PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Y^r 
 
 I
 
 'Sure I only came in this minnit"
 
 A COMEDY OF YOUTH 
 
 BY 
 
 J. HARTLEY MANNERS 
 
 THIS NOVEL IS FOUNDED BY MR. MANNERS 
 ON HIS PLAY OF THE SAME TITLE 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM 
 PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE PLAY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913 
 BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 Published October, 1913
 
 TO 
 "LAURIE" 
 
 in that which no waters can quench, 
 No time forget, nor distance wear away. 1 
 
 2075572
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR AND AN 
 
 ENGLISH LADY OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I The Irish Agitator Makes His First Appearance 3 
 
 II The Panorama of a Lost Youth . . . .13 
 
 III St. Kernan's Hill 17 
 
 IV Nathaniel Kingsnorth Visits Ireland ... 27 
 V Angela 38 
 
 VI Angela Speaks Her Mind Freely to Nathaniel 47 
 
 VII The Wounded Patriot 52 
 
 VIII Angela in Sore Distress 62 
 
 IX Two Letters .71 
 
 X O'Connell Visits Angela in London 74* 
 
 XI Kingsnorth's Despair 79 
 
 XII Looking Forward 82 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND 
 
 THE END OF THE ROMANCE 
 
 I Angela's Confession 85 
 
 II A Communication from Nathaniel Kingsnorth 91 
 III The Birth of Peg 94 
 
 BOOK THE THIRD 
 
 PEG 
 
 I Peg's Childhood 99 
 
 II We Meet an Old Friend After Many Years . 119 
 III Peg Leaves Her Father for the First Time . 123
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK THE FOURTH 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I The Chichester Family 129 
 
 II Christian Brent . . 139 
 
 III Peg Arrives in England 152 
 
 IV The Chichester Family Receive a Second Shock 161 
 
 V Peg Meets Her Aunt 177 
 
 VI Jerry 192 
 
 VII The Passing of the First Month . . . .217 
 
 VIII The Temple of Friendship 246 
 
 IX The Dance and its Sequel 260 
 
 X Peg Intervenes 266 
 
 XI "The Rebellion of Peg" 273 
 
 XII A Room in New York 280 
 
 XIII The Morning After 291 
 
 XIV Alaric to the Rescue 301 
 
 XV Montgomery Hawkes 313 
 
 XVI The Chief Executor Appears on the Scene . .327 
 
 XVII Peg Learns of Her Uncle's Legacy . . . 333 
 
 XVIII Peg's Farewell to England 347 
 
 BOOK THE FIFTH 
 PEG RETURNS TO HER FATHER 
 
 I After Many Days 359 
 
 II Looking Backward 367 
 
 III An Unexpected Visitor 371 
 
 Afterword . 379
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " Sure I enly came in this minnit " . . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 With Peg study meant roaming through her books 
 
 until she found something that interested her . 102 
 
 Sure that thing could never be President of the United 
 States 188 
 
 He kissed her hand reverently , 262 
 
 "Holy Mother!" she cried, the whole house'll be 
 
 awake!" 314
 
 PEG O' MY HEART
 
 "Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in Life 
 as Love's Young Dream."
 
 BOOK I 
 
 f 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR AND 
 AN ENGLISH LADY OF QUALITY
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE IRISH AGITATOR MAKES HIS FIRST APPEARANCE 
 
 " FAITH, there's no man says more and knows less than 
 yerself, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 "About Ireland, yer riverence? " 
 
 " And everything else, Mr. O'Connell." 
 
 "Is that criticism or just temper, Father? " 
 
 " It's both, Mr. O'Connell." 
 
 " Sure it's the good judge ye must be of ignorance, 
 Father Cahill." 
 
 " And what might that mane ? " 
 
 " Ye live so much with it, Father." 
 
 " I'm lookin' at it and listenin' to it now, Frank O'Con- 
 nell." 
 
 " Then it's a miracle has happened, Father." 
 
 "A miracle?" 
 
 " To see and hear one's self at the same time is indade 
 a miracle, yer riverence." 
 
 Father Cahill tightened his grasp on his blackthorn 
 stick, and shaking it in the other's face, said: 
 
 " Don't provoke the Man of God ! " 
 
 " Not for the wurrld," replied the other meekly, " be- 
 in' mesef a Child of Satan." 
 
 " And that's what ye are. And ye'd have others like 
 yerself. But ye won't while I've a tongue in me head 
 and a sthrong stick in me hand." 
 
 O'Connell looked at him with a mischievous twinkle 
 in his blue-grey eyes : 
 
 " Yer eloquence seems to nade somethin' to back it up, 
 I'm thinkin'." 
 
 3
 
 4 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Father Cahill breathed hard. He was a splendid 
 type of the Irish Parish-Priest of the old school. Gifted 
 with a vivid power of eloquence as a preacher, and a heart 
 as tender as a woman's toward the poor and the wretched, 
 he had been for many years idolised by the whole com- 
 munity of the village of M in County Clare. But of 
 late there was a growing feeling of discontent among 
 the younger generation. They lacked the respect their 
 elders so willingly gave. They asked questions instead 
 of answering them. They began to throw themselves, 
 against Father Cahill's express wishes and commands, 
 into the fight for Home Rule under the masterly states- 
 manship of Charles Stuart Parnell. Already more 
 than one prominent speaker had come into the little vil- 
 lage and sown the seeds of temporal and spiritual un- 
 rest. Father Cahill opposed these men to the utmost of 
 his power. He saw, as so many far-sighted priests did, 
 the legacy of bloodshed and desolation that would fol- 
 low any direct action by the Irish against the British 
 Government. Though the blood of the patriot beat in 
 Father Cahill's veins, the well-being of the people who 
 had grown up with him was near to his heart. He was 
 their Priest and he could not bear to think of men he 
 had known as children being beaten and maimed by con- 
 stabulary, and sent to prison afterwards, in the, ap- 
 parently, vain fight for self-government. 
 
 To his horror that day he met Frank Owen O'Connell, 
 one of the most notorious of all the younger agitators, 
 in the main street of the little village. 
 
 O'Connell's back-sliding had been one of Father Ca- 
 hill's bitterest regrets. He had closed O'Connell's 
 father's eyes in death and had taken care of the boy as 
 well as he could. But at the age of fifteen the youth 
 left the village, that had so many wretched memories
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 5 
 
 of hardship and struggle, and worked his way to Dublin. 
 It was many years before Father Cahill heard of him 
 again. He had developed meanwhile into one of the 
 most daring of all the fervid speakers in the sacred 
 Cause of Liberty. Many were the stories told of his 
 narrow escapes from death and imprisonment. He al- 
 ways had the people on his side, and once away from 
 the hunt, he would hide in caves, or in mountains, until 
 the hue and cry was over, and then appear in some totally 
 unexpected town and call on the people to act in the name 
 of Freedom. 
 
 And that was exactly what happened on this par- 
 ticular day. He had suddenly appeared in the town he 
 was born in and called a meeting on St. Kernan's Hill 
 that afternoon. 
 
 It was this meeting Father Cahill was determined to 
 stop by every means in his power. 
 
 He could hardly believe that this tall, bronzed, power- 
 ful young man was the Frank O'Connell he had watched 
 about the village, as a boy pale, dejected, and with but 
 little of the fire of life in him. Now as he stood before 
 Father Cahill and looked him straight through with his 
 piercing eye, shoulders thrown back, and head held high, 
 he looked every inch a born leader of men, and just for a 
 moment the priest quailed. But only for a moment. 
 
 " Not a member of my flock will attend yer meetin' 
 to-day. Not a door will open this day. Ye can face 
 the constabulary yerself and the few of the rabble that'll 
 follow ye. But none of my God-fearin' people will risk 
 their lives and their liberty to listen to you." 
 
 O'Connell looked at him strangely. A far-away glint 
 came into his eye, and the suspicion of a tear, as he an- 
 swered : 
 
 " Sure it's precious little they'd be riskin', Father Ca-
 
 6 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 hill; havin' no liberty and their lives bein' of little ac- 
 count to them." 
 
 O'Connell sighed as the thought of his fifteen years of 
 withered youth in that poor little village came up before 
 him. 
 
 " Let my people alone, I tell ye ! " cried the priest. 
 " It's contented they've been until the likes of you came 
 amongst us." 
 
 " Then they must have been easily satisfied," retorted 
 O'Connell, " to judge by their poor little homes and their 
 drab little lives." 
 
 " A hovel may be a palace if the Divine Word is in 
 it," said the priest. 
 
 " Sure it's that kind of tachin' keeps Ireland the 
 mockery of the whole world. The Divine Word should 
 bring Light. It's only darkness I find in this village," 
 argued O'Connell. 
 
 " I've given my life to spreadin' the Light ! " said the 
 priest. 
 
 A smile hovered on O'Connell's lips as he muttered: 
 
 " Faith, then, I'm thinkin' it must be a dark-lantern 
 yer usin', yer riverence." 
 
 "Is that the son of Michael O'Connell talkin'?" 
 
 Suddenly the smile left O'Connell's lips, the sneer died 
 on his tongue, and with a flash of power that turned 
 to white heat before he finished, he attacked the priest 
 with: 
 
 " Yes, it is ! It is the son of Michael O'Connell who 
 died on the roadside and was buried by the charity of 
 his neighbours. Michael O'Connell, born in the image 
 of God, who lived eight-and-fifty years of torment and 
 starvation and sickness and misery! Michael O'Connell, 
 who was thrown out from a bed of fever, by order of his 
 landlord, to die in sight of where he was born. It's his
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 7 
 
 son is talkin', Father Cahill, and it's his son will talk 
 while there's breath in his body to keep his tongue wag- 
 gin'. It's a precious legacy of hatred Michael O'Connell 
 left his son, and there's no priest, no government, no po- 
 liceman or soldier will kape that son from spendin' his 
 legacy." 
 
 The man trembled from head to foot with the nervous 
 intensity of his attack. Everything that had been out- 
 raged in him all his life came before him. 
 
 Father Cahill began to realise as he watched him the 
 secret of the tremendous appeal the man had to the suf- 
 fering people. Just for a moment the priest's heart 
 went out to O'Connell, agitator though he was. 
 
 * e Your father died with all the comforts of the Holy 
 Church," said the priest gently, as he put his old hand 
 on the young man's shoulder. 
 
 " The comforts of the church ! " scoffed O'Connell. 
 " Praise be to heaven for that ! " He laughed a grim, 
 derisive laugh as he went on: 
 
 " Sure it's the fine choice the Irish peasant has to-day. 
 4 Stones and dirt are good enough for them to eat,' sez 
 the British government. ' Give them prayers,' say the 
 priests. And so they die like flies in the highways and 
 hedges, but with ' all the comforts of the Holy Church' ! " 
 
 Father Cahill's voice thrilled with indignation as he 
 said: 
 
 " I'll not stand and listen to ye talk that way, Frank 
 O'Connell." 
 
 " I've often noticed that those who are the first to 
 preach truth are the last to listen to it," said the agi- 
 tator drily. 
 
 "Where would Ireland be to-day but for the priest? 
 Answer me that. Where would she be? What has my 
 life here been? I accepted the yoke of the Church when
 
 8 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 I was scarcely your age. I've given my life to serving 
 it. To help the poor, and to keep faith and love for 
 Him in their hearts. To tache the little children and 
 bring them up in the way of God. I've baptised them 
 when their eyes first looked out on this wurrld of sorrows. 
 I've given them in marriage, closed their eyes in death, 
 and read the last message to Him for their souls. And 
 there are thousands more like me, giving their lives to 
 their little missions, trying to kape the people's hearts 
 clean and honest, so that their souls may go to Him 
 when their journey is ended." 
 
 Father Cahill took a deep breath as he finished. He 
 had indeed summed up his life's work. He had given it 
 freely to his poor little flock. His only happiness had 
 been in ministering to their needs. And now to have 
 one to whom he had taught his first prayer, heard his 
 first confession and given him his first Holy Communion 
 speak scoffingly of the priest, hurt him as nothing else 
 could hurt and bruise him. 
 
 The appeal was not lost on O'Connell. In his heart 
 he loved Father Cahill for the Christ-like life of self- 
 denial he had passed in this little place. But in his 
 brain O'Connell pitied the old man for his wasted years 
 fti the darkness of ignorance in which so many of the vil- 
 lages of Ireland seemed to be buried. 
 
 O'Connell belonged to the " Young Ireland " move- 
 ment. They wanted to bring the searchlight of knowl- 
 edge into the abodes of darkness in which the poor of 
 Ireland were submerged. To the younger men it seemed 
 the priests were keeping the people from enlightenment. 
 And until the fierce blaze of criticism could be turned 
 on to the government of cruelty and oppression there 
 was small hope of freeing the people who had suffered so 
 long in silence. O'Connell was in the front band of
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 9 
 
 men striving to arouse the sleeping nation to a sense of 
 its own power. And nothing was going to stop the on- 
 ward movement. It pained him to differ from Father 
 Cahill the one friend of his youth. If only he could 
 alter the good priest's outlook win him over to the 
 great procession that was marching surely and firmly 
 to self-government, freedom of speech and of action, and 
 to the ultimate making of men of force out of the crushed 
 and the hopeless. He would try. 
 
 " Father Cahill," he began softly, as though the good 
 priest might be wooed by sweet reason when the declama- 
 tory force of the orator failed, " don't ye think it would 
 be wiser to attend a little more to the people's bodies 
 than to their souls? to their brains rather than to their 
 hearts? Don't ye?" 
 
 " No, I do not," hotly answered the priest. 
 
 " Well, if ye did" said the agitator, " if more priests 
 did, it's a different Ireland we'd be livin' in to-day 
 that we would. The Christian's heaven seems so far 
 away when he's livin' in hell. Try to make earth more 
 like a heaven and he'll be more apt to listen to stories of 
 the other one. Tache them to kape their hovels clean 
 and their hearts and lives will have a betther chance of 
 health. Above all broaden their minds. Give them ed- 
 ucation and the Divine tachin' will find a surer restin' 
 place. Ignorance and dirt fill the hospitals and the 
 asylums, and it is that so many of the priests are fos- 
 terin'." 
 
 " I'll not listen to another wurrd," cried Father Ca- 
 hill, turning away. 
 
 O'Connell strode in front of him. 
 
 " Wait. There's another thing. I've heard more 
 than one priest boast that there was less sin in the vil- 
 lages of Ireland than in any other country. And why?
 
 10 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 What is yer great cure for vice? Marriage isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "What are ye sayin'?" 
 
 " I'm sayin' this, Father Cahill. If a boy looks at a 
 girl twice, what do ye do? Engage them to be married. 
 To you marriage is the safeguard against sin. And 
 what are such marriages ? Hunger marryin' thirst ! 
 Poverty united to misery ! Men and women ignorant and 
 stunted in mind and body, bound together by a sacra- 
 ment, givin' them the right to bring others, equally dis- 
 torted, into the wurrld. And when they're born you 
 baptise them, and you have more souls entered on the 
 great register for the Holy Church. Bodies livin' in 
 perpetual torment, with a heaven wavin' at them all 
 through their lives as a reward for their suffering here. 
 I tell ye ye're wrong! Ye're wrong! Ye're wrong! 
 The misery of such marriages will reach through all the 
 generations to come. I'd rather see vice vice that 
 burns out and leaves scar-white the lives it scorches. 
 There is more sin in the hearts and minds of these poor, 
 wretched, ill-mated people than in the sinks of Europe. 
 There is some hope for the vicious. Intelligence and 
 common-sense will wean them from it. But there 
 is no hope for the people whose lives from the cradle 
 to the grave are drab and empty and sordid and 
 wretched." 
 
 As O'Connell uttered this terrible arraignment of the 
 old order of protecting society by early and indiscrimi- 
 nate marriages, it seemed as if the mantle of some mod- 
 ern prophet had fallen on him. He had struck at the 
 real keynote of Ireland's misery to-day. The spirit of 
 oppression followed them into the privacy of their lives. 
 Even their wives were chosen for them by their teachers. 
 Small wonder the English government could enforce bru-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 11 
 
 tal and unjust laws when the very freedom of choosing 
 their mates and of having any voice in the control of 
 their own homes was denied them. 
 
 To Father Cahill such words were blasphemy. He 
 looked at O'Connell in horror. 
 
 " Have ye done ? " he asked. 
 
 " What else I may have to say will be said on St. Ker- 
 nan's Hill this afternoon." 
 
 " There will be no meetin' there to-day," cried the 
 priest. 
 
 " Come and listen to it," replied the agitator. 
 
 " I've forbidden my people to go." 
 
 " They'll come if I have to drag them from their 
 homes." 
 
 " I've warned the resident-magistrate. The police 
 will be there if ye thry to hold a meetin'." 
 
 " We'll outnumber them ten to one." 
 
 " There'll be riotin' and death." 
 
 " Better to die in a good cause than to live in a bad 
 one," cried O'Connell. " It's the great dead who lead 
 the world by their majesty. It's the bad livin' who keep 
 it back by their infamy." 
 
 " Don't do this, Frank O'Connell. I ask you in the 
 name of the Church in which ye were baptised by me." 
 
 " I'll do it in the name of the suffering people I was 
 born among." 
 
 " I command you ! Don't do this ! " 
 
 " I can hear only the voice of my dead father saying : 
 4 Go on!'" 
 
 " I entreat you don't ! " 
 
 " My father's voice is louder than yours, Father Ca- 
 "hill." " 
 
 " Have an old man's tears no power to move ye? " 
 
 O'Connell looked at the priest. Tears were stream-
 
 12 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 ing down his cheeks. He made no effort to staunch 
 them. O'Connell hesitated, then he said firmly: 
 
 " My father wept in the ditch when he was dyin', dyin' 
 in sight of his home. Mine was the only hand that 
 wiped away his tears. I can see only his to-day, Fa- 
 ther." 
 
 " I'll make my last appeal. What good can this 
 meetin' do? Ye say the people are ignorant and 
 wretched. Why have them batthered and shot down by 
 the soldiers? " 
 
 " It has always been the martyrs who have made a 
 cause. I am willin' to be ene. I'd be a thraitor if I 
 passed my life without lifting my voice and my hands 
 against my people's oppressors." 
 
 " Ye're throwin' yer life away, Frank O'Connell." 
 
 " I wouldn't be the first and I won't be the last." 
 
 " Nothing will move ye? " cried the priest. 
 
 " One thing only," replied the agitator. 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 " Death ! " and O'Connell strode abruptly away.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE PANORAMA OF A LOST YOUTH 
 
 As O'Connell hurried through the streets of the little 
 village thoughts surged madly through his brain. It 
 was in this barren spot he was born and passed his youth. 
 Youth! A period of poverty and struggle: of empty 
 dreams and futile hopes. It passed before him now as 
 a panorama. There was the doctor's house where his fa- 
 ther hurried the night he was born. How often had his 
 mother told him of that night of storm when she gave her 
 last gleam of strength in giving him life! In storm 
 he was born : in strife he would live. The mark was on 
 him. 
 
 Now he came to the little schoolhouse where he first 
 learned to read. Facing it Father Cahill's tiny church, 
 where he had learned to pray. Beyond lay the green 
 on which he had his first fight. It was about his father. 
 Bruised and bleeding, he crept home that day beaten. 
 His mother cried over him and washed his cuts and 
 bathed his bruises. A flush of shame crept across his 
 face as he thought of that beating. The result of our 
 first battle stays with us through life. He watched 
 his conqueror, he remembered for years. He had but 
 one ambition in those days to gain sufficient strength 
 to wipe out that disgrace. He trained his muscles. 
 He ran on the roards at early morning until his breathing 
 was good. He made friends with an English soldier 
 stationed in the town, by doing him some slight service. 
 The man had learned boxing in London and could beat 
 any one in his regiment. O'Connell asked the man to 
 
 13
 
 14 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 teach him boxing. The soldier agreed. He found the 
 boy an apt pupil. O'Connell mastered the art of self- 
 defence. He learned the vulnerable points of attack. 
 Then he waited his opportunity. One half-holiday, when 
 the schoolboys were playing on the green, he walked up 
 deliberately to his conqueror and challenged him to a 
 return engagement. The boys crowded around them. 
 
 " Is it another batin' ye'd be afther havin% ye beggar- 
 man's son ? " said the enemy. 
 
 O'Connell's reply was a well-timed punch on that 
 youth's jaw, and the second battle was on. 
 
 As O'Connell fought he remembered every blow of 
 the first fight when, weak and unskilful, he was an easy 
 prey for his victor. 
 
 " That's for the one ye gave me two years ago, Mar- 
 tin Quinlan," cried O'Connell, as he closed that youth's 
 right eye, and stepped nimbly back from a furious 
 counter. 
 
 " And it's a bloody nose ye'll have, too," as he drove 
 his left with deadly precision on Quinlan's olfactory or- 
 gan, staggering that amazed youth, who, nothing 
 daunted, ran into a series of jabs and swings that com- 
 pletely dazed him and forced him to clinch to save fur- 
 ther damage. But the fighting blood of O'Connell was 
 up. He beat Quinlan out of the clinch with a well-timed 
 upper-cut that put the youth upon his back on the green. 
 
 " Now take back that ' beggar-man's ' son ! " shouted 
 O'Connell. 
 
 " I'll not," from the grass. 
 
 " Then get up and be beaten," screamed O'Connell. 
 The boys danced around them. It was too good to be 
 true. Quinlan had thrashed them all, and here was the 
 apparently weakest of them white-faced O'Connell
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 15 
 
 thrashing him. Why, if O'Connell could best him, they 
 all could. The reign of tyranny was over. 
 
 " Fight ! Fight ! " they shouted, as they crowded 
 around the combatants. 
 
 Quinlan rose to his feet only to be put back again on 
 the ground by a straight right in the mouth. He felt 
 the warm blood against his lips and tasted the salt on his 
 tongue. It maddened him. He staggered up and rushed 
 with all his force against O'Connell, who stepped aside 
 and caught Quinlan as he stumbled past full behind the 
 ear. He pitched forward on his face and did not move. 
 The battle was over. 
 
 " And I'll serve just the same any that sez a word 
 against me father ! " 
 
 Not a boy said a word. 
 
 *' Fighting O'Connell " he was nicknamed that day, 
 and " Fighting O'Connell " he was known years after- 
 wards to Dublin Castle. 
 
 When he showed his mother his bruised knuckles that 
 night and told her how he came by them, she cried again as 
 she did two years before. Only this time they were tears 
 of pride. 
 
 From door to door he went. 
 
 " St. Kernan's Hill at three," was all he said. Some 
 nodded, some said nothing, others agreed volubly. On 
 all their faces he read that they would be there. 
 
 On through the village he went until he reached the 
 outskirts. He paused and looked around. There was 
 the spot on which the little cabin he was born in and in 
 which his mother died, had stood. It had long since 
 been pulled down for improvements. Not a sign to 
 mark the tomb of his youth. It was here they placed 
 his father that bleak November day here by the ditch.
 
 16 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 It was here his father gave up the struggle. The feeble 
 pulse ebbed. The flame died out. 
 
 The years stripped back. It seemed as yesterday. 
 And here he stood grown to manhood. He needed just 
 that reminder to stir his blood and nerve him for the or- 
 deal of St. Kernan's Hill. 
 
 The old order was dying out in Ireland. 
 
 The days of spiritless bending to the yoke were over. 
 It was a " Young Ireland " he belonged to and meant 
 to lead. A " Young Ireland " with an inheritance of 
 oppression and slavery to wipe out. A " Young Ire- 
 land " that demanded to be heard : that meant to act : 
 that would fight step by step in the march to Westmin- 
 ster to compel recognition of their just claims. And he 
 was to be one of their leaders. He squared his shoul- 
 ders as he looked for the last time on the little spot of 
 earth that once meant " Home " to him. 
 
 He took in a deep breath and muttered through his 
 clenched teeth: 
 
 " Let the march begin to-day. Forward ! " and he 
 turned toward St. Kernan's Hill.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ST. KERNAN'S HILL 
 
 To the summit of the hill climbed up men, women and 
 children. The men grimy and toil-worn ; a look of hope- 
 lessness in their eyes: the sob of misery in their voices. 
 Dragging themselves up after them came the women 
 some pressing babies to their breasts, others leading lit- 
 tle children by the hand. The men had begged them to 
 stay at home. There might be bad work that day, but 
 the women had answered: 
 
 " If we go they won't hurt you! " and they pressed on 
 after the leaders. 
 
 At three o'clock O'Connell ascended the hill and stood 
 alone on the great mount. 
 
 A cry of greeting went up. 
 
 He raised his hand in acknowledgment. 
 
 It was strange indeed for him to stand there looking 
 down at the people he had known since childhood. A 
 thousand conflicting emotions swept through him as he 
 looked at the men and women whom, only a little while 
 ago, it seemed, he had known as children. Then he bent 
 to their will. The son of a peasant, he was amongst 
 the poorest of the poor. Now he came amongst them 
 to try and lift them from the depths he had risen from 
 himself. 
 
 " It is Frankie O'Connell himself," cried a voice. 
 
 " Him we knew as a baby," said another. 
 
 "Fightin' O'Connell! Hooray for him!" shouted a 
 third. 
 
 " Mary's own child standin' up there tall and straight 
 
 17
 
 18 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 to get us freedom and comfort," crooned an old white- 
 haired woman. 
 
 " And broken heads," said another old woman. 
 
 " And lyin' in the county- j ail himself, mebbe, this 
 night," said a third. 
 
 " The Lord be with him," cried a fourth. 
 
 " Amen to that," and they reverently crossed them- 
 selves. 
 
 Again O'Connell raised his hand, this time to command 
 silence. 
 
 All the murmurs died away. 
 
 O'Connell began his rich, melodious voice ringing 
 far beyond the farthest limits of the crowd the music 
 of his Irish brogue making cadences of entreaty and 
 again lashing the people into fury at the memory of Ire- 
 land's wrongs. 
 
 " Irish men and women, we are met here to-day in the 
 sight of God and in defiance of the English government," 
 (groans and hisses), " to clasp hands, to unite our 
 thoughts and to nerve our bodies to the supreme effort 
 of bringing hope to despair, freedom to slavery, pros- 
 perity to the land and happiness to our homes." (Loud 
 applause. ) " Too long have our forefathers lived un- 
 der the yoke of the oppressor. Too long have our old 
 been buried in paupers' graves afther lives of misery no 
 other counthry in the wurrld can equal. Why should 
 it be the lot of our people men and women born to a 
 birthright of freedom? Why? Are ye men of Ireland 
 so craven that aliens can rule ye as they once ruled the 
 negro?" ("No, no!") "The African slave has been 
 emancipated and his emancipation was through the blood 
 and tears of the people who wronged him. Let our 
 emancipation, then, be through the blood and tears of 
 our oppressors. In other nations it is the Irishman who
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 19 
 
 rules. It is only in his own counthrj that he is ruled. 
 And the debt of hathred and misery and blasted lives and 
 dead hopes is at our door to-day. Shall that debt be 
 unpaid?" ("No, no!") "Look around you. Look 
 at the faces of yer brothers and sisthers, worn and 
 starved. Look at yer women-kind, old before they've 
 been young. Look at the babies at their mothers' 
 breasts, first looking out on a wurrld in which they will 
 never know a happy thought, never feel a joyous impulse, 
 never laugh with the honest laughther of a free and con- 
 tented and God-and-government-protected people. Are 
 yez satisfied with this?" (Angry cries of "No, 
 no!") 
 
 " Think of yer hovels scorched with the heat, blis- 
 thered with the wind and drenched with the rain, to live 
 in which you toil that their owners may enjoy the fruits 
 of yer slavery in other counthries. Think of yer sons 
 and daughthers lavin' this once fair land in hundhreds 
 of thousands to become wage-earners across the seas, 
 with their hearts aching for their homes and their loved 
 ones. The fault is at our own door. The solution is 
 in our own hands. Isn't it betther to die, pike in hand, 
 fightin' as our forefathers did, than to rot in filth, and 
 die, lavin' a legacy of disease and pestilence and weak 
 brains and famished bodies?" His voice cracked and 
 broke into a high-pitched hysterical cry as he finished 
 the peroration. 
 
 A flame leaped through the mob. The men muttered 
 imprecations as a new light flashed from their eyes. All 
 their misery fell from them as a shroud. They only 
 thought of vengeance. They were men again. Their 
 hearts beat as their progenitors' hearts must have beaten 
 at the Boyne. 
 
 The great upheaval that flashed star-like through Ire-
 
 20 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 land from epoch to epoch, burned like vitriol in their 
 veins. 
 
 The women forgot their crying babies as they pressed 
 forward, screaming their paean of vengeance against 
 their oppressors. 
 
 The crowd seemed to throb as some great engine of 
 humanity. It seemed to think with one brain, beat with 
 one heart and call with one voice. 
 
 The cry grew into an angry roar. 
 
 Suddenly Father Cahill appeared amongst them. 
 
 " Go back to your homes," he commanded, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Stay where you are," shouted O'Connell. 
 
 " In the name of the Catholic Church, go ! " said the 
 priest. 
 
 " In the name of our down-trodden and suffering peo- 
 ple, stay ! " thundered O'Connell. 
 
 " Don't listen to him. Listen to the voice of God ! " 
 
 " God's help comes to those who help themselves," an- 
 swered the agitator. 
 
 Father Cahill made his last and strongest appeal : 
 
 " My poor children, the constabulary are coming to 
 break up the meetin' and to arrest him." 
 
 " Let them come," cried O'Connell. " Show them 
 that the spirit of Irish manhood is not dead. Show 
 them that we still have the power and the courage to 
 defy them. Tell them we'll meet when and where we 
 think fit. That we'll not silence our voices while there's 
 breath in our bodies. That we'll resist their tyranny 
 while we've strength to shouldher a gun or handle a pike. 
 I appeal to you, O Irishmen, in the name of yer broken 
 homes ; in the name of all that makes life glorious and 
 death divine ! In the name of yer maimed and yer dead ! 
 Of yer brothers in prison and in exile ! By the listenin*
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 21 
 
 earth and the watching sky I appeal to ye to make yer 
 ttand to-day. I implore ye to join yer hearts and yer 
 lives with mine. Lift yer voices with me: stretch forth 
 yer hands with mine and by yer hopes of happiness here 
 and peace hereafter give an oath to heaven never to 
 cease fightin' until freedom and light come to this un- 
 happy land! 
 
 " Swear by all ye hold most dear : by the God who 
 gave ye life: by the memory of all ye hold most sacred: 
 by the sorrow for yer women and children who have died 
 of hunger and heart-break: stretch forth yer hands 
 and swear to give yer lives so that the generations to 
 come may know happiness and peace and freedom. 
 Swear ! " 
 
 He stopped at the end of the adjuration, his right 
 hand held high above his head, his left palm upward, 
 stretched forward in an attitude of entreaty. 
 
 It seemed as though the soul of the man was pleading 
 with them to take the oath that would bind their souls 
 to the " Cause." 
 
 Crowding around him, eyes blazing, breasts heaving, 
 as if impelled by one common thought, the men and 
 women clamoured with outstretched hands : 
 
 "We swear!" 
 
 In that moment of exaltation it seemed as if the old 
 Saint-Martyrs' halo glowed over each, as they took the 
 oath that pledged them to the " Cause," the Cause that 
 meant the lifting of oppression and tyranny: immunity 
 from " buckshot " and the prison-cell : from famine and 
 murder and coercion all the component parts of Ire- 
 land's torture in her struggle for her right to self-gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 A moment later the crowd was hushed. A tremour 
 ran through it.
 
 22 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 The sounds of marching troops : the unintelligible 
 words of command, broke in on them. 
 
 Father Cahill plunged in amongst them. " The con- 
 stabulary," he cried. " Back to your homes." 
 
 " Stay where you are," shouted O'Connell. 
 
 " I beg you, my children ! I command you ! I en- 
 treat you ! Don't have bloodshed here to-day 1 " Fa- 
 ther Cahill turned distractedly to O'Connell, crying out 
 to him : 
 
 " Tell them to go back ! My poor people ! Tell 
 them to go back to their homes while there's time." 
 
 Turning his back on the priest, O'Connell faced the 
 crowd : 
 
 " You have taken your oath. Would you perjure 
 yourselves at this old man's bidding? See where the 
 soldiers come. Look and look well at them. Their 
 uniforms stand for the badge of tyranny. The glint 
 of their muskets is the message from their illustrious sov- 
 ereign of her feeling to this part of her kingdom. We 
 ask for justice and they send us bullets. We cry for 
 ' Liberty * and the answer is * Death ' at the hands of her 
 soldiers. We accept the challenge. Put yer women and 
 childhren behind you. Let no man move." 
 
 The men hurriedly placed the women and children so 
 that they were protected from the first onslaught of the 
 soldiery. 
 
 Then the men of St. Kernan's Hill, armed with huge 
 stones and sticks, turned to meet the troops. 
 
 Mr. Roche, the resident-magistrate, rode at their head. 
 
 " Arrest that man," he cried, pointing to O'Connell. 
 
 An angry growl went up from the mob. 
 
 Father Cahill hurried to him : 
 
 " Don't interfere with them, Mr. Roche. For the love
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 23 
 
 of heaven, don't. There'll be murder here to-day if ye 
 do." 
 
 " I have my instructions, Father Cahill, and it's sorry 
 I am to have to act under them to-day." 
 
 " It isn't the people's fault," pleaded the priest ; " in- 
 deed it isn't." 
 
 " We don't wish to hurt them. We want that man 
 O'Connell." 
 
 " They'll never give him up. Wait till to-night and 
 take him quietly." 
 
 " No, we'll take him here. He's given the police the 
 slip in many parts of the country. He won't to-day." 
 The magistrate pushed forward on his horse through 
 the fringe on the front part of the crowd and reined up 
 at the foot of the mount. 
 
 " Frank Owen O'Connell, I arrest you in the Queen's 
 name for inciting peaceable citizens to violence," he 
 called up to the agitator. 
 
 " Arrest me yerself, Mr. Magistrate Roche," replied 
 O'Connell. 
 
 Turning to an officer Roche motioned him to seize 
 O'Connell. 
 
 As the officer pressed forward he was felled by a blow 
 from a heavy stick. 
 
 In a second the fight was on. 
 
 The magistrate read the riot-act. 
 
 He, together with Father Cahill, called to the mob 
 to stop. They shouted to O'Connell to surrender and 
 disperse the people. 
 
 Too late. 
 
 The soldiers formed into open formation and marched 
 on the mob. 
 
 Maddened and reeling, with no order, no discipline,
 
 24 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 with only blind fury and the rushing, pulsing blood 
 that has won many a battle for England against a 
 common foe the men of Ireland hurled themselves 
 upon the soldiers. They threw their missiles: they 
 struck them with their gnarled sticks: they beat them 
 with their clenched fists. 
 
 The order to " Fire " was given as the soldiers fell 
 back from the onslaught. 
 
 When the smoke cleared away the ranks of the mob 
 were broken. Some lay dead on the turf; some groaned 
 in the agony of shattered limbs. The women threw 
 themselves moaning on the bodies. Silence fell like a pall 
 over the mob. Out of the silence a low angry growl 
 went up. O'Connell had fallen too. 
 
 The soldiers surrounded his prostrate body. 
 
 The mob made a rush forward to rescue him. 
 O'Connell stopped them with a cry: 
 
 " Enough for to-day, my men." He pointed to the 
 wounded and dying : " Live to avenge them. Wait un- 
 til < The Day ' ! " His voice failed. He fell back un- 
 conscious. 
 
 Into the midst of the crowd and through the ranks 
 of the soldiers suddenly rode a young girl, barely twenty 
 years old. Beside her was a terrified groom. She 
 guided her horse straight to the magistrate. He raised 
 his hat and muttered a greeting, with a glance of rec- 
 ognition. 
 
 " Have him taken to ' The Gap,' " she said impera- 
 tively, pointing to the motionless body of O'Connell. 
 
 " He is under arrest," replied the magistrate. 
 
 " Do you want another death on your hands ? 
 Haven't you done enough in killing and maiming those 
 unfortunate people? " She looked with pity on the
 
 THE ROMANCE uF AN IRISH AGITATOR 25 
 
 moaning women: and then with contempt on the officer 
 who gave the order to fire. 
 
 " You ought to be proud of your work to-day ! " she 
 said. 
 
 " I only carried out my orders," replied the man hum- 
 bly. 
 
 " Have that man taken to my brother's house. He 
 will surrender him or go bail for him until he has been 
 attended to. First let us save him." The girl dis- 
 mounted and made a litter of some fallen branches, as- 
 sisted by the groom. 
 
 " Order some of your men to carry him." 
 
 There was a note of command in her tone that awed 
 both the officer and the magistrate. 
 
 Four men were detailed to carry the body on the lit- 
 ter. 
 
 The girl remounted. Turning to the magistrate, she 
 said: 
 
 " Tell your government, Mr. Roche, that their sol- 
 diers shot down these unarmed people." Then she 
 wheeled round to the mob: 
 
 " Go back to your homes." She pointed to the dead 
 and wounded : ** They have died or been maimed for 
 their Cause. Do as lie said," pointing to the uncon- 
 scious O'Connell, " Live for it ! " 
 
 She started down through the valley, followed by the 
 litter-bearers and the magistrate. 
 
 The officer gave the word of command, and, with some 
 of the ringleaders in their midst, the soldiers marched 
 away. 
 
 Left alone with their dying and their dead, all the 
 ferocity left the poor, crushed peasants. 
 
 They knelt down sobbing over the motionless bodies.
 
 26 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 For the time being the Law and its officers were tri- 
 umphant. 
 
 This was the act of the representatives of the Eng- 
 lish government in the year of civilisation 18 , and 
 in the reign of her late Gracious Majesty, Queen Vic- 
 toria, by the grace of God, Empress of India.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 NATHANIEL KINGSNORTH VISITS IRELAND 
 
 WHILE the incidents of the foregoing chapters were 
 taking place, the gentleman whose ownership shaped the 
 destinies of many of the agitators of St. Kernan's Hill, 
 was confronting almost as difficult a problem as O'Con- 
 nell was facing on the mount. 
 
 Whilst O'Connell was pleading for the right of Ireland 
 to govern herself, Mr. Nathaniel Kingsnorth was endeav- 
 ouring to understand how to manage so unwieldy and so 
 troublesome an estate. 
 
 The death of his father placed a somewhat extensive 
 and so far entirely unprofitable portion of the vil- 
 lage in his care. His late father had complained all his 
 life of the depreciation of values ; the growing reluctance 
 to pay rents ; and the general dying-out of the worth 
 of an estate that had passed into the hands of a Kings- 
 north many generations before in the ordinary course of 
 business, for notes that had not been taken up, and 
 mortgages that had been foreclosed. 
 
 It was the open boast of the old gentleman that he 
 had never seen the village, and it was one of his dying 
 gratifications that he would never have to. 
 
 He had all the racial antipathy of a certain type of 
 Englishmen to anything Irish. The word itself was un- 
 pleasant to his ears. He never heard it without a shud- 
 der, and his intimates, at his request, refrained from us- 
 ing it in his presence. The word represented to him all 
 that was unsavoury, unpatriotic and unprincipled. 
 
 One phrase of his, in speaking of Ireland at a ban- 
 
 37
 
 28 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 quet, achieved the dignity of being printed in all the 
 great London daily papers and was followed by a 
 splenetic attack in the " Irish Nation." Both incidents 
 pleased the old gentleman beyond measure. It was an 
 unfailing source of gratification to him that he had 
 coined the historical utterance. He quoted it with a 
 grim chuckle on the few occasions when some guest, un- 
 familiar with his prejudice, would mention in his pres- 
 ence the hated word " Ireland." 
 
 It appears that one particularly hard winter, when, 
 for some unnecessary and wholly unwarrantable reason, 
 the potato-crop had failed, and the little Irish village 
 was in a condition of desperate distress, it was found 
 impossible to collect more -than a tithe of Mr. Kings- 
 north's just dues. No persuasion could make the obsti- 
 nate tenants pay their rents. Threats, law-proceedings, 
 evictions all were useless. They simply would not pay. 
 His agent finally admitted himself beaten. Mr. Kings- 
 north must wait for better times. 
 
 Furious at his diminished income and hating, with a 
 bitter hatred, the disloyal and cheating tenantry, he rose 
 at a Guildhall banquet to reply to the toast of " The 
 Colonies." 
 
 He drew vivid pictures of the splendour of the British 
 possessions : of India that golden and loyal Empire ; 
 Australia with its hidden mines of wealth, whose soil had 
 scarce been scratched, peopled by patriotic, zealous and 
 toiling millions, honestly paying their way through life 
 by the sweat of their God-and-Queen-fearing brows. 
 What an example to the world! A country where the 
 wage-.earner hurried, with eager footsteps, to place the 
 honestly earned tolls at the feet of generous and trusting 
 landlords ! 
 
 Then, on the other hand, he pointed to that small por-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 29 
 
 tion of the British Isles, where to pay rent was a crime : 
 where landlords were but targets for insult and vitupera- 
 tion yes, and indeed for bullets from the hidden assas- 
 sin whenever they were indiscreet enough to visit a 
 country where laws existed but that they might be 
 broken, and crime stalked fearlessly through the land. 
 Such a condition was a reproach to the English govern- 
 ment. 
 
 " Why," he asked the astonished gathering of digni- 
 taries, " why should such a condition exist when three 
 hundred and sixty-five men sat in the House of Commons, 
 sent there by electors to administer the just and wise laws 
 of a just and wise country? Why? " 
 
 As he paused and glared around the table for the reply 
 that was not forthcoming, the undying phrase sprang 
 new-born from his lips : 
 
 " Oh," he cried ; " oh ! that for one brief hour Provi- 
 dence would immerse that island of discontent beneath the 
 waters of the Atlantic and destroy a people who seemed 
 bent on destroying themselves and on disintegrating 
 the majesty and dignity and honour of our great Em- 
 pire!" 
 
 Feeling that no words of his could follow so marvellous 
 a climax, he sat down, amid a silence that seemed to him 
 to be fraught with eloquence, so impressive and significant 
 was to him its full meaning. Some speeches are 
 cheered vulgarly. It was the outward sign of coarse ap- 
 proval. Others are enjoyed and sympathised with in- 
 wardly, and the outward tribute to which was silence 
 and that was the tribute of that particular Guildhall 
 gathering on that great night. 
 
 It seemed to Wilber force Kingsnorth, hardened after- 
 dinner speaker though he was, that never had a body of 
 men such as he confronted and who met his gaze by drop-
 
 30 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 ping their eyes modestly to their glasses, been so gen- 
 uinely thrilled by so original, so comprehensive and so 
 dramatic a conclusion to a powerful appeal. 
 
 Kingsnorth felt, as he sat down, that it was indeed a 
 red-letter night for him and for England. 
 
 The Times, in reviewing the speeches the following 
 morning, significantly commented that : 
 
 " Mr. Kingsnorth had solved, in a moment of entreaty, 
 to a hitherto indifferent Providence, the entire Irish diffi- 
 culty." 
 
 When Nathaniel Kingsnorth found himself the fortu- 
 nate possessor of this tract of land peopled by so lawless 
 a race, he determined to see for himself what the con- 
 ditions really were, so for the first time since they owned 
 a portion of it, a Kingsnorth set foot on Irish soil. 
 
 Accompanied by his two sisters he arrived quietly 
 some few weeks before and addressed himself at once to 
 the task of understanding the people and the circum- 
 stances in which they lived. 
 
 On this particular afternoon he was occupied with his 
 agent, going systematically through the details of the 
 management of the estate. 
 
 It was indeed a discouraging prospect. Such a condi- 
 tion of pauperism seemed incredible in a village within a 
 few hours of his own England. Except for a few moder- 
 ately thriving tradesmen, the whole population seemed to 
 live from hand to mouth. The entire village was in 
 debt. They owed the landlords, the tradesmen, they even 
 owed each other money and goods. It seemed to be a 
 community cut off from the rest of the world, in which 
 nothing from the outside ever entered. No money was 
 ever put into the village. On the contrary there was a 
 continuous withdrawal. By present standards a day 
 would come when the last coin would depart and the fa-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 31 
 
 voured spot would be as independent of money as many 
 of the poorer people were of clothing. 
 
 It came as a shock to Nathaniel Kingsnorth. For the 
 first time it began to dawn on him that, after all, the 
 agitators might really have some cause to agitate: that 
 their attitude was not one of merely fighting for the sake 
 of the fight. Yet a lingering suspicion, borne of his 
 early training, and his father's doctrines about Ireland, 
 that Pat was really a scheming, dishonest fellow, ob- 
 truded itself on his mind, even as he became more than 
 half convinced of the little village's desperate plight. 
 
 Nathaniel loathed injustice. As the magistrate of his 
 county he punished dishonesty. Was the condition he 
 saw due to English injustice or Irish dishonesty? That 
 was the problem that he was endeavouring to solve. 
 
 " There doesn't seem to be a sixpence circulating 
 through the whole place," he remarked to the agent when 
 that gentleman had concluded his statement of the posi- 
 tion of matters. 
 
 " And there never will be, until some one puts money 
 into the village instead of taking it out of it," said the 
 agent. 
 
 " You refer to the land-owners ? " 
 
 " I do. And it's many's the time I wrote your father 
 them same words." 
 
 " It is surely not unnatural for owners to expect to be 
 paid for the use of houses and land, is it? We expect it 
 in England," said Kingsnorth drily. 
 
 " In England the landlord usually lives on his estate 
 and takes some pride in it." 
 
 " Small pride anyone could take in such an estate as 
 this," Kingsnorth laughed bitterly. Then he went on: 
 " And as for living on it ," and he shrugged his shoul- 
 ders in disgust.
 
 32 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Before the Kingsnorths came into possession the 
 MacMahons lived on it, and proud the people were of 
 them and they of the people, sir." 
 
 " I wish to God they'd continued to," said Kingsnorth 
 wrathfully. 
 
 " They beggared themselves for the people that's 
 what they did, sir. Improvements here a road there. 
 A quarry cut to give men work and a breakwater built to 
 keep the sea from washing away the poor fishermen's 
 homes. And when famine came not a penny rent asked 
 
 and their women-kind feedin' and nursin' the starvin' 
 and the sick. An' all the time raisin' money to do it. 
 A mortgage on this and a note of hand for that until 
 the whole place was plastered with debt. Then out they 
 were turned." 
 
 The agent moved away and looked out across the well- 
 trimmed lawn to conceal his emotion. 
 
 " Ill-timed charity and business principles scarcely go 
 together, my good Burke," said Kingsnorth, with ill-con- 
 cealed impatience. He did not like this man's tone. It 
 suggested a glorification of the former bankrupt landlord 
 and a lack of appreciation of the present solvent one. 
 
 " So the English think," Burke answered. 
 
 Kingsnorth went on : " If we knew the whole truth we 
 would probably find the very methods these people used 
 were the cause of the sorry condition this village is in 
 now. No landlord has the right to pauperise his ten- 
 antry by giving them money and their homes rent-free. 
 It is a man's duty and privilege to work. Independence 
 
 that is what a man should aim at. The Irish are 
 always crying for it. They never seem to practise it." 
 
 " Ye can't draw the water out of a kettle and expect 
 it to boil, sir, and by the same token independence is af 
 fine thing to tache to men who are dependent on all."
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 33 
 
 " Your sympathies appear to be entirely with the 
 people," said Kingsnorth, looking shrewdly and suspi- 
 ciously at the agent. 
 
 " No one could live here man and boy and not give it 
 to them," answered Burke. 
 
 " You're frank, anyway." 
 
 *' Pity there are not more like me, sir." 
 
 " I'll see what it is possible to do in the matter of im- 
 proving conditions. Mind I promise nothing. I put 
 my tenants on probation. It seems hopeless. I'll start 
 works for the really needy. If they show a desire to take 
 advantage of my interest in them I'll extend my opera- 
 tions. If they do not I'll stop everything and put the 
 estate on the market." 
 
 Burke looked at him and smiled a dry, cracked smile. 
 
 He was a thin, active, grizzled man, well past fifty, 
 with keen, shrewd eyes that twinkled with humour, or 
 sparkled with ferocity, or melted with sorrow as the 
 mood seized him. As he answered Kingsnorth the eyes 
 twinkled. 
 
 " I'm sure it's grateful the poor people 'ull be when 
 they hear the good news of yer honour's interest in 
 them." 
 
 " I hope so. Although history teaches us that grati- 
 tude is not a common quality in Ireland. ' If an Irish- 
 man is being roasted you will always find another Irish- 
 man to turn the spit, 5 a statesman quoted in the House 
 of Commons a few nights ago." 
 
 " That must be why the same statesman puts them in 
 prison for standin' by each other, I suppose," said Burke, 
 with a faint smile. 
 
 * You are now speaking of the curses of this country 
 the agitators. They are the real cause of this deplor- 
 able misery. Who will put money into a country that is
 
 ridden by these scoundrels ? Rid Ireland of agitators and 
 you advance her prosperity a hundred years. They are 
 the clogs on the wheel of a nation's progress." He 
 picked up a copy of the local newspaper and read a head- 
 line from one of the columns : 
 
 " I see you have agitators even here ? " 
 
 " We have, sir." 
 
 " Drive them out of the town. Let the people live 
 their own lives without such disturbing elements in them. 
 Tell them distinctly that from the moment they begin to 
 work for me I'll have no * meetings ' on my property. 
 Any of my tenants or workmen found attending them 
 elsewhere will be evicted and discharged." 
 
 " I'll tell them, sir." 
 
 " I mean to put that kind of lawlessness down with a 
 firm hand." 
 
 " If ye do ye'll be the first, Mr. Kingsnorth." 
 
 " There is one I see to-day," glancing again at the 
 paper. 
 
 " There is, sir." 
 
 " Who is this man O'Connell? " 
 
 " A native of the village, sir." 
 
 " What is he a paid agitator ? " 
 
 " Faith there's little pay he gets, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 " Why don't the police arrest him ? " 
 
 " Mebbe they will, sir." 
 
 " I'll see that they do." 
 
 Burke smiled. 
 
 " And what do you find so amusing, Mr. Burke ? " 
 
 " It's a wondher the English government doesn't get 
 tired of arrestin' them. As fast as they do others take 
 their place. It's the persecution brings fresh converts 
 to the * Cause.' Put one man in jail and there'll be a 
 hundred new followers the next day."
 
 " We'll see," said Kingsnorth firmly. " Here is one 
 district where the law will be enforced. These meetings 
 and their frequent bloodshed are a disgrace to a civilised 
 people." 
 
 " Ye may well say that, yer honour," replied Burke. 
 
 " Before I invest one penny to better the condition of 
 the people I must have their pledge to abandon such dis- 
 graceful methods of trying to enlist sympathy. I'll be- 
 gin with this man O'Connell. Have him brought to me 
 to-morrow. I'll manage this estate my own way or I'll 
 wash my hands of it. My father was often tempted to." 
 
 " He resisted the temptation though, sir." 
 
 " I'm sorry he did. That will do for to-day. Leave 
 these statements. I'll go over them again. It's hard to 
 make head or tail of the whole business. Be here to- 
 morrow at ten. Bring that fellow O'Connell with you. 
 Also give me a list of some of the more intelligent and 
 trustworthy of the people and I'll sound them as to the 
 prospects of opening up work here. Drop them a hint 
 that my interest is solely on the understanding that this 
 senseless agitation stops." 
 
 " I will, sir. To-morrow morning at ten," and Burke 
 started for the door. 
 
 " Oh, and Burke I hope you are more discreet 
 with my tenants than you have been with me ? " 
 
 " In what way, Mr. Kingsnorth? " 
 
 " I trust that you confine your sympathy with them 
 to your feelings and not give expression to them in 
 words." 
 
 " I can't say that I do, Mr. Kingsnorth." 
 
 " It would be wiser to in future, Mr. Burke." 
 
 " Well, ye see, sir, I'm a man first and an agent after- 
 wards." 
 
 " Indeed? "
 
 36 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Yes, sir. It's many's the ugly thing I've had to do 
 for your father, and if a kind word of mine hadn't gone 
 with it, it's precious little of the estate would be fit to 
 look at to-day, Mr. Kingsnorth." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 " Do ye remember when Kilkee's Scotch steward evicted 
 two hundred in one day, sir? " 
 
 " I do not." 
 
 " Rade about it. It's very enlightenin'." 
 
 "What happened?" 
 
 " The poor wretched, evicted people burnt down every 
 dwellin' and tree on the place, sir." 
 
 " I would know how to handle such ruffians." 
 
 " That's what Kilkee thought. * Tache them a lesson,* 
 said he. ' Turn them into the ditches ! ' And he did. 
 He thought he knew how to handle them. He woke up 
 with a jump one mornin' when he found a letter from the 
 under-steward tellin' him his Scotch master was in the 
 hospital with a bullet in his spleen, and the beautiful 
 house and grounds were just so much blackened ashes." 
 
 " It seems to me, my good man, there is a note of 
 agreement with such methods, in your tone." 
 
 " Manin' the evictin' or the burnin', yer honour? " 
 
 " You know what I mean," and Kingsnorth's voice rose 
 angrily. 
 
 " I think I do," answered Burke quietly. 
 
 " I want an agent who is devoted to my interests and 
 to whom the people are secondary." 
 
 " Then ye'd betther send to England for one, sir. 
 The men devoted to landlords and against the people 
 are precious few in this part of Ireland, sir." 
 
 " Do you intend that I should act on that ? " 
 
 " If ye wish. Ye can have my time at a price, but ye
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 37 
 
 won't have my independence for any sum ye like to 
 offer." 
 
 " Very well. Send me your resignation, to take effect 
 one month from to-day." 
 
 " It's grateful I am, Mr. Kingsnorth," and he went 
 out. 
 
 In through the open window came the sound of the 
 tramping of many feet and the whisper of subdued voices. 
 
 Kingsnorth hurried out on to the path and saw a num- 
 ber of men and women walking slowly down the drive, in 
 the centre of which the soldiers were carrying a body on 
 some branches. Riding beside them was his sister Angela 
 with her groom. 
 
 " What new horror is this ? " he thought, as he hurried 
 down the path to meet the procession.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ANGELA 
 
 WILBERFORCE KINGSNORTH left three children : Nath- 
 aniel whose acquaintance we have already made, and 
 who in a large measure inherited much of his father's 
 dominant will and hardheadedness Monica, the elder 
 
 4 
 
 (daughter, and Angela the younger. 
 
 Nathaniel was the old man's favourite. 
 
 While still a youth he inculcated into the boy all the 
 tenets of business, morality and politics that had made 
 Wilberforce prosperous. 
 
 Pride 'in his name : a sturdy grasp of life : an unbend- 
 ing attitude toward those beneath him, and an abiding 
 reverence for law and order and fealty to the throne 
 these were the foundations on which the father built 
 Nathaniel's character. 
 
 Next in point of regard came the elder daughter Mon- 
 ica. Patrician of feature, haughty in manner, exclusive 
 by nature she had the true Kingsnorth air. She had no 
 disturbing " ideas " : no yearning for things not of her 
 station. She was contented with the world as it had been 
 made for her and seemed duly proud and grateful to have 
 been born a Kingsnorth. 
 
 She was an excellent musician: rode fairly to hounds: 
 bestowed prizes at the local charities with grace and dis- 
 tinction as became a Kingsnorth and looked coldly 
 out at the world from behind the impenetrable barriers 
 of an old name. 
 
 When she married Frederick Chichester, the rising 
 
 38
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 39 
 
 barrister, connected with six county families, it was a 
 proud day for old Kingsnorth. 
 
 His family had originally made their money in trade. 
 The Chichesters had accumulated a fortune by profes- 
 sions. 
 
 The distinction in England is marked. 
 
 One hesitates to acknowledge the salutation of the man 
 who provides one with the necessities of life: a hearty 
 handshake is occasionally extended to those who minister 
 to one's luxuries. 
 
 In England the law is one of the most expensive 
 of luxuries and its devotees command the highest re- 
 gard. 
 
 Frederick Chichester came of a long line of illustrious 
 lawyers one had even reached the distinction of being 
 made a judge. He belonged to an honourable profes- 
 sion. 
 
 Chichesters had made the laws of the country in the 
 House of Commons as well as administered them in the 
 Courts. 
 
 The old man was overjoyed. 
 
 He made a handsome settlement on his eldest daughter 
 on her marriage and felt he had done well by her, even as 
 she had by him. 
 
 His son and elder daughter were distinctly a credit to 
 him. 
 
 Five years after Monica's birth Angela unexpectedly 
 was born to the Kingsnorths. 
 
 A delicate, sickly infant, it seemed as if the splendid 
 blood of the family had expended its vigour on the elder 
 children. 
 
 Angela needed constant attention to keep her alive. 
 From tremulous infancy she grew into delicate youth. 
 None of the strict standards Kingsnorth had used so
 
 40 PEGX)' MY HEART 
 
 effectually with his other children applied to her. She 
 seemed a child apart. 
 
 Not needing her, Kingsnorth did not love her. He 
 gave her a form of tolerant affection. 
 
 Too fragile to mix with others, she was brought up at 
 home. Tutors furnished her education. The winters 
 she passed abroad with her mother. When her mother 
 died she spent them with relations or friends. The grim 
 dampness of the English climate was too rigorous for a 
 life that needed sunshine. 
 
 Angela had nothing in common with either her brother 
 or her sister. She avoided them and they her. They 
 did not understand her: she understood them only too 
 well! 
 
 A nature that craved for sympathy and affection 
 as the frail so often do was repulsed by those to whom 
 affection was but a form, and sympathy a term of re- 
 proach. 
 
 She loved all that was beautiful, and, as so frequently 
 happens in such natures as Angela's, she had an over- 
 whelming pity for all that were unhappy. To her God 
 made the world beautiful: man was responsible for its 
 hideousness. From her heart she pitied mankind for 
 abusing the gifts God had showered on them. 
 
 It was on her first home-coming since her mother's 
 death that her attention was really drawn to her father's 
 Irish possessions. 
 
 By a curious coincidence she returned home the day 
 following Wilberforce Kingsnorth's electrical speech, in- 
 voking Providence to interpose in the settlement of the 
 Irish difficulty. It was the one topic of conversation 
 throughout dinner. And it was during that dinner that 
 Angela for the first time really angered her father and
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 41 
 
 raised a barrier between them that lasted until the day of 
 his death. 
 
 The old man had laughed coarsely at the remembrance 
 of his speech on the previous night, and licked his lips at 
 the thought of it. 
 
 Monica, who was visiting her father for a few days, 
 smiled in agreeable sympathy. 
 
 Nathaniel nodded cheerfully. 
 
 From her father's side Angela asked quietly: 
 
 " Have you ever been in Ireland, father? " 
 
 " No, I have not," answered the old man sharply. 
 " And, what is more, I never intend to go there." 
 
 " Do you know anything about the Irish? " persisted 
 Angela. 
 
 "Do I? More than the English government does. 
 Don't I own land there? " 
 
 " I mean do you know anything about the people ? " in- 
 sisted Angela. 
 
 " I know them to be a lot of thieving, rascally scoun- 
 drels, too lazy to work, and too dishonest to pay their 
 way, even when they have the money." 
 
 " Is that all you know? " 
 
 " All? " He stopped eating to look angrily at his 
 daughter. The cross-examination was not to his liking. 
 
 Angela went on: 
 
 " Yes, father; is that all you know about the Irish? " 
 
 " Isn't it enough? " His voice rose shrilly. It was 
 the first time for years anyone had dared use those two 
 hated words " Ireland " and ** Irish " at his table. An- 
 gela must be checked and at once. 
 
 Before he could begin to check her, however, Angela 
 answered his question : 
 
 " It wouldn't be enough for me if I had the responsi-
 
 42 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 bilities and duties of a landlord. To be the owner of an 
 estate should be to act as the people's friend, their father, 
 their adviser in times of plenty and their comrade in 
 times of sorrow." 
 
 " Indeed? And pray where did you learn all that, 
 Miss ? " asked the astonished parent. 
 
 Without noticing the interruption or the question, 
 Angela went on: 
 
 " Why deny a country its own government when Eng- 
 land is practically governed by its countrymen? Is there 
 any position of prominence to-day in England that isn't 
 filled by Irishmen? Think. Our Commander-in-Chief is 
 Irish : our Lord High Admiral is Irish : there are the de- 
 fences of the English in the hands of two Irishmen and 
 yet you call them thieving and rascally scoundrels." 
 
 Kingsnorth tried to speak ; Angela raised her voice : 
 
 " Turn to your judges the Lord Chief is an Irish- 
 man. Look at the House of Commons. Our laws are 
 passed or defeated by the Irish vote, and yet so blindly 
 ignorant and obstinate is our insular prejudice that we 
 refuse them the favours they do us governing them- 
 selves as well as England." 
 
 Kingsnorth looked at his daughter aghast. Treason 
 in his own house ! His child speaking the two most hated 
 of all words at his own dinner table and in laudatory 
 terms. He could scarcely believe it. He looked at her 
 a moment and then thundered: 
 
 " How dare you 1 How dare you ! " 
 
 Angela smiled a little amusedly-tolerant smile as she 
 looked frankly at her father and answered: 
 
 " This is exactly the old-fashioned tone we English 
 take to anything we don't understand. And that is why 
 other countries are leaving us in the race. There is a 
 nation living within a few hours' journey from our doors,
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 43 
 
 yet millions of English people are as ignorant of them as 
 if they lived in Senegambia." She paused, looked once 
 more straight into her father's eyes and said : " And 
 you, father, seem to be as ignorant as the worst of 
 them!" 
 
 " Angela ! " cried her sister in horror. 
 
 Nathaniel laughed good-naturedly, leaned across to 
 Angela and said: 
 
 " I see our little sister has been reading the sensational 
 magazines. Yes ? " 
 
 " I've done more than that," replied Angela. " In 
 Nice a month ago were two English members of Parlia- 
 ment who had taken the trouble to visit the country they 
 were supposed to assist in governing. They told me 
 that a condition of misery existed throughout the whole 
 of Ireland that was incredible under a civilised govern- 
 ment." 
 
 " Radicals, eh ? " snapped her father. 
 
 " No. Conservatives. One of them had once held the 
 office of Chief Secretary for Ireland and was Ireland's 
 most bitter persecutor, until he visited the country. 
 When he saw the wretchedness of her people he stopped 
 his stringent methods and began casting about for some 
 ways of lessening the poor people's torment." 
 
 " The more shame to him to talk like that to a girl. 
 And what's more you had no right to listen to him. A 
 Conservative indeed ! A fine one he must be ! " 
 
 " He is. I don't see why the Liberal party should 
 have all the enlightenment and the Conservative party all 
 the bigotry." 
 
 " Don't anger your father," pleaded Monica. 
 
 " Why, little Angela has come back to us quite a revo- 
 lutionary," said Nathaniel. 
 
 " Leave the table," shouted her father.
 
 44 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Without a word Angela got up quietly and left the 
 room. Her manner was entirely unmoved. She had 
 spoken from her inmost convictions. The fact that they 
 were opposed to her father was immaterial. She loathed 
 tyranny and his method of shutting the mouths of those 
 who disagreed with him was particularly obnoxious to 
 her. It was also most ineffectual with her. From child- 
 hood she had always spoken as she felt. No discipline 
 checked her. Freedom of speech as well as freedom of 
 thought were as natural and essential to her as breathing 
 was. 
 
 From that time she saw but little of her father. When 
 he died he left her to her brother's care. Kingsnorth 
 made no absolute provision for her. She was to be de- 
 pendent on Nathaniel. When the time came that she 
 seemed to wish to marry, if her brother approved of 
 the match, he should make a handsome settlement on 
 her. 
 
 In response to her request Nathaniel allowed her to go 
 with him to Ireland on his tour of inspection. 
 
 Mr. Chichester was actively engaged at the Old Bailey 
 on an important criminal case, so Monica also joined 
 them. 
 
 Everything Angela saw in Ireland appealed to her quick 
 sympathy and gentle heart. It was just as she had 
 thought and read and listened to. On every side she saw 
 a kindly people borne down by the weight of poverty. 
 Lives ruined by sickness and the lack of nourishment. A 
 splendid race perishing through misgovernment and in- 
 tolerant ignorance. 
 
 Angela went about amongst the people and made 
 friends with them. They were chary at first of taking 
 her to their hearts. She was of the hated Saxon race. 
 What was she doing there, she, the sister of their, till
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 45 
 
 now, absentee landlord? She soon won them over by her 
 appealing voice and kindly interest. 
 
 All this Angela did in direct opposition to her brother's 
 wishes and her sister's exhortations. 
 
 The morning of the meeting she had ridden some miles 
 to visit a poor family. Out of five three were in bed with 
 low fever. She got a doctor for them, gave them money 
 to buy necessities and, with a promise to return the next 
 day, she rode away. 
 
 When within some little distance of her brother's house 
 she saw a steady, irregular stream of people climbing a 
 great hill. She rode toward it, and, screened by a clump 
 of trees, saw and heard the meeting. 
 
 When O'Connell first spoke his voice thrilled her. Grad- 
 ually the excitement of the people under the mastery of 
 his power, communicated itself to her. It pulsed in her 
 blood, and throbbed in her brain. For the first time she 
 realised what a marvellous force was the Call of the Pa- 
 triot. To listen and watch a man risking life and liberty 
 in the cause of his country. Her heart, and her mind 
 and her soul went out to him. 
 
 When the soldiers marched on to the scene she was 
 paralysed with fear. When the order to fire was given 
 she wanted to ride into their midst and cry out to them 
 to stop. But she was unable to move hand or foot. 
 
 When the smoke had thinned and she saw the bodies 
 lying motionless on the ground of men who a moment 
 before had been full of life and strength : when was added 
 to that the horror of the wounded crying out with pain, 
 her first impulse was to fly from the sight of the carnage. 
 She mastered that moment of fear and plunged forward, 
 calling to the groom to follow her. 
 
 What immediately followed has already been told. 
 
 The long, slow, tortuous journey home: the men slowly
 
 46 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 following with the ghastly mute-body on the rude litter, 
 became a living memory to her for all the remainder of 
 her life. 
 
 She glanced down every little while at the stone-white 
 face and shuddered as she found herself wondering if she 
 would ever hear his voice again or see those great blue- 
 grey eyes flash with his fierce courage and devotion. 
 
 Once only did the lips of the wounded man move. In 
 a moment Angela had dismounted and halted the soldiers. 
 As she bent down over him O'Connell swooned again from 
 pain. 
 
 The procession went on. 
 
 As they neared her brother's house, stragglers began 
 to follow curiously. Sad looking men and weary women 
 joined the procession wonderingly. All guessed it was 
 some fresh outrage of the soldiers. 
 
 Little, ragged, old-young children peered down at the 
 body on the litter and either ran away crying or joined 
 in listlessly with the others. 
 
 It was an old story carrying back mutilated men to the 
 village. None was surprised. 
 
 It seemed to Angela that an infinity of time had passed 
 before they entered the grounds attached to the Kings- 
 north house. 
 
 She sent a man on ahead to order a room to be pre- 
 pared and a doctor sent for. 
 
