sufficient money. He made an arrangement with the landlady so that she would have everything she required, but took care not to give her any hard cash himself. " I am so beastly hard up, darling," he said, as he tried to explain his apparent niggardliness. " I have made it all right with the landlady, and you must just try and get along with these few shillings until I come back. I must tell my mother at once, so that she may understand that I must have some money immediately. Don't look so woebegone ; I'll make it all right; that's what I'm going back for now, and perhaps I'll telegraph for you instead of coming myself. It would save the expense of the double journey." " Yes, it would," answered Kitty ; but there was neither elation nor hope in her heart. She did not believe a word he was savin^r. The last- Inr^t nn Kitty's face haunted Lyndon until he was half-way irticular notice accustomed to Kitty had left her charm, in moment that ; step without had a bit of lable to every ding the need He was too I ere was the calm exterior, So he took It heart from however, to follow him by ; her sufficient 1 the landlady required, but limself. ie said, as he :ss. " I have md you must illings until I once, so that some money ; I'll make it for now, and oming myself, ourney." Jt there was She did not last look on was half-way at bis Mits' jEn5 307 across the Irish Sea, and he cursed the folly which Ahho'fh^'l".'"'^" ''"^^^^ "'^^ -^^ -- incubus Although he had not admitted it as yet to himself his rt "camf " "" ^?.^-^-^' leaving herbehin^ th L I "^^'^' ^'' Jo^'-ney's end, however, his thoughts became more engrossed with the affairs of Ballymore. He felt feverishly excited as he drew nearer home, wondering whether he should reach Bally, more to find it already in the possession of the usu^e"^- He hired a car at Rathdrum, but the man who drove It was a s ranger to him, and he felt no inclination lo a little "f^""^""- ""' "'^"'"^^ '' '- ^^^ -^dway a little below the gates, and, walking to the lodoe apped hghtly at the gatekeeper's door.^ She came ou^ curtseymg as usual. ^ home^;-" ""''' '^'''^" ^' ^^''^- " 1= "y ■'•'°'her at " Oh, where is Mr. Terry ? " „ J'tf"""^' .?"' ""'^ ^°"* '° Scotland with the youn? gentleman that was here." y^^ag Lyndon nodded and passed on. relieved for the momen to know that as yet no radical change had reason that he should not have to encounter Terry a?d thrr r' "".'' ^'"P'"'^' '^^'*«" the brothers and the feehng that Terry was willing to welcome agamst him. It was about two o'clock in the after- noon when Lyndon entered the house. His mother had just finished her lunch, and was sit" g S,yt and the T.^'T' ""-'^ «senting her son's%bsence and the fact that she was left to bear her great 3o8 H Sou ot JUvin li.:|lN trouble alone, when the door was suddenly opened and he entered. She sprang up with an almost hysterical exclamation of surprise. The shock of dis- covery and the inevitable strain of the past week had told upon Lady Lyndon's hitherto iron nerves. She would start at the slightest sound, and lived in a state of hourly dread lest the public exposure which she dreaded should come upon her. The absolute quiet of the past week had been more trying to her than if she had been called upon to fight in open court. Apparently neither Fletcher nor those repre- senting hhn had taken any action as yet, not even a communication had passed between the lawyers, and it seemed to Em'ly Lyndon that the last stage of her endurance was reached, and that unless something happened soon she must do something desperate. "At lasi/' she called out, shrilly, and without greeting ai any kind. •* I wonder you dare show face after your treatment of me. Surely I am entitled to be told at once where you have been, and why you have not even sent me a line ? " " All right, mother. Sit down, and I'll tell you all about it, presently," said Lyndon, struck by the ravages which that week of anxiety and suspense had wrought on his mother's beautiful face. " I thought the best thing I could do in the circumstances was to clear out, so I cleared. I didn't know what to expect when I came back. I have thought I would find Fletcher installed here in state. Has nothing been done > " " Nothing," she snapped, angrily. " You ought to have been at home looking after your own interests, and until you explain your absence I will tell you nothing. You must understand that I am not a child to be treated with whatever rudeness you please." '' m I at bis mits' Eno 309 "Terry has gone to Scotland." said Lyndon, choos- ing to Ignore this passionate speech. « I have amused would be. What did he say about it > " "Nothing What would you expect T^rry to say > He has neither family pride nor any idea of duty o; common sense," she snapped, in the same angry one Will you tell me where you have been, Tomi U„tn you do I can have nothing further to say to you ■' Lyndon eyed his mother steadily for a moment leaning up against the marble slab of the console mirror opposite to the sofa upon which she sat She was. he well knew, his only real friend in the world Smce matters had reached snch a desperate crisis wifh a^h '^^L\"\'''" '" '*" ^" 'he whole truth cot™ rf"^ ^y ^" '"^"■"' Then, it would be a comparatively easy task to tell her, since he felt sure IcX toS "" ""'•'°'""'^'' ^"— ' "^^ " I suppose nothing has been heard of Ted Roonev's sister at Arraghvanna ? » he said, firing a shot at a ve^nture. She was quick to folio, up 'the clue Ll "No ; nothing. Am I right in thinking that you d::;t^te7""" '''' ^^" ^'^°^ ^"^ '^'^ - ^- chetr^°" '''^^^'^' ^""^ *^^ '°^°"' '^'2^"y fl"«h^d his .nA h °"k°°^ ^^' ^^^^' ^ '"PP°'^ • " s^'d his mother. and her W grew dark with her high displeasure. ;; And what have you done with her. may I ask .?" ^ biie s m Glasgow. I came from there last night." Vou have made an unspeakable fool of yourself 3IO H Son ot £rin Tom," said his mother, angrily. " To begin with, it was too bad of you to entice the poor creature away fiom a home where she really is needed. Even when you could write yourself Squire of Ballymore you were a poor man, with no money to spare for such episodes. As you are now situated the affair is posi- tively disastrous. What are you going to do with her ? " " I don't know what to do, mother, and that's the truth," he answered, frankly. "She imagines that she's going abroad with me ; but " He ended his sentence with a shake of the head. His mother regarded him steadily, and for the first time in her life and his felt an inward loathing for the callous selfish- ness of his nature, which had never been more openly shown than at that moment. She was not a good woman herself, and she had taken no pains to teach her sons the higher meanings of life, yet it gave her something of a shock to see that the one whom she had made her idol could be capable of such baseness, " You can't expect me to help you," she said, coldly " I am ashamed of you, and the sooner we take our- selves away from this neighbourhood the better. Do you know that if it was suspected in Glendalough for a moment that you had anything to do with Kitty Rooney's disappearance your life wouldn't be worth a moment's purchase." Lyndon shrugged his shoulders. " I'll take good care of my skin, mother ; you needn't be afraid of that. I'm jolly sorry now, of course, that I did it. A man always sees his own faults too late. I would only like to know what is going to be Fletcher's next move, and then I'll turn my back on this cursed place, where i have never had a moment's peace or enjoyment since I came to it." at bis mits' lEuo 311 " It's a case of sour grapes, Tom," his mother said, with a slightly sarcastic smile, assumed to hide the unspeakable bitterness in her soul. "You ought to have been happy here; but you were never fit for your position." " If that is the case, I am but as you made me," he answered, readily. Thus did these two, absolutely without resources in the hour of adversity, hurl their taunts at one another instead of co-operating to bear their reverses with a becoming dignity. "How do you know," he asked, presently, "that the feeling is so high in the glen.? Before I left I went about a good deal, and I thought there was remarkably little interest shown in her disappearance." "You can go out now and you'll hear a different story," she answered, sullenly. "They say that her brother is almost beside himself, and that he has sworn to trace her, and to be revenged on whoever has enticed her away." Again Lyndon shrugged his shoulders; but the words sank into his heart, and remained there to haunt him with their unpleasant significance. " I suppose you deluded her with a mock marriage or something of that sort," said his mother, presently.' "I always thought that she was rather a superior girl, who would not hold herself so cheaply." "I'll tell you all about it another day, moth r," he said, as if wearying of the subject. " What l' am more particularly interested in now is what you are going to do. Are you going to stay here > " " If I do not hear from O'Grady within twenty-four hours," she answered, decidedly, " I shall either write to him, or seek a personal interview with your half- brother." iW 312 H Son ot Erttt Lyndon winced, and with his foot angrily spurned his mother's little toy spaniel gambolling on the carpet at his feet. She saw the expression on his face, noted the vindictive gleam in his eye, and, knowing herself the object, she turned her head away swiftly, too proud to let him see the two tears wrung from the very anguish of her soul which forced themselves from under her eyelids and rolled slowly down her cheeks. CHAPTER XL THE LOST LAMB OTHING was yet known, of course, in Glendalough or Rathdrum about the impending changes in Ballymore. Those interested kept their own counsel — until the time should be ripe for the publication of affairs. The most engrossing subject of talk and conjecture m Glendalough was still the disappearance of Kitty Rooney. Father O'Hagan was sorely puzzled over it. There were times even yet when he doubted Fletcher's strongly-expressed convictions that Lyndon alone could throw any light on that strange event. He was sitting in his study late one evening, and it oddly happened that he was quite alone in the house, his housekeeper having gone to Kildare to see her dying sister, when he heard a low tap at the door. He went at once to open it, holding his little bronze candlestick with its flickering light high in his hand so that It fell full on the figure standing within the quamt porch. His hand shook and his voice faltered as he uttered an exclamation of surprise, almost of dismay. For, unless his eyes strangely deceived him, 313 3>4 H Son ot JBrin ■( . ; it was Kitty Rooney who stood before him in the flesh. " Are you alone, father ? " she whispered, hesi- tatingly, " May I come in and speak to you ? " " Certainly, certainly, Kitty," said the old man, at the same time extending his hand to grasp hers, almost as if he sought to convince himself that she wa-s actually a real person and not a creature of imagina- tion. He drew her in and shut the door, then motioned her to follow him to the study, while he set the candle down on the table. A reading lamp stood there also, and in the fuller light he saw that the girl was pale, and looked tired, as if she had come o(C a long journey. " You are weary, my daughter. Before we speak you must take something to revive you. Be seated, while I bring you some refreshment." She could not demur, because she was too moved for speech. She sank into a chair, while Father O'Hagan unlocked a little cupboard in the corner, where he kept a little store of good wine which had been given to him from time to time by charitable persons for his own use. But Father O'Hagan even on his days of extremes! weariness never touched it himself, and seldom unlocked the cupboard unless he had a sick parishioner to whom such stimulant was absolutely necessary. He filled a full glass, and giving it to the weary girl, bade her drink it and eat a morsel of the biscuit he set by her side before she spoke a word. She revived somewhat, and a touch of colour stole back into her pale cheeks. "You have walked, I suppose, from Rathdrum?" silence for a few moments. e him in the Rathdrum ? " Ube Xodt Xamb 315 " Yes, your riverence ; I have walked from Rathdrum." " And how much further, Kitty — how much further have you journeyed?" "Oh, a weary way, father. All the way from Scotland." Father O'Hagan shook his head slowly, and his face became more sorrowful in its look, " If you are sufficiently rested, Kitty, I am ready to hear what you have to say to me." " Before I say anything, your riverence, tell me of my mother and Ted," she said, with a little gasping breath. " Your mother is still alive, but she has never risen from her chair, nor turned her face from the wall, since it was known that you had never reached Monaghan." " Oh, but if she is alive it is enough," cried Kitty, almost wildly. " I will nurse her well again, and niver,' niver leave her." " It may be that the sight of you will not be so pleasant as it was, Kitty," said Father O'Hagan. struck by the manner and speech of the girl who ought to be upon her knees. " Oh, she will forgive me, father, as you will, when you know all," she said, more quietly. "I am not come back in shame to Glendalough, though I see from your face that you have believed it av me." *• It was hard to know what to believe, Kitty," said the old priest, gently. " And remember I am waiting still to hear what you have to tell." " What do they think ? " she said, feverishly. " What have they said av me, father > Tell me that, an' I will explain it all." •' There have been many rumours — there are a few 3i6 B Son ot £rin who believe that the Squire of Ballymore alone could throw any light on the mystery, and I am one of those." " I went away with Mr. Lyndon — at least, I went before him, and he came in a few days ; but I am his lawful wedded wife, your riverence, nothing less." " Have you proof of this, Kitty ? " asked the old priest, with great eagerness, leaning forward in his chair, his thin spirituelle face full of eagerness he was at no pains to suppress. She nodded, then in a few words told