 As she saw her brother coming forward to meet her 
 with knit brows and stern eyes she nerved herself to greet 
 him. 
 
 " What is this, Angela ? " he asked, looking in amaze- 
 ment at the strange procession. 
 
 " Another martyr to our ignorant government, Na- 
 thaniel," and she pressed on through the drive to the 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ANGELA SPEAKS HER MIND FREELY TO NATHANIEL 
 
 NATHANIEL'S indignation at his sister's conduct was 
 beyond bounds when he learnt who the wounded man was. 
 He ordered the soldiers to take the man and themselves 
 away. 
 
 The magistrate interposed and begged him to at least 
 let O'Connell rest there until a doctor could patch him 
 up. It might be dangerous to take him back without 
 medical treatment. He assured Nathaniel that the mo- 
 ment they could move him he would be lodged in the 
 county-j ail. 
 
 Nathaniel went back to his study as the sorry proces- 
 sion passed on to the front door. 
 
 He sent immediately for his sister. 
 
 The reply came back that she would see him at 
 dinner. 
 
 He commanded her to come to him at once. 
 
 In a few minutes Angela came into the room. She was 
 deathly pale. Her voice trembled as she spoke : 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 " Why did you bring that man here ? " 
 
 " Because he is wounded." 
 
 " Such scoundrels are better dead." 
 
 " I don't think so. Nor do I think him a scoundrel." 
 
 " He came here to attack landlords to attack me. 
 'Me! And you bring him to my house and with that 
 rabble. It's outrageous ! Monstrous ! " 
 
 " I couldn't leave him with those heartless wretches to 
 
 die in their hands." 
 
 47
 
 48 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 " He leaves here the moment a doctor has attended 
 him." 
 
 "Very well. Is that all?" 
 
 " No, it isn't ! " Kingsnorth tried to control his anger. 
 After a pause he continued: 
 
 " I want no more of these foolhardy, quixotic actions 
 of yours. I've heard of your visiting these wretched 
 people going into fever dens. Is that conduct becom- 
 ing your name? Think a little of your station in life and 
 what it demands." 
 
 " I wish you did a little more." 
 
 " What ? " he shouted, all his anger returned. 
 
 " There's no need to raise your voice," Angela answered 
 quietly. " I am only a few feet away. I repeat that I 
 wish you thought a little more of your obligations. If 
 you did and others like you in the same position you are 
 in, there would be no such horrible scenes as I saw to-day ; 
 a man shot down amongst his own people for speaking 
 the truth." 
 
 " You saw it ? " Nathaniel asked in dismay. 
 
 " I did. I not only saw, but I heard. I wish you had, 
 too. I heard a man lay bare his heart and his brain and 
 his soul that others might know the light in them. I saw 
 and heard a man offer up his life that others might know 
 some gleam of happiness in their lives. It was wonder- 
 ful ! It was heroic ! It was God-like ! '* 
 
 " If I ever hear of you doing such a thing again, you 
 shall go back to London the next day." 
 
 " That sounds exactly as though my dead father were 
 speaking." 
 
 " I'll not be made a laughing-stock by you." 
 
 " You make yourself one as your father did before you. 
 A Kingsnorth! What has your name meant? Because 
 one of our forefathers cheated the world into giving him a
 
 fortune, by buying his goods for more than they were 
 worth, we have tried to canonise him and put a halo 
 around the name of Kingsnorth. To me it stands for all 
 that is mean and selfish and vain and ignorant. The 
 power of money over intellect. How did we become 
 owners of this miserable piece of land? A Kingsnorth 
 swindled its rightful owner. Lent him money on usury, 
 bought up his bills and his mortgages and when he 
 couldn't pay foreclosed on him. No wonder there's a 
 curse on the village and on us ! " 
 
 Kingsnorth tried to speak, but she stopped him: 
 
 " Wait a moment. It was a good stroke of business 
 taking this estate away. Oh yes, it was a good stroke of 
 business. Our name has been built up on ' good strokes of 
 business.' Well, I tell you it's a bad stroke of business 
 when human lives are put into the hands of such creatures 
 as we Kingsnorths have proved ourselves ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Nathaniel, outraged to the innermost 
 sanctuary of his being. " Stop ! You don't speak like 
 one of our family. It is like listening to some heretic 
 some " 
 
 " I don't feel like one of your family. You are a 
 Kingsnorth. I am my mother's child. My poor, gentle, 
 patient mother, who lived a life of unselfish resignation : 
 who welcomed death, when it came to her, as a release from 
 tyranny. Don't call me a Kingsnorth. I know the 
 family too well. I know all the name means to the people 
 who have suffered through your family" 
 
 " After this the best thing the only thing is to 
 separate," said Nathaniel. 
 
 " Whenever you wish." 
 
 " I'll make you an allowance." 
 
 " Don't let it be a burden." 
 
 " I've never been so shocked so stunned "
 
 50 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I am glad. From my cradle I've been shocked and 
 stunned in my home. It's some compensation to know 
 you are capable of the feeling, too. Frankly, I didn't 
 think you were." 
 
 " We'll talk no more of this," and Nathaniel began to 
 pace the room. 
 
 " I am finished," and Angela went to the door. 
 
 " It would be better we didn't meet again in any 
 event not often," added Nathaniel. 
 
 " Thank you," said Angela, opening the door. He 
 motioned her to close it, that he had something more to 
 say. 
 
 " We'll find you some suitable chaperone. You can 
 spend your winters abroad, as you have been doing. 
 London for the season until you're suitably married. 
 I'll follow out my father's wishes to the letter. You shall 
 be handsomely provided for the day you marry." 
 
 She closed the door with a snap and came back to him 
 and looked him steadily in the eyes. 
 
 " The man I marry shall take nothing from you. 
 Even in his * last will and testament ' my father proved 
 himself a Kingsnorth. It was only a Kingsnorth could 
 make his youngest daughter dependent on you! " 
 
 " My father knew I would respect his wishes." 
 
 " He was equally responsible for me, yet he leaves me 
 to your care. A Kingsnorth! 
 
 " The men masters and the women slaves! 
 
 " That is the Kingsnorth doctrine. 
 
 "It is a pity our father didn't live a little longer. 
 There are many changes coming into this old grey world 
 of ours and one of them is the real, honourable position of 
 woman. The day will come in England when we will 
 wring from our fathers and our brothers as our right 
 what is doled out to us now as though we were beggars.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 51 
 
 " And they are trying to govern the country of Ire- 
 land in the same way. The reign of the despot. Well, 
 that is nearly over too even as woman's degrading 
 position to-day is almost at an end." 
 
 " Have you finished? " 
 
 Once again Angela went to the door. Nathaniel said 
 in a somewhat changed toner 
 
 " As it is your wish this man should be cared for, I'll 
 do it. When he is well enough to be moved, the magis- 
 trate will take him to jail. But, for the little while we 
 shall be here, I beg you not to do anything so unseemly 
 again." 
 
 A servant came in to tell Angela the doctor had come. 
 Without a word Angela went out to see to the wounded 
 man. 
 
 The servant followed her. 
 
 Left alone, Nathaniel sat down, shocked and stunned, 
 to review the interview he had just had with his youngest 
 sister.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE WOUNDED PATRIOT 
 
 WHEN Angela entered the sick-room she found Dr. 
 McGinnis, a cheery, bright-eyed, rotund little man of 
 fifty, talking freely to the patient and punctuating each 
 speech with a hearty laugh. His good-humour was in- 
 fectious. 
 
 The wounded agitator felt the effect of it and was try- 
 ing to laugh feebly himself. 
 
 " Sure it's the fine target ye must have made with yer 
 six feet and one inch. How could the poor soldiers help 
 hittin' ye? Answer me that?" and the jovial doctor 
 laughed again as he dexterously wound a bandage around 
 O'Connell's arm. 
 
 " Aisy now while I tie the bandage, me fine fellow. 
 Ye'll live to see the inside of an English jail yet." 
 
 He turned as he heard the door open and greeted An- 
 gela. 
 
 " Good afternoon to ye, Miss Kingsnorth. Faith, it's 
 a blessin' ye brought the boy here. There's no tellin' 
 what the prison-surgeon would have done to him. It is 
 saltpetre, they tell me, the English doctors rub into the 
 Irish wounds, to kape them smartin'. And, by the like 
 token, they do the same too in the English House of 
 Commons. Saltpetre in Ireland's wounds is what they 
 give us." 
 
 " Is he much hurt ? " asked Angela. 
 
 " Well, they've broken nothin'. Just blackened his 
 face and made a few holes in his skin. It's buckshot 
 they used. Buckshot ! Thank the merciful Mr. Forster
 
 for that same. * Buckshot-Forster,' as the Irish rever- 
 ently call him." 
 
 Angela flushed with indignation as she looked at the 
 crippled man. 
 
 " What a dastardly thing to do," she cried. 
 
 " Ye may well say that, Miss Kingsnorth," said the 
 merry little doctor. " But it's betther than a bullet from 
 a Martini-Henry rifle, that's what it is. And there's many 
 a poor English landlord's got one of 'em in the back for 
 ridin' about at night on his own land. It's a fatherly 
 government we have, Miss Kingsnorth. * Hurt 'em, but 
 don't quite kill 'em,' sez they ; ' and then put 'em in jail 
 and feed them on bread and wather. That'll take the 
 fine talkin' and patriotism out of them,' sez they." 
 
 " They'll never take it out of me. They may kill me, 
 perhaps, but until they do they'll never silence me," mur- 
 mured O'Connell in a voice so low, yet so bitter, that it 
 startled Angela. 
 
 " Ye'll do that all in good time, me fine boy," said the 
 busy little doctor. " Here, take a pull at this," and he 
 handed the patient a glass in which he had dropped a few 
 crystals into some water. 
 
 As O'Connell drank the mixture Dr. McGinnis said in 
 a whisper to Angela: 
 
 " Let him have that every three hours : of tener if he 
 wants to talk. We've got to get his mind at rest. A 
 good sleep'll make a new man of him." 
 
 " There's no danger? " asked Angela in the same tone. 
 
 " None in the wurrld. He's got a fine constitution and 
 mebbe the buckshot was pretty clean. I've washed them 
 out well." 
 
 " To think of men shot down like dogs for speaking of 
 their country. It's horrible! It's wicked! It's mon- 
 strous."
 
 54. PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Faith, the English don't know what else to do with 
 them, Miss. It's no use arguin' with the like of him. 
 That man lyin' on that bed 'ud talk the hind-foot off a 
 heifer. The only way to kape the likes of him quiet is to 
 shoot him, and begob they have." 
 
 " I heard you, doctor," came from the bed. " If 
 they'd killed me to-day there would be a thousand voices 
 would rise all over Ireland to take the place of mine. One 
 martyr makes countless converts." 
 
 " Faith, I'd rather kape me own life than to have a 
 hundred thousand spakin' for me and me dead. Where's 1 
 the good that would be doin' me ? Now kape still there all 
 through the beautiful night, and let the blessed medicine 
 quiet ye and the coolin' ointment aize yer pain. I'll come 
 in by-and-by on the way back home. I'm goin' up 
 beyant ' The Gap ' to some poor people with the fever. 
 But I'll be back." 
 
 "Thank you, Dr. McGinnis." 
 
 " Is it long yer stayin' here ? " and the little man 
 picked up his hat. 
 
 " I don't know," said Angela. " I hardly think so." 
 
 " Well, it's you they'll miss when ye're gone, Miss 
 Kingsnorth. Faith if all the English were like you this 
 sort of thing couldn't happen." 
 
 " We don't try to understand the people, doctor. We 
 just govern them blindly and ignorantly." 
 
 " Faith it's small blame to the English. We're a 
 mighty hard race to make head nor tail of. And that's 
 a fact. Prayin' at Mass one aainnit and maimin' cattle 
 the next. Cryin* salt tears at the bedside of a sick child 
 and lavin' it to shoot a poor man in the ribs for darin* to 
 ask for his rint." 
 
 " They're not Irishmen," came from the sick bed. 
 
 " Faith and they are now. And it's small wondher
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 55 
 
 the men who sit in Whitehall in London trate them like 
 savages." 
 
 " I've seen tilings since I've been here that would justify 
 almost anything ! " cried Angela. " I've seen suffering 
 no one in England dreamt of. Misery, that London, 
 with all its poverty and wretchedness, could not compare 
 with. Were I born in Ireland I should be proud to stake 
 my liberty and my life to protect my own people from 
 such horrible brutality." 
 
 The wounded man opened his eyes and looked full at 
 Angela. It was a look at once of gratitude and reverence 
 and admiration. 
 
 Her heart leaped within her. 
 
 So far no man in the little walled-in zone she had lived 
 in had ever stirred her to an even momentary enthusiasm. 
 They were all so fatuously contented with their environ- 
 ment. Sheltered from birth, their anxiety was chiefly how 
 to make life pass the pleasantest. They occasionally 
 showed a spasmodic excitement over the progress of a 
 cricket or polo match. Their achievements were largely 
 those of the stay-at-home warriors who fought with the 
 quill what others faced death with the sword for. Their 
 inertia disgusted her. Their self-satisfaction spurred 
 her to resentment. 
 
 Here was a man in the real heart of life. He was en- 
 gaged in a struggle that makes existence worth while * 
 the effort to bring a message to his people. 
 
 How all the conversations she was forced to listen to 
 in her narrow world rose up before her in their 
 carping meannesses ! Her father's brutal diatribes 
 against a people, unfortunate enough to be compelled, 
 from force of circumstance, to live on a portion of land 
 that belonged to him, yet in whose lives he took no in- 
 terest whatsoever. His only anxiety was to be paid his
 
 56 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 rents. How, and through what misery, his tenants 
 scraped the money together to do it with, mattered noth- 
 ing to him. All that did matter was that he must be 
 paid. 
 
 Then arose a picture of her sister Monica, with her 
 puny social pretensions. Recognition of those in a 
 higher grade bread and meat and drink to her. Adula- 
 tion and gross flattery the very breath of her nostrils. 
 
 Her brother's cheap, narrow platitudes about the 
 rights of rank and wealth. 
 
 To Angela wealth had no rights except to bring happi- 
 ness to the world. It seemed to bring only misery once 
 people acquired it. Grim sorrow seemed to stalk in the 
 trail of the rich. 
 
 She could not recall one moment of real, unfeigned hap- 
 piness among her family. The only time she could re- 
 member her father smiling or chuckling was at some one 
 else's misfortune, or over some cruel thing he had said 
 himself. 
 
 Her sister's joy over some little social triumph 
 usually at the cost of the humiliation of another. 
 
 Her brother's cheeriness over some smart stroke of 
 business in which another firm was involved to their cost. 
 
 Parasites all! 
 
 The memory of her mother was the only link that 
 bound her to her childhood. The gentle, uncomplain- 
 ing spirit of her: the unselfish abnegation of her: the 
 soul's tragedy of her giving up her life at the altar 
 of duty, at the bidding of a hardened despot. 
 
 All Angela's childhood came back in a brief illuminat- 
 ing flash. The face of her one dear, dead companion 
 her mother glowed before her. How her mother would 
 have cared for and tended, and worshipped a man even 
 as the one lying riddled on that bed of suffering!
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 57 
 
 All the best in Angela was from her mother. All the 
 resolute fighting quality was from her father. 
 
 She would use both now in defence of the wounded 
 man. She would tend him and care for him, and see 
 that no harm came to him. 
 
 She was roused from her self-searching thoughts by 
 the doctor's voice and the touch of his hand. 
 
 " Good-bye for the present, Miss Kingsnorth. Sure 
 it's in good hands I'm lavin' him. But for you he'd be 
 lyin' in the black jail with old Doctor Costello glarin* 
 down at him with his gimlet eyes. I wouldn't wish a 
 dog that. Faith, I've known Costello to open a wound 
 * just to see if it was healthy,' sez he, an' the patient 
 screamin' ' Holy murther ! ' all the while, and old ' Cos * 
 leerin' down at him and sayin': * Does it hurt? Go on 
 now, does it? Well, we'll thry this one and see if that 
 does, too,' and in 'ud go the lance again. I tell je it's 
 the Christian he is ! " He stopped abruptly. " How 
 me tongue runs on. ' Talkative McGinnis ' is what the 
 disrespectful ones call me I'll run in after eight and 
 mebbe I'll bleed him a little and give him something 5 !! 
 make him slape like a top till mornin'. Good-bye to 
 yez, for the present," and the kindly, plump little man 
 hurried out with the faint echo of a tune whistling 
 through his lips. 
 
 Angela sat down at a little Distance from the sick- 
 bed and watched the wounded man. His face was drawn 
 with pain. His eyes were closed. But he was not sleep- 
 ing. His fingers locked and unlocked. His lips oved. 
 He opened his eyes and looked at her. 
 
 " You need not stay here," he said. 
 
 "Would you rather I didn't?" asked Angela, rising. 
 
 " Why did you bring me here ? " 
 
 " To make sure your wounds were attended to."
 
 68 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Your brother is a landlord * Kingsnorth the 
 absentee landlord,' we used to call your father as chil- 
 dren. And I'm in his son's house. I'd betther be in jail 
 than here." 
 
 "You mustn't think that." 
 
 " You've brought me here to humiliate me to hu- 
 miliate me ! " 
 
 " No. To care for you. To protect you." 
 
 "Protect me?" 
 
 " If I can." 
 
 " That's strange." 
 
 " I heard you speak to-day." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " I'm glad of that." 
 
 " So am I." 
 
 " Pity your brother wasn't there too." 
 
 " It was a great pity." 
 
 " Here's one that Dublin Castle and the English gov- 
 ernment can't frighten. I'll serve my time in prison 
 when I'm well enough it's the first time they've caught 
 me and they had to shoot me to do it and when I come 
 out I'll come straight back here and take up the work 
 just where I'm leaving it." 
 
 " You mustn't go to prison." 
 
 " It's the lot of every Irishman to-day who says what 
 he thinks." 
 
 " It mustn't be yours ! It mustn't ! " Angela's voice 
 rose in her distress. She repeated : " It mustn't ! 
 I'll appeal to my brother to stop it." 
 
 " If he's anything like his father it's small heed he'll 
 pay to your pleading. The poor wretches here appealed 
 to old Kingsnorth in famine and sickness not for 
 help, mind ye, just for a little time to pay their rents
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 69 
 
 and the only answer they ever got from him was ' Pay 
 or go'!" 
 
 " I know ! I know ! " Angela replied. " And many a 
 time when I was a child my mother and I cried over 
 it." 
 
 He looked at her curiously. " You and yer mother 
 cried over us? " 
 
 " We did. Indeed we did." 
 
 " They say the heart of England is in its womenkind. 
 But they have nothing to do with her laws." 
 
 " They will have some day." 
 
 "It'll be a long time comin', I'm thinkin'. If they 
 take so long to free a whole country how long do ye 
 suppose it'll take them to free a whole sex and the 
 female one at that?" 
 
 " It will come ! " she said resolutely. 
 
 He looked at her strangely. 
 
 " And you cried over Ireland's sorrows ? " 
 
 " As a child and as a woman," said Angela. 
 
 " And ye've gone about here tryin* to help them too, 
 haven't ye? " 
 
 " I could do very little." 
 
 " Well, the spirit is there : and the heart is there. 
 If they hadn't liked you it's the sorry time maybe your 
 brother would have." 
 
 He paused again, looking at her intently, whilst his 
 fingers clutched the coverlet convulsively as if to stifle 
 a cry of pain. 
 
 " May I ask ye yer name ? " he gasped. 
 
 " Angela," she said, almost in a whisper. 
 
 " Angela," he repeated. " Angela ! It's well named 
 ye are. It's the ministering angel ye've been down here 
 to the people and to me." 
 
 " Don't talk any more now. Rest."
 
 60 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 "Rest, is it? With all the throuble in the wurrld 
 beatin' in me brain and throbbin' in me heart? " 
 
 " Try and sleep until the doctor comes to-night.'* 
 
 He lay back and closed his eyes. 
 
 Angela sat perfectly still. 
 
 In a few minutes he opened them again. There was 
 a new light in his eyes and a smile on his lips. 
 
 " Ye heard me speak, did ye? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Where were ye ? " 
 
 " Above you, behind a bank of trees." 
 
 A playful smile played around his lips as he said: 
 " It was a good speech, wasn't it? " 
 
 " I thought it wonderful," Angela answered. 
 
 " And what were yer feelings listenin' to a man urgin' 
 the people against yer own country ? " 
 
 " I felt I wanted to stand beside you and echo every- 
 thing you said." 
 
 ** Did you? " and his eyes blazed and his voice rose. 
 
 " You spoke as some prophet, speaking in a wilderness 
 of sorrow, trying to bring them comfort." 
 
 He smiled whimsically, as he said, in a weary voice : 
 
 " I tried to bring them comfort and I got them broken 
 heads and buck-shot." 
 
 " It's only through suffering every great cause tri- 
 umphs," said Angela. 
 
 " Then the Irish should triumph some day. They've 
 suffered enough, God knows." 
 
 " They will," said Angela eagerly. " Oh, how I wish 
 I'd been born a man to throw in my lot with the weak ! to 
 bring comfort to sorrow, freedom to the oppressed: joy 
 to wretchedness. That is your mission. How I envy 
 you. I glory in what the future has in store for you. 
 Live for it ! Live for it ! "
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 61 
 
 " I will ! " cried O'Connell. " Some day the yoke will 
 be lifted from us. God grant that mine will be the hand 
 to help do it. God grant I am alive to see it done. 
 That day'll be worth living for to wring recognition 
 from our enemies to to to " he sank back 
 weakly on the pillow, his voice fainting to a whisper. 
 
 Angela brought him some water and helped him up 
 while he drank it. She smoothed back the shining hair 
 red, shot through gold from his forehead. He 
 thanked her with a look. Suddenly he burst into tears. 
 The strain of the day had snapped his self-control at 
 last. The floodgates were opened. He sobbed and 
 sobbed like some tired, hurt child. Angela tried to com- 
 fort him. In a moment she was crying, too. He took 
 her hand and kissed it repeatedly, the tears falling on it 
 as he did so. 
 
 " God bless ye ! God bless ye ! " he cried. 
 
 In that moment of self-revelation their hearts went out 
 to each other. Neither had known happiness nor love, 
 nor faith in mankind. 
 
 In that one enlightening moment of emotion their 
 hearts were laid bare to each other. The great comedy 
 of life between man and woman had begun. 
 
 From that moment their lives were linked together.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ANGELA IN SORE DISTRESS 
 
 THREE days afterwards O'Connell was able to dress 
 and move about his room. He was weak from loss of 
 blood and the confinement that an active man resents. 
 But his brain was clear and vivid. They had been three 
 wonderful days. , 
 
 Angela had made them the most amazing in his life. 
 The memory of those hours spent with her he would 
 carry to his grave. 
 
 She read to him and talked to him and lectured him 
 and comforted him. There were times when he thanked 
 the Power that shapes our ends for having given him 
 this one supreme experience. The cadences of her voice 
 would haunt him through the years to come. 
 
 And in a little while he must leave it all. He must 
 stand his trial under the " Crimes Act " for speaking at 
 a " Proclaimed " meeting. 
 
 Well, whatever his torture he knew he would come out 
 better equipped for the struggle. He had learned some- 
 thing of himself he had so far never dreamed of in his bit- 
 ter struggle with the handicap of his life. He had some- 
 thing to live for now besides the call of his country 
 the call of the heart the cry of beauty and truth 
 and reverence. 
 
 Angela inspired him with all these. In the three days 
 she ministered to him she had opened up a vista he had 
 hitherto never known. And now he had to leave it and 
 face his accusers, and be hectored and jeered at in the 
 
 mockery they called " trials." From the Court-House 
 
 ft
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 63 
 
 he would go to the prison and from thence he would be 
 sent back into the world with the brand of the prison-cell 
 upon him. As the thought of all this passed through 
 his mind, he never wavered. He would face it as he had 
 faced trouble all his life, with body knit for the strug- 
 gle, and his heart strong for the battle. 
 
 And back of it all the yearning that at the end she 
 would be waiting and watching for his return to the con- 
 flict for the great " Cause " to which he had dedicated 
 his life. 
 
 On the morning of the third day Mr. Roche, the resi- 
 dent magistrate, was sent for by Nathaniel Kingsnorth. 
 Mr. Roche found him firm and determined, his back to 
 the fireplace, in which a bright fire was burning, although 
 the month was July. 
 
 " Even the climate of Ireland rebels against the usual 
 laws of nature ! " thought Kingsnorth, as he shivered 
 and glanced at the steady, drenching downpour that had 
 lasted, practically, ever since he had set foot in the 
 wretched country. 
 
 The magistrate came forward and greeted him re- 
 spectfully. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Roche," said Nathaniel, motion- 
 ing him to sit down by the fire. 
 
 " I've sent for you to remove this man O'Connell," 
 added Nathaniel, after a pause. 
 
 " Certainly if he is well enough to be moved." 
 
 : ' The doctor, I understand, says that he is." 
 
 " Very well. I'll drive him down to the Court-House. 
 The Court is sitting now," said Roche, rising. 
 
 Kingsnorth stopped him with a gesture. 
 
 " I want you to understand it was against my express 
 wishes that he was ever brought into this house." 
 
 " Miss Kingsnorth told me, when I had arrested him,
 
 64 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 that you would shelter him and go bail for him, if neces- 
 sary," said Roche, in some surprise. 
 
 " My sister does things under impulse that she often 
 regrets afterwards. This is one. I hope there is no 
 harm done ? " 
 
 " None in the world," replied the magistrate. " On 
 the contrary, the people seem to have a much higher 
 opinion of you, Mr. Kingsnorth, since the occurrence," 
 he added. 
 
 " Their opinion good or bad is a matter of com- 
 plete indifference to me. I am only anxious that the 
 representatives of the government do not suppose that, 
 because, through mistaken ideas of charity, my sister 
 brought this man to my house, / in any way sanction 
 his attitude and his views ! " 
 
 " I should not fear that, Mr. Kingsnorth. You have 
 always been regarded as a most loyal subject, sir," an- 
 swered Roche. 
 
 " I am glad. What sentence is he likely to get ? " 
 
 " It depends largely on his previous record." 
 
 " Will it be settled to-day? " 
 
 " If the jury bring in a verdict. Sometimes they are 
 out all night on these cases." 
 
 "A jury! Good God! A jury of Irishmen to try 
 an Irishman ? " 
 
 " They're being trained gradually, sir." 
 
 " It should never be left to them in a country like this. 
 A judge should have the power of condemning such bare- 
 faced criminals, without trial." 
 
 " He'll be condemned," said Roche confidently. 
 
 " What jury will convict him if they all sympathise 
 with him ? Answer me that ? " 
 
 " That was one difficulty we had to face at first,'* 
 Roche answered. " It was hard, indeed, as you say, to
 
 get an Irishman convicted by an Irish jury especially 
 the agitators. But we've changed that. We've made 
 them see that loyalty to the Throne is better than loy- 
 alty to a Fenian." 
 
 " How have they done it? " 
 
 " A little persuasion and some slight coercion, sir." 
 
 " I am glad of it. It would be a crime against justice 
 for a man who openly breaks the law not to be punished 
 through being tried before a jury of sympathisers." 
 
 " Few of them escape, Mr. Kingsnorth. Dublin Cas- 
 tle found the way. One has to meet craft with craft 
 and opposition with firmness. Under the present gov- 
 ernment we've succeeded wonderfully." Roche smiled 
 pleasantly as he thought of the many convictions he had 
 been instrumental in procuring himself. 
 
 Kingsnorth seemed delighted also. 
 
 " Good," he said. " The condition of things here is 
 a disgrace mind you, I'm not criticising the actions 
 of the officials," he hastened to add. 
 
 The magistrate bowed. 
 
 Kingsnorth went on: 
 
 " But the attitude of the people, their views, their con- 
 duct, is deplorable hopeless. I came here to see what 
 I could do for them. I even thought of spending a cer- 
 tain portion of each year here. But from what I've 
 heard it would be a waste of time and money." 
 
 " It is discouraging, at first sight, but we'll have a 
 better state of affairs presently. We must first stamp 
 out the agitator. He is the most potent handicap. 
 Next are the priests. They are nearest to the people. 
 The real solution of the Irish difficulty would be to make 
 the whole nation Protestants." 
 
 "Could it be done?" 
 
 " It would take time every big movement takes
 
 66 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 time." Roche paused, looked shrewdly at Kingsnorth 
 and asked him: 
 
 "What do you intend doing with this estate?" 
 
 " I am in a quandary. I'm almost determined to put 
 it in the market. Sell it. Be rid of it. It has always 
 been a source of annoyance to our family. However, 
 I'll settle nothing until I return to London. I'll go in a 
 few days much sooner than I intended. This man 
 being brought into my house has annoyed and upset 
 me." 
 
 " I'm sorry," said the magistrate. " Miss Kings- 
 north was so insistent and the fellow seemed in a bad way, 
 otherwise I would never have allowed it." 
 
 A servant came in response to Kingsnorth's ring 
 and was sent with a message to have the man O'Connell 
 ready to accompany the magistrate as quickly as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 Over a glass of sherry and a cigar the two men re- 
 sumed their discussion. 
 
 " I wouldn't decide too hastily about disposing of the 
 land. Although there's always a good deal of discon- 
 tent there is really very little trouble here. In fact, un- 
 til agitators like O'Connell came amongst us we had ev- 
 erything pretty peaceful. We'll dispose of him in short 
 order." 
 
 " Do. Do. Make an example of him." 
 
 " Trust us to do that," said Roche. After a moment 
 he added : " To refer again to selling the estate you 
 would get very little for it. It can't depreciate much 
 more, and there is always the chance it may improve. 
 Some of the people are quite willing to work " 
 
 " Are they? They've not shown any willingness to 
 me." 
 
 " Oh, no. They wouldn't."
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 67 
 
 "What? Not to their landlord?" 
 
 " You'd be the last they'd show it to. They're strange 
 people in many ways until you get to know them. Now 
 there are many natural resources that might be devel- 
 oped if some capital were put into them." 
 
 " My new steward discouraged me about doing that. 
 He said it might be ten years before I got a penny out." 
 
 " Your new steward? " 
 
 " Andrew McPherson." 
 
 "The lawyer?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He's a hard man, sir." 
 
 " The estate needs one." 
 
 " Burke understands the people." 
 
 " He sympathises with them. I don't want a man 
 like that working for me. I want loyalty to my inter- 
 ests. The makeshift policy of Burke during my father's 
 lifetime helped to bring about this pretty state of things. 
 We'll see what firmness will do. New broom. Sweep 
 the place clean. Rid it of slovenly, ungrateful tenants. 
 Clear away the tap-room orators. I have a definite 
 plan in my mind. If I decide not to sell I'll perfect my 
 plan in London and begin operations as soon as I'm sat- 
 isfied it is feasible and can be put upon a proper business 
 basis. There's too much sentiment in Ireland. That's 
 been their ruin. 7 am going to bring a little common 
 sense into play." Kingsnorth walked restlessly around 
 the room as he spoke. He stopped by the windows and 
 beckoned the magistrate. 
 
 "There's your man on the drive. See?" and he 
 pointed to where O'Connell, with a soldier each side of 
 him, was slowly moving down the long avenue. 
 
 The door of the room opened and Angela came in hur- 
 riedly and went straight to where the two men stood.
 
 68 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 There was the catch of a sob in her voice as she spoke 
 to the magistrate. 
 
 " Are you taking that poor wounded man to prison ? " 
 
 " The doctor says he is well enough to be moved," 
 replied Roche. 
 
 " You've not seen the doctor. I've just questioned 
 him. He told me you had not asked his opinion and 
 that if you move him it will be without his sanction." 
 
 Kingsnorth interrupted angrily : " Please don't in- 
 terfere." 
 
 Angela turned on him : " So, it's you who are sending 
 him to prison? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 Angela appealed to the magistrate. 
 
 " Don't do this, I entreat you don't do it." 
 
 " But I have no choice, Miss Kingsnorth." 
 
 " The man can scarcely walk," she pleaded. 
 
 " He will receive every attention, believe me, Miss 
 Kingsnorth," Roche replied. 
 
 Angela faced her brother again. 
 
 " If you let that wounded man go from this house 
 to-day you will regret it to the end of your life." Her 
 face was dead-white; her breath was coming thickly; 
 her eyes were fastened in hatred on her brother's face. 
 
 " Kindly try and control yourself, Angela," Kings- 
 north said sternly. " You should consider my position 
 a little more " 
 
 " Your position? And what is his? You with ev- 
 erything you want in life that man with nothing. He 
 is being hounded to prison for what? Pleading for his 
 country! Is that a crime? He was shot down by sol- 
 diers for what? For showing something we English 
 are always boasting of feeling ourselves and resent any 
 other nation feeling it patriotism ! "
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 69 
 
 " Stop ! " commanded Kingsnorth. 
 
 " If you take that sick, wretched man out of this 
 house it will be a crime " began Angela. 
 
 Kingsnorth stopped her: he turned to the magistrate: 
 " Kindly take the man away." 
 
 Roche moved to the window. 
 
 Angela's heart sank. All her pleading was in vain. 
 Her voice faltered and broke: 
 
 " Very well. Then take him. Sentence him for do- 
 ing something his own countrymen will one day build a 
 monument to him for doing. The moment the prison- 
 door closes behind him a thousand voices will cry 
 ' Shame ' on you and your government, and a thousand 
 new patriots will be enrolled. And when he comes out 
 from his torture he'll carry on the work of hatred and 
 vengeance against his tyrants. He will fight you to the 
 last ditch. You may torture his body, but you cannot 
 break his heart or wither his spirit. They're beyond 
 you. They're they're ," she stopped suddenly, as 
 her voice rose to the breaking-point, and left the 
 room. 
 
 The magistrate went down the drive. In a few mo- 
 ments O'Connell was on his way to the Court-House, a 
 closely guarded prisoner. 
 
 Angela, from her window, watched the men disappear. 
 She buried her face in her hands and moaned as she had 
 not done since her mother left her just a few years be- 
 fore. The girlhood in her was dead. She was a woman. 
 The one great note had come to her, transforming her 
 whole nature love. 
 
 And the man she loved was being carried away to the 
 misery and degradation of a convict. 
 
 Gradually the moans died away. The convulsive 
 heaving of her breast subsided.
 
 70 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 A little later, when her sister Monica came in search 
 of her, she found Angela in a dead faint. 
 By night she was in a fever.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 TWO LETTERS 
 
 Dublin, Ireland, 
 
 Nov. 16th, 18 
 Dear Lady of Mercy: 
 
 I have served my sentence. I am free. At first the hor- 
 rible humiliation of my treatment, of my surroundings, of 
 the depths I had to sink to, burned into me. Then the 
 thought of you sustained me. Your gentle voice: your 
 beauty: your pity: your unbounded faith in me strengthened 
 my soul. All the degradation fell from me. They were 
 but ignoble means to a noble end. I was tortured that 
 others might never know sorrow. I was imprisoned that my 
 countrymen might know liberty. And so the load was 
 lighter. 
 
 The memory of those three wonderful days was so mar- 
 vellous, so vivid, that it shone like a star through the black- 
 ness of those terrible days. 
 
 You seem to have taken hold of my heart and my soul 
 and my life. 
 
 Forgive me for writing this to you, but it seems that you 
 are the only one I've ever known who understands the main- 
 springs of my nature, of my hopes and my ambitions 
 indeed, of my very thoughts. 
 
 To-day I met the leader of my party. He greeted me 
 warmly. At last I have proved myself a worthy follower. 
 They think it best I should leave Ireland for a while. If I 
 take active part at once I shall be arrested again and sent 
 for a longer sentence. 
 
 They have offered me the position of one of the speakers 
 in a campaign in America to raise funds for the " Cause." 
 I must first see the Chief in London. He sent a message, 
 
 71
 
 72 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 writing in the highest terms of my work and expressing a 
 wish to meet me. I wonder if it would be possible to see 
 you in London? 
 
 If I am sent to America it would speed my going to speak 
 to you again. If you feel that I ask too much, do not an- 
 swer this and I will understand. 
 
 Out of the fulness of my heart, from the depths of my 
 soul, and with the whole fervour of my being, I ask you to 
 accept all the gratitude of a heart filled to overflowing. 
 
 God bless and keep you. 
 
 Yours in homage and gratitude, 
 
 FRANK OWEN O'CONNELL. 
 
 London, Nov. 19th, 18 
 My dear Mr. O'Connell: 
 
 I am glad indeed to have your letter and to know you 
 are free again. I have often thought of your misery during 
 all these months and longed to do something to assuage it. 
 It is only when a friend is in need and all avenues of help 
 are closed to him that a woman realises how helpless 
 she is. 
 
 That they have not crushed your spirit does not surprise 
 me. I was as sure of that as I am that the sun is shining 
 to-day. That you do not work actively in Ireland at once 
 is, I am sure, wise. Foolhardiness is not courage. 
 
 In a little while the English government may realise how 
 hopeless it is to try and conquer a people who have liberty 
 in their hearts. Then they will abate the rigour of their 
 unjust laws. 
 
 When that day comes you must return and take up the 
 mission with renewed strength and hope and stimulated by 
 the added experience of bitter suffering. 
 
 I should most certainly like to see you in London. I am 
 staying with a distant connection of the family. We go 
 to the south of France in a few weeks. I have been very 
 ill another reproach to the weakness of woman. I am 
 almost recovered now but far from strong. I have to lie
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 73 
 
 still all day. My only companions are my books and my 
 thoughts. 
 
 Let me know when you expect to arrive in London. Come 
 straight here. 
 
 I have so much to tell you, but the words halt as they come 
 to my pen. 
 
 Looking forward to seeing you, 
 
 In all sincerity, 
 
 ANGELA KINGSNORTH.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 O'CONNELL VISITS ANGELA IN LONDON 
 
 NATHANIEL KINGSNORTH stayed only long enough 
 in Ireland to permit of Angela's recovery. 
 
 He only went into the sick-room once. 
 
 When Angela saw him come into the room she turned 
 her back on him and refused to speak to him. 
 
 For a moment a flush of pity for his young sister 
 gave him a pang at his heart. She looked so frail and 
 worn, so desperately ill. After all she was his sister, 
 and again, had she not been punished? He was willing 
 to forget the foolhardy things she had done and the 
 bitter things she had said. 
 
 Let bygones be bygones. He realised that he had 
 neglected her. He would do so no longer. Far from it. 
 When they returned to London all that would be reme- 
 died. He would take care of her in every possible way. 
 He felt a genuine thrill course through him as he thought 
 of his generosity. 
 
 To all of this Angela made no answer. 
 
 Stung by her silence, he left the room and sent for his 
 other sister. When Monica came he told her that when- 
 ever Angela wished to recognise his magnanimity she 
 could send for him. She would not find him unforgiving. 
 
 To this Angela sent no reply. 
 
 When the fever had passed and she was stronger, ar- 
 rangements were made for the journey to London. 
 
 As Angela walked unsteadily to the carriage, leaning 
 on the arm of the nurse, Nathaniel came forward to as- 
 sist her. She passed him without a word. Nor did 
 
 74
 
 she speak to him once, nor answer any remark of his, 
 during the long journey on the train. 
 
 When they reached London she refused to go to the 
 Kingsnorth house, where her brother lived, but went at 
 once to a distant cousin of her mother's Mrs. Wrex- 
 ford and made her home with her, as she had often 
 done before. She refused to hold any further commu- 
 nication with her brother, despite the ministrations of 
 her sister Monica and Mrs. Wrexford. 
 
 Mrs. Wrexford was a gentle little white-capped 
 widow whose only happiness in life seemed to be in wor- 
 rying over others' misfortunes. She was on the board 
 of various charitable organisations and was a busy 
 helper in the field of mercy. She worshipped Angela, 
 as she had her mother before her. That something seri- 
 ous had occurred between Angela and her brother Mrs. 
 Wrexford realised, but she could find out nothing by 
 questioning Angela. Every time she asked her anything 
 relative to her attitude Angela was silent. 
 
 One day she begged Mrs. Wrexford never to speak of 
 her brother again. Mrs. Wrexford respected her wishes 
 and watched her and nursed her through her convales- 
 cence with a tender solicitude. 
 
 When O'Connell's letter came, Angela showed it to 
 Mrs. Wrexford, together with her reply. 
 
 " Do you mind if I see him here? " Angela asked. 
 
 " What kind of man is he? " 
 
 " The kind that heroes are made of." 
 
 " He writes so strangely may one say unreservedly ? 
 Is he a gentleman? " 
 
 " In the real meaning of the word yes." 
 
 "Of good family?" 
 
 " Not as we estimate goodness. His family were just 
 simple peasants."
 
 76 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Do you think it wise to see him ? " 
 
 " I don't consider the wisdom. I only listen to my 
 heart." 
 
 " Do you mean that you care for him ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " You you love him ? " 
 
 " So much of love as I can give is his." 
 
 "Oh, my dear!" cried Mrs. Wrexford, thoroughly 
 alarmed. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," said Angela, quietly. " Our ways 
 lie wide apart. He is working for the biggest thing in 
 life. His work is his life. I am nothing." 
 
 " But don't you think it would be indiscreet, dear, to 
 have such a man come here? " 
 
 " Why indiscreet? " 
 
 " A man who has been in prison ! " and Mrs. Wrex- 
 ford shuddered at the thought. She had seen and 
 helped so many poor victims of the cruel laws, and the 
 memory of their drawn faces and evil eyes, and coarse 
 speech, flashed across her mind. She could not recon- 
 cile one coming into her little home. 
 
 Angela answered her: 
 
 " Yes, he has been in prison, but the shame was for 
 his persecutors not for him. Still, if you would rath- 
 er I saw him somewhere else " 
 
 " Oh no, my dear child. If you wish it " 
 
 " I do. I just want to see him again, as he writes he 
 does me. I want to hear him speak again. I want to 
 wish him ' God-speed ' on his journey." 
 
 " Very well, Angela," said the old lady. " As you 
 wish." 
 
 A week afterwards O'Connell arrived in London. 
 They met in Mrs. Wrexford's little drawing-room in 
 Mayfair. 
 
 They looked at each other for some moments without
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 77 
 
 speaking. Both noted the fresh lines of suffering in 
 each other's faces. They had been through the long 
 valley of the shadow of sorrow since they had last met. 
 
 But O'Connell thought, as he looked at her, that all 
 the suffering he had gone through passed from him as 
 some hideous dream. It was worth it these months of 
 torture just to be looking at her now. Worth the long 
 black nights the labours in the heat of the day, with 
 life's outcasts around him ; the taunts of his gaolers : 
 worth all the infamy of it just to stand there looking 
 at her. 
 
 She had taken his life in her two little hands. 
 
 He had bathed his soul all these months in the thought 
 of her. He had prayed night and day that he might see 
 her standing near him just as she was then: see the 
 droop of her eye and the silk of her hair and feel the 
 touch of her hand and hear the exquisite tenderness of 
 her voice. 
 
 He stood mute before her. 
 
 She held out her hand and said simply: 
 
 " Thank you for coming." 
 
 " It was good of you to let me," he answered hoarsely. 
 
 " They have not broken your spirit or your courage? " 
 
 " No," he replied tensely ; " they are the stronger." 
 
 " I thought they would be," she said proudly. 
 
 All the while he was looking at the pale face and the 
 thin transparency of her hands. 
 
 " But you have suffered, too. You have been ill. 
 Were you in danger ? " His voice had a catch of 
 fear in it as he asked the, to him, terrible question. 
 
 " No. It was just a fever. It is past. I am a little 
 weak a little tired. That will pass, too." 
 
 " If anything had happened to you or ever should 
 happen ! " He buried his face in his hands and moaned :
 
 78 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Oh, my God ! Oh, my God ! " 
 
 His body shook with the sobs he tried vainly to check. 
 Angela put her hand gently on his shoulder. 
 
 " Don't do that," she whispered. 
 
 He controlled himself with an effort. 
 
 " It will be over in a moment. Just a moment. I 
 am sorry." 
 
 He suddenly knelt at her feet, his head bowed in rev- 
 erence. " God help me," he cried faintly, " I love you ! 
 I love you !" 
 
 She looked down at him, her face transfigured. 
 
 He loved her! 
 
 The beat of her heart spoke it ! " He loves you ! " 
 the throbbing of her brain shouted it : " He loves you ! " 
 the cry of her soul whispered it : " He loves you ! " 
 
 She stretched out her hands to him : 
 
 " My love is yours, just as yours is mine. Let us 
 join our lives and give them to the suffering and the 
 oppressed." 
 
 He looked up at her in wonder. 
 
 " I daren't. Think what I am." 
 
 " You are the best that is in me. We are mates." 
 
 " A peasant ! A beggar ! " 
 
 " You are the noblest of the noble." 
 
 "A convict." 
 
 " Our Saviour was crucified so that His people should 
 be redeemed. You have given the pain of your body 
 so that your people may be free." 
 
 " It wouldn't be fair to you," he pleaded. 
 
 " If you leave me it will be unfair to us both." 
 
 " Oh, my dear one ! My dear one ! " 
 
 He folded her in his arms: 
 
 " I'll give the best of my days to guard you and pro- 
 tect you and bring you happiness." 
 
 " I am happy now," and her voice died to a whisper.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 KINGSNORTH IN DESPAIR 
 
 THREE days afterwards Nathaniel Kingsnorth re- 
 turned late at night from a political banquet. 
 
 It had been a great evening. At last it seemed that 
 life was about to give him what he most wished for. His 
 dearest ambitions were, apparently, about to be realised. 
 
 He had been called on, as a staunch Conservative, to 
 add his quota to the already wonderful array of brilliant 
 perorations of seasoned statesmen and admirable speak- 
 ers. 
 
 Kingsnorth had excelled himself. 
 
 Never had he spoken so powerfully. 
 
 Being one of the only men at the banquet who had 
 enjoyed even a brief glimpse of Ireland, he made the so- 
 lution of the Irish question the main topic of his speech. 
 Speaking lucidly and earnestly, he placed before them his 
 panacea for Irish ills. 
 
 His hearers were enthralled. 
 
 When he sat down the cheering was prolonged. The 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer, an old friend of his late 
 father, spoke most glowingly to him and of him in his 
 hearing. The junior Whip hinted at his contesting a 
 seat at a coming bye-election in the North of Ireland. 
 A man with his knowledge of Ireland as he had shown 
 that night would be invaluable to his party. 
 
 When he left the gathering he was in a condition of 
 ecstasy. Lying back, amid the cushions, during his 
 long drive home, he closed his eyes and pictured the fu- 
 ture. His imagination ran riot. It took wings and 
 
 79
 
 80 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 flew from height to height. He saw himself the leader 
 of a party " The Kingsnorth Party ! " controlling 
 his followers with a hand of iron, and driving them to 
 vote according to his judgment and his decree. 
 
 By the time he reached home he had entered the Cab- 
 inet and was being spoken of as the probable Prime Min- 
 ister. But for the sudden stopping of the horses he 
 might have attained that proud distinction. 
 
 The pleasant warmth of the entrance hall on this chill 
 November night, greeted him as a benignant welcome. 
 He hummed a tune cheerfully as he climbed the stairs, 
 and was smiling genially when he entered the massive 
 study. 
 
 He poured out a liqueur and stood sipping it as he 
 turned over the letters brought by the night's post. 
 One arrested him. It had been delivered by hand, and 
 was marked " Most Urgent." He lit a cigar and tore 
 open the envelope. As he read the letter every vestige 
 of colour left his face. He sank into a chair : the letter 
 slipped from his fingers. All his dreams had vanished 
 in a moment. His house of cards had toppled down. 
 His ambitions were surely and positively destroyed at 
 one stroke. He mechanically picked up the letter and 
 re-read it. Had it been his death-sentence it could not 
 have affected him more cruelly. 
 
 "Dear Nathaniel: 
 
 I scarcely know how to write to you about what has hap- 
 pened. I am afraid I am in some small measure to blame. 
 Ten days ago your sister showed me a letter from a man 
 named O'Connell [Kingsnorth crushed the letter in his 
 hand as he read the hated name the name of the man 
 who had caused him so much discomfort during that unfor- 
 tunate visit to his estate in Ireland. How he blamed himself
 
 THE ROMANCE OF AN IRISH AGITATOR 81 
 
 now for having ever gone there. There was indeed a curse 
 on it for the Kingsnorths. 
 
 He straightened out the crumpled piece of paper and read 
 on]: a man named O'Connell the man she nursed in 
 your house in Ireland after he had been shot by the soldiers. 
 He was coming to England and wished to see her. She 
 asked my permission. I reasoned with her but she was 
 decided. If I should not permit her to see him in my house 
 she would meet him elsewhere. It seemed better the meet- 
 ing should be under my roof, so I consented. I bitterly 
 reproach myself now for not acquainting you with the par- 
 ticulars. You might have succeeded in stopping what has 
 happened. 
 
 Your sister and O'Connell were married this morning by 
 special licence and left this afternoon for Liverpool, en 
 route to America. 
 
 I cannot begin to tell you how much I deplore the un- 
 fortunate affair. It will always be a lasting sorrow to me. 
 I cannot write any more now. My head is aching with the 
 thought of what it will mean to you. Try not to think too 
 hardly of me and believe me 
 
 Always your affectionate cousin, 
 
 MARY CAROLINE WREXFORD. 
 
 Kingsnorth's head sank on to his breast. Every bit 
 of life left him. Everything about his feet. Ashes. 
 The laughing-stock of his friends. 
 
 Were Angela there at that moment he could have 
 killed her. 
 
 The humiliation of it ! The degradation of it ! Mar- 
 ried to that lawless Irish agitator. The man now a 
 member of his family ! A cry of misery broke from him, 
 as he realised that the best years of his life were to come 
 and go fruitlessly. His career was ended. Despair lay 
 heavy on his soul.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 LOOKING FORWARD 
 
 STANDING on the main deck of an Atlantic liner stood 
 Angela and O'Connell. 
 
 They were facing the future together. 
 Their faces were turned to the West. 
 The sun was sinking in a blaze of colour. 
 Their eyes lighted up with the joy of hope. 
 Love was in their hearts.
 
 BOOK II 
 
 t 
 
 THE END OF THE ROMANCE
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ANGELA'S CONFESSION 
 
 A YEAR after the events in the preceding book took 
 place O'Connell and his young wife were living in a small 
 apartment in one of the poorer sections of New York 
 City. 
 
 The first few months in America had been glorious 
 ones for them. Their characters and natures unfolded 
 to each other as some wonderful paintings, each taking 
 its own hues from the adoration of the other. 
 
 In company with a noted Irish organiser O'Connell 
 had spoken in many of the big cities of the United 
 States and was everywhere hailed as a hero and a mar- 
 tyr to English tyranny. 
 
 But he had one ever-present handicap a drawback 
 he had never felt during the years of struggle preceding 
 his marriage. His means were indeed smalL He tried 
 to eke out a little income writing articles for the news- 
 papers and magazines. But the recompense was piti- 
 ful. He could not bear, without a pang, to see Angela 
 in the dingy surroundings that he could barely afford 
 to provide for her. 
 
 On her part Angela took nothing with her but a few 
 jewels her mother had left her, some clothes and very 
 little money. The money soon disappeared and then 
 one by one the keepsakes of her mother were parted with. 
 But they never lost heart. Through it all they were 
 happy. All the poetry of O'Connell's nature came up- 
 permost, leavened, as it was, by the deep faith and ven- 
 eration of his wife. 
 
 85
 
 86 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 This strangely assorted fervent man and gentle woman 
 seemed to have solved the great mystery of happiness 
 between two people. 
 
 But the poverty chafed (yConnell not for himself, 
 but for the frail, loving, uncomplaining woman who had 
 given her life into his care. 
 
 His active brain was continually trying to devise new 
 ways of adding to his meagre income. He multiplied 
 his duties: he worked far into the night when he could 
 find a demand for his articles. But little by little his 
 sources of revenue failed him. 
 
 Some fresh and horrible Agrarian crimes in Ireland, 
 for which the Home Rule party were blamed, for a while 
 turned the tide of sympathy against his party. The 
 order was sent out to discontinue meetings for the pur- 
 pose of collecting funds in America funds the Irish- 
 Americans had been so cheerfully and plentifully bestow- 
 ing on the " Cause." 
 
 O'Connell was recalled to Ireland. His work was 
 highly commended. 
 
 Some day they would send him to the United States 
 again as a Special Pleader. At present he would be of 
 greater value at home. 
 
 He was instructed to apply to the treasurer of the 
 fund and arrangements would be made for his passage 
 back to Ireland. 
 
 He brought the news to Angela with a strange feel- 
 ing of fear and disappointment. He had built so much 
 on making a wonderful career in the great New World 
 and returning home some day to Ireland with the means 
 of relieving some of her misery and with his wife 
 guarded, as she should be, from the possibility of want. 
 And here was he going back to Ireland as poor as he left 
 it though richer immeasurably in the love of Angela.
 
 THE END OF THE ROMANCE 87 
 
 She was sitting perfectly still, her eyes on the floor, 
 when he entered the room. He came in so softly that 
 she did not hear him. He lifted her head and looked 
 into her eyes. He noticed with certainty what had been 
 so far only a vague, ill-defined dread. Her face was 
 very, very pale and transparent. Her eyes were sunken 
 and had a strange brilliancy. She was much slighter 
 and far more ethereal than on that day when they stood 
 on the deck of the ship and turned their faces so hope- 
 fully to the New World. 
 
 He felt a knife-like stab startle through his blood to 
 his heart. His breath caught. 
 
 Angela looked up at him radiantly. 
 
 He kissed her and with mock cheerfulness he said, 
 laughingly : 
 
 " Such news, me darlin' ! Such wondherful news ! " 
 
 " Good news, dear? " 
 
 " The best in the wurrld," and he choked a sob. 
 
 " I knew it would come ! I knew it would. Tell me, 
 dear." 
 
 " We're to go back back to Ireland. See here 
 are the orders," and he showed her the official letter. 
 
 She took it wonderingly and read it. Her hand 
 dropped to her side. Her head drooped into the same 
 position he had found her in. In a moment he was 
 kneeling at her side: 
 
 "What is it, dear?" 
 
 "We can't go, Frank." 
 
 "We can't go? What are ye sayin', dear?" 
 
 " We can't go," she repeated, her body crumpled up 
 limply in the chair. 
 
 " And why not, Angela ? I know I can't take ye back 
 as I brought ye here, dear, if that's what ye mane. The 
 luck's been against me. It's been cruel hard against
 
 88 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 me. An' that thought is tearin' at me heart this min- 
 nit." 
 
 " It isn't that, Frank," she said, faintly. 
 
 "Then what is it?" 
 
 " Oh," she cried, " I hoped it would be so different 
 so very different." 
 
 " What did ye think would be so different, dear? Our 
 going back? Is that what's throublin' ye? " 
 
 " No, Frank. Not that. I don't care how we go 
 back so long as you are with me." He pressed her hand. 
 In a moment she went on : " But we can't go. We 
 can't go. Oh, my dear, my dear, can't you guess? 
 Can't you think? " She looked imploringly into his eyes. 
 
 A new wonder came into his. Could it be true ? Could 
 it? He took both her hands and held them tightly and 
 stood up, towering over her, and trembling violently. 
 
 " Is it is it ? " he cried and stopped as if afraid 
 to complete the question. 
 
 She smiled a wan smile up at him and nodded her head 
 as she answered: 
 
 " The union of our lives is to be complete. Our love is 
 to be rewarded." 
 
 " A child is coming to us ? " he whispered. 
 
 " It is," and her voice was hushed, too. 
 
 " Praise be to God ! Praise be to His Holy Name," 
 and O'Connell clasped his hands in prayer. 
 
 In a little while she went on : " It was the telling you 
 I wanted to be so different. I wanted you, when you 
 heard it, to be free of care happy. And I've waited 
 from day to day hoping for the best that some good 
 fortune would come to you." 
 
 He forced one of his old time, hearty laughs, but there 
 was a hollow ring in it :
 
 THE END OF THE ROMANCE 89 
 
 "What is that yer sayin' at all? Wait for good for- 
 tune? Is there any good fortune like what ye've just 
 told me? Sure I'm ten times the happier man since I 
 came into this room." He put his arm around her and 
 sitting beside her drew her closely to him. " Listen, 
 dear," he said, " listen. We'll go back to the old country. 
 Our child shall be born where we first met. There'll be 
 no danger. No one shall harm us with that little life 
 trembling in the balance the little precious life v If 
 it's a girl-child she'll be the mother of her people ; and if 
 it be a man-child he shall grow up to carry on his father's 
 work. So there there me darlin', we'll go back 
 we'll go back." 
 
 She shook her head feebly. " I can't," she said. 
 
 "Why not, dear?" 
 
 " I didn't want to tell you. But now you make me. 
 Frank, dear, I am ill." 
 
 His heart almost stopped. " 111? Oh, my darlin', 
 what is it? Is it serious? Tell me it isn't serious?" 
 and his voice rang with a note of agony. 
 
 " Oh, no, I don't think so. I saw the doctor to-day. 
 He said I must be careful very careful until until 
 our baby is born." 
 
 " An' ye kept it all to yerself, me brave one, me dear 
 one. All right. We won't go back. We'll stay here. 
 I'll make them find me work. I'm strong. I'm clever 
 too and crafty, Angela. I'll wring it from this hustling 
 city. I'll fight it and beat it. Me darlin' shall have 
 everything she wants. My little mother my precious 
 little mother." 
 
 He cradled her in his strong arms and together they 
 sat for hours and the pall of his poverty fell from them 
 and they pictured the future rose-white and crowned with
 
 90 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 gold a future in which there were three the trinity 
 one and undivided. 
 
 Presently she fell asleep in his arms. He raised his 
 eyes to heaven and prayed God to help him in his hour 
 of striving. He prayed that the little life sleeping so 
 calmly in his arms would be spared him. 
 
 " Oh God ! answer my prayer, I beseech you," he cried. 
 Angela smiled contentedly in her sleep and spoke his 
 name. It seemed to O'Connell as if his prayer had been 
 heard and answered. He gathered the slight form up in 
 his arms and carried her to her room and sat by her until 
 dawn. 
 
 It was the first night for many weeks that she had slept 
 through till morning without starting out of her sleep in 
 pain. This night she slumbered like a child and a smile 
 played on her lips as though her dreams were happy ones.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A COMMUNICATION FROM NATHANIEL KINGSNOB.TH 
 
 THE months that followed were the hardest in O'Con- 
 nell's life. Strive as he would he could find no really 
 remunerative employment. He had no special training. 
 He knew no trade. His pen, though fluent, was not cul- 
 tured and lacked the glow of eloquence he had when 
 speaking. He worked in shops and in factories. He 
 tried to report on newspapers. But his lack of experience 
 everywhere handicapped him. What he contrived to earn 
 during those months of struggle was all too little as the 
 time approached for the great event. 
 
 Angela was now entirely confined to her bed. She 
 seemed to grow more spirit-like every day. A terrible 
 dread haunted O'Connell waking and sleeping. He would 
 start out of some terrible dream at night and listen to her 
 breathing. When he would hurry back at the close of 
 some long, disappointing day his heart would be hammer- 
 ing dully with fear for his loved one. 
 
 As the months wore on his face became lined with care, 
 and the bright gold of his hair dimmed with streaks of 
 silver. But he never faltered or lost courage. He al- 
 ways felt he must win the fight now for existence as he 
 meant to win the greater conflict later for liberty. 
 
 Angela, lying so still, through the long days, could 
 only hope. She felt so helpless. It was woman's weak- 
 ness that brought men like O'Connell to the edge of de- 
 spair. And hers was not merely bodily weakness but the 
 more poignant one of Pride. Was it fair to her hus- 
 band? Was it just? In England she had prosperous 
 
 91
 
 92 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 relatives. They would not let her die in her misery. 
 They could not let her baby come into the world with 
 poverty as its only inheritance. Till now she had been 
 unable to master her feeling of hatred and bitterness for 
 her brother Nathaniel; her intense dislike and contempt 
 for her sister Monica. From the time she left England 
 she had not written to either of them. Could she now? 
 Something decided her. 
 
 One night O'Connell came back disheartened. Try as 
 he would, he could not conceal it. He was getting to the 
 end of his courage. There was insufficient work at the 
 shop he had been working in for several weeks. He had 
 been told he need not come again. 
 
 Angela, lying motionless and white, tried to comfort 
 him and give him heart. 
 
 She made up her mind that night. The next day she 
 wrote to her brother. 
 
 She could not bring herself to express one regret for 
 what she had done or said. On the contrary she made 
 many references to her happiness with the man she loved. 
 She did write of the hardships they were passing through. 
 But they were only temporary. O'Connell was so clever 
 so brilliant he must win in the end. Only just now 
 she was ill. She needed help. She asked no gift a 
 loan merely. They would pay it back when the days 
 of plenty came. She would not ask even this were it not 
 that she was not only ill, but the one great wonderful 
 thing in the world was to be vouchsafed her mother- 
 hood. In the name of her unborn baby she begged him 
 to send an immediate response. 
 
 She asked a neighbour to post the letter so that O'Con- 
 nell would not know of her sacrifice. She waited anx- 
 iously for a reply. 
 
 Some considerable time afterwards on the eve of her
 
 THE END OF THE ROMANCE 93 
 
 travail and when things with O'Connell were at their 
 worst the answer came by cable. 
 
 She was alone when it came. 
 
 Her heart beat furiously as she opened it. Even if he 
 only sent a little it would be so welcome now when they 
 were almost at the end. If he had been generous how 
 wonderful it would be for her to help the man to whom 
 nothing was too much to give her. The fact that her 
 brother had cabled strengthened the belief that he had 
 hastened to come to her rescue. 
 
 She opened the cable and read it. Then she fell back 
 on the pillow with a low, faint moan. 
 
 When, hours later, O'Connell returned from a vain 
 search for work he found her senseless, with the cable In 
 her fingers. He tried to recover her without success. 
 He sent a neighbour for a doctor. As he watched the 
 worn, patient face, his heart full to bursting, the thought 
 flashed through him what could have happened to 
 cause this collapse? He became conscious of the cable 
 he had found tightly clasped in her hand. He picked it 
 up and read it. It was very brief: 
 
 You have made your bed lie in it. 
 
 NATHANIEL KINGSNORTH. 
 
 was all it said.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE BIRTH OF PEG 
 
 TOWARD morning the doctor placed a little mite of 
 humanity in O'Connell's arms. He looked down at it in a 
 stupor. It had really come to pass. Their child 
 [Angela's and his! A little baby-girl. The tiny wail 
 from this child, born of love and in sorrow, seemed to 
 waken his dull senses. He pressed the mite to him as the 
 hot tears flowed down his cheeks. A woman in one of the 
 adjoining flats who had kindly offered to help took the 
 child away from him. The doctor led him to the bedside. 
 He looked down at his loved one. A glaze was over 
 Angela's eyes as she looked up at him. She tried to 
 smile. All her suffering was forgotten. She knew only 
 pride and love. She was at peace. She raised her hand, 
 thin and transparent now, to O'Connell. He pressed it 
 to his lips. 
 
 She whispered: 
 
 " My baby. Bring me my baby." 
 
 He took it from the woman and placed it in Angela's 
 weak arms. She kissed it again and again. The child 
 wailed pitifully. The effort had been too much for 
 Angela's failing strength. Consciousness left her. 
 
 Just before sunrise she woke. O'Connell was sitting 
 beside her. He had never moved. The infant was sleep- 
 ing on some blankets on the couch the woman watching 
 her. 
 
 Angela motioned her husband to bend near to her. 
 
 94
 
 THE END OF THE ROMANCE 95 
 
 Her eyes shone with unearthly brightness. He put his 
 ear near her lips. Her voice was very, very faint. 
 
 " Take care of our baby Frank. I'm 
 I'm leaving you. God help you and keep 
 you and bless you for your love of me." 
 She paused to take breath then she whispered her 
 leave-taking. The words never left O'Connell's memory 
 for all the days of all the years that followed. 
 
 " My last words dear the last I'll 
 ever speak to you. I I love you 
 with all my heart and my soul husband! 
 Good good-bye Frank." She slipped from his arms 
 and lay, lips parted, eyes open, body still. 
 
 The struggle was over. She had gone where there are 
 no petty treacheries, no mean brutalities where all 
 stand alike before the Throne to render an account of 
 their stewardship. 
 
 The brave, gentle little heart was stilled forever.
 
 BOOK HI 
 
 "t 
 
 PEG
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PEG'S CHILDHOOD 
 
 AND now Peg appears for the first time, and brings her 
 radiant presence, her roguish smile, her big, frank, soul- 
 ful, blue eyes, her dazzling red hair, her direct, honest 
 and outspoken truth: her love of all that is clean and 
 pure and beautiful Peg enters our pages and turns 
 what was a history of romance and drama into a Comedy, 
 of Youth. 
 
 Peg pure as a mountain lily, sweet as a fragrant 
 rose, haunting as an old melody Peg o' our Hearts 
 comes into our story, even as she entered her father's 
 life, as the Saviour of these pages, even as she was the 
 means of saving O'Connell. 
 
 And she did save her father. 
 
 It was the presence and the thought of the little mother- 
 less baby that kept O'Connell's hand from destroying 
 himself when his reason almost left him after his wife's 
 death. The memories of the days immediately following 
 the passing of Angela are too painful to dwell upon. 
 
 They are past. They are sacred in O'Connell's heart. 
 They will be to the historian. 
 
 Thanks to some kindly Irishmen who heard of O'Con- 
 nell's plight he borrowed enough money to bury his dead 
 wife and place a tablet to her memory. 
 
 He sent a message to Kingsnorth telling him of his 
 sister's death. He neither expected nor did he receive 
 an answer. 
 
 As soon as it was possible he returned to Ireland ano! 
 
 threw himself once again heart and soul into working 
 
 99
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 for the " Cause." He realised his only hope of keeping 
 his balance was to work. He went back to the little village 
 he was born in and it was Father Cahill's hands that 
 poured the baptismal waters on O'Connell's and Angela's 
 baby and it was Father Cahill's voice that read the bap- 
 tismal service. 
 
 She was christened Margaret. 
 
 Angela, one night, when it was nearing her time, begged 
 him if it were a girl to christen her Margaret after her 
 mother, since all the best in Angela came from her 
 mother. 
 
 O'Connell would have liked to have named the mite 
 " Angela." But his dead wife's wishes were paramount. 
 So Margaret the baby was christened. It was too dis- 
 tinguished a name and too long for such a little bundle 
 of pink and white humanity. It did not seem to fit her. 
 So, " Peg " she was named and " Peg " she remained for 
 the rest of her life. 
 
 When she was old enough to go with him O'Connell 
 took Peg everywhere. He seemed to bear a charmed life 
 when she was with him. 
 
 Peg's earliest memories are of the village where she was 
 baptised and where her father was born. Her little will 
 was law to everyone who came in contact with her. She 
 ruled her little court with a hand of iron. 
 
 Many were the dire predictions of the rod O'Connell 
 was making for his own back in giving the little mite her 
 own way in everything. 
 
 But O'Connell's only happiness was in Peg and he 
 neither heard nor cared about any criticism that may 
 have been levelled at him for his fond, and, perhaps, 
 foolish care of her. 
 
 Looming large in Peg's memories in after life are her 
 father showing her St. Kernan's Hill, and pointing out
 
 PEG 101 
 
 the mount on which he stood and spoke that day, whilst 
 her mother, hidden by that dense mass of trees, saw every 
 movement and heard every word. From there he took her 
 to " The Gap " and pointed out the windows of the room 
 in which he was nursed for those three blessed days. 
 
 It eased his mind to talk to the child of Angela and 
 always he pictured her as the poet writes in verse of the 
 passion of his life: as the painter puts on canvas the 
 features that make life worth the living for him. 
 
 Those memories were very clear in little Peg's mind. 
 
 Then somehow her childish thoughts all seemed to run 
 to Home Rule to love of Ireland and hatred of Eng- 
 land to thinking all that was good of Irishmen and all 
 that was bad of Englishmen. 
 
 "Why do yez hate the English so much, father? " she 
 asked O'Connell once, looking up at him with a puzzled 
 look in her big blue eyes, and the most adorable brogue 
 coming fresh from her tongue. 
 
 " Why do yez hate them? " she repeated. 
 
 " I've good cause to, Peg me darlin'," he answered, and 
 a deep frown gathered on his brow. 
 
 " Sure wasn't me mother English? " Peg asked. 
 
 " She was." 
 
 " Then why do yez hate the English? " 
 
 " It 'ud take a long time to tell ye that, Peggy. Some 
 day I will. There's many a reason why the Irish hate 
 the English, and many a good reason too. But there's 
 one why you and I should hate them, and hate them with 
 all the bittherness that's in us." 
 
 " And what is it ? " said Peg curiously. 
 
 u 111 tell ye. When yer mother and I were almost 
 starrin', and she lyin' on a bed of sickness, she wrote to an 
 Englishman and asked him to assist her. An' this is the 
 reply she got : * Ye've made yer bed ; lie in it." That
 
 102 PEG MY HEART 
 
 was the answer she got the day before you were born, and 
 she died givin' ye life. And by the same token the man 
 that wrote that shameful message to a dyin' woman was 
 her own brother." 
 
 " Her own brother, yer tellin* me? " asked Peg wrath- 
 fully. 
 
 " I am, Peg. Her own brother, I'm tellin' ye." 
 
 " It's bad luck that man'll have all his life ! " said Peg 
 fiercely. " To write me mother that and she dyin' ! 
 Faith I'd like to see him some day just meet him 
 and tell him " she stopped, her little fingers clenched 
 into a miniature fist. The hot colour was in her cheeks 
 and she stamped her small foot in actual rage. " I'd 
 like to meet him some day," she muttered. 
 
 " I hope ye never will, Peg," said her father solemnly. 
 " And," he added, " don't let us ever talk of it again, me 
 darlin'!" 
 
 And she never did. But she often thought of the inci- 
 dent and the memory of that brutal message was stamped 
 vividly on her little brain. 
 
 The greatest excitements of her young life were going 
 with her father to hear him speak. She made the most 
 extraordinary collection of scraps of the speeches she had 
 heard her father make for Home Rule. While he would 
 be speaking she would" listen intently, her lips apart, her 
 little body tense with excitement, her little heart beating 
 like a trip-hammer. 
 
 When they applauded him she would laugh gleefully 
 and clap her little hands together: if they interrupted 
 him she would turn savagely upon them. She became 
 known all over the countryside as " O'Connell's Peg." 
 
 " Sure O'Connell's not the same man at all, at all, since 
 he came back with that little bit of a red-headed child," 
 said a man to Father Cahill one day.
 
 PEG 103 
 
 i 
 
 " God is good, Flaherty," replied the priest. " He 
 sent O'Connell a baby to take him up nearer to Himself. 
 Ye're right. He'-s not the same man. It's the good 
 Catholic he is again as he was as a boy. An' it's I'm 
 thankful for that same." 
 
 Father Cahill smiled happily. He was much older, 
 but though the figure was a little bent and the hair 
 thinner, and the remainder of it snow-white, the same 
 sturdy spirit was in the old man. 
 
 " They're like boy and girl together, that's what they 
 are," said Flaherty with a tone of regret in his voice. 
 " He seems as much of a child as she is when he's with 
 her," he added. 
 
 " Every good man has somethin' of the child left in 
 him, me son. O'Connell was goin' in the way of darkness 
 until a woman's hand guided him and gave him that little 
 baby to hold on to his heart strings." 
 
 " Sure Peg's the light o' his life, that's what she is,'* 
 grumbled Flaherty. " It's small chance we ever have of 
 broken heads an' soldiers firm' on us, an' all, through 
 O'Connell, since that child's laid hands on him." Fla- 
 herty sighed. " Them was grand days and all," he said. 
 
 " They were wicked days, Flaherty," said the priest 
 severely ; " and it's surprised I am that a God-fearin* 
 man like yerself should wish them back." 
 
 " There are times when I do, Father, the Lord forgive 
 me. A fight lets the bad blood out of ye. Sure it was a 
 pike or a gun O'Connell 'ud shouldher in the ould days, 
 and no one to say him nay, and we all following him like 
 the Colonel of a regiment an' proud to do it, too. But 
 now it's only the soft words we get from him." 
 
 " A child's hand shall guide," said the priest. Then 
 he added : 
 
 " It has guided him. Whenever ye get them wicked
 
 104 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 thoughts about shouldherin' a gun and flashin' a pike, 
 come round to confession, Flaherty, and it's the good 
 penance I'll give ye to dhrive the devil's temptation away 
 from ye." 
 
 " I will that* Father Cahill," said Flaherty, hurriedly, 
 and the men went their different ways. 
 
 O'Connell did everything for Peg since she was an in- 
 fant. His were the only hands to tend the little body, 
 to wash her and dress her, and tie up her little shoe-laces, 
 and sit beside her in her childish sicknesses. He taught 
 her to read and to write and to pray. As she grew 
 bigger he taught her the little he knew of music and the 
 great deal he knew of poetry. He instilled a love of 
 verse into her little mind. He never tired of reading her 
 Tom Moore and teaching her his melodies. He would 
 make her learn them and she would stand up solemnly and 
 recite or sing them, her quaint little brogue giving them 
 an added music. O'Connell and Peg were inseparable. 
 
 One wonderful year came to Peg when she was about 
 fourteen. 
 
 O'Connell had become recognised as a masterly expo- 
 nent of the particular form of Land Act that would most 
 benefit Ireland. 
 
 It was proposed that he should lecture right through 
 the country, wherever they would let him, and awaken 
 amongst the more violent Irish, the recognition that legis- 
 lative means were surer of securing the end in view, than 
 the more violent ones of fifteen years before. 
 
 The brutality of the Coercion Act had been moderated 
 and already the agricultural and dairy produce of the 
 country had developed so remarkably that the terrible 
 misery of by-gone days, when the potato-crop would fail, 
 had been practically eliminated, or at least in many dis- 
 tricts mitigated.
 
 PEG 105 
 
 O'Connell accepted the proposition. 
 
 Through the country he went speaking in every village 
 he passed through, and sometimes giving several lectures 
 in the big cities. His mode of travelling was in a cart. 
 He would speak from the back of it, Peg sitting at his 
 feet, now watching him, again looking eagerly and in- 
 tently at the strange faces before her. 
 
 They were marvellous days, travelling, sometimes, 
 under a golden sun through the glistening fields : or push- 
 ing on at night under a great green-and-white moon. 
 
 Peg would sit beside her father as he drove and he 
 would tell her little folk-stories, or sing wild snatches of 
 songs of the days of the Rebellion ; or quote lines ringing 
 with the great Irish confidence in the triumph of Justice : 
 
 " Lo the path we tread 
 
 By our martyred dead 
 Has been trodden 'mid bane and blessing, 
 
 But unconquered still 
 
 Is the steadfast will 
 And the faith they died confessing." 
 
 Or at night he would croon from Moore : 
 
 ' ' When the drowsy world is dreaming, love, 
 Then awake the heaven^ look bright, my dear, 
 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, 
 
 And the best of all ways 
 
 To lengthen our days 
 Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear ! " 
 
 When storms would come she would cower down in the 
 bottom of the cart and cry and pray. Storms terrified 
 her. It seemed as if all the anger of the heavens were 
 levelled at her. She would cry and moan pitifully whilst
 
 106 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 O'Connell would try to soothe her and tell her that neither 
 God nor man would harm her no one would touch his 
 " Peg o' my Heart." 
 
 After one of those scenes he would sit and brood. 
 Angela had always been afraid of storms, and in the 
 child's terror his beloved wife would rise up before him 
 and the big tears would drop silently down his cheeks. 
 
 Peg crept out once when the storm had cleared and the 
 sky was bright with stars. Her father did not hear her. 
 His thoughts were bridging over the years and once more 
 Angela was beside him. 
 
 Peg touched him timidly and peered up into his face. 
 She thought his cheeks were wet. But that could not be. 
 She had never seen her father cry. 
 
 " What are ye thinkin' about, father ? " she whispered. 
 His voice broke. He did not want her to see his emotion. 
 He answered with a half-laugh, half-sob: 
 
 " Thinkin' about, is it? It's ashamed I am of ye to be 
 frightened by a few little flashes of lightnin' and the 
 beautiful, grand thundher that always kapes it company. 
 It's ashamed I am. of ye that's what I am ! " He spoke 
 almost roughly to hide his emotion and he furtively wiped 
 the tears from his face so that she should not see them. 
 
 " It's not the lightnin' I'm afraid of, father," said Peg 
 solemnly. " It's the thundher. It shrivels me up, that's 
 what it does." 
 
 "The thundher, is it? Sure that's only the bluff the 
 storm puts up when the rale harm is done by the light- 
 nin's flash. There is no harm in the thundher at all. 
 And remember, after all, it's the will of God." 
 
 Peg thought a moment: 
 
 " It always sounds just as if He were lookin' down at 
 us and firm' off cannons at us because He's angry with 
 us."
 
 PEG 107 
 
 O'Connell said nothing. Presently he felt her small 
 hand creep into his : 
 
 " Father," said Peg ; " are yez ralely ashamed of me 
 when I'm frightened like that? " 
 
 O'Connell was afraid to unbend lest he broke down 
 altogether. So he continued in a voice of mock se- 
 verity : 
 
 ** I am that when ye cry and moan about what God 
 has been good enough to send us." 
 
 " Is it a coward I am for bein' afraid, father? " said 
 Peg, her lips quivering. 
 
 " That's what ye are, Peg," replied O'Gonnell with 
 Spartan severity. 
 
 " Then I'll never be one again, father ! Never again," 
 and her eyes filled up. 
 
 He suddenly took her in his arms and pressed her to 
 him and rocked her as though she were still a baby, and 
 his voice trembled and was full of pity as he said: 
 
 " Ye can't help it, acushla. Ye can't help it. Ye're 
 not a coward, my own brave little Peg. It's yer mother 
 in ye. She could never bear a thundher-storm without 
 fear, and she was the bravest woman that ever lived. 
 Bad luck to me for sayin' a cross word to ye." 
 
 Suddenly poor little Peg burst out crying and buried 
 her face on her father's breast and sobbed and sobbed as 
 though her heart would break. 
 
 "Ssh! Ssh! There there, me idarlin'," cried 
 O'Connell, now thoroughly alarmed at the depth of feel- 
 ing the child had loosened from her pent-up emotion, " ye 
 mustn't cry ye mustn't. See it's laughin' I am ! 
 Laughin', that's what I'm doin'." 
 
 And he laughed loudly while his heart ached, and he 
 told her stories until she forgot her tears and laughed 
 too.
 
 108 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 i 
 And that night as he watched her fall off to sleep he 
 
 knelt down in the straw and prayed: 
 
 " Oh, kape her always like she is now always just a 
 sweet, innocent, pure little creature. Kape the mother 
 in her always, dear Lord, so that she may grow in Your 
 likeness and join my poor, dear Angela in the end. 
 Amen." 
 
 Those were indeed glorious days for Peg. She never 
 forgot them in after life. 
 
 Waking in the freshness of the early morning, making 
 their frugal breakfast, feeding the faithful old horse and 
 then starting off through the emerald green for another 
 new and wonderful day, to spread the light of the 
 " Cause." 
 
 O'Connell had changed very much since the days of St. 
 Kernan's Hill. As was foreshadowed earlier, he no 
 longer urged violence. He had come under the influence 
 of the more temperate men of the party, and was content 
 to win by legislative means, what Ireland had failed to 
 accomplish wholly by conflict. Although no one recog- 
 nised more thoroughly than O'Connell what a large part 
 the determined attitude of the Irish party, in resisting the 
 English laws, depriving them of the right of free speech, 
 and of meeting to spread light amongst the ignorant, had 
 played in wringing some measure of recognition and of 
 tolerance from the bitter narrowness of the English min- 
 isters. 
 
 What changed O'Connell more particularly was the 
 action of a band of so-called " Patriots " who operated 
 in many parts of Ireland maiming cattle, ruining 
 crops, injuring peaceable farmers, who did not do their 
 bidding and shooting at landlords and prominent people 
 connected with the government.
 
 PEG 109 
 
 Crime is not a means to honourable victory and O'Con- 
 nell was ashamed of the miscreants who blackened the fair 
 name of his country by their ruthless and despicable 
 methods. 
 
 He avoided the possibility of imprisonment again for 
 the sake of Peg. What would befall her if he were taken 
 from her? 
 
 The continual thought that preyed upon him was that 
 he would have nothing to leave her when his call came. 
 Do what he would he could make but little money and 
 when he had a small surplus he would spend it on Peg 
 a shawl to keep her warm, or a ribbon to give a gleam of 
 colour to the drab little clothes. 
 
 On great occasions he would buy her a new dress, and 
 then Peg was the proudest little child in the whole of Ire- 
 land. 
 
 Every year, on the anniversary of her mother's death, 
 O'Connell had a Mass said for the repose of Angela's 
 soul, and he would kneel beside Peg through the service, 
 and be silent for the rest of the day. One year he had 
 candles, blessed by the Archbishop, lit on our Lady's altar 
 and he stayed long after the service was over. He sent 
 Peg home. But, although Peg obeyed him, partially, by 
 leaving the church, she kept watch outside until her 
 father came out. He was wiping his eyes as he saw her. 
 He pretended to be very angry. 
 
 " Didn't I tell ye to go home? " 
 
 " Ye did, father." 
 
 " Then why didn't ye obey me ? " 
 
 " Sure an' what would I be doin' at home, all alone, 
 without you? Don't be cross with me, father." 
 
 He took her hand and they walked home in silence. 
 He had been crying and Peg could not understand it. 
 She had never seen him do such a thing before and it
 
 110 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 worried her. It did not seem right that a man should 
 cry. It seemed a weakness and that her father, of 
 all men, should do it he who was not afraid of anything 
 nor anyone it was wholly unaccountable to her. 
 
 When they reached home Peg busied herself about her 
 father, trying to make him comfortable, furtively watch- 
 ing him all the while. When she had put him in an easy 
 chair, and brought him his slippers, and built up the fire, 
 she sat down on a little stool by his side. After a long 
 silence she stroked the back of his hand and then gave 
 him a little tug. He looked down at her. 
 
 "What is it, Peg?" 
 
 " Was my mother very beautiful, father ? " 
 
 " The most beautiful woman that ever lived in all the 
 wurrld, Peg." 
 
 " She looks beautiful in the picture ye have of her." 
 
 From the inside pocket of his coat he drew out a little 
 beautifully-painted miniature. The frame had long 
 since been worn and frayed. O'Connell looked at the face 
 and his eyes shone: 
 
 " The man that painted it couldn't put the soul of her 
 into it. That he couldn't. Not the soul of her." 
 
 "Am I like her, at all, father? " asked Peg wistfully. 
 
 " Sometimes ye are, dear : very like." 
 
 After a little pause Peg said : 
 
 " Ye loved her very much, father, didn't ye? " 
 
 He nodded. " I loved her with all the heart of me and 
 all the strength of me." 
 
 Peg sat quiet for some minutes : then she asked him a 
 question very quietly and hung in suspense on his an- 
 swer: 
 
 " Do ye love me as much as ye loved her, father ? " 
 
 " It's different, Peg quite, quite different." 
 
 "Why is it?" She waited.
 
 PEG 111 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 " Sure, love is love whether ye feel it for a woman or a 
 child," she persisted. 
 
 O'Connell remained silent. 
 
 "Did ye love her betther than ye love me, father?" 
 Her soul was in her great blue eyes as she waited ex- 
 citedly for the answer to that, to her, momentous ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Why do ye ask me that?" said O'Connell. 
 
 " Because I always feel a little pharp pain right 
 through my heart whenever ye talk about me mother. 
 Ye see, father, I've thought all these years that 7 was the 
 one ye really loved " 
 
 " Ye're the only one I have in the wurrld, Peg." 
 
 " And ye don't love her memory betther than ye do 
 me?" 
 
 O'Connell put both of his arms around her. 
 
 " Yer mother is with the Saints, Peg, and here are you 
 by me side. Sure there's room in me heart for the 
 memory of her and the love of you." 
 
 She breathed a little sigh of satisfaction and nestled 
 onto her father's shoulder. The little fit of childish jeal- 
 ousy of her dead mother's place in her father's heart 
 passed. 
 
 She wanted no one to share her father's affection with 
 her. She gave him all of hers. She needed all of his. 
 
 When Peg was eighteen years old and they were living 
 in Dublin, O'Connell was offered quite a good position in 
 New York. It appealed to him. The additional money 
 would make things easier for Peg. She was almost a 
 woman now, and he wanted her to get the finishing touches 
 of education that would prepare her for a position in the 
 world if she met the man she felt she could marry.
 
 112 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Whenever he would speak of marriage Peg would laugh 
 scornfully : 
 
 " Who would I be afther marryin' I'd like to know? 
 Where in the wurrld would I find a man like you? " 
 
 And no coaxing would make her carry on the discus- 
 sion or consider its possibility. 
 
 It still harassed him to think he had so little to leave 
 her if anything happened to him. The offer to go to 
 America seemed providential. Her mother was buried 
 there. He would take Peg to her grave. 
 
 Peg grew very thoughtful at the idea of leaving Ire- 
 land. All her little likes and dislikes her impulsive 
 affections and hot hatreds were all bound up in that 
 country. She dreaded the prospect of meeting a number 
 of new people. 
 
 Still it was for her father's good, so she turned a brave 
 face to it and said: 
 
 " Sure it is the finest thing in the wurrld for both of 
 us." 
 
 But the night before they left Ireland she sat by the 
 little window in her bed-room until daylight looking back 
 through all the years of her short life. 
 
 It seemed as if she were cutting off all that beautiful 
 golden period. She would never again know the free, 
 careless, happy-go-lucky, living-from-day-to-day exist- 
 ence, that she had loved so much. 
 
 It was a pale, wistful, tired little Peg that joined her 
 father at breakfast next morning. 
 
 His heart was heavy, too. But he laughed and joked 
 and sang and said how glad they ought to be going to 
 that wonderful new country, and by the way the country 
 Peg was born in, too! And then he laughed again and 
 said how fine she looked and how well he felt and that it 
 seemed as if it were God's hand in it all.
 
 PEG 113 
 
 And Peg pretended to cheer up, and they acted their 
 parts right to the end until the last line of land dis- 
 appeared and they were headed for America. Then tney 
 separated and went to their h'ttle cabins to think of all 
 that had been. And every day they kept up the little 
 deception with each other until they reached America. 
 
 They were cheerless days at first for O'Connell. 
 Everything reminded him of his first landing twenty 
 years before with his young wife both so full of hope, 
 with the future stretching out like some wonderful pano- 
 rama before them. He returns twenty years older to 
 begin the fight again this time for his daughter. 
 
 His wife was buried at a little Catholic cemetery a 
 few miles outside New York City. There he took Peg 
 one day and they put flowers on the h'ttle mound of earth 
 and knelt awhile in prayer. Beneath that earth lay not 
 only his wife's remains, but O'Connell's early hopes and 
 ambitions were buried with her. 
 
 Neither spoke either going to or returning from the 
 cemetery. O'Connell's heart was too full. Peg knew 
 what was passing through his mind and sat with her 
 hands folded in her lap silent. But her little brain 
 was busy thinking back. 
 
 Peg had much to think of during the early days follow- 
 ing her arrival in New York. At first the city awed her 
 with its huge buildings and ceaseless whirl of activity and 
 noise. She longed to be back in her own little green, 
 beautiful country. 
 
 O'Connell was away during those first days until late at 
 night. 
 
 He found a school for Peg. She did not want to go to 
 it, but just to please her father she agreed. She lasted 
 in it just one week. They laughed at her brogue and 
 teased and tormented her for her absolute lack of knowl-
 
 114. PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 edge. Peg put up with that just as long as she could. 
 Then one day she opened out on them and astonished 
 them. They could not have been more amazed had a 
 bomb exploded in their midst. The little, timid-looking, 
 open-eyed, Titian-haired girl was a veritable virago. She 
 attacked and belittled, and mimicked and berated them. 
 They had talked of her brogue! They should listen to 
 their own nasal utterances, that sounded as if they were 
 speaking with their noses and not with their tongues ! 
 Even the teacher did not go unscathed. She came in for 
 an onslaught, too. That closed Peg's career as a New 
 York student. 
 
 Her father arranged his work so that he could be 
 with her at certain periods of the day, and outlined her 
 studies from his own slender stock of knowledge. He 
 even hired a little piano for her and followed up what he 
 had begun years before in Ireland imbuing her with a 
 thorough acquaintance with Moore and his delightful 
 melodies. 
 
 One wonderful day they had an addition to their small 
 family. A little, wiry-haired, scrubby, melancholy Irish 
 terrier followed O'Connell for miles. He tried to drive 
 him away. The dog would turn and run for a few 
 seconds and the moment O'Connell would take his eyes off 
 him he would run along and catch him up and wag his 
 over-long tail and look up at O'Connell with his sad eyes. 
 The dog followed him all the way home and when O'Con- 
 nell opened the door he ran in. O'Connell had not the 
 heart to turn him out, so he poured out some milk and 
 broke up some dry biscuits for him and then played with 
 him until Peg came home. She liked the little dog at once 
 and then and there O'Connell adopted him and gave him 
 to Peg. He said the dog's face had a look of Michael
 
 PEG 115 
 
 Quinlan, the Fenian. So " Michael " he was named and 
 he took his place in the little home. He became Peg's 
 boon companion. They romped together like children, 
 and they talked to each other and understood each other. 
 '* Michael " had an eloquent tail, an expressive bark and 
 a pair of eyes that told more than speech. 
 
 The days flowed quietly on, O'Connell apparently satis- 
 fied with his lot. But to Peg's sharp eye all was not well 
 with him. There was a settled melancholy about him 
 whenever she surprised him thinking alone. She thought 
 he was fretting for Ireland and their happy days to- 
 gether and so said nothing. 
 
 He was really worrying over Peg's future. He had 
 such a small amount of money put by, and working on a 
 salary it would be long before he could save enough to 
 leave Peg sufficient to carry her on for a while if "any- 
 thing happened." There was always that " if anything 
 happened ! " running in his mind. 
 
 One day the chance of solving the whole difficulty of 
 Peg's future was placed in his hands. But the means 
 were so distasteful to him that he hesitated about even 
 telling her. 
 
 He came in unexpectedly in the early afternoon of that 
 iiay and found a letter waiting for him with an English 
 postmark. Peg had eyed it curiously off and on for 
 hours. She had turned it over and over in her fingers 
 and looked at the curious, angular writing, and felt a 
 little cold shiver run up and down her as she found her- 
 self wondering who could be writing to her father from 
 England. 
 
 When O'Connell walked in and picked the letter up 
 she watched him excitedly. She felt, for some strange 
 reason, that they were going to reach a crisis in their
 
 116 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 lives when the seal was broken and the contents disclosed. 
 Superstition was strong in Peg, and all that day she had 
 been nervous without reason, and excited without cause. 
 
 O'Connell read the letter through twice slowly the 
 first time, quickly the second. A look of bewilderment 
 came across his face as he sat down and stared at the 
 letter in his hand. 
 
 " Who is it from, at all ? " asked Peg very quietly, 
 though she was trembling all through her body. 
 
 Her father said nothing. 
 
 Presently he read it through again. 
 
 " It's from England, father, isn't it ? " queried Peg, 
 pale as a ghost. 
 
 " Yes, Peg," answered her father and his voice sounded 
 hollow and spiritless. 
 
 " I didn't know ye had friends in England? " said Peg, 
 eyeing the letter. 
 
 " I haven't," replied her father. 
 
 " Then who is it from ? " insisted Peg, now all im- 
 patience and with a strange fear tugging at her heart. 
 
 O'Connell looked up at her as she stood there staring 
 down at him, her big eyes wide open and her lips parted. 
 He took both of her hands in one of his and held them all 
 crushed together for what seemed to Peg to be a long, 
 long while. She hardly breathed. She knew something 
 was going to happen to them both. 
 
 At last O'Connell spoke and his voice trembled and 
 broke : 
 
 " Peg, do ye remember one mornin', years and years 
 ago, when I wa* goin* to speak in County Mayo, an' we 
 started in the cart at dawn, an' we thravelled for miles and 
 miles an' we came to a great big crossing where the roads 
 divided an' there was no sign post an' we asked each other
 
 PEG 117 
 
 which one we should take an' we couldn't make up our 
 minds an' I left it to you an' ye picked a road an' it 
 brought us out safe and thrue at the spot we were making 
 for? Do you remember it, Peg? " 
 
 " Faith I do, father. I remember it well. Ye called 
 me yer little guide and said ye'd follow my road the rest 
 of yer life. An' it's many's the laugh we had when I'd 
 take ye wrong sometimes afterwards." She paused. 
 " What makes ye think of that just now, father? " 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 " Is it on account o' that letther ? " she persisted. 
 
 " It is, Peg." He spoke with difficulty as if the words 
 hurt him to speak. " We've got to a great big crossin'- 
 place again where the roads branch off an' I don't know 
 which one to take." 
 
 " Are ye goin' to lave it to me again, father ? " said 
 Peg. 
 
 " That's what I can't make up me mind about, dear 
 for it may be that ye'll go down one road and me down, 
 the other." 
 
 " No, father," Peg cried passionately, " that we won't. 
 Whatever the road we'll thravel it together." 
 
 " I'll think it out by meself, Peg. Lave me for a while 
 alone. I want to think it out by meself alone." 
 
 " If it's separation ye're thinkin' of, make up yer mind 
 to one thing that I'll never lave you. Never." 
 
 " Take * Michael ' out for a spell and come back in 
 half an hour and in the meanwhile I'll bate it all out in me 
 mind." 
 
 She bent down and straightened the furrows in his 
 forehead with the tips of her fingers, and kissed him and 
 then whistled to the wistful " Michael " and together they 
 went running down the street toward the little patch of
 
 118 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 green where the children played, and amongst whom 
 " Michael " was a prime favourite. 
 
 Sitting, his head in his hands, his eyes staring into the 
 past, O'Connell was facing the second great tragedy of 
 his life.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 WE MEET AN OLD FRIEND AFTER MANY YEARS 
 
 WHILE O'Connell sat there in that little room in New 
 York trying to decide Peg's fate, a man, who had played 
 some considerable part in O'Connell's life, lay, in a splen- 
 didly furnished room in a mansion in the West End of 
 London dying. 
 
 Nathaniel Kingsnorth's twenty years of loneliness and 
 desolation were coming to an end. What an empty, arid 
 stretch of time those years seemed to him as he feebly 
 looked back on them ! 
 
 After the tragedy of his sister's reckless marriage he 
 deserted public-life entirely and shut himself away in his 
 country-house except for a few weeks in London occa- 
 sionally when his presence was required on one or other 
 of the Boards of which he was a director. 
 
 The Irish estate which brought about all his mis- 
 fortunes - he disposed of at a ridiculously low figure. 
 He said he would accept any bid, however small, so that 
 he could sever all connection with the hated village. 
 
 From the day of Angela's elopement he neither saw nor 
 wrote to any member of his family. 
 
 His other sister, Mrs. Chichester, wrote to him from 
 time to time telling him one time of the birth of a boy : 
 two years later of the advent of a girl. 
 
 Kingsnorth did not answer any of her letters. 
 
 In no way dismayed, Mrs. Chichester continued to write 
 periodically. She wrote him when her son Alaric went 
 to school and also when he went to college. Alaric 
 seemed to absorb most of her interest. He was evidently
 
 120 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 her favourite child. She wrote more seldom of her daugh- 
 ter Ethel, and when she did happen to refer to her she 
 dwelt principally on her beauty and her accomplishments. 
 Five years before, an envelope in deep mourning came to 
 Kingsnorth, and on opening it he found a letter from his 
 sister acquainting him with the melancholy news that Mr. 
 Chichester had ended a life of usefulness at the English 
 bar and had died, leaving the family quite comfortably 
 off. 
 
 Kingsnorth telegraphed his condolences and left in- 
 structions for a suitable wreath to be sent to the funeral. 
 But he did not attend it. Nor did he at any time express 
 the slightest wish to see his sister nor did he encourage 
 any suggestion on her part to visit him. 
 
 When he was stricken- with an illness, from which no 
 hope of recovery was held out to him, he at once began to 
 put his affairs in order, and his lawyer spent days with 
 him drawing up statements of his last wishes for the dis- 
 position of his fortune. 
 
 With death stretching out its hand to snatch him from 
 a life he had enjoyed so little, his thoughts, coloured with 
 the fancies of a tired, sick brain, kept turning constantly 
 to his dead sister Angela. 
 
 From time to time down through the years he had a 
 softened, gentle remembrance of her. When the news 
 of her death came, furious and unrelenting as he had been 
 toward her, her passing softened it. Had he known in 
 time he would have insisted on her burial in the Kings- 
 north vault. But she had already been interred in New 
 York before the news of her death reached him. 
 
 The one bitter hatred of his life had been against the 
 man who had taken his sister in marriage and in so doing 
 had killed all possibility of Kingsnorth succeeding in his 
 political and social aspirations.
 
 PEG 
 
 He heard vaguely of a daughter. 
 
 He took no interest in the news. 
 
 Now, however, the remembrance of his treatment of 
 Angela burnt into him. He especially repented of that 
 merciless cable : " You have made your bed ; lie in it." It 
 haunted him through the long hours of his slow and 
 painful illness. Had he helped her she might have been 
 alive to-day, and those bitter reflections that ate into him 
 night and day might have been replaced by gentler ones 
 and so make his end the more peaceful. 
 
 He thought of Angela's child and wondered if she were 
 like his poor dead sister. The wish to see the child be- 
 came an obsession with him. 
 
 One morning, after a restless, feverish night, he sent 
 for his lawyer and told him to at once institute inquiries 
 find out if the child was still living, and if so where. 
 
 This his lawyer did. He located O'Connell in New 
 York, through a friend of his in the Irish party, and 
 found that the child was living with him in rather poor 
 circumstances. He communicated the result of his in- 
 quiries to Kingsnorth. That day a letter was sent to 
 O'Connell asking him to allow his child to visit her dying 
 uncle. O'Connell was to cable at Kingsnorth's expense 
 and if he would consent the money for the expenses of 
 the journey would be cabled immediately. The girl was 
 to start at once, as Mr. Kingsnorth had very little longer 
 to live. 
 
 When the letter had gone Kingsnorth drew a breath 
 of relief. He longed to see the child. He would have 
 to wait impatiently for the reply. Perhaps the man 
 whom he had hated all his life would refuse his request. 
 If he did, well, he would make some provision in his will 
 for her in memory of his dead sister. 
 
 The next day he altered his entire will and made Mar-
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 garet O'Connell a special legacy. Ten days later a cable 
 came: 
 
 I consent to my daughter's visiting you. 
 
 FRANK OWEN O'CONNELL. 
 
 The lawyer cabled at once making all arrangements 
 through their bankers in New York for Miss O'Connell's 
 journey. 
 
 That night Kingsnorth slept without being disturbed. 
 He awoke refreshed in the morning. It was the first 
 kindly action he had done for many years. 
 
 How much had he robbed himself of all his life, if by 
 doing so little he was repaid so much !
 
 CHAPTER HI 
 
 PEG LEAVES HER FATHER FOR THE FIRST TIME 
 
 O'CONNEI/L had a hard struggle with Peg before she 
 would consent to leave him. She met all his arguments 
 with counter-arguments. Nothing would move her for 
 hours. 
 
 " Why should I go to a man I have never seen and hate 
 the name of? " 
 
 " He's your uncle, Peg." 
 
 " It's a fine uncle he's been to me all me life. And it 
 was a grand way he threated me mother when she was 
 starvin'." 
 
 " He wants to do somethin' for ye now, Peg." 
 
 " I'll not go to him." 
 
 " Now listen, dear ; it's little I'll have to lave ye when 
 I'm gone," pleaded O'Connell. 
 
 " I'll not listen to any talk at all about yer goin'. 
 Yer a great strong healthy man that's what ye are. 
 What are ye talkin' about? What's got into yer head 
 about goin' ? " 
 
 " The time must come, some day, Peg." 
 
 " All right, we'll know how to face it when it does. 
 But we're not goin' out all the way to meet it," said 
 Peg, resolutely. 
 
 " It's very few advantages I've been able to give ye, me 
 darlin'," and O'Connell took up the argument again. 
 
 " Advantages or no advantages, what can anybody 
 be more than be happy? Answer me that? An' sure 
 it's happy I've been with you. Now, why should ye 
 
 want to dhrive it all away from me?" 
 
 123
 
 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 To these unanswerable reasons O'Connell would re- 
 main silent for a while, only to take up the cudgels again. 
 He realised what it would mean to Peg to go to London 
 to have the value of education and of gentle surround- 
 ings. He knew her heart was loyal to him: nothing 
 strangers might teach her would ever alter that. And 
 he felt he owed it to her to give her this chance of seeing 
 the great world. He would never be able to do it for 
 her. Much as he hated the name of Kingsnorth he ac- 
 knowledged the fact that he had made an offer O'Connell 
 had no real right to refuse. 
 
 He finally persuaded Peg that it was the wise thing: 
 the right thing: and the thing he wished for the most. 
 
 " I don't care whether it's wise or right," said poor 
 Peg, beaten at last, " but if you wish it " and she 
 broke off. 
 
 " I do wish it, Peg." 
 
 "Ye'll turn me away from ye, eh? " 
 
 *' No, Peg. Ye'll come back to me a fine lady." 
 
 " I'd like to see anybody thry that with me. A lady, 
 indeed! Ye love me as I am. I don't want to be any 
 different. 
 
 " But ye'll go? " 
 
 " If ye say so." 
 
 "Then it's all settled?" 
 
 " I suppose it is." 
 
 " Good, me darlin'. Ye'll never regret it." O'Con- 
 nell said this with a cheery laugh, though his heart was 
 aching at the thought of being separated from her. 
 
 Peg looked at him reproachfully. Then she said: 
 
 " It's surprised I am at ye turnin' me away from ye 
 to go into a stuck-up old man's house that threated me 
 mother the way he did." 
 
 And so the discussion ended.
 
 PEG 125 
 
 For the next few days Peg was busy preparing herself 
 for the journey and buying little things for her scanty 
 equipment. Then the cable came to the effect that a 
 passage was reserved for her and money was waiting 
 at a banker's for her expenses. This Peg obstinately 
 refused to touch. She didn't want anything except what 
 her father gave her. 
 
 When the morning of her departure came, poor Peg 
 woke with a heavy heart. It was their first parting, and 
 she was miserable. 
 
 O'Connell, on the contrary, seemed full of life and 
 high spirits. He laughed at her and joked with her and 
 made a little bundle of some tilings that would not go in 
 her bag and that he had kept for her to the last min- 
 ute. They were a rosary that had been his mother's, 
 a prayer-book Father Cahill gave him the day he was 
 confirmed, and lastly the little miniature of Angela. It 
 wrung his heart to part with it, but he wanted Peg to 
 have it near her, especially as she was going amongst 
 the relations of the dead woman. All through this 
 O'Connell showed not a trace of emotion before Peg. 
 He kept telling her there was nothing to be sad about. 
 It was all going to be for her good. 
 
 When the time came to go, the strange pair made their 
 way down to the ship the tall, erect, splendid-looking 
 man and the little red-haired girl in her simple black 
 suit and her little black hat, with red flowers to brighten 
 it. 
 
 O'Connell went aboard with her, and an odd couple 
 they looked on the saloon-deck, with Peg holding on to 
 *' Michael " much to the amusement of the passengers, 
 the visitors and the stewards. 
 
 Poor, staunch, loyal, honest, true little Peg, going 
 alone to what ? Leaving the one human being she
 
 126 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 cared for and worshipped her playmate, counsellor, 
 friend and father all in one ! 
 
 O'Connell never dropped his high spirits all the time 
 they were together on board the ship. He went aboard 
 with a laugh and when the bell rang for all visitors to go 
 ashore he said good-bye to Peg with a laugh while 
 poor Peg's heart felt like a stone in her breast. She 
 stood sobbing up against the rail of the saloon deck as 
 the ship swung clear. She was looking for her father 
 through the mists of tears that blinded her. 
 
 Just as the boat slowly swept past the end of the dock 
 she saw him right at the last post so that he could watch 
 the boat uninterruptedly until it was out of sight. He 
 was crying himself now crying like a child, and as the 
 boat swung away he called up, " My little Peg ! Peg o' 
 my Heart 1 " How she longed to get off that ship and 
 go back to him! They stood waving to each other as 
 long as they remained in sight. 
 
 While the ship ploughed her way toward England 
 with little Peg on board, the man whom she was crossing 
 the Atlantic to meet died quietly one morning with no 
 one near him. 
 
 The nurse found Mr. Kingsnorth smiling peacefully 
 as though asleep. He had been dead several hours. 
 
 Near him on the table was a cable despatch from New 
 York: 
 
 My daughter sailed on the Mauretania to-day at ten 
 o'clock. 
 
 FRANK OWEN O'CONNELL.
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 t 
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE CHICHESTEB, FAMILY 
 
 MRS. CHICHESTER whom we last saw under ex- 
 tremely distressing circumstances in Ireland now en- 
 ters prominently into the story. She was leading a se- 
 cluded and charming existence in an old and picturesque 
 villa at Scarboro, in the north of England. Although 
 her husband had been dead for several years, she still 
 clung to the outward symbols of mourning. It added 
 a softness to the patrician line of her features and a 
 touch of distinction to her manner and poise. She had 
 an illustrious example of a life-long sorrow, and, being 
 ever loyal, Mrs. Chichester retained the weeds of wid- 
 owhood and the crepe of affliction ever present. 
 
 She was proud indeed of her two children about 
 whom she had written so glowingly to her brother Na- 
 thaniel. 
 
 Alaric was the elder. In him Mrs. Chichester took 
 the greater pride. He was so nearly being great 
 even from infancy that he continually kept his mother 
 in a condition of expectant wonder. He was nearly 
 brilliant at school: at college he almost got his degree. 
 He just missed his " blue " at cricket, and but for an 
 unfortunate ball dribbling over the net at a critical mo- 
 ment in the semi-final of the tennis championships, he 
 might have won the cup. He was quite philosophic about 
 it, though, and never appeared to reproach fate for 
 treating him so shabbily. 
 
 He was always nearly doing something, and kept 
 
 Mrs. Chichester in a lively condition of trusting hope 
 
 129
 
 130 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 and occasional disappointment. She knew he would " ar- 
 rive " some day come into his own : then all these half- 
 rewarded efforts would be invaluable in the building of 
 his character. 
 
 Her daughter, Ethel, on the other hand, was the 
 exact antithesis to Alaric. She had never shown the 
 slightest interest in anything since she had first looked 
 up at the man of medicine who ushered her into the world. 
 She regarded everything about her with the greatest 
 complacency. She was never surprised or angry, or 
 pleased, or depressed. Sorrow never seemed to affect 
 her nor joy make her smile. She looked on life as a 
 gentle brook down whose current she was perfectly con- 
 tent to drift undisturbed. At least, that was the effect 
 created in Mrs. Chichester's mind. She never thought 
 it possible there might be latent possibilities in her im- 
 passive daughter. 
 
 While her mother admired Ethel's lofty attitude of in- 
 difference toward the world a manner that bespoke 
 the aristocrat she secretly chafed at her daughter's 
 lack of enthusiasm. 
 
 How different to Alaric always full of nearly new 
 ideas: always about to do something. Alaric kept those 
 around him on the alert no one ever really knew what 
 he would do next. On the other hand, Ethel depressed 
 by her stolid content with everything about her. Ev- 
 ery one knew what she would do or thought they did. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester had long since abandoned any further 
 attempt to interest her brother Nathaniel in the children. 
 
 Angela's wretched marriage had upset everything, 
 driven Nathaniel to be a recluse and to close his doors 
 on near and distant relatives. 
 
 Angela's death the following year did not relieve the 
 situation. If anything, it intensified it, since she left a
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 131 
 
 baby that, naturally, none of the family could possibly 
 take the slightest notice of nor interest in. 
 
 It was tacitly agreed never to speak of the unfortu- 
 nate incident, especially before the children. It was 
 such a terrible example for Ethel, and so discouraging 
 to the eager and ambitious Alaric. 
 
 Consequently Angela's name was never spoken inside 
 of Regal Villa. 
 
 And so the Chichester family pursued an even course, 
 only varied by Alaric's sudden and definite decisions to 
 enter either public life, or athletics, or the army, or the 
 world of art it was really extremely hard for so well- 
 equipped a young man to decide to limit himself to any 
 one particular pursuit. Consequently he put off the 
 final choice from day to day. 
 
 Suddenly a most untoward incident happened. 
 
 Alaric, returning from a long walk, alone during 
 which he had almost decided to become a doctor 
 walked in through the windows from the garden into the 
 living-room and found his mother in tears, an open let- 
 ter in her hand. 
 
 This was most unusual. Mrs. Chichester was not 
 wont to give vent to open emotion. It shows a lack 
 of breeding. So she always suppressed it. It seemed 
 to grow inwards. To find her weeping and almost 
 audibly impressed Alaric that something of more than 
 usual importance had occurred. 
 
 " Hello, Mater ! " he cried cheerfully, though his looks 
 belied the buoyancy of his tone. " Hullo ! what's the 
 matter? What's up?" 
 
 At the same moment Ethel came in through the door. 
 
 It was 11 :30, and at precisely that time every morn- 
 ing Ethel practised for half an hour on the piano. Not 
 that she had the slightest interest in music, but it helped
 
 the morning so much. She would look forward to it for 
 an hour before, and think of it for an hour afterwards 
 and then it was lunch-time. It practically filled out the 
 entire morning. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked up as her beloved children came 
 toward her and real tears were in her eyes, and a real 
 note of alarm was in her voice: 
 
 " Oh Ethel ! Oh Alaric ! " 
 
 Alaric was at her side in a moment. He was genu- 
 inely alarmed. 
 
 Ethel moved slowly across, thinking, vaguely, that 
 something must have disagreed with her mother. 
 
 "What ** it, mater?" cried Alaric. 
 
 " Mother ! " said Ethel, with as nearly a tone of emo- 
 tion as she could feel. 
 
 " We're ruined ! " sobbed Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said the bewildered son. 
 
 " Really ? " asked the placid daughter. 
 
 " Our bank has failed ! Every penny your poor fa- 
 ther left me was in it," wailed Mrs. Chichester. " We've 
 nothing. Nothing. We're beggars." 
 
 A horrible fear for a moment gripped Alaric the 
 dread of poverty. He shivered ! Suppose such a thing 
 should really happen? Then he dismissed it with a- 
 shrug of his shoulders. How perfectly absurd! Pov- 
 erty, indeed! The Chichesters beggars? Such non- 
 sense! He turned to his mother and found her holding 
 out a letter and a newspaper. He took them both and 
 read them with mingled amazement and disgust. First 
 the headline of the newspaper caught his eye: 
 
 " Failure of Gifford's Bank." 
 
 Then he looked at the letter: 
 
 " Gifford's Bank suspended business yesterday ! '* 
 Back his eye travelled to the paper :
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 133 
 
 " Gifford's Bank has closed its doors ! " He was quite 
 unable, at first, to grasp the full significance of the con- 
 tents of that letter and newspaper. He turned to Ethel : 
 
 " Eh? " he gasped. 
 
 " Pity," she murmured, trying to find a particular 
 piece of music amongst the mass on the piano. 
 
 " We're ruined ! " reiterated Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 Then the real meaning of those cryptic headlines and 
 the business-like letter broke in on Alaric. All the Chi- 
 chester blood was roused in him. 
 
 " Now that's what I call a downright, rotten, black- 
 guardly shame a blackguardly shame! " His voice 
 rose in tones as it increased in intensity until it almost 
 reached a shriek. 
 
 Something was expected of him. At any rate indig- 
 nation. Well, he was certainly indignant. 
 
 " Closed its doors, indeed ! " he went on. " Why 
 should it close its doors? That's what I want to know! 
 Why should it ? " and he glared at the unoffending 
 letter and the non-committal newspaper. 
 
 He looked at Ethel, who was surreptitiously conceal- 
 ing a yawn, and was apparently quite undisturbed by 
 the appalling news. 
 
 He found no inspiration there. 
 
 Back he went to his mother for support. 
 
 "What right have banks to fail? There should be a 
 law against it. They should be made to open their doors 
 and keep 'em open. That's what we give 'em our money 
 for so that we can take it out again when we want it." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Chichester shook her head sadly. 
 
 " Everything gone," she moaned. " Ruined ! and at 
 my age ! " 
 
 " Nice kettle of fish," was all Alaric could think of. 
 He was momentarily stunned. He turned once more to
 
 134. PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Ethel. He never relied on her very much, but at this 
 particular crisis he would like to have some expression 
 of opinion, however slight from her. 
 
 " I say, Ethel, it's a nice kettle of fish all a-boilin', 
 eh?" 
 
 " Shame ! " she said quietly, as she found the particu- 
 lar movement of Grieg she had been looking for. She 
 loved Grieg. He fitted into all her moods. She played 
 everything he composed exactly the same. She seemed 
 to think it soothed her. She would play some now and 
 soothe her mother and Alaric. 
 
 She began an impassioned movement which she played 
 evenly and correctly, and without any unseemly force. 
 
 Alaric cried out distractedly : " For goodness' sake 
 stop that, Ethel ! Haven't you got any feelings ? Can't 
 you see how upset the mater is? And I am? Stop it. 
 There's a dear ! Let's put our backs into this thing and 
 thrash it all out. Have a little family meetin', as it 
 were." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Chichester repeated, as though it were some 
 refrain : " Ruined ! At my age ! " 
 
 Alaric sat on the edge of her chair and put his arm 
 around her shoulder and tried to comfort her. 
 
 " Don't you worry, mater," he said. " Don't worry. 
 I'll go down and tell 'em what I think of 'em exactly 
 what I think of 'em. They can't play the fool with me. 
 I should think not, indeed. Listen, mater. You've got 
 a son, thank God, and one no bank can take any liberties 
 with. What we put in there we've got to have out. 
 That's all I can say. We've simply got to have it out. 
 There! I've said it!" 
 
 Alaric rose, and drawing himself up to his full five feet 
 six inches of manhood glared malignantly at some imag- 
 inary bank officials. His whole nature was roused.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 185 
 
 The future of the family depended on him. They would 
 not depend in vain. He looked at Ethel, who was trying 
 to make the best of the business by smiling agreeably 
 on them both. 
 
 " It's bankrupt ! " wailed Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Failed ! " suggested Ethel, cheerfully. 
 
 " We're beggars," continued the mother. " I must 
 live on charity for the rest of my life. The guest of re- 
 lations I've hated the sight of and who have hated me. 
 It's dreadful! Dreadful!" 
 
 All Alaric's first glow of manly enthusiasm began to 
 cool. 
 
 " Don't you think we'll get anything? " By accident 
 he turned to Ethel. She smiled meaninglessly and said 
 for the first time with any real note of conviction: 
 
 "Nothing!" 
 
 Alaric sat down gloomily beside his mother. 
 
 " I always thought bank directors were blighters. 
 Good Lord, what a mess ! " He looked the picture of 
 misery. "What's to become of Ethel, mater? " 
 
 " Whoever shelters me must shelter Ethel as well," re- 
 plied the mother sadly. " But it's hard at my age 
 to be sheltered" 
 
 Alaric looked at Ethel, and a feeling of pity came 
 over him. It was distinctly to his credit since his 
 own wrongs occupied most of his attention. But after 
 all he could buffet the world and wring a living out of it. 
 All he had to do was to make up his mind which walk in 
 life to choose. He was fortunate. 
 
 But Ethel, reared from infancy in the environment of 
 independence: it would come very hard and bitter on 
 her. 
 
 Alaric just touched Ethel's hand, and with as much 
 feeling as he could muster, he said:
 
 136 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Shockin' tough, old girl." 
 
 Ethel shook her head almost determinedly and said, 
 somewhat enigmatically, and for her, heatedly : 
 
 " No! " 
 
 " No ? " asked Alaric. " No what? " 
 
 " Charity ! " said Ethel. 
 
 " Cold-blooded word," and Alaric shuddered. " What 
 will you do, Ethel? " 
 
 " Work." 
 
 "At what?" 
 
 " Teach." 
 
 "Teach? Who in the wide world can you teach?" 
 
 " Children." 
 
 Alaric laughed mirthlessly. " Oh, come, that's rich ! 
 Eh, mater? Fancy Ethel teachin' grubby little brats 
 their A B C's ! Tush ! " 
 
 " Must ! " said Ethel, quite unmoved. 
 
 " A Chichester teach? " said Alaric, in disgust. 
 
 " Settled ! " from Ethel, and she swept her fingers 
 slowly across the piano. 
 
 " Very well," said Alaric, determinedly : " I'll work, 
 too." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked up pleadingly. 
 
 Alaric went on : " I'll put my hand to the plough. 
 The more I think of it the keener I am to begin. From 
 to-day I'll be a workin' man." 
 
 At this Ethel laughed a queer, little, odd, supercilious 
 note, summed up in a single word : " Ha ! " There was 
 nothing mirthful in it. There was no reproach in it. 
 It was just an expression of her honest feeling at the 
 bare suggestion of her brother working. 
 
 Alaric turned quickly to her: 
 
 " And may I ask why that ' Ha ! '? Why, I ask you?
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 137 
 
 There's nothing I couldn't do if I were really put to it 
 not a single thing. Is there, mater ? " 
 
 His mother looked up proudly at him. 
 
 " I know that, dear. But it's dreadful to think of 
 you working." 
 
 " Not at all," said Alaric, " I'm just tingling all over 
 at the thought of it. The only reason I haven't so far 
 is because I've never had to. But now that I have, I'll 
 just buckle on my armour, so to speak, and astonish you 
 all." 
 
 Again came that deadly, cold, unsympathetic " Ha ! " 
 from Ethel. 
 
 " Please don't laugh in that cheerless way, Ethel. It 
 goes all down my spine. Jerry's always tellin' me I 
 ought to do something that the world is for the 
 worker and all that. He's right, and I'm goin' to 
 show him." He suddenly picked up the paper and looked 
 at the date. " What's to-day ? The first? Yes, so it 
 is. June the first. Jerry's comin' to-day all his 
 family, too. They've taken * Noel's Folly ' on the hill. 
 He's sure to look in here. Couldn't be better. He's 
 the cove to turn to in a case like this." 
 
 Jarvis, a white-haired, dignified butler who had served 
 the family man and boy, came in at this juncture with a 
 visiting card on a salver. 
 
 Alaric picked it up and glanced at it. He gave an ex- 
 pression of disgust and flung the card back on the salver. 
 
 " Christian Brent." 
 
 For the first time Ethel showed more than a passing 
 gleam of interest. She stopped strumming the piano 
 and stood up, very erect and very still. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester rose too : " I can't see any one," she 
 said imperatively.
 
 188 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 " Nor I," added Alaric. " I'm all strung up." He 
 turned to Jarvis. " Tell Mr. Brent we're very sorry, 
 but " 
 
 " I'll see him," interrupted Ethel, almost animatedly. 
 " Bring Mr. Brent here, Jarvis." 
 
 As Jarvis went in search of Mr. Brent, Mrs. Chiches- 
 ter went up the great stairs : " My head is throbbing. 
 I'll go to my room." 
 
 " Don't you worry, mater," consoled Alaric. " Leave 
 everything to me. I'll thrash the whole thing out 
 absolutely thrash it out." 
 
 As Mrs. Chichester disappeared, Alaric turned to his 
 calm sister, who, strangely enough, was showing some 
 signs of life and interest. 
 
 "Awful business, Ethel, eh? " 
 
 " Pretty bad." 
 
 "Really goin' to teach?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Right ! I'll find somethin', too. Very likely a doc- 
 tor. We'll pull through somehow." 
 
 Ethel made a motion toward the door as though to 
 stop any further conversation. 
 
 " Mr. Brent's coming," she said, almost impatiently. 
 
 Alaric started for the windows leading into the gar- 
 den. 
 
 " Jolly good of you to let him bore you. I hate the 
 sight of the beggar, myself. Always looks to me like 
 the first conspirator at a play." 
 
 The door opened, and Jarvis entered and ushered in 
 " Mr. Brent." Alaric hurried into the garden.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 CHRISTIAN BRENT 
 
 A FEW words of description of Christian Brent might 
 be of interest, since he represents a type that society al- 
 ways has with it. 
 
 They begin by deceiving others : they end by deceiv- 
 ing thenaselvee. 
 
 Christian Brent was a dark, tense, eager, scholarly- 
 looking man of twenty-eight years of age. His career 
 as a diplomatist was halted at its outset by an early 
 marriage with the only daughter of a prosperous manu- 
 facturer. Brent was moderately independent in his own 
 right, but the addition of his wife's dowry seemed to de- 
 stroy all ambition. He no longer found interest in car- 
 rying messages to the various legations or embassies of 
 Europe, or in filling a routine position as some one's sec- 
 retary. From being an intensely eager man of affairs 
 he drifted into a social lounger the lapdog of the 
 drawing-room where the close breath of some rare per- 
 fume meant more than the clash of interests, and the con- 
 quest of a woman greater than that of a nation. . 
 
 Just at this period Ethel Chichester was the especial 
 object of his adoration. 
 
 Her beauty appealed to him. 
 
 Her absolute indifference to him stung him as a lash. 
 It seemed to belittle his powers of attraction. Conse- 
 quently he redoubled his efforts. 
 
 Ethel showed neither like nor dislike just a form of 
 toleration. Brent accepted this as a dog a crumb, in 
 the hope of something more substantial to follow. He 
 
 139
 
 140 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 had come that morning with a fixed resolve. His man- 
 ner was determined. His voice wooed as a caress. He 
 went tenderly to Ethel the moment the door closed on 
 Jarvis. 
 
 "How are you?" he asked, and there was a note of 
 subdued passion in his tone. 
 
 " Fair," replied Ethel, without even looking at him. 
 
 " Where is your mother? " suggesting that much de- 
 pended on the answer. 
 
 " Lying down," answered Ethel, truthfully and with- 
 out any feeling. 
 
 "And Alaric?" 
 
 " In the garden." 
 
 "Then we have a moment or two alone?" Brent 
 put a world of meaning into the suggestion. 
 
 " Very likely," said Ethel, picking up a score of 
 Boheme and looking at it as if she saw it for the first 
 time: all the while watching him through her half-closed 
 yes. 
 
 Brent went to her. " Glad io see me? " he asked. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I am glad to see you." He bent over her. " More 
 than glad." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 He sat beside her : " Ethel," he whispered intensely : 
 " I am at the Cross-roads." 
 
 " Oh? " commented Ethel, without any interest. 
 
 " It came last night." 
 
 "Did it?" 
 
 " This is the end between Sybil and myself." 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 " Yes the end. It's been horrible from the first 
 horrible. There's not a word of mine not an action 
 she doesn't misunderstand."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 14*1 
 
 " How boring," said Ethel blandly. 
 
 " She would see harm even in this! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " She'd think I was here to to " he stopped. 
 
 " What? " innocently inquired Ethel. 
 
 " Make love to you," and he looked earnestly into her 
 eyes. 
 
 She met his look quite frankly and astonished him 
 with the question: "Well? Aren't you?" 
 
 He rose anxiously : " Ethel ! " 
 
 " Don't you always ? " persisted Ethel. 
 
 " Has it seemed like that to you ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered candidly. " By insinuation : 
 never straightforwardly." 
 
 "Has it offended you?" 
 
 "Then you admit it?" 
 
 " Oh," he cried passionately, " I wish I had the right 
 to to " again he wavered. 
 
 " Yes ? " and Ethel looked straight at him. 
 
 " Make love to you straightforwardly." He felt the 
 supreme moment had almost arrived. Now, he thought, 
 he would be rewarded for the long waiting; the endless 
 siege to this marvellous woman who concealed her real 
 nature beneath that marble casing of an assumed in- 
 difference. 
 
 He waited eagerly for her answer. When it came it 
 shocked and revolted him. 
 
 Ethel dropped her gaze from his face and said, 
 with the suspicion of a smile playing around her 
 lips: 
 
 " If you had the right to make love to me straightfor- 
 wardly you wouldn't do it." 
 
 He looked at her in amazement. 
 
 " What do you mean? " he gasped.
 
 142 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " It's only because you haven't the right that you do 
 it by suggestion," Ethel pursued. 
 
 " How can you say that ? " And he put all the heart 
 he was capable of into the question. 
 
 " You don't deny it," she said quietly. 
 
 He breathed hard and then said bitterly: 
 
 " What a contemptible opinion you must have of 
 me." 
 
 " Then we're quits, aren't we? " 
 
 " How? " he asked. 
 
 " Haven't you one of me? " 
 
 " Of you? Why, Ethel " 
 
 " Surely every married man must have a contemptible 
 opinion of the woman he covertly makes love to. If he 
 hadn't he couldn't do it, could he? " Once again she lev- 
 elled her cold, impassive eyes on Brent's flushed face. 
 
 " I don't follow you," was all Brent said. 
 
 " Haven't you had time to think of an answer? " 
 
 " I don't know what you're driving at," he added. 
 
 Ethel smiled her most enigmatical smile: 
 
 "No? I think you do." She waited a moment. 
 Brent said nothing. This was a new mood of Ethel's. 
 It baffled him. 
 
 Presently she relieved the silence by asking him : 
 
 " What happened last night ? " 
 
 He hesitated. Then he answered: 
 
 " I'd rather not say. I'd sound like a cad blaming a 
 woman." 
 
 " Never mind how it sounds. Tell it. It must have 
 been amusing." 
 
 "Amusing? Good God!" He bent over her again. 
 " Oh, the more I look at you and listen te you, the more 
 I realise I should never have married." 
 
 " Why did you ? " came the cool question.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 143 
 
 Brent answered with all the power at his command. 
 Here was the moment to lay his heart bare that Ethel 
 might see. 
 
 " Have you ever seen a young hare, fresh from its 
 kind, run headlong into a snare? Have you ever seen a 
 young man free of the trammels of college, dash into a 
 net? I did! I wasn't trap-wise! " 
 
 He paced the room restlessly, all the self-pity rising 
 in him. He went on: 
 
 " Good God ! what nurslings we are when we first feel 
 our feet! We're like children just loose from the lead- 
 ing-strings. Anything that glitters catches us. Every 
 trap that is set for our unwary feet we drop into. I 
 did. Dropped in. Caught hand and foot mind and 
 soul." 
 
 " Soul? " queried Ethel, with a note of doubt. 
 
 "Yes," he answered. 
 
 " Don't you mean body? " she suggested. 
 
 " Body, mind and soul ! " he said, with an air of finality. 
 
 " Well, body anyway," summed up Ethel. 
 
 "And for what?" he went on. "For what? Love! 
 Companionship ! That is what we build on in marriage. 
 And what did 7 realise? Hate and wrangling! Wran- 
 gling just as the common herd, with no advantages, 
 wrangle, and make it a part of their lives the zest to 
 their union. It's been my curse." 
 
 " Why wrangling? " drawled Ethel. 
 
 " She didn't understand." 
 
 " You? " asked Ethel, in surprise. 
 
 " My thoughts ! My actions ! " 
 
 " How curious." 
 
 " You mean you would ? " 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 " I'm sure of it." He tried to take her hand. She
 
 144 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 drew it away, and settled herself comfortably to listen 
 again : 
 
 " Tell me more about your wife." 
 
 " The slightest attention shown to any other woman 
 meant a ridiculous a humiliating scene." 
 
 " Humiliating? " 
 
 " Isn't doubt and suspicion humiliating ? " 
 
 " It would be a compliment in some cases." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " It would put a fictitious value on some men." 
 
 " You couldn't humiliate in that way," he ventured, 
 slowly. 
 
 " No. I don't think I could. If a man showed a 
 preference for any other woman she would be quite wel- 
 come to him." 
 
 " No man could ! " said Brent, insinuatingly. 
 
 She looked at him coldly a moment. 
 
 "Let me see where were you? Just married, 
 weren't you? Go on." 
 
 " Then came the baby ! " He said that with a signifi- 
 cant meaning and paused to see the effect on Ethel. If 
 it had any, Ethel effectually concealed it. Her only 
 comment was: 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Brent went on: 
 
 " One would think that would change things. But 
 no. Neither of us wanted her. Neither of us love her. 
 Children should come of love not hate. And she is 
 a child of hate." He paused, looking intently at Ethel. 
 She looked understandingly at him, then dropped her 
 eyes. 
 
 Brent went on as if following up an advantage : " She 
 sits in her little chair, her small, wrinkled, old disillu-
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 145 
 
 sioned face turned to us, with the eyes watching us ac- 
 cusingly. She submits to caresses as though they were 
 distasteful: as if she knew they were lies. At times she 
 pushes the nearing face away with her little baby fin- 
 gers." He stopped, watching her eagerly. Her eyes 
 were down. 
 
 " I shouldn't tell you this. It's terrible. I see it in 
 your face. What are you thinking? " 
 
 " I'm sorry," replied Ethel simply. 
 
 "Forme?" 
 
 " For your wife." 
 
 " My wife? " he repeated, aghast. 
 
 "Yes," said Ethel. "Aren't you? No? Are you 
 just sorry for yourself? " 
 
 Brent turned impatiently away. So this laying-open 
 the wound in his life was nothing to Ethel. Instead of 
 pity for him all it engendered in her was sorrow for his 
 wife. 
 
 How little women understood him. 
 
 There was a pathetic catch in his voice as he turned 
 to Ethel and said reproachfully : 
 
 "You think me purely selfish?" 
 
 " Naturally," she answered quickly. '* I am. Why 
 not be truthful about ourselves sometimes? Eh? " 
 
 " We quarrelled last night about you ! " he said, 
 desperately. 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 " Gossip has linked us together. My wife has heard 
 it and put the worst construction on it." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " We said things to each other last night that can 
 never be forgiven or forgotten. I left the house and 
 walked the streets hours ! I looked my whole life
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 back and through as though it were some stranger's." 
 He turned abruptly away to the windows and stayed a 
 moment, looking down the drive. 
 
 Ethel said nothing. 
 
 He came back to her in a few moments. 
 
 " I tell you we ought to be taught we ought to be 
 taught, when we are young, what marriage really means, 
 just as we are taught not to steal, nor lie, nor sin. In 
 marriage we do all three when we're ill-mated. We 
 steal affection from some one else, we lie in our lives and 
 we sin in our relationship." 
 
 Ethel asked him very quietly: 
 
 " Do you mean that you are a sinner, a thief, and a 
 liar?" 
 
 Brent looked at her in horror. 
 
 " Oh, take some of the blame," said Ethel ; " don't put 
 it all on the woman." 
 
 " You've never spoken to me like this before." 
 
 " I've often wanted to," replied Ethel. Then she 
 asked him: " What do you intend doing?" 
 
 " Separate," he answered, eagerly. " You don't doc- 
 tor a poisoned limb when your life depends on it ; you 
 cut it off. When two lives generate a deadly poison, 
 face the problem as a surgeon would. Amputate." 
 
 " And after the operation ? What then ? " asked 
 Ethel. 
 
 " That is why I am here facing you. Do you under- 
 stand what I mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes. Perfectly. I have been waiting for 
 you to get to the point." 
 
 "Ethel!" and he impulsively stretched out his arms 
 as though to embrace her. 
 
 She drew back slightly, just out of his reach. 
 
 " Wait." She looked up at him, quizzically : " Sup-
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 147 
 
 pose we generate poison? What would you do? Am- 
 putate me? " 
 
 " You are different from all other women." 
 
 " Didn't you tell your wife that when you asked her 
 to marry you ? " 
 
 He turned away impatiently : " Don't say those 
 things, Ethel, they hurt." 
 
 "I'm afraid, Christian, I'm too frank, aren't I?" 
 
 " You stand alone, Ethel. You seem to look into the 
 hearts of people and know why and how they beat." 
 
 "I do sometimes. It's an awkward faculty." 
 
 He looked at her glowingly : " How marvellously dif- 
 ferent two women can be ! You my wife." 
 
 Ethel shook her head and smiled her calm, dead smile : 
 " We're not really very different, Christian. Only some 
 natures like change. Yours does. And the new have 
 all the virtues. Why, I might not last as long as your 
 wife did." 
 
 " Don't say that. We have a common bond under- 
 standing." 
 
 "Think so?" 
 
 " I understand you." 
 
 " I wonder." 
 
 " You do me." 
 
 " Yes that is just the difficulty." 
 
 " I tell you I am at the cross-roads. The fingerboard 
 points the way to me distinctly." 
 
 "Does it?" 
 
 "It does." He leaned across to her: "Would you 
 risk it?" 
 
 "What?" she asked. 
 
 " I'll hide nothing. I'll put it all before you. The 
 snubs of your friends. The whisper of a scandal that 
 would grow into a roar. Afraid to open a newspaper,
 
 148 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 fearing what might be printed in it. Life, at first, 
 in some little Continental village dreading the passers 
 through keeping out of sight lest they would recog- 
 nise one. No. It wouldn't be fair to you." 
 
 Ethel thought a moment, then answered slowly: 
 
 " No, Chris, I don't think it would." 
 
 " You see I am a cad just a selfish cad ! " 
 
 " Aren't you ? " and she smiled up at him. 
 
 " I'll never speak of this again. I wouldn't have now 
 only I'm distracted to-day completely dis- 
 tracted. Will you forgive me for speaking as I did? " 
 
 "Certainly," said Ethel. "I'm not offended. On 
 the contrary. [Anyway, I'll think it over and let you 
 know." 
 
 " You will, really? " he asked greedily, grasping at 
 the straw of a hope. " You will really think it over ? " 
 
 " I will, really." 
 
 " And when she sets me free," he went on, " we could, 
 we could " He suddenly stopped. 
 
 She looked coolly at him as he hesitated and said : " It 
 is a difficult little word at times, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Would you marry me?" he asked, with a supreme 
 effort. 
 