him the whole story of her temptation and her flight. Father O'Hagan's soul was moved as he listened, and discern- ing that she had actually made a sacrifice of herself for those she so dearly loved, he looked at her with compassion and admiration. He had always known her to be a dutiful daughter and a quiet, well-behaved girl, but the depth of her nature and character was now revealed to him for the first time. " You forget the injunction — ' Ye may not do evil that good may come,' " he said, almost sadly. " The motive was good, but the act was desperate. You ought to have sought advice. If only you had come to me." " Father, I could not — he forbade me." " Is he aware that you are here to-night ? If you are his lawful wife how comes it that you are alone at this late hour, and that you have come on foot from Rathdrum ? Mr. Lyndon's wife should travel in different fashion." " He doesn't know. He is full of trouble himself since his half-brother has been found " u /-u _i» * It v^iiiia, wiiai arc you caiKing Kitty hesitated, seeing her mistake. But, having uble himself Zbc Xo0t Xamb 317 gone so far, she must now give Father O'Hagan her full confidence. Great was his amazement as he listened. He uplifted his hands more than once, and hung breathless on her words. Life moved slowly, and in the main uneventfully, in that quiet parish' Never in the whole of Father O'Hagan's ministry had such exciting events followed so quickly on the heels of each other. " I can scarcely take it all in, Kitty. You are here in the flesh talking to me, telling me in one breath that you are Squire Lyndon's wife, and in the next that he is no squire at all, but will have to give way to his half-brother so strangely restored from the dead. But it will be a terrible reckoning for Lady Lyndon." "Father O'Hagan," said Kitty, nervou-lv rising, " as nothing is known av it here, will yo- say iothing .? I may be doing great wrong even to talk av it. I am so perplexed I know not what I do." " My child, you need not fear. Many a secret in Glendalough is safe with me. T shall not betray you. Well, what are you going to do ? Is it to Ballymore or to Arraghvanna you wish me to take you now > " " Home, home to me mother an' to Ted," she said feverishly. ' " Ted is a desperate man, Kitty. You will be hard put to it to convince him the story you have told me is true." Kitty winced, and glanced wistfully at the priest's benevolent face. "You will help me, father. I have nobody but y^J^" she said, simply. Father O'Hagan turned away suddenly, and wiped from his kind old eye a surrepti- tious tear. Then he made ready, without another word, 3i8 B Son ot iBvin > i i ' 'J to take the lost sheep back to the fold. They talked much as they walked to Arraghvanna, and as things became more clear and connected in the mind of Father O'Hagan his admiration and pity for Kitty increased. What astonished and touched him more than anything was the undoubted fact that Kitty had little or no love for the man to whom, if her story were substantiated, she was bound for life. She had given herself in exchange for Lyndon's promise, which, to do him justice, he had kept. What was to be the future of this strange pair ; or could they have any future together.? Kitty became very quiet as they neared Arraghvanna, and leaned very heavily on her com- panion's supporting arm. The solitary light, which Kitty herself had been wont to set in the kitchen window, shed its cheery beam across the little strip of garden-ground, and guided their steps through the thick darkness of a moonless winter night. " Stay here, Kitty," the priest whispered at the door, " until I see how matters are within." He tapped lightly at the door, and then lifting the latch walked in. Ted sat alone by the ruddy peat-iire. Either he had awakened from sleep, or from absorbing thought. He had a dazed look as he got to his feet and tried to reply to Father O'Hagan's greeting. " All alone, Ted, I suppose ? Your poor mother within is asleep ? " said the priest. " I am glad to find you alone. I am the bearer of great news " "Of Kitty!" cried Ted, on the alert at once. Kitty, with her heart almost bursting outside the door, heard his voice and felt its tense anxiety thrill her through and through. \Ji xvitty. one naa v.Omc uai^K., i cu, wiic lo Mr. Lyndon," said the priest, in measured words, and at d at the door, Ubc Xost Xamb 3,9 the same time keeping his mild, compelling gaze on the young man's face, as if to quell the expected tumult. But none was visible. Ted regarded him stupidly, evidently not comprehending the full signifi- cance of his words. " Wife to Mr. Lyndon ! Is she at Ballymore > " he asked then, and the priest saw that his task would be more difficult than he had expected. He hesitated a moment, then laid his kind, detaining hand on the young man's arm. " Listen, Ted. and I will tell you a story. Do you remember some weeks ago how the fear of eviction lay heavy on so many hearts in Glendalough. and how the peaceably inclined lived in dread of strife and blood- shed, and how the whole parish was full of sinister rumours and unnamed terrors ? " " Yes, yes. your riverence ; shure an' it's not so long ago that I cannot moind it all," answered Ted nastily. ' " It came to an end suddenly and quickly, Ted so suddenly and quickly that many could not under- stand It, but had to ponder it as a mystery in their hearts Did you not think it strange and sudden that Lyndon should without warning change his attitude, and become a fair friend to the people whom hLhness A"" """'' ^''^''''' ""^ °PP^^"'°" ^"^ " It was strange, your riverence," observed Ted, slowly. « I thought it at the time." "Itwas not that Lyndon became a new man all of a sudden Ted ; it was some one else's doing— a kind and gentle heart tried to show him a better way. but coulu amy persuade him to it by a great sacrifice— the sacrifice of herself!" 1 111 I' 'f 320 B Son of Erin I 1 11 " Holy mother ! " cried Ted, in a strange whisper. " Is it Kitty ye are spakin' av ? " " Yes, Ted, it is Kitty I am speaking of. It was for Kitty's sake Lyndon spared the people of Bally- more ; it was for their sakes she went away, knowing very well what would be said of her, and that even those she loved so dearly might blame her most of all." " But she has come back, father ? " said Ted, in a hoarse whisper. " I heard you say she is his lawful wife." " She says so, and she has the proofs. Yet she has come back from Scotland to-night alone ; her longing to see her mother and you would no longer be set asi"'e." " Alone ! and she has gone to Ballymore first, as she ought, to her husband's house .' " The priest noticed the persistence with which Ted dwelt on the fact that she was Lyndon's wife. The breath of dishonour would have killed him, especially dishonour which touched any woman of his house. In this the pride of the peasant equalled — nay, perhaps excelled, that of the peer. Father O'Hagan saw that the pride of the Rooneys, of which he had often heard, had not been exaggerated in Glendalough, but was a real quality which no man could measure. "You must understand, Ted," he said, in his gentle, soothing voice, " that a marriage such as this has been is necessarily hedged about by many difficulties. It was a runaway and secret marriage to begin with, and the difference in their position increases the difficulties of which I spoke. Lady Lyndon will not approve it. We could not expect it. No doubt Lvndon is wise to trv and reconcile his mother to it by degrees." trange whisper. J. T'^" '""t ■^'^- ''""'>'' " Kitty is as good as any Lyndon Aat ever lived ! If she is his life he shall acknowledge her openly, by God I swear i^! » time 'kL?'""''' '^"' ' " '*'"'" *» """"^ '"" ' g"od time. Kittys name is as dear to me as it is to you nothing can be done to-night. We must ^ait unti the dawning of another day." mo?"