 " I never cross my bridges until I come to them," 
 said Ethel, languidly. " And we're such a long way 
 from tJiat one, aren't we? " 
 
 "Then I am to wait?" 
 
 " Yes. Do," she replied. " When the time comes 
 to accept the charity of relations, or do something useful 
 for tuppence a week, Bohemian France or Italy but 
 then the runaways always go to France or Italy, don't 
 they ? Suppose we say Hungary ? Shall we ? " 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 She went on : " Very well. When I have to choose
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 149 
 
 between charity and labour, Bohemian Hungary may 
 beckon me." 
 
 He looked at her in a puzzled way. What new mood 
 was this? 
 
 "Charity?" he asked. "Labour?" 
 
 " Yes. It has come to that. A tiresome bank has 
 failed with all our sixpences locked up in it. Isn't it 
 stupid? " 
 
 " Is all your money gone ? " 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 " Dear mamma knows as little about business as she 
 does about me. Until this morning she has always had 
 a rooted belief in her bank and her daughter. If I bolt 
 with you, her last cherished illusion will be destroyed." 
 
 " Let me help you," he said eagerly. 
 
 " How? " and she looked at him again with that cold, 
 hard scrutiny. " Lend us money, do you mean? " 
 
 He fell into the trap. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I'd do that if you'd let me." 
 
 She gave just the suggestion of a sneer and turned 
 deliberately away. 
 
 He felt the fcrce of the unspoken reproof: 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said humbly. 
 
 She went on as if she had not heard the offensive sug- 
 gestion : " So you see we're both, in a way, at the cross- 
 roads." 
 
 He seized her hand fiercely : " Let me take you away 
 out of it all ! " he cried. 
 
 She withdrew her hand slowly. 
 
 " No," she said, " not just now. I'm not in a bolting 
 mood to-day." 
 
 He moved away. She watched him. Then she called 
 him to her. Something in the man attracted this strange
 
 100 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 nature. She could not analyse or define the attraction. 
 But the impelling force was there. 
 
 He went to her. 
 
 Ethel spoke to him for the first time softly, languor- 
 ously, almost caressingly: 
 
 " Chris ! Sometime perhaps in the dead of night 
 something will snap in me the slack, selfish, luxuri- 
 ous me, that hates to be roused into action, and the 
 craving for adventure will come. Then I'll send for you." 
 
 He took her hand again and this time she did not 
 draw it away. He said in a whisper : 
 
 " And you'll go with me ? " 
 
 Ethel stretched lazily and smiled at him through her 
 half-closed eyes. 
 
 " I suppose so. Then Heaven help you ! " 
 
 " Why should we wait?" he cried. 
 
 " It will give us the suspense of expectation." 
 
 " I want you ! I need you ! " he pleaded. 
 
 " Until the time comes for amputation? " 
 
 " Don't ! Don't ! " and he dropped her hand sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " Well, I don't want you to have any illusions about 
 me, Chris. I have none about you. Let us begin fair 
 anyway. It will be so much easier when the end comes." 
 
 " There will be no end," he said passionately. " I 
 love you love you with every breath of my body, 
 every thought in my mind, every throb of my nerves. I 
 love you ! " He kissed her hand repeatedly. " I love 
 you ! " He took her in his arms and pressed her to him. 
 
 She struggled with him without any anger, or disgust, 
 or fear. As she put him away from her she just said 
 simply : 
 
 " Please don't. It's so hot this morning." 
 
 As she turned away from him she was struck dumb.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 151 
 
 Sitting beside the table in the middle of the room, her 
 back turned to them, was the strangest, oddest little figure 
 Ethel had ever seen. 
 
 Who was she? How long had she been in the room? 
 
 Ethel turned to Brent. He was quite pale now and 
 was nervously stroking his slight moustache. 
 
 Ethel was furious ! It was incredible that Brent could 
 have been so indiscreet! 
 
 How on earth did that creature get there without 
 their hearing or seeing her? 
 
 Ethel went straight to the demure little figure sitting 
 on the chair.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 PEG ARKIVES IN ENGLAND 
 
 PEG'S journey to England was one of the unhappiest 
 memories of her life. She undertook the voyage de- 
 liberately to please her father, because he told her it 
 would please him. But beneath this feeling of pleasing 
 him was one of sullen resentment at being made to sepa- 
 rate from him. 
 
 She planned all kinds of reprisals upon the unfortu- 
 nate people she was going amongst. She would be so 
 rude to them and so unbearable that they would be glad 
 to send her back on the next boat. She schemed out her 
 whole plan of action. She would contradict and disobey 
 and berate and belittle. Nothing they would do would 
 be right to her and nothing she would do or say would 
 be right to them. She took infinite pleasure in her plan 
 of campaign. Then when she was enjoying the pleasure 
 of such resentful dreams she would think of her father 
 waiting for news of her : of his pride in her : of how much 
 he wanted her to succeed. She would realise how much 
 the parting meant to him, and all her little plots would 
 tumble down and she would resolve to try and please her 
 relations, learn all she could, succeed beyond all expres- 
 sion and either go back to America prosperous, or send 
 for her father to join her in England. All her dreams 
 had her father, either centrifugally or centripetally, beat- 
 ing through them. 
 
 She refused all advances of friendship aboard ship. 
 No one dared speak to her. She wanted to be alone in 
 
 her sorrow. She and " Michael " would romp on the 
 
 152
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 153 
 
 lower deck, by favour of one of the seamen, who would 
 keep a sharp look-out for officers. 
 
 This seaman O'Farrell by name took quite a lik- 
 ing to Peg and the dog and did many little kindly, 
 gracious acts to minister to the comfort of both of them. 
 
 He warned her that they would not let " Michael " go 
 with her from the dock until he had first been quaran- 
 tined. This hurt Peg more than anything could. She 
 burst into tears. To have ** Michael " taken from her 
 would be the last misfortune. She would indeed be alone 
 in that strange country. She was inconsolable. 
 
 O'Farrell, at last, took it on himself to get the dog 
 ashore. He would wrap him up in some sail cloths, and 
 then he would carry " Michael " outside the gates when 
 the Customs' authorities had examined her few belong- 
 ings. 
 
 When they reached Liverpool O'Farrell was as good as 
 his word, though many were the anxious moments they 
 had as one or other of the Customs' officers would eye the 
 suspicious package O'Farrell carried so carelessly under 
 his arm. 
 
 At the dock a distinguished-looking gentleman came 
 on board and after some considerable difficulty succeeded 
 in locating Peg. He was a well-dressed, soft-speaking, 
 vigorous man of forty-five. He inspired Peg with an in- 
 stant dislike by his somewhat authoritative and pompous 
 manner. He introduced himself as Mr. Montgomery 
 Hawkes, the legal adviser for the Kingsnorth estate, and 
 at once proceeded to take charge of Peg as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 Poor Peg felt ashamed of her poor little bag, contain- 
 ing just a few changes of apparel, and her little paper 
 bundle. She was mortified when she walked down the 
 gangway with the prosperous-looking lawyer whilst ex-
 
 154 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 travagantly dressed people with piles of luggage dashed 
 here and there endeavouring to get it examined. 
 
 But Mr. Hawkes did not appear to notice Peg's shab- 
 biness. On the contrary he treated her and her belong- 
 ings as though she were the most fashionable of fine 
 ladies and her wardrobe the most complete. 
 
 Outside the gates she found O'Farrell waiting for her, 
 with the precious " Michael " struggling to free himself 
 from his coverings. Hawkes soon had a cab alongside. 
 He helped Peg into it: then she stretched out her arms 
 and O'Farrell opened the sail-cloths and out sprang 
 '* Michael," dusty and dirty and blear-eyed, but oh ! such 
 a happy, fussy, affectionate, relieved little canine when 
 he saw his beloved owner waiting for him. He made 
 one spring at her, much to the lawyer's dignified amaze- 
 ment, and began to bark at her, and lick her face and 
 hands, and jump on and roll over and over upon Peg in 
 an excess of joy at his release. 
 
 Peg offered O'Farrell an American dollar. She had 
 very little left. 
 
 O'Farrell indignantly refused to take it. 
 
 " Oh, but ye must, indade ye must," cried Peg in dis- 
 tress. " Sure I won't lie aisy to-night if ye don't. But 
 for you poor ' Michael ' here might have been on that 
 place ye spoke of that Quarantine, whatever it is. 
 Ye saved him from that. And don't despise it because 
 it's an American dollar. Sure it has a value all over the 
 wurrld. An' besides I have no English money." Poor 
 Peg pleaded that O'Farrell should take it. He had been 
 so nice to her all the way over. 
 
 Hawkes interposed skilfully, gave O'Farrell five shill- 
 ings ; thanked him warmly for his kindness to Peg and 
 her dog ; returned the dollar to Peg : let her say good-bye 
 to the kindly sailor : told the cabman to drive to a certain
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 155 
 
 railway station, and in a few seconds they were bowling 
 along and Peg had entered a new country and a new 
 life. They reached the railway station and Hawkes pro- 
 cured tickets and in half an hour they were on a train 
 bound for the north of England. 
 
 During the journey Hawkes volunteered no infor- 
 mation. He bought her papers and magazines and of- 
 fered her lunch. This Peg refused. She said the ship 
 had not agreed with her. She did not think she would 
 want food for a long time to come. 
 
 After a while, tired out with the rush and excitement 
 of the ship's arrival, Peg fell asleep. 
 
 In a few hours they reached their destination. 
 Hawkes woke her and told her she was at her journey's 
 end. He again hailed a cab, told the driver where to go 
 and got in with Peg, " Michael " and her luggage. In 
 the cab he handed Peg a card and told her to go to the 
 address written on it and ask the people there to allow 
 her to wait until he joined her. He had a business call 
 to make in the town. He would be as short a time as 
 possible. She was just to tell the people that she had 
 been asked to call there and wait. 
 
 After the cab had gone through a few streets it stopped 
 before a big building; Hawkes got out, told the cabman 
 where to take Peg, paid him, and with some final ad- 
 monitions to Peg, disappeared through the swing-doors 
 of the Town Hall. 
 
 The cabman took the wondering Peg along until he 
 drove up to a very handsome Elizabethan house. There 
 he stopped. Peg looked at the name on the gate-posts 
 and then at the name on the card Mr. Hawkes had given 
 her. They were the same. Once more she gathered up 
 her belongings and her dog and passed in through the 
 gateposts and wandered up the long drive on a tour of
 
 156 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 inspection. She walked through paths dividing rose- 
 beds until she came to some open windows. The main 
 entrance-hall of the house seemed to be hidden away 
 somewhere amid the tall old trees. 
 
 Peg made straight for the open windows and walked 
 into the most wonderful looking room she had ever seen. 
 Everything in it was old and massive ; it bespoke cen- 
 turies gone by in every detail. Peg held her breath as 
 she looked around her. Pictures and tapestries stared 
 at her from the walls. Beautiful old vases were arranged 
 in cabinets. The carpet was deep and soft and stifled 
 all sound. Peg almost gave an ejaculation of surprise 
 at the wonders of the room when she suddenly became 
 conscious that she was not alone in the room : that others 
 were there and that they were talking. 
 
 She looked in the direction the sounds came from and 
 saw to her astonishment, a man with a woman in his 
 arms. He was speaking to her in a most ardent manner. 
 They were partially concealed by some statuary. 
 
 Peg concluded at once that she had intruded on some 
 marital scene at which she was not desired, so she in- 
 stantly sat down with her back to them. 
 
 She tried not to listen, but some of the words came dis- 
 tinctly to her. Just as she was becoming very uncom- 
 fortable and had half made up her mind to leave the 
 room and find somewhere else to wait, she suddenly heard 
 herself addressed, and in no uncertain tone of voice. 
 There was indignation, surprise and anger in Ethel's 
 question : 
 
 " How long have you been here ? " 
 
 Peg turned round and saw a strikingly handsome, 
 beautifully dressed young lady glaring down at her. 
 Her manner was haughty in the extreme. Peg felt most
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 157 
 
 unhappy as she looked at her and did not answer imme- 
 diately. 
 
 A little (distance away was a dark, handsome young 
 man who was looking at Peg with a certain languid in- 
 terest. 
 
 " How long have you been here? " again asked Ethel. 
 
 " Sure I only came in this minnit," said Peg inno- 
 cently and with a little note of fear. She was not ac- 
 customed to fine-looking, splendidly-dressed young ladies 
 like Ethel. 
 
 " What do you want ? " demanded the young lady. 
 
 " Nothin'," said Peg reassuringly. 
 
 " Nothing? " echoed Ethel, growing angrier every mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " Not a thing. I was just told to wait," said Peg. 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " A gentleman," replied Peg. 
 
 " What gentleman ? " asked Ethel sharply and suspi- 
 ciously. 
 
 " Just a gentleman." Peg, after fumbling nervously 
 in her pocket, produced the card Mr. Hawkes had given 
 her, which ** Michael " immediately attempted to take 
 possession of. Peg snatched it away from the dog and 
 handed it to the young lady. 
 
 " He told me to wait there" 
 
 Ethel took the card irritably and read: 
 
 " * Mrs. Chichester, Regal Villa.' And what clo you 
 want with Mrs. Chichester? " she asked Peg, at the same 
 time looking at the shabby clothes, the hungry-looking 
 dog, and the soiled parcel. 
 
 " I don't want anythin' with her. I was just told to 
 wait!" 
 
 " Who are you ? "
 
 158 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Peg was now getting angry too. There was no mis- 
 taking the manner of the proud young lady. Peg chafed 
 under it. She looked up sullenly into Ethel's face and 
 said: 
 
 " I was not to say a wurrd, I'm tellin' ye. I was just 
 to wait." Peg settled back in the chair and stroked 
 *' Michael." This questioning was not at all to her 
 liking. She wished Mr. Hawkes would come and get her 
 out of a most embarrassing position. But until he did 
 she was not going to disobey his instructions. He told 
 her to say nothing, so nothing would she say. 
 
 Ethel turned abruptly to Brent and found that gentle- 
 man looking at the odd little stranger somewhat admir- 
 ingly. She gave an impatient ejaculation and turned 
 back to Peg quickly: 
 
 " You say you have only been here a minute ? " 
 
 " That's all," replied Peg. " Just a minnit." 
 
 " Were we talking when you came in ? " 
 
 " Ye were." 
 
 Ethel could scarcely conceal her rage. 
 
 " Did you hear what we said ? " 
 
 " Some of it. Not much," said Peg. 
 
 "What did you hear?" 
 
 " Please don't it's so hot this mornin'," said Peg 
 with no attempt at imitation just as if she were stat- 
 ing a simple, ordinary occurrence. 
 
 Ethel flushed scarlet. Brent smiled. 
 
 " You refuse to say why you're here or who you are? " 
 Ethel again asked. 
 
 " It isn't me that's refusin'. All the gentleman said 
 to me was, ' Ye go to the place that's written down on 
 the card and ye sit down there an' wait. And that's all 
 ye do.' "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 159 
 
 Ethel again turned to the perplexed Brent : " Eh ? " 
 
 " Extraordinary ! " and Brent shook his head. 
 
 The position was unbearable. Ethel decided instantly 
 how to relieve it. She looked f reezingly down at the for- 
 lorn-looking little intruder and said: 
 
 " The servants' quarters are at the back of the house." 
 
 " Are they?" asked Peg, without moving, and not in 
 any way taking the statement to refer to her. 
 
 " And I may save you the trouble of -waiting by telling 
 you we are quite provided with servants. We do not 
 need any further assistance." 
 
 Peg just looked at Ethel and then bent down over 
 " Michael." Ethel's last shot had struck home. Poor 
 Peg was cut through to her soul. How she longed at 
 that moment to be back home with her father in New 
 York. Before she could say anything Ethel continued: 
 
 " If you insist on waiting kindly do so there." 
 
 Peg took " Michael " up in her arms, collected once 
 more her packages and walked to the windows. Again 
 she heard the cold hard tones of Ethel's voice speaking 
 to her: 
 
 " Follow the path to your right until you come to a 
 door. Knock and ask permission to wait there, and for 
 your future guidance go to the back door of a house and 
 ring, don't walk unannounced into a private room." 
 
 Peg tried to explain: 
 
 "Ye see, ma'am, I didn't know. All the gentleman 
 said was ' Go there and wait ' " 
 
 " That will do." 
 
 " I'm sorry I disturbed yez." And she glanced at the 
 embarrassed Brent. 
 
 " That will do! " said Ethel finally. 
 
 Poor Peg nodded and wandered off through the win-
 
 160 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 dows sore at heart. She went down the path until she 
 reached the door Ethel mentioned. She knocked at it. 
 While she is waiting for admission we will return to the 
 fortunes of the rudely-disturbed lovers ( ?),
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE CHICHESTER FAMILY RECEIVES A SECOND SHOCK 
 
 ETHEL turned indignantly to Brent, as the little figure 
 went off down the path. 
 
 " Outrageous ! " she cried. 
 
 " Poor little wretch." Brent walked to the windows 
 and looked after her. " She's quite pretty." 
 
 Ethel looked understandingly at him: "7* she?" 
 
 " In a shabby sort of way. Didn't you think so? " 
 
 Ethel glared coldly at him. 
 
 " I never notice the lower orders. You apparently 
 iJo." 
 
 " Oh, yes often. They're very interesting at 
 times." He strained to get a last glimpse of the in- 
 truder : 
 
 " Do you know, she's the strangest little appari- 
 tion " 
 
 " She's only a few yards away if you care to follow 
 her ! " 
 
 Her tone brought Brent up sharply. He turned away 
 from the window and found Ethel arms folded, eyes 
 flashing waiting for him. Something in her manner 
 alarmed him. He had gone too far. 
 
 " Why, Ethel," he said, as he came toward her. 
 
 " Suppose my mother had walked in here or Alaric 
 instead of that creature ? Never do such a thing 
 again." 
 
 " I was carried away," he hastened to explain. 
 
 " Kindly exercise a little more restraint. You had 
 
 better go now." There was a finality of dismissal in her 
 
 161
 
 162 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 tone as she passed him and crossed to the great staircase. 
 He followed her: 
 
 " May I call to-morrow ? " 
 
 " No," she answered decidedly. " Not to-morrow." 
 
 " The following day, then," he urged. 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Remember I build on you." 
 
 She looked searchingly at him: 
 
 " I suppose we are worthy of each other." 
 
 Through the open windows came the sound of voices. 
 
 " Go ! " she said imperatively and she passed on up 
 the stairs. Brent went rapidly to the door. Before 
 either he could open it or Ethel go out of sight Alaric 
 burst in through the windows. 
 
 "Hello, Brent," he cried cheerfully. " Disturbin' 
 ye? " And he caught Ethel as she was about to dis- 
 appear: "Or you, Ethel?" 
 
 Ethel turned and answered coolly: 
 
 " You've not disturbed me." 
 
 " I'm just going," said Brent. 
 
 " Well, wait a moment," and Alaric turned to the 
 window and beckoned to someone on the path and in 
 from the garden came Mr. Montgomery Hawkes. 
 
 " Come in," said the energetic Alaric. " Come in. 
 Ethel, I want you to meet Mr. Hawkes Mr. Hawkes 
 my sister. Mr. Brent Mr. Hawkes." Having 
 satisfactorily introduced everyone he said to Ethel: 
 " See if the mater's well enough to come down, like a 
 dear, will ye? This gentleman has come from London 
 to see her. D'ye mind? And come back yourself, too, 
 like an angel. He says he has some business that con- 
 cerns the whole family." 
 
 Ethel disappeared without a word. 
 
 Alaric bustled Hawkes into a chair and then seized the
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 163 
 
 somewhat uncomfortable Brent by an unwilling hand and 
 shook it warmly as he asked: 
 
 " Mu^t you go? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Brent with a sigh of relief. 
 
 Alaric dashed to the door and opened it as though to 
 speed the visitor on his way. 
 
 " So sorry I was out when you called," lied Alaric 
 nimbly. " Run in any time. Always delighted to see 
 you. Delighted. Is the angel wife all well? " 
 
 Brent bowed : " Thank you." 
 
 "And the darling child?" 
 
 Brent frowned. He crossed to the door and turned 
 in the frame and admonished Alaric: 
 
 " Please give my remembrances to your mother." 
 Then he passed out. As he disappeared the irrepres- 
 sible Alaric called after him : 
 
 " Certainly. She'll be so disappointed not to have 
 seen you. Run in any time any time at all." Alaric 
 closed the door and saw his mother and Ethel coming 
 down the stairs. 
 
 All traces of emotion had disappeared from Ethel's 
 face and manner. She was once again in perfect 
 command of herself. She carried a beautiful little 
 French poodle in her arms and was feeding her with 
 sugar. 
 
 Alaric fussily brought his mother forward. 
 
 " Mater, dear," he said ; " I found this gentleman in a 
 rose-bed enquiring the way to our lodge. He's come all 
 the way from dear old London just to see you. Mr. 
 Hawkes my mother." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked at Hawkes anxiously. 
 
 " You have come to see me? " 
 
 " On a very important and a very private family mat- 
 ter," replied Hawkes, gravely.
 
 164 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 *' Important? Private?. " asked Mrs. Chichester in 
 surprise. 
 
 " We're the family, Mr. Hawkes," ventured Alaric, 
 helpfully. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester's forebodings came uppermost. After 
 the news of the bank's failure nothing would surprise her 
 now in the way of calamity. What could this grave, 
 dignified-looking man want with them? Her eyes filled. 
 
 " Is it bad news ? " she faltered. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no," answered Mr. Hawkes, genially. 
 
 " Well is it good news ? " queried Alaric. 
 
 " In a measure," said the lawyer. 
 
 " Then for heaven's sake get at it. You've got me 
 all clammy. We could do with a little good news. Wait 
 a minute ! Is it by any chance about the bank? " 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Hawkes. He cleared his throat 
 and said solemnly and impressively to Mrs. Chichester: 
 
 " It is about your late brother Nathaniel Kings- 
 north." 
 
 " Late ! " cried Mrs. Chichester. " Is Nathaniel 
 dead? " 
 
 " Yes, madam," said Hawkes gravely. " He died ten 
 days ago." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester sat down and silently wept. Na- 
 thaniel to have died without her being with him to com- 
 fort him and arrange things with him! It was most 
 unfortunate. 
 
 Alaric tried to feel sorry, but inasmuch as his uncle 
 had always refused to see him he could not help thinking 
 it may have been retribution. However, he tried to show 
 a fair and decent measure of regret. 
 
 " Poor old Nat," he cried. " Eh, Ethel? " 
 
 " Never saw him," answered Ethel, her face and voice 
 totally without emotion.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 165 
 
 " You say he died ten dajs ago ? " asked Mrs. Chi- 
 chester. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes bowed. 
 
 " Why was I not informed ? The funeral ? " 
 
 " There was no funeral," replied Mr. Hawkes. 
 
 "No funeral?" said Alaric in astonishment. 
 
 " No," replied the lawyer. " In obedience to his writ- 
 ten wishes he was cremated and no one was present 
 except the chief executor and myself. If I may use Mr. 
 Kingsnorth's words without giving pain, he said he so 
 little regretted not having seen any of his relations for 
 the last twenty years of his life-time he was sure they 
 would regret equally little his death. On no account was 
 anyone to wear mourning for him, nor were they to ex- 
 press any open sorrow. ' They wouldn't feel it, so why 
 lie about it? ' I use his own words," added Mr. Hawkes, 
 as if disclaiming all responsibility for such a remarkable 
 point of view. 
 
 " What a rum old bird ! " remarked Alaric, contem- 
 platively. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester wept as she said: 
 
 " He was always the most unfeeling, the most heart- 
 less the most " 
 
 " Now in his will " interrupted the lawyer, produc- 
 ing a leather pocket-book filled with important-looking 
 papers : " In his will " he repeated 
 
 Mrs. Chichester stopped crying: 
 
 "Eh? A will?" 
 
 " What ? " said Alaric, beaming ; u did the dear old 
 gentleman leave a will? " 
 
 Even Ethel stopped playing with " Pet " and listened 
 languidly to the conversation. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes, realising he had theif complete interest, 
 went on importantly :
 
 166 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 " As Mr. Kingsnorth's legal adviser up to the time of 
 his untimely death I have come here to make you ac- 
 quainted with some of its contents." 
 
 He spread a formidable-looking document wide-open 
 on the table, adjusted his pince-nez and prepared to read. 
 
 " Dear old Nat ! " said Alaric reflectively. " Do you 
 remember, mater, we met him at Victoria Station once 
 when I was little more than a baby? Yet I can see him 
 now as plainly as if it were yesterday. A portly, sandy - 
 haired old buck, with three jolly chins." 
 
 " He was whAte toward the end, and very, very thin," 
 said Mr. Hawkes softly. 
 
 "Was he?" from Alaric. "Fancy that. It just 
 shows, mater, doesn't it? " He bent eagerly over the 
 table as Hawkes traced some figures with a pencil on one 
 of the pages of the will. 
 
 "How much did he leave?" And Alaric's voice rose 
 to a pitch of well-defined interest. 
 
 " His estate is valued, approximately, at some two 
 hundred thousand pounds," replied the lawyer. 
 
 Alaric gave a long, low whistle, and smiled a broad, 
 comprehensive smile. 
 
 Ethel for the first time showed a gleam of genuine in- 
 terest. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester began to cry again. " Perhaps it 
 was my fault I didn't see him oftener," she said. 
 
 Alaric, unable to curb his curiosity, burst out with : 
 " How did the old boy split it up? " 
 
 " To his immediate relations he left " Mr. Hawkes 
 looked up from the will and found three pairs of eyes 
 fixed on him. He stopped. It may be that constant as- 
 sociation with the law courts destroys faith in human 
 nature but whatever the cause, it seemed to Mr. 
 Hawkes in each of those eyes was reflected the one dom-
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 16T 
 
 inant feeling- greed. The expression in the family's 
 combined eyeg was astonishing in its directness, its bare- 
 facedness. It struck the dignified gentleman suddenly 
 dumb. 
 
 "Well? Well?" cried Alaric. "How much? Don't 
 stop right in the middle of an important thing like that. 
 You make me as nervous as a chicken." 
 
 Mr. Hawkes returned to the will and after looking at 
 it a moment without reading said: 
 
 " To his immediate relations Mr. Kingsnorth left, I 
 regret to say nothing." 
 
 A momentary silence fell like a pall over the stricken 
 Chichester family. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester rose, indignation flashing from the 
 eyes that a moment since showed a healthy hope. 
 
 " Nothing? " she cried incredulously. 
 
 " Not a penny-piece to anyone ? " ventured Alaric. 
 
 The faintest suspicion of a smile flitted across Ethel's 
 face. 
 
 Hawkes looked keenly at them and answered: 
 
 " I deeply regret to say nothing." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester turned to Ethel, who had begun to 
 stroke *' Pet " again. 
 
 " His own flesh and blood ! " cried the poor lady. 
 
 " What a shabby old beggar ! " commented Alaric, in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 "He was always the most selfish, the most " began 
 Mrs. Chichester, when Mr. Hawkes, who had been turn- 
 ing over the pages of the document before him, gave an 
 ejaculation of relief: 
 
 " Ah ! Here we have it. This, Mrs. Chichester, is 
 how Mr. Kingsnorth expressed his attitude toward his 
 relations in his last will and testament. 
 
 " * I am the only member of the Kingsnorth family who
 
 168 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 ever made any money. All my precious relations either 
 inherited it or married to get it.' ' 
 
 " I assure you " began Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 Alaric checked her : " Half a moment, mater. Let 
 us hear it out to the bitter end. He must have been an 
 amusin' old gentleman ! " 
 
 Mr. Hawkes ^resumed: " * consequently I am not 
 going to leave one penny to relations who are already 
 well-provided for.' ' 
 
 Mrs. Chichester protested vehemently : 
 
 " But we are not provided for." 
 
 " No," added Alaric. " Our bank's bust." 
 
 " We're ruined," sobbed Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Broke ! " said Alaric. 
 
 " We've nothing ! " wailed the old lady. 
 
 " Not thruppence," from the son. 
 
 " Dear, dear," said the lawyer. " How extremely 
 painful." 
 
 "Painful? That's not the word. Disgustin' I call 
 it," corrected Alaric. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes thought a moment. Then he said: 
 " Under those circumstances, perhaps a clause in the will 
 may have a certain interest and an element of relief." 
 
 As two drowning people clinging to the proverbial 
 straws the mother and son waited breathlessly for Mr. 
 Hawkes to go on. 
 
 Ethel showed no interest whatever. 
 
 " When Mr. Kingsnorth realised that he had not very 
 much longer to live he spoke constantly of his other sister 
 Angela," resumed Mr. Hawkes. 
 
 " Angela ? " cried Mrs. Chichester in surprise ; " why, 
 she is dead." 
 
 " That was why he spoke of her," said Hawkes gravely. 
 
 " And not a word of me? " asked Mrs. Chichester.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 169 
 
 " We will come to that a little later," and Mr. Hawkes 
 again referred to the will. " It appears that this sister 
 Angela married at the age of twenty, a certain Irishman 
 by name O'Connell, and was cut off by her family " 
 
 " The man was an agitator a Fenian agitator. He 
 hadn't a penny. It was a disgrace " 
 
 Alaric checked his mother again. 
 
 Hawkes resumed: " was cut off by her family 
 went to the United States of America with her husband, 
 where a daughter was born. After going through many 
 conditions of misery with her husband, who never seemed 
 to prosper, she died shortly after giving birth to the 
 child." He looked up : " Mr. Kingsnorth elsewhere 
 expresses his lasting regret that in one of his sister's 
 acute stages of distress she wrote to him asking him, for 
 the first time, to assist her. He replied : ' You have 
 made your bed ; lie in it.' ' 
 
 " She had disgraced the family. He was justified," 
 broke in Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " With death approaching," resumed Hawkes, " Mr. 
 Kingsnorth's conscience began to trouble him and the 
 remembrance of his treatment of his unfortunate sister 
 distressed him. If the child were alive he wanted to see 
 her. I made inquiries and found that the girl was living 
 with her father in very poor circumstances in the City of 
 New York. We sent sufficient funds for the journey, 
 together with a request to the father to allow her to visit 
 Mr. Kingsnorth in England. The father consented. 
 However, before the young girl sailed Mr. Kingsnorth 
 died." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Alaric, who had been listening intently. 
 " Died, eh? That was too bad. Died before seeing her. 
 Did you let her sail, Mr. Hawkes? " 
 
 " Yes. We thought it best to bring her over here and
 
 170 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 acquaint her with the sad news after her arrival. Had 
 she known before sailing she might not have taken the 
 journey." 
 
 " But what was the use of bringing her over when Mr. 
 Kingsnorth was dead? " asked Alaric. 
 
 " For this reason," replied Hawkes : " Realising that 
 he might never see her, Mr. Kingsnorth made the most 
 remarkable provision for her in his will." 
 
 " Provided for Tier and not for ? " began Mrs. Chi- 
 chester. 
 
 " Here is the provision," continued Mr. Hawkes, again 
 reading from the will : " ' I hereby direct that the sum 
 of one thousand pounds a year be paid to any respectable 
 Trell-connected woman of breeding and family, who will 
 undertake the education and up-bringing of my niece, 
 Margaret O'Connell, in accordance with the dignity and 
 tradition of the Kingsnorths' 
 
 " He remembers a niece he never saw and his own 
 sister " and Mrs. Chichester once more burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " It beats cock-fighting, that's all I can say," cried 
 Alaric. " It simply beats cock-fighting." 
 
 Mr. Hawkes went on reading: " * If at the expiration 
 of one year my niece is found to be, in the judgment of 
 my executors, unworthy of further interest, she is to be 
 returned to her father and the sum of two hundred and 
 fifty pounds a year paid her to provide her with the 
 necessities of life. If, on the other hand, she proves 
 herself worthy of the best traditions of the Kingsnorth 
 family, the course of training is to be continued until 
 she reaches the age of twenty-one, when I hereby bequeath 
 to her the sum of five thousand pounds a year, to be paid 
 her annually out of my estate during her life-time aad to
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 171 
 
 be continued after her death to any male issue she may 
 have by marriage.' ' 
 
 Mr. Hawkes stopped, and once again looked at the 
 strange family. Mrs. Chichester was sobbing : " And 
 me his own sister " 
 
 Alaric was moving restlessly about : " Beats any- 
 thing I've heard of. Positively anything." 
 
 Ethel was looking intently at " Pet's " coat. 
 
 Hawkes continued : " ' On no account is her father 
 to be permitted to visit her, and should the course of 
 training be continued after the first year, she must not 
 on any account visit her father. After she reaches the 
 age of twenty-one she can do as she pleases. 5 '" Mr. 
 Hawkes folded up the will with the air of a man who had 
 finished an important duty. 
 
 Alaric burst out with: 
 
 " I don't see how that clause interests us in the least? 
 Mr. Hawkes." 
 
 The lawyer removed his pince-nez and looking steadily 
 at Mrs. Chichester said: 
 
 " Now, my dear Mrs. Chichester, it was Mr. Kings- 
 north's wish that the first lady to be approached on the 
 matter of undertaking the training of the young lady 
 should be you! " 
 
 Mrs. Chichester rose in astonishment : " I ? " 
 
 Alaric arose in anger: "My mother?" 
 
 Ethel quietly pulled " Pet's " ear and waited. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes went on quietly: 
 
 " Mr. Kingsnorth said, ' he would be sure at least of 
 his niece having a strict up-bringing in the best traditions 
 of the Kingsnorths, and that though his sister Monica 
 was somewhat narrow and conventional in ideas ' I use 
 his own words ' still he felt sure she was eminently
 
 172 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 fitted to undertake such a charge.' There you have 
 the wkole object of my visit. Now will you under- 
 take the training of the young lady ? " 
 
 " I never heard of such a thing ! " cried Mrs. Chi- 
 chester furiously. 
 
 " Ridiculous ! " said Ethel calmly. 
 
 " Tush and nonsense," with which Alaric dismissed 
 the whole matter. 
 
 " Then I may take it you refuse ? " queried the as- 
 tonished lawyer. 
 
 " Absolutely ! " from Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 "Entirely! "from Ethel. 
 
 " I should say so ! " and Alaric brought up the rear. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes gathered up his papers and in a tone of 
 regret ventured : " Then there is nothing more to be 
 said. I was only carrying out the dead man's wishes by 
 coming here and making the facts known to you. Mr. 
 Kingsnorth was of the opinion that you were well 
 provided for and, that, outside of the sentimental reason 
 that the girl was your own niece, the additional thousand 
 pounds a year might be welcome as, say, pin-money for 
 your daughter." 
 
 Ethel laughed her dry, cheerless little laugh. " Ha ! 
 Pin-money ! " 
 
 Alaric grew suddenly grave and drew his mother and 
 sister out of Mr. Hawkes' vicinity. 
 
 " Listen, mater Ethel. It's a cool thousand, you 
 know? Thousands don't grow on raspberry bushes 
 when your bank's gone up. What do ye think, eh ? " 
 
 Mrs. Chichester brightened: 
 
 " It would keep things together," she said. 
 
 " The wolf from the door," urged Alaric. 
 
 " No charity," chimed in Ethel. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked from daughter to son.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 17S 
 
 "Well? What do you think?" 
 
 " Whatever you say, mater," from Alaric. 
 
 " You decide, mamma," from Ethel. 
 
 " We might try it for a while, at least," said Mrs. 
 Chichester. 
 
 " Until we can look around," agreed Alaric. 
 
 " Something may be saved from the wreck," reasoned 
 Mrs. Chichester more hopefully. 
 
 " Until I get really started," said Alaric with a sense 
 of climax. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester turned to her daughter: "Ethel?" 
 
 " Whatever you decide, mamma." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester thought a moment then decided : 
 "I'll do it," she said determinedly. "It will be hard, 
 but I'll do it." She went slowly and deliberately to Mr. 
 Hawkes, who by this time had disposed of all his docu- 
 ments and was preparing to go. A look in Mrs. Chi- 
 chester's face stopped him. He smiled at her. 
 
 "Well?" he asked. 
 
 " For the sake of the memory of my dead sister, I will 
 do as Nathaniel wished," said Mrs. Chichester with great 
 dignity and self-abnegation. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 "Good!" he said. "I'm delighted. It is splendid. 
 Now that you have decided so happily there is one thing 
 more I must tell you. The young lady is not to be told 
 the conditions of the will, unless at the discretion of the 
 executors should some crisis arise. She will be to all 
 intents and purposes your guest. In that way W 
 may be able to arrive at a more exact knowledge of her 
 character. Is that understood? " 
 
 The family signified severally and collectively that it 
 was. 
 
 " And now," beamed the lawyer, happy at the fortu-
 
 174 PEG O> MY HEART 
 
 nate outcome of a situation that a few moments before 
 seemed so strained, " where is your bell? " 
 
 Alaric indicated the bell. 
 
 " May I ring? " asked the lawyer. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Alaric. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes rang. 
 
 Alaric watched him curiously : " Want a sandwich 
 or something? " 
 
 Hawkes smiled benignly on the unfortunate family and 
 rubbed his hands together self-satisfiedly : 
 
 " Now I would like to send for the young lady the 
 heiress." 
 
 "Where is she?" asked Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " She arrived from New York this morning and I 
 brought her straight here. I had to call on a client, so I 
 gave her your address and told her to come here and 
 wait" 
 
 At the word " wait " an uneasy feeling took possession 
 of Ethel. That was the word used by that wretched- 
 looking little creature who had so rudely intruded upon 
 her and Brent. Could it be possible ? 
 
 The footman entered at that moment. 
 
 The lawyer questioned him. 
 
 " Is there a young lady waiting for Mr. Hawkes ? " 
 
 " A young lady, sir? No, sir," answered Jarvis. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes was puzzled. What in the world had 
 become of her? He told the cabman distinctly where to 
 go. 
 
 Jarvis opened the cloor to go out, when a thought sud- 
 denly occurred to him. He turned back and spoke to 
 the lawyer: 
 
 " There's a young person sitting in the kitchen : came 
 up and knocked at the door and said she had to wait 
 until a gentleman called. Can't get nothin' out of her."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 175 
 
 Hawkes brightened up. 
 
 " That must be Miss O'Connell," he said. He turned 
 to Mrs. Chichester and asked her if he might bring the 
 young lady in there. 
 
 " My niece in the kitchen ! " said Mrs. Chichester to 
 the unfortunate footman. " Surely you should know the 
 difference between my niece and a servant ! " 
 
 " I am truly sorry, madam," replied Jarvis in distress, 
 " but there was nothing to tell." 
 
 " Another such mistake and you can leave my employ- 
 ment," Mrs. Chichester added severely. 
 
 Jarvis pleaded piteously: 
 
 " Upon my word, madam, no one could tell." 
 
 " That will do," thundered Mrs. Chichester. " Bring 
 my niece here at once." 
 
 The wretched Jarvis departed on his errand muttering 
 to himself : " Wait until they see her. Who in the 
 world could tell she was their relation." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester was very angry. 
 
 " It's monstrous ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Stoopid ! " agreed Alaric. " Doocid stoopid." 
 
 Ethel said nothing. The one thought that was pass- 
 ing through her mind was : " How much did that girl 
 hear Brent say and how much did she see Mr. Brent do? " 
 
 Hawkes tried to smooth the misunderstanding out. 
 
 " I am afraid it was all my fault," he explained. " I 
 told her not to talk. To just say that she was to wait. 
 I wanted to have an opportunity to explain matters be- 
 fore introducing her." 
 
 " She should have been brought straight to me," com- 
 plained Mrs. Chichester. " The poor thing." Then 
 with a feeling of outraged pride she said : " My niece in 
 the kitchen. A Kingsnorth mistaken for a servant ! " 
 
 The door opened and Jarvis came into the room.
 
 176 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 There was a look of half-triumph on his face as much as 
 to say : " Now who would not make a mistake like that ? 
 Who could tell this girl was your niece? " 
 
 He beckoned Peg to come into the room. 
 
 Then the Chichester family received the second shock 
 they had experienced that day one compared with 
 which the failure of the bank paled into insignificance. 
 When they saw the strange, shabby, red-haired girl slouch 
 into the room, with her parcels and that disgraceful-look- 
 ing dog, they felt the hand of misfortune had indeed fallen 
 upon them.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 PEG MEETS HER AUNT 
 
 As Peg wandered into the room Mrs. Chichester and 
 Alaric looked at her in horrified amazement. 
 
 Ethel took one swift glance at her and then turned her 
 attention to " Pet." 
 
 Jarvis looked reproachfully at Mrs. Chichester as much 
 as to say : " What did I tell you ? " and went out. 
 
 Alaric whispered to his mother: 
 
 " Oh, I say, really, you know it isn't true ! It can't 
 be." 
 
 " Pet " suddenly saw " Michael " and began to bark 
 furiously at him. " Michael " responded vigorously until 
 Peg quieted him. 
 
 At this juncture Mr. Hawkes came forward and, taking 
 Peg gently by the arm, reassured her by saying: 
 
 " Come here, my dear. Come here. Don't be fright- 
 ened. We're all your friends." 
 
 He brought Peg over to Mrs. Chichester, who was 
 staring at her with tears of mortification in her eyes. 
 When Peg's eyes met her aunt's she bobbed a little curtsey 
 she used to do as a child whenever she met a priest or 
 some of the gentle folk. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester went cold when she saw the gauche 
 act. Was it possible that this creature was her sister 
 Angela's child? It seemed incredible. 
 
 " What is your name ? " she asked sternly. 
 
 " Peg, ma'am." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 177
 
 178 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Sure me name's Peg, ma'am," and she bobbed another 
 little curtsey. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester closed her eyes and shivered. She 
 asked Alaric to ring. As that young gentleman passed 
 Ethel on his way to the bell he said : " It can't really 
 be true! Eh, Ethel?" 
 
 " Quaint," was all his sister replied. 
 
 Hawkes genially drew Peg's attention to her aunt by 
 introducing her: 
 
 " This lady is Mrs. Chichester your aunt." Peg 
 looked at her doubtfully a moment then turned to Hawkes 
 and asked him : 
 
 " Where's me uncle ? " 
 
 " Alas I my dear child, your uncle is dead." 
 
 " Dead ! " exclaimed Peg in surprise. " Af ther sendin* 
 forme?" 
 
 " He died just before you sailed," added Hawkes. 
 
 " God rest his soul," said Peg piously. " Sure if I'd 
 known that I'd never have come at all. I'm too late, 
 then. Good day to yez," and she started for the door. 
 
 Mr. Hawkes stopped her. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 " Back to me father." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense." 
 
 " But I must go back to me father if me uncle's 
 dead," 
 
 " It was Mr. Kingsnorth's last wish that you should 
 stay here under your aunt's care. So she has kindly 
 consented to give you a home." 
 
 Peg gazed at Mrs. Chichester curiously. 
 
 " Have yez ? " she asked. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester, with despair in every tone, replied: 
 "I have!" 
 
 " Thank yez," said Peg, bobbing another little curtsey..
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 179 
 
 at which Mrs. Chichester covered her eyes with her hand 
 as if to shut out some painful sight. 
 
 Peg looked at Mrs. Chichester and at the significant 
 action. There was no mistaking its significance. It con- 
 veyed dislike and contempt so plainly that Peg felt it 
 through her whole nature. She turned to Alaric and 
 found him regarding her as though she were some strange 
 animal. Ethel did not deign to notice her. And this 
 was the family her father had sent her over to England 
 to be put in amongst. She whispered to Hawkes : 
 
 " I can't stay here." 
 
 " Why not? " asked the lawyer. 
 
 " I'd be happier with me father," said Peg. 
 
 " Nonsense. You'll be quite happy here. Quite." 
 
 " They don't seem enthusiastic about us, do they ? " 
 and she looked down at " Michael " and up at Hawkes 
 and indicated the Chichester family, who had by this time 
 all turned their backs on her. She smiled a wan, 
 lonely smile, and with a little pressure on " Michael's " 
 back, murmured: " We're not wanted here, ' Michael!' ' 
 
 The terrier looked up at her and then buried his head 
 under her arm as though ashamed. 
 
 Jarvis came in response to the ring at that moment, 
 bearing a pained, martyr-like expression on his face. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester directed him to take away Peg's parcels 
 and the dog. 
 
 Peg frightenedly clutched the terrier. 
 
 " Oh, no, ma'am," she pleaded. " Plaze lave 
 ' Michael ' with me. Don't take him away from me." 
 
 " Take it away," commanded Mrs. Chichester severely, 
 " and never let it inside the house again." 
 
 " Well, if ye don't want him inside yer house ye don't 
 want me inside yer house," Peg snapped back. 
 
 Hawkes interposed. " Oh, come, come, Miss O'Connell,
 
 180 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 you can see the little dog whenever you want to," and he 
 tried to take " Michael " out of her arms. " Come, let 
 me have him." 
 
 But Peg resisted. She was positive when she said : 
 
 " No, I won't give him up. I won't. I had a hard 
 enough time gettin' him ashore, I did." 
 
 Hawkes pleaded again. 
 
 " No ! " said Peg firmly. " I imU not give him up. 
 And that's all there is about it." 
 
 The lawyer tried again to take the dog from her: 
 " Come, Miss O'Connell, you really must be reasonable." 
 
 " I don't care about being reasonable," replied Peg. 
 * Michael ' was given to me by me father an' he's not 
 very big and he's not a watchdog, he's a pet dog and 
 
 look " She caught sight of Ethel's little poodle 
 
 and with a cry of self- justification, she said: 
 
 " See, she has a dog in the house right here in the 
 house. Look at it ! " and she pointed to where the little 
 ball of white wool lay sleeping on Ethel's lap. Then Peg 
 laughed heartily : " I didn't know what it was until it 
 moved" 
 
 Peg finally weakened under Mr. Hawkes' powers of 
 persuasion and on the understanding that she could see 
 him whenever she wanted to, permitted the lawyer to 
 take '* Michael " out of her arms and give him to the 
 disgusted footman, who held him at arm's length in 
 mingled fear and disgust. 
 
 Then Hawkes took the bag and the parcels and handed 
 them also to Jarvis. One of them burst open, disclosing 
 her father's parting gifts. She kept the rosary and the 
 miniature, and wrapping up the others carefully she 
 placed them on the top of the other articles in the out- 
 raged Jarvis 's arms, and then gave him her final in June-
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 181 
 
 tions. Patting " Michael " on the head she said to the 
 footman : 
 
 " Ye won't hurt him, will ye? " " Michael " at that 
 stage licked her hand and whined as though he knew they 
 were to be separated. Peg comforted him and went on : 
 " And I'd be much obliged to ye if ye'd give him some 
 wather and a bone. He loves mutton bones." 
 
 Jarvis, with as much dignity as he could assume, con- 
 sidering that he had one armful of shabby parcels and 
 the other hand holding at arm's length a disgraceful look- 
 ing mongrel, went out, almost on the verge of tears. 
 
 Peg looked down and found Alaric sitting at a desk 
 near the door staring at her in disgust. 
 
 He was such a funny looking little fellow to Peg that 
 she could not feel any resentment toward him. His sleek 
 well-brushed hair; his carefully creased and admirably- 
 ccut clothes ; his self-sufficiency ; and above all his absolute 
 assurance that whatever he did was right, amused Peg 
 immensely. He was an entirely new type of young man 
 to her and she was interested. She smiled at him now 
 in a friendly way and said : " Ye must know ' Micliael ' 
 is simply crazy about mutton. He loves mutton." 
 
 Alaric turned indignantly away from her. Peg fol- 
 lowed him up. He had begun to fascinate her. She 
 looked at his baby-collar with a well-tied bow gleaming 
 from the centre ; at his pointed shoes ; his curious, little, 
 querulous look. He was going to be good fun for Peg. 
 She wanted to begin at once. And site would have too, 
 had not the icy accents of Mrs. Chichester interrupted 
 Peg's plans for the moment. 
 
 " Come here," called Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 Peg walked over to her and when she got almost be- 
 side the old lady she turned to have another glimpse at
 
 182 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Alaric and gave him a little, chuckling, good-natured 
 laugh. 
 
 " Look at me!" commanded Mrs. Chichester sternly. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," replied Peg, with a little curtsey. 
 Mrs. Chichester closed her eyes for a moment. What 
 was to be done with this barbarian? Why should this 
 affliction be thrust upon her? Then she thought of the 
 thousand pounds a year. She opened her eyes and 
 looked severely at Peg. 
 
 " Don't call me ' ma'am '/ " she said. 
 
 " No, ma'am," replied Peg nervously, then instantly 
 corrected herself: " No, ant! No, ant! *' 
 
 " Awnt! " said Mrs. Chichester haughtily. " Aunt. 
 Not ant." 
 
 Alaric commented to Ethel: 
 
 " Ant! Like some little crawly insect." 
 
 Peg heard him, looked at him and laughed. He cer- 
 tainly was odd. Then she looked at Ethel, then at Mr. 
 Hawkes, then all round the room as if she missed some- 
 one. Finally she faced Mrs. Chichester again. 
 
 "Are you me Uncle Nat's widdy?" 
 
 " No, I am not," contradicted the old lady sharply. 
 
 " Then how are you me aunt? " demanded Peg. 
 
 " I am your mother's sister," replied Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Oh! " cried Peg. " Then your name's Monica? " 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " What do ye think of that? " said Peg under her 
 breath. She surreptitiously opened out the miniature 
 and looked at it, then she scrutinised her aunt. She 
 shook her head. 
 
 " Ye don't look a bit like me poor mother did." 
 
 " What have you there? " asked Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Me poor mother's picture," replied Peg softly. 
 
 " Let me see it ! " and Mrs. Chichester held out her
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 18 
 
 hand for it. Peg showed it to Mrs. Chichester, all the 
 while keeping a jealous hold on a corner of the frame. 
 No one would ever take it away from her. The old lady 
 looked at it intently. Finally she said: 
 
 " She had changed very much since I last saw her 
 and in one year." 
 
 " Sorrow and poverty did that, Aunt Monica," and 
 the tears sprang unbidden into Peg's eyes. 
 
 " Aunt will be quite sufficient. Put it away," and 
 Mrs. Chichester released the miniature. 
 
 Peg hid it immediately in her bosom. 
 
 M Sit down," directed the old lady in the manner of a 
 judge preparing to condemn a felon. 
 
 Peg sprawled into a chair with a great sigh of relief. 
 
 " Thank ye, ant aunt,'* she said. Then she looked 
 at them all alternately and laughed heartily: 
 
 " Sure I had no idea in the wurrld I had such fine 
 relations. Although of course my father often said to 
 me, * Now, Peg,' he would say, * now, Peg, ye've got some 
 grand folks on yer mother's side ' " 
 
 " Folks ! Really Ethel ! " cried Alaric disgustedly. 
 
 " Yes, that's what he said. Grand folks on me moth- 
 er's side." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester silenced Peg. 
 
 " That will do. Don't sprawl in that way. Sit up. 
 Try and remember where you are. Look at your 
 cousin," and the mother indicated Ethel. Peg sat up 
 demurely and looked at Ethel. She chuckled to herself 
 as she turned back to Mrs. Chichester: 
 
 " Is she me cousin ? " 
 
 " She is," replied the mother. 
 
 " And 7 am too," said Alaric. " Cousin Alaric." 
 
 Peg looked him all over and laughed openly. Then 
 she turned to Ethel again, and then looked all around the
 
 184* PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 room and appeared quite puzzled. Finally she asked 
 Mrs. Chichester the following amazing question : 
 
 " Where's her husband ? " 
 
 Ethel sprang to her feet. The blow was going to 
 fall. She was to be disgraced before her family by that 
 beggar-brat. It was unbearable. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester said in astonishment : " Her 'hus- 
 band? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Peg insistently. " I saw her husband 
 when I came in here first. I've been in this room before, 
 ye know. I came in through those windows and I saw 
 her and her husband, she was " 
 
 " What in heaven's name does she mean? " cried 
 Alaric. 
 
 Peg persisted : " I tell ye it was she sent me to the 
 kitchen she and him." 
 
 "Him? Who in the world does she mean?" from 
 Alaric. 
 
 "To whom does she refer, Ethel?" from Mrs. Chi- 
 chester. 
 
 " Mr. Brent," said Ethel with admirable self-control. 
 She was on thin ice, but she must keep calm. Nothing 
 may come out yet if only she can sflence that little chat- 
 terbox. 
 
 Alaric burst out laughing. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked relieved. 
 
 Peg went on: 
 
 " Sure, she thought I was a servant looking for a place 
 and Mr. Hawkes told me not to say a word until he came 
 and I didn't say a word " 
 
 Mr. Hawkes now broke in and glancing at his watch 
 said: 
 
 " My time is short. Miss O'Connell, it was your 
 uncle's wish that you should make your home here with
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 185 
 
 Mrs. Chichester. She will give you every possible ad- 
 vantage to make you a happy, well-cared for, charming 
 young lady." 
 
 Peg laughed. 
 
 "Lady? Me? Sure now" 
 
 The lawyer went on: 
 
 " You must do everything she tells you. Try and 
 please her in all things. On the first day of every 
 month I will call and find out what progress you're mak- 
 ing." 
 
 He handed Mrs. Chichester a card: 
 
 " This is my business address should you wish to com- 
 municate with me. And now I must take my leave." 
 He picked up his hat and cane from the table. 
 
 Peg sprang up breathlessly and frightenedly. Now 
 that Mr. Hawkes was going she felt deserted. He had 
 at least been gentle and considerate to her. She tugged 
 at his sleeve and looked straight up into his face with her 
 big blue eyes wide open and pleaded: 
 
 " Plaze, sir, take me with ye and send me back to New 
 York. I'd rather go home. Indade I would. I don't 
 want to be a lady. I want me father. Plaze take me 
 with you." 
 
 " Oh come come " Mr. Hawkes began. 
 
 " I want to go back to me father. Indade I do." 
 Her eyes filled with tears. " He mightn't like me to stay 
 here now that me uncle's dead." 
 
 " Why, it was your uncle's last wish that you should 
 come here. Your father will be delighted at your good 
 fortune." He gently pressed her back into the chair 
 and smiled pleasantly and reassuringly down at her. 
 
 Just when he had negotiated everything most satis- 
 factorily to have Peg endeavour to upset it all was most 
 disturbing. He went on again:
 
 186 
 
 " Your aunt will do everything in her power to make 
 you feel at home. Won't you, Mrs. Chichester? " 
 
 " Everything ! " said Mrs. Chichester, as if she were 
 walking over her own grave. 
 
 Peg looked at her aunt ruefully: her expression was 
 
 . most forbidding : at Ethel's expressive back ; lastly at 
 
 Alaric fitting a cigarette into a gold-mounted holder. 
 
 Her whole nature cried out against them. She made 
 
 one last appeal to Mr. Hawkes : 
 
 " Do send me back to me father ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Miss O'Connell. You would not 
 disappoint your father in that way, would you? Wait 
 for a month. I'll call on the first and I expect to hear 
 only the most charming things about you. Now, good- 
 bye," and he took her hand. 
 
 She looked wistfully up at him: 
 
 " Good-bye, sir. And thank ye very much for bein* 
 so kind to me." 
 
 Hawkes bowed to Mrs. Chichester and Ethel and went 
 to the door. 
 
 " Have a cab ? " asked Alaric. 
 
 " No, thank you," replied the lawyer. " I have no 
 luggage. Like the walk. Good-day," and Peg's only 
 friend in England passed out and left her to face this 
 terrible English family alone. 
 
 " Your name is Margaret," said Mrs. Chichester, as 
 the door closed on Mr. Hawkes. 
 
 " No, ma'am " Peg began, but immediately corrected 
 herself ; " no, aunt I beg your pardon no aunt 
 my name is Peg," cried she earnestly. 
 
 " That is only a corruption. We will call you Mar- 
 garet," insisted Mrs. Chichester, dismissing the subject 
 once and for all.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 187 
 
 But Peg was not to be turned so lightly aside. She 
 stuck to her point. 
 
 " I wouldn't know myself as Margaret indade I 
 wouldn't. I might forget to answer to the name of Mar- 
 garet." She stopped her pleading tone and said de- 
 terminedly : " My name is Peg." Then a little softer 
 and more plaintively she added : " Me father always 
 calls me Peg. It would put me in mind of me father if 
 you'd let me be called Peg, aunt." She ended her plea 
 with a little yearning cry. 
 
 " Kindly leave your father out of the conversation," 
 snapped the old lady severely. 
 
 " Then it's all I will lave him out of ! " cried Peg, 
 springing up and confronting the stately lady of the 
 house. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester regarded her in astonishment and 
 anger. 
 
 " No temper, if you please," and she motioned Peg to 
 resume her seat. 
 
 Poor Peg sat down, breathing hard, her fingers locking 
 and unlocking, her staunch little heart aching for the 
 one human being she was told not to refer to. 
 
 This house was not going to hold her a prisoner if her 
 father's name was to be slighted or ignored ; on that point 
 she was determined. Back to America she would go if 
 her father's name was ever insulted before her. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester's voice broke the silence: 
 
 " You must take my daughter as your model in all 
 things." 
 
 Peg looked at Ethel and all her anger vanished tem- 
 porarily. The idea of taking that young lady as a 
 model appealed to her as being irresistibly amusing. She 
 smiled broadly at Ethel.
 
 188 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Mrs. Chichester went on: 
 
 " Everything my daughter does you must try and imi- 
 tate. You could not have a better example. Mould 
 yourself on her." 
 
 " Imitate her, is it? " asked Peg innocently with a 
 twinkle in her eye and the suggestion of impishness in 
 her manner. 
 
 " So far as lies in your power," replied Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 A picture of Ethel struggling in Brent's arms sud- 
 denly flashed across Peg, and before she could restrain 
 herself she had said in exact imitation of her cousin: 
 
 " Please don't ! It is so hot this morning ! " 
 
 Then Peg laughed loudly to Ethel's horror and Mrs. 
 Chichester's disgust. 
 
 " How dare you 1 " cried her aunt. 
 
 Peg looked at her a moment, all the mirth died away. 
 
 " Mustn't I laugh in this house ? " she asked. 
 
 " You have a great deal to learn." 
 
 " Yes, aunt." 
 
 "Your education will begin to-morrow." 
 
 " Sure that will be foine," and she chuckled. 
 
 " No levity, if you please," said her aunt severely. 
 
 " No, aunt." 
 
 " Until some decent clothes can be procured for you 
 we will find some from my daughter's wardrobe." 
 
 " Sure I've a beautiful dhress in me satchel I go to 
 Mass in on Sundays. It's all silk, and " 
 
 Mrs. Chichester stopped her: 
 
 "That will do. Ring, Alaric, please." 
 
 As Alaric walked over to press the electric button he 
 looked at Peg in absolute disgust and entire disapproval. 
 Peg caught the look and watched him go slowly across 
 the room. He had the same morbid fascination for her 
 that some uncanny elfish creature might have. If only
 
 'Sure that thing could never be President of the 
 United States"
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 189 
 
 her father could see him ! She mentally decided to sketch 
 Alaric and send it out to her father with a full descrip- 
 tion of him. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester again demanded her attention. 
 
 " You must try and realise that you have an oppor- 
 tunity few girls in your position are ever given. I only 
 hope you will try and repay our interest and your late 
 uncles wishes by obedience, good conduct and hard 
 study." 
 
 " Yes, aunt," said Peg demurely. Then she added 
 quickly : " I hope ye don't mind me not having worn 
 me silk dress, but ye see I couldn't wear it on the steamer 
 it 'ud have got all wet. Ye have to wear yer thrav- 
 ellin' clothes when ye're thravellin'. " 
 
 " That will do," said Mrs. Chichester sharply. 
 
 " Well, but I don't want ye to think me father doesn't 
 buy me pretty clothes. He's very proud of me, an' I am 
 of him an' " 
 
 " That will do," commanded Mrs. Chichester as Jarvis 
 came in reply to the bell. 
 
 " Tell Bennett to show my niece to the Mauve Room 
 and to attend her," said Mrs. Chichester to the footman. 
 Then turning to Peg she dismissed her. 
 
 Go with him." 
 
 " Yes, aunt," replied Peg. " An' I am goin' to thry 
 and do everythin ye want me to. I will, indade I will." 
 
 Her little heart was craving for some show of kind- 
 ness. If she was going to stay there she would make the 
 best of it. She would make some friendly advances to 
 them. She held her hand out to Mrs. Chichester: 
 
 " I'm sure I'm very grateful to you for taking me to 
 live with yez here. An' me father will be too. But ye 
 see it's all so strange to me here, an' I'm so far away 
 an' I miss me father so much.""
 
 190 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Mrs. Chichester, ignoring the outstretched hand, 
 stopped her peremptorily: 
 
 " Go with him ! " and she pointed up the stairs, on the 
 first landing of which stood the portly Jarvis waiting to 
 conduct Peg out of the family's sight. 
 
 Peg dropped a little curtsey to Mrs. Chichester, smiled 
 at Ethel, looked loftily at Alaric, then ran up the stairs 
 and, following the footman's index finger pointing the 
 way, she disappeared from Mrs. Chichester's unhappy 
 gaze. 
 
 The three tortured people looked at each other in dis- 
 may. 
 
 " Awful ! " said Alaric. 
 
 " Terrible I " agreed Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 "Dreadful!" nodded Ethel. 
 
 " It's our unlucky day, mater ! " added Alaric. 
 
 " One thing is absolutely necessary," Mrs. Chichester 
 went on to say, " she must be kept away from every one 
 for the present." 
 
 " I should say so ! " cried Alaric energetically. Sud- 
 denly he ejaculated: "Good Lord! Jerry! He 
 mustn't see her. He'd laugh his head off at the idea of 
 my having a relation like her. He'll probably run in to 
 lunch." 
 
 " Then she must remain in her room until he's gone," 
 said Mrs. Chichester, determinedly. " I'll go into town 
 now and order some things for her and see about tutors. 
 She must be taught and at once." 
 
 " Why put up with this annoyance at all ? " asked 
 Ethel, for the first time showing any real interest. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester put her arm around Ethel and a gentle 
 look came into her eyes as she said : 
 
 " One thousand pounds a year that is the reason 
 and rather than you or Alaric should have to make any
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 191 
 
 sacrifice, dear, or have any discomfort, I would put up 
 with worse than that." 
 
 Ethel thought a moment before she replied reflectively : 
 
 " Yes, I suppose you would. I wouldn't," and she 
 went up the stairs. When she was little more than half 
 way up Alaric, who had been watching her nervously, 
 called to her: 
 
 " Where are you off to, Ethel? " 
 
 She looked down at him and a glow, all unsuspected, 
 came into her eyes and a line of colour ran through her 
 cheeks, and there was an unusual tremor in her voice, 
 as she replied: 
 
 " To try to make up my mind, if I can, about some- 
 thing. The coming of Peg may do it for me." 
 
 She went on out of sight. 
 
 Alaric was half-inclined to follow her. He knew she 
 was taking their bad luck to heart withal she said so lit- 
 tle. He was really quite fond of Ethel in a selfish, broth- 
 erly way. But for the moment he decided to let Ethel 
 worry it out alone while he would go to the railway sta- 
 tion and meet his friend's train. He called to his mother 
 as she passed through the door: 
 
 " Wait a minute, mater, and I'll go with you as far 
 as the station-road and see if I can head Jerry off. His 
 train is almost due if it's punctual." 
 
 He was genuinely concerned that his old chum should 
 not meet that impossible little red-headed Irish heathen 
 whom an unkind fate had dropped down in their midst. 
 
 At the hall-door Mrs. Chichester told Jarvis that her 
 niece was not to leave her room without permission. 
 
 As Mrs. Chichester and Alaric passed out they little 
 dreamt that the same relentless fate was planning still 
 further humiliations for the unfortunate family and 
 through the new and unwelcome addition to it.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JEEB.T 
 
 PEG was shown by the maid, Bennett, into a charming 
 old-world room overlooking the rose garden. Every- 
 thing about it was in the most exquisite taste. The 
 furniture was of white and gold, the vases of Sevres, a 
 few admirable prints on the walls and roses everywhere. 
 
 Left to her reflections, poor Peg found herself wonder- 
 ing how people, with so much that was beautiful around 
 them, could live and act as the Chichester family appar- 
 ently did. They seemed to borrow nothing from their 
 once illustrious and prosperous dead. They were, it 
 would appear, only concerned with a particularly near 
 present. 
 
 The splendour of the house awed the narrowness of 
 the people irritated her. What an unequal condition of 
 things where such people were endowed with so much 
 of the world's goods, while her father had to struggle all 
 his life for the bare necessities ! 
 
 She had heard her father say once that the only value 
 money had, outside of one's immediate requirements, was 
 to be able to relieve other people's misery : and that if we 
 just spent it on ourselves money became a monster that 
 stripped life of all happiness, all illusion, all love and 
 made it just a sefish mockery of a world! 
 
 How wonderfully true her father's diagnosis was ! 
 
 Here was a family with everything to make them happy 
 yet none of them seemed to breathe a happy breath, 
 think a happy thought, or know a happy hour. 
 
 The maid had placed Peg's scanty assortment of ar- 
 
 192
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 193 
 
 tides on the dressing-table. They looked so sadly out 
 of place amid the satin-lined boxes and perfumed draw- 
 ers that Peg felt another momentary feeling of shame. 
 Since her coming into the house she had experienced a 
 series of awakenings. She sturdily overcame the feeling 
 and changed her cheap little travelling suit for one of 
 the silk dresses her father had bought her in New York. 
 By the time she had arranged her hair with a big pink 
 ribbon and put on the precious brown silk garment she 
 began to feel more at ease. After all, who were they to 
 intimidate her? If she did not like the house and the 
 people, after giving them a fair trial, she would go back 
 to New York. Very much comforted by the reflection 
 and having exhausted all the curious things in the little 
 Mauve-Room she determined to see the rest of the house. 
 
 At the top of the stairs she met the maid Ben- 
 nett. 
 
 " Mrs. Chichester left word that you were not to leave 
 your room without permission. I was just going to tell 
 you," said Bennett. 
 
 All Peg's independent Irish blood flared up. What 
 would she be doing shut up in a little white-and-gold room 
 all day? She answered the maid excitedly: 
 
 " Tell Mrs. CJii-ster I am not goin' to do anythin' of 
 the kind. As long as I stay in this house I'll see every 
 bit of it ! " and she swept past the maid down the stairs 
 into the same room for the third time. 
 
 " You'll only get me into trouble," cried the maid. 
 
 " No, I won't. I wouldn't get you into trouble for 
 the wurrld. I'll get all the trouble and I'll get it now." 
 Peg ran across, opened the door connecting with the hall 
 and called out at the top of her voice: 
 
 " Aunt ! Cousins ! Aunt ! Come here, I want to tell 
 ye about meself I "
 
 194 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " They've all gone out," said the maid quickly. 
 
 " Then what are ye makin' such a fuss about ? You 
 go out too." 
 
 She watched the disappointed Bennett leave the room 
 and then began a tour of inspection. She had never seen 
 se many strange things outside of a museum. 
 
 Fierce men in armour glared at her out of massive 
 frames : old gentlemen in powdered wigs smiled pleasantly 
 at her ; haughty ladies in breath-bereaving coiffures stared 
 superciliously right through her. She felt most uncom- 
 fortable in such strange company. 
 
 She turned from the gallery and entered the living 
 room. Everything about it was of the solid Tudor days 
 and bespoke, even as the portraits, a period when the 
 family must have been of some considerable importance. 
 She wandered about the room touching some things tim- 
 idly others boldly. For example on the piano she 
 found a perfectly carved bronze statuette of Cupid. She 
 gave a little elfish cry of delight, took the statuette in 
 her arms and kissed it. 
 
 " Cupid ! me darlin'. Faith, it's you that causes all 
 the mischief in the wurrld, ye divil ye ! " she cried. 
 
 All her depression vanished. She was like a child 
 again. She sat down at the piano and played the simple 
 refrain and sang in her little girlish tremulous voice, one 
 of her father's favourite songs, her eyes on Cupid: 
 
 " Oh ! the days are gone when Beauty bright 
 
 My heart's charm wove! 
 
 When my dream of life, from morn till night, 
 Was love, still love! 
 New hope may bloom, 
 And days may come, 
 Of milder, calmer beam,
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 195 
 
 But there's nothing half so sweet in life 
 
 As Love's young dream ! 
 No, there's nothing half so sweet in life 
 
 As Love's young dream." 
 
 As she let the last bars die away and gave Cupid a lit- 
 tle caress, and was about to commence the next verse a 
 vivid flash of lightning played around the room, followed 
 almost immediately by a crash of thunder. 
 
 Peg cowered down into a deep chair. 
 
 All the laughter died from her face and the joy in her 
 heart. She made the sign of the cross, knelt down and 
 prayed to Our Lady of Sorrows. 
 
 By this time the sky was completely leaden in hue and 
 the rain was pouring down. 
 
 Again the darkening room was lit up by a vivid forked 
 flash and the crash of the thunder came instantly. The 
 storm was immediately overhead. Peg closed her eyes, 
 as she did when a child, while her lips moved in prayer. 
 
 Into the room through the window came a young man, 
 his coat-collar turned up, rain pouring from his hat; in- 
 side his coat was a terrified-looking dog. The man came 
 well into the room, turning down the collar of his coat; 
 and shaking the moisture from his clothes, when he sud- 
 denly saw the kneeling figure of Peg. He looked down at 
 her in surprise. She was intent on her prayers. 
 
 "Hello!" cried the young man. "Frightened, eh?" 
 
 Peg looked up and saw him staring down at her with a 
 smile on his lips. Inside his coat was her precious little 
 dog, trembling with fear. The terrier barked loudly 
 when he saw his mistress. Peg sprang up, clutched 
 " Michael " away from the stranger, just as another 
 blinding flash played around the room followed by a 
 deafening report.
 
 196 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Peg ran across to the door shouting : " Shut it out ! 
 Shut it out ! " She stood there trembling, covering her 
 eyes with one hand, with the other she held on to the 
 overjoyed " Michael," who was whining with glee at see- 
 ing her again. 
 
 The amazed and amused young man closed the win- 
 dows and the curtains. Then he moved down toward 
 Peg. 
 
 " Don't come near the dog, sir. Don't come near it ! " 
 She opened a door and found it led into a little reception 
 room. She fastened " Michael " with a piece of string 
 to a chair in the room and came back to look again at 
 the stranger, who had evidently rescued her dog from the 
 storm. He was a tall, bronzed, athletic-looking, broad 
 shouldered young man of about twenty-six, with a pleas- 
 ant, genial, magnetic manner and a playful humour lurk- 
 ing in his eyes. 
 
 As Peg looked him all over she found that he was 
 smiling down at her. 
 
 " Does the dog belong to you? " he queried. 
 
 " What were you doin' with him ? " she asked in re- 
 
 " 1 found him barking at a very high-spirited mare." 
 
 " Mare? " cried Peg. " Where? " 
 
 " Tied to the stable-door." 
 
 "The stable-door? Is that where they put 
 'Michael'?" Once again the lightning flashed vividly 
 and the thunder echoed dully through the room. 
 
 Peg shivered. 
 
 The stranger reassured her. 
 
 " Don*t be frightened. It's only a summer storm." 
 
 " Summer or winter, they shrivel me up," gasped Peg. 
 
 The young man walked to the windows and drew back 
 the curtains.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 197 
 
 " Come and look at it," he said encouragingly. 
 " They're beautiful in this part of the country. Come 
 and watch it." 
 
 " I'll not watch it ! " cried Peg. " Shut it out ! " 
 
 Once more the young man closed the curtains. 
 
 Peg looked at him and said in an awe-struck voice: 
 
 " They say if ye look at the sky when the lightnin* 
 comes ye can see the Kingdom of Heaven. An' the sight 
 of it blinds some and kills others accordin' to the state 
 of grace ye're in.' 
 
 "You're a Catholic?" said the stranger. 
 
 " What else would I be ? " asked Peg in surprise. 
 
 Again the lightning lit the room and, after some sec- 
 onds, came the deep rolling of the now distant thunder. 
 
 Peg closed her eyes again and shivered. 
 
 " Doesn't it seem He is angry with us for our sins ? '* 
 she cried. 
 
 " With me, perhaps not with you," answered the 
 stranger. 
 
 " What do ye mane by that ? " asked Peg. 
 
 " You don't know what sin is," replied the young man. 
 
 " And who may you be to talk to me like that ? " de- 
 manded Peg. 
 
 " My name is Jerry," said the stranger. 
 
 " Jerry? " and Peg looked at him curiously. 
 
 "Yes. What is yours?" 
 
 " Peg ! " and there was a sullen note of fixed determi- 
 nation in her tone. 
 
 " Peg, eh ? " and the stranger smiled. 
 
 She nodded and looked at him curiously. What a 
 strange name he had Jerry! She had never heard 
 such a name before associated with such a distinguished- 
 looking man. She asked him again slowly to make cer- 
 tain she had heard aright.
 
 198 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 " Jerry, did ye say ? " 
 
 " Just plain Jerry," he answered cheerfully. " And 
 you're Peg." 
 
 She nodded again with a quick little smile : " Just 
 plain Peg." 
 
 " I don't agree with you," said the young man. " I 
 think you are very charming." 
 
 " Ye mustn't say things like that with the thundher 
 and lightnin' outside," answered Peg, frowning. 
 
 " I mean it," from the man who called himself 
 " Jerry." 
 
 " No, ye don't mane it," said Peg positively. " The 
 man who manes them things never sez them. My father 
 always told me to be careful of the fellow that sez flat- 
 therm' things right to yer face. ' He's no good, Peg, 9 
 my father sez ; * He's no good. 5 ' 
 
 Jerry laughed heartily. 
 
 " Your father is right, only his doctrine hardly ap- 
 plies in this instance. I didn't mean it as flattery. Just 
 a plain statement of fact." 
 
 After a pause he went on : " Who are you ? " 
 
 " I'm me aunt's niece," replied Peg, looking at him 
 furtively. 
 
 Jerry laughed again. 
 
 " And who is your, aunt? " 
 
 "Mrs. Chi-ster." 
 
 "Whom?" 
 
 Poor Peg tried again at the absurd tongue-tying name. 
 
 " My aunt is Mrs. Chi-sister." 
 
 " Mrs. Chichester? " asked Jerry in surprise. 
 
 " That's it," said Peg. 
 
 " How extraordinary ! " 
 
 " Isn't it? Ye wouldn't expect a fine lady like her to 
 have a niece like me, would ye ? "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 199 
 
 " That isn't what I meant," corrected Jerry. 
 
 " Yes, it is what ye meant. Don't tell untruths with 
 the storm ragin' outside," replied Peg. 
 
 " I was thinking that I don't remember Alaric ever 
 telling me that he had such a charming cousin." 
 
 " Oh, do you know Alaric ? " asked Peg with a quick 
 smile. 
 
 " Very well," answered Jerry. 
 
 Peg's smile developed into a long laugh. 
 
 " And why that laugh ? " queried Jerry. 
 
 " I'd like me father to see Alaric. I'd like him just to 
 see Alaric for one minnit." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "Yes, indade. Ye know Alaric, do ye? isn't it 
 funny how the name suits him? Alaric! there are very 
 few people a name like that would get along with but 
 it fits him all right doesn't it ? Well, he didn't know 
 I was alive until I dropped down from the clouds this 
 mornin'." 
 
 " Where did you drop from ? " 
 
 " New York." 
 
 "Really? How odd." 
 
 " Not at all. It's nearly as big as London and there's 
 nothin' odd about New York." 
 
 " Were you born there ? " asked Jerry. 
 
 " I was," answered Peg. 
 
 "By way of old Ireland, eh?" 
 
 " How did ye guess that ? " queried Peg, not quite cer- 
 tain whether to be pleased or angry. 
 
 " Your slight but delightful accent," replied Jerry. 
 
 "Accent is it?" and Peg looked at him in astonish- 
 ment. " Sure I've no accent. I just speak naturally. 
 It's you have the accent to my way of thinkin'." 
 
 " Really ? " asked the amused Jerry.
 
 200 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Peg imitated the young man's well-bred, polished tone : 
 
 "Wah ye bawn theah? " 
 
 Jerry laughed immoderately. Who was this extraor- 
 dinary little person? was the one thought that was in 
 his mind. 
 
 " Plow would you say it? " he asked. 
 
 " I'd say it naturally. I would say : ' Were ye borrn 
 there? ' I wouldn't twist the poor English language any 
 worse than it already is." 
 
 Peg had enough of the discussion and started off on 
 another expedition of discovery by standing on a chair 
 and examining some china in a cabinet. 
 
 Jerry turned up to the windows and drew back the 
 curtains, threw the windows wide open and looked up at 
 the sky. It was once more a crystal blue and the sun 
 was shining vividly. 
 
 He called to Peg : " The storm is over. The air is 
 clear of electricity. All the anger has gone from the 
 heavens. See? " 
 
 Peg said reverently : " Praise be to God for that." 
 
 Then she went haphazardly around the room examin- 
 ing everything, sitting in various kinds of chairs, on the 
 sofa, smelling the flowers and wherever she went Jerry 
 followed her, at a little distance. 
 
 * Are you going to stay here ? " he reopened the con- 
 versation with. 
 
 " Mebbe I will and mebbe I won't," was Peg's some- 
 what unsatisfactory answer. 
 
 " Did your aunt send for you ? " 
 
 " No me uncle." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " Yes, indade ; me Uncle Nat." 
 
 " Nat? "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 201 
 
 " Nathaniel Kingsnorth rest his soul." 
 
 " Nathaniel Kingsnorth ! " cried Jerry in amazement. 
 
 Peg nodded. 
 
 " Sleepin' in his grave, poor man." 
 
 " Why, then you're Miss Margaret O'Connell? " 
 
 " I am. How did ye know ihatl " 
 
 " I was with your uncle when he died." 
 
 "Were ye?" 
 
 " He told me all about you." 
 
 " Did he ? Well, I wish the poor man 'ud ha' lived. 
 An' I wish he'd a' thought o' us sooner. He with all his 
 money an' me father with none, an' me his sister's only 
 child." 
 
 " What does your father do ? " 
 
 Peg took a deep breath and answered eagerly. She 
 was on the one subject about which she could talk freely 
 all she needed was a good listener. This strange man, 
 unlike her aunt, seemed to be the very person to talk to 
 on the one really vital subject to Peg. She said breath- 
 lessly : 
 
 " Sure me father can do anythin' at all except make 
 money. An' when he does make it he can't kape it. 
 He doesn't like it enough. Nayther do I. We've never 
 had very much to like, but we've seen others around us 
 with plenty an' faith we've been the happiest that we 
 have." 
 
 She only stopped to take breath before on she went 
 again : 
 
 " There have been times when we've been most starvin', 
 but me father never lost his pluck or his spirits. Nay- 
 ther did I. When times have been the hardest I've never 
 heard a word of complaint from me father, nor seen a 
 frown on his face. An' he's never used a harsh word to
 
 202 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 me in me life. Sure we're more like boy and girl together 
 than father and daughther." Her eyes began to fill 
 and her voice to break: 
 
 " An' I'm sick for the sight of him. An' I'm sure he is 
 for me for his * Peg o' my Heart,' as he always calls 
 me." 
 
 She covered her eyes as the tears trickled down through 
 her fingers. Under her breath Jerry heard her say- 
 ing: 
 
 " I wish I was back home so I do." 
 
 He was all compassion in a moment. Something in 
 the loneliness and staunchness of the little girl appealed 
 to him. 
 
 " Don't do that," he said softly, as he felt the moisture 
 start into his own eyes. 
 
 Peg unpinned her little handkerchief and carefully 
 wiped away her tears and just as carefully folded the 
 handkerchief up again and pinned it back by her side. 
 
 " I don't cry often," she said. " Me father never 
 made me do it. I never saw him cry but twice in his life 
 once when he made a little money and we had a Mass 
 said for me mother's soul, an' we had the most beautiful 
 candles on Our Lady's altar. He cried then, he did. 
 And when I left him to come here on the ship. And 
 then only at the last minnit. He laughed and j oked with 
 me all the time we were together but when the ship 
 swung away from the dock he just broke down and cried 
 like a little child. * My Peg ! ' he kep' sayin' ; ' My 
 little Peg! ' I tell ye I wanted to jump off that ship an* 
 go back to him but we'd started an' I don't know 
 how to swim." 
 
 How it relieved her pent-up feelings to talk to some 
 one about her father! Already she felt she had known 
 Jerry for years. In a moment she went on again:
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 203 
 
 " I cried meself to sleep that night, I did. An' many 
 a night, too, on that steamer. 
 
 " I didn't want to come here that I didn't. I only 
 did it to please me father. He thought it 'ud be for me 
 good. 
 
 " An' I wish I hadn't come that I do. He's missin' 
 me every minnit an' I'm missin' him. An' I'm not 
 goin' to be happy here, ayther. 
 
 " I don't want to be a lady. An' they won't make me 
 one ayther if I can help it. ' Ye can't make a silk purse 
 out of a sow's ear,' that's what me father always said. 
 An' that's what I am. I'm a sow's ear." 
 
 She stopped, her eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 Jerry was more than moved at this entirely human and 
 natural outbreak. It was even as looking into some 
 one's heart and brain and hearing thoughts spoken aloud 
 and seeing the nervous workings of the heart. When 
 she described herself in such derogatory terms, a smile of 
 relief played on Jerry's face as he leaned over to her 
 and said: 
 
 " I'm afraid I cannot agree with you." 
 
 She looked up at him and said indifferently : " It 
 doesn't make the slightest bit of difference to me whether 
 ye do or not. That's what I am. I'm a sow's ear." 
 
 He reasoned with her: 
 
 " When the strangeness wears off you'll be very 
 happy." 
 
 " Do yez know the people here the Chi-sters ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. Very well." 
 
 " Then what makes ye think I'll be happy among 
 them?" 
 
 " Because you'll know that you're pleasing your 
 father." 
 
 " But I'm all alone."
 
 204 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 " You're among friends." 
 
 Peg shook her head and said bitterly : " No, I'm not. 
 They may be me relations, but they're not me friends. 
 They're ashamed of me." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " interrupted Jerry. 
 
 " Oh, yes," contradicted Peg. " I tell ye they are 
 ashamed of me. They sent me to the kitchen when I 
 first came here. And now they put * Michael ' to slape 
 in the stable. I want ye to understand * Michael ' is not 
 used to that. He always sleeps with me father." 
 
 She was s unexpected that Jerry found himself on 
 the verge of tears one moment, and the next something she 
 would say, some odd look or quaint inflection would com- 
 pel his laughter again. He had a mental picture of 
 " Michael," the pet of Peg's home, submitting to the in- 
 dignity of companionship with mere horses. Small 
 wonder he was snapping at Ethel's mare, when Jerry 
 discovered him. 
 
 He turned again to Peg and said: 
 
 " When they really get to know you, Miss O'Connell, 
 they will be just as proud of you as your father is as 
 I would be." 
 
 Peg looked at him in whimsical astonishment: 
 " You'd be? Why should you be proud of me? " 
 
 " I'd be more than proud if you'd look on me as your 
 friend." 
 
 " A friend is it ? " cried Peg warily. " Sure I don't 
 know who you are at all," and she drew away from him. 
 She was on her guard. Peg made few friends. Friend- 
 ship to her was not a thing to be lightly given or ac- 
 cepted. Why, this man, calling himself by the outlandish 
 name of " Jerry," should walk in out of nowhere, and 
 offer her his friendship, and expect her to jump at it, 
 puzzled her. It also irritated her. Who was he?
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 205 
 
 Jerry explained: 
 
 " Oh, I can give you some very good references. 
 For instance, I went to the same college as your cousin 
 Alaric." 
 
 Peg looked at him in absolute disdain. 
 
 "Did ye?" she said. "Well, I'd mention that to 
 very few people if I were you," and she walked away 
 from him. He followed her. 
 
 " Don't you want me to be your friend? " 
 
 " Sure I don't know," Peg answered quickly. " I'm 
 like the widdy's pig that was put into a rale bed to sleep. 
 It nayther wanted it, nor it didn't want it. The pig 
 had done without beds all its life, and it wasn't cryin' its 
 heart out for the loss of somethin' it had never had and 
 couldn't miss." 
 
 Jerry laughed heartily at the evident sincerity of the 
 analogy. 
 
 Peg looked straight at him : " I want to tell ye that's 
 one thing that's in yer favour," she said. 
 
 "What is?" asked Jerry. 
 
 " Sure, laughter is not dead in you, as it is in every 
 one else in this house." 
 
 Whilst Jerry was still laughing, Peg suddenly joined 
 in with him and giving him a playful slap with the back 
 of her hand, asked him : 
 
 "Who are ye at all?" 
 
 " No one in particular," answered Jerry between gasps. 
 
 " I can see that," said Peg candidly. " I mean what 
 do ye do ? " 
 
 " Everything a little and nothing really well," Jerry 
 replied. " I was a soldier for a while : then I took a 
 splash at doctoring: read law: civil-engineered in South 
 America for a year: now I'm farming." 
 
 " Farming? " asked Peg incredulously.
 
 206 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Yes. I'm a farmer." 
 
 Peg laughed as she looked at the well-cut clothes, the 
 languid manner and easy poise. 
 
 " It must be mighty hard on the land and cattle to have 
 you farmin' them," she said. 
 
 " It is," and he too laughed again. " They resent 
 my methods. I'm a new farmer." 
 
 " Faith ye must be." 
 
 " To sum up my career I can do a whole lot of things 
 fairly well and none of them well enough to brag about." 
 
 " Just like me father," she said interestedly. 
 
 " You flatter me," he replied courteously. 
 
 Peg thought she detected a note of sarcasm. She 
 turned on him fiercely: 
 
 " I know I do. There isn't a man in the whole wurrld 
 like me father. Not a man in the wurrld. But he says 
 he's a rollin' stone and they don't amount to much in a 
 hard-hearted wurrld that's all for makin' dollars," 
 
 " Your father is right," agreed Jerry. " Money is 
 the standard to-day and we're all valued by it." 
 
 " And he's got none," cried Peg. Thoughts were 
 coming thick and fast through her little brain. To 
 speak of her father was to want to be near him. And she 
 wanted him there now for that polished, well-bred gen- 
 tleman to see what a wonderful man he was. She sud- 
 denly said: 
 
 " Well, he's got me. I've had enough of this place. 
 I'm goin' home now." She started up the staircase lead- 
 ing to the Mauve Room. 
 
 Jerry called after her anxiously: 
 
 "No, no! Miss O'Connell. Don't go like that." 
 
 " I must," said Peg from the top of the stairs. 
 " What will I get here but to be laughed at and j eered 
 at by a lot of people that are not fit to even look at me
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 207 
 
 father. Who are they I'd like to know that I mustn't 
 speak his name in their presence? I love me father and 
 sure it's easier to suffer for the want of food than the 
 want of love ! " 
 
 Suddenly she raised one hand above her head and in 
 the manner and tone of a public-speaker she astounded 
 Jerry with the following outburst: 
 
 " An' that's what the Irish are doin' all over the 
 wurrld. They're driven out of their own country by 
 the English and become wandherers on the face of the 
 earth and nothin' they ever earn'll make up to them for 
 the separation from their homes and their loved ones ! " 
 She finished the peroration on a high note and with a 
 forced manner such as she had frequently heard on the 
 platform. 
 
 She smiled at the astonished Jerry and asked him: 
 
 " Do ye know what that is ? " 
 
 " I haven't the least idea," he answered truthfully. 
 
 " That's out of one of me father's speeches. Me 
 father makes grand speeches. He makes them in the 
 Cause of Ireland." 
 
 "Oh, really! In the Cause of Ireland, eh?" said 
 Jerry. 
 
 " Yes. He's been strugglin' all his life to make Ire- 
 land free to get her Home Rule, ye know. But the 
 English are so ignorant. They think they know more 
 than me father. If they'd do what me father tells them 
 sure there'd be no more throuble in Ireland at all." 
 
 " Really ? " said Jerry, quite interestedly. 
 
 " Not a bit of throuble. I wish me father was here to 
 explain it to ye. He could tell ye the whole thing in a 
 couple of hours. I wish he were here now just to give 
 you an example of what fine speakin' really is. Do you 
 like speeches ? "
 
 208 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Very much sometimes," replied Jerry, guardedly. 
 
 " Me father is wondherful on a platform with a lot o' 
 people in front of him. He's wondherful. I've seen him 
 take two or three hundred people who didn't know they 
 had a grievance in the wurrld the poor cratures 
 they were just contented to go on bein' ground down and 
 trampled on and they not knowing a thing about it 
 I've seen me father take that crowd and in five minutes 
 afther he had started spakin' to them ye wouldn't know 
 they were the same people. They were all shoutin' at 
 once, and they had murther in their eye and it was blood 
 they were afther. They wanted to reform somethin' 
 they weren't sure what but they wanted to do it 
 an' at the cost of life. Me father could have led them 
 anywhere. It's a wondherful power he was. And mag- 
 netism. He just looks at the wake wuns an' they wilt. 
 He turns to the brave wuns and they're ready to face 
 cannon-balls for him. He's a born leader that's what 
 he is, a born leader I " She warmed to her sub j ect : she 
 was on her hobby-horse and she would ride it as far as 
 this quiet stranger would let her. She went on again : 
 
 " Ye know the English government are very much 
 frightened of me father. They are indade. They put 
 him in prison once before I was born. They were 
 so afraid of him they put him in prison. I wish ye could 
 see him ! " she said regretfully. 
 
 " I am sure I wish I could with all my heart. You 
 have really aroused my keenest interest," said Jerry, 
 gravely. " He must be a very remarkable man," he 
 added. 
 
 " That's what he is," agreed Peg warmly. " An' a 
 very wondherful lookin' man, too. He's a big, upstandin' 
 man, with gold hair goin' grey, an' a flashin' eye an' a 
 great magnetic voice. Everybody sez 't's the magnetism
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 in him that makes him so dangerous. An' he's as bold 
 as a lion. He isn't frightened of anybody. He'll 
 say anything right to your face. Oh, I wish ye could 
 just meet him. He's not afraid to make any kind of a 
 speech whether it's right or not, so long as it's for the 
 ' Cause.' Do yez like hearin' about me father? " she 
 asked Jerry suddenly, in case she was tiring him al- 
 though how any one could be tired listening to the de- 
 scription of her Hero she could not imagine. 
 
 Jerry hastened to assure her that he was really most 
 interested. 
 
 " I am not botherin' ye listening am I ? " 
 
 " Not in the least," Jerry assured her again. 
 
 " Well, so long as yer not tired I'll tell ye some more. 
 Ye know I went all through Ireland when I was a child 
 with me father in a cart. An' the police and the con- 
 stabulary used to follow us about. They were very 
 frightened of me father, they were. They were grand 
 days for me. Ye know he used to thry his speeches on me 
 first. Then I'd listen to him make them in public. I 
 used to learn them when I'd heard them often enough. I 
 know about fifty. I'll tell ye some of them if I ever see 
 ye again. Would ye like to hear some of them? " 
 
 " Very much indeed," answered Jerry. 
 
 " Well, if I stay here ye must come some time an' I'll 
 tell ye them. But it is not the same hearin' me that it is 
 hearin' me father. Ye've got to see the flash of his eye 
 an' hear the big sob in his voice, when he spakes of his 
 counthry, to ralely get the full power o' them. I'll do 
 me best for ye, of course. 
 
 " Ye're English, mebbe?" she asked him suddenly. 
 
 " I am," said Jerry. He almost felt inclined to apolo- 
 gise. 
 
 " Well, sure that's not your fault. Ye couldn't help
 
 210 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 it. No one should hold that against ye. We can't all 
 be born Irish." 
 
 " I'm glad you look at it so broad-mindedly," said 
 Jerry. 
 
 " Do ye know much about Ireland? " asked Peg. 
 
 " Very little, I'm ashamed to say," answered Jerry. 
 
 " Well, it would be worth yer while to learn somethin' 
 about it," said Peg. 
 
 " I'll make it my business to," he assured her. 
 
 " It's God country, is Ireland. And it's many a tear 
 He must have shed at the way England mismanages it. 
 But He is very lenient and patient with the English. 
 They're so slow to take notice of how things really are. 
 And some day He will punish them and it will be through 
 the Irish that punishment will be meted out to them." 
 She had unconsciously dropped again into her father's 
 method of oratory, climaxing the speech with all the 
 vigour of the rising inflection. She looked at Jerry, her 
 face aglow with enthusiasm. 
 
 " That's from another of me father's speeches. Did 
 ye notice the way he ended it ? ' through the Irish that 
 punishment will be meted out to them ! ' I think * meted 
 out ' is grand. I tell you me father has the most won- 
 dherful command of language." 
 
 She stood restlessly a moment, her hands beating each 
 other alternately. 
 
 " I get so lonesome for him," she said. 
 
 Suddenly with a tone of definite resolve in her voice 
 she started up the stairs, calling over her shoulder: 
 
 " I'm goin' back to him now. Good-bye ! " and she 
 ran all the way upstairs. 
 
 Jerry followed her pleading insistently : 
 
 " Wait ! Please wait ! "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down 
 at him: 
 
 " Give us one month's trial one month ! " he urged. 
 *' It will be very little out of your life and I promise 
 you your father will not suffer through it except in los- 
 ing you for that one little month. Will you? Just a 
 month?" 
 
 He spoke so earnestly and seemed so sincerely pained 
 and so really concerned at her going, that she came down 
 a few steps and looked at him irresolutely : 
 
 " Why do you want me to stay ? " she asked him. 
 
 " Because because your late uncle was my friend. 
 It was his last wish to do something for you. Will- you? 
 Just a month? " 
 
 She struggled with the desire to go away from all that 
 was so foreign and distasteful to her. Then she looked 
 at Jerry and realised, with something akin to a feeling of 
 pleasure, that he was pleading with her to stay, and do- 
 ing it in such a way as to suggest that it mattered to 
 him. She had to admit to herself that she rather liked 
 the look of him. He seemed honest, and even though 
 he were English he did show an interest whenever she 
 spoke of her father and he had promised to try and learn 
 something about Ireland. That certainly was in his 
 favour just as the fact that he could laugh was, too. 
 
 Quickly the thoughts ran hot-foot through Peg's 
 brain: After all to run away now would look cowardly. 
 Her father would be ashamed of her. This stuck-up 
 family would laugh at her. That thought was too much. 
 The very suggestion of Alaric laughing at her caused 
 a sudden rush of blood to her head. Her temples 
 throbbed. Instantly she made up her mind. 
 
 She would stay. Turning to Jerry, she said :
 
 212 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " All right, then. I'll stay a month. But not any 
 more than a month, though ! " 
 
 " Not unless you wish it." 
 
 " I won't wish it I promise ye that. One month'll 
 be enough in this house. It's goin' to seem like a life- 
 time." 
 
 " I'm glad," said Jerry, smiling. 
 
 " Ye're glad it's goin' to seem like a life-time ? " 
 
 " No, no ! " he corrected her hastily ; " I am glad you're 
 going to stay." 
 
 " Well, that's a comfort anyway. Some one'll be 
 pleased at me stayin'." And she came down the stairs 
 and walked over to the piano again. 
 
 Jerry followed her: 
 
 " I am immensely." 
 
 " All right. Ye've said it ! " replied Peg, looking up 
 and finding him standing beside her. She moved away 
 from him. Again he followed her: 
 
 " And will you look on me as your friend ? " 
 
 This time she turned away abruptly. She did not 
 like being followed about by a man she had only just met. 
 
 " There's time enough for that," she said, and went 
 across to the windows. 
 
 "Is it so hard?" pleaded Jerry, again following her. 
 
 " I don't know whether it's hard or aisy until I thry 
 it." 
 
 " Then try," urged Jerry, going quite close to her. 
 
 She faced him : " I never had anyone makin' such a 
 fuss about havin' me for a friend before. I don't under- 
 stand you at all." 
 
 " Yet I'm very simple," said Jerry. 
 
 " I don't doubt ye," Peg answered drily. " From what 
 I've heard of them most of the English are simple." 
 
 He laughed and held out his hand.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 " What's that for? " she asked suspiciously. 
 
 " To our friendship." 
 
 " I never saw the likes of you in all me life." 
 
 " Come Peg." 
 
 " I don't think it's necessary." 
 
 " Come ! " 
 
 She looked into his eyes: They were fixed upon her. 
 Without quite knowing why she found herself giving him 
 her hand. 
 
 He grasped it firmly. 
 
 " Friends, Peg? " " 
 
 " Not yet now," she answered half defiantly, half 
 frightenedly. 
 
 " I'll wager we will be." 
 
 " Don't put much on it, ye might lose." 
 
 " I'll stake my life on it," 
 
 " Ye don't value it much, then." 
 
 " More than I did. May you be very happy amongst 
 us, Peg." 
 
 A door slammed loudly in the distance. Peg distinctly 
 heard her aunt's voice and Alaric's. In a moment she 
 became panic-stricken. She made one bound for the 
 stairs and sprang up them three at a time. At the top 
 she turned and warned him: 
 
 " Don't tell any one ye saw me." 
 
 " I won't," promised the astonished young man. 
 
 But their secret was to be short-lived. 
 
 As Peg turned, Ethel appeared at the top of the stairs 
 and as she descended, glaring at Peg, the unfortunate 
 girl went down backwards before her. At the same mo- 
 ment Mrs. Chichester and Alaric came in through the 
 door. 
 
 They all greeted Jerry warmly. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester was particularly gracious.
 
 " So sorry we were out. You will stay to lunch? " 
 
 " It is what I came for," replied Jerry heartily. He 
 slipped his arm through Alaric's and led him up to the 
 windows : 
 
 " Why, Al, your cousin is adorable ! " he said en- 
 thusiastically. 
 
 " What? " Alaric gasped in horror. " You've met 
 her? " 
 
 " Indeed I have. And we had the most delightful time 
 together. I want to see a great deal of her while she's 
 here." 
 
 "You're joking?" remarked Alaric cautiously. 
 
 " Not at all. She has the frank honest grip on life 
 that I like better than anything in mankind or woman- 
 kind. She has made me a convert to Home Rule al- 
 ready." 
 
 The luncheon-gong sounded in the distance. Alaric 
 hurried to the door: 
 
 " Come along, every one ! Lunch ! " 
 
 "Thank goodness," cried Jerry, joining him. "I'm 
 starving." 
 
 Peg came quietly from behind the newell post, where 
 she had been practically hidden, and went straight to 
 Jerry and smiling up at him, her eyes dancing with 
 amusement, said: 
 
 " So am I starvin' too. I've not had a bite since 
 six." 
 
 " Allow me," and Jerry offered her his arm. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester quickly interposed. 
 
 " My niece is tired after her journey. She will lunch 
 in her room." 
 
 "Oh, but I'm not a bit tired," ejaculated Peg anx- 
 iously. " I'm not tired at all, and I'd much rather have 
 lunch down here with Mr. Jerry."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 215 
 
 The whole family were aghast. 
 
 Ethel looked indignantly at Peg. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester ejaculated: "What?" 
 
 Alaric, almost struck dumb, fell back upon : " Well, 
 I mean to say ! " 
 
 " And you shall go in with Mr. Jerry," said that young 
 gentleman, slipping Peg's arm through his own. Turn- 
 ing to Mrs. Chichester he asked her : " With your per- 
 mission we will lead the way. Come Peg," and he led 
 her to the door and opened it. 
 
 Peg looked up at him, a roguish light dancing in her 
 big expressive eyes. 
 
 " Thanks. I'm not so sure about that wager of yours. 
 I think yer life is safe. I want to tell ye ye've saved 
 mine." She put one hand gently on her little stomach 
 and cried : " I am so hungry me soul is hangin' by a 
 thread." 
 
 Laughing gaily, the two new-found friends went in 
 search of the dining-room. 
 
 The Chichester family looked at each other. 
 
 It seemed that the fatal first day of June was to be 
 a day of shocks. 
 
 " Disgraceful ! " ventured Ethel. 
 
 " Awful ! " said the stunned Alaric. 
 
 " She must be taken in hand and at once ! " came in 
 firm tones from Mrs. Chichester. " She must never be 
 left alone again. Come quickly before she can disgrace 
 us any further to-day." 
 
 The unfortunate family, following in the wake of Peg 
 and Jerry, found them in the dining-room chattering to- 
 gether like old friends. He was endeavouring to persuade 
 Peg to try an olive. She yielded just as the family 
 arrived. She withdrew the olive in great haste and turn- 
 ing to Jerry said:
 
 216 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Faith, there's nothin' good about it but it's colour ! " 
 In a few moments she sat down to the first formal meal 
 in the bosom of the Chichester family.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE PASSING OF THE FIRST MONTH 
 
 THE days that followed were never-to-be-forgotten 
 ones for Peg. Her nature was in continual revolt. The 
 teaching of her whole lifetime she was told to correct. 
 Everything she said, everything she looked, everything 
 she did was wrong. 
 
 Tutors were engaged to prepare her for the position 
 she might one day enjoy through her dead uncle's will. 
 They did not remain long. She showed either marked 
 incapacity to acquire the slightest veneer of culture 
 else it was pure wilfulness. 
 
 The only gleams of relief she had were on the occasions 
 when Jerry visited the family. Whenever they could 
 avoid Mrs. Chichester's watchful eyes they would chat 
 and laugh and play like children. She could not under- 
 stand him he was always discovering new traits in her. 
 They became great friends. 
 
 Her letters to her father were, at first, very bitter, re- 
 garding her treatment by the family. Indeed so resent- 
 ful did they become that her father wrote to her in reply 
 urging her, if she was so unhappy, to at once return to 
 him on the next steamer. But she did not. Little by 
 little the letters softened. Occasionally, toward the end 
 of that first month they seemed almost contented. Her 
 father marvelled at the cause. 
 
 The month she had promised to stay was drawing to 
 an end. But one more day remained. It was to be a 
 memorable one for Peg. 
 
 Jerry had endeavoured at various times to encourage 
 
 217
 
 218 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 her to study. He would question her, and chide her and 
 try to stimulate her. One day he gave her a large, 
 handsomely-bound volume and asked her to read it at odd 
 times and he would examine her in it when she had mas- 
 tered its contents. She opened it wonderingly and found 
 it to be " Love Stories of the World." 
 
 It became Peg's treasure. She kept it hidden from 
 every one in the house. She made a cover for it out of 
 a piece of cloth so that no one could see the ornate bind- 
 ing. She would read it at night in her room, by day 
 out in the fields or by the sea. But her favourite time 
 and place was in the living-room, every evening after 
 dinner. She would surround herself with books a 
 geography, a history of England, a huge atlas, a treatise 
 on simple arithmetic and put the great book in the cen- 
 tre, making of it an island the fount of knowledge. 
 Then she would devour it intently until some one dis- 
 turbed her. The moment she heard anyone coming she 
 would cover it up quickly with the other books and pre- 
 tend to be studying. 
 
 The book was a revelation to her. It gave all her 
 imagination full play. Through its pages treaded a 
 stately procession of Kings and Queens Wagnerian 
 heroes and heroines: Shakespearian creations, melodi- 
 ous in verse ; and countless others. It was indeed a treas- 
 ure-house. It took her back to the lives and loves of the 
 illustrious and passionate dead, and it brought her for 
 the first time to the great fount of poetry and genius. 
 
 Life began to take on a different aspect to her. 
 
 All her rebellious spirit would soften under the spell 
 of her imagination; and again all her dauntless spirit 
 would assert itself under the petty humiliations the 
 Chichester family frequently inflicted upon her. 
 
 Next to Mrs. Chichester she saw Alaric the most.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 219 
 
 Although she could not actively dislike the little man 
 her first feeling of amusement wore off. He simply 
 bored her now. He was no longer funny. He seemed 
 of so little account in the world. 
 
 She saw but little of Ethel. They hardly spoke when 
 they met. 
 
 All through the month Christian Brent was a frequent 
 visitor. 
 
 If Peg only despised the Chichesters she positively 
 loathed Brent, and with a loathing she took no pains to 
 conceal. 
 
 On his part, Brent would openly and covertly show 
 his admiration for her. Peg was waiting for a really 
 good chance to find out Mr. Brent's real character. The 
 opportunity came. 
 
 On the night of the last day of the trial-month, Peg 
 was in her favourite position, lying face downward on a 
 sofa, reading her treasure, when she became conscious of 
 some one being in the room watching her. She started 
 up in a panic instinctively hiding the book behind her. 
 She found Brent staring down at her in open admiration. 
 Something in the intentness of his gaze caused her to 
 spring to her feet. He smiled a sickly smile. 
 
 "The book must be absorbing. What is it?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Peg faced him, the book clasped in both of her hands 
 behind her back ; her eyes flashing and her heart throb- 
 bing. Brent looked at her with marked appreciation : 
 
 "You mustn't be angry, child. What is it? Eh? 
 Something -forbidden? " and he leered knowingly at her. 
 Then he made a quick snatch at the book, saying: 
 
 " Show it me ! " 
 
 Peg ran across the room and turning up a corner of 
 the carpet, put the book under it, turned back the car-
 
 220 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 pet, put her foot determinedly on it and turned again to 
 face her tormentor. 
 
 Brent went rapidly across to her. The instinct of the 
 chase was quick in his blood. 
 
 " A hiding-place, eh ? Now you make me really cu- 
 rious. Let me see." He again made a movement to- 
 ward the hidden book. 
 
 Peg clenched both of her hands into little fists and 
 glared at Brent, while her breath came in quick, sharp 
 gasps. She was prepared to defend the identity of the 
 book at any cost. 
 
 " I love spirit ! " cried Brent. 
 
 Then he looked at her charming dress ; at her stylish 
 coiffure ; at the simple spray of flowers at her breast. He 
 gave an ejaculation of pleasure. 
 
 " What a wonderful change in a month. You most 
 certainly would not be sent to the kitchen now. Do you 
 know you have grown into a most attractive young lady? 
 You are really delightful angry. And you are angry, 
 aren't you? And with me, eh? I'm so sorry if I've of- 
 fended you. Let us kiss and be friends." He made an 
 impulsive movement toward her and tried to take her in 
 his arms. Peg gave him a resounding box on the ear. 
 With a muffled ejaculation of anger and of pain he at- 
 tempted to seize her by the wrists, when the door opened 
 and Ethel came into the room. 
 
 Peg, panting with fury, glared at them both for a mo- 
 ment and then hurried out through the windows. 
 
 Brent, gaining complete control of himself, turned to 
 Ethel and, advancing with outstretched hands, murmured : 
 
 " My dear ! " 
 
 Ethel looked coldly at him, ignored the extended hands 
 and asked: 
 
 " Why did she run away ? "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 221 
 
 Brent smiled easily and confidently: 
 
 " I'd surprised one of her secrets and she flew into a 
 temper. Did you see her strike me? " He waited anx- 
 iously for her reply. 
 
 " Secrets? " was all Ethel said. 
 
 " Yes. See." He walked across to the corner and 
 turned back the carpet and kneeling down searched for 
 the book, found it and held it up triumphantly: 
 " Here ! " He stood up, and opened the book and read 
 the title-page: 
 
 " ' Love Stories of the World.' To Peg from Jerry.' 
 Oho ! " cried Mr. Brent. " Jerry ! Eh ? No wonder she 
 didn't want me to see it." 
 
 He put the book back into its hiding-place and ad- 
 vanced to Ethel: 
 
 " Jerry ! So that's how the land lies. Romantic lit- 
 tle child!" 
 
 Ethel looked steadily at him as he came toward her. 
 Something in her look stopped him within a few feet of 
 her. 
 
 " Why don't you go after her ? " and she nodded in the 
 direction Peg had gone. 
 
 " Ethel ! " he cried, aghast. 
 
 " She is new and has all the virtues." 
 
 " I assure you " he began 
 
 " You needn't. If there is one thing I am convinced 
 of, it's your assurance." 
 
 " Really Ethel " 
 
 *' Were you ' carried away ' again ? " she sneered. 
 
 " Do you think for one moment ? " he stopped. 
 
 " Yes, I do," answered Ethel positively. 
 
 Brent hunted through his mind for an explanation. 
 Finally he said helplessly: 
 
 " I I don't know what to say."
 
 222 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Then you'd better say nothing." 
 
 " Surely you're not jealous of a a child? " 
 
 " No. I don't think it's jealousy," said Ethel slowly. 
 
 " Then what is it? " he asked eagerly. 
 
 She looked scornfully at him: 
 
 " Disgust ! " She shrugged her shoulders contemptu- 
 ously as he tried in vain to find something to say. Then 
 she went on: 
 
 " Now I understand why the scullery is sometimes the 
 rival of the drawing-room. The love of change ! " 
 
 He turned away from her. He was hurt. Cut to the 
 quick. 
 
 " This is not worthy of you ! " was all he said. 
 
 "That is what rankles," replied Ethel. "It isn't. 
 You're not." 
 
 " Ethel ! " he cried desperately. 
 
 " If that ever happened again I should have to ampu- 
 tate you." 
 
 Brent walked over to the window-seat where he had 
 left his automobile coat and cap and picked them up. 
 
 Ethel watched him quietly. 
 
 " Chris ! Come here ! " 
 
 He turned to her. 
 
 " There 1 It's over ! I suppose I have been a little 
 hard on you. All forgotten? " She held out her hand. 
 He bent over it. 
 
 " My nerves have been rather severely tried this past 
 month," Ethel went on. " Put a mongrel into a kennel of 
 thoroughbreds, and they will either destroy the intruder 
 or be in a continual condition of unsettled, irritated in- 
 tolerance. That is exactly my condition. I'm unsettled, 
 irritable and intolerant." 
 
 Brent sat beside her and said softly: 
 
 " Then I've come in time ? "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 223 
 
 Ethel smiled as she looked right through him: 
 
 " So did I, didn't I? " and she indicated the window 
 through which Peg ran after assaulting Brent. 
 
 The young man sprang up reproachfully: 
 
 " Don't ! Please don't ! " he pleaded. 
 
 " Very well," replied Ethel complacently, " I won't." 
 
 Brent was standing, head down, his manner was crest- 
 fallen. He looked the realisation of misery and self-pity. 
 
 " I'm sorry, Chris," remarked Ethel finally, after some 
 moments had passed. " A month ago it wouldn't have 
 mattered so much. Just now it does. I'd rather 
 looked forward to seeing you. It's been horrible here." 
 
 " A month of misery for me, too," replied Brent, pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 " I'm going away out of it. To-morrow ! " he 
 addec\ 
 
 " Are you ? " she asked languidly. " Where ? " 
 
 " Petersburg Moscow Siberia " 
 
 " Oh I The cold places." She paused, then asked : 
 " Going alone? " He knelt on the sofa she was sitting 
 on and whispered almost into her ear: 
 
 " Unless someone goes * with me ! " 
 
 " Naturally," replied Ethel, quite unmoved. 
 
 " Will you go? " And he waited breathlessly. 
 
 She thought a moment, looked at him again, and said 
 quietly : " Chris ! I wish I'd been here when you called 
 instead of that brat." 
 
 He turned away up again to the window-seat crying: 
 " Oh ! This is unbearable." 
 
 Ethel said quite calmly: " Is it? Your wife all over 
 again, eh? " 
 
 He came back to her: "No. I place you far above 
 her, far above all petty suspicions and carping narrow- 
 nesses. I value you as a woman of understanding."
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I am," she said frankly. " From what you've told 
 me of your wife, she must be too." 
 
 " Don't treat me like this ! " he pleaded distractedly. 
 
 " What shall I do? " asked Ethel with wide open eyes, 
 "apologise? That's odd. I've been waiting for you 
 to." 
 
 Brent turned away again with an impatient ejacula- 
 tion. As he moved up toward the windows Alaric came 
 in behind him through the door. 
 
 " Hello, Brent," he called out heartily. " H'are ye? " 
 
 " Very well, thank you, Alaric," he said, controlling 
 his surprise. 
 
 " Good. The dear wife well too? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 "And the sweet child?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You must bring 'em along sometime. The mater 
 would love to see them and so would Ethel. Ethel loves 
 babies, don't you, dear? " Without waiting for Ethel to 
 reply he hurried on : " And talkin' of babies, have you 
 seen Margaret anywhere? " 
 
 Ethel nodded in the direction of the garden : " Out 
 there!" 
 
 " Splendid. The mater wants her. We've got to 
 have a family meetin' about her and at once. Mater'll be 
 here in a minute. Don't run away, Brent," and Alaric 
 hurried out through the windows into the garden. 
 
 Brent hurried over to Ethel: 
 
 " I'm at the hotel. I'll be there until morning. Send 
 me a message, will you? I'll wait up all night for one." 
 He paused: "Will you?" 
 
 " Perhaps," replied Ethel. 
 
 " I'm sorry if anything I've said or done has hurt you. 
 Believe me it is absolutely and entirely unnecessary."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 225 
 
 " Don't say any more." 
 
 " Oh, if only " he made an impulsive movement to- 
 ward her. She checked him just as her mother appeared 
 at the top of the stairs. At the same moment Bennett, 
 the maid, came in through the door. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester greeted Brent courteously: 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Brent? You will excuse me? " 
 She turned to the maid: 
 
 " When did you see my niece last ? " 
 
 " Not this hour, madam." 
 
 " Tell Jarvis to search the gardens the stables 
 to look up and down the road." 
 
 " Yes, madam," and the maid hurried away in search 
 of Jarvis. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester turned again to her guest: 
 
 " Pardon me Mr. Brent." 
 
 "I'm just leaving, Mrs. Chichester." 
 
 " Oh, but you needn't " expostulated that lady. 
 
 " I'm going abroad to-morrow. I just called to say 
 * good-bye.' " 
 
 " Indeed ? " said Mrs. Chichester. " Well, I hope you 
 and Mrs. Brent have a very pleasant trip. You must 
 both call the moment you return." 
 
 " Thank you," replied Brent. " Good-bye, Mrs. 
 Chichester and Ethel " He looked meaningly 
 and significantly at Ethel as he stood in the doorway. 
 The next moment he was gone. 
 
 Ethel was facing the problem of her future with no 
 one to turn to and ask for guidance. Her mother least 
 of all. Mrs. Chichester had never encouraged confidence 
 between her children and herself, consequently, any crisis 
 they reached they had to either decide for themselves or 
 appeal to others. Ethel had to decide for herself between 
 now and to-morrow morning. Next day it would be too
 
 226 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 late. What was she to do? Always loath to make up 
 her mind until forced to, she decided to wait until night. 
 
 It might be that the something she was always expect- 
 ing to snap in her nature would do so that evening and 
 save her the supreme effort of taking the final step on her 
 own initiative, and consequently having to bear the full 
 responsibility. Whilst these thoughts were passing rap- 
 idly through her mind, Alaric hurried in through the win- 
 dows from the garden. 
 
 " Not a sign of Margaret anywhere," he said furiously, 
 throwing himself into a chair and fanning himself vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 " This cannot go on," cried Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " I should think not indeed. Running about all over 
 the place." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester held up an open telegram : 
 
 " Mr. Hawkes telegraphs he will call to-morrow for his 
 first report. What can I tell him? " 
 
 " What will you ? " asked Alaric. 
 
 " Am I to tell him that every tutor I've engaged for 
 her resigned? Not one stays more than a week. Can 
 I tell him that ? " 
 
 " You could, mater dear : but would it be wise ? " 
 
 Mrs. Chichester went on: 
 
 " Am I to tell him that no maid will stay with her ? 
 That she shows no desire to improve? That she mimics 
 and angers her teachers, refuses to study and plays im- 
 pish tricks like some mischievous little elf? Am I to tell 
 him that? " 
 
 " Serve her jolly well right if you did. Eh, Ethel? " 
 said Alaric. 
 
 " It would," replied Ethel. 
 
 At that moment the footman and the maid both entered 
 from the garden very much out of breath.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 227 
 
 " I've searched everywhere, madam. Not a sign of 
 her," said Bennett. 
 
 " Not in the stables, nor up or down the road. And 
 the dog's missin', madam," added Jarvis. 
 
 Ethel sprang up. 
 
 " ' Pet '? " 
 
 " No, miss. She's gnawin' a bone on the lawn. The 
 other?' 
 
 " That will do," and Mrs. Chichester dismissed 
 them. 
 
 As they disappeared through the door, the old lady 
 said appealingly to her children : 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 " Heaven knows," said Alaric. 
 
 " Oh, if I could only throw the whole business up." 
 
 " Wish to goodness we could. But the monthly 
 cheque will be useful to-morrow, mater." 
 
 " That's it ! That's it ! " cried the unhappy woman. 
 
 " No one seems particularly anxious to snatch at my 
 services as yet," said Alaric. " Course it's a dull time, 
 Jerry tells me. But there we are. Not tuppence comin' 
 in and the butcher's to be paid likewise the other 
 mouth-fillers. See where I'm comin' ? " 
 
 " Have I not lain awake at night struggling with it ? " 
 replied the poor lady, almost on the verge of tears. 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you what," said the hope of the family ; 
 " I'll tell you what we'll do. Let's give the little beggar 
 another month of it. Let her off lightly this time, and 
 the moment the lawyer-bird's gone, read her the riot-act. 
 Pull her up with a jerk. Ride her on the curb and no 
 rot! " 
 
 " We could try," and Mrs. Chichester wiped her eyes : 
 " Of course she has improved in her manner. For that 
 we have to thank Ethel." She looked affectionately at
 
 228 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 her daughter and choked back a sob. " Who could live 
 near dear Ethel and not improve ? " 
 
 " Ah ! There we have it ! " agreed Alaric. 
 
 " But I don't know how much of the improvement is 
 genuine and how much pretended," gasped his mother. 
 
 " There we go again. She's got us fairly gravelled," 
 said Alaric despondently. 
 
 " Of course I can truthfully tell him that, at times, she 
 is very tractable and obedient." 
 
 " A t times! About two minutes a week ! When 
 Jerry's around. How on earth he puts up with her I 
 can't understand. She follows him about like a little 
 dog. Listens to him. Behaves herself. But the mo- 
 ment he's gone Poof ! back she goes to her old tricks. 
 I tell you she's a freak ! " and Alaric dismissed the mat- 
 ter, and sat back fanning himself. 
 
 " Can I tell Mr. Hawkes that? " asked Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " No," replied Alaric. " But I would say that the 
 thousand a year is very hardly earned. Nat ought to 
 have made it ten thousand. Dirt cheap at that. Tell 
 him that out of respect for the dead man's wishes, we shall 
 continue the job and that on the whole we have hopes. 
 Slight but hopes! *' 
 
 In through the open windows came the sound of dogs 
 barking furiously. Ethel sprang up crying: 
 ; * Pet! ' " and hurried out into the garden. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester and Alaric went to the windows and 
 looked out. 
 
 " Margaret ! " cried Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " And the mongrel ! She's urgin' him on. The ter- 
 rier's got * Pet ' now." Alaric called out to the little 
 poodle : " Fight him, old girl ! Maul him ! Woa 
 there ! * Pet's ' down. There is Ethel on the scene,"
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 229 
 
 he cried as Ethel ran across the lawn and picked up the 
 badly treated poodle. 
 
 " Go and separate them," urged Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Not me," replied Alaric. " Ethel can handle 'em. 
 I hate the little brutes. All hair and teeth. I cannot 
 understand women coddling those little messes of snarling, 
 smelly wool." 
 
 Ethel came indignantly into the room soothing the ex- 
 cfted and ruffled " Pet" She was flushed and very angry. 
 How dare that brat let her mongrel touch the aristo- 
 cratic poodle? 
 
 A moment later Peg entered with the victorious 
 " Michael " cradled in her arms. She had a roguish look 
 of triumph in her eyes. Down the front of her charming 
 new dress were the marks of " Michael's " muddy paws. 
 Peg was also breathing quickly, and evidently more than 
 a little excited. 
 
 " Take that animal out of the room ! " cried Mrs. 
 Chichester indignantly the moment Peg appeared. 
 
 Peg turned and walked straight out into the garden 
 and began playing with " Michael " on the grass. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester waited for a few moments, then called 
 out to her: 
 
 " Margaret f " Then more sharply : " Margaret ! 
 Come here ! Do you hear me ? " 
 
 Peg went on playing with " Michael " and just an- 
 swered : " I hear ye." 
 
 " Come here at once ! " 
 
 " Can ' Michael * come in too ? " came from the garden. 
 
 '* You come in and leave that brute outside." 
 
 " If * Michael ' can't come in, / don't want to," ob- 
 stinately insisted Peg. 
 
 " Do as I tell you. Come here," commanded her aunt.
 
 230 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Peg tied " Michael " to one of the French windows and 
 then went slowly into the room and stood facing her 
 aunt. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " asked that lady. 
 
 " Down to the say-shore," replied Peg indifferently. 
 
 " Haven't I told you never to go out alone? " 
 
 " Ye have." 
 
 " How dare you disobey me ? " 
 
 " Sure I had to." 
 
 "You had to?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " And why? " 
 
 " * Michael ' needed a bath, so I took him down to the 
 say-shore an' gave him one. He loves the wather, he 
 does." 
 
 " Are there no servants? " 
 
 " There are sure." 
 
 " Isn't that their province ? " 
 
 " Mebbe. But they hate * Micliael ' and I hate them. 
 I wouldn't let them touch him." 
 
 " In other words you wilfully disobeyed me ? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " Is this the way my niece should behave ? " 
 
 *' Mebbe not. It's the way / behave though." 
 
 " So my wishes count for nothing? " 
 
 The old lady looked so hurt as well as so angry that 
 Peg softened and hastened to try and make it up with 
 her aunt: 
 
 " Sure yer wishes do count with me, aunt. Indade they 
 do." 
 
 " Don't say indade. There is no such word. Itir 
 deed! " corrected Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, aunt. Indeed they do." 
 
 " Look at your dress ! " suddenly cried Mrs. Chichester
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 231 
 
 as she caught sight of the marks of '* Michael's " play- 
 fulness. 
 
 Peg looked at the stains demurely and said cheerfully: 
 
 " ' Michael ' did that. Sure they'll come off." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked at the flushed face of the young 
 girl, at the mass of curly hair that had been carefully 
 dressed by Bennett for dinner and was now hovering 
 around her eyes untidily. The old lady straightened it: 
 
 " Can you not keep your hair out of your eyes ? What 
 do you think will become of you ? " 
 
 " I hope to go to Heaven, like all good Catholics," 
 said Peg. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester turned away with a gesture of de- 
 spair. 
 
 " I give it up ! I give it up ! " she said, half-crying. 
 
 " I should say so," agreed Alaric. " Such rubbish ! " 
 
 Peg shook her head the moment Mrs. Chichester turned 
 her back, and the little red curls once more danced in 
 front of her eyes. 
 
 " I do everything I can, everything," complained Mrs. 
 Chichester, " but you you " she broke off. " I 
 don't understand you ! I don't understand you ! " 
 
 " Me father always said that," cried Peg eagerly ; 
 " and if he couldn't sure how could any one else ? " 
 
 " Never mind your father," said Mrs. Chichester se- 
 verely. Peg turned away. 
 
 " What is it ? " continued the old lady. " I say wJiat 
 is it? " 
 
 " What is what ? " asked Peg. 
 
 " Is it that you don't wish to improve? Is it that? " 
 
 " I'll tell ye what 7 think it is," began Peg helpfully, 
 as if anxious to reach some satisfactory explanation : " I 
 think there's a little divil in me lyin' there and every now 
 and again he jumps out."
 
 232 
 
 " A devil? " cried Mrs. Chichester, horrified. 
 
 " Yes, aunt," said Peg demurely. 
 
 " How dare you use such a word to me? " 
 
 " I didn't. I used it about myself. I don't know 
 whether you have a divil in ye or not. I think / have." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester silenced her with a gesture: 
 
 " To-morrow I am to give Mr. Hawkes my first report 
 on you." 
 
 Peg laughed suddenly and then checked herself 
 quickly. 
 
 " And why did you do that? " asked her aunt severely. 
 
 " I had a picture of what ye're goin' to tell him." 
 
 " Your manners are abominable." 
 
 "Yes, aunt." 
 
 "What am I to tell Mr. Hawkes? " 
 
 " Tell him the truth, aunt, and shame the divil." 
 
 " Margaret ! " and the old lady glared at her in hor- 
 ror. 
 
 " I beg yer pardon," said Peg meekly. 
 
 66 Don't you wish to remain here ? " continued Mrs. 
 Chichester. 
 
 " Sometimes I do, an' sometimes I don't." 
 
 "Don't I do everything that is possible for you? " 
 
 " Yes, ye do everything possible to me " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I mean for me. I should have said for me, 
 aunt ! " and Peg's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. 
 
 "Then why do you constantly disobey me? " pursued 
 the old lady. 
 
 " I suppose it is the original sin in me," replied Peg 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 [ * What? " cried Mrs. Chichester again taken com- 
 pletely aback. 
 
 " Oh, I say, you know 1 that's good ! Ha ! " and
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 233 
 
 Alaric laughed heartily. Peg joined in and laughed 
 heartily with him. Alaric immediately stopped. 
 
 Ethel took absolutely no notice of any one. 
 
 Peg sat down beside her aunt and explained to her: 
 " Whenever I did anythin' wilful or disturbin' as a child 
 , me father always said it was the ' original sin ' in me an' 
 that I wasn't to be punished for it because I couldn't 
 help it. Then he used to punish himself for my fault. 
 An' when I saw it hurt him I usen't to do it again for 
 a while at least. I think that was a grand way to 
 bring up a daughter. I've been wonderin' since I've 
 been here if an aunt could bring a niece up the same way.'* 
 And she looked quizzically at Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Supposin', for instance, you were to punish yerself 
 for everythin' wrong that I'd do, I might be so sorry I'd 
 never do it again but of course I might not. I am 
 not sure about meself. I think me father knows me 
 betther than I do meself." 
 
 " Your father must have been a very bad influence on 
 you," said Mrs. Chichester sternly. 
 
 " No, he wasn't," contradicted Peg, hotly. " Me fath- 
 er's the best man " 
 
 Mrs. Chichester interrupted her : " Margaret ! " 
 
 Peg looked down sullenly and said: "Well, he was." 
 
 " Haven't I told you never to contradict me? " 
 
 " Well, you contradict me all the time." 
 
 " Stop ! " 
 
 " Well, there's nothin' fair about your conthradictin* 
 me and me not being able to " 
 
 "Will you stop?" 
 
 " Well, now, aunt, ye will do me a favour if you will 
 stop spakin' about me father the way you do. It hurts 
 me, it does. I love my father and I I - 
 
 " Will you stop? "
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I have stopped." And Peg sank back in her chair, 
 breathing hard and her little fists punching against each 
 other. 
 
 Her aunt then made the following proposition: 
 
 " If I consent to take charge of you for a further 
 period, will you promise me you will do your best to 
 show some advancement during the next month? " 
 
 " Yes, aunt," said Peg readily. 
 
 " And if I get fresh tutors for you, will you try to keep 
 them?" 
 
 Yes, aunt." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester questioned Alaric. " What do you 
 think?" 
 
 " We might risk it," replied Alaric, turning to his 
 sister: "Eh, Ethel?" 
 
 " Don't ask me," was Ethel's reply. 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Chichester determinedly, " Be- 
 gin to-night." 
 
 " Begin what? " queried Peg, full of curiosity. 
 
 " To show that you mean to keep your promise. Work 
 for a while." 
 
 " What at? " asked Peg, all eagerness to begin some- 
 thing. 
 
 " Get your books," said her aunt. 
 
 " Sure an' I will." And Peg turned to different parts 
 of the room, finding an atlas here, a book of literature 
 on the piano, an English history under the table. Finally 
 she got them complete and sat down at the big table and 
 prepared to study. 
 
 Jarvis came in with a letter on a salver. 
 
 "Well?" asked the old lady. 
 
 " For Miss Chichester, madam," and he handed Ethel 
 the letter. " By hand, miss." 
 
 Ethel took the letter quite unconsciously and opened
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 235 
 
 it. Whilst she was reading it, Peg called the footman 
 over to her. 
 
 " Jarvis," she said, " me dog ' Michael ' is outside 
 there, tied up to the door. He's had a fight an' he's 
 tired. Will ye put him to bed for me like a good boy ? " 
 
 Jarvis went out disgustedly, untied the dog and put 
 him in the kennel that had been specially made for him. 
 
 Poor Jarvis's life this last month had been most un- 
 happy. The smooth and peaceful order of things in the 
 house had departed. The coming of the " niece " had 
 disturbed everything. Many were the comments below 
 stairs on the intruder. The following is an example of 
 the manner in which Peg was regarded by the footman 
 and Mrs. Chichester's own maid, Bennett. 
 
 "A niece!" cried Bennett, sarcastically, just after 
 Peg's arrival. 
 
 " So they say! " retorted Jarvis, mysteriously. 
 
 " What do you make of her? " 
 
 " Well, every family I've served and my mother be- 
 fore me, had a family skeleton. She is ours." 
 
 " W T hy, she hadn't a rag to her back when she came 
 here. I'd be ashamed to be dressed as she was. You 
 should have seen the one she goes to Mass in ! " 
 
 " I did," said Jarvis indignantly. " All wrapped up 
 in the ' Irish Times.' Then I got ragged for putting her 
 in the kitchen. Looked too good for her. And that 
 dog! Can't go near it without it trying to bite me. I 
 don't approve of either of 'em comin' into a quiet family 
 like ours." 
 
 Just then the bell called him to the drawing-room and 
 further discussion of Peg and " Michael " was deferred 
 to a more suitable opportunity. 
 
 To return Ethel read her letter and went to the 
 writing-desk to reply to it.
 
 236 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Who is it from? " asked Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Mr. Brent," replied Ethel, indifferently. 
 
 "Brent?" cried Alaric. "What on earth does he 
 write to you for? " 
 
 " He wants me to do something for him," and she tore 
 the letter up into the smallest pieces and placed them in 
 a receptacle on the desk. 
 
 " Do something? " questioned Alaric. 
 
 " Yes. Nothing very much. I'll answer it here," and 
 she proceeded quite imperturbably to write an answer. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester had seen that Peg had commenced to 
 study which meant with Peg roaming through 
 her books until she found something that interested her. 
 Then she would read it over and over again until she 
 thought she knew it. 
 
 " Come, Alaric," and Mrs. Chichester left the room 
 after admonishing Peg that an hour would be sufficient 
 to sit up. 
 
 Alaric watched his mother go out of the room and 
 then he slouched over to Peg and grinned chaffingly down 
 at her. 
 
 " Original-sin, eh? That's a good 'un." 
 
 Peg looked up at him and a dangerous gleam came into 
 her eyes. Alaric was not going to mock at her and get 
 away unscathed. All unconscious of his danger, Alaric 
 went on: 
 
 " Study all the pretty maps and things." 
 
 Peg closed the book with a slam and took it up and 
 held it in a threatening manner as she glared at Alaric. 
 
 " Little devil ! " and Alaric laughed at her. 
 
 " He's tuggin' at me now ! " replied Peg. " The devil 
 must hate knowledge. He always tries to keep me from 
 gettin' any." 
 
 Alaric laughed again maliciously.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 2S7 
 
 " Watch your cousin ! Model yourself on Ethel! 
 Eh? What?" 
 
 Peg hurled the book at him; he dodged it and it just 
 escaped hitting Ethel, who turned at the disturbance. 
 
 Alaric hurried out to avoid any further conflict 
 calling back over his shoulder: 
 
 " Little devil." 
 
 Peg picked up the book, looked at Ethel, who had fin- 
 ished the letter and had put it into an unaddressed en- 
 velope. She took a cigarette out of her case and lit it 
 neatly. 
 
 Peg took one out of the box on the table and lit it 
 clumsily, though in exact imitation of Ethel. 
 
 When Ethel had addressed the envelope she turned and 
 saw Peg smoking, sitting on the edge of the table, watch- 
 ing Ethel with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 
 
 Ethel impatiently threw her cigarette on to the ash 
 tray on the desk. 
 
 Peg did the same action identically into a tray on the 
 table. 
 
 Ethel rose indignantly and faced Peg. 
 
 " Why do you watch me ? " 
 
 " Aunt told me to. Aren't ye me model? I'm to 
 mould meself on you, sure ! " 
 
 Ethel turned away furiously and began to ascend the 
 stairs. 
 
 Peg followed her and called up to her: 
 
 "May I talk to ye?" 
 
 " You were told to study," replied Ethel, angrily. 
 
 "Won't ye let me talk to ye? Please, do!" urged 
 Peg. Then she went on : " Ye haven't said a kind 
 wurrd to me since I've been here." She stopped a mo- 
 ment. Ethel said nothing. Peg continued : " Sure, 
 we're both girls, in the same house, of the same family.
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 an' pretty much the same age, and yet 3-6 never look at 
 me except as if ye hated me. Why, ye like yer dog bet- 
 ther than you do me, don't ye ? " 
 
 Ethel looked down at " Pet '* and fondled her and 
 kissed her. 
 
 " I'm sorry * Michael ' hurt him. It was a cowardly 
 thing of * Michael ' to do to snap at a little bit of a thing 
 like that is. But it wasn't ' Michael's ' fault. / set him 
 on to it, an' he always obeys me. He'd bite a lion or 
 that " and she pointed to the poor little poodle " if 
 I set him onto it." 
 
 " You made him attack ' Pet '? " cried Ethel. 
 
 " I did. I hate it. It's so sleek and fat and well-bred. 
 I hate fat, well-bred things. I like them thin and com- 
 mon, like * Michael ' and meself. A dog should be made 
 to look like a dog if it is a dog. No one could mistake 
 * Michael ' for anything else but a dog. But that 
 thing " 
 
 Ethel gave an indignant ejaculation and again started 
 to go upstairs. 
 
 Peg entreated her: 
 
 " Don't go for a minnit. Won't ye make friends with 
 me? " 
 
 " We've nothing in common," replied Ethel. 
 
 " Sure, that doesn't prevent us bein' dacent to each 
 other, does it ? " 
 
 " Decent? " cried Ethel in disgust. 
 