*wK'" •" ?""' • ^* '"y '^^ ''^ "°t at Bally- more. Where is she ? " ^ it o^" °'"'^''" '"PP"' ''*'='' '" ** ''°°^ """J threw •' Kitty is here. Ted. R. ,...,»ber what she has done for you. and don't stint he ,: .our loWng thanks." Kitty ran m with an inarticulate cry. Only for a moment Ted regarded her sternly with the look of awakened suspicion in his honest eyes. But sh^ ran to h.m unheedingly. and his arms were not shu" thrtitr-the^^'r ^'^r" °"'^ -■'■"^^ '» «« *- hus, with their cheeks close to each other, then he slipped gently out and closed the door. He had done his part, love would do the rest not -expect it. recnnrilft his 31 CHAPTER XLI THE BITTER END llRECTLY he was without the door Father O'Hagan took out his watch, and by the glow from the kitchen window studied _^ its face. It was now nine o'clock, an hour' considered late in that primitive parish, too late to make a call unless on some urgent errand. Father O'Hagan felt that the errand was urgent ; therefore, after a moment's consideration, he turned his steps across the fields to the Park of Ballymore. He knew every inch of the way, and could have found the wicket gate blindfold. For the moment his mind was set at rest concerning Kitty and her people. For a few hours at least they would be entirely occupied with each other. But, when morning dawned, no man knew what might happen ; and it was well to be prepared for any emergency. Father O'Hagan wished to see Lyndon, chiefly to satisfy himself regarding the validity of Kitty's marriage. That from every point of view was the matter of chief importance to him and to others at the moment. There was plenty of lighted windows in the old house, and, though the 33a tCbe fitter JBn^ 3^3 great door was closed for the night. Father O'Hagan had not to wait long for admittance. He was relieved to hear that Lyndon was at home, and while he awaited him in the library he pondered much on the vicissitudes of life. Had Father O'Hagan been of a literary turn of mind he could have filled a volume with his unique experiences in Glendalough But he had no such thoughts or ambition. His memory was his only notebook— he was turning its pages now and recalling all he had known of the Lyndons. From his interesting reverie he was re- called by the entrance of Tom Lyndon himself. He ooked apprehensive as he returned the priest's saluta- IZ' ^^ T"" J^^° ^^' ^'^^^^"^ f^°"^ *he straight path, and who has grievous sins of committal to answer for, is not usually enamoured of priestly mtervention He feared that Father O'Hagai^s visit could only have ominous import. atfZrTfl!/'^ ^ l^^^ ''^'^'°'' ^^'^"'''" ^« ^^»'d> with attempted ease of manner. « I hope you are not in trouble of any kind?" « "?J°! °" "[^y own account. Mr. Lyndon." he answered. And It strikes me that you scarcely need inquire my errand, which concerns Kitty Rooney, or. to speak correctly, your wife, Mrs. Tom Lyndon " At this Tom Lyndon looked thunderstruck, and for the moment could not utter a word lecW T^lf '' ""^"'^ ^" ^"'"" ^° ^^"y ^"y know, ledge of Kitty, as Father O'Hagan undoubtedly possessed authentic information which enabled him to speak with authority. "I don't know what you mean, father." h** said lamely. "Please explain yourself."' "' " That is easily done. Kitty came back to Glenda- Hi ' "M't 324 H Son of £rin lough to-night. I have just left her at Arraghvanna, though her place is here." Lyndon grew ghastly pale, and with difficulty repressed a strong expression of his consternation. He stood silent, because he had nothing to say. The priest regarded him with somewhat sorrowful eyes, remembering his father, the good Sir Tom, and wondering how it came that so noble a man should have begotten so craven a son. " You did wrong to entice the poor girl away," he said, at length. "And as you have made her your lawful wiie, I fail to see what object was to be gained by the secret flight.? Lyndon eyed him keenly ; but Father O'Hagan preserved an expression of face which baffled Lyndon's rather limited powers of discernment. " She had no right," he said, sullenly, " to return without my knowledge or permission. In the present desperate condition of my affairs it was most impor- tant that all should be concealed. You cannot 'lave heard, of course, what has happened," he added, almost eagerly, grasping at what would give him a brief respite from the priest's cross-questioning, and enable him perhaps to formulate some line of conduct. *'A man has turned up claiming to be my half- brother who was drowned in the Lough over twenty years ago. Until that matter is settled it would be disastrous to bring forward any further complications. I told Kitty so. She promised to remain quietly in Glasgow until I told her she might join me here." '• She is your lawful wife ? " asked the priest in a steady, judicial voice, determined to bring Lyndon to the point. The young man shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and he wished he dared bid the ttbe Bitter Ena 3,5 Father O'Hagan was a very old man. and by virtue of h.s office exercised a certain awe even over Lyndon" undisciplined soul. ^/»uoiis it bind „r r" r!"'*"" """"^Se. I need not hold It binding unler^' I choose." r.^^'l^r. ^'^^8^^" gravely nodded. These words revealed to him as much of Lyndon's inner nature a he wished to know. "I understand, then, that it would not cost you much to repudiate her, that, in fact, if it should seem expedient you would have no hesitation in doing o^^' he said, keenly. '' ' "In my desperate plight, Father O'Hagan, what e^tabhshed. as I fear it will. I have nothing. 1 am but a homeless wanderer on the face of the earth or°::yb:d; r •"="""—"'■«' "- « to o^er Kitty! sac:e?",^S.tio„1 1 W'. 1r 2""'r" 'T " Vnu =,.« , ? * *"® P"^s^' Sternly. You are young and strong ; you must work for the Lyndon shrugged his shoulders. " I shall go abroad. I cannot possibly take her She must stay at Arraghvanna now that she has returned against my expressed desire," " Yo" h ^^ i„te„j.^^^ ^^ ^^ bringing her here and publicly acknowledging her as your wife ? " No, sir, I have not," said Lyndon, boldly. « I have my ,„oiher's feelings to consiaer. You would not have me totally disregard them .? " "Mi. 