 " I'll meet ye three quarthers o* the way if ye'll show 
 just one little generous feelin' toward me." She paused 
 as she looked pleadingly at Ethel : " Ye would if ye 
 knew what was in me mind." 
 
 Ethel came down to the last step of the stairs and 
 stood there looking down searchingly at Peg. Finally 
 she said:
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 239 
 
 " You're a strange creature." 
 
 " Not at all. It's you people here who are strange 
 I'm just what I am. I don't pretend or want to be any- 
 thin' else. But you all of you seem to be trying to 
 be somethin' different to what ye are." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Ethel suspiciously. 
 
 " Oh, I watch ye and listen to ye," went on Peg eagerly. 
 ;< Ye turn yer face to the wurrld as much as to say, 
 'Look at me! aren't I the beautiful, quiet, well-bred, 
 aisy-goin', sweet-tempered young lady?' An' yer 
 nothin 5 o' the kind, are ye? " 
 
 Ethel went slowly over to Peg and looked into her 
 eyes : 
 
 "What ami?" 
 
 " Sure ye've got the breedin' all right, an' the nice- 
 looks, an' the beautiful manners but down in yer heart 
 an' up in yer brain ye're worryin' yer little soul all the 
 time, aren't ye ? " And Peg paused. Ethel looked 
 down. Peg after a moment continued : " An' ye've got 
 a temper just as bad as mine. It's a beautiful temper ye 
 have, Ethel. It's a shame not to let a temper like that 
 out in the daylight now and again. But ye kape it out 
 o' sight because it isn't good form to show it. An' with 
 all yer fine advantages ye're not a bit happy, are ye? 
 Are ye, Ethel?" 
 
 Ethel, moved in spite of herself, admitted involun- 
 tarily: "No. I'm not!" 
 
 Peg went on quietly : " Nor am I in this house. 
 Couldn't we try and comfort each other? " There was 
 a look of genuine sympathy with Ethel in Peg's big blue 
 eyes and a note of tender entreaty in her tone. 
 
 " Comfort? You comfort me? " cried Ethel, in dis- 
 dain. 
 
 " Yes, Ethel dear, me comfort you,. They say * a
 
 240 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 beautiful thought makes a beautiful face ' ; an' by the 
 same token, sure a kind action gives ye a warm feelin* 
 around the heart. An' ye might have that if ye'd only 
 be a little kind to me sometime." 
 
 Peg's honest sincerity and depth of feeling had sud- 
 denly a marked effect on the, apparently, callous Ethel. 
 She turned to Peg and there was a different expression 
 entirely in her look and tone as she said. 
 
 " I'm afraid I have been a little inconsiderate." 
 
 " Ye have, sure," said Peg. 
 
 " What would you like me to do? " 
 
 " Pd like ye to spake to me sometimes as though I 
 were a human bein' an' not a clod o' earth." 
 
 " Very well, Margaret, I will. Good night." And 
 feeling the matter was closed, Ethel again turned away 
 to leave the room. 
 
 " Will ye give me another minnit now please," 
 called Peg, after her, excitedly. 
 
 Ethel looked at the letter in her hand, hesitated, then 
 re-entered the room and went down to Peg and said 
 gently : 
 
 " All right." 
 
 " Only just a minnit," repeated Peg, breathlessly. 
 
 " What do you want, Margaret ? " 
 
 " I want ye to tell me somethin'." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 Peg paused looked at Ethel bashfully dropped 
 her eyes to the ground took a deep breath then 
 said as fast as she could speak: 
 
 " Do ye know anything about about love? " 
 
 " Love ? " echoed Ethel, very much astonished. 
 
 " Yes," said Peg. " Have ye ever been in love? " and 
 she waited expectantly for Ethel's answer.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 Ethel put the letter she had just written to Mr. Brent 
 slowly behind her back and answered coldly: 
 
 " No. I have not." 
 
 " Have ye ever thought about it? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What do ye think about it ? " questioned Peg eag- 
 erly. 
 
 " Rot ! " replied Ethel, decidedly. 
 
 " Rot? Rot? " cried Peg, unable to believe her ears. 
 
 " Sentimental nonsense that only exists in novels." 
 
 " Ye're wrong ! " insisted the anxious Peg ; " ye're 
 wrong. It's the most wondherf ul thing in the wurrld ! " 
 
 Ethel brought the letter up to her eyes and read the 
 superscription. " Think so ? " she asked calmly. 
 
 " I do," cried Peg hotly. " I do. It's the most won- 
 dherful thing in the whole wurrld. To love a good man 
 who loves you. A man that made ye hot and cold by 
 turns : burnin' like fire one minnit an' freezin' like ice the 
 next. Who made yer heart leap with happiness when he 
 came near ye, an' ache with sorrow when he went awayj 
 from ye. Haven't ye ever felt like that, Ethel? " 
 
 " Never ! " replied Ethel, positively. 
 
 Peg went on : " Oh ! it's mighty disturbing I'm tellin' 
 ye. Sometimes ye walk on air, an' at others yer feet are 
 like lead. An' at one time the wurrld's all beautiful flow- 
 ers and sweet music and grand poetry an' at another 
 it's all coffins, an' corpses, an' shrouds." She shook her 
 head seriously : " Oh ! I tell ye it's mighty disturbin V 
 
 Ethel looked at her inquiringly: 
 
 " How do you know this ? " 
 
 Peg grew confused, then answered hurriedly: 
 
 " I've been readin' about it in a book. It's won- 
 dherful that's what it is."
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " When you're a little older you will think differently," 
 corrected Ethel, severely. " You will realise then that it 
 is all very primitive." 
 
 " Primitive? " asked Peg, disappointedly. 
 
 " Of the earth earthy," answered Ethel. 
 
 Peg thought a moment : " Sure I suppose 7 am then." 
 She looked half-shyly at Ethel and asked her quietly: 
 "Don't you like men?" 
 
 " Not much," answered Ethel, indifferently. 
 
 " Just dogs ? " persisted Peg. 
 
 " You can trust them" and Ethel caressed " Pet's " lit- 
 tle pink snout. 
 
 " That's thrue," agreed Peg. " I like dogs, too. But 
 I like children betther. Wouldn't ye like to have a child 
 of yer own, Ethel?" 
 
 That yourig lady looked at her horrifiedly : " Mar- 
 garet! " 
 
 " Well, 7 would," said Peg. " That's the rale woman 
 in us. Ye know ye only fondle that animal because ye 
 haven't got a child of yer own to take in yer arms. Sure 
 that's the reason all the selfish women have pet dogs. 
 They're afraid to have childhren. I've watched them! 
 O' course a dog's all very well, but he can't talk to ye, an' 
 comfort ye, an' cry to ye, an' laugh to ye like a child 
 can." 
 
 Peg paused, then pointed to *' Pet " and launched the 
 following wonderful statement : 
 
 " Sure that thing could never be President of the 
 United States. But if ye had a baby he might grow 
 up to it." 
 
 " That's very Irish," sneered Ethel. 
 
 " Faith I think it's very human," answered Peg. " I 
 wish ye had some more of it, Ethel, acushla."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 243 
 
 Ethel walked away as though to dismiss the whole sub- 
 ject. It was most distasteful to her: 
 
 " It is not customary for girls to talk about such 
 things." 
 
 " I know it isn't," said Peg. " An' the more's the 
 pity. Why shouldn't we discuss events of national im- 
 portance ? We think about them very well ! why 
 shouldn't we talk about them. Why shouldn't girls be 
 taught to be honest with each other? I tell ye if there 
 was more honesty in this wurrld there wouldn't be half the 
 sin in it, that there wouldn't." 
 
 " Really " began Ethel 
 
 " Let iis be honest with each other, Ethel," and Peg 
 went right over to her and looked at her compassionately. 
 
 " What do ye mean ? " said Ethel with a sudden con- 
 traction of her breath. 
 
 "You like Mr. Brent, don't ye?" 
 
 So! the moment had come. The little spy had been 
 watching her. Well, she would fight this common little 
 Irish nobody to the bitter end. All the anger in her 
 nature surged uppermost as Ethel answered Peg but 
 she kept her voice under complete control and once more 
 put the letter behind her back. 
 
 " Certainly I like Mr. Brent. He is a very old friend 
 of the family!" 
 
 "He's got a wife?" 
 
 " He has ! " 
 
 "An' a baby?" 
 
 " Yes and a baby." Ethel was not going to betray 
 herself. She would just wait and see what course this 
 creature was going to take with her. 
 
 Peg went on : 
 
 " Of course I've never seen the wife or the baby because
 
 244 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 he never seems to have them with him when he calls here. 
 But I've often heard Alaric ask afther them." 
 
 "Well?" asked Ethel coldly. 
 
 " Is it usual for English husbands with babies to kiss 
 other women's hands ? " and Peg looked swiftly at her 
 cousin. 
 
 Ethel checked an outburst and said quite calmly: 
 
 " It is a very old and a very respected custom." 
 
 " The devil doubt it but it's old. I'm not so sure 
 about the respect. Why doesn't he kiss me aunt's hand 
 as well? " 
 
 Ethel went quickly to the staircase. She could not 
 control herself much longer. It was becoming unbear- 
 able. As she crossed the room she said with as little heat 
 as possible: 
 
 " You don't understand." 
 
 " Well, but I'm thryin' to," persisted Peg. " That's 
 why I watch ye all the time." 
 
 Ethel turned: she was now at bay: 
 
 " You -watch me? " 
 
 " Aren't ye me model ? " 
 
 "It's contemptible!" cried Ethel. 
 
 " Sure I only saw the * old and respected custom ' by 
 accident when I came in through there a month ago 
 an' once since when I came in again by accident a few 
 days aftherwards. I couldn't help seein' it both times. 
 And as for bein' contemptible I'm not so sure the custom 
 doesn't deserve all the contempt" 
 
 Ethel was now thoroughly aroused: 
 
 " I suppose it is too much to expect that a child of 
 the common people should understand the customs of 
 decent people." 
 
 " Mebbe it is," replied Peg. " But I don't see why
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 245 
 
 the common people should have att the decency and the 
 aristocracy none." 
 
 " It is impossible to talk to you. I was foolish to have 
 stayed here. You don't understand: you never could 
 understand " 
 
 P<g interrupted: 
 
 " Why, I never saw ye excited before : not a bit of 
 colour in yer cheeks till now except twice. Ye look 
 just as ye did when Mr. Brent followed that old and re- 
 spected, custom on yer hand," cried Peg. 
 
 Ethel answered, this time, excitedly and indignantly, 
 giving full and free vent to her just anger: 
 
 " Be good enough never to speak to me again as long 
 as you're in this house. If I had my way you'd leave it 
 this moment. As it is as it is " her voice rose al- 
 most to a scream: her rage was unbridled. 
 
 What more she might have said was checked by the 
 door opening and Jarvis showing in Jerry. 
 
 Jerry walked cheerfully and smilingly into the room 
 and was amazed to find the two young ladies glaring at 
 each other and apparently in the midst of a conflict. 
 
 All power of speech left him as he stood looking in 
 amazement at the combatantSt
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE TEMPLE OF FEIENDSHIP 
 
 ETHEL was the first to recover her equanimity. 
 
 She came down the steps, greeted Jerry with a genial 
 handshake, asked to be excused for a moment, and after 
 halting the departing Jarvis she went over to the writing- 
 desk, opened the envelope, added a postscript, addressed 
 a new envelope, put the augmented epistle inside it, s ;aled 
 it, handed it to Jarvis, saying: 
 
 " Send that at once. No answer." 
 
 As Jarvis left the room, Ethel turned to speak to 
 Jerry. Meanwhile, that young gentleman had greeted 
 Peg: 
 
 " And how is Miss Peg this evening? " 
 
 " I'm fine, Mr. Jerry, thank ye." She looked at him 
 admiringly. He was in evening dress, a light overcoat 
 was thrown across his arm and a Homburg hat in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Let me take your hat and coat?" she suggested. 
 
 " No, thank you," said Jerry, " I'm not going to stay." 
 
 "Aren't ye? " she asked disappointedly. 
 
 ** Is your aunt in ? " 
 
 " Yes, she's in. Is it her ye've come to see? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Jerry. 
 
 At that moment Ethel joined them. 
 
 " I came over to ask Mrs. Chichester's permission for 
 you two young ladies to go to a dance to-night. It's 
 just across from here at the assembly rooms. 
 
 Peg beamed joyfully. It was just what she wanted 
 
 to do. Ethel viewed the suggestion differently: 
 
 346
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 " Et's very kind of you," she said ; " but it's quite im- 
 posuble." 
 
 "Oh!" ejaculated Peg. 
 
 " Impossible? " exclaimed Jerry. 
 
 " I'm sorry," and Ethel went to the door. 
 
 " So am I," replied Jerry regretfully. " I would have 
 given you longer notice only it was made up on the spur 
 of the moment. Don't you think you could? " 
 
 " I don't care for dancing. Besides, my head 
 aches." 
 
 " What a pity," exclaimed the disappointed young 
 man. Then he said eagerly : " Do you suppose your 
 mother would allow Miss Margaret to go? " 
 
 " I'll ask her," and Ethel left the room. 
 
 Peg ran across, stopped the door from closing and 
 called after Ethel: 
 
 " I didn't mean to hurt ye indade I didn't. I 
 wanted to talk to ye, that was all an' ye made me 
 angry " Ethel disappeared without even turning her 
 head. 
 
 Peg came into the room ruefully, and sat down on the 
 sofa, She was thoroughly unhappy. 
 
 Jijrry looked at her a moment, walked over to her and 
 asked her: " What's the matter? " 
 
 " One of us girls has been brought-up all wrong. I 
 tried! to make friends with her just now and only made 
 her angry, as I do every one in this house whenever I 
 open my mouth." 
 
 " Aren't you friends ? " 
 
 " Indade indeed indeed we're not. None of 
 them are with me." 
 
 "What a shame!" 
 
 " Wait until ye hear what me aunt says when ye ask 
 her about the dance ! "
 
 248 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Don't you think she'll let you go? " 
 
 " No. I do not" She looked at him quizzically for 
 a moment. Then she burst out laughing. He was glad 
 to see her spirits had returned and wondered as to the 
 cause. She looked up at him, her eyes dancing with mis- 
 chief : 
 
 " Misther Jerry, will ye take me all the same if me 
 aunt doesn't consent? " 
 
 " Why, Peg ; ' he began, astonishedly. 
 
 " But I haven't got an evenin' dress. Does it mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 " Not in the least, but " 
 
 " Will this one do? " 
 
 " It's very charming still " 
 
 " Stains and all? " 
 
 " My dear Peg " 
 
 " Perhaps they'll rub out. It's the prettiest one me 
 aunt gave me an' I put it on to-night because I 
 thought you that is, someone might come here to-night. 
 At least, I hoped he would, an* ye've come ! " Suddenly 
 she broke out passionately : " Oh, ye must take me ! 
 Ye must! I haven't had a bit of pleasure since I've 
 been here. It will be wondherful. Besides I wouldn't 
 rest all night with you dancin* over there an' me a pris- 
 oner over here." 
 
 " Now, Peg " he tried to begin 
 
 " It's no use, I tell ye. Ye've got to take me. An' 
 if it goes against yer conscience to do it, Til take you. 
 Stop, now! Listen! The moment they're all in bed, 
 an' the lights are all out I'll creep down here an' out 
 through those windows an' you'll meet me at the foot 
 o' the path. An' it's no use ye sayin' anythin' because 
 I'm just goin' to that dance. So make up yer mind 
 to it."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 249 
 
 Jerry laughed uncomfortably. She was quite capa- 
 ble of doing such a thing and getting herself into a great 
 deal of unnecessary trouble. So he tried to dissuade her. 
 He laughed cheerfully. 
 
 " There may not be any occasion to do such a wild, 
 foolish thing. Why, your aunt may be delighted." 
 
 " Me aunt has never been delighted since she was 
 born ! " 
 
 " Have you been annoying her again ? " 
 
 " Faith, I'm always doin' that." 
 
 He looked at the litter of books on the table and 
 picked up one. 
 
 " How are your studies progressing? " 
 
 " Just the way they always have," replied Peg. " Not 
 at all." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I don't like studying," answered Peg earnestly. 
 
 " And are you going through life doing only the 
 things you like? " 
 
 "Sure, that's all life's for." 
 
 " Oh, no, it isn't. As you grow older you'll find the 
 only real happiness in life is in doing things for others." 
 
 " Oh ! " she said quickly : " I like doin' them now 
 for others." She looked up at him a moment, then down 
 at a book and finished under her breath : " When I 
 like the others." 
 
 He looked at her intently a moment and was just 
 going to speak when she broke in quickly : 
 
 " What's the use of learnin' the heights of mountains 
 whose names I can't pronounce and I'm never goin' to 
 climb? And I'm very much surprised at me aunt allowin' 
 me to read about the doin's of a lot of dead kings who 
 did things we ought to thry and forget." 
 
 " They made history," said Jerry.
 
 250 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Well, they ought to have been ashamed of themselves. 
 I don't, care how high Mont Blanc is nor when William 
 the Conqueror landed in England." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! " reasoned Jerry 
 
 " I tell ye I Jiate English history. It makes all me 
 Irish blood boil." Suddenly she burst into a reproduc- 
 tion of the far-off father, suiting action to word and 
 climaxing at the end, as she had so often heard him 
 finish : 
 
 " What is England? What is it, I say. I'll tell ye ! 
 A mane little bit of counthry thramplin' down a fine race 
 like ours! ' That's what me father sez, and that's the 
 way he sez it. An' when he brings his fist down like 
 that " and she showed Jerry exactly how her father 
 did it "when he brings his fist down like that, it 
 doesn't matther how many people are listenin' to him, 
 there isn't one dares to conthradict him. Me father feels 
 very strongly about English. History. An' I don't want 
 to learn it." 
 
 " Is it fair to your aunt? " asked Jerry. 
 
 Peg grew sullen and gloomy. She liked to be praised, 
 but all she ever got in that house was blame. And now 
 he was following the way of the others. It was hard. 
 No one understood her. 
 
 " Is it fair to your aunt? " he repeated. 
 
 " No. I don't suppose it is." 
 
 " Is it fair to yourself? " 
 
 " That's right scold me, lecture me ! You so md 
 just like me aunt, ye do." 
 
 " But you'll be at such a disadvantage by-and-by 
 with other young ladies without half your intelligence 
 just because they know things you refuse to learn. Then 
 you'll be ashamed." 
 
 She looked at him pleadingly.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 251 
 
 "Are you, ashamed of me? Because I'm ignorant? 
 Are ye ? " 
 
 " Not a bit," replied Jerry heartily. " I was just the 
 same at your age. I used to scamp at school and shirk 
 at college until I found myself so far behind fellows I 
 despised that / was ashamed. Then I went after them 
 tooth and nail until I caught them up and passed them." 
 
 " Did 3'e? " cried Peg eagerly. 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " 7 will, too," she said. 
 
 "Will you?" 
 
 She nodded vigorously: 
 
 "I will indeed I will. From now on I'll do every- 
 thia' they tell me an' learn everythin' they teach me, if 
 it kills me ! " 
 
 " I wish you would," he said seriously. 
 
 " An' when I pass everybody else, an' know more than 
 anyone ever knew will ye be very proud of me? " 
 
 " Yes, Peg. Even more than I am now." 
 
 " Are ye now? " 
 
 " I am. Proud to think you are my friend." 
 
 " Ye'd ha' won yer wager. We are friends, aren't 
 we?" 
 
 " I am yours" 
 
 " Sure, I'm yours all right." 
 
 She looked at him, laughed shyly and pressed 'her 
 cheeks. He was watching her closely. 
 
 "What are you laughing at?" he asked. 
 
 " Do ye know what Tom Moore wrote about Friend- 
 ship? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Shall I tell ye?" excitedly. 
 
 " Do." 
 
 " See if anywan's comin' first."
 
 252 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 As he looked around the room and outside the door 
 to detect the advent of an intruder Peg sat at the piano 
 and played very softly the prelude to an old Irish song. 
 
 As Jerry walked back he said surprisedly : " Oh ! so 
 you play? " 
 
 Peg nodded laughingly. 
 
 " Afther a fashion. Me father taught me. Me aunt 
 can't bear it. An' the teacher in the house said it was 
 dhreadful and that I must play scales for two years more 
 before I thry a tune. She said I had no ear." 
 
 Jerry laughed as he replied : " I think they're very 
 pretty." 
 
 " Do ye? Well watch them an' mebbe ye won't mind 
 me singin' so much. An' afther all ye're only a farmer, 
 aren't ye ? " 
 
 " Hardly that," and Jerry laughed again. 
 
 Her fingers played lightly over the keys for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " This is called * A Temple to Friendship,* " she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " And it's about a girl who built a shrine and she 
 thought she wanted to put * Friendship ' into it. She 
 thought she wanted ' Friendship.' Afther a while she 
 found out her mistake. Listen : " And Peg sang, in a 
 pure, tremulous little voice that vibrated with feeling the 
 following : 
 
 " ' A temple to Friendship,' said Laura enchanted, 
 ' I'll build in this garden: the thought is divine! ' 
 Her temple was built and she now only wanted 
 An Image of Friendship to place on the shrine. 
 
 She flew to a sculptor who set down before her 
 A Friendship the fairest his art could invent!
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 253 
 
 But so cold and so dull that the Youthful adorer 
 Saw plainly this was not the idol she meant. 
 
 ' Oh ! never/ she cried, ' could I think of enshrining 
 An image whose looks are so joyless and dim 
 But yon little god (Cupid) upon roses reclining, 
 We'll make, if you please, sir, a Friendship of him.' 
 
 So the bargain was struck; with the little god laden 
 She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove: 
 ' Farewell/ said the sculptor, ' you're not the first maiden, 
 Who came but for Friendship and took away Love.' " 
 
 She played the refrain softly after she had finished 
 the song. Gradually the last note died away. 
 
 Jerry looked at her in amazement. 
 
 " Where in the world did you learn that ? " 
 
 " Me father taught it to me," replied Peg simply. 
 " Tom Moore's one of me father's prayer-books." 
 
 Jerry repeated as though to himself: 
 
 " ' Who came but for Friendship and took away 
 Lffoe! ' " 
 
 44 Isn't that beautiful?" And Peg's face had a rapt 
 expression as she looked up at Jerry. 
 
 " Do you believe it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Didn't Tom Moore write it ? " she answered. 
 
 " Is there anything better than Friendship between 
 man and woman ? " 
 
 She nodded: 
 
 " Indeed there is. Me father felt it for me mother 
 or I wouldn't be here now. Me father loved me mother 
 with all his strength and all his soul." 
 
 " Could you, ever feel it ? " he asked, and there was 
 an anxious look in his eyes as he waited for her to an- 
 swer.
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Have you ever felt it? " he went on. 
 
 " All me life," answered Peg in a whisper. 
 
 " As a child, perhaps," remarked Jerry. " Some day 
 it will come to you as a woman and then the whole world 
 will change for you." 
 
 " I know," replied Peg softly. " I've felt it comin'." 
 
 " Since when ? " and once again suspense was in his 
 voice. 
 
 " Ever since ever since " suddenly she broke off 
 breathlessly and throwing her arms above her head as 
 though in appeal she cried : 
 
 " Oh, I do want to improve meself. Now I wish I liad 
 been born a lady. I'd be more worthy of " 
 
 " What? Whom? " asked Jerry urgently and wait- 
 ing anxiously for her answer. 
 
 Peg regained control of herself, and cowering down 
 again on to the piano-stool she went on hurriedly: 
 
 " I want knowledge now. I know what you mean by 
 bein' at a disadvantage. I used to despise learnin'. I've 
 laughed at it. I never will again. Why I can't even 
 talk yer language. Every wurrd I use is wrong. This 
 book ye gave me the * Love Stories of tlie World,' I've 
 never seen anythin' like it. I never knew of eiich people. 
 I didn't dhream what a wondherful power in/&C wurrld 
 was the power of love. I used to think it sumethin' to 
 kape to yerself and never spake of out in the open. Now 
 I know it's the one great big wondherful power in the 
 wurrld. It's me love for me father has kept faith and 
 hope alive in me heart. I was happy with him. I never 
 wanted to lave him. Now I see there is another happiness, 
 too an' it's beyond me. I'm no one's equal. I'm just a 
 little Irish nothin' " 
 
 " Don't say that," Jerry interrupted.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 255 
 
 " There's an obstinate bad something in me that holds 
 me back every time I want to go forward. Sometimes 
 the good little somethin' tries so hard to win, but the bad 
 bates it. It just bates it, it does." 
 
 " What you call the bad is the cry of youth that re- 
 sents being curbed: and the good is the woman in you 
 struggling for an outlet," explained Jerry. 
 
 " Will you help me to give it an outlet, Mr. Jerry? " 
 
 " In any way in my power, Peg." 
 
 As they stood looking at each other the momentary 
 something was trembling on both their lips and beating 
 in both of their hearts. The something old as time, 
 yet new as birth that great transmuter of affection 
 into love, of hope into faith. It had come to them 
 yet neither dared speak. 
 
 Peg read his silence wrongly. 
 
 She blushed to the roots of her hair and her heart beat 
 fast with shame. She laughed a deliberately misleading 
 laugh and, looking up roguishly at him, said, her eyes 
 dancing with apparent mischief, though the tear lurked 
 behind the lid: 
 
 " Thank ye for promisin' to help me, Misther Jerry. 
 But would ye mind very much if the bad little somethin' 
 had one more spurt before I killed it altogether? Would 
 
 " Why, how do you mean ? " 
 
 " Take me to that dance to-night even without me 
 aunt's permission, will ye? I'll never forget ye for it 
 if yc will. An' it'll be the last wrong thing I'll ever do. 
 I'm just burnin' all over at the thought of it. My heart's 
 burstin' for it." She suddenly hummed a waltz refrain 
 and whirled around the room, the incarnation of childish 
 abandonment. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester came slowly down the stairs, gazing
 
 256 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 in horror at the little bouncing figure. As Peg whirled 
 past the newel post she caught sight of her aunt. She 
 stopped dead. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " asked Mrs. Chichester an- 
 grily. 
 
 Peg crept away and sank down into a chair: 
 
 Jerry came to the rescue. He shook hands with Mrs. 
 Chichester and said: 
 
 " I want you to do something that will make the child 
 very happy. Will you allow her to go to a dance at 
 the Assembly Rooms to-night ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Mrs. Chichester severely. " I 
 am surprised at you for asking such a thing." 
 
 " I could have told ye what she'd say wurrd for 
 wurrd ! " muttered Peg. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Jerry, straightening up, 
 hurt at the old lady's tone. " The invitation was also 
 extended to your daughter, but she declined. I thought 
 you might be pleased to give your niece a little pleas- 
 ure." 
 
 " Go to a dance unchaperoned ? " 
 
 " My mother and sisters will be there." 
 
 " A child of her age ? " said Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 '* Child is it ? " cried Peg vehemently. " I'd have ye 
 know my father lets me go anywhere " 
 
 '* Margaret! " and the old lady attempted to silence 
 Peg with a gesture. Peg changed her tone and pleaded : 
 
 " Plaze let me go. I'll study me head off to-morrow 
 if ye'll only let me dance me feet off a bit to-night. 
 Plaze let me ! " 
 
 The old lady raised her hand commanding Peg to 
 stop. Then turning to Jerry she said in a much softer 
 tone: 
 
 " It was most kind of you to trouble to come over.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 257 
 
 You must pardon me if I seem ungracious but it is 
 quite out of the question." 
 
 Peg sprang up, eager to argue it out. 
 
 Jerry looked at her as if imploring her not to anger 
 her aunt any further. He shook Mrs. Chichester's hand 
 and said: 
 
 " I'm sorry. Good night." He picked up his hat 
 and coat and went to the door. 
 
 " Kindly remember me to your mother and sisters," 
 added Mrs. Chichester gently. 
 
 " With pleasure," and Jerry opened the door. 
 
 " Good night, Misther Jerry," called Peg. 
 
 He turned and saw Peg deliberately pointing to the 
 pathway and indicating that he was to meet her there. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester happened to look around just in time 
 to catch her. Peg reddened and stood trapped. 
 
 Jerry went out. 
 
 The old lady looked at her for several moments without 
 speaking. Finally she asked: 
 
 " What did you mean by dancing in that disgraceful 
 way? And what did you mean by those signs you were 
 making? " 
 
 Peg said nothing. 
 
 " Are you always going to be a disgrace to us ? Are 
 you ever going to learn how to behave? " 
 
 " Yes, aunt," said Peg, and the words came out in a 
 torrent. " I'm never goin' to do anythin' agen to annoy 
 ye afther to-night. I'm goin' to wurrk hard too 
 afther to-night. Don't ye see what a disadvantage I'd 
 be at with girls without half me intelligence if I don't? 
 Don't ye see it? I do. I'd be ashamed that's what 
 I'd be. Well I'm goin' afther them tooth and nail 
 an' I'm goin' to catch them up an' pass them an' then 
 he'll ye'll ye'U be proud of me that ye will."
 
 258 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " What is all this ? " asked the amazed old lady. 
 
 " It's what I'm goin' to do afther to-night.'* 
 
 " I'm very glad to hear it." 
 
 " I knew ye would be. An' I'll never be any more 
 throuble to ye aftfar to-night." 
 
 " I hope you will be of the same mind in the morning."/ 
 
 " So do I, aunt. D'ye mind if I stay up for another! 
 hour? I'd like to begin now." 
 
 " Begin what ? " 
 
 " Tryin' to pass people tooth an' nail. May I 
 study for just one more hour? " 
 
 " Very well. Just an hour." 
 
 "Sure that'll be fine." She went to the table and 
 began eagerly to arrange her books once again. 
 
 " Turn off the lights when you've finished," said Mrs. 
 Chichester. 
 
 " Yes, aunt. Are you goin' to bed now? " 
 
 I am." 
 
 " Everybody in the house goin' to bed except me ? '* 
 
 " Everybody." 
 
 " That's good," said Peg, with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Don't make any noise," admonished the old lady. 
 
 " Not a sound, aunt," agreed Peg. 
 
 " Good night," and Mrs. Chichester went to the stairs. 
 
 " Good night, aunt ! Oh ! there's somethin' else. I 
 thought perhaps I would have to be gettin' back home to 
 me father but I had a letther from him this mornin' an' 
 it was quite cheerful so I think if ye don't mind 
 I'd like to stay another month. Can I?" 
 
 " We'll talk it over with Mr. Hawkes in the morning," 
 Mrs. Chichester said coldly and went on up the stairs. 
 
 Peg watched her out of sight then jumped up all ex- 
 citement and danced around the room. She stopped by 
 the table, looked at the open books in disgust with a
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 259 
 
 quick movement swept them off the table. Then she 
 listened panic-stricken and hurriedly knelt down and 
 picked them all up again. Then she hurried over to the 
 windows and looked out into the night. The moonlight 
 was streaming full down the path through the trees. In 
 a few moments Peg went to the foot of the stairs and 
 listened. Not hearing anything she crept upstairs into 
 her own little Mauve-Room, found a cloak and some 
 slippers and a hat and just as quietly crept down again 
 into the living-room. 
 
 She just had time to hide the cloak and hat and slippers 
 on the immense window-seat when the door opened and 
 Ethel came into the room. She walked straight to the 
 staircase without looking at Peg, and began to mount 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Hello, Ethel ! " called out Peg, all remembrance of 
 the violent discussion gone in the excitement of the pres- 
 ent. " I'm studyin' for an hour. Are yez still angry 
 with me ? Won't ye say ' good night ' ? Well, then, I 
 will. Good night, Ethel, an' God bless you." 
 
 Ethel disappeared in the bend of the stairs. 
 
 Peg listened again until all was still, then she crept 
 icross the room, turned back the carpet and picked up 
 ler treasure her marvellous book of "Love-Stories." 
 
 She took it to the table, made an island of it as was 
 jer wont and began to read the precious book con- 
 cealed by histories and atlases, et cetera. 
 
 Her little heart beat excitedly. 
 
 The one thought that beat through her quick brain 
 was: 
 
 " Will Jerry come back for me? "
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE DANCE AND ITS SEQUEL 
 
 MRS. CHICHESTER'S uncompromising attitude had a 
 great deal to do with what followed. Had she shown the 
 slightest suggestion of fairness or kindness toward Peg 
 things might have resulted differently. 
 
 But her adamantine attitude decided Jerry. 
 
 He resolved to fly in the face of the proprieties. 
 
 He would take the little child to the Assembly Rooms, 
 put her in the care of his mother and sisters and safe- 
 guard at least one evening's pleasure for her. 
 
 And this he did. 
 
 He met her at the foot of the path when he saw all the 
 lights disappear in the house. 
 
 They walked across the lawns and meadows on that 
 beautiful July night with the moon shining down on 
 them. 
 
 Once at the great hall his mother put the gauche little 
 Peg at her ease, introduced her to the most charming 
 of partners, and saw that everything was done to minister 
 to her enjoyment. 
 
 It was a wonderful night for Peg. 
 
 She danced every dance: she had the supper one witH 
 Jerry: she laughed and sang and romped and was the 
 centre of all the attention. What might have appeared 
 boldness in another with Peg was just her innocent, 
 wilful, child-like nature. She made a wonderful impres- 
 sion that night and became a general favourite. She 
 wanted it to go on and on and to never stop. When the 
 
 last waltz was played, and encored, and the ball was 
 
 260
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 261 
 
 really ended, Peg felt a pang of regret such as she had 
 not felt for a long, long time. 
 
 It was the first real note of pleasure she had experi- 
 enced in England and now it was ended and to-morrow 
 had to be faced and the truth told. What would hap- 
 pen? What course would Mrs. Chichester take? Send 
 her away? Perhaps and then ? Peg brushed the 
 thought away. At all events she had enjoyed that one 
 wonderful evening. 
 
 " Oh, I am so happy ! So happy ! " she cried, as 
 Jerry led her back to her seat at the conclusion of the 
 last dance. " Sure the whole wurrld seems to be goin* 
 round and round and round in one grand waltz. It's the 
 first time I've been ralely happy since I came here. And 
 it's been through you! Through you! Thank ye, 
 Jerry." 
 
 " I'm glad it has been through me, Peg," said Jerry 
 quietly. 
 
 " Faith these are the only moments in life that count 
 the happy ones. Why can't it always be like this ? 
 Why shouldn't we just laugh and dance our way through 
 it all ? " went on Peg excitedly. The rhythm of the 
 movement of the dance was in her blood : the lights were 
 dancing before her eyes: the music beat in on her brain. 
 
 " I wish I could make the world one great ball-room 
 for you," said Jerry earnestly. 
 
 "Do ye?" asked Peg tremulously. 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " With you as me partner? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Dancin' ivery dance with me?" 
 
 " Every one." 
 
 "Wouldn't that be beautiful? An' no creepin' back 
 afther it all like a thief in the night? "
 
 262 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " No," replied Jerry. " Your own mistress, free to 
 do whatever you wished." 
 
 ** Oh," she cried impulsively ; " wouldn't that be 
 wondherful ! " Suddenly she gave a little elfish chuckle 
 and whispered: 
 
 " But half the fun to-night has been that I'm supposed 
 to be sleepin' across beyant there and here I am stalin' 
 time." She crooned softly : 
 
 " 'Sure the best of all ways to lengthen our days, 
 Is to stale a few hours from the night, me dear.' " 
 
 " You've stolen them ! " said Jerry softly. 
 
 " I'm a thief, sure ! " replied Peg with a little laugh. 
 
 ** You're the the sweetest dearest " he sud- 
 denly checked himself. 
 
 His mother had come across to say " Good night " to 
 Peg. In a few moments his sisters joined them. They 
 all pressed invitations on Peg to call on them at " Noel's 
 Folly " and with Mrs. Chichester's permission, to stay 
 some days. 
 
 Jerry got her cloak and just as they were leaving the 
 hall the band struck up again, by special request, and 
 began to play a new French waltz. Peg wanted to go 
 back but Jerry suggested it would be wiser now for her 
 to go home since his mother had driven away. 
 
 Back across the meadows and through the lanes, under 
 that marvellous moon and with the wild beat of the 
 Continental Walse echoing from the ball-room, walked 
 Peg and Jerry, side by side, in silence. Both were busy 
 with their thoughts. After a little while Peg whispered: 
 
 "Jerry?" 
 
 "Peg?" 
 
 " What were you goin' to say to me when yer mother 
 came up to us just now? "
 
 He kissed her hand reverently
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 263 
 
 " Something it would be better to say in the daylight, 
 Peg." 
 
 " Sure, why the daylight? Look at the moon so high 
 in the heavens." 
 
 " Wait until to-morrow." 
 
 " I'll not slape a wink thinkin' of all the wondherful 
 things that happened this night. Tell me Jerry 
 yer mother and yer sisters they weren't ashamed o' 
 me, were they? " 
 
 " Why of course not. They were charmed with you." 
 
 "Were they? Ralely? " 
 
 " Really, Peg." 
 
 " Shall I ever see them again ? " 
 
 " I hope some day you'll see a great deal of them." 
 
 They reached the windows leading into the now famous 
 to Peg living-room. He held out his hand : 
 
 " Good night, Peg." 
 
 " What a hurry ye are in to get rid o' me. An' a 
 night like this may never come again." 
 
 Suddenly a quick flash of jealousy startled through 
 her: 
 
 " Are ye goin' back to the dance? Are ye goin' to 
 dance the extra ones ye wouldn't take me back for? " 
 
 " Not if you don't wish me to." 
 
 " Plaze don't," she pleaded earnestly.' " I wouldn't 
 rest aisy if I thought of you with yer arm around one 
 of those fine ladies' waists, as it was around mine such a 
 little while ago an* me all alone here. Ye won't, will 
 ye?" 
 
 "No, Peg; I will not." 
 
 " An' will ye think o' me ? " 
 
 "Yes, Peg, I will." 
 
 "All the time?" 
 
 All the time."
 
 264 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " An' I will o' you. An' I'll pray for ye that no 
 harm may come to ye, an' that He will bless ye for 
 makin' me happy." 
 
 " Thank you, Peg." 
 
 He motioned her to go in. He was getting anxious. 
 Their voices might be heard. 
 
 "Must I go in now? " asked Peg. " Now? " she re- 
 peated. 
 
 "You must." 
 
 " With the moon so high in the heavens ? " 
 
 " Someone might come." 
 
 " An' the music comin' across the lawn ? " 
 
 " I don't want you to get into trouble," he urged. 
 
 " All right," said Peg, half resignedly. " I suppose 
 you know best. Good night, Jerry, and thank ye." 
 
 " Good night, Peg." 
 
 He bent down and kissed her hand reverently. 
 
 At the same moment the sound of a high-power auto- 
 mobile was heard in the near distance. The brakes were 
 put on and the car came to a stand-still. Then the sound 
 of footsteps was heard distinctly coming toward the 
 windows. 
 
 " Take care," cried Jerry. " Go in. Someone is 
 coming." 
 
 Peg hurried in and hid just inside the windows and 
 heard every word that followed. 
 
 As Peg disappeared Jerry walked down the path to 
 meet the visitor. He came face to face with Christian 
 Brent. 
 
 " Hello, Brent," he said in surprise. 
 
 " Why, what in the world ? " cried that astonished 
 gentleman. 
 
 " The house is asleep," said Jerry, explanatorily. 
 
 " So I see," and Brent glanced up at the darkened
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 265 
 
 < 
 
 windows. There was a moment's pause. Then out of 
 the embarrassing silence Jerry remarked: 
 
 "Just coming from the dance? I didn't see you 
 there." 
 
 " No," replied the uncomfortable Brent. " I was rest- 
 less and just strolled here." 
 
 " Oh ! Let us go on to the road." 
 
 " Right," said the other man, and they walked on. 
 
 Before they had gone a few steps Jerry .stopped 
 abruptly. Right in front of him at the gate was a forty- 
 horse-power " Mercedes " automobile. 
 
 " Strolled here ? Why, you have your car ! " said 
 Jerry. 
 
 " Yes," replied Brent hurriedly. " It's a bright night 
 for a spin." 
 
 The two men went on out of hearing.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 PEG INTERVENES 
 
 PEG listened until she heard the faint sounds in 
 the distance of the automobile being started then si- 
 lence. 
 
 She crept softly upstairs. Just as she reached the top 
 Ethel appeared from behind the curtains on her way 
 down to the room. She was fully dressed and carried a 
 small travelling bag. 
 
 Peg looked at her in amazement. 
 
 " Ethel ! " she said in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " You ! " cried Ethel, under her breath and glaring at 
 Peg furiously. 
 
 " Please don't tell anyone ye've seen me ! " begged 
 Peg. 
 
 " Go down into the room ! " Ethel ordered. 
 
 Peg went down the stairs into the dark room, lit only 
 by the stream of moonlight coming in through the win- 
 dows at the back. Ethel followed her: 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " 
 
 " I've been to the dance. Oh, ye won't tell me aunt, 
 will ye ? She'd send me away an' I don't want to go now, 
 indade I don't." 
 
 ** To the dance? " repeated Ethel, incredulously. Try 
 as she would she could not rid herself of the feeling that 
 Peg was there to watch her. 
 
 " To the dance? " she asked again. 
 
 " Yes. Mr. Jerry took me." 
 
 " Jerry took you ? " 
 
 " Yer mother wouldn't let me go. So Jerry came back 
 
 266
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 267 
 
 for me when ye were all in bed and he took me himself. 
 And I enjoyed it so much. An' I don't want yer mother 
 to know about it. Ye won't tell her, will ye ? " 
 
 " I shall most certainly see that my mother knows of 
 it." 
 
 " Ye will ? " cried poor, broken-hearted Peg. 
 
 " I shall. You had no right to go." 
 
 "Why are ye so hard on me, Ethel?" 
 
 " Because I detest you." 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Peg simply. " Ye've spoiled all 
 me pleasure now. Good night, Ethel." 
 
 Sore at heart and thoroughly unhappy, poor Peg 
 turned away from Ethel and began to climb the stairs. 
 When she was about half-way up a thought flashed across 
 her. She came back quickly into the room and went 
 straight across to Ethel. 
 
 " And what are you doin' here at this time o' night ? 
 An' dressed like that? An' with that bag? What does 
 it mane? Where are ye goin'? " 
 
 " Go to your room ! " said Ethel, livid with anger, and 
 trying to keep her voice down and to hush Peg in case 
 her family were awakened. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you were going with " 
 
 Ethel covered Peg's mouth with her hand. 
 
 " Keep down your voice, you little fool ! " 
 
 Peg freed herself. Her temper was up, too. The 
 thought of why Ethel was there was uppermost in her 
 mind as she cried: 
 
 " He was here a minnit ago an' Mr. Jerry took him 
 away." 
 
 " He? " said Ethel, frightenedly. 
 
 " Mr. Brent," answered Peg. 
 
 Ethel went quickly to the windows. Peg sprang in 
 front of her and caught her by the wrists.
 
 268 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Were ye goin' away with Mm? Were ye ? " 
 
 " Take your hands off me." 
 
 " Were ye goin' away with him ? Answer me ? " in- 
 sisted Peg. 
 
 "Yes," replied Ethel vehemently. "And I am." 
 
 " No ye're not," said the indomitable Peg holding her 
 firmly by the wrist. 
 
 " Let me go ! " whispered Ethel, struggling to release 
 herself. 
 
 " Ye're not goin' out o' this house to-night if I have 
 to wake everyone in it." 
 
 "Wake them!" cried Ethel. "Wake them. They 
 couldn't stop me. Nothing can stop me now. I'm sick 
 of this living on chanty; sick of meeting you day by day, 
 an implied insult in your every look and word, as much 
 as to say : * I'm giving you your daily bread ; Tm keep- 
 ing the roof over you ! ' I'm sick of it. And I end it 
 to-night. Let me go or I'll I'll " and she tried in 
 vain to release herself from Peg's grip. 
 
 Peg held her resolutely : 
 
 " What d'ye mane by insult? An' yer daily bread? 
 An' kapin' the roof over ye? What are ye ravin' about 
 at all?" 
 
 " I'm at the end to-night. I'm going ! " and she 
 struggled with Peg up to the windows. But Peg did 
 not loose her hold. It was firmer than before. 
 
 " You're not goin' away with him, I tell ye. Ye're not . 
 What d'ye suppose ye'd be goin' to? I'll tell ye. A 
 wakin' an' sleepin' hell that's what it would be." 
 
 " I'm going," said the distracted girl. 
 
 " Ye'd take him from his wife an' her baby ? " 
 
 " He hates them! and I hate this! I tell you I'm 
 going " 
 
 " So ye'd break yer mother's heart an' his wife's just to
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 269 
 
 satisfy yer own selfish pleasure? Well I'm glad / sinned 
 to-night in doin' what I wanted to do since it's given me 
 the chance to save you from doin' the most shameful thing 
 a woman ever did ! " 
 
 " Will you " and Ethel again struggled to get free. 
 
 " You'll stay here and he'll go back to his home if I 
 have to tell everyone and disgrace yez both." 
 
 Ethel cowered down frightenedly. 
 
 " No ! No ! You must not do that ! You must not 
 do that ! " she cried, terror-stricken. 
 
 "Ye just told me yer own mother couldn't stop ye? " 
 said Peg. 
 
 " My mother mustn't know. She mustn't know. Let 
 me go. He is waiting and it is past the time " 
 
 " Let him wait ! " replied Peg firmly. " He gave his 
 name an' life to a woman an' it's yer duty to protect her 
 an' the child she brought him." 
 
 " I'd kill myself first ! " answered Ethel through her 
 clenched teeth. 
 
 " No, ye won't. Ye won't kill yerself at all. Ye might 
 have if ye'd gone with him. Why that's the kind of man 
 that tires of ye in an hour and laves ye to sorrow alone. 
 Doesn't he want to lave the woman now that he swore to 
 cherish at the altar of God? What do ye suppose he'd 
 do to one he took no oath with at all? Now have some 
 sense about it. I know him and his kind very well. 
 Especially him. An' sure it's no compliment he's payin' 
 ye ayther. Faith, he'd ha' made love to me if I'd let 
 him." 
 
 " What? To you? " cried Ethel in astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, to me. Here in this room to-day. If ye hadn't 
 come in when ye did, I'd ha' taught him a lesson he'd ha' 
 carried to his grave, so I would ! " 
 
 " He tried to make love to you? " repeated Ethel in-
 
 270 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 credulously, though a chill came at her heart as she half 
 realised the truth of Peg's accusation. 
 
 " Ever since I've been in this house," replied Peg. 
 " An' to-day he comes toward me with his arms stretched 
 out. ' Kiss an' be friends ! ' sez he an' in you walked." 
 
 "Is that true?" asked Ethel. 
 
 " On me poor mother's memory it is, Ethel," replied 
 Peg. 
 
 Ethel sank down into a chair and covered her eyes. 
 
 " The wretch ! " she wailed, " the wretch ! " 
 
 " That's what he is," said Peg. " An' ye'd give yer life 
 into his kapin' to blacken so that no dacent man or woman 
 would ever look at ye or spake to ye again." 
 
 "No! That is over! That is over!" 
 
 All the self-abasement of consenting to, or even con- 
 sidering going with, such a creature as Brent now came 
 uppermost. She was disgusted through and through to 
 her soul. Suddenly she broke down and tears for the 
 first time within her remembrance came to her. She 
 sobbed and sobbed as she had not done since she was a 
 child. 
 
 " I hate myself," she cried between her sobs. " Oh, 
 how I hate myself." 
 
 Peg was all pity in a moment. She took the little 
 travelling bag away from Ethel and put it on the table. 
 Then with her own hands she staunched Ethel's tears 
 and tried to quiet her. 
 
 "Ethel acushla! Don't do that! Darlin'! Don't!, 
 He's not worth it. Kape yer life an' yer heart clane until 
 the one man in all the wurrld comes to ye with his heart 
 pure too, and then ye'll know what rale happiness means." 
 
 She knelt down beside the sobbing girl and took Ethel 
 in her arms, and tried to comfort her. 
 
 " Sure, then, cry dear, and wash away all the sins of
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 271 
 
 this night. It's the salt of yer tears that'll cleanse yer 
 heart an' fall like Holy Wather on yer sowl. Ssh! 
 There! There! That's enough now. Stop now an' go 
 back to yer room, an' slape until mornin', an' with the 
 sunlight the last thought of all this will go from ye. Ssh ! 
 There now ! Don't ! An' not a wurrd o' what's hap- 
 pened here to-night will cross my lips." 
 
 She helped her cousin up and supported her. Ethel 
 was on the point of fainting, and her body was trembling 
 with the convulsive force of her half-suppressed sobs. 
 
 " Come to my room," said Peg in a whisper, as she 
 helped Ethel over to the stairs. " I'll watch by yer side 
 till mornin'. Lane on me. That's right. Put yer 
 weight on me." 
 
 She picked up the travelling-bag and together the two 
 girls began to ascend the stairs. 
 
 Ethel gave a low choking moan. 
 
 " Don't, dear, ye'll wake up the house," cried Peg 
 anxiously. " We've only a little way to go. Aisy now. 
 Not a sound! Ssh, dear! Not a morsel o' noise." 
 
 Just as the two girls reached the landing, Peg in her 
 anxiety stepped short, missed the top step, lost her foot- 
 ing and fell the entire length of the staircase into the 
 room, smashing a tall china flower-vase that was repos- 
 ing on the post at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 The two girls were too stunned for a moment to move. 
 
 The worst thing that could possibly have happened 
 was just what did happen. 
 
 There would be ah 1 kinds of questions and explana- 
 tions. 
 
 Peg instantly made up her mind that they were not 
 going to know why Ethel was there. 
 
 Ethel must be saved and at any cost. 
 
 She sprang to her feet.
 
 272 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Holy Mother ! " she cried, " the whole house'll be 
 awake! Give me yer hat! Quick! An' yer cloak! 
 An' yer bag ! " Peg began quickly to put on Ethel's 
 hat and cloak. Her own she flung out of sight beneath 
 the great oak table. 
 
 " Now remember," she dictated, " ye came here be- 
 cause ye heard me. Ye weren't goin' out o' the house at 
 all. Ye just heard me movin' about in here. Stick to 
 that." 
 
 The sound of voices in the distance broke in on them. 
 
 " They're comin'," said Peg, anxiously. " Remember 
 ye're here because ye heard me. An' ye were talkin' 
 an' Pll do the rest. Though what in the wurrld I am 
 goin 9 to say and do I don't know at all. Only you were 
 not goin' out o' this house ! That's one thing we've got 
 to stick to. Give me the bag." 
 
 Wearing Ethel's hat and cloak and with Ethel's travel- 
 ling-bag in her hand, staunch little Peg turned to meet 
 the disturbed family, with no thought of herself, just 
 the one abiding resolution to, at any and at all costs, save 
 her cousin Ethel from disgrace.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 " THE REBELLION OF PEG " 
 
 " TAKE care, mater keep back. Let me deal with 
 them." And Alaric with an electric flash-light appeared 
 at the head of the stairs, followed by his mother holding 
 a night-lamp high over her head and peering down into 
 the dark room. 
 
 " It was from here that the sound came, dear," she 
 said to Alaric. 
 
 " Stay up there," replied the valiant youth : " I'll 
 soon find out what's up." 
 
 As Alaric reached the bottom of the stairs, the door 
 just by the staircase opened noiselessly and a large body 
 protruded into the room covered in an equally gigantic 
 bath robe. As the face came stealthily through the door- 
 way, Alaric made one leap and caught the invader by 
 the throat. 
 
 A small, frightened voice cried out: 
 
 " Please don't do that, sir. It's only me ! " 
 
 Alaric flashed the electric-light in the man's face and 
 found it was the unfortunate Jarvis. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " asked Alaric. 
 
 " I heard a disturbance of some kind and came down 
 after it, sir," replied Jarvis, nervously. 
 
 " Guard that door then ! and let no one pass. If 
 there is any one trespassing in here I want to find 
 'em." 
 
 He began a systematic search of the room until sud- 
 denly the reflector from the flash-light shone full on the 
 
 two girls. 
 
 273
 
 274 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Ethel was sitting back fainting in a chair, clinging 
 to Peg, who was standing beside her trembling. 
 
 " Ethel! " cried Alaric in amazement. 
 
 ** Margaret! " said Mrs. Chichester in anger. 
 
 "Well, I mean to say," ejaculated the astounded 
 young man as he walked across to the switch and flooded 
 the room with light. 
 
 '* That will do," ordered Mrs. Chichester, dismissing the 
 equally astonished footman, who passed out, curiosity in 
 every feature. 
 
 " What are you two girls playin' at ? " demanded 
 Alaric. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " asked Mrs. Chichester se- 
 verely. 
 
 " Sure, Ethel heard me here," answered Peg, " an' she 
 came in, an' " 
 
 " What were you doing here ? " 
 
 " I was goin' out an' Ethel heard me an' came in an' 
 stopped me an' " 
 
 " Where were you going? " persisted the old lady. 
 
 " Just out out there " and Peg pointed to the 
 open windows. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester had been examining Peg minutely. 
 She suddenly exclaimed: 
 
 " Why, that is Ethel's cloak." 
 
 " Sure it is," replied Peg, " and this is her hat I've 
 got an' here's her bag " Peg was striving her utmost 
 to divert Mrs. Chichester's attention from Ethel, who was 
 in so tense and nervous a condition that it seemed as if 
 she might faint at any moment. She thrust the dressing- 
 bag into the old lady's hand. Mrs. Chichester opened it 
 immediately and found just inside it Ethel's jewel-box. 
 She took it out and held it up accusingly before Peg's 
 eyes: "Her jewel-box! Where did you get this?"
 
 PEG IX ENGLAND 275 
 
 " I took it," said Peg promptly. 
 
 "Took it?" 
 
 " Yes, aunt, I took it ! 
 
 Mrs. Chichester opened the box: it was full. Every 
 jewel that Ethel owned was in it. 
 
 "Her jewels! Ethel's jewels?" 
 
 Yes I took them too." 
 
 " You were stealing them ? " 
 
 "No. I wasn't stealing them, I just took 'em!" 
 
 " Why did you take them? " 
 
 " I wanted to wear them," answered Peg readily. 
 
 "Northern?" 
 
 " Yes wear them*" Suddenly Peg saw a way of es- 
 cape, and she jumped quickly at it. " I wanted to wear 
 them at the dance." 
 
 " What dance ? " demanded Mrs. Chichester, growing 
 more suspicious every moment. 
 
 " Over there in the Assembly Rooms. To-night. I 
 went over there, an' I danced. An' when I came back I 
 made a noise, an' Ethel heard me, an' she threw on some 
 clothes, an' she came in here to see who it was, an' it was 
 me, an' were both goin' up to bed when I slipped an' 
 fell down the stairs, an' some noisy thing fell down with 
 me an' that's all." 
 
 Peg paused for want of breath. Ethel clung to her. 
 Mrs. Chichester, not by any means satisfied with the ex- 
 planation, was about to prosecute her inquiries further, 
 when Alaric called out from the window: 
 
 " There's some one prowling in the garden. He's on 
 the path ! He's coming here. Don't be frightened, 
 mater. I'll deal with him." And he boldly went up the 
 steps leading into the alcove to meet the marauder. 
 
 Ethel half rose from the chair and whispered : " Mr. 
 Brent!"
 
 276 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Peg pressed her back into the chair and turned toward 
 the windows. 
 
 On came the footsteps nearer and nearer until they 
 were heard to be mounting the steps from the garden into 
 the alcove. 
 
 Alaric pushed his electric light full into the visitor's 
 face, and fell back. 
 
 " Good Lord ! Jerry ! " he ej aculated, completely 
 astonished. " I say, ye know," he went on, " what is 
 happening in this house to-night ? " 
 
 Jerry came straight down to Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " I saw your lights go up and I came here on the run. 
 I guessed something like this had happened. Don't be 
 hard on your niece, Mrs. Chichester. The whole thing 
 was entirely my fault. I asked her to go." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked at him stonily. 
 
 " You took my niece to a dance in spite of my absolute 
 refusal to allow her to go ? " 
 
 " He had nothin' to do with it," said Peg, " I took 
 him to that dance." She wasn't going to allow Jerry to 
 be abused without lodging a protest. After all it was 
 her fault. She made him take her. Very well she 
 would take the blame. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked steadily at Jerry for a few 
 moments before she spoke. When she did speak her voice 
 was cold and hard and accusatory. 
 
 " Surely, Sir Gerald Adair knows better than to take 
 a girl of eighteen to a public ball without her relations' 
 sanction? " 
 
 " I thought only of the pleasure it would give her," 
 he answered. " Please accept my sincerest apolo- 
 gies." 
 
 Peg looked at him in wonder: 
 
 " Sir Gerald Adair! Are you Sir Gerald Adair? "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 277 
 
 "Yes, Peg." 
 
 " So ye have a title, have yez ? " 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 Peg felt somehow that she had been cheated. Why had 
 he not told her? Why did he let her play and romp and 
 joke and banter with him as though they had been chil- 
 dren and equals? It wasn't fair! He was just laughing 
 at her! Just laughing at her! All her spirit was in 
 quick revolt. 
 
 " Do you realise what you have done ? " broke in Mrs. 
 Chichester. 
 
 " I'm just beginning to," replied Peg bitterly. 
 
 " I am ashamed of you ! You have disgraced us all ! " 
 cried Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " Have I? " screamed Peg fiercely. " Well, if I have 
 then I am goin' back to some one who'd never be ashamed 
 o' me, no matter what I did. Here I've never been al- 
 lowed to do one thing I've wanted to. He lets me do 
 everything I want because he loves and trusts me an' what- 
 ever I do is right because / do it. I've disgraced ye, have 
 I? Well, none of you can tell me the truth. I'm goin' 
 back to me father." 
 
 " Go back to your father and glad we are to be rid of 
 you ! " answered Mrs. Chichester furiously. 
 
 " I am goin' back to him " 
 
 Before she could say anything further, Ethel sud- 
 denly rose unsteadily and cried out: 
 
 " Wait, mother ! She mustn't go. We have all been 
 grossly unfair to her. It is / should go. To-night she 
 saved me from she saved me from " suddenly Ethel 
 reached the breaking-point ; she slipped from Peg's arms 
 to the chair and on to the floor and lay quite still. 
 
 Peg knelt down beside her: 
 
 " She's fainted. Stand back give her air get
 
 278 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 some water, some smeDing-salts quick don't stand 
 there lookin' at her : do somethin' ! " 
 
 Peg loosened Ethel's dress and talked to her all the 
 while, and Jerry and Alaric hurried out in different di- 
 rections in quest of restoratives. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester came toward Ethel, thoroughly 
 alarmed and upset. 
 
 But Peg would not let her touch the inanimate girl. 
 
 " Go away from her 1 " cried Peg hysterically. 
 " What good do ye think ye can do her? What do you 
 know about her? You don't know anything about yer 
 children ye don't know how to raise them. Ye don't 
 know a thought in yer child's mind. Why don't ye sit 
 down beside her sometimes and find out what she thinks 
 and who she sees? Take her hand in yer own and get 
 her to open her soul to ye ! Be a mother to her ! A lot 
 you know about motherhood ! I want to tell ye me father 
 knows more about motherhood than any man in the 
 wurrld." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Chichester fell back, crushed and humiliated 
 from Peg's onslaught. 
 
 In a few moments the two men returned with water 
 and salts. After a while Ethel opened her eyes and 
 looked up at Peg. Peg, fearful lest she should begin to 
 accuse herself again, helped her up the stairs to her own 
 room and there she sat beside the unstrung, hysterical 
 girl until she slept, her hand locked in both of Peg's. 
 
 Promising to call in the morning, Jerry left. 
 
 The mother and son returned to their rooms. 
 
 The house was still again. 
 
 But how much had happened that night that went to 
 shaping the characters and lives of these two young 
 girls, who were first looking out at life with the eyes and 
 minds of swiftly advancing womanhood!
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 279 
 
 One thing Peg had resolved: she would not spend 
 another night in the Chichester home. 
 
 Her little heart was bruised and sore. The night had 
 begun so happily: it had ended so wretchedly. 
 
 And to think the one person in whom she trusted had 
 been just amusing himself with her, leading her to be- 
 lieve he was a farmer " less than that " he had once 
 said, and all the time he was a man of breeding and of 
 birth and of title. 
 
 Poor Peg felt so humiliated that she made up her mind 
 she would never see him again. 
 
 In the morning she would go back to the one real af- 
 fection of her life to the man who never hurt or dis- 
 appointed her her father.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A ROOM IN NEW YORK 
 
 WE will now leave Peg for a while and return to one 
 who claimed so much of the reader's attention in the early 
 pages of this history O'Connell. 
 
 It had not been a happy month for him. 
 
 He felt the separation from Peg keenly. At first he 
 was almost inconsolable. He lived in constant dread of 
 hearing that some untoward accident had befallen her. 
 All the days and nights of that journey of Peg's to 
 England, O'Connell had the ever-present premonition of 
 danger. When a cable came, signed ' Montgomery 
 Hawkes,' acquainting O'Connell with the news of Peg's 
 safe arrival, he drew a long breath of relief. 
 
 Then the days passed slowly until Peg's first letter 
 came. It contained the news of Kingsnorth's death 
 Peg's entrance into the Chichester family, her discontent 
 her longing to be back once more in New York. This 
 was followed by more letters all more or less in the same 
 key. Finally he wrote urging her to give it all up and 
 come back to him. He would not have his little daughter 
 tortured for all the advantages those people could give 
 her. Then her letters took on a different aspect. They 
 contained a curious half-note of happiness in them. No 
 more mention of returning. On the contrary, Peg ap- 
 peared to be making the best of the conditions in which 
 she was placed. 
 
 These later letters sefe O'Connell wondering. Had the 
 great Message of Life come to his little Peg? 
 
 Although he always felt it "would come some day, now 
 
 280
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 281 
 
 that it seemed almost a very real possibility, he dreaded it. 
 There were so few natures would understand her. 
 
 Beneath all her resolute and warlike exterior, it would 
 take a keenly observing eye to find the real, gentle, affec- 
 tionate nature that flourished in the sunshine of affection, 
 and would fret and pine amid unsympathetic surround- 
 ings. 
 
 That Peg was developing her character and her nature 
 during those few weeks was clear to O'Connell. The 
 whole tone of her letters had changed. But no word of 
 hers gave him any clue to the real state of her feelings, 
 until one day he received a letter almost entirely com- 
 posed of descriptions of the appearance, mode of speech, 
 method of thought and expression of one " Jerry." The 
 description of the man appealed to him, he apparently 
 having so many things in common with the mysterious 
 person who had so vividly impressed himself on Peg. 
 Apparently Peg was half trying to improve herself. 
 There was a distinct note of seriousness about the last 
 letter. It was drawing near the end of the month and 
 she was going to ask her aunt to let her stay on for 
 another month if her father did not mind. She did not 
 want him to be unhappy, and if he was miserable without 
 her, why she would sail back to New York on the very 
 first steamer. He wrote her a long affectionate letter, 
 telling her that whatever made her happy would make 
 him, too, and that she must not, on any account, think 
 of returning to New York if she found that she was help- 
 ing her future by staying with her aunt. All through the 
 letter he kept up apparent high spirits, and ended it 
 with a cheery exhortation to stay away from him just 
 as long as she could; not to think of returning until it 
 was absolutely necessary. 
 
 It was with a heavy heart he posted that letter. Back
 
 282 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 of his brain he had hoped all through that month that 
 Peg would refuse to stay any longer in England. 
 
 Her determination to stay was a severe blow to him. 
 
 He lived entirely alone in the same rooms he had with 
 Peg when she was summoned abroad. 
 
 He was preparing, in his spare time, a history of the 
 Irish movement from twenty years before down to the 
 present day. It was fascinating work for him, embody- 
 ing as it did all he had ever felt and thought or done for 
 the " Great Cause." 
 
 In addition to this work that occupied so many of 
 his free hours he would give an occasional lecture on 
 Irish conditions or take part as adviser in some Irish 
 pageant. He became rapidly one of the best liked and 
 most respected of the thoughtful, active, executive Irish- 
 men in New York City. 
 
 The night of the day following the incidents in the 
 preceding chapter incidents that determined Peg's fu- 
 ture O'Connell was sitting in his little work room, sur- 
 rounded by books of reference, and loose sheets of 
 manuscript, developing his great work the real work of 
 his life because in it he would incorporate everything 
 that would further the march of advancement in Ireland 
 to work and thought and government by her people. 
 
 A ring at the bell caused O'Connell to look up frown- 
 ingly. He was not in the habit of receiving calls. Few 
 people ever dared to intrude on his privacy. He pre- 
 ferred to be alone with his work. It passed the time of 
 separation from Peg quicker than in any other way. 
 
 He opened the door and looked in amazement at his 
 visitor. He saw a little, round, merry-looking, bald- 
 headed gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles, an enor- 
 mous silk-hat, broad cloth frock-coat suit, patent boots 
 with grey spats on them, and a general air of prosperity
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 283 
 
 and good nature that impressed itself on even the most 
 casual observer. 
 
 "Is that Frank O'Cbnnell?" cried the little man. 
 
 " It is," said O'Connell, trying in vain to see the man's 
 features distinctly in the dim light. There was a familiar 
 ring in his voice that seemed to take O'Connell back many 
 years. 
 
 " You're not tellin' me ye've forgotten me ? " asked the 
 little man, reproachfully. 
 
 " Come into the light and let me see the face of ye. 
 Yer voice sounds familiar to me, I'm thinkin'," replied 
 O'Connell. 
 
 The little man came into the room, took off his heavy 
 silk-hat and looked up at O'Connell with a quizzing look 
 in his laughing eyes. 
 
 " McGinnis ! " was all the astonished agitator could 
 say. 
 
 " That's who it is ! ' Talkative McGinnis,' come all 
 the way from ould Ireland to take ye by the hand." 
 
 The two men shook hands warmly and in a few mo- 
 ments O'Connell had the little doctor in the most com- 
 fortable seat in the room, a cigar between his lips and a 
 glass of whiskey-and-water at his elbow. 
 
 " An' what in the wurrld brings ye here, docthor? " 
 asked O'Connell. 
 
 " Didn't ye hear? " 
 
 " I've heard nothin', I'm tellin 5 ye." 
 
 " Ye didn't hear of me old grand-uncle, McNamara of ' 
 County Sligo dyin' after a useless life and doin' the 
 only thing that made me proud of him now that he's 
 g 0ne ma y he slape in peace lavin 9 the money he'd 
 kept such a close fist on all his life to his God-fearin' 
 nephew so that he can spind the rest of his days in com- 
 fort? Didn't ye hear that?"
 
 284 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I did not. And who was the nephew that came into 
 it?" 
 
 " Meself , Frank O'Connell ! " 
 " You! Is it the truth ye're tellin' me? " 
 " May I niwer spake another wurrd if I'm not." 
 O'Connell took the little man's hand and shook it until 
 the doctor screamed out to him to let it go. 
 
 " What are ye doin' at all crushin' the f eelin' out of 
 me? Sure that's no way to show yer appreciation," and 
 McGinnis held the crushed hand to the side of his face in 
 pain. 
 
 " It's sorry I am if I hurt ye and it's glad I am at the 
 cause. So it's a wealthy man ye are now, docthor, eh? " 
 " Middlin' wealthy." 
 
 " And what are ye doin' in New York ? " 
 " Sure this is the counthry to take money to. It 
 doubles itself out here over night, they tell me." 
 
 " Yer takin' it away from the land of yer birth ? " 
 " That's what I'm doin' until I make it into enough 
 where I can go back and do some good. It's tired I am 
 of blood-lettin', and patchin' up the sick and ailin', fevers 
 an' all. I've got a few years left to en j oy meself an' 
 I'm seventy come November an' I mane to do it." 
 "How did ye find me?" 
 
 " Who should I meet in the sthreet this mornin' an' 
 me here a week but Patrick Kinsella, big as a house 
 and his face all covered in whiskers him that I took 
 into me own home the night they cracked his skull up 
 beyant the hill when O'Brien came to talk to us. 
 
 " * What are yer doin' here at all ? ' sez I. ' Faith, 
 it's the f oine thing I'm in,' sez he. ' An' what is it ? ' sez I. 
 * Politics ! ' sez he, with a knowin' grin. ' Politics is it? ' 
 I asks, all innocent as a baby. ' That's what I'm doin',' 
 sez he. ' An' I want to tell ye the Irish are wastin' their
 
 time worryin- their heads over their own country when 
 here's a great foine beautiful rich one over here just ripe, 
 an' waitin' to be plucked. What wud we be doin' tryin' 
 to run Ireland when we can run America. Answer me 
 that,' sez he. ' Run America? ' sez I, all dazed. 'That's 
 what the Irish are doin' this minnit. Ye'd betther get 
 on in while the goin's good. It's a wondherful melon the 
 Irish are gom' to cut out here one o' these fine days,' 
 an' he gave me a knowin' grin, shouted to me where he 
 was to be found and away he wint. 
 
 " There's many a backslider from the ' Cause ' out here, 
 I'm thinkin'," continued the doctor. 
 
 " If it's me ye mane, ye're wrong. I'm no backslider." 
 
 " Kinsella towld me where to find ye. Sure it's many's 
 the long day since ye lay on yer back in ' The Gap ' 
 with yer hide full o' lead, and ye cursin' the English gov- 
 ernment. Ye think different now maybe to what ye <?id 
 then?" 
 
 " Sure I think different. Other times, other "Ways. 
 But if it hadn't been for the methods of twenty years ago 
 we wouldn't be doin' things so peaceably now. It was 
 the attitude of Irishmen in Ireland that made them legis- 
 late for us. It wasn't the Irish members in Westminster 
 that did it." 
 
 " That's thrue for ye." 
 
 " It was the pluck and determination and states- 
 manship and unflinchin' not-to-be-quieted-or-deterred 
 attitude of them days that's brought the goal we've all 
 been aimin' at in sight. An' it's a happier an' more 
 contented an' healthier an' cleaner Ireland we're seein' 
 to-day than the wun we had to face as childhren." 
 
 " Thrue for ye agen. I see ye've not lost the gift o' 
 the gab. Ye've got it with ye still, Frank O'Connell." 
 
 " Faith an' while I'm talkin' of the one thing in the
 
 286 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 wurrld that's near our hearts the future of Ireland 
 I want to prophesy " 
 
 ** Prophesy is it? " 
 
 " That's what I want to do." 
 
 " An' what's it ye'd be af ther prophesying ? " 
 
 " This : that ten years from now, with her own Gov- 
 ernment, with her own language back again Gaelic 
 an' what language in the wurrld yields greater music 
 than the old Gaelic ? with Ireland united and Ireland's 
 land in the care of Irishmen: with Ireland's people self- 
 respectin' an' sober an' healthy an' educated: with 
 Irishmen employed on Irish industries, exportin' them 
 all over the wurrld: with Ireland's heart beatin' with 
 hope an' faith in the future do ye know what will 
 happen ? " 
 
 "Go on, Frank O'Connell. I love to listen to ye. 
 I^on't stop," 
 
 " I'll tell ye what will happen ! Back will go the 
 Irishmen in tens o' thousands from all the other 
 counthries they were dhriven to in the days o' famine 
 an' oppression an' coercion an' buck-shot back they 
 will go to their mother counthry. An' can ye see far 
 enough into the future to realise what that will do? Ye 
 can't. Well, I'll tell ye that, too. The exiled Irish, who 
 have lived their lives abroad takin' their wives, like 
 as not, from the people o' the counthry they lived in an' 
 not from their own stock when they go back to Ire- 
 land with different outlooks, with different manners an' 
 with different tastes, so long as they've kept the hearts 
 o' them thrue an' loyal just so long as they've done 
 that an' kept the Faith o' their forefathers they'll 
 form a new Nation^ an' a Nation with all the best o' the 
 old the great big Faith an' Hope o' the old ' 
 added to the prosperity an' education an' business-
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 287 
 
 like principles an' statesmanship o' the New an' it's 
 the blood o' the great Old an' the power o' the great New 
 that'll make the Ireland o' the future one o' the greatest 
 Nations in Peace as she has always been in War." 
 
 O'Connell's voice died away as he looked out across 
 the years to come. And the light of prophecy shone in 
 his eyes, and the eerie tone of the seer was in his voice. 
 
 It was the Ireland he had dreamed of! Ireland free, 
 prosperous, contented happy. Ireland speaking and 
 writing in her national tongue! Ireland with all the 
 depth of the poetic nature of the peasant equal to the 
 peer! Ireland handling her own resources, developing 
 her own national character, responsible before the World 
 and not to an alien nation for her acts an Ireland 
 triumphant. 
 
 Even if he would not live to see the golden harvest 
 ripen he felt proud to be one of those who helped, in 
 the days of stress that were gone, her people, to the 
 benefiting of the future generations, who would have a 
 legacy of development by pacific measures, what he and 
 his forefathers strove to accomplish by the loss of their 
 liberty and the shedding of their blood. 
 
 " Sure it's the big position they should give you on 
 College Green when they get their own government again, 
 Frank O'Connell," the little doctor said, shaking his head 
 knowingly. 
 
 " The race has been everythin' to me : the prize if 
 there's one 'ud be nothin'. A roof to me head and a 
 bite to eat is all I need by day so long as the little girl 
 is cared for." 
 
 " An' where is the little blue-eyed maiden ? Peg o' 
 your heart? Where is she at all?" 
 
 " It's in London she is." 
 
 " London ! "
 
 288 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Aye. She's with an aunt o' hers bein' educated an' 
 the like." 
 
 " Is it English ye're goin' to bring her up ? " cried the 
 doctor in horror and disgust. 
 
 " No, it's not, Docthor McGinnis an' ye ought to 
 know me betther than to sit there an' ask me such a ques- 
 tion. Bring her up English? when the one regret o' me 
 life is I never knew enough Gaelic to tache her the lan- 
 guage so that we'd be free of the English speech anyway. 
 Bring her up English ! I never heard the like o' that in 
 me life." 
 
 " Then what is she doin' there at all? " 
 
 " Now listen, McGinnis, and listen well an' then 
 ye'll never ask such a question again. When the good 
 Lord calls me to Himself it's little enough I'll have to lave 
 me little Peg. An' that thought has been throublin' me 
 these years past. I'm not the kind that makes money 
 easily or that kapes the little I earn. An' the chance 
 came to give Peg advantages I could never give her. Her 
 mother's people offered to take her and it's with them she 
 has been this last month. But with all their breedin' an' 
 their fine manners and soft speech they've not changed 
 Peg not changed her in the least. Her letthers to me 
 are just as sweet an' simple as if she were standin' there 
 talkin' to me. An' I wish she were standin' here now 
 this minnit," and his eyes filled up and he turned away. 
 
 McGinnis jumped up quickly and turned the tall, 
 bronzed man around with a hand on each shoulder 
 though he had to stand tip-toe to do it, and poured forth 
 his feelings as follows: 
 
 " Send for her ! Bring her back to ye ! Why man, 
 yer heart is heavy without her; aye, just as yer hair 
 is goin' grey, so is yer life without the one thing 
 in it that kapes it warm and bright. Send for
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 289 
 
 her! Don't let the Saxons get hold of her with their 
 flattherin' ways and their insincerities, an' all. Bring 
 her back to ye and kape her with ye until the right man 
 comes along an' he must be an Irishman straight 
 of limb an' of character with the joy of livin' in his 
 heart and the love of yer little girl first to him in the 
 wurrld, an' then ye'll know ye've done the right thing by 
 her ; for it's the only happiness yer Peg'll ever know to 
 be an Irish wife an' an Irish mother as well as an Irish 
 daughther. Send for her I'm tellin' ye, Frank O'Con- 
 nell, or it's the sore rod ye'll be makin' for yer own 
 back." 
 
 McGinnis's words sank in. 
 
 When they parted for the night with many promises 
 to meet again ere long, O'Connell sat down and wrote 
 Peg a long letter, leaving the choice in her hands, but 
 telling her how much he would like to have her back with 
 him. He wrote the letter again and again and each time 
 destroyed it. It seemed so clumsy. 
 
 It was so hard to express just what he felt. He decided 
 to leave it until morning. 
 
 All that night he tossed about in feverish unrest. He 
 could not sleep. He had a feeling of impending ca- 
 lamity. 
 
 Toward dawn he woke, and lighting a lamp wrote out 
 a cable message: 
 
 Miss Margaret O'Connell 
 c/o Mrs. Chichester 
 
 Regal Villa, Scarboro, England 
 Please come back to me. I want you. Love from 
 
 YOUR AFFECTIONATE FATHER. 
 
 Relieved in his mind, he put the message on the table, 
 intending to send it on his way to business.
 
 290 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Then he slept until breakfast-time without a dream. 
 
 His Peg would get the message and she would come to 
 him. 
 
 At breakfast a cable was brought to him. 
 
 He opened it and looked in bewilderment at the con- 
 tents : 
 
 " Sailing to-day for New York on White Star boat Celtic. 
 Love. PEG." 
 
 . f
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE MOENING AFTEE 
 
 THE morning after the incident following Peg's dis- 
 obedience in going to the dance, and her subsequent 
 rebellion and declaration of independence, found all 
 the inmates of Regal Villa in a most unsettled con-i 
 dition. 
 
 Peg had, as was indicated in a preceding chapter > 
 remained by Ethel's side until morning, when, seeing that 
 her cousin was sleeping peacefully, she had gone to her 
 own room to prepare for her leaving. 
 
 One thing she was positive about she would take 
 nothing out of that house she did not bring into it 
 even to a heartache. 
 
 She entered the family a month before sore at heart 
 well, she was leaving it in a like condition. 
 
 Whilst she was making her few little preparations, Mrs. 
 Chichester was reviewing the whole situation in her room. 
 She was compelled to admit, however outraged her feel- 
 ings may have been the previous night, that should Peg 
 carry out her intention to desert them, the family would 
 be in a parlous condition. The income from Mr. Kings- 
 north's will was indeed the one note of relief to the dis- 
 tressed household. She had passed a wretched night, and 
 after a cup of tea in her room, and a good long period of 
 reflection, she decided to seek the aid of the head of the 
 family her son. 
 
 She found him in the morning-room lying full length 
 on a lounge reading the " Post." 
 
 He jumped up directly he saw her, led her over to the 
 
 291
 
 292 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 lounge, kissed her, put her down gently beside him and 
 asked her how she was feeling. 
 
 " I didn't close my eyes all night," answered the un- 
 happy old lady. 
 
 "Isn't that rotten?" said Alaric sympathetically. 
 " I was a bit plungy myself first one side and then the 
 other." And he yawned and stretched languidly. 
 " Hate to have one's night's rest broken," he concluded. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked at him sadly. 
 
 " What is to be done ? " she asked, despair in every 
 note. 
 
 " We must get in forty winks during the day some 
 time," he replied, encouragingly. 
 
 " No, no, Alaric. I mean about Margaret? " 
 
 "Oh! The imp? Nothin' that I can see. She's 
 got it into her stubborn little head that she's had enough 
 of us, and that's the end of it ! " 
 
 " And the end of our income," summed up Mrs. Chi- 
 chester, pathetically. 
 
 " Well, you were a bit rough on her, mater. Now, I 
 come to think of it we've all been a bit rough on her 
 except me. I've made her laugh once or twice poor 
 Httle soul. After all, suppose she did want to dance? 
 What's the use of fussing? Let her, 7 say. Let her. 
 Better she should dance and stay, than for us to starve if 
 she goes." 
 
 " Don't reproach me, dear. I did my duty. How 
 could I consent to her going ? A girl of her age ! " 
 
 " Girl ! Why, they're grown women with families in 
 America at her age." 
 
 " Thank God they're not in England." 
 
 " They will be some day, mater. They're kickin' over 
 the traces more and more every day. Watch 'em in a 
 year or two, I say, watch 'em. One time women kept
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 293 
 
 on the pavement. Now they're out in the middle of the 
 road and in thousands! Mark me! What ho!" 
 
 " They are not ivomenl " ejaculated Mrs. Chichester 
 severely. 
 
 " Oh, bless me, yes. They're women all right. I've 
 met 'em. Listened to 'em talk. Some of 'em were rip- 
 pers. Why, there was one girl I really have rather a fash 
 on. Great big girl she is with a deep voice. She had 
 me all quivery for a while." And his mind ran back over 
 his " Militant " past and present. 
 
 " Just when I had begun to have some hope of her ! " 
 Alaric started. 
 
 " I didn't know you met her. Do you know Marjory 
 Fairbanks ? " 
 
 " No," replied Mrs. Chichester, almost sharply : " I 
 mean Margaret." 
 
 "Oh! The little devil? Did ye? I never did. Not 
 a hope! I've always felt she ought to have the inscrip- 
 tion on dear old Shakespeare's grave waving in front of 
 her all the time - * Good friend, for Heaven's sake for- 
 bear.' There's no hope for her, mater. Believe me." 
 
 " I thought that perhaps under our influence in 
 time " 
 
 " Don't you think it. She will always be a Peter Pan. 
 Never grow up. She'd play elfish tricks if she had a 
 nursery full of infants." 
 
 " But," persisted the old lady, " some good man 
 one day might change that." 
 
 " Ah ! But where is he ? Good men who'd take a girl 
 like that in hand are very scarce, mater very scarce 
 indeed. Oh, no. Back she goes to America to-day, and 
 off / go to-morrow to work. Must hold the roof up, 
 mater, and pacify the tradesmen. I've given up the doc- 
 tor idea takes too long to make anything. And it's
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 not altogether a nice way to earn jour living. No; on 
 the whole, I think Canada. . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester rose in alarm: 
 
 " Canada ! my boy ! " 
 
 " Nice big place plenty of room. We're all so 
 crowded together here in England. All the professions 
 are chock-full with people waitiri* to squeeze in some- 
 where. 
 
 " Give me the new big countries ! England is too old 
 and small. A fellow with my temperament can hardly 
 turn round and take a full breath in an island our size. 
 Out there, with millions of acres to choose from, I'll just 
 squat down on a thousand or so, raise cattle, and in a 
 year or two I'll be quite independent. Then back I'll 
 come here and invest it. See? " 
 
 " Don't go away from me, Alaric. I couldn't bear 
 that." 
 
 " All right if you say so, mater. But it does seem 
 a shame to let all that good land go to waste when it can 
 be had for the asking. 
 
 " Well, I'll wander round the fields for a bit, and 
 thrash it all out. 'Stonishing how clear a fellow's head 
 gets in the open air. Don't you worry, mater I'll beat 
 ihe whole thing out by myself." 
 
 He patted the old lady gently on the shoulder, and 
 humming a music-hall ballad cheerfully, started off into 
 the garden. He had only gone a few steps when his 
 mother called to him. He stopped. She joined him 
 excitedly. 
 
 "Oh, Alaric! There is a wa?/-^-one way that would 
 save us." And she trembled as she paused, as if afraid 
 to tell him what the alternative was. 
 
 " Is there, mater? What is it? " 
 
 " It rests with you, dear."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 "Does it? Very good. I'll do it." 
 
 "Will you?" 
 
 " Honour bright, I will." 
 
 "Whatever it is?" 
 
 " To save you and Ethel and the roof, 'course I will. 
 Now you've got me all strung up. Let me hear it." 
 
 She drew him into a little arbour in the rose-garden out 
 of sight and hearing of the open windows. 
 
 " Alaric ? " she asked, in a tone that suggested their 
 fate hung on his answer: "Alaric! Do you like her?" 
 
 "Like whom?" 
 
 "Margaret! Do you?" 
 
 " Here and there. She amuses me like anything at 
 times. She drew a map of Europe once that I think was 
 the most fearful and wonderful thing I have ever seen. 
 She said it was the way her father would like to see Eu- 
 rope. She had England, Scotland and Wales in Ger- 1 
 many, and the rest of the map was Ireland. Made me 
 laugh like anything." And he chuckled at the remem- 
 brance. 
 
 Suddenly Mrs. Chichester placed both of her hands on 
 his shoulders and with tears in her eyes exclaimed: 
 
 " Oh ! my boy ! Alaric ! My son ! " 
 
 "Hello!" cried the astonished youth. "What is it? 
 You're not goin' to cry, are ye ? " 
 
 She was already weeping copiously as she gasped be- 
 tween her sobs: 
 
 " Oh ! If you only could." 
 
 " Could? What? " 
 
 " Take that little wayward child into your life and 
 mould her." 
 
 " Here, one moment, mater? let me get the full forces 
 of your idea. You want me to faould Margaret? '* 
 
 " Yes, dear."
 
 296 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Ha ! " he laughed uneasily. Then said decidedly : 
 " No, mater, no. I can do most things, but as a 
 moulder oh, no. Let Ethel do it if she'll stay, 
 that is." 
 
 " Alaric, my dear I mean to take her really into 
 your life ' to have and to hold.' ' And she looked 
 pleadingly at him through her tear-dimmed eyes. 
 
 " But, I don't want to hold her, mater ! " reasoned her 
 son. 
 
 " It would be the saving of her," urged the old lady. 
 
 " That's all very well, but what about me? " 
 
 " It would be the saving of us all ! " she insisted signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 But Alaric was still obtuse. 
 
 " Now, how would my holding and moulding Margaret 
 save its? " 
 
 The old lady placed her cards deliberately on the table 
 as she said sententiously : 
 
 " She would stay with us here if you -were engaged 
 to her!" 
 
 The shock had come. His mother's terrible alterna- 
 tive was now before him in all its naked horror. A shiver 
 ran through him. The thought of a man, with a future 
 as brilliant as his, being blighted at the outset by such 
 a mesalliance. 
 
 He felt the colour leave his face. 
 
 He knew he was ghastly pale. 
 
 The little arbour seemed to close in on him and stifle 
 him. 
 
 He could scarcely breathe. 
 
 He murmured, his eyes half closed, as if picturing some 
 vivid nightmare : 
 
 " Engaged! Don't, mother, please." He trembled 
 again : " Good lord ! Engaged to that tomboy ! "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 297 
 
 The thought seemed to strike him to the very core of 
 his being. He who might ally himself with anyone sacri- 
 ficing his hopes of happiness and advancement with a 
 child of the earth. 
 
 " Don't, mother ! " he repeated in a cry of entreaty. 
 
 " She has the blood of the Kingsnorths ! " reminded 
 Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " It is pretty well covered up in O'Connell Irish," re- 
 plied Alaric bitterly. " Please don't say any more, ma- 
 ter. You have upset me for the day. Really, you have 
 for the whole day." 
 
 But his mother was not to be shaken so easily in her 
 determination. She went on: 
 
 " She has the breeding of my sister Angela, dear." 
 
 " You wouldn't think it to watch her and listen to her. 
 Now, once and for all " and he tried to pass his mother 
 and go into the garden. 
 
 There was no escape. Mrs. Chichester held him firmly. 
 
 " She will have five thousand pounds a year when she 
 is twenty-one ! " 
 
 She looked the alarmed youth straight in the eyes. 
 She was fighting for her own. She could not bear to 
 think of parting with this home where she had lived so 
 happily with her husband, and where her two children 
 were born and reared. Even though Peg was not of the 
 same caste, much could be done with her. Once accept 
 her into the family and the rest would be easy. 
 
 As she looked piercingly into Alaric's eyes, he caught 
 the full significance of the suggestion. His lips pursed 
 to whistle but no sound came through them. He mut- 
 tered hoarsely, as though he were signing away his right 
 to happiness: 
 
 " Five thousand pounds a year ! Five thousand of 
 the very best ! "
 
 #98 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Mrs. Chichester took the slowly articulated words in 
 token of acceptance. He would do it ! She knew he 
 would ! Always ready to rise to a point of honour and to 
 face a duty or confront a danger, he was indeed her son. 
 
 She took him in her arms and pressed his reluctant 
 and shrinking body to her breast. 
 
 " Oh, my boy ! " she wailed joyfully. " My dear, dear 
 boy!" 
 
 Alaric disengaged himself alertly. 
 
 " Here, half a minute, mater. Half a minute, please. 
 One can't burn all one's boats like that, without a cry for 
 help." 
 
 " Think what it would mean, dear ! Your family pre- 
 served, and a brand snatched from the burning ! " 
 
 " That's just it. It's all right savin' the family. Any 
 <:ove'll do that at a pinch. But I do not see myself as 
 a ' brand-snatcher.' Besides, I am not altogether at lib- 
 erty." 
 
 "What?" cried his mother. 
 
 " Oh, I've not committed myself to anything. But 
 I've been three times to hear that wonderful woman speak 
 * once on the platform! And people are beginning to 
 talk. She thinks no end of me. Sent me a whole lot of 
 stuff last week ' Advanced Literature ' she calls it. 
 I've got 'em all upstairs. Wrote every word of 'em her- 
 self. Never saw a woman who can talk and write as she 
 can. And outside of all that I'm afraid I've more or less 
 encouraged her. And there you are the whole thing 
 in a nutshell." 
 
 " It would unite our blood, Alaric," the fond mother 
 insisted. 
 
 " Oh, hang our blood ! I beg your pardon, mater, 
 but really I can't make our blood the first thing."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 
 
 " It would settle you for life, dear," she suggested 
 after a pause. 
 
 " I'd certainly be settled all right," in a despairing, 
 tone. 
 
 " Think what it would mean, Alaric." 
 
 " I am, mater. I'm thinking and thinking awfully 
 hard. Now, just a moment. Don't let either of us 
 talk. Just let us think. / know how much is at stake 
 for the family, and you realise how much is at stake for 
 me, don't you? " 
 
 " Indeed I do. And if I didn't think you would be 
 happy I would not allow it indeed I wouldn't." 
 
 Alaric thought for a few moments. 
 
 The result of this mental activity took form and sub- 
 stance as follows: 
 
 " She is not half-bad-lookin' at times - when she's 
 properly dressed." 
 
 " I've seen her look almost beautiful! " cried Mrs. Chi- 
 chester. 
 
 Alaric suddenly grew depressed. 
 
 " Shockin' temper, mater ! " and he shook his head 
 despondently. 
 
 " That would soften under the restraining hand of af- 
 fection ! " reasoned his mother. 
 
 " She would have to dress her hair and drop dogs. I 
 will not have a dog all over the place, and I do like tidi- 
 ness in women. Especially their hair. In that I would 
 have to be obeyed." 
 
 " The woman who loves always obeys! " cried his 
 mother. 
 
 " Ah ! There we have it ! " And Alaric sprang up 
 and faced the old lady. " There we have it ! Does she 
 love me? "
 
 300 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked fondly at her only son and 
 answered : 
 
 " How could she be near you for the last month and 
 not love you? " 
 
 Alaric nodded: 
 
 " Of course there is that. Now, let me see just get 
 a solid grip on the whole thing. // she loves me and 
 taking all things into consideration for your sake and 
 darling Ethel's and for my that is " 
 
 He suddenly broke off, took his mother's hand between 
 both of his and pressed it encouragingly, and with the 
 courage of hopefulness, he said: 
 
 " Anyway, mater, it's a go ! I'll do it. It will take a 
 bit of doin', but I'll do it." 
 
 " Bless you, my boy," said the overjoyed mother, 
 " Bless you." 
 
 As they came out of the little arbour it seemed as if 
 Fate had changed the whole horizon for the Chichester 
 family. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester was happy in the consciousness that 
 her home and her family would be free from the biting 
 grip of debt. 
 
 Alaric, on the other hand, seemed to have all the sun- 
 light suddenly stricken out of his life. Still, it was his 
 duty, and duty was in the Chichester motto. 
 
 As mother and son walked slowly toward the house, 
 they looked up, and gazing through a tiny casement of 
 the little Mauve-Room was Peg, her face white and drawn. 
 
 Alaric shivered again as he thought of his sacrifice.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ALARIC TO THE RESCUE 
 
 MRS. CHICHESTER went up to the Mauve-Room a little 
 later and found Peg in the same attitude, looking out of 
 the window thinking. 
 
 " Good morning, Margaret," she began, and her tone 
 was most conciliatory, not to say almost kindly. 
 
 " Good mornin'," replied Peg dully. 
 
 " I am afraid I was a little harsh with you last night," 
 the old lady added. It was the nearest suggestion of an 
 apology Mrs. Chichester had ever made. 
 
 " Ye'll never be again," flashed back Peg sharply. 
 
 " That is exactly what I was saying to Alaric. I shall 
 never be harsh with you again. Never ! " 
 
 If Mrs. Chichester thought the extraordinary unbend- 
 ing would produce an equally Christian-like spirit in 
 Peg, she was unhappily mistaken. Peg did not vary her 
 tone or her attitude. Both were absolutely uncompro- 
 mising. 
 
 " Ye'll have to go to New York if ye ever want to be 
 harsh with me again. That is where ye'll have to go. 
 To New York." 
 
 " You are surely not going to leave us just on account 
 of a few words of correction? " reasoned Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " I am," replied Peg, obstinately. " An* ye've done 
 all the correctin' ye'll ever do with me." 
 
 " Have you thought of all you are giving up? " 
 
 " I thought all through the night of what I am going 
 back to. And I am going back to it as soon as Mr. 
 Hawkes comes. And now, if ye don't mind, I'd rather 
 
 301
 
 302 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 be left alone. I have a whole lot to think about, an' 
 they're not very happy thoughts, ayther an' I'd rather 
 be by meself if ye plaze." 
 
 There was a final air of dismissal about Peg that aston- 
 ished and grieved the old lady. How their places had 
 changed in a few hours ! Yesterday it was Mrs. Chiches- 
 ter who commanded and Peg who obeyed sometimes. 
 
 Now, she was being sent out of a room in her own 
 house, and by her poor little niece. 
 
 As she left the room Mrs. Chichester thought sadly of 
 the condition misfortune had placed her in. She bright- 
 ened as she realised that they had still one chance 
 through Alaric of recouping, even slightly, the family 
 fortunes. The thought flashed through Mrs. Chichester's 
 mind of how little Margaret guessed what an honour was 
 about to be conferred upon her through the nobility of 
 her son in sacrificing himself on the altar of duty. The 
 family were indeed repaying good for evil extending 
 the olive branch in tendering their idol as a peace- 
 offering at the feet of the victorious Peg. 
 
 Meanwhile, that young lady had suddenly remembered 
 two things firstly that she must not return to her 
 father in anything Mrs. Chichester had given her. Out 
 of one of the drawers she took the little old black jacket 
 and skirt and the flat low shoes and the red-flowered hat. 
 Secondly, it darted through her mind that she had left 
 Jerry's present to her in its familiar hiding-place beneath 
 a corner of the carpet. Not waiting to change into the 
 shabby little dress, she hurried downstairs into the empty 
 living-room, ran across, and there, sure enough, was her 
 treasure undisturbed. She took it up and a pang went 
 through her heart as it beat in on her that never again 
 would its donor discuss its contents with her. This 
 gentleman of title, masquerading as a farmer, who had
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 303 
 
 led her on to talk of herself, of her country and of her 
 father, just to amuse himself. The blood surged up to 
 her temples as she thought how he must have laughed 
 at her when he was away from her: though always when 
 with her he showed her the gravest attention, and con- 
 sideration, and courtesy. It was with mingled feelings 
 she walked across the room, the book open in her hand, 
 her eyes scanning some of the familiar and well-remem- 
 bered lines. 
 
 As she reached the foot of the stairs, Alaric came in 
 quickly through the windows. 
 
 " Hello 1 Margaret ! " he cried cheerfully, though his 
 heart was beating nervously at the thought of what he 
 was about to do and across his features there was a 
 sickly pallor. 
 
 Peg turned and looked at him, at the same moment 
 hiding the book behind her back. 
 
 " What have you got there, all tucked away ? " he 
 ventured as the opening question that was to lead to 
 the all-important one. 
 
 Peg held it up for him to see : " The only thing I'm 
 takin' away that I didn't bring with me." 
 
 " A book, eh? " 
 
 " That's what it is a book ; " and she began to go 
 upstairs. 
 
 " Taking it away? " he called up to her. 
 
 " That's what I'm doin'," and she still went on up two 
 more steps. 
 
 Alaric made a supreme effort and followed her. 
 
 "You're not really goin' away cousin?" he 
 gasped. 
 
 " I am," replied Peg. " An' ye can forget the rela- 
 tionship the minnit the cab drives me away from yer 
 door!"
 
 304 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Oh, I say, you know," faltered Alaric. " Don't be 
 cruel!" 
 
 " Cruel, is it? " queried Peg in amazement. " Sure, 
 what's there cruel in that, will ye tell me ? " 
 
 She looked at him curiously. 
 
 For once all Alaric's confidence left him. His tongue 
 was dry and clove to the roof of his mouth. Instead of 
 conferring a distinction on the poor little creature he 
 felt almost as if he were about to ask her a favour. 
 
 He tried to throw a world of tenderness into his voice 
 as he spoke insinuatingly: 
 
 " I thought we were goin' to be such good little 
 friends," and he looked almost languishingly at her. 
 
 For the first time Peg began to feel some interest. 
 Her eyes winked as she said: 
 
 "Did ye? Look at that, now. 7 didn't." 
 
 " I say, you know," and he went up on the same step 
 with her : " I say really ye mustn't let what the 
 mater said last night upset ye ! Really, ye mustn't ! " 
 
 "Mustn't I, now? Well, let me tell ye it did upset 
 me an' Pm still upset an' I'm goin' to kape on bein s 
 upset until I get into the cab that dhrives me from yer 
 door." 
 
 " Oh, come, now what nonsense ! Of course the ma- 
 ter was a teeny bit disappointed that's all. Just a 
 teeny bit. But now it's all over." 
 
 " Well, / was a whole lot disappointed an' it's all 
 over with me, too." She started again to get away from 
 him, but he stepped in front of her. 
 
 " Don't go for a minute. Why not forget the whole 
 thing and let's all settle down into nice, cosy, jolly little 
 pals, eh?" 
 
 He was really beginning to warm to his work the more 
 she made difficulties. It was for Alaric to overcome them.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 305 
 
 The family roof was at stake. He had gone chivalrously 
 to the rescue. He was feeling a gleam of real enthusi- 
 asm. Peg's reply threw a damper again on his progress. 
 
 " Forget it, is it? No I'll not forget it. My mem- 
 ory is not so convaynient. You're not goin' to be dis- 
 graced again through me ! " She passed him and went 
 on to the landing. He followed her eagerly. 
 
 "Just a moment," he cried, stopping her just by an 
 oriel window. She paused in the centre of the glow that 
 radiated from its panes. 
 
 "What is it, now?" she asked impatiently. She 
 wanted to go back to her room and make her final prep- 
 arations. 
 
 Alaric looked at her with what he meant to be adora- 
 tion in his eyes. 
 
 " Do you know, I've grown really awfully fond of 
 you ? " His voice quivered and broke. He had reached 
 one of the crises of his life. 
 
 Peg looked at him and a smile broadened across her 
 face. 
 
 " No, I didn't know it. When did ye find it out? " 
 
 " Just now down in that room when the thought 
 flashed through me that perhaps you really meant to 
 leave us. It went all through me. 'Pon my honour, it 
 did. The idea positively hurt me. Really hurt me." 
 
 "Did it, now?" laughed Peg. "Sure, an' I'm glad 
 of it." 
 
 " Glad ! GLAD ? " he asked in astonishment. 
 
 " I am. I didn't think anythin' could hurt ye unless 
 it disturbed yer comfort. An* I don't see how my goin' 
 will do that." 
 
 " Oh, but it will," persisted Alaric. " Really, it will." 
 
 " Sure, now ? " Peg was growing really curious. 
 What was this odd little fellow trying to tell her? He
 
 306 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 looked so tremendously in earnest about something. 
 What in the world was it? 
 
 Alaric answered her without daring to look at her. 
 
 He fixed his eye on his pointed shoe and said quaver- 
 ingly: 
 
 " You know, meetin' a girl round the house for a whole 
 month, as I've met you, has an awful effect on a fellow. 
 Awful! Really!" " 
 
 " Awful? " cried Peg. 
 
 " Yes, indeed it has. It grows part of one's life, as 
 it were. Not to see you running up and down those 
 stairs: sittin' about all over the place: studyin* all your 
 jolly books and everything you know the thought 
 bruises me really it bruises." 
 
 Peg laughed heartily. Her good humour was coming 
 back to her. 
 
 " Sure, ye'll get over it, Alaric," she said encourag- 
 ingly. 
 
 " That's just it," he protested anxiously. " I'm 
 afraid I won't get over it. Do you know, I'm quite 
 ache-y now. Indeed I am." 
 
 " Ache-y ? " repeated Peg, growing more and more 
 amused. 
 
 Alaric touched his heart tenderly: 
 
 w Yes, really. All round here! " 
 
 " Perhaps it's because I disturbed yer night's rest, 
 Alaric? " 
 
 " You've disturbed all my rest. If you go I'll never 
 have awy rest." Once again he spurred on his flagging 
 spirits and threw all his ardour into the appeal. " I've 
 really begun to care for you very much. Oh, very, very 
 much. It all came to me in a flash down in the room.*' 
 
 And for the moment he really meant it. He be-? 
 gan to see qualities in his little cousin which he had nevep
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 307 
 
 noticed before. And the fact that she was not appar- 
 ently a willing victim, added zest to the attack. 
 
 Peg looked at him with unfeigned interest: 
 
 " Sure, that does ye a great dale of credit. I've been 
 thinkin' all the time I've known ye that ye only cared 
 for yerself like all Englishmen." 
 
 " Oh, no," protested Alaric. " Oh, dear, no. We care 
 a great deal at times oh, a great deal and never say 
 a word about it not a single word. You know we hate 
 to wear our hearts on our sleeves." 
 
 " I don't blame ye. Ye'd wear them out too soon, 
 maybe." 
 
 Alaric felt that the moment had now really come. 
 
 " Cousin," he said, and his voice dropped to the ca- 
 ressing note of a wooer : " Cousin ! Do you know I am 
 going to do something now I've never done before? " 
 
 He paused to let the full force of what was to come 
 have its real value. 
 
 " What is it, Alaric ? " Peg asked, all unconscious of 
 the drama that was taking place in her cousin's heart! 
 " Sure, what is it? Ye're not goin' to do somethin' 
 useful, are ye? " 
 
 He braced himself and went on : " I am going to ask 
 a very charming young lady to marry me. Eh? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " What do ye think o that, now ! " 
 
 " And who do you think it is? " 
 
 He waited, wondering if ske would guess correctly. 
 It would be so helpful if only she could. 
 
 But she was so unexpected. 
 
 " I couldn't guess it in a hundred years, Alaric. Ralely, 
 I couldn't." 
 
 " Oh, try! Do. Try! " he urged.
 
 308 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I couldn't think who'd marry you indade I 
 couldn't. Mebbe the poor girl's blind. Is that it ? " 
 
 " Can't you guess? No? Really? " 
 
 " No, I'm tellin' ye. Who is it? " 
 
 " You! " 
 
 The moment had come. The die was cast. His life 
 was in the hands of Fate and of Peg. He waited 
 breathlessly for the effect. 
 
 Peg looked at him in blank astonishment. 
 
 All expression had left her face. 
 
 Then she leaned back against the balustrade and 
 laughed long and unrestrainedly. She laughed until the 
 tears came coursing down her cheeks. 
 
 Alaric was at first nonplussed. Then he grasped the 
 situation in its full significance. It was just a touch 
 of hysteria. He joined her and laughed heartily as 
 well. 
 
 " Aha ! " he cried, between laughs : " That's a splen- 
 did sign. Splendid ! I've always been told that girls 
 cry when they're proposed to." 
 
 " Sure, that's what I'm doin'," gasped Peg. " I'm 
 cryin' laughin'." 
 
 Alaric suddenly checked his mirth and said seriously: 
 
 " 'Course ye must know, cousin, that I've nothin' to 
 offer you except a life-long devotion: a decent old name 
 and my career when once I get it goin'. I only 
 need an incentive to make no end of a splash in the 
 world. You would be my incentive." 
 
 Peg could hardly believe her ears. She looked at 
 Alaric while her eyes danced mischievously. 
 
 " Go on ! " she said. " Go on. Sure, ye're doin' 
 fine!" 
 
 " Then it's all right?" he asked fervently. 
 
 " Faith ! I think it's wondherf ul."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 309 
 
 " Good. Excellent. But there are one or two lit- 
 tle things to be settled first." 
 
 Even as the victorious general, with the capitulated 
 citadel, it was time to dictate terms. Delays in such 
 matters, Alaric had often been told, were unwise. A 
 clear understanding at the beginning saved endless com- 
 plications afterwards. 
 
 " Just a few little things," he went on, " such as a 
 little obedience that's most essential. A modicum of 
 care about ordinary things, for instance, about dress, 
 speech, hair, et cetera and no * Michael.' ' 
 
 "Oh!" cried Peg dejectedly, while her eyes beamed 
 playfully : 
 
 " Sure, couldn't I have Michael *? " 
 
 " A T o," he said firmly. It was well she should under- 
 stand that once and for all. He had never in a long ex- 
 perience, seen a dog he disliked more. 
 
 " Oh ! " ej aculated Peg, plaintively. 
 
 Prepared to, at any rate, compromise, rather than have 
 an open rupture, he hastened to modify his attitude: 
 
 " At least not in the house." 
 
 " In the stables? " queried Peg. 
 
 *' We'd give him a jolly little kennel somewhere, if 
 you really wanted him, and you could see him say 
 twice a day." 
 
 He felt a thrill of generosity as he thus unbent from 
 his former rigid attitude. 
 
 " Then it wouldn't be ' love me love my dog ' ? " quizzed 
 Peg. 
 
 " Well, really, you know, one cannot regulate one's 
 life by proverbs, cousin. Can one?" he reasoned. 
 
 " But * Michael ' is all I have in the wurrld, except me 
 father. Now, what could ye give me instead of him ? " 
 
 Here was where a little humour would save the whole
 
 310 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 situation. Things were becoming strained and over a 
 dog. 
 
 Alaric would use his subtler humour keen as bright 
 steel and turn the edge of the discussion. 
 
 " What can I give you instead of ' Michael '? " 
 
 He paused, laughed cheerfully and bent tenderly over 
 her and whispered: 
 
 " Myself, dear cousin ! MYSELF ! " and he leaned back 
 and watched the effect. A quick joke at the right mo- 
 ment had so often saved the day. It would again, he was 
 sure. After a moment he whispered softly: 
 
 " What do you say dear cousin? " 
 
 Peg looked up at him, innocently, and answered: 
 
 " Sure, I think I'd rather have ' Michael '- if ve don't 
 mind." 
 
 He started forward : "Oh, come, I say ! You don't 
 mean that? " 
 
 " I do," she answered decidedly. 
 
 "But think just for one moment of the advan- 
 tages? " 
 
 " For you, or for me? " asked Peg. 
 
 " For you of course," replied the disappointed 
 Alaric. 
 
 " I'm thryin' to but I can only think of * Michael. 1 
 Sure, I get more affection out of his bark of greetin' than 
 I've ever got from a human bein' in England. But then 
 he's Irish. No, thank ye, all the same. If it makes no 
 difference to ye, I'd rather have * Michael.' ' 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you refuse me ? " he 
 asked blankly. 
 
 " If ye don't mind," replied Peg meekly. 
 
 " You actually decline my hand and er heart? 
 
 * That's what I do."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 311 
 
 " Really ? " He was still unable to believe it. He 
 wanted to hear her refusal distinctly. 
 
 " Ralely," replied Peg, gravely. 
 
 " Is that final? " 
 
 " It's the most final thing there is in the wurrld," re- 
 plied Peg, on the brink of an outburst of laughter. 
 
 Alaric looked so anxious and crestfallen now in 
 sharp contrast to his attitude of triumph a few moments 
 before. 
 
 To her amazement the gloom lifted from her cousin's 
 countenance. He took a deep breath, looked at her in 
 genuine relief, and cried out heartily: 
 
 " I say! You're a brick!" 
 
 "Am I?" asked Peg. 
 
 " It's really awfully good of you. Some girls in your 
 position would have jumped at me. Positively jumped! " 
 
 *' Would they poor things ! " 
 
 " But you why, you're a genuine, little, hall-marked 
 * A number one brick ' ! I'm extremely obliged to 
 you." 
 
 He took her little hand and shook it warmly. 
 
 " You're a plucky little girl, that's what you are ' 
 a 'plucky little girl. I'll never forget it never. 
 If there is anythin' I can do at any time anywhere 
 call on me. I'll be there right on the spot." 
 
 He heard his mother's voice, speaking to Jarvis, in the 
 room below. At the same moment he saw Ethel walking 
 toward them along the corridor. 
 
 He said hurriedly and fervently to Peg: 
 
 " Bless you, cousin. You've taken an awful load off 
 my mind. I was really worried. I had to ask you. 
 Promised to. See you before you go! Hello! Ethel! 
 All right? Good!" Without waiting for an answer,
 
 3ia PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 the impulsive young gentleman went on up to his own 
 room to rej oice over his escape. 
 
 Peg walked over and took Ethel by both hands and 
 looked into the tired, anxious eyes. 
 
 " Come into my room," she whispered. 
 
 Without a word, Ethel followed her into the Mauve- 
 Room.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MONTGOMERY HAWKES 
 
 ON the 30th day of June, Mr. Montgomery Hawkes 
 glanced at his appointments for the following day and 
 found the entry : " Mrs. Chichester, Scarboro in re 
 Margaret O'Connell." 
 
 He accordingly sent a telegram to Mrs. Chichester, 
 acquainting her with the pleasant news that she might 
 expect that distinguished lawyer on July 1, to render an 
 account of her stewardship of the Irish agitator's child. 
 
 As he entered a first-class carriage on the Great North- 
 ern Railway at King's Cross station next day, bound for 
 Scarboro, he found himself wondering how the experiment, 
 dictated by Kingsnorth on his death-bed, had progressed. 
 It was a most interesting case. He had handled several, 
 during his career as a solicitor, in which bequests were 
 made to the younger branches of a family that had been 
 torn by dissension during the testator's lifetime, and 
 were now remembered for the purpose of making tardy 
 amends. 
 
 But in those cases the families were all practically 
 of the same caste. It would be merely benefiting them 
 by money or land. Their education had already been 
 taken care of. Once the bequest was arranged all re- 
 sponsibility ended. 
 
 The O'Connell-Kingsnorth arrangement was an en- 
 tirely different condition of things altogether. There 
 were so many provisions each contingent on something 
 in the character of the beneficiary. He did not regard 
 the case with the same equanimity he had handled the 
 
 313
 
 314* PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 others. It opened up so many possibilities of difficulty, 
 and the object of Mr. Kingsnorth's bequest was such an 
 amazing young lady to endeavour to do anything with. 
 He had no preconceived methods to employ in the matter. 
 It was an experiment where his experience was of no use. 
 He had only to wait developments, and, should any real 
 crisis arise, consult with the Chief Executor. 
 
 By the time he reached Scarboro he had arranged 
 everything in his mind. It was to be a short and ex- 
 ceedingly satisfactory interview and he would be able to 
 catch the afternoon express back to London. 
 
 He pictured Miss O'Connell as being marvellously im- 
 proved by her gentle surroundings and eager to continue 
 in them. He was sure he would have a most satisfactory 
 report to make to the Chief Executor. 
 
 As he walked up the beach-walk he was humming gaily 
 an air from " Girofle-Girofla." He was entirely free 
 from care and annoyance. He was thinking what a for- 
 tunate young lady Miss O'Connell was to live amid such 
 delightful surroundings. It would be many a long day 
 before she would ever think of leaving her aunt. 
 
 All of which points to the obvious fact that even gen- 
 tlemen with perfectly-balanced legal brains, occasionally 
 mis-read the result of force of character over circum- 
 stances. 
 
 He was shown into the music-room and was admiring 
 a genuine Greuze when Mrs. Chichester came in. 
 
 She greeted him tragically and motioned him to a seat 
 beside her. 
 
 " Well? " he smiled cheerfully. " And how is our little 
 protegee ? " 
 
 " Sit down," replied Mrs. Chichester, sombrely. 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He sat beside her, waited a moment, then, with some
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 315 
 
 sense of misgiving, asked : " Everything going well, I 
 hope?" 
 
 " Far from it." 'And Mrs. Chichester shook her head 
 sadly. 
 
 " Indeed? " His misgivings deepened. 
 
 " I want you to understand one thing, Mr. Hawkes," 
 and tears welled up into the old lady's eyes : " I have 
 done my best." 
 
 " I am sure of that, Mrs. Chichester," assured the 
 lawyer, growing more and more apprehensive. 
 
 " But she wants to leave us to-day. She has ordered 
 a cab. She is packing now." 
 
 "Dear, dear!" ejaculated the bewildered solicitor. 
 '* Where is she going? " 
 
 " Back to her father." 
 
 " How perfectly ridiculous. Why? " 
 
 " I had occasion to speak to her severely last night. 
 She grew very angry and indignant and now she 
 has ordered a cab." 
 
 " Oh! " and Hawkes laughed easily. " A little child- 
 ish temper. Leave her to me. I have a method with 
 the young. Now tell me what is her character ? 
 How has she behaved ? " 
 
 " At times admirably. At others " Mrs. Chiches- 
 ter raised her hands and her eyes in shocked disapproval. 
 
 " Not quite ? " suggested Mr. Hawkes. 
 
 " Not at all! " concluded Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 " How are her studies ? " 
 
 " Backward." 
 
 " Well, we must not expect too much," said the lawyer 
 reassuringly. " Remember everything is foreign to 
 her." 
 
 " Then you are not disappointed, Mr. Hawkes ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. We can't expect to form a
 
 316 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 character in a month. Does she see many people ? " 
 
 " Very few. We try to keep her entirely amongst 
 ourselves." 
 
 " I wouldn't do that. Let her mix with people. The 
 more the better. The value of contrast. Take her vis- 
 iting with you. Let her talk to others listen to them 
 exchange opinions with them. Nothing is better for 
 sharp-minded, intelligent and ignorant people than to 
 meet others cleverer than themselves. The moment they 
 recognise their own inferiority, they feel the desire for 
 improvement." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester listened indignantly to this, somewhat 
 platitudinous, sermon on how to develop character. And 
 indignation was in her tone when she replied: 
 
 " Surely, she has sufficient example here, sir? " 
 
 Hawkes was on one of his dearest hobbies " Char- 
 acters and Dispositions." He had once read a lecture on 
 the subject. He smiled almost pityingly at Mrs. Chi- 
 chester, as he shook his head and answered her. 
 
 "No, Mrs. Chichester, pardon me but no! She 
 has not sufficient example here. Much as I appreciate a 
 Tiome atmosphere, it is only when the young get axzay 
 from it that they really develop. It is the contact with 
 the world, and its huge and marvellous interests, that 
 strengthens character and solidifies disposition. It is 
 only " he stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester was evidently either not listening, or 
 was entirely unimpressed. She was tapping her left hand 
 with a lorgnette she held in her right, and was waiting 
 for an opportunity to speak. Consequently, Mr. Hawkes 
 stopped politely. 
 
 " If you can persuade her to remain with us, I will do 
 anything you wish in regard to her character and its de- 
 velopment."
 
 "Holy Mother 1 " she cried, "the whole house'll 
 be awake"
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 317 
 
 " Don't be uneasy," he replied easily, " she will stay. 
 May I see her? " 
 
 Mrs. Chichester rose, crossed over to the bell and rang 
 it. She wanted to prepare the solicitor for the possi- 
 bility of a match between her son and her niece. She 
 would do it now and do it tactfully. 
 
 " There is one thing you must know, Mr. Hawkes. 
 My son is in love with her," she said, as though in a burst 
 of confidence. 
 
 Hawkes rose, visibly perturbed. 
 
 "What? Your son?" 
 
 " Yes," she sighed. " Of course she is hardly a suit- 
 able match for Alaric as yet. But by the time she is 
 of age " 
 
 "Of age?" 
 
 " By that time, much may be done." 
 
 Jarvis came in noiselessly and was despatched by Mrs. 
 Chichester to bring her niece to her. 
 
 Hawkes was moving restlessly about the room. He 
 stopped in front of Mrs. Chichester as Jarvis disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " I am afraid, madam, that such a marriage would be 
 out of the question." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " demanded the old lady. 
 
 " As one of the executors of the late Mr. Kingsnorth's 
 will, in my opinion, it would be defeating the object of 
 the dead man's legacy." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester retorted, heatedly: 
 
 " He desires her to be trained. What training is bet- 
 ter than marriage? " 
 
 " Almost any," replied Mr. Hawkes. " Marriage 
 should be the union of two formed characters. Mar- 
 riage between the young is one of my pet objections. It 
 is a condition of life essentially for those who have
 
 318 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 reached maturity in nature and in character. I am pre- 
 paring a paper on it for the Croydon Ethical Society 
 and" 
 
 Whatever else Mr. Hawkes might have said in continua- 
 tion of another of his pet subjects was cut abruptly 
 short by the appearance of Peg. She was still dressed 
 in one of Mrs. Chichester's gifts. She had not had an 
 opportunity to change into her little travelling suit. 
 
 Hawkes looked at her in delighted surprise. She had 
 completely changed. What a metamorphosis from the 
 forlorn little creature of a month ago ! He took her by 
 the hand and pressed it warmly, at the same time saying 
 heartily : 
 
 " Well, well ! What an improvement." 
 
 Peg gazed at him with real pleasure. She was genu- 
 inely glad to see him. She returned the pressure of his 
 hand and welcomed him: 
 
 " I'm glad you've come, Mr. Hawkes." 
 
 " Why, you're a young lady ! " cried the astonished 
 solicitor. 
 
 " Am I ? Ask me aunt about that ! " replied Peg, 
 somewhat bitterly. 
 
 " Mr. Hawkes wishes to talk to you, dear," broke in 
 Mrs. Chichester, and there was a melancholy pathos in 
 her voice and in her eyes. 
 
 If neither Alaric nor Mr. Hawkes could deter her, 
 what would become of them? 
 
 " And I want to talk to Mr. Hawkes, too," replied 
 Peg. " But ye must hurry," she went on. " I've only 
 a few minutes." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester went pathetically to the door, and, 
 telling Mr. Hawkes she would see him again when he had 
 interviewed her niece, she left them.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 319 
 
 " Now, my dear Miss Margaret O'Connell " began 
 the lawyer. 
 
 " Will ye let me have twenty pounds? " suddenly asked 
 Peg. 
 
 " Certainly. Now? " and he took out his pocket-book. 
 
 " This minnit," replied Peg positively. 
 
 " With pleasure," said Mr. Hawkes, as he began to 
 count the bank-notes. 
 
 " And I want ye to get a passage on the first ship to 
 America. This afternoon if there's one," cried Peg, ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 " Oh, come, come " remonstrated the lawyer. 
 
 " The twenty pounds I want to buy something for me 
 father just to remember England by. If ye think 
 me uncle wouldn't like me to have it because I'm lavin', 
 why then me father 5 !! pay ye back. It may take him a 
 long time, but he'll pay it." 
 
 " Now listen " interrupted Mr. Hawkes. 
 
 " Mebbe it'll only be a few dollars a week, but father 
 always pays his debts in time. That's all he ever 
 needs time." 
 
 " What's all this nonsense about going away ? " 
 
 " It isn't nonsense. I'm goin' to me father," answered 
 Peg resolutely. 
 
 " Just when everything is opening out for you ? " 
 asked the lawyer. 
 
 " Everything has closed up on me," said Peg. " I'm 
 goin' back." 
 
 " Why, you've improved out of all knowledge." 
 
 " Don't think that. Me clothes have changed that's 
 all. When I put me thravellin' suit back on agen, ye 
 won't notice any improvement." 
 
 " But think what you're giving up."
 
 320 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I'll have me father. I'm only sorry I gave him up * 
 for a month." 
 
 " The upbringing of a young lady ! " 
 
 " I don't want it. I want me father." 
 
 " The advantages of gentle surroundings." 
 
 " New York is good enough for me with me father." 
 
 " Education ! " 
 
 " I can get that in America with me father." 
 
 " Position ! " 
 
 *' I don't want it. I want me father." 
 
 "Why this rebellion? This sudden craving for your 
 father?" 
 
 " It isn't sudden," she turned on him fiercely. " I've 
 wanted him all the time I've been here. I only promised 
 to stay a month anyway. Well, I've stayed a month. 
 Now, I've disgraced them all here an' I'm goin' back 
 home." 
 
 " Disgraced them ? " 
 
 " Yes, disgraced them. Give me that twenty pounds, 
 please," and she held out her hand for the notes. 
 
 " How have you disgraced them?" demanded the 
 astonished lawyer. 
 
 " Ask me aunt. She knows. Give me the money, 
 please." 
 
 Hawkes hunted through his mind for the cause of this 
 upheaval in the Chichester home. He remembered Mrs. 
 Chichester's statement about Alaric's affection for his 
 young cousin. Could the trouble have arisen from that? 
 It gave him a clue to work on. He grasped it. 
 
 " Answer me one question truthfully, Miss O'Connell." 
 
 " What is it? Hurry. I've a lot to do before I go." 
 
 " Is there an affair of the heart ? " 
 
 " D'ye mean love? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 321 
 
 " Why d'ye ask me that? " 
 
 " Answer me," insisted Mr. Hawkes. 
 
 Peg looked down on the ground mournfully and re- 
 plied : 
 
 " Me heart is in New York with me father." 
 
 " Has anyone made love to you since you have been 
 here?" 
 
 Peg looked up at him sadly and shook her head. 
 A moment later, a mischievous look came into her eyes, 
 and she said, with a roguish laugh: 
 
 " Sure one man wanted to kiss me an' I boxed his ears. 
 And another almost man asked me to marry him." 
 
 " Oh ! " e j aculated the lawyer. 
 
 " Me cousin Alaric." 
 
 " And what did you say ? " questioned Hawkes. 
 
 " I towld him I'd rather have ' Michael.' ' 
 
 He looked at her in open bewilderment and repeated : 
 
 " Michael? " 
 
 " Me dog," explained Peg, and her eyes danced with 
 merriment. 
 
 Hawkes laughed heartily and relievedly. 
 
 " Then you refused him? " 
 
 " Of course I refused him. Me marry him! What 
 for, I'd like to know? " 
 
 " Is he too young? " 
 
 " He's too selfish, an' too silly too, an' too everything 
 I don't like in a man ! " replied Peg. 
 
 " And what do you like in a man ? " 
 
 " Precious little from what I've seen of them in Eng- 
 land." 
 
 As Hawkes looked at her, radiant in her spring-like 
 beauty, her clear, healthy complexion, her dazzling teeth, 
 her red-gold hair, he felt a sudden thrill go through him. 
 His life had been so full, so concentrated on the devel-
 
 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 opment of his career, that he had never permitted the 
 feminine note to obtrude itself on his life. His effort 
 had been rewarded by an unusually large circle of influ- 
 ential clients who yielded him an exceedingly handsome 
 revenue. He had heard whispers of a magistracy. His 
 public future was assured. 
 
 But his private life was arid. The handsome villa 
 in Pelham Crescent had no one to grace the head of the 
 table, save on the occasional visits of his aged mother, or 
 the still rarer ones of a married sister. 
 
 And here was he in the full prime of life. 
 
 It is remarkable how, at times, in one's passage through 
 life, the throb in a voice, the breath of a perfume, the 
 chord of an old song, will arouse some hidden note that 
 had so far lain dormant in one's nature, and which, when 
 awakened into life, has influences that reach through gen- 
 erations. 
 
 It was even so with Hawkes, as he looked at the little 
 Irish girl, born of an aristocratic English mother, looking 
 up at him, hand outstretched, expectant, in all her girlish 
 pudicity. 
 
 Yielding to some uncontrollable impulse, he took the 
 little hand in both of his own. He smiled nervously, 
 and there was a suspicious tremor in his voice: 
 
 " You would like a man of position in life to give you 
 what you most need. Of years to bring you dignity and 
 strength to protect you." 
 
 " I've got him*" stated Peg unexpectedly, withdrawing 
 her hand and eyeing the bank-notes that seemed as far 
 from her as when she first asked for them. 
 
 " You've got him? " ejaculated the man-of-law, aghast. 
 
 " I have. Me father. Let me count that money. The 
 cab will be here an' I won't be ready -
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 323 
 
 Hawkes was not to be denied now. He went on in his 
 softest and most persuasive accents: 
 
 " I know one who would give you all these a man 
 who has reached the years of discretion ! one in whom the 
 follies of youth have merged into the knowledge and 
 reserve of early middle-age. A man of position and of 
 means. A man who can protect you, care for you, ad- 
 mire you and be proud to marry you." 
 
 He felt a real glow of eloquent pleasure, as he paused 
 for her reply to so dignified and ardent an appeal. 
 
 If Peg had been listening, she certainly could not have 
 understood the meaning of his fervid words, since she 
 answered him by asking a question: 
 
 " Are ye goin' to let me have the money ? " 
 
 " Do not speak of money at a moment like this ! " 
 cried the mortified lawyer. 
 
 " But ye said ye would let me have it ! " persisted Peg. 
 
 " Don't 3 7 ou wish to know who the man is, whom I have 
 just described, my dear Miss O'Connell?" 
 
 "No, I don't. Why should I? With me father 
 waitin' in New York for me an' I'm waitin' for 
 that " and again she pointed to his pocket-book. 
 
 " Miss O'Connell may I say Margaret, I was 
 your uncle's adviser his warm personal friend. We 
 spoke freely of you for many weeks before he died. It 
 was his desire to do something for you that would change 
 your whole life and make it full and happy and con- 
 tented. Were your uncle alive, I know of nothing that 
 would give him greater pleasure than for his old friend 
 to take you, your young life into his care. Miss 
 O'Connell 7 am the man ! " 
 
 It was the first time this dignified gentleman had ever 
 invited a lady to share his busy existence, and he felt the
 
 324 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 warm flush of youthful nervousness rush to his cheeks, 
 as it might have done had he made just such a proposal, 
 as a boy. It really seemed to him that he was a boy as 
 he stood before Peg waiting for her reply. 
 
 Again she did not say exactly what he had thought and 
 hoped she would have said. 
 
 " Stop it ! " she cried. " What's the matther with you 
 men this morning? Ye'd think I was some great lady, 
 the way ye're all offerin' me yer hands an' yer names an* 
 yer influences an' yer dignities. Stop it! Give me that 
 money and let me go." 
 
 Hawkes did not despair. He paused. 
 
 " Don't give your answer too hastily. I know it must 
 seem abrupt one might almost say brutal. But 7 am 
 alone in the world you are alone. Neither of us have 
 contracted a regard for anyone else. And in addition 
 to that there would be no occasion to marry until you 
 are twenty-one. There ! " 
 
 And he gazed at her with what he fondly hoped were 
 eyes of sincere adoration. 
 
 " Not until I'm twenty-one ! Look at that now ! " 
 replied Peg it seemed to Mr. Hawkes, somewhat 
 flippantly. 
 
 " Well ! What do you say ? " he asked vibrantly. 
 
 "What do I say, to what?" 
 
 " Will you consent to an engagement ? " 
 
 "With yvu?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss O'Connell, with me." 
 
 Peg suddenly burst into a paroxysm of laughter. 
 
 Hawkes' face clouded and hardened. 
 
 The gloomier he looked, the more hearty were Peg's 
 ebullitions of merriment. 
 
 Finally, when the hysterical outburst had somewhat 
 abated, he asked coldly:
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 325 
 
 "Am I to consider that a refusal?" 
 
 " Ye may. What would / be doin', marryin' the likes 
 of you ? Answer me that ? " 
 
 His passion began to dwindle, his ardour to lessen. 
 
 "That is final?" he queried. 
 
 " Absolutely, completely and entirely final." 
 
 Not only did all hope die in Mr. Hawkes, but seem- 
 ingly all regard as well. 
 
 Ridicule is the certain death-blow to a great and dis- 
 interested affection. 
 
 Peg's laugh still rang in his ears and as he looked at 
 her now, with a new intelligence, unblinded by illusion, 
 he realised what a mistake it would have been for a man 
 of his temperament, leanings and achievements to have 
 linked his life with hers. Even his first feeling of re- 
 sentment passed. He felt now a warm tinge of gratitude. 
 Her refusal bitter though its method had been was 
 a sane and wise decision. It was better for both of them. 
 
 He looked at her gratefully and said: 
 
 " Very well. I think your determination to return to 
 your father, a very wise one. I shall advise the Chief 
 Executor to that effect. And I shall also see that a 
 cabin is reserved for you on the first out-going steamer, 
 and I'll personally take you on board." 
 
 " Thank ye very much, sir. An* may I have the 
 twenty pounds ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Here it is," and he handed her the 
 money. 
 
 " I'm much obliged to ye. An' I'm sorry if I hurt ye 
 by laughin' just now. But I thought ye were jokin', I 
 did." 
 
 " Please never refer to it again." 
 
 " I won't indade I won't. I am sure it was verjg 
 nice of ye to want to marry me '
 
 826 
 
 " I beg you " he interrupted, stopping her with a 
 gesture. 
 
 " Are you goin' back to London to-day? " 
 
 " By the afternoon express.** 
 
 " May I go with you ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Thank ye," cried Peg. " I won't kape ye long. 
 I've not much to take with me. Just what I brought 
 here that's all." 
 
 She hurried across the room to the staircase. When 
 she was halfway up the stairs, Jarvis entered and was 
 immediately followed by Jerry. 
 
 Peg stopped when she saw him come into the room. 
 
 As Jarvis went out, Jerry turned and saw Peg looking 
 down at him. The expression on her face was at once 
 stern and wistful and angry and yearning. 
 
 He went forward eagerly. 
 
 " Peg ! " he said gently, looking up at her. 
 
 " I'm goin' back to me father in half an hour ! " and 
 she went on up the stairs. 
 
 " In half an hour? " he called after her. 
 
 " In thirty minutes ! " she replied and disappeared. 
 
 As Jerry moved slowly away from the staircase, he 
 met Montgomery Hawkes,
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE CHIEF EXECTJTOB APPEARS UPON THE SCENE 
 
 " WHY, how do you do, Sir Gerald? " and Hawkes went 
 across quickly with outstretched hand. 
 
 " Hello, Hawkes," replied Jerry, too preoccupied to 
 return the act of salutation. Instead, he nodded in the 
 direction Peg had gone and questioned: 
 
 " What does she mean going in a few minutes ? " 
 
 " She is returning to America. Our term of guardian- 
 ship is over." 
 
 " How's that? " 
 
 '* She absolutely refuses to stay here any longer. My 
 duties in regard to her, outside of the annual payment 
 provided by her late uncle, end to-day," replied the 
 lawyer. 
 
 " I think not, Hawkes." 
 
 " I beg your pardon? " 
 
 " As the Chief Executor of the late Mr. Kingsnorth's 
 will, 7 must be satisfied that its conditions are complied 
 with in the spirit as well as to the letter," said Jerry; 
 authoritatively. 
 
 " Exactly," was the solicitor's reply. " And ? " 
 
 " Mr. Kingsnorth expressly stipulated that a year was 
 to elapse before any definite conclusion was arrived at. 
 So far only a month has passed." 
 
 " But she insists on returning to her father ! " pro- 
 tested Mr. Hawkes. 
 
 " Have you told her the conditions of the will? " 
 
 " Certainly not. Mr. Kingsnorth distinctly stated she 
 
 was not to know them." 
 
 327
 
 328 PEG 0' MY HEART 
 
 " Except under exceptional circumstances. I consider 
 the circumstances most exceptional." 
 
 " I am afraid I cannot agree with you, Sir Gerald." 
 
 " That is a pity. But it doesn't alter my intention." 
 
 " And may I ask what that intention is ? " 
 
 " To carry out the spirit of Mr. Kingsnorth's be- 
 quest." 
 
 " And what do you consider the spirit ? " 
 
 " I think we will best carry out Mr. Kingsnorth's last 
 wishes by making known the conditions of his bequest to 
 Miss O'Connell and then let her decide whether she wishes 
 to abide by them or not." 
 
 " As the late Mr. Kingsnorth's legal adviser, I must 
 strongly object to such a course," protested the indig- 
 nant lawyer. 
 
 " All the same, Mr. Hawkes, I feel compelled to take it, 
 and I must ask you to act under my instructions." 
 
 " Really," exclaimed Mr. Hawkes ; " I should much 
 prefer to resign from my executorship." 
 
 " Nonsense. In the interests of all parties, we must 
 act together and endeavour to carry out the dead man's 
 wishes." 
 
 The lawyer considered a moment and then in a some- 
 what mollified tone, said: 
 
 " Very well, Sir Gerald. If you think it is necessary, 
 why then by all means, I shall concur in your views." 
 
 " Thank you," replied the Chief Executor. 
 
 Mrs. Chichester came into the room and went straight 
 to Jerry. At the same time, Alaric burst in through the 
 garden and greeted Jerry and Hawkes. 
 
 " I heard you were here " began Mrs. Chichester. 
 
 Jerry interrupted her anxiously : " Mrs. Chichester, 
 I was entirely to blame for last night's unfortunate busi-
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 329 
 
 ness. Don't visit your displeasure on the poor little 
 child. Please don't." 
 
 " I've tried to tell her that I'll overlook it. But she 
 seems determined to go. Can you suggest anything that 
 might make her stay ? She seems to like you and after 
 all as you so generously admit it was to a cer- 
 tain extent your fault." 
 
 Before Jerry could reply, Jarvis came down the stairs 
 with a pained not to say mortified expression on his 
 face. Underneath his left arm he held tightly a shabby 
 little bag and a freshly wrapped up parcel: in his right 
 hand, held far away from his body, was the melancholy 
 and picturesque terrier *' Michael." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester looked at him in horror. 
 
 " Where are you going with those things? " she 
 gasped. 
 
 " To put them in a cab, madam," answered the hu- 
 miliated footman. " Your niece's orders." 
 
 " Put those articles in a travelling-bag use one of my 
 daughter's," ordered the old lady. 
 
 " Your niece objects, madam. She sez she'll take noth- 
 ing away she didn't bring with her." 
 