'nPRi 3a6 H Soil ot £rin Father O'Hagan made a quick gesture of impatience and dissent. A righteous anger burned within him ; his old heart was hot, and he felt moved to take the cowardly cur by the throat and shake the very life out of him. But he controlled himself, and there was scarcely a tremor in his voice as he spoke, — "I infer from your words that you do not rei,ard your obligations to Kitty as binding ? " " Since you drive me to bay, I will be honest, Father O'Hagan, and tell you frankly I don't. If she doesn't worry or harass me I'll do what I can for her, but I will not be forced or badgered by her, or you, or anybody." « Lyndon threw aside the cloak of respect he had worn throughout the interview, and stood revealed in his true light — a coward and a scoundrel at heart. The nervous colour rose pink in Father O'Hagan's thin cheeks, and he clenched his hands at his side. The hot temper of his youth came back to him again, and he had difficulty in commanding his voice. " Perhaps you will find it less easy than you imagine to rid yourself of these responsibilities," he said, calmly and coldly. " Have you ever heard of Scots Law ? " " I don't know what you mean," said Lyndon, rudely. " I hardly expected you would. You are not a person of much resource or of wide knowledge. But I am surprised that you did not take a little more trouble, since you have been so grossly selfish all through, to safeguard yourself. Let me enlighten you. Accord- ing to Scots Law it is sufficient if two persons in Scot- land declare themselves to be husband and wife before two witnesses — nothing but death can part them. This is the position in which you now and, Mr. tii; f r, or you, or Ube :a3itter Enb 3,7 Lyndon. You cannot repudiate your poor wife, much as you evidently desire it. She is legally entitled to share your title and estates, and that she will do so I and others interested in the cause of right will make sure. I wish you good evening, and I pray that the God whose laws you have broken may in His good time bring you to some comprehension of your great and grievous sin." So saying the old priest quietly withdrew himself from the house of Ballymore, and his heart was very heavy as he sought his way through the thick darkness of the night to his own lonely fireside, where he had nought but the sorrows of others to bear him company. He left Lyndon in no enviable frame of rnmd. He was by turns furious, desperate, and apprehensive. What to do for the best was the ques- tion he put to himself again and again, and when mornmg dawned it found him still undecided. So quickly had his passion cooled, and so fully did other selfish matters engross his mind, that the thought of Kitty's nearness had scarcely power to stir in him any emotion save that of exasperation. He had never had a wish or a whim thwarted in his life. To have his directly-expressed desires thus calmly disregarded and disobeyed filled him with anger. Well, she should suffer for it He would show her she could not do just as she liked with him. In this mood the niorning found him. He bore traces of his troubled night in his face, and also in his demeanour at the breakfast-table. He had scarcely a word to say— the dilemma in which he found himself was sufficient to make him look gloomy enough. His mother left him to himself. She also was anxious and worried uncertain of the future, and filled with forebodings! \nr 398 B Sou ot £rtn w Another day, and no letter from O'Grady — not a sign or indication of Brian Lyndon's intention. " I am going in to Wicklow this morning by the twelve train, Tom," she said at length. " I must see what is in the wind. Will you come } " "No," answered Tom, shortly, and his mother regarded him thoughtfully and without irritation. She had done him a great wrong, she knew, and to expect him to be amiable under the circumstances was to expect too much. He rose from the table at the moment, and left the room without a word of apology. It was then half-past nine ; after lingering about aimlessly in the gun-room and hall he put on a cap and left the house. It was a dismal morning — one of the dreariest of winter days. A wet, clammy fog hung low over hill and dale, and a fine, small rain filtered through it drearily. The bare trees stretched out their ghostly branches weirdly, and the air was filled with the dank odours of dead and dying leaves. Lyndon shivered as the chill air caught him ; but he did not turn back to the warmth and comfort of the house. He strolled round to the stables — relieved his feelings somewhat by finding fault with the men hanging idly about there ; then, almost against his will, he turned his face across the park towards the wicket gate opening upon the Arraghvanna pasture, and there, just without the gate, he saw a figure come out from the we": folds of the mist, and found himself face to face with Ted Rooney. Both men stood still. Ted was not angry, but his face was white and set — he had the look of a man who had a set purpose in view which he would accomplish at all hazards. Zbc JBttter En& 329 "I was comin' to Bally more to see yez." he observed, calmly. « Maybe ye were goin' to Arragh- vanna to see Kitty, yer wife I " •• No, I was not," snapped Lyndon, stung to quick resentment by the quiet insolence of Ted Rooney He had inherited his full share of the Bantry pride, and he regarded Ted Rooney and his kind as little better than the dust beneath his feet. It was a bad basis on which to start a discussion with a desperate man Ted eyed him steadily, noting the sullen gleam of the heavy-lidded eyes, the sour look, the contemptuous sncer> " She's there." he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of Arraghvanna. « If ye are not goin' to fetch her now, perhaps ye'd loike me to drive her in the ould cart up to the front door ? Any way yer honour plases." ^ ^ " She's very well where she is. I did not tell her to come back. If she chooses to come at her own time instead of mine, why, then she must take the consequences." "She's yer wife." repeated Ted, steadily, « and she shall come to Ballymore this very day, if I have to carry her meself." " You are taking a very high-handed line, Rooney," said Lyndon, with a touch of haughtiness. « You'd better have a care." "It's the roight line, the only wan there is to take, observed Ted. "If there is any other maybe yell be good enough to tell me what it is ? " Tvr "u^^^ f "'^ """""^ *° Ballymore just now, Rooney. XMODOdv knows l-hof Uan-^^ t-V-^- v-t. • ,r 1 u l"','" ""' "'-"■'■^' tridu jvicty nerseif, and unless both she and you can hold your tongues, for a time at least, there will be disaster all round." i 330 H Son ot Erin ^^^■: : ^^^^_. i " It's me sister' good name agin your convanience, ** said Ted. " The wan is of some importance, the other We shall spake just as little or as much as we plase, Mr. lom Lyndon, without askin' ye lave." " All right," said Lyndon, with a supercilious nod. " You can do precisely as you please ; but when the reckoning comes don't blame me." " The reckoning is here," cried Ted in a voice which gave his passion vent. " Where you stand here, ye blessed villain, ye'll tell me what it is ye mane to be afther ? Is Kitty Rooney your lawful wife, or is she not ? If she is not, by the Blessed Virgin, I'll kill