 The grief-stricken woman turned away as Jarvis 
 passed out. Alaric tried to comfort her. But the strain 
 of the morning had been too great. Mrs. Chichester 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Don't weep, mater. Please don't. It can't be 
 helped. We've all done our best. I know I have!" 
 and Alaric put his mother carefully down on the lounge 
 and sat beside her on the arm. He looked cheerfully at 
 Jerry and smiled as he said: 
 
 " I even offered to marry her if she'd stay. Couldn't 
 do more than that, could I? "
 
 330 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Hawkes listened intently. 
 
 Jerry returned Alaric's smile as he asked: 
 
 " You offered to marry her? " 
 
 Alaric nodded: 
 
 " Poor little wretch. Still I'd have gone through with 
 it." 
 
 " And what did she say ? " queried Jerry. 
 
 " First of all she laughed in my face right in my 
 face the little beggar ! " 
 
 Hawkes frowned gloomily as though at some painful 
 remembrance. 
 
 " And after she had concluded her cachinnatory out- 
 burst, she coolly told me she would rather have * Michael.' 
 She is certainly a remarkable little person and outside 
 of the inconvenience of having her here, we should all be 
 delighted to go on taking care of her. And if dancing is 
 the rock we are going to split on, let us get one up every 
 week for her. Eh, Jerry? You'd come, wouldn't you? " 
 
 Down the stairs came Peg and Ethel. Peg was hold- 
 ing one of Ethel's hands tightly. There seemed to be a 
 thorough understanding between them. Peg was dressed 
 in the same little black suit she wore when she first entered 
 the Chichester family and the same little hat. 
 
 They all looked at her in amazement, amusement, in- 
 terrogation and disgust respectively. 
 
 When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ethel 
 stopped Peg and entreated: 
 
 "Don't go!" 
 
 " I must. There's nothin' in the wurrld 'ud kape me 
 here now. Nothin' ! " 
 
 " I'll drive with you to the station. May I ? " asked 
 Ethel. 
 
 " All right, dear." Peg crossed over to Mrs. Chi- 
 chester :
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 331 
 
 " Good-bye, aunt. I'm sorry I've been such a throuble 
 to ye." 
 
 The poor lady looked at Peg through misty eyes and 
 said reproachfully: 
 
 " Why that dress? Why not one of the dresses I gave 
 you?" 
 
 " This is the way I left me father, an' this is the way 
 I'm goin' back to him ! " replied Peg sturdily. " Good- 
 bye, Cousin Alaric," and she laughed good-naturedly at 
 the odd little man. In spite of everything he did, he had 
 a spice of originality about him that compelled Peg to 
 overlook what might have seemed to others unpardonable 
 priggishness. 
 
 " Good-bye little devil ! " cried Alaric, cheerfully 
 taking the offered hand. " Good luck to ye. And take 
 care of yerself," added Alaric, generously. 
 
 As Peg turned away from him, she came face to face 
 with Jerry or as she kept calling him in her brain by 
 his new name to her Sir Gerald Adair. She 
 dropped her eyes and timidly held out her hand: 
 
 " Good-bye ! " was all she said. 
 
 " You're not going, Peg," said Jerry, quietly and posi- 
 tively. 
 
 " Who's goin' to stop me? " 
 
 "The Chief Executor of the late Mr. Kingsnorth's 
 will." 
 
 " An' who is that? " 
 
 " Mr. Jerry,' Peg ! " 
 
 " You an executor? " 
 
 " I am. Sit down here in our midst and know 
 why you have been here all the past month." 
 
 As he forced Peg gently into a chair, Mrs. Chichester 
 and Alaric turned indignantly on him. Mr. Hawkes 
 moved down to listen, and, if necessary, advise.
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 There was pleasure showing on one face only on 
 Ethel's. 
 
 She alone wanted Peg to understand her position in 
 that house. 
 
 Since the previous night the real womanly note had 
 awakened in Ethel. 
 
 Her heart went out to Peg,
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 PEG LEARNS OF HER UNCLE's LEGACY 
 
 PEG looked up wonderingly from the chair. 
 
 " Me cab's at the door ! " she said, warningly to Jerry. 
 
 " I am sorry to insist, but you must give me a few 
 moments," said the Chief Executor. 
 
 " Must? " cried Peg. 
 
 " It is urgent," replied Jerry quietly. 
 
 " Well, then hurry ; " and Peg sat on the edge of 
 the chair, nervously watching " Jerry." 
 
 " Have you ever wondered at the real reason you were 
 brought here to this house and the extraordinary inter- 
 est taken in you by relations who, until a month ago, had 
 never even bothered about your existence? " 
 
 " I have, indeed," Peg answered. " But whenever I've 
 asked any one, I've always been told it was me uncle's 
 wish." 
 
 "And it was. Indeed, his keenest desire, just before 
 his death, was to atone in some way for his unkindness to 
 your mother." 
 
 " Nothin' could do that," and Peg's lips tightened. 
 
 " That was why he sent for you." 
 
 " Sendin' for me won't bring me poor mother back to 
 life, will it?" 
 
 " At least we must respect his intentions. He desired 
 that you should be given the advantages your mother 
 had when she was a girl." 
 
 " ' Ye've made yer bed ; lie in it ' ! That was the 
 message he sent me mother when she was starvin'. And 
 
 why? Because she loved me father. Well, 7 love me 
 
 333
 
 334 
 
 father an* if he thought his money could separate us he 
 might just as well have let me alone. No one will ever 
 separate us." 
 
 " In justice to yourself," proceeded Jerry, " you must 
 know that he set aside the sum of one thousand pounds 
 a year to be paid to the lady who would undertake your 
 training." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester covered her eyes to hide the tears of 
 mortification that sprang readily into them. 
 
 Alaric looked at Jerry in absolute disgust. 
 
 Hawkes frowned his disapproval. 
 
 Peg sprang up and walked across to her aunt and 
 looked down at her. 
 
 " A thousand pounds a year ! " She turned to Jerry 
 and asked : " Does she get a thousand a year for abusin' 
 me?" 
 
 " For taking care of you," corrected Jerry. 
 
 " Well, what do ye think of that ? " cried Peg, gazing 
 curiously at Mrs. Chichester. " A thousand pounds a 
 year for makin' me miserable, an' the poor dead man 
 thinkin' he was doin' me a favour ! " 
 
 " I tell you this," went on Jerry, " because I don't want 
 you to feel that you have been living on charity. You 
 have not." 
 
 Peg suddenly blazed up: 
 
 " Well, I've been made to feel it," and she glared pas- 
 sionately at her aunt. " Why wasn't I told this before ? 
 If I'd known it I'd never have stayed with ye a minnit ! 
 Who are you, I'd like to know, to bring me up any 
 betther than me father? He's just as much a gentleman 
 as any of yez. He never hurt a poor girl's feelin's just 
 because she was poor. Suppose he hasn't any money? 
 Nor me? What of it? Is it a crime? What has yer 
 money an' yer breedin' done for you? It's dried up the
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 335 
 
 very blood in yer veins, that's what it has ! Yer fright- 
 ened to show one real, human, kindly impulse. Ye don't 
 know what happiness an' freedom mean. An' if that is 
 what money does, I don't want it. Give me what I've 
 been used to poverty. At least I can laugh some- 
 times from me heart, an' get some pleasure out o' life 
 without disgracin' people ! " 
 
 Peg's anger gave place to just as sudden a twinge of 
 regret as she caught sight of Ethel, white-faced, and 
 staring at her compassionately. She went across to Ethel 
 and buried her face on her shoulder and wept as she 
 wailed. 
 
 " Why wasn't I told ! I'd never have stayed ! Why 
 wasn't I told? " 
 
 And Ethel comforted her: 
 
 " Don't cry, dear," she whispered. " Don't. The day 
 you came here we were beggars. You have literally 
 fed and housed us for the last month." 
 
 Peg looked up at Ethel in astonishment. 
 
 She forgot her own sorrow. 
 
 " Ye were beggars ? " 
 
 " Yes. We have nothing but the provision made for 
 your training." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Chichester looked at her daughter reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 Alaric had never seen his sister even interested much 
 less excited before. He turned to his mother, shrugged 
 his shoulders and said: 
 
 " I give it up ! That's all I can say ! I simply give it 
 up!" 
 
 Peg grasped the full meaning of Ethel's words: 
 
 " And will ye have nothin' if I go away ? " 
 
 Peg paused: Ethel did not speak. 
 
 Peg persisted:
 
 336 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " Tell me are ye ralely dependin' on me? Spake 
 to me. Because if ye are, I won't go. I'll stay with ye. 
 I wouldn't see ye beggars for the wurrld. I've been 
 brought up amongst them, an' I know what it is." 
 
 Suddenly she took Ethel by the shoulders and asked 
 in a voice so low that none of the others heard her : 
 
 " Was that the reason ye were goin' last night ? " 
 
 Ethel tried to stop her. 
 
 The truth illumined Ethel's face and Peg saw it and 
 knew. 
 
 " Holy Mary ! " she cried, " and it was I was drivin' 
 ye to it. Ye felt the insult of it every time ye met me 
 as ye said last night. Sure, if I'd known, dear, I'd 
 never have hurt ye, I wouldn't ! Indade, I wouldn't ! " 
 
 She turned to the others: 
 
 " There ! It's all settled. I'll stay with ye, aunt, an' 
 ye can tache me anythin' ye like. Will some one ask 
 Jarvis to bring back me bundles an* * Michael.' I'm goin' 
 to stay 1 " 
 
 Jerry smiled approvingly at her. Then he said : 
 
 " That is just what I would have expected you to do. 
 But, my dear Peg, there's no need for such a sacrifice." 
 
 " Sure, why not ? " cried Peg, excitedly. " Let me 
 sacrifice meself. I feel like it this minnit." 
 
 " There is no occasion." 
 
 He walked over to Mrs. Chichester and addressed her: 
 
 " I came here this morning with some very good news 
 for you. I happen to be one of the directors of Gifford's 
 bank and I am happy to say that it will shortly reopen 
 its doors and ah 1 the depositors' money will be available 
 for them in a little while." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester gave a cry of joy as she looked proudly 
 at her two children: 
 
 " Oh, Alaric ! " she exclaimed : " My darling Ethel ! "
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 337 
 
 " Reopen its doors ? " Alaric commented contemptu- 
 ously. " So it jolly well ought to. What right had it 
 to close 'em? That's what / want to know. What 
 right?" 
 
 " A panic in American securities, in which we were 
 heavily interested, caused the suspension of business," 
 explained Jerry. " The panic is over. The securities 
 are rising every day. We'll soon be on easy street 
 again." 
 
 " See here, mater," remarked Alaric firmly, " every 
 ha'penny of ours goes out of Gifford's bank and into 
 something that has a bottom to it. In future, I'll manage 
 the business of this family." 
 
 The Chichester family, reunited in prosperity, had 
 apparently forgotten the forlorn little girl sitting on the 
 chair, who a moment before had offered to take up the 
 load of making things easier for them by making them 
 harder for herself. 
 
 All their backs were turned to her. 
 
 Jerry looked at her. She caught his eye and smiled, 
 but it had a sad wistfulness behind it. 
 
 " Sure, they don't want me now. I'd better take me 
 cab. Good day to yez." And she started quickly for 
 the door. 
 
 Jerry stopped her. 
 
 " There is just one more condition of Mr. Kingsnorth's 
 will that you must know. Should you go through your 
 course of training satisfactorily to the age of twenty- 
 one, you will inherit the sum of five thousand pounds a 
 year." 
 
 " When I'm twenty-one, I get five thousand pounds 
 a year?" gasped Peg. 
 
 " If you carry out certain conditions." 
 
 "An* what are they?"
 
 338 
 
 " Satisfy the executors that you are worthy of the 
 legacy." 
 
 " Satisfy you? " 
 
 "And Mr. Hawkes." 
 
 Peg looked at the somewhat uncomfortable lawyer, who 
 reddened and endeavoured to appear at ease. 
 
 " Mr. Hawkes ! Oho ! Indade ! " ' She turned back 
 to Jerry: " Did he know about the five thousand? 
 When I'm twenty-one ? " 
 
 " He drew the will at Mr. Kingsnorth's dictation," re- 
 plied Jerry. 
 
 " Was that why ye wanted me to be engaged to ye until 
 I was twenty-one? " she asked the unhappy lawyer. 
 
 Hawkes tried to laugh it off. 
 
 " Come, come, Miss O'Connell," he said, " what non- 
 sense ! " 
 
 " Did you propose to Miss Margaret ? " queried Jerry. 
 
 " Well " hesitated the embarrassed lawyer " in a 
 measure yes." 
 
 " That's what it was," cried Peg, with a laugh. " It 
 was very measured. No wondher the men were crazy 
 to kape me here and to marry me." 
 
 She caught sight of Alaric and smiled at him. He 
 creased his face into a sickly imitation of a smile and 
 murmured : 
 
 " Well, of course, I mean to say ! " with which clear 
 and well-defined expression of opinion, he stopped. 
 
 " I could have forgiven you, Alaric," said Peg, " but 
 Mr. Hawkes, I'm ashamed of ye." 
 
 " It was surely a little irregular, Hawkes," suggested 
 Jerry. 
 
 " I hardly agree with you, Sir Gerald. There can be 
 nothing irregular in a simple statement of affection." 
 
 " Affection is it ? " cried Peg.
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 339 
 
 " Certainly. We are both alone in the world. Miss 
 O'Connell seemed to be unhappy: the late Mr. Kings- 
 north desired that she should be trained it seemed to me 
 to be an admirable solution of the whole difficulty." 
 
 Peg laughed openly and turning to Jerry, said: 
 
 " He calls himself a * solution.' Misther Hawkes 
 go on with ye I am ashamed of ye." 
 
 " Well, there is no harm done," replied Mr. Hawkes, 
 endeavouring to regain his lost dignity. 
 
 "No!" retorted Peg. "It didn't go through, did 
 it?" 
 
 Hawkes smiled at that, and taking Peg's hand, pro- 
 tested : 
 
 " However always your friend and well-wisher." 
 
 " But nivver me husband ! " insisted Peg. 
 
 " Good-bye." 
 
 " Where are ye goin' without me ? " 
 
 " You surely are not returning to America now? " said 
 Hawkes, in surprise. 
 
 " Why, of course, I'm goin' to me father now. Where 
 else would I go? " 
 
 Hawkes hastened to explain: 
 
 " If you return to America to your father, you will vio- 
 late one of the most important clauses in the will." 
 
 " If I go back to me father? " 
 
 " Or if he visits you until you are twenty-one," 
 added Jerry. 
 
 " Is that so? " And the blood rushed up to Peg's 
 temples. " Well, then, that settles it. No man is goin' 
 to dictate to me about me father. No dead man nor 
 no livin' one nayther." 
 
 " It will make you a rich young lady in three years, 
 remember. You will be secure from any possibility of 
 poverty."
 
 340 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I don't care. I wouldn't stay over here for three 
 years with " she caught Mrs. Chichester's eyes fas- 
 tened on her and she checked herself. 
 
 " I wouldn't stay away from me father for three years 
 for all the money in the wurrld," she concluded, with 
 marked finality. 
 
 " Very well," agreed Jerry. Then he spoke to the 
 others : " Now, may I have a few moments alone with 
 my ward? " 
 
 The family expressed surprise. 
 
 Hawkes suggested a feeling of strong displeasure. 
 
 " I shall wait to escort you down to the boat, Miss 
 O'Connell." Bowing to every one, the man of law left 
 the room. 
 
 Peg stared at Jerry incredulously. 
 
 " Ward? Is that me? " 
 
 " Yes, Peg. I am your legal guardian appointed 
 by Mr. Kingsnorth ! " 
 
 " You're the director of a bank, the executor of an 
 estate, an' now ye're me guardian. What do ye do with 
 yer spare time? " 
 
 Jerry smiled and appealed to the others : 
 
 " Just a few seconds alone." 
 
 Mrs. Chichester went to Peg and said coldly : 
 
 " Good-bye, Margaret. It is unlikely we'll meet again. 
 I hope you have a safe and pleasant journey." 
 
 " Thank ye, Aunt Monica." Poor Peg longed for at 
 least one little sign of affection from her aunt. She 
 leaned forward to kiss her. The old lady either did not 
 see the advance or did not reciprocate what it implied. 
 She went on upstairs out of sight. 
 
 Mingled with her feeling of relief that she would never 
 again be slighted and belittled by Mrs. Chichester, she
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 341 
 
 was hurt to the heart by the attitude of cold indifference 
 with which her aunt treated her. 
 
 She was indeed overjoyed to think now it was the last 
 she would ever see of the old lady. 
 
 Alaric held out his hand frankly: 
 
 "Jolly decent of ye to offer to stay here just to 
 keep us goin' awfully decent. You are certainly a 
 little wonder. I'll miss you terribly really I will." 
 
 Peg whispered: 
 
 " Did ye know about that five thousand pounds when 
 I'm twenty-one ? " 
 
 " 'Course I did. That was why I proposed. To save 
 the roof." Alaric was nothing if not honest. 
 
 " Ye'd have sacrificed yeself by marryin' me? " quizzed 
 Peg. 
 
 " Like a shot." 
 
 " There's somethin' of the hero about you, Ala- 
 ric ! " 
 
 " Oh, I mustn't boast," he replied modestly. " It's all 
 in the family." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad ye didn't have to do it," Peg remarked 
 positively. 
 
 " So am I. Jolly good of you to say ' No.' All the 
 luck in the world to you. Drop me a line or a picture- 
 card from New York. Look you up on my way to 
 Canada if I ever really go. 'Bye!" The young 
 man walked over to the door calling over his shoulder to 
 Jerry : " See ye lurchin' about somewhere, old dear ! " 
 and he too went out of Peg's life. 
 
 She looked at Ethel and half entreated, half com- 
 manded Jerry: 
 
 " Plaze look out of the window for a minnit. I want to 
 spake to me cousin."
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Jerry sauntered over to the window and stood looking 
 at the gathering storm. 
 
 "Is that all over?" whispered Peg. 
 
 " Yes," replied Ethel, in a low tone. 
 
 " Ye'll never see him again ? " 
 
 " Never. I'll write him that. What must you think 
 Df me?" 
 
 " I thought of you all last night," said Peg eagerly. 
 " Ye seem like some one who's been lookin' for happiness 
 in the dark with yer eyes shut. Open them wide, dear, 
 and look at the beautiful things in the daylight and then 
 you'll be happy." 
 
 Ethel shook her head sadly : 
 
 " I feel to-day that I'll never know happiness again." 
 
 " Sure, I've felt like that many a time since I've been 
 here. Ye know three meals a day, a soft bed to slape in 
 an' everythin' ye want besides, makes ye mighty discon- 
 tented. If ye'd go down among the poor once in a while 
 an' see what they have to live on, an' thry and help them, 
 ye might find comfort and peace in doin' it." 
 
 Ethel put both of her hands affectionately on Peg's 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Last night you saved me from myself and then 
 you shielded me from my family." 
 
 " Faith I'd do that for any poor girl, much less me own 
 cousin." 
 
 " Don't think too hardly of me, Margaret. Please ! " 
 she entreated. 
 
 " I don't, dear. It wasn't yer fault. It was yer moth- 
 er's." 
 
 "My mother's?" 
 
 " That's what I said. It's all in the way we're 
 brought up what we become aftherwards. Yer mother 
 raised ye in a hot house instead of thrustin' ye out into
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 343 
 
 the cold winds of the wurrld when ye were young and 
 gettin' ye used them. She taught ye to like soft 
 silks and shining satins an' to look down on the poor, an' 
 the shabby. That's no way to bring up anybody. An- 
 other thing ye learnt from her to be sacret about things 
 that are near yer heart instead of encouragin' ye to be 
 outspoken an' honest. Of course I don't think badly 
 of ye. Why should I ? I had the advantage of ye all the 
 time. It isn't ivery girl has the bringin' up such as I 
 got from me father. So let yer mind be aisy, dear. I 
 think only good of ye. God bless ye 1 " She took Ethel 
 gently in her arms and kissed her. 
 
 " I'll drive down with you," said Ethel, brokenly, and 
 hurried out. 
 
 Peg stood looking after her for a moment, then she 
 turned and looked at Jerry, who was still looking out of 
 the window. 
 
 " She's gone," said Peg, quietly. 
 
 Jerry walked down to her. 
 
 " Are you still determined to go? " he asked. 
 
 I am." 
 
 " And you'll leave here without a regret? " 
 
 " I didn't say that sure." 
 
 " We've been good friends, haven't we ? " 
 
 "I thought we were," she answered gently. "But 
 friendship must be honest. Why didn't ye tell me ye 
 were a gentleman? Sure, how was I to know? * Jerry ' 
 might mean anybody. Why didn't ye tell me ye had a 
 title?" 
 
 " I did nothing to get it. Just inherited it," he said 
 simply. Then he added: "I'd drop it altogether if I 
 could." 
 
 "Would ye?" she asked curiously. 
 
 "I would. And as for being a gentleman, why one
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 of the finest I ever met drove a cab in Piccadilly. He was 
 a gentle man that is one who never willingly hurts 
 another. Strange in a cabman, eh? " 
 
 " Why did ye let me treat ye all the time as an 
 equal? " 
 
 " Because you are superior in many things. Gen- 
 erosity, for instance." 
 
 " Oh, don't thry the comther on me. I know ye now. 
 Nothin' seems the same." 
 
 " Nothing? " 
 
 "Nothin'!'* 
 
 " Are we never to play like children again ? " he 
 pleaded. 
 
 " No," she said firmly. " Ye'll have to come out to 
 New York to do it. An' then I mightn't." 
 
 "Will nothing make you stay?" 
 
 " Nothing. I'm just achin' for me home." 
 
 " Such as t his could never be home to you ? " 
 
 '* This? Never," she replied positively. 
 
 " I'm sorry. Will you ever think of me ? " 
 
 He waited. She averted her eyes and said nothing. 
 
 " Will you write to me? " he urged. 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " I'd like to hear of you and from you. Will you ? " 
 
 "Just to laugh at me spellin'? " 
 
 " Peg ! " He drew near to her. 
 
 " Sir Gerald 1 " she corrected him and drew a little 
 away. 
 
 " Peg, my dear ! " He took both of her hands in his 
 and bent over her. 
 
 Just for a moment was Peg tempted to yield to the 
 embrace. 
 
 Had she done so, the two lives would have changed in
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 345 
 
 that moment. But the old rebellious spirit came upper- 
 most, and she looked at him defiantly and cried : 
 
 " Are you goin' to propose to me, too ? " 
 
 That was the one mistake that separated those two 
 hearts. Sir Gerald drew back from her hurt. 
 
 She was right they were not equals. 
 
 She could not understand him, since he could never 
 quite say all he felt, and she could never divine what was 
 left unsaid. 
 
 She was indeed right. 
 
 Such as this could never be a home for her. 
 
 Jarvis came quietly in: 
 
 " Mr. Hawkes says, Miss, if you are going to catch the 
 train " 
 
 " I'll catch it," said Peg impatiently ; and Jarvis went 
 out. 
 
 Peg looked at Jerry's back turned eloquently toward 
 her, as though in rebuke. 
 
 " Why in the wurrld did I say that to him? " she mut- 
 tered. " It's me Irish tongue." She went to the door, 
 and opened it noisily, rattling the handle loudly hoping 
 he would look around. 
 
 But he never moved. 
 
 She accepted the attitude as one of dismissal. 
 
 Under her breath she murmured: 
 
 " Good-bye, Misther Jerry an' God bless ye an' 
 thank ye for bein' so nice to me." And she passed out. 
 
 In the hall Peg found Ethel and Hawkes waiting for 
 her. 
 
 They put her between them in the cab and with 
 " Michael " in her arms, she drove through the gates of 
 Regal Villa never to return. 
 
 The gathering storm broke as she reached the station.
 
 346 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 In storm Jerry came into her life, in storm she was 
 leaving his. 
 
 The threads of what might have been a fitting addition 
 to the " Love Stories of the World " were broken. 
 
 flould the break ever be healed?
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MANY' and conflicting were Peg's feelings as she went 
 aboard the ship that was to carry her from England for- 
 ever. 
 
 In that short month she had experienced more con- 
 trasted feelings than in all the other years she had lived. 
 
 It seemed as if she had left her girlhood, with all its 
 keen hardships and sweet memories, behind her. 
 
 When the vessel swung around the dock in Liverpool 
 and faced toward America Peg felt that not only was she 
 going back to the New World, but she was about to 
 begin a new existence. Nothing would ever be quite the 
 same again. She had gone through the leavening process 
 of emotional life and had come out of it with her courage 
 still intact, her honesty unimpaired, but somehow with 
 her faith abruptly shaken. She had believed and trusted, 
 and she had been she thought entirely mistaken, and 
 it hurt her deeply. 
 
 Exactly why Peg should have arrived at such a con- 
 dition bordering as it was on cynicism was in one 
 sense inexplicable, yet from another point of view easily 
 understood. That Jerry had not told her all about him- 
 self when they first met, as she did about herself to him, 
 did not necessarily imply deceit on his part. Had she 
 asked any member or servant in the Chichester family 
 who and what " Jerry " was they would readily have 
 told her. But that was contrary to Peg's nature. If 
 she liked anyone, she never asked questions about them. 
 It suggested a doubt, and doubt to Peg meant disloyalty 
 
 347
 
 348 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 in friendship and affection. Everyone had referred to 
 this young gentleman as " Jerry." He even introduced 
 himself by that unromantic and undignified name. No 
 one seemed to treat him with any particular deference, 
 nor did anything in his manner seem to demand it. She 
 had imagined that anyone with a title should not only 
 be proud of it, but would naturally hasten to let every- 
 one they met become immediately aware whom they were 
 addressing. 
 
 She vividly remembered her father pointing out to her 
 a certain north-of-Ireland barrister who on the 
 strength of securing more convictions under the " Crimes 
 Act " than any other j urist in the whole of Ireland 
 was rewarded with the Royal and Governmental approval 
 by having conferred on him the distinction and dignity 
 of knighthood. It was the crowning-point of his career. 
 It has steadily run through his life since as a thin flame 
 of scarlet. He lives and breathes " knighthood." He 
 thinks and speaks it. He demands recognition from his 
 equals, even as he compels it from his inferiors. Her 
 father told Peg that all the servants were drilled care- 
 fully to call him " Sir Edward." 
 
 His relations, unaccustomed through their drab lives 
 to the usages of the great, found extreme difficulty in 
 acquiring the habit of using the new appellation in the 
 place of the nick-name of his youth " Ted." It was 
 only when it was made a condition of being permitted an 
 audience with the gifted and honoured lawyer, that they 
 allowed their lips to meekly form the servile " Sir ! " 
 when addressing their distinguished relation. 
 
 When he visited Dublin Castle to consult with his 
 Chiefs, and any of his old-time associates hailed him 
 familiarly as " Ted ! " a grieved look would cross his 
 semi-Scotch features, and he would hasten to correct in
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 349 
 
 his broad, coarse brogue: " Sir Edward, me friend! Be 
 the Grace of Her Majesty and the British Government 
 Sir Edward if ye plaze ! " 
 
 There was one who took pride in the use of his title. 
 
 He desired and exacted the full tribute due the dignity 
 it carried. Then why did not " Jerry " do the same ? 
 
 She did not appreciate that to him the prefix having 
 been handed down from generations, was as natural to 
 him as it was unnatural to the aforementioned criminal 
 lawyer. The one was born with it, consequently it be- 
 came second nature to him. The other had it conferred 
 on him for his zeal in procuring convictions of his own 
 countrymen, and never having in his most enthusiastic 
 dreams believed such a condition would come to pass 
 now that it was an accomplished fact, he naturally 
 wanted all to know and respect it. 
 
 They were two distinct breeds of men. 
 
 Peg had occasionally met the type of the honoured law- 
 yer. They sprang up as mushrooms over night during 
 the pressure of the " Crimes Act," and were liberally re- 
 warded by the government some were even transferred 
 to the English Bar. And they carried their blatant in- 
 sistence even across the channel. 
 
 But the man of breeding who exacted nothing; of cul- 
 ture, who pretended not to have acquired it ; of the real 
 power and dignity of life, yet was simplicity itself in his 
 manner to others that kind of man was new to Peg. 
 
 She burned with shame as she thought of her leave- 
 taking. What must Sir Gerald think of her? 
 
 Even to the end she was just the little " Irish nothin'." 
 as she had justly, it seemed to her now, described herself 
 to him. She had hurt and offended him. In that one 
 rude, foolish, unnecessary question, " Are you goin' to 
 propose too? " she had outraged common courtesy, and
 
 350 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 made it impossible for him to say even a friendly " Good- 
 bye " to her. She did not realise the full measure of the 
 insult until afterwards. She had practically insinuated 
 that he was following the somewhat sordid example of 
 cousin Alaric and Montgomery Hawkes in proposing for 
 her hand because, in a few years, she would benefit by her 
 uncle's will. Such a suggestion was not only unworthy 
 of her it was an unforgivable thing to say to him. 
 He had always treated her with the greatest courtesy 
 and consideration, and because he did not flaunt his gen- 
 tility before her, she had taken unwarranted umbrage 
 and had said something that raised an impassable barrier 
 between them. 
 
 All the way across the Atlantic poor lonely Peg had 
 many opportunities of reviewing that brief glimpse of 
 English life. She felt now how wrong her attitude had 
 been to the whole of the Chichester family. She had 
 judged them at first sight. She had resolved that they 
 were just selfish, inconsiderate, characterless people. On 
 reflection, she determined that they were not. And even 
 if they had been, why should Peg have been their ac- 
 cuser? And after all, is there not an element of selfish- 
 ness in every nature? Was Peg herself entirely im- 
 mune? 
 
 And in a family with traditions to look back on and 
 live up to, have they not a greater right to being self- 
 centred than the plebeian with nothing to look back on 
 or forward to? And, all things considered, is not self- 
 ishness a thoroughly human and entirely natural feeling? 
 What right had she to condemn people wholesale for 
 feeling and practising it? 
 
 These were the sum and substance of Peg's self-analy- 
 sis during the first days of her voyage home. 
 
 Then the thought came to her, were the Chichesters
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 351 
 
 really selfish? Now that she had been told the situation, 
 she knew that her aunt had undertaken her training to 
 protect Ethel and Alaric from distress and humiliation. 
 She realised how distasteful it must have been to a lady 
 of Mrs. Chichester's nature and position to have occa- 
 sion to receive into her house, amongst her own family, 
 such a girl as Peg. And she had not made it easy for 
 her aunt. She had regarded the family as being allied 
 against her. 
 
 Was it not largely her own fault if they Jiad been? 
 Peg's sense of justice was asserting itself. 
 
 The thought of Alaric flashed through her mind, and 
 with it came a little pang of regret for the many occasions 
 she had made fun of him and in his mother's presence. 
 His proposal to her had its pathetic as well as its hu- 
 morous side. To save his family he would have delib- 
 erately thrown away his own chance of happiness by mar- 
 rying her. Yet he would have done it willingly and 
 cheerfully and, from what she had seen of the little man, 
 he would have lived up to his obligations honourably 
 and without a murmur. 
 
 Alaric's sense of relief at her refusal of him suddenly 
 passed before her, and she smiled broadly as she saw, in 
 a mental picture, his eager and radiant little face as he 
 thanked her profusely for being so generous as to refuse 
 him. Looking back, Alaric was by no means as con- 
 temptible as he had appeared at first sight. He had been 
 coddled too much. He needed the spur of adversity and 
 the light of battle with his fellowmen. Experience and 
 worldly wisdom could make him a useful and worthy 
 citizen, since fundamentally there was nothing seriously 
 wrong with him. 
 
 Peg's outlook on life was distinctly becoming clarified. 
 
 Lastly, she thought of Ethel. Poor, unhappy, lonely
 
 35 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 Ethel! In her little narrow ignorance, Peg had taken 
 an intense dislike to her cousin from the beginning. Once 
 or twice she had made friendly overtures to Ethel, and 
 had always been repulsed. She placed Ethel in the cate- 
 gory of selfish English-snobdom that she had heard and 
 read about and now, apparently, met face to face. Then 
 came the vivid experience at night when Ethel laid bare 
 her soul pitilessly and torrentially for Peg to see. With 
 it came the realisation of the heart-ache and misery 
 of this outwardly contented and entirely unemotional 
 young lady. Beneath the veneer of repression and con- 
 vention Peg saw the fires of passion blazing in Ethel, 
 and the cry of revolt and hatred against her environment. 
 But for Peg she would have thrown away her life on a 
 creature such as Brent because there was no one near her 
 to understand and to pity and to succour. 
 
 Peg shuddered as she thought of the rash act Ethel 
 had been saved from blackening her life in the com- 
 pany of that satyr. 
 
 How many thousands of girls were there in England to- 
 day, well-educated, skilled in the masonry of society to 
 all outward seeming perfectly contented, awaiting their 
 final summons to the marriage-market the culmination 
 of their brief, inglorious careers. Yet if one could pene- 
 trate beneath the apparent calm, one might find boiling 
 in iheir blood and beating in their brains the same revolt 
 that had driven Ethel to the verge of the Dead Sea of 
 lost hopes and vain ambitions the vortex of scandal. 
 
 When from time to time a girl of breeding and of fam- 
 ily elopes with an under-servant or a chauffeur, the un- 
 fortunate incident is hushed up and the parents attribute 
 the unhappy occurrence primarily to some mental or 
 moral twist in the young lady. They should seek the fault 
 in their own hearts and lives. It is the home life of Eng-
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 353 
 
 land that is responsible for a large portion of the misery 
 that drives the victims to open revolt. The children are 
 not taught from the time they can first speak to be per- 
 fectly frank and honest about everything they think and 
 feel. They are too often left in the care of servants at 
 an age when parental influence has the greatest signifi- 
 cance. On the rare occasions when they are permitted to 
 enter the august presence of their parents, they are 
 often treated with a combination of tolerant affection 
 and imperial severity. Small wonder the little ones in 
 their development to adolescence evade giving confidences 
 that have neither been asked for nor encouraged. They 
 have to learn the great secrets of life and of nature from 
 either bitter experience or from the lips of strangers. 
 Children and parents grow up apart. It often takes a 
 convulsion of nature or a devastating scandal to awaken 
 the latter to the full realisation of their responsibility. 
 
 During their talk the morning following that illumi- 
 nating incident, Peg learned more of Ethel's real nature 
 than she had done in all of the four weeks she had seen 
 and listened to her daily. 
 
 She had opened her heart to Peg, and the two girls 
 had mingled confidences. If they had only begun that 
 way, what a different month it might have been for both ! 
 Peg resolved to watch Ethel's career from afar: to write 
 to her constantly : and to keep fresh and green the mem- 
 ory of their mutual regard. 
 
 At times there would flash through Peg's mind what 
 would her future in America be with her father? 
 Would he be disappointed? He so much wanted her to 
 be provided for that the outcome of her visit abroad 
 would be, of a certainty, in the nature of a severe shock 
 to him. What would be the outcome? How would he 
 receive her? And what had all the days to come in store
 
 354 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 for her with memory searching back to the days that 
 were? She had a longing now for education: to know 
 the essential things that made daily intercourse possible 
 between people of culture. She had been accustomed to 
 look on it as affectation. Now she realised that it was 
 as natural to those who had acquired the masonry of 
 gentle people as her soft brogue and odd, blunt, out- 
 spoken ways were to her. 
 
 From now on she would never more be satisfied with 
 life as it was of old. She had passed through a period 
 of awakening; a searchlight had been turned on her own 
 shortcomings and lack of advantages. She had not been 
 conscious of them before, since she had been law unto 
 herself. But now a new note beat in on her. It was 
 as though she had been colour-blind and suddenly had 
 the power of colour-differentiation vouchsafed her and 
 looked out on a world that dazzled by its new-found bril- 
 liancy. It was even as though she had been tone-deaf 
 and, by a miracle, had the gift of sweet sounds given 
 her, and found herself bathed in a flow of sweet music. 
 She was bewildered. Her view of life had changed. She 
 would have to rearrange her outlook by her experience if 
 she hoped to find happiness. 
 
 And always as she brooded and argued with and criti- 
 cised herself and found things to admire in what had 
 hitherto been wrong to her always the face of Jerry 
 rose before her and the sound of his voice came pleasantly 
 to her ears and the memory of his regard touched gently 
 at her heart, and the thought of her final mistake burnt 
 and throbbed in her brain. 
 
 And with each pulsation of the giant engines she was 
 carried farther and farther away from the scene of her 
 first romance. One night she made her " farewell " to
 
 PEG IN ENGLAND 355 
 
 England and all it contained that had played a part in 
 her life. 
 
 It was the night before she reached New York. 
 
 As she came nearer and nearer to America, the thought 
 of one who was waiting for her who had never shown 
 anger or resentment toward her whatever she did ; who 
 had never shown liking for any but her ; who had always 
 given her the love of his heart and the fruit of his brain ; 
 who had sheltered and taught and loved and suffered for 
 her, rose insistently before her and obliterated all other 
 impressions and all other memories. 
 
 As she spoke her " farewell " to England, Peg turned 
 her little body toward the quickly nearing shores of 
 America and thanked God that waiting to greet her 
 would be her father, and entreated Him that he would be 
 spared to her, and that when either should die that she 
 might be called first; that life without him would be 
 barren and terrible! and above all, she pleaded that He 
 would keep her h'ttle heart loyal always to her childhood- 
 hero, and that no other should ever supplant her father 
 in her love and remembrance. 
 
 When she awoke next day amid the bustle of the last 
 morning on board, it seemed that her prayer had been 
 answered. 
 
 Her farewell to England was indeed final. 
 
 She had only one thought uppermost she was going 
 to see her father.
 
 BOOK V 
 
 f
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AFTER MANY DAYS 
 
 FRANK O'CONNEI/L stood on the quay that morning 
 in July, and watched the great ship slowly swing in 
 through the heads, and his heart beat fast as he waited 
 impatiently while they moored her. 
 
 His little one had come back to him. 
 
 His fears were at rest. 
 
 She was on board that floating mass of steel and iron, 
 and the giant queen of the water had gallantly sur- 
 vived storm and wave and was nestling alongside the 
 pier. 
 
 Would she be the same Peg? That was the thought 
 beating through him as he strained his eyes to see the 
 familiar and beloved little figure. Was she coming back 
 to him transformed by the magic wand of association 
 a great lady ? He could scarcely believe that she 
 would, yet he had a half-defined fear in his soul that she 
 might not be the same. 
 
 One thing he made up his mind to never again 
 would he think of separation. Never again would he 
 argue her into agreeing to go away from him. He had 
 learned his lesson and by bitter experience. Never again 
 until she wished it. 
 
 Amid the throngs swarming down the gangways he 
 suddenly saw his daughter, and he gave a little gasp of 
 surprised pleasure, and a mist swam before his eyes and 
 a great lump came into his throat and his heart beat as 
 a trip-hammer. It was the same Peg that had gone away 
 a month ago. The same little black suit and the hat 
 
 359
 
 360 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 with the berries and the same bag and " Michael " in her 
 arms. 
 
 Their meeting was extraordinary. It was quite unlike 
 what either had supposed it would be. There was a note 
 of strangeness in each. There was added to the ful- 
 ness of the heart an aloofness a feeling that, in the 
 passage of time, life had not left either quite the same. 
 
 How often that happens to two people who have shared 
 the intimacy of years and the affection of a lifetime ! 
 After a separation of even a little while, the break in 
 their joint-lives, the influence of strangers, and the quick 
 rush of circumstance during their parting, creates a 
 feeling neither had ever known. The interregnum had 
 created barriers that had to be broken down before the 
 old relationship could be resumed. 
 
 O'Connell and Peg made the journey home almost in 
 silence. They sat hand in hand in the conveyance whilst 
 Peg's eyes looked at the tall buildings as they flashed 
 past her, and saw the daring advertisements on the board- 
 ings and listened to the ceaseless roar of the traffic. 
 
 All was just as she had left it. 
 
 Only Peg had changed. 
 
 New York seemed a Babel after the quiet of that little 
 north of England home. She shivered as thoughts 
 surged in a jumbled mass through her brain. 
 
 They reached O'Connell's apartment. 
 It had been made brilliant for Peg's return. 
 
 There were additions to the meagre furnishings Peg 
 had left behind. Fresh pictures were on the walls. There 
 were flowers everywhere. 
 
 O'Connell watched Peg anxiously as she looked around. 
 How would she feel toward her home when she contrasted 
 it with what she had just left? 
 
 His heart bounded as he saw Peg's face brighten as
 
 PEG RETURNS TO HER FATHER 361 
 
 she ran from one object to another and commented on 
 them. 
 
 " It's the grand furniture we have now, father ! " 
 
 " Do ye like it, Peg? " 
 
 " That I do. And it's the beautiful picture of Edward 
 Fitzgerald ye have on the wall there ! " 
 
 " Ye mind how I used to rade ye his life ? " 
 
 " I do indade. It's many's the tear I've shed over 
 him and Robert Emmet." 
 
 " Then ye've not forgotten ? " 
 
 "Forgotten what?" 
 
 " All ye learned as a child and we talked of since ye 
 grew to a girl? " 
 
 " I have not. Did ye think I would ? " 
 
 " No, Peg, I didn't. Still, I was wondherin' " 
 
 " What would I be doin' forgettin' the things ye taught 
 me?" 
 
 He looked at her and a whimsical note came in his 
 voice and the old look twinkled in his eyes. 
 
 " It's English I thought ye'd be by now. Ye've lived 
 so long among the Saxons." 
 
 "English! is it?" And her tone rang with disgust 
 and her look was one of disdain. " English ye thought 
 I'd be ! Sure, ye ought to know me betther than that ! " 
 
 " I do, Peg. I was just tasin' ye." 
 
 " An' what have ye been doin' all these long days 
 without me ? " 
 
 He raised the littered sheets of his manuscript and 
 showed them to her. 
 
 " This." 
 
 She looked over her shoulder and read: 
 
 " From * Buck-shot * to ' Agricultural Organisation. 9 
 " The History of a Generation of English Misrule, by 
 Frank Owen O'Connell."
 
 362 PEG O' MY' HEART 
 
 She looked up proudly at her father. 
 
 " It looks wondherf ul, father." 
 
 " I'll rade it to you in the long evenin's now we're to- 
 gether again." 
 
 " Do, father." 
 
 "And we won't separate any more, Peg, will we? " 
 
 " We wouldn't have this time but for you, father." 
 
 " Is it sorry ye are that ye went ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I'm sorry o' coorse, and glad, too, 
 in some ways." 
 
 " What made yez come back so sudden-like ? " 
 
 w I only promised to stay a month." 
 
 ** Didn't they want ye any longer? " 
 
 " In one way they did, an' in another they didn't. 
 It's a long history that's what it is. Let us sit down 
 here as we used in the early days and I'll tell ye the whole 
 o' the happenin's since I left ye." 
 
 She made him comfortable as had been her wont be- 
 fore, and, sitting on the little low stool at his feet, she 
 told him the story of her month abroad and the impelling 
 motive of her return. 
 
 She softened some things and omitted others Ethel 
 entirely. That episode should be locked forever in Peg'? 
 heart. 
 
 Jerry she touched on lightly. 
 
 O'Connell asked her many questions about him, re- 
 membering the tone of her later letters. And all the 
 time he never took his eyes from her face, and he marked 
 how it shone with a warm glow of pleasure when Jerry's 
 name occurred, and how the gleam died away and settled 
 into one of sadness when she spoke of her discovery that 
 he had a title. 
 
 " They're queer people, the English, Peg." 
 
 "They are, father."
 
 PEG RETURNS TO HER FATHER 363 
 
 ' They're cool an' cunnin' an' crafty, me darlin'." 
 
 " Some o' them are fine an' honourable an' clever too, 
 father." 
 
 " Was this fellow that called himself * Jerry ' an' all 
 the while was a Lord that same?" 
 
 " Ivery bit of it, father." 
 
 "And he trated ye dacent-like? " 
 
 " Sure, I might have been a Lady, the way he behaved 
 to me." 
 
 " Did he iver smile at ye? " 
 
 " Many's the time." 
 
 " Do ye remember the proverb I taught ye as a child? " 
 
 " Which wun, father? I know a hundred, so I do." 
 
 " ' Beware the head of a bull, the heels of a horse, of 
 the smile of an Englishman ! ' " 
 
 He paused and looked at her keenly. 
 
 " Do you remember that, Peg? " 
 
 "I do. There are Englishmen arid Englishmen. 
 There are plenty o' bad Irish, and by the same token 
 there are some good Englishmen. An' he is wun o' 
 them." 
 
 " Why didn't he tell ye he was a Lord? " 
 
 " He didn't think it necessary. Over there they let 
 ye gather from their manner what they are. They 
 don't think it necessary to be tellin' everyone." 
 
 " It's the strange ones they are, Peg, to be rulin' us." 
 
 " Some day, father, they'll go over to Ireland and learn 
 what we're really like, and then they'll change everything. 
 Jerry said that." 
 
 " They've begun to already. Sure, there's a man 
 named Plunkett has done more in a few years than all 
 the governments have accomplished in all the years they've 
 been blunderin' along tryin' to thrample on us. An' 
 sure, Plunkett has a title, too ! "
 
 364 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " I know, father. Jerry knows him and often spoke 
 of him." 
 
 "Did he, now?" 
 
 " He did. He said that so long as the English gov- 
 ernment 'ud listen to kindly, honourable men like Plunkett, 
 there was hope of makin' Ireland a happy, contented peo- 
 ple, an' Jerry said 
 
 " It seems Misther Jerry must have said a good deal 
 to yez." 
 
 " Oh, he did. Sure, it was Tie started me learnin' 
 things, an' I am goin' on learnin' now, father. Let us 
 both learn." 
 
 " What ? " cried the astonished father. 
 
 " O' coorse, I know ye have a lot o' knowledge, but 
 it's the little fine things we Irish have got to learn. An' 
 they make life seem so much bigger an' grander by bein' 
 considerate an' civil an' soft-spoken to each other. We've 
 let the brutality of all the years that have gone before 
 eat into us, and we have thrown off all the charm and 
 formality of life, and in their place adopted a rough and 
 crude manner to each other that does not come really 
 from our hearts, but from the memory of our wrongs." 
 
 Unconsciously Peg had spoken as she had heard Jerry 
 so often speak when he discussed the Irish. She had 
 lowered her voice and concluded with quiet strength 
 and dignity. The contrast to the beginning of the 
 speech was electrical. O'Connell listened amazed. 
 
 "Did the same Jerry say that?" 
 
 " He did, father. An' much more. He knows Ireland 
 well, an' loves it. Many of his best friends are Irish 
 an'" 
 
 " Wait a minnit. Have I ever been ' rough an' crude ' 
 in me manner to you, Peg? " 
 
 " Never, father. But, faith, you ought to be a Lord
 
 365 
 
 yerself. There isn't one o' them in England looks any 
 betther than you do. It's in their manner that they 
 have the advantage of us." 
 
 " And where would / be gettin' the manner of a Lord, 
 when me father died the poorest peasant in the village, 
 an' me brought up from hand to mouth since I was a 
 child? " 
 
 " I'm sorry I said anythin', father. I wasn't re- 
 proachin' ye." 
 
 " I know that, Peg." 
 
 " I'm so proud of ye that yer manner manes more to 
 me than any man o' title in England." 
 
 He drew her gently to him. 
 
 " There's the one great danger of two people who 
 have grown near to each other separatin'. When they 
 meet again, they each think the other has changed. They 
 look at each other with different eyes, Peg. An' that's 
 what yer doin' with me. So long as I was near ye, ye 
 didn't notice the roughness o' me speech an' the lack 
 o' breedin' an' the want o' knowledge. Ye've seen and 
 listened to others since who have all I never had the 
 chance to get. God knows I want you to have all the 
 advantages that the wurrld can give ye, since you an* 
 me counthry an' the memory of yer mother are all 
 I have had in me life these twenty years past. An' that 
 was why I urged ye to go to England on the bounty of 
 yer uncle. I wanted ye to know there was another kind 
 of a life, where the days flowed along without a care or 
 a sorrow. Where poverty was but a word, an' misery had 
 no place. An' ye've seen it, Peg. An' the whole wurrld 
 has changed for ye, Peg. An' from now you'll sit in 
 judgment on the dead and gone days of yer youth 
 an' in judgment on me " 
 
 She interrupted him violently :
 
 366 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 "What are ye say in' to me at all! 7 sit in judgment 
 on you! What do ye think I've become? Let me tell 
 ye I've come back to ye a thousand times more yer child 
 than I was when I left ye. What I've gone through has 
 only strengthened me love for ye and me reverence for 
 yer life's work. 7 may have changed. But don't we 
 all change day by day, even as we pass them close to each 
 other. An' if the change is for the betther, where's the 
 harm? I have changed, father. There's somethin' 
 wakened in me I never knew before. It's a woman I've 
 brought ye back instead o' the girl I left. An* it's the 
 woman'U stand by ye, father, even as the child did when 
 I depended on ye for every little thing. There's no 
 power in the wurrld'll ever separate us ! " 
 
 She clung to him hysterically. 
 
 Even while she protested the most he felt the strange 
 new note in her life. He held her firmly and looked into 
 her eyes. 
 
 " There's one thing, Peg, that must part us, some day, 
 when it comes to you." 
 
 "What's that, father?" 
 
 " Love, Peg." 
 
 She lowered her eyes and said nothing. 
 
 "Has it come? Has it, Peg? " 
 
 She buried her face on his breast, and though no sound 
 came, he knew by the trembling of her little body that 
 she was crying. 
 
 So it had come into her life. 
 
 The child he had sent away a month ago had come back 
 to him transformed in that little time into a woman. 
 
 The Cry of Youth and the Call of Life had reached 
 her heart.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD 
 
 THAT night Peg and her father faced the future. They 
 argued out all it might mean. They would fight it to- 
 gether. It was a pathetic, wistful little Peg that came 
 back to him, and O'Connell set himself the task of lifting 
 something of the load that lay on his child's heart. 
 
 After all, he reasoned with her, with all his gentility 
 and his advantages to have allowed Peg to like him and 
 then to deliberately hurt her at the end, just as she was 
 leaving, for a fancied insult, did not augur well for the 
 character of Jerry. 
 
 He tried to laugh her out of her mood. 
 
 He chided her for joking with an Englishman at a 
 critical moment such as their leave-taking. 
 
 "And it was a joke, Peg, wasn't it?" 
 
 " Sure, it was, father." 
 
 " You ought to have known betther than that. During 
 all that long month ye were there did ye meet one Eng- 
 lishman that ever saw a joke? " 
 
 " Not many, father. Cousin Alaric couldn't." 
 
 " Did ye meet one? " 
 
 "I did, father. 
 
 "Ye did?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " There was a man whose friendship ye might treas- 
 ure." 
 
 " I do treasure it, father." 
 
 " Ye do? " 
 
 Yes, father." 
 
 867
 
 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 "Who was it?" 
 
 " Jerry, father." 
 
 (yConnell took a long breath and sighed. 
 
 Jerry ! Always Jerry ! 
 
 " I thried several jokes on him, an' he saw most of 
 'em." 
 
 " I'd like to see this paragon, faith." 
 
 " I wish ye could, father. Indade I do. Ye'd be such 
 good friends." 
 
 " We'd be friends? Didn't ye say he was a gintle- 
 man? " 
 
 " He sez a gintleman is a man who wouldn't willingly 
 hurt anybody else. And he sez, as well, that it doesn't 
 matther what anybody was born, if they have that quality 
 in them they're just as much gintleman as the people 
 with ancestors an' breedin'. An' he said that the finest 
 gintleman he ever met was a cabman. " 
 
 " A cabman, Peg? " 
 
 " Yes, faith that's what he said. The cabman 
 couldn't hurt anybody, and so he was a gintleman." 
 
 "Did he mane it?" 
 
 " He meant everything he said to me." 
 
 " There isn't much the matther with him, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 " There's nothin' the matther with him, father." 
 
 ** Mebbe he is Irish way back. It's just what an Irish- 
 man would say a rale Irishman." 
 
 " There's no nationality in character or art, or sport 
 or letthers or music. They're all of one great common- 
 wealth. They're all one brotherhood, whether they're 
 white or yellow or red or black. There's no nationality 
 about them. The wurrld wants the best, an' they don't 
 care what colour the best man is, so long as he's great! *' 
 
 O'Connell listened amazed. 
 
 " An' where might ye have heard that ? "
 
 PEG RETURNS TO HER FATHER 369 
 
 " Jerry towld me. An' it's thrue. I believe it." 
 
 They talked far into the night. 
 
 He unfolded his plans. 
 
 If his book was a success and he made some little money 
 out of it, they would go back to Ireland and live out their 
 lives there. And it was going to be a wonderful Ireland, 
 too, with the best of the old and ceaseless energy of the 
 new. 
 
 An Ireland worth living in. 
 
 They would make their home there again, and this 
 time they would not leave it. 
 
 " But some day we might go to England, father, eh ? " 
 
 " What for? " 
 
 " Just to see it, father." 
 
 " I was only there once. It was there yer mother 
 an' me were married. It was there she gave her life into 
 me care." 
 
 He became suddenly silent, and the light of memory 
 shone in his eyes, and the sigh of heart-ache broke through 
 his lips. 
 
 And his thoughts stretched back through the years, 
 and once again Angela was beside him. 
 
 Peg saw the look and knew it. She kept quite still. 
 Then, as of old, when her father was in trouble, she did 
 as she was wont in those old-young days she slipped 
 her little hand into his and waited for him to break the 
 silence. 
 
 After a while he stood up. 
 
 " Ye'd betther be goin' to bed, Peg." 
 
 " All right, father." 
 
 She went to the door. Then she stopped. 
 
 "Ye're glad I'm home, father?" 
 
 He pressed her closely to him for answer. 
 
 " I'll never lave ye again," she whispered.
 
 370 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 All through the night Peg lay awake, searching 
 through the past and trying to pierce through the future. 
 
 Toward morning she slept and, in a whirling dream 
 she saw a body floating down a stream. She stretched 
 out her hand to grasp it when the eyes met hers, and the 
 eyes were those of a dead man and the man was Jerry. 
 
 She woke trembling with fear and she turned on the 
 light and huddled into a chair and sat chattering with 
 terror until she heard her father moving in his room. 
 She went to the door and asked him to let her go in to him. 
 He opened the door and saw his little Peg wild eyed, pale 
 and terror-stricken, standing on the threshold. The look 
 in her eyes terrified him. 
 
 " What is it, Peg, me darlin'? What is it? " 
 
 She crept in, and looked up into his face with her star- 
 tling gaze, and she grasped him with both of her small 
 hands, and in a voice dull and hopeless, cried despair- 
 ingly : 
 
 " I dreamt he was dead ! Dead ! and I couldn't rache 
 him. An' he went on past me down the stream - 
 with his face up-turned " The grasp loosened, and 
 just as she slipped from him, O'Connell caught her in 
 his strong arms and placed her gently on the sofa and 
 tended her until her eyes opened again and looked up 
 at him. 
 
 It was the first time his Peg had fainted. 
 
 She had indeed come back to him changed. 
 
 He reproached himself bitterly. 
 
 Why had he insisted on her going? 
 
 She had a sorrow at her heart, now, that no hand could 
 heal not even his. 
 
 Time only could soften her grief time and
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 
 
 THOSE first days following Peg's return found father 
 and child nearer each other than they had been since 
 that famous trip through Ireland, when he lectured from 
 the back of his historical cart. 
 
 She became O'ConnelPs amanuensis. During the day 
 she would go from library to library in New York, veri- 
 fying data for her father's monumental work. At night 
 he would dictate and she would write. O'Connell took 
 a newer and more vital interest in the book, and it ad- 
 vanced rapidly toward completion. 
 
 It was a significant moment to introduce it, since the 
 eyes of the world were turned on the outcome of the new 
 measure for Home Rule for Ireland, that Mr. Asquith's 
 government were introducing, and that appeared to have 
 every chance of becoming law. 
 
 The dream of so many Irishmen seemed to be within 
 the bounds of possibility of becoming a forceful reality. 
 
 Accordingly O'Connell strained every nerve to complete 
 it. He reviewed the past; he dwelt on the present: he 
 attempted to forecast the future. And with every new 
 page that he completed he felt it was one more step 
 nearer home the home he was hoping for and building 
 on for Peg in Ireland. 
 
 There the colour would come back to her cheeks, the 
 light to her eyes and the flash of merriment to her tongue. 
 She rarely smiled now, and the pallor was always in 
 her cheeks, and wan circles pencilled around her eyes 
 spoke of hard working days and restless nights. 
 
 371
 
 372 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 She no longer spoke of England. 
 
 He, wise in his generation, never referred to it. All 
 her interest seemed to be centred in his book. 
 
 It was a strange metamorphosis for Peg this writing 
 at dictation : correcting her orthography ; becoming fa- 
 miliar with historical facts and hunting through book- 
 shelves for the actual occurrences during a certain pe- 
 riod. 
 
 And she found a certain happiness in doing it. 
 
 Was it not for her father? 
 
 And was she not improving herself? 
 
 Already she would not be at such a disadvantage, as a 
 month ago, with people. 
 
 The thought gratified her. 
 
 She had two letters from Ethel: the first a simple, 
 direct one of gratitude and of regret ; gratitude for Peg's 
 kindness and loyalty to her, and regret that Peg had left 
 them. The second told of a trip she was about to make 
 to Norway with some friends. 
 
 They were going to close the house in Scarboro and re- 
 turn to London early in September. 
 
 Alaric had decided to follow his father's vocation and 
 go to the bar. The following Autumn they would settle 
 permanently in London while Alaric ate his qualifying 
 dinners and addressed himself to making his career ! 
 
 Of Brent she wrote nothing. That incident was ap- 
 parently closed. She ended her letter with the warmest 
 expressions of regard and affection for Peg, and the 
 hope that some day they would meet again and renew 
 their too-brief intimacy. The arrival of these letters 
 and her daily * deviling ' for her father were the only 
 incidents in her even life. 
 
 One evening some few weeks after her return, she was 
 in her room preparing to begin her night's work with her
 
 PEG RETURNS TO HER FATHER 373 
 
 father when she heard the bell ring. That was unusual. 
 Their callers were few. She heard the outer door open 
 then the sound of a distant voice mingling with her 
 father's. 
 
 Then came a knock at her door. 
 
 " There's somebody outside here to see ye, Peg," said 
 her father. 
 
 "Who is it, father?" 
 
 " A perfect sthranger = to me. Be quick now." 
 
 She heard her father's footsteps go into the little sit- 
 ting-room and then the hum of voices. 
 
 Without any apparent reason she suddenly felt a tense- 
 ness and nervousness. She walked out of her room and 
 paused a moment outside the closed door of the sitting- 
 room and listened. 
 
 Her father was talking. She opened the door and 
 walked in. A tall, bronzed man came forward to greet 
 her. Her heart almost stopped. She trembled violently. 
 The next moment Jerry had clasped her hand in both of 
 his. 
 
 " How are you, Peg ? " 
 
 He smiled down at her as he used to in Regal Villa: 
 and behind the smile there was a grave look in his dark 
 eyes, and the old tone of tenderness in his voice. 
 
 " How are you, Peg? " he repeated. 
 
 " I'm fine, Mr. Jerry," she replied in a daze. Then 
 she looked at O'Connell and she hurried on to say: 
 
 " This is my father Sir Gerald Adair." 
 
 " We'd inthroduced ourselves already," said O'Connell, 
 good-naturedly, eyeing the unexpected visitor all the 
 while. " And what might ye be doin' in New York? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I have never seen America. I take an Englishman's 
 interest in what we once owned "
 
 374 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 " And lost thro' misgovernment " 
 
 *' Well, we'll say misunderstanding " 
 
 " As they'll one day lose Ireland " 
 
 " I hope not. The two countries understand each 
 other better every day." 
 
 " It's taken centuries to do it. 5 * 
 
 " The more lasting will be the union." 
 
 As Peg watched Jerry she was wondering all the time 
 why he was there. This quiet, undemonstrative, unemo- 
 tional man. Why? 
 
 The bell rang again. Peg started to go, but O'Con- 
 nell stopped her. 
 
 " It's McGinnis. This is his night to call and tell me 
 the politics of the town. I'll take him into the next room, 
 Peg, until yer visitor is gone." 
 
 " Oh, please " said Jerry hurriedly and taking a step 
 toward the door. " Allow me to call some other time." 
 
 " Stay where ye are ! " cried O'Connell, hurrying out 
 AS tire bell rang again. 
 
 Peg and Jerry looked at each other a moment, then she 
 lowr*d her eyes. 
 
 " I waat to ask ye something, Sir Gerald," she began. 
 
 " Jerry ! " he corrected. 
 
 " Please forgive me for what I said to ye that day. It 
 waj wrong of me to say it. Yet it was just what ye 
 might have expected from me. But ye'd been so fine 
 to e a little nobody all that wonderful month that 
 it's hurt me ever since. And I didn't dare write to ye 
 it would have looked like presumption from me. But now 
 tlaat ye've come here ye've found me out and I want 
 to ask yer pardon an* I want to ask ye not to be angry 
 with me." 
 
 ** I couldn't be angry with you, Peg." 
 
 He paused, and, as he looked at her, the reserve of
 
 PEG RETURNS TO HER FATHER 375 
 
 the held-in, self-contained man was broken. He bent 
 over her and said softly: 
 
 " Peg, I love you ! " 
 
 A cry welled up from Peg's heart to her lips, and wa 
 stifled. The room swam around her. 
 
 Was all her misery to end? 
 
 Did this man come back from the mists of memory 
 'because he loved her? 
 
 She tried to speak but nothing came from her parched 
 lips and tightened throat. 
 
 Then she became conscious that he was speaking 
 again, and she listened to him with all her senses, with all 
 her heart, and from her soul. 
 
 " I knew you would never write to me, and somehow 
 I wondered just how much you cared for me if at all. 
 So I came here. I love you, Peg. I want you to be 
 my wife. I want to care for you, and tend you, and 
 make you happy. I love you ! " 
 
 Her heart leaped and strained. The blood surged to 
 her temples. 
 
 " Do you love me ? " she whispered, and her voice 
 trembled and broke. 
 
 " I do. Indeed I do. Be my wife.'* 
 
 " But you have a title," she pleaded. 
 
 " Share it with me ! " he replied. 
 
 " Ye'd be so ashamed o' me, ye would ! " 
 
 " No, Peg, I'd be proud of you. I love you ! " 
 
 Peg, unable to argue or plead, or strive against what 
 her heart yearned for the most, broke down and sobbed 
 as she murmured: 
 
 " I love you, too, Mister Jerry." 
 
 In a moment she was in his arms. 
 
 It was the first time anyone had touched her tenderly 
 besides her father. All her sturdy, boyish ruggedness
 
 876 PEG O' MY HEART 
 
 shrank from any display of affection. Just for a mo- 
 ment it did now. Then she slowly yielded herself. 
 
 But Jerry stroked her hair, and looked into her eyes 
 and smiled down at her lovingly, as he asked: 
 
 " What will your father say ? " 
 
 She looked happily up at him and answered: 
 
 " Do you know one of the first things me father taught 
 me when I was just a little child? " 
 
 "Tell me!" 
 
 " It was from Tom Moore : * Oh, there's nothin' half 
 so sweet in life 
 
 As Love's young dream.' " 
 
 When O'Connell came into the room later he realised 
 that the great summons had come to his little girl. 
 
 He felt a dull pain at his heart. 
 
 But only for a moment. 
 
 The thought came to him that he was about to give 
 to England his daughter in marriage! Well, had he 
 not taken from the English one of her fairest daughters 
 as his wife? 
 
 And a silent prayer went up from his heart that happi- 
 ness would abide with his Peg and her * Jerry ' and that 
 their romance would last longer than had Angela's and 
 his.
 
 AFTERWORD 
 
 f
 
 AFTERWORD 
 
 AND now the moment has come to take leave of the 
 people I have lived with for so long. Yet, though I say 
 " Adieu ! " I feel it is only a temporary leave-taking. 
 Their lives are so linked with mine that some day in the 
 future I may be tempted to draw back the curtain and 
 show the passage of years in their various lives. 
 
 Simultaneously with the Second-Reading of the Home 
 Rule Bill passing through the English House of Com- 
 mons, O'Connell published his book. 
 
 Setting down clearly, without passion or prejudice, the 
 actual facts of the ancient and modern struggle for 
 Ireland's freedom, and foreshadowing the coming of the 
 New Era of prosperity and enlightenment and education 
 and business integrity O'Connell found himself hailed 
 as a modern prophet. 
 
 He appealed to them to beg no longer but to co- 
 operate, to organize above all to work and to work 
 consistently and intelligently. He appealed to the Irish 
 working in factories and work-shops and in civil appoint- 
 ments in the great cities of the world, to come back to 
 Ireland, and, once again to worship at the shrine of the 
 beauty of God's Country ! To open their eyes and their 
 hearts to all the light and glory and wonder which God 
 gives to the marvellous world He has made for humanity. 
 To see the Dawn o'er mountain and lake ; scent the grass 
 and the incense of the flowers, and the sweet breath of 
 the land. To grasp the real and tumultuous magnifi- 
 cence of their native country. 
 
 He appealed to all true Irishmen to take up their 
 
 379
 
 380 AFTERWORD 
 
 lives again in the land from which they were driven, and 
 to be themselves the progenitors of Ireland's New Na- 
 tion. 
 
 It will not be long before his appeal will be answered 
 and his prophecy fulfilled. 
 
 The Dawn of the New Ireland has begun to shed its 
 light over the country, and the call of Patriotism will 
 bring Irishmen from the farthest limits of the world, 
 as it drove them away in the bitter time of blood and 
 strife and ignorance and despotism. 
 
 Those days have passed. O'Connell was in the thick 
 of the battle in his youth; in his manhood he now sees 
 the fruit of the conflict. 
 
 Some day, with him, we will visit Peg in her English 
 home, and see the marvels time and love have wrought 
 upon her. But to those who knew her in the old days she 
 is still the same Peg O' my Heart resolute, loyal, un- 
 flinching, mingling the laugh with the tear truth and 
 honesty her bed-rock. 
 
 And whilst we are in London we will drop into the 
 Law-Courts and hear Alaric Chichester, now Barrister- 
 at-Law, argue his first case and show the possibility of 
 following in his famous father's footsteps. 
 
 We will also visit Mrs. Chichester and hear of her 
 little grand-child, born in Berlin, where her daughter, 
 Ethel, met and married an attache at the Embassy, and 
 has formed a salon in which the illustrious in the Diplo- 
 matic world foregather. 
 
 It will be a grateful task to revive old memories of 
 those who formed the foreground of the life-story of one 
 whose radiant presence shall always live in my memory: 
 whose steadfastness and courage endeared her to all; 
 whose influence on those who met her and watched her
 
 AFTERWORD 381 
 
 and listened to her was far-reaching, since she epitomized 
 in her small body all that makes woman loveable and 
 man supreme : honour, faith and Love ! 
 
 Adieu! Peg 0* my Heart!
 
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