yez wliere ye stand." They were both young, and their worst passions were aflame ; also, they were equally matched. No man saw that fight save the ghostly trees and the shivering birds among the dripping boughs. But it was a fair battle, and the one who fell died game. Before noon that day, as Father O'Hagan was putting on his brogues for a tramp through the muddy glen to visit a dying man at the farther side of the parish, Ted Rooney, white faced and dishevelled, burst into the manse. In a flash of intuition Father O'Hagan guessed what had happened before Ted spoke the fatal words. " I've come to give meself up, yer riverence," he said, in a voice of unnatural calm. " I've killed the squoire. They'll foind him lying at the Dareen gate. Send fur the police I " CHAPTER XLII BRIAN LYNDON OF BALLYMORE N the flower-laden window of a little house in Mayfair Aileen Byrne and Adair Bremner were sitting together on a June day. Across the pink geraniums and white marguerites in the window-boxes they could see the throng of Park Lane and the abundant greenness beyond. It was a pleasant house, though tiny— an expensive toy. It sufficed for the need of the Bremner family, who could never be in London all together. On this occasion Adair was keeping house for her father, and Captain Byrne and Aileen had come over from Killane on a long visit. " I feel distinctly excited," observed Adair, as she clasped her white hands above the dainty muslin of her Paris gown. « Mr. Brian Lyndon of Ballymore, M.P. for Rossmoyne !— quite an imposing personality, beriously, Aileen, did you ever know or hear of a more exciting romance > " " Never ; but the odd thing about it is that when one sees him it is imno " " Very. Mr. Parnell has the highest possible opinion of Mr. Lyndon. He has repeatedly said to papa and to me that he will have a distinguished career." " How interesting ! Do you think they will call > I should so like to see Mr. Parnell." " They will, without doubt, call some time," answered Aileen, and her colour rose, a sign which did not escape Adair's watchful eye. She had no doubt whatever that the blush was on Brian Lyndon's account. Well, it 'was natural and fitting, perhaps, and yet — why that sigh.? At the moment things seemed a little out of joint in Adair Bremner's life. " Rossmoyne is not a very distinguished constituency, perhaps, but it is a stepping-stone, and one must begin somewhere," observed Aileen. " Mr. Parnell was determined to have him in the House this session. I have heard him say so often." " It is a wonderful story," repeated Adair. ♦* Of course I am a little sorry for Lady Lyndon. Are you not ? " "Not very," answered Aileen, frankly. "I believe she is in London at present getting Terry settled at the War Office. He has got a clerkshjp there, which will also be a stepping-stone." "Terry, that's the second son? He must feel rather bitter against the new/ squire." " He doesn't. Wait till you see Terry, you'll understand. He would like to call here to see me, if he may ? " "Why, certainly, the more the merrier. Here's some one coming now." together last Ele must feel irrier. Here's »rian X^n^on of JSall^more 333 The door opened, and two men entered. Adair sprang to her feet with an expression of pleased surprise. Adair knew Fletcher at once, though he was much changed, the other she had no difficulty in recognising as the leader of the Irish party. It was an interesting moment. Lyndon's behaviour was perhaps the most important detail in Adair's eyes He bore himself admirably. Not until she came forward with frank hand extended did he seem to intrude himself on her notice, but he was perfectly at his ease ; indeed more so than she was. " So we meet again, and in very altered circum- stances," she said, making room for him on the couch where she sat. appropriating him at once, as Aileen observed with some amusement. " It is a fairy tale, nothing less. Tell me how you feel ; a real personage .? " "Oh yes; you see life is mostly reality" he answered, with a smile. « May I ask for Mr. Bremner and all the members of your family .? I hoped for the pleasure of seeing him to-day." " You may. I don't know where he is at this par- ticular moment. He dines out to-night, however, so he IS sure to come home early. Of course, the House IS not sitting to-day, or we should not have had this pleasure." " I am going down to Scotland to-night." " Are you, really, to Spitalhaugh .? " " Yes ; to my father and mother. They will not be pleased until they have the details of the contest from my own lips— though some of them, I fear. I shall have to modify or suppress," he answered, with a laugh at the memory of some of the wild Rossmoyne experiences. /•■';;, f fur 334 U Son of £rin Ml "Your father and mother?" Adair repeated ques- tioningly. "You still think and speak of them as such?" " They have granted me that priceless privilege," he replied, quietly, and though he intended no rebuke she accepted it as such for hazarding one doubt regard- ing him. " It is hardly likely I shall let it go. Need I remind you such privileges do not go begging in this life ? " "You are dreadfully serious," she said, deprecat- ingJy. " Of course, I meant nothing. They must be immensely pleased." " I question whether they are," he answered, and the sadness on his face was quite marked. "Will you believe me. Miss Bremner, when I say that I should have been a happier man than I am to-day if I was plain Robert Fletcher, of Spital- haugh?" " But tell me why ? " she exclaimed, in wonder. " Surely it is a great thing to know yourself so nobly born, and to step into such a heritage." " At others' cost," he answered. " And I am one who wanted to fight my way up, taking each advan- tage honestly as it comes." " There is something in that ; but in politics birth hardly counts, does it? The bat 'e is always to the strong there." " Well, I should not like to accept your statement unchallenged. I believe myself that one of the secrets of our leader's power over men is his birth. He is an aristocrat to his finger tips." Adair glanced at Parnell where he was in close talk with Aileen. Had she been less interested in him she must have observed Aileen's face — its rapt face — its rapt S^vimx Xisnbon of Baapmore 335 expression, its absolute adoration. Lyndon saw it and his own face changed. "He looks it," she admitted; "but I should not have expected such a sentiment from your lips. Mr hrl""' A ;^ treason, nothing less, against Spital- haugh, and a hbel on your old name. Have you for- gotten • A man's a man for a' that >'" " "^^^^'^ precisely my point," said Lyndon. « It's the personahty of the man that dominates his fellows." You thmk very highly of him evidently, as he does of you. Miss Byrne has told me you a e quite inseparable, and that he was determbed you should have a seat in the House this session " Lyndon's face slightly flushed, and his eye grew soft as ,t fell on the pale, calm, clean-cut face of the man who had ifted him to a high place, and given to h- h,s hearths desire-had placed all things within fnJr. •t.'^''''.^''''^' ^'"^^^'^ '^'^-^^ intense interest. It was just the sort of thing to appeal to a nature m which imagination and emotion, though well controlled, held a dominating place " Wht^ "''k ^""f^f '"• ?' ''^^^^'*'"^^' involuntarily. What ? he asked, with a smile. fh'1^^% r^ you regard your leader. It makes me thmk of the knights of old with their Arthur. It is not m common with the nineteenth century" At that moment Aileen looked towards them, and Lyndon rose. For a few moments the talk became general. In the midst of it Mr. Bremner and Ca^ r1h!'J1 'fl^Z'':!'' 'T' '^ London. I heard it in tVbe^u^d r» """' "^'^ """" ''" ""' ^^''' ^^« ''' 336 a Son of iBxin *' Yes," answered Aileen. " Did you stay last night at Ballymore ? " " No, at Avondale." « Poor Mrs. Rooney is dead. I heard the news last "'^•^Yes ; I went to Arraghvanna after dinner and saw Kitty." . , , ,» « Ah. poor Kitty ! What is she to do now ? « Wait at Arraghvanna until Ted is released from Kilrnainham in six weeks' time." " And then ? " «♦ I had thought they might emigrate together ; but I rather think* there will have to be another arrange- ment. Did you know that there was a ove affair between Ted and Micky Malone s daughter ? " No ; I did not hear of it." . « She has been to see him several times in Kilrnain- ham, and probably they will be married when his sentence expires." « Does Micky approve ? " « Yes Of course you know the whole sympathy ol the glen from one end to the other is with Ted. They'll give him a triumphal welcome when he comes *«i am not surprised at that— yet, poor Tom ^^He^eyes filled, and her thoughts were tender of %fetcher did not grudge them-she had only known the best and the pleasant side of his half-brothr. and the tragedy of his untimely death had been a great shock to them all. ^.-.^.^.^elv for ~ " I hear you are to provide very iiauu=omei> icr Kitty, which is right and fitting, she being one of the you stay last night heard the news last fter dinner and saw to do now ? " ed is released from grate together ; but be another arrange- e was a love affair daughter ? " al times in Kilmain- ; married when his e whole sympathy ol other is with Ted. come when he comes at — yet, poor Tom jghts were tender of -she had only known ; of his half-brothfi, iy death had been a very iianusotiieiy i^v she being one of the Brian Xsnbon of JBaUpmore 337 family now," she observed presently. "Is there any truth in the rumour that you want also to make a provision for Lady Lyndon ? " " Surely there would be something right and fitting m that also ? " he said, quickly. "But she is so bitter against you. There is no bridle on her tongue." "That will not hurt me, nor does it alter my position or responsibility. I feel for her most deeply also for Terry. I want to go and see them to-nig? f before I go to Scotland." "Well, I can give you the address. They are living in a flat in Victoria Street. You can easily walk from here." He took out his notebook, and jotted down the address. "And now I have hardly congratulated you. You had a stiff fight again. Papa was immenselv interested, and could not have rejoiced more over your success if you had been his own son." Lyndon's face twitched as he glanced towards the white-haired captain who had been so true a friend to him through the past years. Then his eyes came back to Aileen's face. He thought her pale, but the sweetness of her eyes had never been more haunting. "You are not so fresh as when at Killane," he observed. « London and late hours do not suit you so well." "No," she answered, frankly. "At Ballymore I am always happiest and best." "Have you ever seen him look so well?" asked Lyndon, observing where her gaze fell. " I wish you had heard him at Rossmoyne I have never heard his quiet incisive eloquence more powerful, nor his 22 338 U Son ot £rin magnetic nfluence so strong. He simply bore down the weight of the opposition by his personality. It was the most signal triumph I have ever seen." Aileen said nothing, but her speaking eyes were eloquent. Again Lyndon was conscious uf a chiii sense of disappointment, followed by a quick thrill of envy. To win a glance from these eyes were worth a life's endeavour. He did not imagine iimself in love, He knew, though Aileen herself had no: a* rutted it, even to her own heart, that her whole k» t. va^ given, unasked it might be, but never to be recailed. He felt jealous over her, as well as coiripassionate, because he knew too well that Parnell was cold to her, cold as the ice to which he was so often compared. The pain of these thoughts was so intolerable that he was glad soon to ii'ake his adieux. He left the house alone, and walked through the blossoming park a little way until, suddenly recalled to himself, he remembered he must turn in the opposite direction. About five o'clock he reached the little flat in Victoria Street where Lady Lyndon, in the bitterness of her discom- fiture, had hid herself. She had thought to go to Bantry, but the old earl, rough and ready of speech, though of true heart and upright life, had indicated in no ambiguous terms that she would not be welcome there. The maid who answered Lyndon's knock ushered him straight into the drawin£;-room, where Lady Lyndon and Terry were taking tea together. It was a strange moment. Both sprang up as if apprehensive as to what his visit night portend. Of the three Lyndon was the most a.' ■ > ease. "Good afternoon," he said, in a perfectly matter- of-fact voice. " I have only come from Ireland this r i:il -I'm «rtan »Bn&on of Kallsmorc 339 r..or,i„g Miss Byrne was good enough to give me yo.r^a..,!.ess. Won't you shake ha'nds J?h ^e! hJr\'^ '"^ '""'■"'"''' S»« him a hesitating seem. 1, -7' '° """">' erasped, however, that if ZT 'T '^'°"" new strength into his desponden ,1- , ^^.r "^'^ '"<'=^<' *« dark days of W Mte h:' "f?' "^^ •" '°'^'-" «*' «beS Lvndnn I, ^, ** engendered in his soul. Lady The ?riend^^:,TK'°"'"'' °"'^ '°' » "^ She W f "1/ °^ '''"■ '^^P'°"'' ^°°^ ««^»"'ed her. She Iiad failed in every quarter in which she had r '4t o/ R^'P- ^° •'° "^^ J-«« ^he had never thought of Bnan, even as a last resource, until that moment when he appeared, cordial and gracious! before •' Will you have some tea > " she asked, stiffly. '< If I shall take tea gladly," answered Lyndon. " Well ^^XZy^''^''''^"^^^^ We have "^oi tmngs ? asked Terry, in a choking voice. ownCrt."""'''- '"""^ '^ '•'"'''"^ -"-«- '•» h'^ " It was an awful fight. Some day I'll tell you some °' ">"«?«"«»«»; but I did not come here for that to-day, but to lay a plan of my own before you Ladv Lyndon Will you listen to me for a moment ''"^ in a kind Jf • u^''^*"'" '°''"' '"^'' ''^"^ ^" «PS Ind he « f ^f • "" "^^ox^ess was increasing, and he saw it, almost pityingly. ^ "I shall have to be in London now for the greater part of the year. I intend to be a politWaHo" a • i 340 H Son of £rin merely a member going and coming as it suits his own convenience," he began, going directly to the point, as he had conspicuously done in his election speeches, " As I cannot be much at Ballymore I came really to ask you, Terry, to go back there and fill my place." Terry grew pale, and his sad face fell upon his hands. Lady Lyndon stared before her as if doubting that she heard aright. Lyndon then addressed himself to her. " If you will kindly go back to Ballymore, Lady Lyndon. I shall be much obliged," he continued, a trifle awkwardly. " If Terry should think well of my suggestion he can hardly live alone. It is the best family arrange- ment I think we can make in the meantime, at least. We shall be able to arrange it all, I think, on a satisfactory basis. I shall pay Terry a salary, as I should have to pay Moran, with whose services I have dispensed." "You are very just," observed Lady Lyndon, and her lips were so dry that the words were little above a whisper. " It will be a great thing for me to know that the place is in good care. Terry will have a free hand in the management. He knows all the people, and is far more competent than I should ever be. Will you think of it, Terry.?" " Brian Lyndon, what are you made of ? " queried Lady Lyndon, with a shrill, strange note in her voice. " After what I have done, and the way I have spoken of you. Why are you so different from other men > " " Not so very different, I fear," he said, raising his hand deprecatingiy. " I am to benefit by this little arrangement. It will make me happier to think you »rlan ^»n^on ot JSallpmore 341 are back in the old place, and that it is not left to the management of strangers. Look up, Terry and tell me what you think of it." ^' He let his hand fall lightly and with a stranrelv caressing touch on the boy's bowed head. Zhis only answer was a bursting sob. ingly. Get your hat, and come out with me on the fn^ Xf? ''" ^" """■ ^^ - -'" ^-: .^wJT/T *•*'"'{• *"'' *'""«' "" °" °f the room. then^I^r ,r." ""'""^ °^ "'y P'^"'" ''*«d Lyndon then fcehng that any speech was preferable to silence. It IS an excellent plan," she answered. '• But— out 1 do not understand your motive" "I have none," he answered, frankly, ''except a s.an« Te' *° T^'^ "^ "''' °' ''^"^ ^^'^ stances Terry has no profession, and but little that he would be happier at Ballymore than anywhere I '^r^ ^Tt"'"' ""■■" ''" '"»"«= °f three T four hundred, and there would be no expense of living have gone into the matter most carefully. Lady Lyndon, and I feel sure that in the meantime it is the best arrangement we can make, and the arrangement mouths." ^ "' *"°'' •""'^'y '■"" P^Pl"'^ " You are right ; but that you should consider us, or «w^^ ;,'" ""^ "*'' '' *•"" ' '=='""°t understand" simn^ '^.n''T '"."' °^ "• '^ >'"■■' P^''^'" «»M Brian. Mmply Do I understand then rUat if Terry is willing you will be agreeable ? " wimng " I should be a fool if I were anything else." she sa.d, grimly. " Only I cannot understand it." 9 342 H Son of £rfa It was impossible for her to abase herself or to make any scene. Her pride was too strong. But Lyndon could read her like an open book ; he saw the conflict of feeling in her heart, and it fill^'r! ' ' . with hope for the future. She was to be pitied indeed, and he had pitied her, else he could not have been in her presence on such an errand. When he left her prciently to join Terry, whom he knew was waiting for him outside, he offered her his hand, which he had uot done on his entrance. She took it, and, flashing a strange deep glance at him, touched it with her lips. What it cost her to do that even he did not guess. It was her mute prayer for forgiveness, which was granted before she uttered it. He took Terry by the arm, and they walked in silence across the magnificent Square of Westminster, and turned down in silence, too, upon the quieter stretch of the Embankment. "You'll come, Terry, I think," said Lyndo:}. "Just think what an easy mind I should have here knowing you are at Ballymore taking care rf everything. And how the people love you. I sha. never have that place in their hearts, Terry ; you ought to be Squire of Ballymore, and will be som day if I can manage it." "Why are you so good to us.?" cried Terr/, impetuously, "You ought to hate us. Wh?" does it all mean > " "We are brothers, lad, sons of the same father," said Lyndon, simply. ' There is something in the tie of blood. I think I felt it the first time I saw you. We can help and encourage each other. Let me hear you sav voti'll an hart at Ipacf iinfil c/^rnp<-h!»'v u*.*4.«- turns up } " 3thins bctt€ Brian %mt>on of «a«smore ui -I'Ln'r'^' """"i '"^'^'"^ ^'''''" ^""^^••^d Terry. 1 don t know how to thank you. You out he Jf very low down when you came. I had even contemplated the river as an end to it all The future seemed ^o dark." * and^''wfth"r'"l'' 'S' ''?^'' "™ '° '"■'" «fi-«tionately, and, with their heads almost close together so that a":2deTh:f " ,J';''^ ^''^"'°"'"« -<« absorbed Tlh,, l^ '?'""' °" '°Sether, talking hopefully bot^ wT'l'""'' ^'' '"" "^ P°^^*i«'y '"■■ them part witrtt ^^r^'^'u*' '*^'' " '^a' a^ brothers part, with the joy of another meeting in view The - . shone again in Terry Lyndon's heart. Onc'e more ife seemed the , Vht and joyous thing it m ghTbe Icro^Vv't • ."-f '° '>™-"-. Lyndon tookf turn Vtoori. "' '^' '"^"^ ^' >"«•" back to the Victoria to prepare ,or his ourney. The stately pile of the Parliament Houses ; nated him. As he stood ■n one ot the embrasures ol the bridge, and looked "he'sun .tT'1 "''^'°"= """''' -'b 'the glor^ of the sun -t his heart was stirred within him with a vague mighty stirring which he could hardly control 01 some at least of his early dreams. It was not sur In th. tf T m"";""^ *° "'^ breast. He stood na^ 2 K r"'"'' °^ bis career, he bore a noble X^Tin-th^Lr ''=" '- -''' -'<> -P- ^ol"- t°^ "P. a great leader who hac deigned to noti.= h„n and i.it him to his heart's desir^ Nor was he without the love which sweetens ^i these li 344 fi Son ot jeiin thmgs^ He had a home .V Scotland, a humble home •t might be. but one to which his heart still turned a- a bird to Its nest. If one thing should be denied hinJ --the love of woman— well, one greater than he had bidden hrm beware, and told him that it would be but a hindrance iu his path. So that was well also And no misgiving, scarcely a regret, was in Brian Lyndon s heart as he turned reluctantly from the sunset-gilded minarets only to see the dark and noble pile of the Abbey-home of the illustrious dead— out- lined against the crystal clearness of the sky It seemed to recall him a moment from the maierial side of things and point him to the immortal, the immortal to which in his early home his thoughts had ever been directed in reverence and love And so we leave him. in the joy and hope of young manhood as yet without stain or disillusionment turning his face bravely and gladly to the battle. Whether we follow him further into the highways of life rests only with you. THE END. 91 :otland, a humble home his heart still turned as ? should be denied him ie greater than he had him that it would be So that was well also. I regret, was in Brian 1 reluctantly from the see the dark and noble J illustrious dead — out- rness of the sky. It ent from the material to the immortal, the lorne his thoughts had ind love. joy and hope of young in or disillusionment, gladly to the battle. into the highways of A